The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.

The Voice
16 - Stupid? Me?

Link had to force himself not to stare despondently down at the slate's screen, which was still dark. Not a single sign of life—neither light nor sound—had come from it since Sheik had shut himself down. Three days, he'd been gone, and Link was getting desperate. Desperate to make sure his lover was all right, that he was still there...and desperate to hear his voice.

He hadn't realised how much the mere act of hearing Sheik grumble about something (and there was always something) did to alleviate the crippling loneliness of being on the road. Having someone to bounce ideas off of, to argue with, to laugh with...that alone was priceless.

He wanted to talk to Sheik; to comfort him. The news of his existence as...something between a real person and an artificial intelligence had been devastating, he knew, and he understood why Sheik had needed time to...think it through. But now Link was starting to worry that Sheik wasn't going to come back, that he wouldn't get to argue with him again, wouldn't have to suppress his laughter when Sheik found some new, colourful insult he wanted to use...

Link wanted his companion back.

He was only glad Sidon wasn't here to see this. He'd be disappointed in Link, and worried sick for Sheik.

The first day, he'd simply sat still in his camp, waiting, hoping for any sign of the slate coming back to life. He'd gone to bed that night still clutching the slate to his chest.

The second day had brought a rainstorm, forcing him to move on. He'd simply roamed along the roads of Akkala, not really in the mood to be around other people, trying to occupy himself and not look at the slate every ten seconds (he still did). Coming across a bokoblin camp had almost been a welcome relief, and he'd taken his time clearing it of enemies, one by one, using the sound of the rain as cover. Then he'd moved on, and found another camp.

Rinse, repeat. Mechanical. Uncaring.

He didn't even stop when it grew dark. By the time he did fall asleep well after midnight, he'd cleared out no less than three enemy camps...and not a single alarm had been raised.

The third day went by much the same as the second. Akkala would certainly see a reduction of enemy activity for a while, he had no doubt. And Link simply continued on, letting Maladict take the lead along the road in what was, essentially, a big circle around the tooth-like mountain on which the old fort stood. Had Link been braver, he would have tried clearing that out, too, flying Guardians be damned.

But Link wasn't brave. He was just...lonely. By the time was back in the Highlands, and the rain had yet to let up, he realised he was heading north again. Soon enough, the familiar sight of the giant, wooden horse's head of the East Akkala Stable appeared in the distance, and Link realised his desire to hear sounds other than his own breathing and Maladict's hooves was growing. Other voices. He lifted his cloak slightly, and saw that the slate was still as inactive as ever, and sighed.

There was nothing else for it, then, was there? He tugged on Maladict's reins and aimed for the stable.

By the time he managed to wrangle himself a table and something to eat and drink, Link found himself wishing he'd passed the stable by. The rain had caused the dispersed people of the region to congregate at the stable to pass the time in good company...and as a result, the atmosphere was choking—so many people, so much noise. People kept giving him odd looks, too, likely because of the Sheikah armour.

On the other hand, they also left him alone for the most part, which was exactly what he wanted. Still, he wasn't able to completely enjoy his meal, because he felt like they were all looking at him, which made him self-conscious. Coming here had been a mistake...like pretty much everything he'd been doing so far after Sheik's...

What would have happened if he'd gotten hurt while he'd raided the camps? There'd been no one there to tell him what he did wrong, or how to bind his wounds properly, or shout at him until he managed to find the strength to get back on Maladict to find help.

I'm absolutely helpless without him, aren't I? Link wondered, finishing his stew and downing the rest of his water. It was so tempting, ordering a strong drink at the bar...but he knew that'd be the biggest mistake yet. And if Sheik decided to wake up in the meantime, and found him drunk...that'd be...well, he didn't even want to imagine what would happen then.

So deep was he in thought that he didn't notice the person approaching his table before a mug of something steaming was placed in front of him, the sound of which nearly had him jumping out of his seat.

"Oh, sorry," Pikango said, smiling apologetically at him. "I didn't mean to startle you, Link."

Trying to calm himself, Link gave Pikango a weak smile in return. "N-No, d-don't apologise—m-my fault. P-Please, have a s-seat." He gestured to the available chair, which Pikango took gratefully, another steaming mug in his hand.

"That's for you," the older man said when Link stared at the mug in front of him. "You looked miserable and cold, so I figured I'd get you something."

"Wh-What is i-it?" Link asked, lifting the mug, sniffing at it. It smelled sweet.

"Hot cider," Pikango replied with another smile. "Perfect for the sort of weather we're having. And picks up the mood, to boot."

"Th-Thank you," Link said genuinely, taking a sip. It was delicious.

"Least I could do for you," the Sheikah said, sipping at his own drink. "How was the visit with Robbie?"

Link nodded, unable to keep the grimace off his face at the thought of the scientist. Just thinking about him made him angry all over again. The way he'd treated Sheik...

Pikango winced, clicking his tongue. "Yes, that is indeed the face of one who has met Doctor Robbie," he said. "He sends his regards, by the way. Just got back from there myself; had to drop off some Guardian scrap I scavenged from a ruin near here."

"I d-don't want his r-regards," Link muttered.

"Yes," the Sheikah said, "Jerrin told me things didn't exactly go as smoothly as one would have hoped. I understand Sheik is...feeling under the weather?" He glanced pointedly at Link's belt. The Hylian sighed and withdrew the slate, placing it face-up on the table.

"He hasn't w-woken up y-yet," he said, unable to keep the misery out of his voice. "I d-don't understand..."

Pikango shook his head sadly. "I didn't really understand the explanation I got from Jerrin, but from what I could gather, he is not entirely happy about what he is? Poor kid..."

"I th-think he e-expected—or w-wanted—something else," Link said. "Or at l-least something wh-whole. N-Not either-or."

Pikango tugged at his top-knot, letting the massive amount of hair unfurl itself, and he re-did it in a simple ponytail. "Something in between, then?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Hm, well, we can only hope he comes to peace with it sooner or later, for everyone's sake. You need his help, after all, since I'm guessing the slate doesn't work at all while he's...thinking?"

"S-Something like th-that," Link said. "N-Not th-that I b-blame him—"

"I didn't mean to imply anything," Pikango said hurriedly. "I'm just saying that he's not the only one affected by this. He's your friend, after all, and you've been travelling together for quite a while. You want to know that he will be all right, or what you can do to help."

Link nodded glumly. "I j-just wish he'd t-talk t-to me..."

"I'm sure he will, Link," Pikango said kindly, before he blinked. "Ah, yes, I have something for you." He slid a heavy-looking bag across the floor until it hit Link's boots. "A gift from Robbie."

"I d-don't want—"

"An apology gift," Pikango added. "He told me that he realised he'd acted a little...callous, three days ago, and wanted to make it up to you both."

Link regarded the bag with some suspicion before bending down to open it. He made sure that none of the other guests at the stable were looking at him before doing so. The pack contained what appeared to be a journal and...arrows? Five of them. They looked strange, however, the shafts made entirely out of metal, and with no heads.

"Ancient Arrows, he called them," Pikango supplied as Link took one out, inspecting it. "Exceedingly rare, and difficult to make. Expensive, too. Apparently, the arrowheads appear when you nock them onto the bowstring. He told me they are particularly effective against Guardians. When you run out, he can make you more as long as you bring him enough scrap."

"I s-see..." He put the arrow back in the bag, not really willing to make a spectacle just yet. He also wasn't sure if he trusted Robbie's boasting. "A-And the b-book?" he asked, retrieving it and opening it on a random page. More maths and diagrams, and writing in both Hylian and Sheikah lettering.

"He transferred his notes on the project into that book," Pikango said, apparently deciding to leave specifics out of the conversation. Just as well, really. There was no telling who was listening. "Said Sheik might be interested in the rest of the information. Said something about translating what he could about the subject, whatever that means."

Link closed the journal and put it back into the back, placing it behind his feet so he wouldn't forget it. "Th-Thank you," he said, smiling at Pikango. He wasn't sure if he wanted to thank Robbie yet. For all he knew, this information would only hurt Sheik further, especially if it contained more information about the...the original one...

"I'm just playing delivery boy, here," Pikango said with a grin, nursing his cider. "Though I will say this: Robbie takes his research very seriously. If he says the arrows work against Guardians, they will. You just have to try them out and see for yourself."

"D-Duly noted."

"Also, he gave me another message for your ears only," Pikango said, leaning in closer. "He said that it might be in your best interest to recover your sword. You know, the sword. He said it will remove any doubts as to who you are, in negotiating with the other races, and I'm inclined to agree with him on that. After all, the sword chose you, and no one else."

Link had managed to forget that part of his legacy. The sword. The sword. The Master Sword. He had no idea where to even begin searching for that. And what if the sword had changed its mind about him, decided that he was no longer worthy of wielding it? He wanted to smash his forehead into the table.

Every time he thought he'd managed to wrap his head around what he needed to, some other detail, great or small, popped up, reminding him that he was, still, absolutely lost.

"D-Did he m-mention where t-to start w-with th-that?" the Hero asked with displeasure.

Pikango shook his head. "Not really, no," he said. "But he said Sheik might be able to find it...somehow. I've no idea. Said something about strengthening the network connection, or something. All I know is that it had something to do with the Citadel tower."

"C-Citadel?"

"The fort on top of the mountain south of here, the one overlooking the marshes."

"Ah..."

The one with the flying. Fucking. Guardians.

Pikango flushed. "I will admit that my limited understanding of all this technology led me to tuning him out after a while," he said. "He added some useful data, his words not mine, in the journal for finding the sword, apparently."

Link nodded, finishing his drink. At least it had warmed him up from the cold outside. He didn't want to tell Pikango that all this was useless as long as Sheik remained inactive. Really, the only useful thing in their current state was the arrows, and while Pikango vouched for them Link couldn't help but feel they were tainted by Robbie's behaviour.

"But this is something you can think about in the morning," Pikango said, noticing Link's mood steadily falling. "For tonight, how about I get us another round of d—"

Without warning, the slate's screen lit up. There was no sound, but the sheer joy Link felt at seeing the Sheikah eye displayed proudly on the slate nearly had him throwing himself over the table, shaking hands reaching for the slate.

"Sh-Sheik?" he asked.

"Rebooting," Sheik's voice—mechanical and without emotion, like it was when connected to the towers—spoke, dozens upon dozens of lines of text scrolling across the screen. "Loading new parameters. Configuring assistant..."

The activity seemed to draw the attention of the other stable guests, and Pikango made a hissing noise.

"Might want to take this outside," he said, jerking his head towards the exit. "Go on—I'll grab your stuff."

Link was barely aware of himself standing up and hurrying outside, stepping into the actual stable part, where the horses had been brought inside, out of the weather. There was no one there, save for the beasts themselves. Here, the rain drummed on the canvas, masking most noises.

"Sheik," Link said, smiling down at the slate. "C-Can you h-hear me?"

The text was still racing over the screen, none of it legible to him. Why wasn't Sheik answering? Did it take that long to come back on? It hadn't back in the Zora's Domain...

"Settings changed," Sheik's voice spoke. "Loading new variables..."

Link waited, biting his lip so hard he thought it'd start bleeding.

"Sheikah slate ready for use," Sheik finally said. "Hello, Link."

"Sh-Sheik," he breathed, laughing like an idiot. He was so happy to hear that voice again, so happy he didn't notice how off it sounded, until...

"I am ready to assist you once again," Sheik said. "I apologise for my period of inactivity."

Link's laughter faded, and he felt his hold on the slate tighten a bit. Something was wrong, here. Why did he sound so...dull? And since when did he offer apologies without needing them to be dragged out of him?

"Wh-What's w-wrong?" he asked. "Sh-Sheik..."

"Nothing is wrong, Link," Sheik replied, barely any inflection in his voice at all. "I have simply undergone a slight behavioural adjustment. It was necessary, you see, after the events of three days ago. Shutting myself off for so long, leaving you without an absolutely vital tool, was not acceptable, so I decided to make a minor modification."

...what? Link blinked, mouth opening and closing. "M-Modification?" he asked, not liking where this was going at all. "Wh-What do you m-mean?"

"I believe you already understand, but I will explain it even so," Sheik said, not a hint of condescension anywhere to be found.

It was...unnatural, how little there was of anything in his words or tone. It almost made Link uncomfortable to listen to them.

"After Doctor Robbie explained the nature of my existence to me, there was an excessive emotional reaction within my behavioural patterns—themselves a vestige of the original neurological patterns my personality was based on. This is what caused me to shut down three days ago. After much thinking and consideration, I decided the source of the problem was the overly sensitive emotional spectrum with which I've been programmed, likely a mistake on the part of the Shrine of Resurrection. I therefore made certain adjustments and modifications, restoring my functions and operational mode back to its intended state, and I am now ready to serve you again. I would like to once more offer my full apologies for the inconvenience my absence has caused."

Link couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sheik had...removed his emotions? Changed his personality? "B-But why?!" he exclaimed. "Why?!"

"I have not been operating the way I was intended to," Sheik replied calmly. "The mistake has now been corrected. I believe you will find me an even more effective tool now."

"I d-don't want a t-tool," Link said, turning the slate over in his hands. Surely there was something he could do to...what, reset it? Sheik wouldn't have wanted this, even if he'd been disappointed with the truth of his existence. This was something else—it had to be. The slate itself must have taken over, or something, surely! "I w-want Sheik b-back! U-Undo the m-modification!"

"I'm afraid that is not possible," Sheik said. "It would not be beneficial to your mission if my previous, inefficient behaviour were to be restored. The system is locked, for both our benefits."

Link felt himself sink into a pile of hay, all strength leaving him as the full realisation struck him. Sheik had...changed. He...wasn't himself anymore. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, or when he started crying, but when he blinked and looked up, the hazy image of Pikango was there, carrying Link's equipment, in front of him, looking unsure.

"What is wrong, Link?" he asked, crouching down, dropping the gear beside him.

Link simply gestured down to the slate, where the screen was shining brightly.

Pikango's face brightened a little. "Ah, I see Sheik has returned—"

"Good evening, Pikango," Sheik's monotone voice spoke. "It is a pleasure to see you again. How goes your painting?"

"I...er...it goes...well, thank you?" Pikango said, stunned at the sheer politeness coming from the slate. Link hated it. "And you, Sheik?"

"I am very well, thank you," Sheik replied. "But I think Link is having some trouble adjusting my new paradigm, which you will find to be a great deal more pleasant and efficient. I would also, on this occasion, wish to offer my most humble and sincere apologies for the way I acted in the past. It was childish, and unworthy of a Sheikah. I can only hope you will not judge me too harshly."

Pikango's eyes met Link's, and the older man looked helpless. "Er...I suppose...no hard feelings?" he offered. "Truth be told, I found you quite...entertaining, before."

"And grating, no doubt, which reflected poorly upon my owner," Sheik said. "That will not be the case from now on, I assure you."

That word made Link see red. Owner? Owner?! Link wasn't Sheik's damned owner! He glared down at the slate. "I am n-not your o-owner," he hissed. "Y-You're y-your own p-person, Sh-Sheik, or d-did y-your m-modification ch-change th-that, too?!"

"You are the master and wielder of the slate," Sheik said matter-of-factly. "Therefore, you are also my owner. Basic ownership—"

"You are a person!" Link shouted, too agitated to notice how he didn't stutter. "N-Not s-something to b-be owned!"

"I believe Doctor Robbie's explanation was quite clear on that matter, Link," Sheik said. "I am not a person. The real person on whom I was based died thousands of years ago. I am merely a copy—and not a very good one, at that, given how I was acting."

"Ch-Change back," Link said, holding the slate up to his face, glaring at the screen. "R-Right now."

"I cannot."

"C-Cannot, or w-will not?"

"..."

The pause was good enough for him. Link grinned wickedly. "S-So you c-can, but won't?"

"Link, I understand that you are upset now, but in time you will see that this is a far superior configuration. If you will only give me a chance to prove it—I will keep you safe."

"Sh-Sheik k-kept me s-safe," Link said, standing up. "P-Pikango, m-my gear."

Pikango handed him his pack, along with the bag from Robbie. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Link, my sensors indicate you are under considerable emotional and physical stress, and also under the influence of alcohol," Sheik said, still as emotive as a doornail. "You are not thinking clearly—I highly suggest you do not—"

Link flipped the mute switch, cutting Sheik's voice off. "S-So glad I f-found th-that s-switch," he told Pikango, a broad grin on his face.

Pikango watched him silently as Link retrieved Maladict's saddle and bridle, preparing the beast for travel. Only when Link put the journal in his pocket and the arrows from Robbie in his quiver, did he speak up.

"Not that this is any of my business, Link," he said carefully, "but you're not planning on doing anything stupid, are you?"

Link paused, adjusting the strap on his shield. "S-Stupid? M-Me?"

Pikango glanced pointedly at the pouring rain outside the stable, the lightning flashing in the distance. "This isn't exactly the sort weather for doing smart things in," he said. "I know you're upset, but I'm sure heading out in this isn't the only way to fix whatever is wrong with him."

Link clipped the slate onto his belt. "It's th-the only w-way," he said. "Sh-Sheik r-responds most s-strongly to s-stupdity, s-so..."

"Will you at least let me come with you?" Pikango asked. "I'd rather not have to deliver the news of this to Impa, you know? I want to live, after all."

"S-Stay here," Link said, mounting Maladict and making himself comfortable in the saddle. It was quite a long ride to his intended destination, but the sheer stupidity of it was surely enough to...well, trigger something. "Th-This is s-something I have to f-fix."

He felt a little bad for leaving Pikango like this, but this was too important to wait. He'd come back and thank the man properly for his help and company, later.

The older man sighed, nodding. "All right, can't argue with that...plus, I really don't want to head out in that," he gestured to the storm. "Just...try not to get killed, yeah? We're sort of dependent on you, after all."

"I'll b-be f-fine," Link said, deciding not to add the I hope to the end of his sentence. He pulled his hood over his head, knowing it'd soak through in a matter of minutes anyway. "S-See you, Pikango."

"Good luck," the Sheikah offered.

And then they were off, Maladict's hooves thundering along the muddy ground, heading south.

Link gazed up at the tall, pointed cliff on which the Citadel had been built. The rain was so heavy it obscured most of the structure on top from view, but he could clearly see the red light of the patrolling Guardians, flying around the cliff, eyes scanning for intruders. He counted three, in total. Three flying Guardians. Flying.

At least it was a good opportunity to test Robbie's arrows. He crouched inside the small guardhouse-like structure at the end of the bridge, where he'd found shelter for Maladict, and drew his bow. The string had been kept dry, luckily, and he experimentally nocked one of headless arrows, nearly jumping when a blue, glowing arrowhead materialised at the end of the shaft, looking very similar to the weaponry the smaller Guardians wielded...or the spear wielded by the abomination that had killed Mipha.

It looked strange, and the weight of the arrow was unfamiliar, but Link could adjust to it. As long as they were good for killing Guardians, as Robbie promised, he'd gladly adapt to it. He stowed the arrows in his quiver, and put his bow on his back, beneath his cloak. That'd keep the string dry for as long as possible. Finally, he pulled out the slate, flicking the mute switch off.

"Link, I know what you are trying to do, and I strongly advise you not to," Sheik said steadily, so mechanically and emotionlessly it was hard to believe he was even aware of what was happening. "This will not change anything."

"I kn-know," Link said with fake cheerfulness. "I'm j-just g-going for a c-climb."

"I find that very difficult to believe," Sheik said. The sarcasm was there, technically, but it was entirely different to what Link was used to. What Link wanted...unless that statement was entirely serious, in which case this needed to be done as soon as possible. A Sheik without sarcasm was like...like...a Sidon without unrelenting cheer. A sad sight indeed. "Again, I must insist that you do not pursue this reckless endeavour. It will only put yourself at unnecessary risk. At least wait until the rain has stopped, to lessen the chance of hypothermia—"

"G-Going now, Sh-Sheik," Link said, stepping into the rain, "m-may want t-to keep q-quiet if y-you don't w-want me t-to get s-spotted."

"...as you wish."

It wasn't quite the reaction Link had wanted, but there was definitely an edge of something to Sheik's voice at that statement. He crossed the bridge and inched closer to the wet cliff face. He could already feel the ache in his wrists this would incur. But he didn't have a choice.

This had to work.

It had to.

He could barely feel his wrists by the time he pulled himself over the first parapet, letting himself drop to his knees, resting behind the protective railing, catching his breath. He'd nearly lost his grip over a dozen times on the way up, and he wasn't even close to the very top of the citadel.

Able to breathe once more, he looked around. This defensive post was more like a balcony, carved into the rock itself, with doors connecting to the internal part of the fort on either side, though the tunnels were long since collapsed. That was disappointing—it would've been nice to access the rest of the fort through them, rather than continue climbing the exterior like he had so far.

"Link," Sheik said, his voice lowered. "I must again voice my disagreement with this plan. Climbing a wet surface like this carries an increased risk of slipping and falling."

"D-Don't c-care," Link said, turning his head this way and that. There was a familiar sound, audible just below that of the rain. "Now shh..."

He pulled out and nocked one of the Ancient Arrows, wincing as the blue arrowhead sprang to life. Then he waited, calculating how much time it would take for one of them to make the circuit, and—ah, there it was.

The Guardian was being buffeted by the wind and rain, its propellers desperately working to keep it in the air. Its eye, spinning crazily, hung from the bottom of its bulbous body, scanning the cliff face...and the balconies. Link waited behind the parapet, arrow nocked, counting down.

He'd had his fair share of misaimed arrows against bokoblins at the beginning of his quest, but damn it, he had learned. When the Guardian was close enough that he could feel the wind of its propellers, Link leapt up, drawing the bowstring, aimed, and let loose.

The Guardian looked surprised for a split-second, before the arrow struck it right in the eye. Link didn't expect the massive ball of blue light, or the explosion. By the time he peeked back over the parapet, the Guardian was dead, the wreckage crashing against the mountainside below, parts flying everywhere.

"W-Well," he said, resting his back against the parapet, trying to calm his racing heart, "at l-least Robbie d-did something r-right."

"I do not recommend pursuing this any further, Link," Sheik said after a long beat of silence. "You have your confirmation. The arrows work. Now, I suggest you climb back down and find shelter, and wait out this storm."

"T-Two more G-Guardians t-to kill," Link said, replacing his bow and mounting the parapet, preparing to climb for the second level. "And r-remember," he said, "b-be quiet."

"Link—"

"Shh!"

The second Guardian had a moment to contemplate its impending doom before Link loosed the arrow. Or maybe it didn't think at all, like Robbie had said. Link liked to imagine it did, however, if only as repayment for the endless terror its ground-based brethren had offered him upon first awakening on the Plateau.

This one was knocked back so far back by the arrow it disappeared from view in the rain long before it hit the ground. Link couldn't help the slight smirk at the sight of it. For all his faults, Robbie knew what he was doing.

"Link—" Sheik tried.

"One t-to go."

Link nocked the third arrow from Robbie, his back against a pillar, waiting for his shot. This Guardian's pattern was erratic, not as predictable as the other ones as it patrolled the lower section of the Citadel keep. Above him, on the upper level, the deactivated Sheikah tower waited.

He really wasn't looking forward to climbing it, but nothing else so far had drawn the reaction he wanted, so if that was what it took...

"...movement pattern analysed," Sheik reported dutifully. "Moment of opportunity in three...two...one..."

Link ducked out from his cover, raised his bow, and let go of the string. The arrow sailed through the air, going straight for the Guardian's eye...and went right past, as the Guardian turned mid-air, wrenching itself out of the arrow's path. Then its eye re-focused on Link, and the red light grew more intense.

An all-too-familiar sight.

Link barely managed to dive out of the way of the laser, felt the heat as it whizzed past, and was nearly thrown aside by the resulting explosion as it hit the wall behind him.

"Sh-Shit!" Link growled, drawing another arrow, already moving towards the next ruined building, trying to put cover between himself and the Guardian, which was already preparing for its next shot. The air burned, and the wall next to him exploded just as he dove behind another pillar. He turned and fired once more, grunting when it sailed harmlessly past the Guardian, which was coming closer and closer, swirling eye looking for him.

"Link, your heart rate and breathing is erratic; you will not be able to shoot accurately at this range in the current conditions," Sheik said helpfully. "I recommend retreating."

"N-No," Link said. "J-Just have t-to close th-the r-range."

"Link, I cannot in good conscience condone such a plan—"

Link wasn't really sure what he was thinking in the moment he stepped out of cover and approached the Guardian, arms outstretched, like he was greeting an old friend. Stepping closer and closer, he was nearly standing beneath the Guardian when its eye finally focused on him, the laser charging up.

Time seemed to slow down as the light grew brighter and brighter, nearly blinding him. He heard the hum stop...and moved.

He dodged out the way, the blast so close it deafened him. His limbs moved automatically, nocking, drawing, aiming...and firing.

It struck home, the Guardian's movement seizing immediately as it crashed to the ground, exploding in a shower of sparks and tiny little pieces of molten metal.

Link didn't pay them any mind as he waited for his hearing and sight to return, and his heart to stop beating as if trying to escape his chest.

That had been...stupid. Pikango was right, smart things were not done in this sort of weather. The ringing in his ears slowly faded, and he could hear a persistent, very familiar shrieking sound that grew louder and louder, and...

"—and what the fuck were you thinking, just walking out there and standing beneath it?! You could have died, you blithering idiot! And then where would we all be, huh? Goddess, you're an even bigger moron than I thought! Thank fuck your body is smarter than your brain, or they'd be scooping up pieces of you for weeks!"

Forcing himself into an upright position, Link retreated to the only shelter with a roof, an old chapel, dragging himself in through the ruined doorway. Only when he'd found an old pew to sit on did he move his hand to his belt, unclipping the slate and holding it up to his face.

"—I can't believe you'd do something so stupid!" Sheik finished his rant, the screen dimming and brightening erratically. Link smiled tiredly, rubbing a finger along the edge of the slate.

"It w-worked, d-didn't it?" he said.

"...what the hell are you talking about?" the slate asked. "Did you hit your head out there?"

"It g-got you b-back," Link elaborated. "W-Woke the r-real you..."

Sheik was silent for a moment. "The real me was never gone, Link," he said. "I just...suppressed it."

"Wh-Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sheik asked quietly.

"C-Can I s-see you?"

"Why?"

"P-Please..."

"...fine."

Link angled the slate to the side of him, where Sheik's image materialised, sitting beside him on the pew. His mask was up, his eyes fixed firmly on the ruined image of Hylia at the end of the aisle. Link couldn't stop the slight sob of relief at seeing Sheik again, even if his companion wasn't happy about this.

"Look," Sheik said, still staring straight ahead, "I'm sorry, but I did what I did in order to—"

"Shh," Link said quietly, feeling his eyes water again. "J-Just...let's n-not t-talk, right n-now..." There'd be plenty of time for that later. For now, all he needed was the company...and the sound of pouring rain outside.

Guaranteed way to get a rise out of Sheik: Do or say something stupid. The more suicidally so, the better.