Judgment Days
Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.
Warnings: Language, mentions of violence/murder
Pairings: Link x Sheik
Author's Notes: Thank you for the positive feedback everyone! And yes, Judgment Days does follow, loosely, the plotline of the manga. Though, don't worry if you haven't read it; it's not necessary to the story.
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Chapter Two:
Just a Radio-Cassette Player
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His legs dangled off of the small, wooden platform, booted feet slowly and carelessly swinging beneath him as he allowed the low, hypnotic melody rising forth from the ocarina to sway his limber body. A wave of goosebumps flared up his bare arms as a cool, moist breeze whistled by softly, and in the distance, the old windmill stirred to life, creaking and churning. Lulled by the music of the ocarina, the people extinguished the lights of Kakariko one by one, and night finally fell, breathing moonlight onto the rooftops of the village.
Link could hear muffled noises emitting from the house at his back, the house that Impa had once lived in, and smiled around the ocarina, not at all surprised that Zelda was still awake — probably pouring over more official documents from the King of the Zoras and Darunia. He knew he'd be the one to coax the papers away from her in a few hours, to guide her to the bed and sit by her side until she fell asleep. Maybe tonight, he wondered, she wouldn't be plagued by dreams or visions. Maybe tonight, she'd sleep peacefully.
He frowned.
It had been sixteen days since Ganondorf had been slain. Since then, Zelda and Link had been sharing Impa's house in Kakariko while the Gorons and the Hylians alike labored to rebuild the castle. Sometimes, when they weren't swamped in Kakariko, the two youths would visit the town and spend the day helping out with the reconstruction of the market. Sometimes, when they had received important messages from the Zora, they would travel up Death Mountain to relay them to Darunia. Sometimes, when it was midnight, Sheik would show up and watch them sleep, consequently causing Link to agitatedly roll about in his cot, unable to rest with the man staring at his back. Sometimes, Link just stayed in bed and clung to the Master Sword, staring up at the ceiling wearily.
Sixteen days, but it seemed like sixteen weeks. He counted the days by the creases and lines that emerged from Zelda's exhausted face as time passed.
The song finished, and Link sighed heavily, dropping the ocarina to his lap. Leaning back on his hands, he glanced down, examining the wind instrument with a wistful, longing smile. It was the very one that Saria had presented to him in the Kokiri Forest all those years ago — back when it had been too large for his small, awkwardly clumsy hands. He grinned.
"Think I should contact Saria?" he asked offhand, looking up at the stars painting the sky. When no answer came, his grin disappeared to be replaced with a puzzled frown. Twisting at the waist, he looked over his shoulder. "Navi?"
It hurt when it hit him, and damn, it hit him hard. He remembered, in that silent, shattered second, that Navi was gone, and, in that second of terrible, cruel realization, he was more vulnerable than he had ever been in his life. Inhaling sharply, Link clutched the ocarina, his eyes wide and round — the eyes of a child waking from nightmares. Unbidden, memories of her death rose from the darkness of his mind, memories that he had kept locked, tightly sealed, hidden away for a reason, only to be followed by a whirling torrent of other images he wasn't ready to face.
Crying out as if struck, he drew his legs to his chest, curling up protectively, and violently pushed away the dark, twisted memories, shaking his head from side to side wildly. Scenes of a bloody, broken fairy cradled in his hands flashed through his head, and he shuddered, desperately latching onto other memories, memories concerning the Kokiri Forest, the Skull Kids, Saria, Mido. Finally, when Navi's dying form no longer haunted him, he opened his eyes, shaking, and peered blindly into the night, his shoulders sagging with relief.
"Why did you stop?"
He was on his feet, sword drawn and humming through the air, ocarina forgotten and tumbling to the ground twelve feet below. Steel hissed against steel, and the Master Sword was stilled with a single, wickedly gleaming knife, the only barrier between Link's blade and Sheik's cowl hidden neck.
That moment, frozen, hung precariously as the two young men remained locked in place, paused in their defensive and offensive crouches, their weapons straining against each other. Link was panting, his eyes wide and dangerous, and Sheik was trembling, his arm beginning to give under the powerful pressure of the Master Sword. Then the moment broke, and Sheik darted away just as the Master Sword crashed down, cutting through the air with a scream, and implanted itself in the platform.
Link was still holding onto the hilt, his breathing ragged, and stared blankly at where Sheik had been standing seconds before. The Sheikah was eyeing him warily from where he was safely perched on the roof, his blonde hair silver in the moonlight.
"I apologize," the other began slowly, "for startling you."
Link stumbled away from the Master Sword, horrified at his inability to differentiate friend from foe, and his face flushed angrily. While Sheik was swift and had managed to parry his swing, others would not have been capable of doing so, including Queen Zelda. Link shuddered, rubbing the back of his left hand unconsciously and unsuccessfully attempted to calm his buzzing nerves and the blood racing in his ears. A forced, faltering apology of his own was tumbling off his tongue before he suddenly remembered something.
His eyebrows furrowed, he examined the wooden planks at his feet, chewing on his lip nervously. Then, cursing beneath his breath, he knelt down and leaned over the platform edge, searching through the sea of darkness below, the moonbeams guiding him. He gasped.
The ocarina lay, split into two, upside down beside a large, protruding rock in the cuckoo's corral. Saria's ocarina, broken.
Sheik followed Link's stricken gaze and upon locating the source of the Hero's grief, his facial expression, though very well concealed, became pained. His mouth opened to speak, to say something, and he reached out to place a hand on Link's shoulder, only to find that the man was flinging himself off of the ledge.
Gracelessly, Link dropped to the ground, landing on his haunches, and ignored the dull pain that laced through his legs as he quickly scrambled over to the ocarina — his last connection to the Kokiri, to Saria, to Navi.
To a childhood he'd never had.
A soft thud behind him, and eyes upon his back, but Link promptly disregarded the presence of Sheik, focusing all of his attention and energy on the two pieces of the ocarina in his hands. His chest rumbled loudly, and he fought down the frenzied laughter that threatened to burst forth, fought down the rising sense of hysteria swelling within him.
Hands strangely stable, he meticulously aligned the halves and then carefully pushed them together, watching the jagged crack between them meld temporarily and disappear, only to resurface when he pulled the pieces apart. Link plopped down onto his butt from the crouch, his head bowed, and examined the ocarina haplessly.
Footsteps, soft and muted in the dewy grass, and a hand, the fingers long and slender, hesitantly brushing over his arm.
"…I…I'm sorry, Link."
Link shook his head curtly, dismissing the apology, his jaw tight. He knew it wasn't Sheik's fault. It was his own idiocy and hyperaware instincts that had broken the ocarina. If he hadn't jumped up…if he hadn't tried to attack…
"What do you want?" Link croaked, coughing to hide the weak, childish tremor in his voice as he aligned the two pieces again, cramming the rough, uneven wooden edges together. He experimentally let go of one side; the piece slid off, and he frantically caught it midair.
Sheik didn't immediately answer, and Link, weary, glanced over his shoulder, only to yelp and lurch away when his eyes connected with red ones inches from his face. Scowling, he eyed Sheik warily a few feet away, protectively holding the ocarina to his chest. Sheik sighed.
"The carpenters may be able to fix it," he suggested, his tone awkward and uncertain even as he stood and once again approached, this time crouching in front of Link. He studied the ocarina closely, glancing thoughtfully at Link. "From what I have heard, they owe you anyways for — "
There it was. Sheik's delusional and illogical reasoning. Again.
Annoyance mounted in Link, and winter blue eyes became icy with ire. "Not everyone expects a debt to be repaid," he snapped, bristling at the very thought of demanding payment of the poor carpenters for saving them in the Gerudo fortress. It was something, Link thought resentfully, that Ganondorf might have pulled.
Oh, but wait. This was Ganondorf's trained little assassin, wasn't it?
"From what I've heard," he continued coldly, "it's called a good deed. Know what that is?" His tone was condescending and his manner was immature, yes, but his ocarina was broken, Malon was dead, and Sheik was still here. The rage had been boiling just beneath the surface for the past two weeks, rage that hadn't found an outlet until now. And it served Sheik right, either way. It was blatantly obvious Link didn't appreciate his company, didn't like talking with him, and yet there he was, screwing everything over again. Link didn't understand why Sheik constantly sought him out. Did the other enjoy being hated? Did he enjoy making Link miserable?
"Maybe I do," Sheik answered tightly, his eyes once again too close, too bright, too red. Link swore vehemently, throwing a hand up over his face, cutting off access to his thoughts.
"Stay the hell out of my head," Link hissed, removing his hand to stare at the ground, at the grass between their knees — and why the fuck was Sheik so close again?
"Or maybe," the Sheikah went on softly, looking up at the sky, "I'm just repenting."
"Repent outside of my head." Link wiggled away, this time stretching his legs out as if to ward Sheik off. "What's your problem, anyways? Enjoy digging through people's minds?"
Sheik's eyes hardened. Then, as if contemplating this, he frowned, or at least, Link thought he did. "No…" The other man trailed off, sounding bemused. "Just yours."
They fell silent, with Link staring at Sheik cautiously and Sheik staring at the ocarina pensively. Nearby, the cuckoos quietly clucked as they nestled together, feathers fluffing against one another.
"Queen Zelda could return the Royal Family's ocarina to you," suddenly proposed Sheik, sounding hopeful.
"Does sentimental value mean anything to you?" retorted Link. "You can't just replace Saria's ocarina, asshole."
For a minute, Link was certain Sheik was going to slug him. The visible portion of the Sheikah's face was contorted with fury and his red orbs were absolutely livid. The distinct tightening of Sheik's right cheek also implied that the man was clenching his jaw.
"Why do you insist on making this so difficult?" demanded Sheik, hands curled into fists.
"Making what difficult? This excuse for conversation?" Link laughed loudly, but it was a harsh, acrid noise that made him flinch. "You'll have to forgive me. Growing up, I was never taught good etiquette."
"You've changed," noted Sheik, his tone steely, as he glared at Link. "You're allowing your resentment and bitterness to blind you."
"Nothing blinds me," Link replied darkly. "But sometimes, I wonder how you can see past all the blood staining your hands."
Sheik stood brusquely, nearly knocking Link over. "You're a fool," he snapped, body taunt with tension. But he still didn't leave. He was still there, staring at Link.
"What do you want?" insisted Link, spreading his hands out helplessly. "Why did you come in the first place? Why are you still here? If you have something to say, just say it!"
"I like listening to you play."
Link blinked owlishly, his mouth clicking shut, and looked up at Sheik. A retort was budding on his tongue, but he swallowed it down when he noticed the sincere expression on the other's face. He could feel heat begin to creep up his neck and dropped his eyes, poking the ocarina distractedly. "Uh…yeah, well. Thanks, I guess, but…" He gestured to the ocarina pointedly, shrugging his shoulders.
For the fourth time that night, Sheik invaded his personal space, sitting on his haunches over Link's legs, reaching out silently to pick up the pieces of the ocarina. Link made a strangled, choked noise, leaning back even as Sheik sighed softly and leaned forward.
"…I could…try and fix it," the Sheikah whispered, sounding tentative, uncomfortable. "If…you would let me."
"Okay," Link whispered back, gulping.
Two hands, wrapped and bandaged, gingerly held the two ocarina halves apart, and Sheik, closing his eyes (much to Link's relief), began murmuring words that made absolutely no sense to the Hero.
In fact, Link wasn't paying much attention to his ocarina or Sheik's mumblings. He was more concerned with the realization that Sheik was straddling him. He could feel the warmth of the Sheikah's body seeping into his own clothes, radiating from the man's ankles and calves, which were pressed up against Link's thighs. He considered throwing Sheik off, but before he could put the idea into action, the ocarina was pushed into his face.
"Here."
It was repaired. Not even the crack was visible.
Link stared at it, wide-eyed and gaping, before nearly cracking his neck to look up at Sheik. "Thanks," he breathed, shocked. Suddenly, he regretted their previous conversation. Regretted being so childish and…and…his ocarina was fixed! Joy fluttered in his chest, and he hurriedly stood up, slamming his head into Sheik's chin. The two men cursed, Sheik rolling to his feet and cradling his jaw, and Link falling back down, rubbing his forehead.
"Fuck that hurt!"
"Eloquent as always, Hero."
"Oh, shuddup, you creep."
They paused. Somehow, Link's words had lacked the venom and conviction to be credible. In all truth, they had almost come out…fondly. Link's face screwed up in puzzlement, his nose wrinkling, and Sheik smiled slightly behind his cowl. He walked over, his eyes bright, and held out a hand to Link. The Hero, sighing, accepted and let Sheik pull him up, still rubbing his head.
"Hey, thanks," Link said again, shuffling awkwardly. "You…you didn't have to fix it. It wasn't your fault."
Sheik regarded him silently before shrugging. "Maybe I was attempting this good deed business."
Link looked up sharply, his expression closed, remorseful, but Sheik grinned, and any apology on the Hero's lips for his previous words disappeared.
"But unfortunately for you, I am expecting some kind of payment," the Sheikah continued, his grin evolving into a wide smirk when Link groaned.
"Should've known," Link sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. What do you want?"
Sheik's smirk faded as his face softened, replaced with a sad smile. "I wouldn't mind listening to you play the ocarina…just once more."
So Link played, and as the dawn approached, sending spirals of pinks and purples racing through the sky, Sheik began to play as well. And Link forgot that he was sitting across from Malon's murderer, forgot that he should hate this man. He became lost in memories, memories of a time when he had trusted Sheik, when Sheik had been one of his only friends in a dark, dying world, when he had played together with Sheik and everything had been okay.
But Link couldn't help but think, as he felt himself grow drowsy listening to the melodic harp, that everything might be okay after all.
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Author's Notes: Review please!
