FicWad

It was dull. The room was dull. Duller than the bedroom of his childhood. Sheik missed that one. He despised the wallpaper as a child, and, ten years later, he still thought it was tacky.

Lately, though, he'd been wishing he could go back to the blue walls with clouds and triangles dotting them. He wanted to go back to those days. He wanted to be a child again. He wanted to go back and avoid that dreadful experience. He wanted to prevent that series of events.

He hated the asylum. Ten years, and he still wasn't used to it. Zelda was wrong. He'd never get used to it.

"I brought takeout," his sister offered gently, holding out the white bag of styrofoam boxes.

Sheik shook his head, not even glancing at it. He was nauseous. He didn't want to eat today.

Zelda sighed softly, and Sheik could imagine her fighting to school her expression, hiding the hurt and portraying understanding. She set the food on his bedside table and sat beside him on the soft sheets, clasping her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry for not coming for so long," she whispered.

Her twin shrugged.

"Are you angry?"

Sheik shrugged again. It didn't really matter. She wasn't there then. She was here now. He was oddly empty, devoid of any sort of anger or betrayal. Her absence had become a normality. She rarely came anymore.

"Sheik, please talk to me."

"I haven't got anything to say."

"You must have something."

Another shake of the head. Nothing. He rarely spoke anymore. Silence was his friend. It hadn't been at first, but after the screaming matches, the begging, the bargaining, they had come to a compromise, and Sheik learned to enjoy the silence. It had come to the point that when someone spoke too loud he was irritated, refusing to acknowledge them unless they quieted down. He could hear everything in this room - the softest whispers, his own breathing, their breathing, the echoes of their voice just as loud as their speaking, to the point it caused painful confusion.

Frowning, Zelda looked down at her hands. "I've been stuck in all these horrid extra classes from father. Teaching me stupid things like marketing and business, formalities, boring things."

Sheik nodded. They were part of a family of aristocrats, of course - at least, Zelda was. Sheik had long since been disowned, so all the responsibility fell on his sister. She was the inheritor of the Nohansen fortune, the next in line to lead their companies, to attend all those official meetings and make big decisions. Sheik was glad he wasn't part of that, at least. He wasn't a part of anything.

He wasn't important anymore.

He hadn't been important to them since he was diagnosed as a psychopath. He'd never been told why, or even what the symptoms were. All he knew was that his lack of remorse for what he'd done disturbed the adults, and they had him locked up for it.

You're an emotionless monster.

That wasn't true. He'd done it out of emotion. Out of fear. Out of care. To protect Zelda. Nobody cared.

"I got some time off today because the instructor has been sick. I had yesterday, too, but I was busy. I'm sorry."

Busy still, even when her obligations were nonexistent. Of course. Sheik knew there were always better things for her to do.

"I . . . "

Zelda wrung her hands nervously. Hesitantly, she grabbed one of Sheik's, forever surprised at how cold they were. He didn't move much, after all.

"I found someone I think can help."

Sheik furrowed his brows. "Help? With what?"

His throat protested at the strain. He never talked this much. That seemed to strengthen Zelda's confidence.

"Sheik, you and I both know what we saw wasn't a result of our overactive imaginations," she said softly.

He couldn't believe his ears. This was the first time she'd ever mentioned it in all his years in the hospital. The first time he'd heard anyone talk about the incident since they questioned him as a child. He shook his head slightly. He made eye contact with his twin, who jumped slightly at the sight of so much emotion on her brother's face. A red flush settled on her cheeks, and she looked away.

"It's so late," he rasped.

"It's never too late, Sheik," Zelda said firmly, quietly. "You know as well as I - "

"You know we can't do anything," Sheik interrupted in a sharp, biting tone, and Zelda flinched. His fingers tangled in the bedsheets, and he struggled not to grind his teeth in frustration. It had been months since he felt anything; years since it was this intense. He didn't know how to cope anymore. "We told them what really happened, and what did it do for us?"

"Sheik - "

"They locked me up! They ended my life before it even started!"

His throat burned from his outburst. He'd have to call in a nurse for some tea.

Zelda's eyes watered. Sheik wished he could feel something else, some guilt, but it had faded all over again. She twisted the hem of her shirt and cleared her throat, fighting back tears.

"I found someone," she repeated, pulling her phone out of her purse, "and I think you should meet him."

"Zelda - "

"I'm going to fix this."

She hit 'send' on the text she'd typed out and waited expectantly. Sheik tried to make eye contact, but Zelda wouldn't look at him. She kept twisting and pulling at her shirt. He thought he saw a tear fall, but he couldn't be sure, because she had turned completely away from him an instant later.

In a few moments, there came the familiar, soft tapping of knuckles on the door. Zelda rubbed her eyes and called out to the visitor.

"Come in. Close the door behind you."

The door opened, and in stepped a man. Short, but a little taller than Sheik, he wore a simple t-shirt and jeans with beat up sneakers. Sheik glanced at Zelda, who was smiling at the man despite her red-rimmed eyes, then back at the stranger. What in the world? She said she'd found someone to help them, but this guy didn't look like he had any experience in - well - anything.

"I'm Link," the man greeted warmly as he took the other seat beside Sheik's bed. Shaggy blond hair fell to his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes met Sheik's own dull red, the only thing between them a pair of glasses. His smile combated the warmth of the sun, washed away the icy cold of the room.

His voice was entirely too loud.

Sheik covered his ears with a distressed noise, flinching violently. His legs curled up to his chest and he turned away from the man, whose brilliant warmth had turned into blistering heat, and his eyes squeezed shut. Zelda made an excessive shushing motion towards Link, who covered his mouth and nodded abashedly. Zelda ran her fingers through her brother's soft hair and coaxed one of his hands away from his ear.

He loathed Zelda sometimes, but she was familiar, and he found himself relaxing against her. Rather like a small child startled by a nightmare, his fingers grasped at her shirt, matching the indentions she'd made herself earlier, and his eyes fixed on Link as Zelda's fingers continued their rounds through his silky locks.

"It's alright," she cooed. "Link's just a bit of an idiot. Nothing to fear."

Sheik shook his head, eyes slipping shut again. "Just startled," he sighed softly, the first words he'd uttered in Link's presence. The man felt a little awkward in the presence of their bonding, and made to look away.

And then they glowed. It was just a soft sheen, a little glimmer, as though the overhead light was blue and reflecting on them. But it wasn't, and it was more like a sort of radiance, as though they were creating it themselves. Link removed his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his shirt. When he put them back on, the glow only seemed brighter.

"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered in awe. "You were telling the truth."

And just like that, the light vanished. Zelda nodded, almost triumphant, but Sheik only stared at him, tilting his head, ruby red betraying nothing of his thoughts. Link waited for him to say something, question him, deny something, but nothing came out. He'd forgotten Zelda telling him Sheik didn't talk.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Link brought a suitcase to his lap that Sheik hadn't noticed before. The patient sat up, and Zelda looked a little sad at the loss, but she let her brother's curiosity win.

"Zelda told me about the incident," he said, those cerulean eyes glinting. Link popped open the clasps on the worn leather, and showed the case was full of documents - some yellow and weathered, some brand new with a scrawl that Sheik supposed was Link's own. "I've been researching for years into . . . well . . . that sort of power."

"Power," Sheik repeated blandly. Link nodded sagely.

"And then your sister came to me when I thought I knew everything. I finally found you. The last one."

He looked so excited, and for an instant Sheik was unsure of everything, unsure of this man or his intentions. But the joy on his face was so childish, full of innocent intrigue, and it was almost cute. Link shook his head, a little embarrassed, and cleared his throat again. He held a notebook out to Sheik, locking eyes.

"I've been looking into your case. That attack wasn't random, and it wasn't an attack against your family."

Sheik tilted his head, flipping open the front cover of the notebook. An empty page with the word Farore scrawled in the middle. He glanced back up at Link, who had gone from an excited child to dead serious in seconds.

"The rabbit hole goes deeper than you think."