A/n: Ah, look, a Taylor Swift-inspired fanfic. I'm a true fangirl now, right? ;) You know, there was something I really hated about this story, after I grew and became a better writer. I refused to look at it, the way I still do now with most of my older fanfics. I think that's because, when I wrote this, I was a very different person. I wasn't who I am now, and I hated who I was. She hated herself. Now, I don't hate myself. I've gone through a lot. I'm learning who I am, and frankly, I like it. Things are pretty good for me right now, and I don't have much – anything – to complain about. Right now, I want to thank those who reviewed the first version of this, my first landmark story. This, and reworking it, is a testament to my growth. It's not too much different, but a good portion is rewritten, and nearly everything is reedited in some way. I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading.

Also, this is a bit of a farewell to the Stupendous Jimbo - this was originally my entry to his contest, and though the content doesn't really have any relevance to him, I credit him as a huge help into my little fanfiction career. Thank you for everything, Jimbo!

Back to December (Ver. 2)

A tear, a break, and a cry can mean so much.

They can build someone up, they can raze someone effortlessly, they can be the starting point, they can be the last sentence of the story.

The things people say are irreversible. Once the words are out, they're never coming back.

In that sense, words are like birds: you let it escape, and then you can never catch it.

But as long as they're in a solid cage, they're safe.

The sky sparkled like a firework from its stars that freckled the earth below. A young man paced beneath it, his hand on his chin as he shook his head in disbelief.

This was never supposed to happen. This wasn't the plan. This shouldn't have happened to him. To them.

A single tear leaked from his blue eye and trickled to the uncaring ground. He brushed it away impatiently, ashamedly.

He thought about running back and begging. He thought about coldly retrieving the ring.

Abruptly he dropped to the ground and laid there, searching the skies above for the answers she so solidly denied him.

Why?

Seven years to that day, an aging woman walked through the same trail as the young man had. Nowadays, they weren't exact young people – he was thirty-five and she thirty-two. So many things had changed, and she wasn't sure if she could bridge the gap, but by God she was going to try, no matter how loud her fears laughed at her. She'd built her character upon facing her fears, hadn't she?

She experately wound her way up the twisting, snowy path, biting the inside of her cheek. She was nervous, but not terribly so; not as she much as she expected to be, anyway. She found that being here, now, actually doing what she'd dreamed of for so long, was not as nerve-wracking as laying awake at nights, wondering what it would be like, was. As she stepped over a few fallen branches, up the path she was relearning, her mind spun back to seven years earlier...

And memories cascaded upon her. The day she'd first met him: his deep laugh, echoing around her and throughout her mind for the rest of the month, for the rest of her life, honestly; his bright eyes, so much more compassionate than any she'd ever seen before; the stirring feeling she'd instantly rejected. It'd been summer then, so much warmer than the wind that swam around her now.

Autumn had arrived in a blaze of swirling leaves and mysterious joy. Every time they'd touched, her heart had pounded. Finally, after multiple reflections and questions, she'd realized she loved him…and really, she'd known all that time. She'd just refused to admit it.

And then the cold came; winter crept in with its crippling chill and darkening doubts. That one night…

She pulled herself out of her memories with some difficulty, but she managed it, and she thought that was the important thing. The idea to cry crossed her mind, but she ignored it. Where would weeping get her? Instead, she breathed in deeply, also ignoring how shaky it sounded, and continued up the path.

She reached the meeting point, and found herself simultaneously crestfallen and relieved. There was a part of her that wanted so desperately to see him; yes, she was ashamed, but she still wanted to hold him, to look at him, to see how he changed. But part of her wished he would leave her waiting here forever.

Just as the cold began to seep to her bones, he stepped out of the trees. His silhouette looked exactly as it had the last time she saw him; of course, the last time she'd seen him had been as she ran away. Ran away like a coward from everything that scared her, to chase every unrealistic dream she knew could never become reality…

His cloak sashayed behind him as he neared her, disturbing some crystalline snow. Her breath caught in her throat, but she swallowed it in a gulp, smiling weakly and awkwardly as he approached. As his handsome features became clearer, she studied the details anxiously. They looked nothing different from the first time she'd seen him: impassive, strong, and unfathomable.

Yet she knew there was a passionate man behind his blunt manner. She'd seen his warm smile, the way he'd held her in his arms that unexpected night. It was the first time he'd shown any sort of emotion; it was the first time she'd seen his true character. It was the first time he saw her scared, burned, broken.

He stopped in front of her, just close enough to touch, but of course she dared not. His expression remained unchanged, though he appraised her shrewdly. Despite her urge to, she refused to drop his gaze. Sorry didn't mean cowardly.

And she was sorry, sorry from the whole of her heart, from her deepest being. But she wanted to show him she was still herself; the same person he fell in love with. Unfortunately, it also might be taken as the same person who hurt him; but maybe, just maybe, by the end of all of this, he would see that she had changed that.

She shivered in his gaze, and finally, they broke eye contact as he wordlessly draped his cloak around her shoulders. She give a short smile of gratitude, and he merely nodded back.

And for a second, breathing in his scent, it hit her yet again of what she must have done to him. How much it must have stung – and she wasn't saying that to flatter herself. She was only thinking if their places had been reversed.

But she was here to attempt to set things right – if not perfect, or forgiven, just right.

She spoke first, asking quietly if a walk would be in order. He suggested around the trail, and she could only nod. The sound of his voice acted like a laceration from his own sword: she gasped abruptly, and endeavored to compose herself. How weak was she?

The grass snapped under their heavy footfalls as they walked slowly through the forest, the mood somber. She was again the first to speak, and a bit of small talk was traded between them. How was everything going? How was Marth? She hadn't been in contact with him for a while. Oh, Marth was doing great, as was he. He'd been very busy lately. His work? His work was demanding, as always, and he hated being away from home. Yes, the weather was rather chilly lately. Not very surprising for December.

This died out quite quickly, and a tense silence spanned between the two. They went on, gazing about themselves deliberately, looking anywhere but each other. She knew what she needed to say – she just didn't know how.

And then, the trees cleared around them – and she could feel his barriers rise around him like a steel wall. While inwardly she sighed, she was a little bit glad to know that she still knew him, at least a little bit, like she used to. As they trudged through the snow, they reached the place: the clearing where she'd admitted what she was truly feeling stood in front of them – though they both knew everything she'd proclaimed had been such a lie.

Her heart sank, and she was back in December:

There was his face as he realized she was breaking his heart; every excuse she'd spit disdainfully at him; the way she saw him crumble on the inside; her own mind corrupted by contempt and conviction.

Tears now welled freely, hotly in the corners of her green eyes, but she did nothing about them. They were unimportant, and right now, they only displayed the story more clearly in front of her.

There was where she'd flung the diamond ring to the ground, where it had lay glittering in the desolate snow – she hadn't known the mistake she was making. His contorted expression as he stared at her in harrowed amazement and the utmost pain she'd ever seen – it bit her now. His insists of her wrongdoing; the way she'd laughed wickedly, asking if he thought he was irreplaceable; his horrified and broken tears as he gazed pleadingly at her. That look was the one that tormented her now as they slowed in the clearing. He, of course, was thinking of these things too.

She didn't crumble, she didn't collapse; she fell to her knees, head down, hair trickling around her as she stared numbly at the ground. And then the sobs came, quiet, nearly whispered into the snow around her. While he kept his face smooth, a hitched intake of breath was drawn in, but she didn't hear it. She didn't want to.

Seven years ago to this day, the moon had shone brightly and happily. Despite its cheerful beam, Samus had walked alongside Ike restlessly. She was strained and agitated, partly from self-restraint, partly from doubt. A terse conversation later, he'd knelt to the ground, and her jaw had dropped. Honestly…it had to be that night…

She'd thrown the proposal back at him, all her emotions, doubts, fears, everything colliding in one awful tantrum. And the regret that caused her hell since then began.

Finally she stood up, his cloak billowing around her comfortingly. Her face was blotchy and red, but she brushed off her lower legs with what dignity that was almost comical. However, as she locked gazes with him, he was transported to another year…

The year they'd met, when she'd meant everything to him. How precious it was to see her smile. How amazing it was to hear her laugh, how indescribable it was to be kissed by her. She was the most worthy woman in the entire world, and she'd chosen him, the most undeserving of them all…

But that had been long ago. Long before insomnia wrecked him and the words she'd cried with such venom haunted him as he stared out into the night. Her expression as she ran from him, her claim of freedom…

Now he stared nonchalantly at her, as cool as could be, yet it pierced her far more than an angry gaze would have. His complete withdrawal from her was the last thing she had ever wanted, though seven years ago, it had been her excuse for her fear.

The time was now, and the words that had been mustering themselves in her throat and heart for the last few weeks, months, years, rolled off her tongue.

Here she was, standing in front of him, no matter how much it hurt. She was swallowing her pride, all her pain, because she wanted to be on good terms with him again. She was horrified at what she had done, and she was sorry. Yes, sorry; she knew it didn't hold much weight, but whatever it did hold, she wanted him to take it and more. Most nights were sleepless, and every day she thought about him. And she was so sorry. So, incredibly, terribly sorry. She knew if she could, she'd go back to that December and change her own mind. The things they'd had when she'd been with him were beautiful…why she couldn't have realized it at the time, she wondered that every day. Everything she had said about freedom…

She didn't take her eyes away from his as she spoke, nor could she had she wanted to. His gaze was still phlegmatic, and it continued to hurt her more than she'd thought. But ultimately he had to show some sort of recognition of the confession she was making; and he did so as her apology escaped her lips. He flinched, breaking the stoic look in his eyes. A small sort of relief quenched some of her rueful thirst, but barely. His guard was as strong as he, and he sealed up the crack as she began to despair again. Bravely she regained her voice for his well-deserved apology, but it died anew as her main excuse presented itself to the expectant clearing.

Finally he was human again: he smiled mirthlessly, wryly. In that voice that called up her anguish more distinctively than before, he repeated her last word. It rang around the frigid meadow, as his grim smile disappeared along with his composure; he cried out, banging his fist into a tree, demanding why she had done it. Why? What had her 'freedom' led her to?

She knew this was not her time to explain, even as he hurled question after accusation at her. She took it all; there was not an allegation that could be proved false. Her actions had been inexcusable, unforgivable, unforgettable…did she really know all the sorrow she had caused him? Could she ever begin to comprehend the pain he'd suffered? She had been the only thing that meant anything to him…even now, she was still the only thing he would die for, he would give his all for...

And she wanted to yell back at him. She wanted to jump forward, she wanted to argue with him, but arguing for argument's sake, not because she believed she was right. It was slightly ridiculous, she knew, but there was a small part of her, of the old proud Samus, that wanted to tell him off, list everything he did wrong.

But what he had done, before she'd run off, wasn't important. Neither was what she had done before her big mistake. None of that was important, and both of them knew it.

Then, his final, whispered statement defeated her defiant wall, knocked her back, and reminded her just why she loved him, and why she was here.

He looked her in the eye and told her how all of it was vanishing, sacrificed for her 'freedom.'

In words as broken as her heart, she told him the reason she'd come back: as it turned out, freedom was nothing but missing him.

Her words hung in the air as he halted, his breath coming in short increments of opaque air. She could do nothing but watch as he turned slowly to her. His face was distorted with nothing less than bewilderment. She couldn't exactly fathom why; this wasn't the first time today she'd told him she was sorry. But maybe it was the severity of her words: she admitted her largest lie, her biggest excuse, had been her greatest downfall and folly. Maybe he understood it now.

That night, he'd said some beautiful things. Before she'd so cruelly and irrationally crushed his dreams and what should have been hers, his proposal had been dazzling, breathtaking…

He'd said how the ring had meant his undying love for her. It stood for everything she was: goodness, courage, loyalty, beauty, love. With that ring he intended to wed her; with that ring Ike had wanted to keep Samus in his arms forever, because he had known then what she didn't understand until now: one would never be content without the other.

He pulled his hand through his navy hair. He had been so good to her, so right…

He had really been the one.

If only she could go back to December, if only she could change one thing…

Though his shock was subsiding, somewhat, as he walked up to her, it almost seemed an involuntary action. Her face must have somewhat mirrored his, plenary bafflement and disbelief. She merely gazed at him, hoping, hoping.

His lips were useless as he tried to form a word. Maybe it was rue that silenced him so totally.

He shut his eyelids, his face white. In a daze, she listened as he murmured her name, reluctant to let it go. It felt like she was being called back, as he whispered it the way he once had.

Then through the stifling cold and bitter snowflakes, she felt something warm grasp her hand. In astonishment she released her gaze from his and directed it at her fingers. There Ike's hand was holding hers gently, softly; she could only gape.

As his voice had acted like a blade twisting through her, his grip healed it instantaneously.

She snapped her head up. The instant she saw his face, she knew something was different. It was not harsh or confused anymore. Instead it was as beautiful as seven years ago.

His rugged thumb brushed across the top of her hand, but it was not as it had long ago. It did not secretly spell out affection or passion; instead, it was consoling and forgiving. Now his expression caught up with his action: his eyes were compassionate, but she could see the dolor there, the grief that would eternally rest in his eyes from her decision. She was sure it would always be in her too.

The ring she should have worn seven years ago sparkled on her fourth finger now as she pulled her arms around his neck; he noticed it with contrition as he wrapped his strong arms around her. Sorrow emanated from the hugging couple, repentance for everything that had happened flowing into him from her act of closure.

If only, if only…

A voice bellowed Ike's name, a young voice, high and innocent. Its owner's footsteps were pit-pattering up the path, and Samus saw the surprise on Ike's face transform into anxiety as they parted. Not quite understanding, she watched in curiosity, but the knot in her stomach was twirling painfully at his worry.

A child burst into the clearing, and immediately she understood. She caught her only love's look at her as he scooped up the little boy into his arms, kissing his face lovingly. Instantly she turned away, before the tears could shame her, before she ripped out her stupid heart for all the agony it was causing her.

As Ike embraced his son, another person called his name, and Samus could hear the laughter in her voice. It was the voice of an angel, also one she knew well, one that flew on mirth and good times, that rejoiced in her happy life and contentedness. Everything Samus had once had, could have had now.

If only she could go back to December…

She prepared to run, but hesitated.

Ike's hand was reaching toward her. How she longed to take it, but she knew that wasn't what it was for. As his son hugged his neck excitedly, the plain gold band on his father's fourth finger drew her blurring eyes, and she wondered how she could have been so foolish as to miss it.

So foolish as to reject it.

Ike looked in her eyes one last time. He searched deep within them, and she found many things: she saw his forgiveness, his misery for the way things had ended up, his acceptance of her leaving, and one last thing.

Love for her was deep in Ike's eyes, and Samus knew she would always be in his heart somewhere, even if that ring on his finger was pledged to his wife, and the diamond ring on her own hand didn't rightfully belong to her. Yet at the same time it did; she knew, in that love pooling in his beautiful eyes, that the ring still meant every single thing it had meant seven years ago, and it would never change.

In that sense, love is like a bird. If you let it escape, you can never retrieve it. But if it's kept in an unchanging cage, such as a heart, it is safe.

Because true love is never lost…even if we have to lock it away forever.

Samus ran out of the frozen meadow before Zelda appeared.

A/n: Well, tell me what you think! Thanks for reading, please review, and I hope you enjoyed.

~Araceli L