Harsh Reality
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By Zel the Stampede
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Disclaimer: ARGH! Stomps away as a super-deformed, Chibi-Link appears holding a sign reading "Seeing as she's still poor due to an extreme anime addiction and still writing fanfiction you can bet good money she doesn't own LOZ."
So sorry for the very long delay but things came up. (By 'things' I mean me resisting the strong desire to pitch this fic off a cliff so I can work on other stuff.) I really haven't felt like working on it lately, but I did it! I finally wrote up chapter 11!
Kudos to the following people whose nice reviews convinced me to get back to work: Sparkybw, A Jasmine Myst, Queen of Blades, lectrcfireball19, chibi fairy, Evil Neptune, Demon Wolf, ^_^, Mungojerry, Soviet Inclination, Gobby and AF! (Any and all spelling errors are mine.)
R&R!
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Chapter 11: Gray Skies & Scattered Showers
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The subway was crowded, its slate-gray veins brimming with people boarding the trains that would carry them from their skyscraper offices to their homes in the suburbs. An automated choir of voices was singing train arrivals and departures as the pay phone settled into its cradle with a dull click.
Zelda sighed, dragging her bangs from her face as Anjel sauntered up beside her, loose ties of her black-leather jacket swaying with her movements.
"Who'd ya have to call?" she asked.
"My pizza guy," Zelda admitted with a faint grin, "I don't feel like cooking."
"On the pay phone?" Anjel, looking doubtful, arched a dark eyebrow.
"What? I left my cell phone on the kitchen table," Zelda said as they stepped out on the platform, "besides this way I can pick it up on my way home!" Anjel laughed, Zelda never did anything that didn't, in its own eccentric way, make sense. Anything except-a cold gust blew all of a sudden through the tunnels, rustling up newspapers scattered on the tracks.
"Burr, cold," Anjel said, tightening her jacket about her shoulders.
"That's November for you," Zelda remarked and buried in her hands in her coat's genuine-imitation fur-lined pockets, 'What's today? November 30th? And tomorrow…the first of December…six months ago…tomorrow.'
"Hey, Zelly," Anjel began casually, "Why don't you take tomorrow off?"
'Tomorrow…December 1st…'
"But why would I?" Zelda asked.
"Well-you look tired," Anjel said, nearing her friend, "Zelda, you don't look good. Nila and I are worried about you. Especially about tomorrow-"
"I'm fine, Anjel," Zelda said flatly, "Thank you for your concern." Anjel backpedaled, Zelda stepping away from her and into the train. Anjel squeezed past the closing doors, ducking into Zelda's car. The blonde visible on the upper level, her hands fixed in her lap. Anjel marched up the narrow spiral steps, 'Yeah, "you're fine", that's all I ever hear from you anymore.'
The train grew quiet as Anjel forced her way upstairs to Zelda's seat. She seized her friend's shoulders and frowned, "Zelda, stop. Stop doing all this! You're acting crazy! Link doesn't need you to protect him! He's perfectly safe! You don't need to worry like this!"
Zelda was appalled, wincing as Anjel's strong fingers clenched her shoulders. She bit her lip very hard to keep from crying, dissolving to a sobbing mess of tears, "But-but if I don't-" Zelda stammered, "Who will protect him?"
"Zelda, can't you see? You've got yourself thinking you're all Link has! But that's not true! And you know it! And you've been acting so weird lately! Especially since Helori agreed to take Link back home to their parents after the hospital releases him!" Anjel swallowed, "You don't go anywhere anymore. We never talk anymore. You're hurting and you won't let anyone help you. Even with Link. Helori's even began addressing the coverage for Link's bills to me because she's afraid you won't take them. So p-please, just quit blaming yourself!"
"But it was my-" Zelda stuttered, Anjel's grip loosed.
"No, it wasn't, it never was," Anjel said firmly, unconcerned with the stares gathering throughout the train car. 'How can that be true?' Zelda thought, feeling her hands begin to buckle, 'It's my fault. I did this. It's my fault Link's in pain. I thought I was protecting them-it's all my-'
"Zelda?" Anjel began gently, "Are you okay?"
"Please, Anjel, just go away."
* * *
Link was dreaming. Wandering in a dark reverie stirred either by his restless subconscious or the fifty milligrams of sedatives swimming in his veins. Regardless of origin, it was still a very strange dream.
Link winced, squinting against fire-bright spears of light suddenly assaulting his eyes. The luster receded, dwindling into a significantly smaller sphere that pulsed like a new star. The pulsar swelled, extending tentative tentacles that illuminated the surrounding darkness. Eerie gray mimics bent across the ceiling. The light was trapped. Sealed inside a globe of perfect glass. And Link with it.
A ghostly tentacle snaked over the bowl of the floor, giving off the most peculiar air as it slid past Link, almost as if it were alive. The milky tendrils drifted all around, stroking the sides of the glass like feelers, almost obvious to Link even as they loosely bent aside to brush past him.
Hello.
Link started, falling back on the glassy slope, "What?! Who?!"
Hello, Link.
"How do you know my name?"
The star shuddered and the voice chuckled, I know lots more than that.
"Who are you?"
I'm your guardian angel, Link. And I'm here to protect you.
"Protect me from what?"
From the evils. The shadows invading your soul.
"What shadows?"
Dark, evil shadows. They want to kill you. But if you trust me, I'll always protect you. Do you trust me?
Link was quiet for a bit, the threads of shivering light flowing swiftly past him, almost heavenly as they slithered down the slanted floor, "All right. I trust you."
Then come to me, Link. Come into my arms, my light, let me hold you, safe and protected. In my light…
The silvery strands gingerly wrapped about his shoulders, caressing his face with their feathery limbs, and drew him within the brilliant shell of the star. The core of star enveloped him like a luminous, downy cloak, soft and warm, Link had never felt so safe.
Don't worry, Link, just sleep. Stay with me like this. And just sleep.
* * *
If you were pure…
Malon stirred, her blue eyes rolling back in her head, their pupils shrinking with the flood of artificial light. Blood was caked on the side of her face and the spot just above her left eyebrow was tender.
A pair of hazy angels appeared; their wings were bathed in a soft glow and they wore blue. 'Am I dead? Is this heaven?' Little beeps and clicks sounded from somewhere, a voice floated up from nowhere.
'Crash on Field highway, two cars involved, one semi…'
The angels dwindled as Malon's vision sharpened, their wings and luster melted. A young paramedic hovered over her as his elder supervised; watching closely as the young man's concentrated fingers closed the wound with delicate stitches. Malon eyed the still-fuzzy boy tending to her gash, all the pigment had drained from his skin, his hair was bleached platinum and his eyes were a funny shade of pink magenta. An ID card hung about his neck, standing apart from the navy-blue medic's uniform, ALBATOU, Student trauma Doctor.
"What happened?"-her voice was grating-"my head hurts…"
"I imagine it would," the young medic said as his elder stepped out of the ambulance, "your car was involved in a collusion, you hit your head on the steering wheel."
"That all? It feels like something ran it over." Malon strained her eyes before the paramedic went foggy again. When everything was clear, Malon smiled, eyeing the ID swaying from her healer's neck, "Oh, you're still in medical school?"
The student paramedic swallowed and stammered, "Excuse me, ma'am. Usually we'd ask permission before allowing a student doctor to examine a patient, but-my supervisor-"
"It's all right," Malon assured, "Really." A light grin crossed her lips; "I remember back when I was a med. student."
"You've got your Ph.D.? In what field?"
"Psychiatry," Malon said, weakly trying to move, her muscles spotted with fresh bruises wishing sorely for aspirin.
"Tough field?" Albatou asked.
"Sometimes, though I'd think your job will be hard."
"Not too hard, as long as you can go two days without sleep, I'm on a practice shift, 12 hours long." The young man took a sip from a cup filled with what looked like coffee, some tacky logo splashed over the styrofoam.
"You gonna be all right?" he asked, setting the cup down, "Your car was smashed up pretty bad, we'll call a squad car to give you a ride."
"No thanks, I'll be fine," Malon said. She smiled and reached for her purse, feeling strangely renewed and totally free of aches and pains, "Thank you very much, you'll be a great doctor someday. And please don't worry, I'll take a bus."
"But ma'am-are you sure?"
"I'm fine! Good luck with your exams!"
"Hey-wait!" Malon turned a deaf ear and rounded a corner. Albatou frowned, scratching his head in puzzlement, "How'd she know I'm taking my finals tomorrow?"
* * *
Patient Report for: Riles, Link
Date & Time: Nov. 30, 8:56 PM
Given by: Dr. Ganondorf Dragmire
Sometime between 7:30 and 8:15 PM this evening, Riles slipped into a coma-like state. Nurses discovered him at 8:16 PM and believed him to be sleeping until they could get no response after trying to wake him. Blood samples have been sent to the lab for drug testing. As of now, his breathing and heart rate are normal; blood pressure is unchanged, so I see no reason to hospitalize him until the results of the blood test arrive.
* * *
Sheik was having one of those nightmares that only dead men dream. Where earth and sky embraced in endless gray and legions of tireless feet shuffled along worn-roads like soldiers whose bodies had broken away. Carrion birds swooped down to pick at the unlucky ones. And off in the distance, Styx roared, its swells whispering a beckon that all succumbed too. The Sheikiah jarred awake, the sudden movements not doing wonders for all his hurts. He bit his lip and caught his breath, then flopped down on his blankets again.
It was after midnight and Soara's house was dark, a very comforting kind of dark, where the soft gloom was disturbed only the lances of firelight. Sheik was sprawled out on his bench, heavy blankets of silken-smooth Gerudo weave pulled up to his chin. Navi was snoring on the table, in her cocoon of scarves; a soft, humming nightlight. But despite the many comforts of Soara's home sleep evaded Sheik. And for the next hour, he tossed and turned, listening to Navi's humming snore, which was very irritating since she could sleep and he couldn't, and something else. A little voice, that chilled like dark places, that tapped his shoulder with its scythe and whispered, "Remember, you're still mine. You can't run, because you're still mine."
As for Soara, she had left earlier, said she had some 'business' and scaled up the ladder, to her front door then into the storm. Sheik frowned, better part of him ventured that she was racing over the sandy slopes to the Gerudo Fortress right now, though she'd have gone through an awful lot of trouble convincing them to stay to turn traitor now.
Sheik rose stiffly and fitted on his boots. Navi still sleeping as soundly as a stone as he crept up the ladder. It was cold enough to snow outside. A frigid gust of sand and wind rippled through Sheik's tunic and pricked his nape with its ice, rattling the lanterns spaced along the catwalk that wrapped lazily up the side of the house to the roof before it swept away. Sheik braced himself, resting a hand against the building, and trudged up the bridge.
Soara was hunkered down on the roof's edge, wrapped in dusty sage robes. She held a long bow, elegantly dressed in silver gilt and drops of honey-topaz, with a quiver buckled at her shoulder. A familiar ring of ghost light was cast about her until the faint outline of a Poe floating near by melted into nothing.
"Why are you awake?" she asked, her hood falling back.
"Couldn't sleep," Sheik muttered.
"Ah. Well, you can sit down if you like," Soara gestured to the empty spot beside her. Sheik slumped down on the ground, "So, what are you doing out here?"
"Night watch," Soara said grimly, "if anything tries to escape, it would now."
"How can you tell?"
"Listen for the bells," Soara said easily, "there are three of them. The Sleeper, that's the evening bell, the Waker, morning bell, and the Screamer, the panic bell."
"Their tones are different?"
"Of course. The Sleeper is a lullaby, the Waker a wake-up call, and the Screamer is, well-" Soara shifted her bow to rest on her other shoulder, "Aren't you cold?"
"Not really," Sheik admitted.
"I guess Death chases the chill from anyone."
Sheik looked at her about to reply when a terrible screech cut the air, wailing above the storm like a banshee. A ghostly scream that carried over the desert, piercing the night like arrows. Sheik recoiled and Soara shuddered, the tones purling electric jolts through their bodies.
"That was the Screamer," Soara said gruffly, when all was relatively quiet again, "It's a magic bell that temporarily stuns its listeners." She squinted into the shade, "Someone's coming."
* * *
The bus pulled up a half-block from the asylum and Malon hopped out without a care. Sequins stuck out among gray patches in the sky as she passed under streetlights in quick procession as she approached the glass double doors. Eyes averted as she pushed inside. A clinic lulled by nighttime greeted her as she jogged up the flight of stairs and down the hall. Scanning the doors for those three familiar numbers.
231.
Malon stopped suddenly and opened the door a crack. A ray of light falling across Riles' face as he slept, peaceful and placid, machines moderating his heart rate and breathing. The door shut without a whisper and Malon stole over the room to his bedside. The machines ticking and flashing. She smiled weakly, pushing back the blond bangs. Lying there, with his eyes closed and face still, he looked like Aydin.
Malon took a deep breath, hardening her resolve, and gingerly loosened the wires as the machines died. No one would know what she was about to do. Except the voice on the phone, because that was what it wanted.
She slipped her hand down into her purse, closing her fingers about a slim letter-opener.
If you're pure. I'll give you Aydin.
Silent tears filled Malon's eyes, a life for a life. Link would die and she'd have her Aydin back. That's what had Nimbus said. He'd given her his word.
The letter-opener was no razor, but just barely sharp enough to puncture a pinpoint cut in Riles' throat. A fat red bead trickled slowly down his skin and stained the pillow. Malon swallowed, a crimson bud unfolding where the drop settled. The letter-opener pressed a bit harder, tapping more drops and Malon faltered, 'I'm still a murderer both ways.'
Click!
The lights went on, soft-glow light bulbs suddenly filling the room. The machines began ticking and blinking again. Malon stiffened, feeling hands gingerly free the letter-opener from her tight grip so it clattered on the floor.
"Voices are vain, they go away if they don't have an audience."
Malon shuddered, falling against the stranger, 'I can't…even for Aydin, I can't kill a human being!' She sniffled and cried, her face in her hands, until her knees gave out and she crumpled on the floor, feeling the stranger fall with her.
"Thank you," she said into the strange man's chest, "I almost did something I'd regret."
"No problem," the man reassured, "now why don't we take you home?"
End of chapter 11I don't know, this chapter's end seemed a little iffy. I might rewrite it. Anyway, I hope you all still liked it!
R&R!
ZelComing Soon:
Chapter 12: Three Strangers
