FicWad

Sheik thumbed through the pages. Sketches of women, all in a similar style, with various regal outfits. News clippings and printouts glued to pages, all absolutely ancient, most highlighted. Any page that wasn't scrapbooked was covered in an untidy scrawl. He got a general idea that these things, or people, or whatever, were some kind of ethereal creatures. He didn't really care.

After the page labeled "Farore" was an entire section that filled half the notebook, and after that, a page with "Din" written in the center, with a decent number of pages filled behind it. At the end of that section was a header labeled "Nayru," and there was very little in that section - only a printed article and a few pages of that same messy handwriting.

Some part of Sheik wished he cared enough to ask why, but he really, really did not care. Instead, he politely set the notebook on his nightstand after pretending to have skimmed it (rather than having just stared blankly at the pages).

Zelda and Link were deep in whispered conversation. Sheik could hear them quite clearly, of course. Very little of any noise in the room went unnoticed by him. He simply did not care what they talked about, good grief, he really didn't. Something about the things written and collected in that tattered old notebook. Sheik heard the word "Farore" in a hushed tone, which confirmed his suspicions.

He was getting tired. There was entirely too much noise. Even with the low tones his sister and the detective (if he even was a detective; his ratty clothes made Sheik rather skeptical) were using, the constant buzz of noise was a nuisance, and he felt a headache coming on, his ears already starting to hurt. Sheik wanted them to go away. He wanted them to leave so he could curl up under his blankets and sleep. This was too much noise and human interaction for one day.

Link paused in his hushed tone when he realized Sheik was staring - or rather, glaring quite conspicuously. He wondered if the man could hear the constant mantra of get out of my room that was playing over and over in his head. He really hoped he could, however unlikely it was.

"Have you finished reading already?" Link asked, cerulean blue eyes widening in surprise. Sheik narrowed his own eyes, shaking his head. No, I didn't read your stupid fairytale scrapbook, he wanted to say. Instead, realizing the prolonged visitation had him getting cranky, he remained in judgmental silence.

"He's stubborn," Zelda said apologetically, looking down at her hands, which she was starting to wring anxiously. She did that a lot. She also spoke for Sheik a lot. He did not fancy that. "I . . . I don't expect him to take part in this much."

She shouldn't. Sheik turned away rather petulantly, staring at the wall. He wanted no part of this wild fantasy his sister and this random man were partaking in. He did not know why Link's presence had him feeling so many things, regardless of the fact that none of them were positive. All he knew was that something weird happened the night his childhood and life ended, and that speaking of it landed him here. He did not want anything to do with it. He did not care.

"He hasn't much of a choice," Link muttered.

He did not care. Sheik was going to let them leave and was going to request to his nurse that he never see them again. He was going to spend the rest of his dwindling teenage years, and then his adult life, in this bland white room with the bland white decorations and the bland white-scrubbed nurses. His entire life, free of their fantasy, free of their nonsense. His entire life -

"Sheik?" Link's soft voice called to him.

He. . . did not want to spend his entire life here.

"Look at me," the detective crooned quietly.

Sheik relented. Ruby-red met a bright sky once more. Those eyes were so gentle, gentle and yet full of life. Full of life in a way that Sheik had never seen. Not that he got the chance to observe many. Link reached out, hesitated, and then his eyes traveled from Sheik's hand and back to his face in a silent request. Sheik did not know what compelled him to obey, but slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it in Link's. The man smiled, a thousand watt smile that seemed to light up the room with genuine joy, and a soft, startled noise left Zelda's lips. She looked on with wide eyes and a jaw hanging slightly open.

"I know this is a lot," Link began, quiet, slow. It was surprising how quick he had caught on to proper etiquette; most people continued to yell and yell until it made Sheik cry. Something fluttered in his chest. He ignored it. "I'm sorry. But this is really important. I wish I could express to you how crucial it is that you work with me."

Sheik's eyes narrowed at his tone, at the simplicity of his words. He snatched his hand back and crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at the wall once more. He should have known better. Everyone treated him like a child with nothing but basic language comprehension skills. Why would Link be any different?

"Sheik," Zelda tried, imploring, but Sheik interrupted her.

"Explain it to me," he ordered. His voice was strong, demanding, and he startled himself with it, flinching at the way it reverberated in the room and the way his throat protested aggressively.

Silence greeted him, and irritation threatened to grow, but then, miraculously, Link began to talk.

"When I was young, I was bullied," Link said.

Sheik hesitated, but turned to look at him as he spoke. Oddly enough, Zelda was watching him, too. The detective had his forearms resting on his thighs and his fingers linked together, and uncomfortably enough, he was staring right at Sheik. He wanted to look away. He wasn't sure what stopped him. Link continued.

"I guess I wasn't bullied so much as generally got into a lot of trouble. I wasn't exactly innocent in middle school, but I like to think I wasn't the asshole back then." Link's lips split into a self-conscious grin. "I kind of was a little shit. I picked fights, and more often than not, got beat up pretty bad."

Sheik was confused. What did this have to do with anything? He was on the verge of kicking them both out and going back to sleep, but something compelled him to let Link finish, so reluctantly, he kept silent.

"One day, it was . . . bad. I was defending a friend, and got in way over my head." Somehow, that was not surprising. "There had to have been seven or eight of them, off school campus, and let me tell you, I did not have a great track record as far as winning fights. I was sure they were going to kill me. I had accepted my fate.

"And then something . . . happened. There was this warmth. All the anxiety I was feeling from just looking at those kids completely vanished."

Sheik flinched, eyes wide in shock. He met Link's gaze and wanted to be angry at the knowing look he saw there, but he couldn't. This story was familiar.

"And then there was a voice in my head," Link continued, voice soft, knowing he had won the battle. A battle Sheik had not even realized he had waged. "She was passion. She was courage. She told me, 'teach them a lesson,' and I did."

They will not hurt her. They will not hurt you. We will not let them.

"You know."

Link was still quiet, words still soft, and yet triumphant. And he was right. Sheik knew. He knew. He knew what Link spoke of, had felt it himself. He had experienced the sensation of calming warmth spreading like the waters of a gently lapping ocean from the terrified thoughts in his head to his numb fingertips, had felt that sweet presence blanket him and erase his fear, had heard that soothing voice that oozed with reassuring confidence.

He knew. He had known it that night, and he had never known it again.

"I know," Sheik repeated, bewildered, overwhelmed. Link reached forward and patted his hand.

"I know," he said, an odd sort of gut-wrenching sympathy in his voice, and that only confused Sheik more. "I won the fight. She was Farore. She loved me." His smile was so fond, so full of affection. "I love her."

What was Sheik supposed to do? Was he expected to say something? He had absolutely no idea what he even could do or say in this situation. This was madness. He wanted to tell Link so, but he could not. He could not sit there and be the pot calling the kettle black. Not when he knew exactly what Link spoke of. Not when he had experienced it himself.

"Who . . . who was she?" he asked, voice trembling with both uncertainty and the effort of speaking once more. He wanted to clarify. He didn't care about Farore; his vague interest was not enough to pursue the topic. Who was she? Who spoke to Sheik? Who protected them?

Link seemed to understand, though he squinted ever so slightly at Sheik, looking slightly baffled. "Does she not still speak to you?" he questioned in return. It was Sheik's turn to look confused. He shook his head. "It must have something to do with . . . well. I'll explain that later." His smile returned, and Sheik allowed himself to forget the concern that spiked at the detective's uncertainty. "I believe she is Nayru."

Nayru. Sheik remembered the name written in sky blue ink, remembered how little information Link had on her. How did he know it was her, then?

"Should she be talking to us?" It was the first time in a long time that Zelda had spoken, her eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed in the way that Sheik knew meant she was thinking hard. "I - we - haven't heard her voice since that night."

"Farore never shuts up," Link told her, sounding amused. He sobered a little, rubbing at his chin in thought. "I have theories. I'll keep them quiet until I'm more certain about them. What really worries me is that she only manifests when you two are together."

"Is that it?" Sheik interrupted.

Both of them stared at him as if he'd grown another head - what did he mean, was that it? they had just discovered that the twins held an unknown magic inside them, brought on by some kind of creature or deity - but he was serious. All Link had done was validate that yeah, something beyond what the police believed happened that night. Okay, big deal. How did it even matter? Nothing had happened since. He had some lady in his head, and for what? What good had it done him?

"What's the point of knowing all this?" he clarified, getting annoyed at Link's lack of response. The fascination and shock that had kept him alert for the past few minutes was beginning to fade, and he was beginning to feel irritable. He was a fool to think any of this meant anything.

Link looked slightly troubled when he interrupted Sheik's thoughts with a single word. "Ganondorf Dragmire."

Not a word, a name. A name Sheik vaguely recognized, some very distant part of his memory tugging familiarly, but he could not put his finger on it. Surprisingly, Zelda filled him in.

"Our parents had business with him," she explained. "He's a government official with his toes dipped in the military manufacturing pool. He's monopolized the industry, and supplies most of the military's resources."

Link nodded as Sheik took the information as truth, not noticing any part of his memory trying to reject the facts Zelda game him, though something told him that it was not everything, as Link seemed so grave. His voice was so quiet when he spoke next that Sheik could see Zelda leaning in close to listen. At this point, he was sure Zelda had already heard all of this - who knew how much they had talked without Sheik - but it seemed far too important to sit out of.

"He has Din," Link said simply, and for reasons Sheik could not comprehend, a dark chill overwhelmed him. Subconsciously, he reached out, and Zelda took his hand. He could not fathom the feeling, but he did not like it one bit. "He has her and he isn't satisfied with her."

Din, written in red ink. The strong sense of dread that accompanied the news, somehow, Sheik felt, wasn't his own. He was not satisfied with Din? Did that mean he wanted the others, too?

Suddenly, Sheik felt tired. He did not want this. He would not have accepted this little meeting if he had known what he would be told. Something told him that now, a great responsibility had fallen on his shoulders, and he did not want it in the slightest. Couldn't someone else take his place? Someone who had not spent their entire lives like him? Could Zelda not simply go on without him? He may not have liked the hospital much, but he feared what would come now.

Swallowing, he asked, "What now?"

Link had no answer for several moments. He stood without warning, placing his hands on his hips and speaking determinedly. "First thing's first: we get you out of this place."

"And then?" Zelda sounded almost as scared as Sheik felt, and her hand tightened on his.

"And then," Link responded, fire flashing in those stunningly blue eyes, "we go after Ganondorf."