#i feel like the burns wouldn't be one huge scar bc the fire was like. erratic? ig. but would be in several places on his leg

[saturnniidae]

I'm my mind Hiccup has more of a limp than in canon because while he does still have a working left knee, realistically the type of burn scars he'd have from the Red Death would probably make the joint movement stiff

[kindofwriter]

Just that bit of 177, but as a TV show script, because I have Ideas and no animation skills.

ID (unfortunately) under the cut, bc it’s literally thousands of words long.

ZOLF: Wilde, just talk to me honestly. Why are you... why...

WILDE: (ANGRY NOW) I'll tell you what: I'll talk to you honestly when you talk to me honestly

.WILDE snatches his hand out of ZOLF's.

.WILDE snatches his hand out of ZOLF's.

.WILDE snatches his hand out of ZOLF's.

ZOLF: (HESITANT) I am-

WILDE: (INTERRUPTING) Just say- Just say the words! 'Wilde, we need you to fix it again. Wilde, it's gone wrong, help! Wilde, solve this problem! Wilde; won't take long!'

With each sentence spoken WILDE's appearance changes: we watch him grow older. First we see him as ZOLF first met him: older, but still colourful and fresh-faced. Then we recognise his shorn hair and gaunt features from Damascus. Then, a flash of the man ZOLF has known for the past year: hair at an awkward, choppy length, practical clothes, tired eyes. And finally: thin and exhausted, with a jagged scar splitting across his face. He remains this way as he continues to speak.

WILDE: (ANGER BLURRING INTO UPSET) Just give me one of them! Just talk to me honestly, for the first time! Just, what is it? What- What needs fixing? What's gone wrong? What's on fire? 

WILDE gestures, almost absent-mindedley, out of the window.

CUT TO WIDE SHOT OF ZOLF

ZOLF is silhouetted in front of the window, which no longer shows an idyllic Paris day, but is instead reminiscent of the riots and looting that ensued after Mr Ceiling. A plume of smoke curls up out of Eiffel's folly.

CUT BACK TO WILDE

WILDE: Who died? What do I actually need to fix here? Because right now, this is the first chance I've had in I don't know how long. I've got finals coming up-

Suddenly WILDE is young and irritated again.

WILDE: I've got all of the interviews that are lined up on top, and everything's piling up, and all I've got are people asking me to fix things, and I keep doing it, and I keep fixing everything, brilliant. So, tell me, Zolf, I thought we were friends, but no. What do I need to fix?

ZOLF takes one hesitant, shuffled step towards WILDE.

ZOLF: (GENTLY )You don't have any-

WILDE: (INTERRUPTING )Do you want to cheat off me? Is that it? It's fine. Cheat off me, like everyone else does. It's. Fine.

WILDE drops his gaze, turning towards the garden.

ZOLF: (ANNOYED NOW) You don't have uni! You don't have exams! You don't have interviews! You. Are. Dead!

WILDE turns slightly back towards ZOLF and strokes a finger along his face, where his scar used to be.

ZOLF: You have no responsibility anymore. And you don't need to have any responsibility anymore. That's okay. (SOFTER) But I'm giving you a simple choice: you come back with me, or you don't. That's it. There is no other motive.

ZOLF pauses as if he wants to stop, looking upset and annoyed, then forces himself to press on.

ZOLF: Yes, things are broken. And things need to be fixed, and things need to be sorted out, but that doesn't have to be on you. And it shouldn't be just on you.

ZOLF extends a hand again. WILDE doesn't take it, but he's taken his attention away from the garden.

ZOLF: We're all responsible, for everything. And you died, in pursuit of a fix. And it would not be fair for me to tell you that you have to come back.

ZOLF lowers his hand.

WILDE: So why are you here? What, what, what's your actual point?

ZOLF: (INTERRUPTING) To ask you-

WILDE: (INTERRUPTING) Why don't you just let it lie?

ZOLF: (SOFT AND GENUINE) To ask you if you want to come back. You didn't choose to die, but you can, right now, choose to stay dead. 

WILDE takes a moment to compose himself. He suddenly remembers the drink still clutched in his other hand and finishes it, setting his glass on a table by the door. A breeze from the park ruffles his hair.

ZOLF: I know, better than a lot of people, that death ain't the end. Y'know, I'm a cleric for goodness sake. 

ZOLF touches the space on his chest were his dolphin once hung, then quickly drops his hand again, as if he was burned.

ZOLF: So, there is a, a natural order to things. And people die, and they move on, and that's just how it works.

WILDE: I'm just tired, Zolf. 

WILDE hangs his head, allowing his hair to cover his face in the same way he would do when hiding his scar.

WILDE: That's all. I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm just-

WILDE sighs. ZOLF takes another step closer to him.

ZOLF: I know, Wilde, I am tired too.

WILDE and ZOLF share a glance, one they've probably shared on countless late nights in countless safehouses. WILDE is the first to look away.

WILDE: Everyone thinks that they're carrying this, but they're not. 'Cause you know what happens if they drop the ball? I pick it up, and I pass it to someone else, and if no one else is there to take it I carry the ball myself. That-that's just how this works, and I'm just- I'm just tired. I'm just so tired, Zolf. I'm just. So. Tired.

ZOLF takes one final step; he's now right next to WILDE.

ZOLF: Do you really think you're the only person who feels like that? Everyone feels like that, all the time. Everyone's tired. And everyone has work to do. And-

WILDE: So, what? We just go back and carry on until eventually we can't? That's not-

WILDE sighs heavily, trailing off. ZOLF clenches a fist in frustration, but doesn't let it show on his face.

ZOLF: (WITH AN UPSET TINGE TO HIS VOICE, BUT KINDLY) Not necessarily. Not if you don't want to. I told you, when I first came here, I will turn around and I will go back on my own, and that is fine. 

ZOLF grits his teeth a little as he says this: is is clearly not fine.

ZOLF: That is your choice. But I want you to understand the options.

WILDE takes a deep breath, then looks directly at ZOLF.

WILDE: Just give me a reason, other than because there's something that needs doing. That's all I need. Just one reason, other than 'there is another job for you, Wilde.' That's all I need.

ZOLF seems flustered under WILDE's intense gaze, and for the first time since arriving looks directly away from him.

ZOLF: Do you want there to be another reason?

WILDE: What did I just say? Obviously I do! Yes! 

The tension is broken; ZOLF looks back to WILDE. His brow is furrowed slightly, and he looks like he's trying to hold back what he's about to say next.

ZOLF: (EXTREMELY SOFTLY) Fine. (FORCING THE WORDS OUT, BUT REALLY MEANING THEM) Because I need you, Wilde.

ZOLF reaches out a hand, but doesn't wait for WILDE to take it this time; he just grabs WILDE's hand in his own. A small smile twitches at the corner's of WILDE's lips.

WILDE: (SLIGHT SMILE BLOSSOMING INTO A GRIN) And there we go. An honest answer from Zolf Smith. I never thought I'd hear it.

ZOLF: (WITH RELIEF AND ANGER, BOTH MOCK AND REAL)You were just angling for that?!

ZOLF drops WILDE's hand in an over-dramatised manner. WILDE is chuckling slightly.

ZOLF: (GRINNING) You bastard.

WILDE: No, I wasn't just angling for that, but it's nice to know.

WILDE tucks his hair behind his ear.

ZOLF: Well, I didn't wanna say, because it wouldn't be fair.

WILDE: Oh, nothing's fair.

WILDE gazes over ZOLF's shoulder at something for a moment. The window reflects in his eyes, and there appears to be a figure stood on the balcony, dressed all in black, looking out over the city. ZOLF whips round to see what he's looking at, but there's no one there, save for the toe of a boot disappearing upwards, as if someone's climbing up to the roof. All this takes less than a moment. 

WILDE: Look at it.

They're both looking out the window now - from a distance - watching Paris burn. ZOLF turns back to WILDE.

ZOLF: D- uh. D'you want to come back, or don't you? Like, yeah, uh, I-I've said it, I know. But it's still your choice.

WILDE: Here's the plan. We're gonna finish up these drinks, we go out there-

WILDE gestures to the doorway behind him, but as he does the already darkened park fades completely to black.

WILDE: We'll figure it out. We always do. It's fine. It's just useful to know I'm not just beating my head against the wall for no reason, Zolf, y'know?

WILDE smiles fondly down at ZOLF, allowing the backs of their hands to brush together.

ZOLF: Look-

ZOLF pulls his hand away, and for a moment WILDE looks hurt, until ZOLF grabs hold of his lapels and yanks him down to ZOLF's height. Their noses are almost touching. WILDE smirks coyly and ZOLF looks stoic, but both of their cheeks flush slightly from the proximity.

ZOLF: When this is all done we'll go on holiday or something.

A huge, Cheshire-cat-grin spreads across WILDE's face.

WILDE: Where?

ZOLF: (EXHASPERATED AND FOND) Oh, I don't know! I don't know where's gonna be left after all this is done. But somewhere nice. 

WILDE: (WITH MOCK SINCERITY) Zolf, I won't come back with you until you tell me where we're going on holiday together.

ZOLF: Such a dick.

ZOLF lets go of WILDE, allowing him to straighten up, but as soon as he does ZOLF grabs his hand again.

ZOLF: Come on.

With one final shared smile, WILDE pulls ZOLF after him into the darkness.

END ID].