When Link awoke, he felt a surge of pure panic. It was completely black, and he was numb; he couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. For one absurd moment he thought he was dead. Then he came to his senses.
Link pushed himself upright, feeling pain sing in his muscles. His mouth was as desiccated as a desert, his lips cracked and bleeding. At first he was merely confused. And then the memories hit, cascading onto his brain as though a floodgate had been opened up. He felt as though he couldn't catch a breath. Then, as the whirling turmoil of emotions began to settle down, he realized what had woken him up – loud voices outside of his cell.
A slit open in his door, flooding the cell with light. Link could make out two dull brown eyes.
Then the door opened.
A bright screen of light pierced his eyes like daggers; he threw an arm up over his face.. More guards stood before him. The same guards, in fact. He eyed them apprehensively over his sleeve.
"Up," said the one in front.
Figuring it would be useless to disobey, Link stood up.
"Come," growled a different guard.
He stepped forward; they seized him and pulled him roughly down the hallway, their grips so tight that he couldn't feel his arms. Eventually they reached the doorway of what appeared to be a small, dirty lounge. Link could see several people inside, sitting idly around a table.
They pushed him inside.
Link stumbled a little, feeling the blood gush back into circulation in his arms. He turned around to the guards, who were watching him in the doorway. "What is this?"
"Your new home," said one of them in a deep, rumbling voice.
Link stared at him, waiting for clarification, but the guards merely looked back, stony-faced. Eventually a female voice said from behind him, "Boys. You can go. We'll explain everything to him."
A soft hand touched Link's wrist. Reflexively, he pulled away.
"Steady there," said the voice. He turned, taking in the sight of a tall, statuesque blonde with her hair thrown back into a sharp ponytail. She was dressed in a faded gray, unbecoming uniform, and that, coupled with the broom in her hand, suggested to Link that perhaps she was a very low-ranking worker. She raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. "He'll do."
"One more thing," said a guard. Without warning, he grabbed Link's left hand. Link thought for a moment they were going to brand him with a hot poker, like he was a criminal or cattle. But the guard only took what appeared to be a fingerless glove and slipped it onto his hand, clamping it shut.
"What is this?" asked the woman. "Does he have a deformity or something?"
The guard shrugged. "Orders." He turned to Link and spoke curtly. "You are not to open that or take it off. You are never to bare your left hand. Any attempts to open the covering will break the bonds, and if we find they are frayed in the slightest, you will be flayed within an inch of your life. Do you understand?"
This was so bizarre that Link was at a loss for words, but he managed to nod.
"Okay, let's get you settled in," said the woman. She flashed a smile at the guards. "Take care."
Their faces softened into returning smiles.
"Take care yourself," said the guard in front. He bowed, and then they were gone, shutting the doors behind them. Link heard the lock of a door and felt his last hope for escape deflate like a punctured balloon.
"I'm Samus," said the woman, extending a hand.
He shook it. It was calloused and scarred, and he felt a sudden gush of respect. "Link."
"I like you, Link," said Samus. "You carry yourself well. You're proud, like me."
Link smiled uncertainly.
"Let me introduce you to the others," said Samus, gesturing to the other people seated at the table. They were all staring at him. "You guys, come up and meet Link."
Cautiously, like one pack of wolves meeting another, they sauntered up to where Link and Samus stood. They were all dressed in the same drab gray uniform. Perhaps they were all workers. Perhaps he was the only insane one here. Link tried to push the uneasy feelings away.
"Hi," said one of them cheerfully. At first glance he appeared to be twelve years old. But from his timeless eyes and the lines of maturity on his face, Link assessed that he was much older than he looked. His bright blue eyes and ruffled brown hair gave the appearance of friendliness.
"Hello," said Link quietly.
"That's Pit," said Samus. "You're not shy, are you, Link?"
"I bet he's just overwhelmed," said a girl kindly, a stunningly pretty blonde who seemed to remind Link of someone. Her voice was the highest, breathiest soprano he'd ever heard. "I'm Peach. Hiya!"
"And I'm Marth," said the last of them, an older-looking boy with blue hair and eyes to match. He shook Link's hand. "You're a swordsman."
"How can you tell?" asked Link, surprised.
"It's not hard," Marth replied. "One swordsman can always pick out another."
"Well, that's all of us," said Samus.
"No," Marth corrected. "Not all of us."
They simultaneously looked at the corner, where a dark shape was huddled.
"Oh, yeah," said Samus, her nose wrinkling. "Over there is Snake." Her voice dropped. "He truly is mad. Madder than the rest of us, at least."
"He's always talking to himself," said Pit with disgust.
"He can't help it," whispered Peach.
"Well, it's still weird," said Pit. "He's got this weird conspiracy. He thinks everybody is out to get him." He shook his head.
Link instantly felt better, knowing that there was somebody crazier than he was. Then he felt worse. Hadn't he debated the same thing? Hadn't he thought that there was some scheme going on, that perhaps somebody was out to get him?
To distract himself, he asked, "So are you guys workers?"
They all laughed heartily.
"What?"
"We're patients, honey," said Samus, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Just like you."
"Like me - ?"
"Yeah, kid," said Marth, grinning. "According to the orderlies, we're all totally batty."
They all nodded, exchanging amused looks as though enjoying some private joke.
"And you're okay with that?" asked Link, bemused. "I mean, you don't question it or anything?"
"We did," said Pit sadly.
"But it all makes sense, you know," said Marth, the grin falling from his face. "The reports, the memory loss..."
Link's head snapped up. "You lost your memory too?"
"Well, yeah," said Marth, looking startled. "That's one of the main signs of..."
"Of what?" asked Link. He was getting frustrated with their complete acceptance of it all. "Insanity isn't just one thing...it can be a bunch of different things, a bunch of different disorders. And it's subjective. Sometimes what's mad to one person is perfectly sane to another."
When they just stared at him, his voice rose. "Who are they to call us crazy? What do they know about us? They've never even spoken to me! For all I know, they could have forged that report!"
"Better be careful," said Marth lowly. "You're starting to sound like Snake."
"Maybe Snake's right," said Link recklessly. "And there is something going on here. Something more than we think."
Pit stood up from his stool. "Link, I get where you're coming from...really, I do. But we all remember being crazy. We remember hurting people, yelling for no reason...it was awful."
Peach shuddered delicately.
"Wait," said Link, confused now. "You remember? I thought you just said you lost your memory."
"We lost it at first," said Pit, sitting back down and fumbling with something at the back of his shirt. "But they make you go to therapy sessions. After a few of those, you start to remember."
"But you wish you wouldn't," murmured Samus.
They looked at each other with sad, knowing eyes, letting the silence thicken with the impact of her words. Link's skin crawled. If what they were saying was true, then...perhaps everything Steele said was the truth, also. And soon, he would start to remember all of the insane acts that he had supposedly committed, all off the dangerous antics he had exposed the villagers to. He felt very sick.
"So, let's go through the daily schedule, shall we?" said Samus, her arm still around Link's shoulders. She nodded toward the mops in the corner. "Every day we wake up, take our showers, eat our breakfast...and clean. We have certain chores we have to do, like mopping floors, wiping windows...you know, that sort of thing."
She let her arm fall and strode toward the door. "After lunch, once a week, the orderlies take us to different counselors' offices for a therapy session. Sometimes we do group therapy, sometimes not. They usually don't take long – an hour or so."
"What are they like?" asked Link apprehensively.
"Sort of hard," Samus said.
"Hard?"
"Emotionally. They drill you about a lot of stuff you don't want to think about." Her face hardened. "Sometimes they make you feel horrible. Other times, they make you feel great. Either way, I think I'm getting better."
There was a long silence. To break it, Link asked, "If we don't have therapy, what do we do?"
Samus looked grateful. "Lessons," she said. "Over our pasts, over the world around us – everything we've missed. Sometimes we train physically. You look like you'd be pretty good at that."
"Don't forget about the tests," piped up Peach from the corner.
Samus snapped her fingers. "Oh yeah! The tests. Once a month, they test you to see if you're getting better."
"What sort of tests?" asked Link curiously.
"They ask you some really weird questions," said Samus. "Logic-based, mostly. Like...eh, hey, you guys, what was the one with the boxes and the apples?"
"Damned if I remember," said Marth, twirling a mop like a sword.
"I remember," said Pit mildly. "It was...something like, 'There are three boxes -'"
"I thought there were two -"
" - no, no, three. It was, 'There are three boxes. One is labeled 'APPLES'. Another is labeled 'ORANGES'. And the last one is labeled 'APPLES AND ORANGES'. You know that each one is labeled incorrectly. You may pick one fruit from one box you choose. How can you label the boxes correctly?'"
"That's right," said Marth. "I got this one wrong."
"Everybody did."
"Three boxes," mused Link, "and they're all labeled incorrectly...and you can only pick one fruit..." He frowned. "Uh..."
"Hard, isn't it."
"Give me a minute." Three boxes...labeled incorrectly...He looked down at the tabletop, thinking. "Well, if they're all labeled incorrectly, then the one labeled 'APPLES & ORANGES' is incorrect, correct?"
"Correct," said Pit.
"So it's safe to say that if you take a fruit from that box, and it's an apple, then all of the fruits in the box are apples. Same with an orange."
"Right," chimed Peach.
"So if you take an apple, then that box would be 'APPLES'. And that would make the other box that says 'APPLES'...that would make it 'ORANGES', right? And the other 'ORANGES' box would be 'APPLES AND ORANGES'." Link tried to sort it out in his mind and felt a small ping of triumph when he did. "There, that wasn't so hard. Was I right?"
"No," said Pit.
The others weren't smiling anymore.
"Oh." Link was disappointed, but he shrugged it off. "Okay. What's the right answer then?"
Pit shrugged, looking bleak. "Nobody knows. But I used the same answer you just told me, and they told me I was wrong. They don't give out the right answers – they only shoot down yours."
After a pause, Link asked, "Has anybody ever gotten one right?"
Everybody shook their heads, looking glum.
"And the only way you get out is to pass?"
"Passing the tests is only part of it, though," Pit explained heavily. "They also measure your progress through the therapy sessions and the school lessons. And your behavior, of course."
"Isn't there any kind of medication?"
"Oh, yeah!" said Samus, clapping a hand to her forehead. "Link, I totally forgot! You're supposed to take your pill today. Everybody has to do it," she added in response to his questioning look.
Link felt suspicion kindle inside of him. "Are you sure they're not -?"
"What?" said Samus, suddenly unfriendly. "Drugging us?"
"Well, yes." He could feel himself bristling. "Are you saying you just obediently take this medication without even knowing what it does?"
"Link, stop being paranoid," she snapped. "We told you, it's not some big conspiracy. " She settled into a stool. Link slowly sat down next to her. She took a deep breath and looked at him."Sorry. Snake has burned out all of my patience with this kind of nonsense. I have to remember that you're new."
"The pill helps restore our minds to normal," said Pit quietly. He started pulling his shirt over his head. "We can feel the difference, too. All of this is real, Link. Steele was telling the tru -"
"Good Goddess!" Link gasped, falling backwards out of his stool. He hit the ground hard; a constellation of darting silver stars emerged before his eyes.
"Link?" asked Samus in alarm. Marth burst out laughing.
Link leapt to his feet, ignoring the dull ache that was spreading up through his spine and chest. "He has – those are –"
"Oh, yeah," said Pit in mild surprise, tossing his shirt aside. "I have wings."
He did; they unfurled like maps, large and feathered and magnificent. Link stared on in wonder. This was unlike anything he had seen in Hyrule.
"You like 'em?" said Pit, ruffling his wingfeathers and smiling broadly.
"They're...unreal," Link breathed.
Peach and Marth were both giggling like schoolgirls.
"Thanks," said Pit happily. "Unfortunately I can't keep them out like this...because Marth's a wimp..."
Marth abruptly stopped laughing and glowered at him. "I'm allergic!"
"Yeah, 'allergic'," muttered Samus.
Marth rounded on her angrily. "Do you guys think I have a weird phobia of feathers or something? I really am allergic! My face swells up and I sneeze a lot –"
"Really?" said Pit, cocking his head. He plucked a feather off of his wing and held it out to Marth. "I'd sort of like to see that."
"Somebody hold him down!" shouted Samus.
Marth fell over in his attempt to get away from them; cussing, he scrambled to his feet and retreated to the farthest wall while Peach, Samus, and Pit laughed until they couldn't breathe. Link was still too fascinated to join in the festivities. He stared at Pit's snow-white wings until the angel tucked them against his back, lashed them to his body with a belt, and pulled his shirt back over his head.
"Ah," Pit sighed. "It's always nice to let them breathe."
"So where are you from?" asked Link. Surely not from Hyrule or anywhere around it...
"Angel Land," said Pit. "You?"
"Hyrule."
"Ah."
Link knew of the other worlds, of the other universes that existed parallel to his own. The Mushroom Kingdom, Altea, Dream Land...it was rare to travel between them, but rulers often met with other rulers to discuss peace treaties and alliances. A war between worlds had not happened for hundreds of years, but they did happen, and they were devastating. However, Link did not know much of other worlds beyond their names.
"Where are we now?" he wondered.
"Damned if we know," said Marth, still pressed against the far wall.
"Well, I think that's enough questions for now," said Samus with finality, touching his wrist and pulling him toward the back of the room. "Link's gotta take his pill and change into his new clothes."
He felt his old instincts rear up against the idea. "Actually..." He stepped away from her touch. "I'm tired...I think I'll just..."
"Aw," laughed Samus. "He's self-conscious!"
"What? No, I –"
"No need to be shy," she said. "We're like family here."
She grabbed the ends of his shirt, and before he could protest, yanked it up over his head. She waved it around, laughing playfully.
"You'll get over that shyness if I have anything to do with –"
She stopped abruptly.
As Link stood frozen, totally nonplussed, Marth stepped forward, craning his neck. "What? What's..." His mouth fell open. "Jesus."
Everyone stared at his chest, at the thick bandages that lined every surface and the countless scabs that peppered the skin in between. Their eyes raked his arms, taking in the smaller, puckered scars they had not noticed before. Some old, some fresh. Samus reached out a thin, cool hand and touched his neck, tracing a scar there that had been previously hidden by the shirt.
"What happened to you?" she whispered.
Link snatched back his shirt and yanked it on. "I fell off a horse."
"Into what?" said Marth, almost sounding awed. "A bed of nails?"
Link suddenly felt tired and fed up. He turned away, desiring nothing more than to take a hot bath and go to bed.
"I don't know," he said. "Is there a shower here?"
"Yeah, there's one in the back," said Samus slowly. "But Link, are you sure it's safe to get those wet?"
"I don't know," he said again, and left her standing there.
The shower was small but clean, and the water was freezing cold, but he was so glad to be clean that he didn't care. He scrubbed every surface with the gritty bar of soap, clenching his teeth when the wounds stung. It felt nice, almost fulfilling, to be rid of the grime that had built up on his skin. Several times he pulled curiously at the brown, fingerless glove that shielded most of his left hand from view, but it was unrelenting. Eventually he gave up and let it be. Besides, it was only mildly annoying, and the punishment for breaking the small bonds that held it together was too severe to be worth it. He pushed his curiosity away.
He threw his head back, letting the water slide like rain down his face, contemplating everything that had happened. He half-expected to wake up to reality, but if the cold, refreshing feel of water on his skin didn't jar him to consciousness, then perhaps this was reality. He absently traced the paths of the gashes in his skin, now scabbed over with dried blood. Then he made a decision. He would cooperate. He would attend therapy, and take the medicine, and try his best to pass the tests. It was his only option left. He would not be like Snake, curled up and muttering about conspiracies. He had to at least try – he had to try and get better for the village children. With his motivation clear in mind, he shut the shower off and wrapped up in a towel.
A small bundle of gray clothes lay at the edge of the shower. He pulled them inside the obscurity of the curtains and slipped into them. Now he truly was one of them.
Shaking the water out of his hair, Link walked out to join the others, dropping the wet bandages into a trash can as he went and ignoring the painful chafing of the shirt against his injuries. Samus bounded forward to greet him.
"Oh, Link, you look adorable," cried Peach from the table.
"He's alright," said Samus indifferently. Then she smiled, shaking a pill bottle in front of his face. "Ready for your meds?"
"Yes," said Link, perhaps with more intensity than was necessary.
Samus spilled one into her palm. He picked it up, hesitated for only a second, dropped it into his mouth, and swallowed.
"Oops," said Samus. "You probably should have eaten something first."
"That's alright," said Link dismissively. "I'm really not hungry."
He waited to feel something, but there was no change. Perhaps the pill really was harmless.
"We should probably go to bed," said Pit, standing up and stretching. "I call the cot by the sink."
"That's my cot," complained Marth.
"If you wanted it, you should have called it."
"Samus!"
"Rules are rules, Marth," said Samus, rolling her eyes. "They're all the same freakin' cot anyway, why does it matter? Help me get Link his bed."
They all helped to pull a new cot out of a small closet and opened it up. It was thin; when Link tentatively lay down, he could feel bars through the bedding. Like everything else, it was impeccably clean.
"Thanks guys," he said, and he meant it. Unusual trust began to blossom within him. He felt like he could tell them anything, could trust them implicitly with every secret he had. Had they asked, he would have spilled about his insecurities, his childhood crushes, his family...It was both an exhilarating and a strange feeling. They were truly friends now. They were all bound together by one thing – their insanity.
How funny, he thought as he murmured his "goodnight"s to the others and closed his eyes. Friendships can be formed from almost anything.
And with this newfound trust on his mind, he drifted off to sleep.