Fado is surprised when a stranger opens the door to Link's house. That is, until he realizes that this is no stranger.
"Link?"
As far as outward appearances go, Link is scarcely different. But it's his eyes that Fado doesn't recognize. Once vibrant and filled with laughter and warmth, now they are dark and dull, wary and exhausted. His mannerisms are so different, too; he keeps his hand on the door and doesn't open it all the way. It's almost as if he's trying to hide. Behind him, the house is dark, the curtains drawn over the windows to keep the light out. Similar shadows darken Link's face, and Fado feels something like fear stir in his chest.
"I, uh, just wanted to see if you..." Fado hems and haws, and Link's eyes follow him dully. Fado musters his courage. "...if you wanted to come down to the ranch later, bud. The goats miss you, I reckon, 'cause they're bein' extra ornery today." It's not entirely true; the goats are no more ornery than usual. It's Fado who misses Link.
But the stranger behind the door steps back and refuses his invitation, his face covered in shadow and his eyes dark and weary. Fado peers more closely at Link and sees his own fear reflected in his friend's eyes.
"Link, I..." he begins, but something raw flashes in those terrible blue eyes and the door slams in Fado's face.
Fado swallows. "Alright, bud. G-good to see ya, anyhow." He makes his way back to the ranch looking more dejected than anyone's ever seen him.
.
.
.
Link leans heavily against the door until Fado's footsteps fade, and then his legs give out on him and he crumples, curling into himself, covering his head in his hands, and Midna's voice rings loud in his head and it pounds against the insides of his skull.
"Link, I..."
He balls his hands into fists and buries his face further into his knees, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. The old familiar grief awakens anew and tingles at the tip of his nose, turning it red, and the bottoms of his eyelids flood with tears that threaten to escape down his cheeks.
"See you later."
A sob wrenches from his throat and he clenches his teeth and lets the tears fall.
It's not fair. It's not fair and she's gone and he'll never see her again because the mirror's broken, shattered, infinitesimal pieces glittering in the dying light before disappearing into the sand; he'll never see her again because she was afraid of hurting him, so she broke the mirror of her heart and she looked at him so fiercely as she faded away he knew she loved him just as much as he loved her.
And it wasn't Fado's fault he reminded him of her, poor Fado who only wanted to make things better. But it's hard to forget someone who knew every part of you, every last broken piece covered in blood and tears and sweat and fear, who felt your every wound as her own and loved you enough to let you go.
Link swallows the damn bitter tears and just sits there, his shoulders still shaking with suppressed sobs. He ought to apologize, really he ought to, but there's a horrible darkness eating away at him and it terrifies him and he's just so afraid he's gonna hurt someone if he's not careful.
And Midna's eyes are there in front of him, gleaming and red and they make him remember so many things, horrible things, and there's blood on his hands, and maybe it belongs to a monster and maybe it doesn't, maybe it's his own because there's a horrible hurting in his chest like he's been pierced by a Bokoblin's arrow, flaming and sharp. There's sand on his hands, too, and his fingers are shaking, and terror sends his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears and he's fumbling to nock a bomb arrow before the ReDead can get any closer, he can see its bandaged limbs dragging along in the shadows and its gaping maw filled with crooked teeth and the empty voids where its eyes used to be and the empty void where its soul used to be. And all of a sudden his bow isn't there anymore and the monster is so close he can taste its breath on his face, and he can't move, he can't move because the ground is soft beneath his feet, sinksand, and it drags him down, drowning him, and he can't breathe and it's dark and he can't see anything and all his senses are dull except for his hearing and he can just barely make out a voice, her voice, rasping in his ear, she's dying and he's a wolf again and rain's beating on his back and he has to make it to the castle, he has to make it to the castle before she—
.
.
.
Everything is dark. Someone's hand is on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He opens his eyes and he realizes his cheeks are wet and his nails are digging red, angry furrows in his palms and he's shaking and he can't, he can't stop shaking.
"Link, calm down." Uli's voice sounds from behind him and she rubs his shoulders to comfort him, her hands expert at comforting; she is the closest thing he's ever had to a mother, after all. He goes limp under her touch and leans into her, a sigh shuddering through him. The, the trembling is still there but it's getting better, and the energy drains from his limbs and he's just exhausted and covered in a cold sweat like he really did just fight that battle and run halfway across Hyrule with a dying imp on his back.
The memories threaten to overwhelm him again but Uli grasps his shoulder and squeezes, anchoring him to her. "It's alright, Link, you're safe," she murmurs, and she moves from behind him to kneel in front of him, her eyes searching his. And she looks so worried and there's love in her eyes, a mother's love for her son, and he knows she'd do anything to take this pain away from him but she can't, so she draws him close to her heart and just holds him there, whispering words of fierce apology and comfort and sorrow, and Link stops trying to hold back the fear and the pain and the terrible, terrible sorrow, and he just cries against her shoulder, and she lets him, and she doesn't let go for a long time.
.
.
.
Later, she tells Rusl about this.
"He seems to be getting worse, not better," Uli reports as she sits on the couch, fingers flying as she crochets to keep her mind off her worry. "I know we meant well when we decided we'd leave him be, but he needs someone now, Rusl. We can't keep leaving him alone like this, he's going to hurt himself."
Rusl stares into the fire licking in the hearth, lost in thought, his fingers curled against his beard. Colin sits beside Uli on the couch, keeping a careful eye on his younger sister, who's now barely two years old and becoming more troublesome by the minute.
Uli remembers watching Fado trudge down the path toward the ranch, looking more heartbroken than she'd ever seen him. So she made up her mind to drop in on Link to make sure everything was okay. The Link she knew before would never have rebuffed Fado so as to crush him like this. Still, Link had changed so dramatically after the children were taken and he was swept up in some quest to save Hyrule, a kingdom that wasn't even his to save. Yes, he was undoubtedly Hylian in descent, but Rusl and Uli had found him as an infant, abandoned in the woods, and he'd never known any other life outside of Ordon until that day when Rusl asked him to deliver a sword to the royal family and Uli's whole world was turned upside down. That day Link left a boy but returned all grown up, and with a dark, almost feral gleam in his eye that left Uli troubled.
Her mind made up, she entrusted the care of her daughter to Colin for the time being and set off down the path to the clearing where Link's treehouse was. Her first attempt to open the door was unsuccessful, as if something was blocking it, but she gently pushed it open, and then she found Link on the ground, shaking like he was having a waking nightmare. And he was crying, her son, he was crying and his shoulders were tight with fear and pain, so Uli dropped to her knees and shook him, tried to convey her love and her presence through her hands, and he grew stiff and then softened, still shaking with sobs, and she held him until he was too exhausted to move.
Uli can hardly imagine him facing another episode like this, and she certainly can't imagine doing nothing about it when he does.
"He needs someone to be there for him," she decides, and Rusl nods in agreement, until Uli makes it clear that she is the one who wants to care for him.
"Uli, you can't," he says firmly, looking at their daughter. She understands at once but doesn't feel any better about relegating the job to anyone else until Colin pipes up.
"I know who can do it."
"Who?" Uli stares at him intently.
His eyes shine, confident in his answer. "Ilia."
And Uli breathes a sigh of relief. Of course.
"Ilia."
.
.
.
She accepts the position, of course; it's the least she can do, even if things haven't been the best with Link lately. He refuses to look at her, most days, doesn't respond when she speaks, doesn't answer questions, won't even say much more than a curt goodbye if she's lucky. Still, she thinks maybe if she spends more time with him, he'll finally open up and let her in.
The look of relief on Uli's face dispels any lingering ideas that she is doing this for purely selfish reasons. At least, that is what Ilia tells herself, anyway.
So she prepares for a day spent in the stifling darkness of Link's treehouse, assembling a basket of food (thoughtfully including an apple and a carrot for Epona) before she sets off down the village path to the clearing in the woods where Link is. She imagines a day spent in silence, but somehow it's not stiff or uncomfortable in her head, and he looks at her once or twice and says something, at least. She keeps this image in her head as she walks, swinging the basket in her hand absentmindedly.
Uli waves from her porch and smiles and says nothing, watching until her two-year-old gets into trouble and diverts her attention elsewhere.
It's for the better, then, that Uli isn't watching when Ilia steps into the clearing and sees the empty space where Epona usually stands and the door left ajar to an empty house, the curtains fluttering in the wind.
Because she drops her basket, shocked, upset, probably even angry, because this wasn't what she'd wanted, this isn't like she imagined, he was supposed to be there like the predictable paper doll he was in her head, he was supposed to laugh and talk empty words and let her fix him to make her feel more important than she really is.
She's too proud to go back to the village a failure, so she waits and hopes he'll return before the sun sets over the treetops, that he'll return and she'll be able to fix him, after all.
But the hours pass until suddenly the setting sun paints the clearing gold, and there is only an empty space in Ilia's heart where Link is supposed to be.
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A/N: This thing is ancient, written back in May shortly after "This Wasn't Supposed to Happen." But it's been too long since I posted anything, so here's a little taste to tide you over until I manage to pull together something that's both new and worth your time. Blame Hyrule Warriors for the long absence and for the inspiration to start writing again (Twili Midna is ruler of my heart, though Young Link's looking to usurp).
Enough of my prattling. If you're still here let me know with a few kind words.
As always, reviews are much appreciated.
With love,
godtierGrammarian
P.S. Apologies for Ilia's characterization. I had a grudge.
P.P.S. Realized I put the wrong story for what this is a prequel to. Major whoops. Fixed it now though.