Work Text:
October 2023
As things always do, it comes at the worst possible time.
It's 2am, and Heather is pulling an all-nighter to finish her psychology assignment, when a blinding stab of pain shoots through her belly.
“ Ow, ” she hisses through her teeth, her hand whipping to clutch her stomach. Her first thought is to call for someone to call an ambulance, but even breathing makes her shudder with pain.
The pain is unbearable; she thinks she might black out, if she hadn't had so much caffeine to keep awake. Consciousness, her mortal enemy. She can't stop thinking about how much she would appreciate a dreamless night of sleep right now.
“Hey, is anyone still- holy shit Heather!” Astrid exclaims at the sight of her friend bent double at the kitchen table, their face scrunched in pain.
Through waves of pain that rock her body, they get out one word: “ambulance.”
Astrid calls for Hiccup, and he sprints into the kitchen in under twenty seconds, to no one's surprise he's still up. She rings 911 while Hiccup helps her to the floor with gentle arms. He asks her where it hurts and it's all she can do to point to the right side of her stomach, just above her hips.
Hiccup swears under his breath. “Heather…” he hesitates. “I think it's your appendix.”
“ ‘S probably just period pains,” she groans.
“Heather, period pains aren’t supposed to be this bad. Like, ever. Not even for endometriosis.”
It does make sense; she never normally has pains this severe. Even then, it’s usually all over her body, filling her bones and making her cranky. This was decidedly worse, concentrated into the lower right side of her belly.
“Make it stop,” she cries weakly. Hiccup’s hand reaches for her cheek, and rubs her skin with his thumb.
“Heather, there's an ambulance on its way,” Astrid says, clutching her hand in a gesture she hopes is comforting. “Just hang in there and breathe as deeply as you can.”
She tries, but she doesn't anticipate how much breathing hurts. The movement sends a pang up her spine, and she has to fight not to scream. That will undoubtedly make it worse than it already is. And it's pretty bad already: she can feel unconsciousness teasing her head, making Astrid's voice screaming for everyone in the flat to wake up and help go fuzzy and distorted.
“Heather, the ambulance is just outside,” Hiccup says, bending down to her ear to speak. “They'll deal with whatever this is, okay? Just please stay awake until they can see you.”
She'd love to, she really would. But each blink of her eyes is harder and harder to complete and she’s just so tired .
A new set of hands reach her, prodding her stomach. Voices start, and then they overlap, and she can’t find it in herself to decode words. She’s awake and then she’s not, and everything is dark.
.o0o.
Heather wakes much much later, her head fuzzy. Something feels off, but she can’t place it. Thinking is too exhausting. She can vaguely feel something covering her face.
“Hey, sis.” A voice comes somewhere around her, soft and soothing. Someone’s hand is gently wrapped around her fingers, and she manages to match the warm, rough skin to the familiar cadences of the voice. “Your appendix burst, they’ve had to do a little operation to get it out. But it’ll be all better soon, okay?”
Oh. Right. The pain, the burning, the white-hot sensation in her belly. She tries to think if it’s still there, but she’s still too light-headed.
“Shut your eyes, sis. I’m here; Dagur’s here. You’re gonna be okay.”
She doesn’t have the energy to smile, or even nod, so she shuts her eyes and drifts off easily. The hand around her fingers stays for a long time.
.o0o.
The next time she wakes, they feel a bit more conscious. A few more things register around her: voices talking, wheels squeaking, someone faintly crying. Whatever was on her mouth is gone, which is reassuring at least.
A shock of blue against dark red stubble enters their vision. “ ‘Sup, sis?”
“H- hey.” Talking feels like knives are scraping her throat.
“How are you feeling? Thumbs up or down?”
Heather thinks down to where the pain was blinding them previously. It’s still very sore, and she feels wobbly, like someone could poke her too hard and she’d shatter.
Their hands wobble as she gives her brother a thumbs down. He -being incredibly gentle- pats her hand. “I’ll get you some painkillers.”
Heather waits, staring at the ceiling (not like she can do much else), until the familiarly bright grin of her brother returns to her vision. Something cool goes into her veins, so different to the warmth of her brother’s hand in hers, and it’s easy to fall asleep.
.o0o.
Finally, she wakes up properly. She opens their eyes, and it feels like opening lids glued shut. Their head’s still foggy, and she doesn’t dare try to move.
Dagur’s sitting on a chair beside her, his feet on the edge of their bed. Hiccup’s there too, medical mask and all, bouncing his knee and typing on his phone. It hits her, with all the emotional range they can feel, he -immunocompromised, therefore very prone to getting sick- is putting himself at so much risk to see her. The thought makes them feel horrible enough to open her mouth and speak.
“Hey guys.”
Dagur beams at her, dressed in a baggy Edge University sweater he probably stole from one of the others, and jeans. His off duty clothes. “How’s it going, sis?”
“I’m okay. What the hell happened?”
“Your appendix burst like a balloon... pop! ” He mimics a firework exploding with his hands.
“I thought it was just bad period pain,” she admits.
“Holy shit, Heather.” Dagur fixes her with a look she can only call admiration. “A burst appendix is serious business. I’ve seen fully grown cis men crying over them.”
“Yeah, well males don’t get periods,” Heather returns, a not-quite smile on her face.
“I can’t believe you thought a burst appendix was period cramps,” Hiccup says, a look akin to their brother’s on his face. “I mean, even my cramps aren’t that bad.”
“Shut up, Hiccup,” Heather says, trying very hard not to grumble.
“We can tease you about it when you’re better. When you feel like laughing about it, ok?”
“That would be... appreciated.”
Hiccup leaves, mumbling something about glasses of water, and Heather knows he’s just restless from being around so many germs. Dagur reaches across, clasps her hand, and nods. “How’s it feeling?”
Heather thought about it, focusing her mind onto the pains in her stomach. Sore. Wobbly. “Kinda shit.”
“It’ll get better, sis.” He smiled warmly. “Everyone recovers from an appendectomy. You’ll be right as sun in no time.”
“It’s right as rain , dumbass.” Heather chuckled, rolling her eyes
“You’ll be right as rain , then. Even though the sun is significantly more cheerful, by the way. You’ll be okay.”