A/N: Two more one-shot/drabble pieces for the 50scenes challenge. As usual, Malon/Sheik. The prompt table can be found on my livejouranl under the name doi2life. Note that these two fics aren't connected, other than by the characters. Prompt for the first fic was "Underneath", and for the second, "Liar".

Disclaimer: I own them not.

---

Layers

She thinks, one evening, watching her boys --because they really are her boys now, ever since the princess abandoned them-- jump around as metal clashes and limbs swipe out (Link is getting good, but Sheik is still better) that he is like an onion, perhaps. Not Link, of course. Oh no, Link is as easy to read as one of her horses; he wears his emotions on his sleeve... or, well, more like on his face. He didn't yet understand the importance of hiding things from others, because, really, why would he need to? After all, that honesty, the brutal and open emotions that are so clear, is what draws people to him. Like moths to a flame... No, she is thinking of the taller boy, the Sheikah, whom she met less than a month ago.

An onion, she decides with a bit more conviction. Many layers upon layers, some thin, others thick, and peeling them back can make you cry. (She winces as her Fairy Boy misses a step and goes flying, and realizes that she probably should have brought out some bandages earlier.) He is complicated and simple all at once, with so many things and secrets hidden deep within, and yet he is what he is, and pretends to be nothing else. There are so many faces to him that to count them all would make her head spin and her heart leap, but to not would mean never knowing him at all, and she can't have that, because he is one of hers, and therefore she must know him. (Absently, she places a hand against her forehead and wonders when everything got so complicated, and she likes to think that perhaps she saw a small glimmer of concern in his ruby eyes.)

But she is being silly. Onions are meant to be peeled, after all. Or chopped, but she certainly doesn't want to see him under a large knife. (The image makes her smile, though.) So she will continue her own little quest, which she took up three weeks ago. One that Link does not understand, but Navi suspects. One that Sheik approaches cautiously but allows her to do so, perhaps because it's been too long since he's had anyone to really trust. She will continue to peel, layer after layer, each time discovering a new depth, a hidden taste, ignoring her own tears and sweat and, sometimes, blood. She won't stop until she has seen everything there is to see, until there are no more hidden layers to him, and then she will let him go, because that's what you do when you love someone, and he will need time to gather those layers back again and heal, and she will wait. Because he will return to her, because that's what you do when you love someone.

It's a selfish mission, perhaps, but a much needed one. He needs this. And so does she. Because they've both been hurt, they've both been lost, and now they've found each other and for the time being, that's enough. (She stands up, her legs protesting the sudden motion, and calls to them both, informing them that she'll be starting dinner now. She'll make soup and boil eggs and lay out fruit, because that's his favorite meal, although she doesn't say that last part aloud. And Link grins and sheaths his sword, quite obvious starving to death, and beneath his mask, she could swear she sees Sheik smiling at her. And then Link goes flying again, because, really, it's a stupid thing to do, leaving your guard down, even when the battle has ended, and she rolls her eyes and ignores the way he's laughing silently, because that's a layer she hasn't reached yet, and she wants to do this right.)

---

Truths

She doesn't listen when Link talks, anymore. She's tired of the half-truths and the sugarcoated stories. She is not a child; she does not need to be protected. Sometimes, it seems, he forgets that she has lived in this world for seven years longer than he has. It isn't his fault, she knows rationally. It's in his nature to want to protect her. To keep her safe. She knows this. She knows that he still sees her as the innocent child he met in the marketplace, and that he's trying to keep that no-longer-existing innocence safe, but it still makes her angry when she asks how his latest adventure went, and his eyes become shadowed and he gives her half an answer. She doesn't push him, but she doesn't listen when he talks, because she doesn't want to hear half-lies.

Perhaps that's why, when he started to talk today, she walked away without looking at him. She no longer asks him to tell her what had happened, because it is pointless, and instead she leaves a glass of milk on the table and ignores him when he starts to talk. It's easier that way. She doesn't have to let herself be hurt by his false words, after all.

Epona's coat is filthy, and her hands come away caked in mud when she runs her fingers through the soft fuzz. She pulls a face, but there's no real emotion in it, and she lets her clothes get dirty as she begins to absently wash away the muck and grime from her old friend. She hears footsteps behind her, her sharp ears attuned to the sounds of the ranch and anything that doesn't belong, and knows instinctively who it is. Link does not walk that softly, even on grass.

"He's not trying to make you angry." The voice is calm, soothing, but the words are not, and she lets herself get angry at them just because it's an excuse to feel something.

"Of course not." She snaps, fingers pulling a little too hard on Epona's reins, and the horse pulls back in irritation at the rough handling. "He never does, does he?"

If her words upset him, he doesn't show it. Instead, he extends out an arm and gently pats the horse's head, and she wonders how he managed to come to stand beside her without her knowing. He speaks again, and she realizes that his mask is down, and that he is speaking to her openly and freely, and perhaps she should listen a bit more carefully. "He loves you very much. He simply doesn't want you to worry."

She frowns at that, and the frown goes from confused to irritated when his lips quirk up at her in amusement. Feeling more annoyed than angry now, her wounded pride sufficiently patched up, she offers off-handedly, "He's an idiot." And then she smiles when he laughs --open, honest, and real-- because these are tough times, and laughing is now the exception, not the rule.

Epona knickers loudly, suddenly, and she realizes that she has been staring at him and her fingers had stopped their slow and easy affections. She begins them again, quickly, and he withdraws his arm and smiles at her. She smiles back, and then looks away, because she doesn't like it when people see her blush. To cover it, she asks easily, "Will you get the real story for me, please? I'd like to know how he got that cut on his back."

He nods and walks toward the house without looking back, because he doesn't want to embarrass her by catching her blushing again, and she has to wonder when it was that Sheik became the peacemaker in the household, Link became the liar, and she herself got caught in the middle.

---

A/N: Please review. Your opinions matter.