For the record, I adore angst-ridden romances. Relationships where nothing can be easy and everyone has to run around in circles a million times before things start to work. I live for that kind of anguish. Combine my love of angsty romance with my proclivity for cynical humor and the following is what you get. I wrote it on a whim, no end in sight, which may explain why it turned out fairly lengthy for a one-shot. And honestly I like it. I can't figure out why, exactly, but I do. Maybe because it bears no relation to my actual life at all. Who knows.

Also for the record, I adore tormenting Saria. I absolutely love it. So be warned. I am not nice.

Disclaimer: No. And if you're looking to sue, I hope you enjoy stale Twizzlers and a lifetime supply of dead batteries, cause that's all I got.

Confessions of a Teenage Kokiri

Fadeaway Windwaker

"I'm so happy

cause today I've found my friends

they're in my head." –Nirvana "Lithium"

He hadn't seen her in days. Weeks, maybe. He didn't really care about that. It didn't matter how long it had been.

It only mattered that he hadn't seen her. And he needed to, because if she had stayed silent and locked away from everyone for this long…there was something wrong.

Saria was above the other Kokiri, in a way. Not only because of who she was, Guardian of the Forest Temple, but because of what she was. Considerate. Compassionate. All those other synonyms. Everyone knew it and everyone knew her. She would open her door to anyone in the village. Well, most anyone.

Mido was the exception.

He'd taken Saria out once, twice. The third time was their last. He'd tried to go too far with her.

Saria was not the kind of person you tried to do that with. To this day she refused to talk about it with anyone, even Link, her closest confidante.

"He just caught me when I was vulnerable."

That was what she told everyone. In truth she was ashamed. Ashamed to admit that she'd let herself get so far into things. Yes, she had stopped him. But she knew it hadn't been early enough. Saria wasn't one to do things like that, not that Link knew from experience or anything. But it was easy enough to see. At most a kiss was all you'd get out of a person of her nature. Saria was notoriously hard to get close to in that way. And it pained her to admit that Mido had shaken her up.

Link worried sometimes, about the way she never spoke about it. He worried that it was tearing her apart inside because she refused to let it out. He hated Mido for doing that for Saria. He especially hated the village for knowing, and still talking about it when they knew how much it must hurt her. They didn't have every detail. But they got damn close enough. And he hated Mido more for still trying to go back to her. Trying to be with her again. Trying to get farther than the last time.

But most of all, he hated himself. For not being able to help her.

"Saria?" Link knocked again, very softly. And again, there was no answer.

Too bad, she's not home. Well, I tried. Good bye. He started casually walking away.

Get your ass back to that door and try again, you coward.

Link made a face. Curse his subconscious. It always gave him such a hard time. Forcing his feet to move back to the door, he knocked once again.

Saria was lost to her own mind. She could not hear his knocking.

The scene was replaying again, despite her painful efforts to stop it. She tried opening her eyes, robbing the images of their shadowy background, but still it came. She tried reading, tried filling her mind with other thoughts, but it still came through every time. She had even tried humming and singing to herself, trying to focus on her own voice instead. That failed, as all else before it. Finally she just succumbed, coming to terms with the fact that there was no way to fight it. It would only return stronger.

Mido had only ever seen her house once. And that was from her front step. He was somewhat surprised when she invited him in to talk. Saria was hospitable as anything, but she was also a person of privacy. She never turned anyone away, but it was rare that she issued an invitation. Mido was feeling privileged, and strutted into her house with his head held high, trying to show her that he belonged here.

She showed him to a seat at the table, which was somewhat disappointing. He had been hoping for something more comfortable. Something more suitable for two people who wanted to be…together. The couch, for instance.

Something that would readily invite her to him.

Mido knew he shouldn't have been expecting that kind of thing from Saria. So he weakly attempted to push those thoughts out of his head. She took a seat across from him after offering him a drink, and smiled. He remembered thinking that she looked so young, so innocent. He also remembered wishing she didn't.

What he didn't remember was how they had eventually ended up on the couch. He was thinking he had been the first, because he had spent about fifteen minutes fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair and blatantly grimacing in pain until she offered him a seat on the couch. Then there was something they'd been talking about…she'd started crying. He couldn't remember the conversation. It didn't feel important, whatever it had been. But then, if it wasn't important, why had it driven her to tears?

He had offered his arms to her and she had accepted, leaving the table to fall into his embrace. "Mido…" she'd whispered, sobbing quietly. "I just wish things could be different."

He'd lifted her chin gently, looked into her eyes. "Saria." And he'd kissed her. It had just…happened. Saria didn't quite understand how or why. All she knew was how it felt. The way it seemed to be filling up the hole inside of her. Which was why they kissed again, with her initiating the contact the second time.

She ended up underneath him on the couch, somehow. His tongue had managed to force its way past her lips and was now compellingly exploring her mouth. It was strange that she hadn't thought to be uncomfortable. She and Mido had never gone beyond small, short kisses. This was radically different.

And it only got even more different. They kissed and kissed again. He sat her up and ripped her jacket from her shoulders, sliding it down her arms and tossing it aside. He pressed her up against the couch cushion and his lips made their way onto her neck, hungry and ravaging. And she moaned as the blood pounded through her veins, making her faint and lightheaded. Dizzy. He was making her so dizzy. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer. He pressed more firmly, kissed much harder. The sensations whirling through her body were too much to describe. She'd never dreamed of such intimacy with anyone. It was so unbelievable; she was almost imagining that it was a dream. She'd never thought to let herself go like this. It felt almost like…freedom.

"Mido…" she murmured, shifting beneath him, finding his lips with hers once more. And it continued. And Saria knew she wanted more. And yet, at the same time, she knew that she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing this.

She kept doing it anyway. And that was what would keep her up night after night weeks, even months, after it had happened. That she didn't stop him.

That she didn't stop herself.

They were about to go all the way, she remembered. The two of them were damp and sweaty, breathing heavily, clinging to each other on the couch. Various items of clothing had been tossed aside; the two of them down to their undergarments. There was very little of each other that they hadn't seen, very little skin they hadn't touched. And there was only one way to go from here. Mido was undoing the clasp of her bra, sucking slightly at her neck. Saria moaned softly, still lost to the throes of passion.

And suddenly she fell. She fell very far and landed very, very hard. And suddenly she could see.

Her moan turned to a strangled gasp, almost a sob, and she broke away from Mido, eyes wide and disbelieving. He had already succeeded in his earlier activity, however, and her bra fell away as she moved. She wildly covered her chest with her hands just as Mido's eyes opened, mirroring her uncertainty. Only he was wondering why she had stopped, while she wondered why she had let it begin. Her head was pounding. She felt as if she were spinning…so lightheaded, as if she would faint at any second. She pushed wet emerald strands out of her eyes and stared at him, momentarily forgetting about her lack of personal concealment. Her tongue was thick and fuzzy. She couldn't talk.

His eyes were still clouded with yearning. Lust. She deplored that word. She despised it and the idea behind it. And she despised herself for toying with it. For taking pleasure in it, even. The pleasure was gone now. Now that she could see again, and she could see what she had let herself become in the heat of passion. He was staring at her, too.

He was not staring into her eyes. Her face flushed with anger and shame and she snatched up her bra, fumbling as she attempted to return it to its proper place. Mido shook his head. It was all he could think to do. She was going back. She was reverting to her normal self.

He had been so close. So damn close.

"Saria," he offered softly, reaching for her. She drew away. She didn't want him touching her anymore. She didn't want herself enjoying it. "Saria, we've come so far." He took her hand, holding it too tightly for her to pull it away. "Let's finish what we started," he whispered huskily, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her fingers, his tongue darting out to meet them.

Saria yanked back her hand, cradling it in the other as if she'd been burned. Her eyes flared with disgust. She urged her mouth to work again. Or at least for her body to move, so she could get up from the couch and start dressing herself. Though she had managed to don her bra Mido's eyes were still very much centered in one place, and she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She tried to stand up. Her entire body shook, and she sank back down, aware of the sweat clinging to her chest and arms. "No." Her mouth formed the word, and miraculously her voice said it out loud.

"No," she repeated firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on, Saria," he coaxed, stroking her bare arm. His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "You can't tell me you don't want it." He leaned in toward her, inhaling deeply.

Saria's lungs had been punctured. She could not get enough air. Her breaths were short and raggedy, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Strangled sounds escaped from her throat. Still, she managed to gather enough oxygen to refuse him. "No," she said again, wondering where her vocabulary had run off to.

Sometime during her process of reaching for oxygen Mido had closed the space between them and was now massaging her shoulders, letting the straps of her bra slide slowly down her arms. It was obvious he had preferred her without the garment and was now trying to get back to that Saria. Never mind the one who didn't want anything to do with him.

Saria shook her head, trying to think. It wasn't fair. He wasn't suffering from nausea or lack of oxygen. He had all the cards in this game and he knew it. She was melting. His touch was…amazing. Much as she detested the entire thing, she couldn't deny how this felt. With monumental effort she suppressed the moan rising in her throat. Mmm…it felt so good…

She felt herself falling back into him, sliding down until her head was in his lap. "That's my girl," he murmured, dropping his head to assault her neck with kisses. And that was when Saria let the groan burst forth. She had fallen back in. And she was blind again.

Everyone in the village thought that was where it ended. They thought that was it. Only Saria and Mido knew the truth. The rest of the Kokiri thought Saria had stopped him before they went all the way.

She hadn't.

They had. They had done it. All of it.

Saria, Guardian of the Forest Temple, contrary to popular belief, was not a virgin.

She hated it.

What she hated more was that Link thought she was.

He was addicted to her taste.

After that night he thought about her all the time. She haunted his dreams, teasing and provocative, though he knew that was not at all her character. She stole the lead in every fantasy and all of them led to his bed. Or her couch. Or her living room floor, to be exact, because that was where they'd really ended up.

He was afraid that the fall would jolt her out of the passion she had sunk back into. It didn't. She laughed when they fell.

He remembered thinking that she was drunk, that she had to be, if she was laughing where five minutes before she wouldn't let him touch her. But how could it be if she had never touched a drop of alcohol?

That was the night that Mido learned that a person could be drunk through things other than alcohol. Things like greed. Desire. Passion.

Lust.

Need.

The first had been his means of drunkenness, the second hers. She hadn't wanted to need him. He knew that. But Saria was a person so closed up, so alone, that he knew she would give in to that need if pushed in the right direction. All she needed was someone to do the pushing. And the screwing, in the end.

And that had been him.

Sometimes it felt like a victory. Sometimes he wanted to run through the village proclaiming that he, Mido, had gotten Saria to open up. To let loose. He had had sex with her, and it was good. He wanted people to know.

But when the rush had settled down, when the blood had stopped fizzing in his veins, he knew he couldn't do that to her. It was bad enough that the village knew how close they came. He wasn't going to ruin the last semblance of self-respect Saria had by declaring that the people only had half the story and it wasn't over yet. They hadn't come close. They had done it, through and through, and that was the truth.

Other times it was a curse, because it was just a memory, one night out of his entire life. He didn't want it to be just a single memory. He wanted a library of memories. He didn't want just one night. He wanted night after night for as long as he would be able to remember. He didn't want hours, he wanted weeks; he didn't want sunlight, he wanted the moon; he didn't want his bed, he wanted Saria's. Or his with her in it.

Honestly Mido couldn't figure out if he really loved Saria or not. He knew he loved what he had done with her, loved it too much judging by how often he replayed it in his mind, but he also knew that that wasn't really love. There was more to it than that, and the fact that he couldn't figure out what that more was made him realize he wasn't sure of his feelings. Yes, the passion was there. The desire, the want, the everything else like that. But there were no decisions. No commitment. No trust. Wasn't that what a relationship was really about?

Yes. Yes, it had to be, Mido decided. But if that was what love was really about, how come the only thing that came to mind when he thought of a relationship with Saria was the image of him on top of her on her living room floor probing her mouth with his tongue?

Both of them unclothed, of course.

They had been talking about…well, about life, really. About how lonely it could get, when there was no one but the silence to accompany you inside the house. Saria had been spilling a lot more than she meant to let out. Her fears, her hopes, her worries had all come crashing out of her, not separately but all together, so that they were barely able to be understood. And when it had all come out, when she was completely drained of substance, having just spilled her soul all over the kitchen table, she began to cry.

Mido had seemed surprised, like this was something he never would have expected from her. And he'd wanted to help, Saria knew, when he stretched out his arms and told her with his eyes to come to him. Let him make it "better." She was weak. She was exhausted. She felt like she had been falling for a very long time and had only just landed. It was all she could do to stand up from the table and fall into his arms, where he proceeded to cradle her and tell her it was alright, even though she couldn't remember anything being wrong.

And then that had started. And she really just wanted that part to go away. To this day she couldn't bring herself to sit on that couch. Every time she even looked at it she swore her temperature sky-rocketed and her mind went into a tailspin, replaying all the emotions she had felt that night. That part of the carpet, too, was ground not to be tread upon. The shame would descend and the heat would not leave her cheeks for hours. Saria shook her head every time she looked in that general direction. She wanted to move. She wanted to lock all her memories up in this tiny house and leave, and never come back.

She used to love that couch.

Still no answer. Link was positive that knocking again was stupid, and that if there was anyone watching him by now they would think he was just a desperate idiot, and might even round up a force to rally against him for continuing to try when it was obvious the door was not going to open.

And maybe he had finally lost it. His "what ifs" were getting way too detailed.

Link convinced himself to knock one final time, promising that if there was no answer in…eh, about five minutes, then he'd leave and wouldn't try again for at least another hour. Or half.

He stood and waited. Five minutes was a long time. He was giving this girl more chances than she deserved. She had better damn well take them.

He leaned against the door. Wait, she might open it. He leaned against the wall. Ow! He jumped away from the house. What the hell were those walls made of? He sat down on the single stair. Wheee. That was about as comfortable as smashing a finger in the door jamb. He rolled his eyes, stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at the door.

Now he just looked psychotic.

Link was lucky that Saria opened the door right that second. Because he was about to sigh overdramatically, curse as loudly as possible, throw his hands up in the air, and storm off. Because five minutes really was a long time, and he couldn't take it anymore.

He was relieved beyond reason when the door swung open and he was looking straight into Saria's emerald eyes, which looked absolutely mechanical. He studied her. Why was she like this? What was going on with her? Why was he asking all these questions to himself? Hadn't he come here to ask her?

It was then that Link realized that he had nothing to say.

He was just kind of standing there on her front step. Saria looked at him funny, tilting her head. She hadn't seen Link in a long time. Not since before the…yeah. That. And to be honest, she hadn't really thought about him in awhile, either. Her mind was too…full. Of other things. And she'd kind of forgotten what he looked like.

She was remembering now. And he was looking better than he was supposed to. And that definitely wasn't a good sign. She was supposed to be over all this. She wasn't supposed to be vulnerable anymore.

Saria hated that word. "Vulnerable." It felt like a cheap excuse. Like she was stupid and it was the only one she could come up with. Plenty of people were vulnerable and they weren't sitting around screwing in their living rooms. There were ways of dealing with problems that went beyond sex. Normal people knew how to find them. She didn't.

She suddenly felt like slamming her head in the door.

He hadn't said anything. How long had he been standing there? How long ago had she opened the door? Were they still on her front step? She had to check.

Yes. Yes they were. And he still wasn't saying anything. Neither was she. She had the sudden image of everyone else in the village surreptitiously watching them, laughing at the pathetic scene of her standing in the doorway and him standing on the stair in complete silence. They were probably taking pictures. Her eyes widened. Maybe she was on a reality show! Maybe Link was purposely staying silent to make her look like an imbecile. Maybe he was in on the whole thing. Her head suddenly swung from side to side, emerald eyes shining with suspicion, searching for the slightest movement.

And maybe she had frickin lost her mind along with her virginity. Saria shook her head in disgust. What was wrong with her? Did she have any sanity left? Was she at the point where she was going to have to depend on getting peace of mind from little over-the-counter bottles? That wasn't supposed to happen for at least two more months, dammit!

"Um…Saria? Are you okay?"

Huh? What? She answered in her mind instead of out loud. Her thoughts couldn't reach her vocal cords. Wait, was he talking? Or was she only hearing? No, she was listening, wasn't she? There was a difference…wasn't there? Yes. Yes, there was. Listening required having something to listen to. Hearing was just…hearing. You could make that up. Right. So there was a difference.

Or did she just think there was a difference?

WHAT is the matter with you?! her mind screamed at her. She shook her head again, violently this time. Her brain made no sense to her anymore. She no longer had single, independent thoughts; they always came in confusing jumbles, one bumping into the other, all screaming for attention. Saria wasn't capable of coherent thought anymore. Not really. Her mind changed channels on her all the time, when she wasn't ready. Just as she'd started to entertain and understand one swarm of thoughts, another would let itself in, carelessly pushing the former occupants out of the way. She didn't have any kind of control.

Saria was the kind of person who couldn't stand when someone else was in charge. She couldn't deal with losing control very well. Therefore lacking the ability to be in command of her thoughts infuriated her. When she got frustrated, she couldn't control her temper. She couldn't control her vocal cords, either.

"Who the hell are you, my psychiatrist? I'm fine, dandy, peachy keen, spring-is-in-the-air enthralled. Okay?"

Hell, she hadn't even been able to control her hormones.

She glared at him. He was staring. She didn't take people staring at her very well, even though she knew his gaze wasn't fixed on her because of her looks. Saria's emerald green hair was tangled seemingly beyond repair…it looked like she had given up trying to brush it or even pull it away from her face weeks ago. It hung in haphazard snarls around her baggy, bloodshot eyes and sickeningly pale complexion. Her cheeks were gaunt; she hadn't eaten in days. Her clothes were disheveled from her daily collapses into bed, where she tossed and turned and never slept. Everything, her hands, her face, her clothes, was stained with tears that wouldn't wash away. She was tainted, she knew. She looked like hell had swallowed her and spit her back up. Even Mido would think twice about fucking her in this condition.

Yes, Link was staring at her. And her looks played no part in the speculation. His look was neither lustful nor disgusted; his sapphire eyes only conveyed confusion. And hurt. Raw, open hurt. He didn't know how to hide it like she did. Link was so young like that. Innocent.

Saria sighed. She hated hurting people. That was all she seemed to do these days. And she couldn't afford to hurt Link. He was the last one left. The only one who still thought her capable of having dignity. "Link…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that."

His stiff posture relaxed a little. "It's...alright." The hurt was fading and worry was replacing it. Saria winced. She hated anxiety even more than pain. She couldn't stand people worrying on her behalf. It made her feel like she was responsible for their happiness. She couldn't even make herself happy; how was she supposed to please other people?

Link was still studying her. "You're not okay, are you, Saria?" He tried to phrase it as a statement but she could hear the question in his voice. He was still holding onto the chance that she would soothe his doubts with soft, gentle lies. The chance that she really was okay.

She looked at him. "Come inside, Link." Yes. Please graduate from my doorstep. I swear the neighbors are watching this…

He complied without a word and she shut the door, half relieved and half terrified. Yes, she had gotten him off her doorstep. But now he was in her living room. And the last time she had brought someone of the opposite sex into her living room…

They were going to sit at the kitchen table. She was not going to move from that table. Maybe not ever again. If he wasn't comfortable, fine. He could go ahead and take the couch. She was not going to sit on it. Definitely not ever again.

Ow. Saria made a face. She had a serious headache. Trying to have a social life was a hell of a lot more trouble than it was worth. If she ever got out of this, she planned to become an introvert. It was going to be all Solitaire and game shows from here on out. Game shows were an introvert's best friend. The competitors were right there on the screen. You didn't have to talk to them; you didn't have to interact with them. If you didn't like them you could scream at them and they wouldn't scream back. You could curse at them. You could mute them. If you really hated them, you could change the channel on them. No hands-on interaction whatsoever. It was pure bliss.

That and talk shows. Talk shows were an amazing way of living vicariously, Saria had discovered. You could get so caught up in someone else's problems, listen while they bitched on and on, and then just turn it off. You didn't actually have to fix anything. You got the incredibly rewarding experience of being there to listen to someone else and be there for them, and then you could just go to bed. And their life continued to suck while yours continued to rust from being underused. But for those one or two glorious hours, you could pretend you had a life and best of all, you used it to help people.

Talk shows were an amazing self-esteem booster.

"Uhh…Saria? Did you want to talk or…anything?" Dammit. She had gotten caught up in that introvert thing again. And forgotten he was there. Actually she was kinda hoping he wouldn't be there when she returned from the deepest recesses of her mind that made the least bits of sense. But he was. And that meant she had to start talking now.

God. What was she even supposed to say? I lost my virginity; can I have yours?

Saria inhaled deeply, willing her brain to accept the oxygen and try to separate her thoughts instead of meshing them together. She looked at Link and sighed.

This was going to be very, very hard.

She really scared him when she did that. That thing where she just…shut up. Didn't talk, didn't blink. Sometimes he was convinced that she wasn't even breathing. What did she think about when she did that, anyway? She seemed so far away that he had almost started thinking that if he touched her, she wouldn't actually be there. His hand would pass through air. And now he was standing in her living room, if possible even more awkward than he'd been on her front step. What exactly was he supposed to do? She hadn't offered him a seat. Should he take one anyway? Would she be insulted? Would she even notice?

He continued standing. It was easier that way. He would just…wait. Or something. Until she was ready.

If she was ever ready.

Saria was fidgeting, playing with her hair. She knew she looked like a freak. She was kind of past caring. "Um…yeah. Sure. Do you want to…sit down?" She glanced towards the kitchen. "Like, at that table?" And not on that couch?

Link looked relieved as he nodded and sat down. Saria noted with disquiet that it was the exact chair Mido had taken on his visit. What the hell was fate trying to do to her, anyway? This wasn't fair at all. Why was she tested in this way? Couldn't her tests of character have to do with little old ladies and bratty children instead of highly attractive single men?

Saria looked around. She couldn't believe she'd lived in this house since she was born. She was seventeen and still here. That was the problem right there. The lack of change. She'd wanted change and so she'd gone looking for it. Then she'd brought it back to her living room and had sex with it. That was all. Now she wanted boring again. She wanted same old, same old. Everything already done once. No more new experiences. No more change.

And that should start right now, with her not staring at the way Link's hair fell over his forehead and into his deep sapphire eyes, practically begging for someone to brush it away…

He was looking at her again. Shit. He didn't see her staring, did he? She averted her eyes. Okay. Good. Now she just had to keep them from sneaking back there. She sat down across from him, cooperating with fate and taking the same chair as before. She'd prove that she was still capable of self-control. Her eyes were fixed on the table.

He wasn't saying anything. Instinctively she knew he was waiting for her to speak. That was what this was about, after all. She squirmed in her seat. She felt restless. Like she just wanted to jump up and run away. Screw talking.

Bet that's not all you want to screw…her mind taunted her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming aloud. Shut up! Saria shook her head. She wasn't like that. It was just…that one time. That one damn experience that had messed her up. That was what made her think like this. That night had…confused her. Made her doubt the way she really was. Or the way she thought she was. Or…whatever. "So…" she drummed her fingernails on the wooden tabletop. "What did you want to talk about, Link?"

Him? What? His eyes widened a little bit and he pushed golden strands of hair away from his face unconsciously. Since when were they here to talk about him? She was the one who needed to talk…wasn't she? He was only here to listen. He didn't want to actually have to say anything. It was like a talk show. This was purely a self-esteem boosting experience. He was going home in an hour and never bringing it up again.

…right?

God dammit. She was confusing him now. Making him think he actually had some kind of obligation here or something. Why had he even come here? He'd spent so much time out on her front step that he couldn't even remember.

Free room and board?

No, dickhead, his mind chastised him. You were worried about her. Admit it. This is the first time you've seen her in weeks. Months, maybe. So get over yourself and say something. Link made a face. He didn't want to talk. No way. He wasn't going to, he decided. He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Nope. Not a word.

A few minutes of silence passed and sunk in before Link decided that the entire situation was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn't like he even had anything to say, anyway. He really had come here to listen to her. But if she wanted to know what he thought, fine. He'd say something. He was probably going to end up right back on her door step.

"Mido's a real asshole, isn't he?" As quickly as he had made eye contact with Saria he dropped it. Was that what had been waiting to come out of his mouth? Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. He should have stuck with his first instinct. Now she was probably going to cry or something. Dammit!

Link sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Everything he said made an already awful situation even more terrible. His social skills were…nonexistent. He was weird that way.

It couldn't get worse from here. It just couldn't.

Saria's mouth dropped to the floor and for several seconds she had trouble getting it to close again. It wasn't possible. He hadn't just said that. Link was not sitting at her kitchen table talking about Mido. He couldn't be. She was shaking, she realized suddenly. And the weird thing was, she really couldn't decide if she agreed or disagreed with Link's judgment. She was finding herself…in the middle. Dead center. Undecided.

Okay. So she'd take whatever choice was easier. No big deal. Only…she couldn't figure that out, either. She'd described Mido the same way quite a few times, in her head, of course, but she didn't quite feel like sitting here with Link and tearing Mido apart. On the other hand, she didn't really want to stick up for him or anything. She didn't feel like he deserved that from her. Or that he even needed it, really. As far as she knew the village didn't blame him for anything.

But then, she hadn't formally left her house for about three weeks. What did she really know about the village at all anymore?

She swallowed. "You're entitled to that opinion, I guess." There. Ambiguous much?

"Look Saria, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's okay." She waved a hand at him carelessly. "It's okay." And much to her surprise, it really was. She didn't feel one way or the other about it. Which obviously meant it didn't matter.

He shook his head. "No. I shouldn't have…I mean, I didn't want to…I'm not trying to say anything about you…" Link clasped his hands together anxiously as he looked at her. Another day that he would have been better off staying in bed.

"I told you, it's fine. It's not important." Saria looked down at her own hands, which were folded in her lap. Okay. But…what was important, if this wasn't? "Link." She looked up at him, even though she'd promised herself not to. She tried to focus on some place other than his intense azure eyes. No such luck. They were his defining characteristic; how could she not look at them? "What do you really want to talk about? I mean, I haven't seen you in…weeks." That was just an estimate. She really had no idea how long it had been. But she didn't want to insult him by letting him know that; "weeks" was general enough that he wouldn't pick up on it. "You wouldn't just show up on my front step to call Mido an asshole." By the way, did you like my front step? Because you're perfectly welcome to drop this conversation and get back to it.

"Well I-I just w-wanted to…" He was stuttering. Saria couldn't help risking a small grin. Link only stuttered when admitting to his feelings, lying, and discussing his marital status. It was his trademark for being extremely nervous. And if he was nervous, that gave Saria an advantage. She sat back in her chair and waited, strangely relaxed. She hadn't been the one with fortune on her side in a long, long time. Maybe if he got flustered enough he'd pass out or run away or something. No more deep, candid confessional. What a shame that would be.

"I was kind of worried about you, I guess." Link finally spoke, his speech surprisingly free of stammering. "I mean, you're right, I haven't seen you in awhile. Not since…" He paused, unsure as to whether what he was about to say would exacerbate the situation. He sighed. Well it wasn't as if he could do anything to improve it. Might as well just add to the damage. "Not since you and Mido…were together. And I was wondering if…if maybe that…hurt you. Or something." Brilliant. Half soap opera-y, half bumbling idiot. He was so suave.

Saria had grown very, very quiet during his little would-be monologue. So this was what it felt like. Actually talking about the hard stuff.

She didn't really like it.

"Link…" She sighed. "I can't explain to you about me and Mido and what there was between us. I don't even understand it myself. I think…I think it's just something I have to get over. By myself." Saria shook her head. "I can't analyze it anymore. I have to just…accept it." Funny. That was what she should have told herself a month ago. The way she was talking, it sounded like she had known all this for a long time. She hadn't. She was just now realizing all of it. It felt kind of…liberating. A release.

The expression on Link's face shared her relief. It was like they both knew the hard part was over. "I didn't come here for details," he told her, even though he had, kind of. "I just wanted to know…if you were okay. And everything. I mean Mido can be kind of…" A jerk. An asshole. A stalker. Someone who takes advantage of other people in general. "…persuasive."

Something flared inside Saria then. Something big. And she realized something else. "It's really…not Mido's fault, Link. It's…mine." She felt lighter all of a sudden. Like whatever immense sentiment that had flamed inside her had dissipated with her words. But she didn't understand. She'd blamed the entire incident on herself from the beginning. Why did this confession come without the anger and shame of all the other times she'd condemned herself?

Because…because this time she wasn't punishing herself, she realized. She was just…saying it. Living up to it. Admitting it without chastisement.

Maybe that was the point here. Maybe you just had to let things be. Let them go. Say them…and not put anything behind it that would stay there and haunt you.

Saria was a person easily haunted. She let words stay around too long. She let her mind linger in yesterday instead of taking part in today. She would go to bed and never sleep. She knew. If these past weeks had taught her anything, they had taught her about herself.

"Your fault?" Link stared at her. "How could it be your fault?"

She shook her head. "I can't talk about that. I told you. It's for me to figure out." A drop of water splashed gently onto the hand that rested in her lap. She was crying, she realized. She reached up and felt her cheek, wet with the many tears of one who had been crying for a long time. She hadn't even noticed.

She wished she knew why she was crying now.

Dammit. He had made her cry. This whole experience felt so surreal. He had the feeling that if he just closed his eyes and opened them, he'd find himself in his own bed, the familiar walls of his treetop house surrounding him. Like this was way too far from reality to really be happening.

"Saria…I'm sorry. I just wanted to…make things better. I guess." God. He hoped she didn't hate him. He already hated himself enough for both of them.

She shook her head, standing up from the chair. "Maybe you should go," she told him quietly, walking in the direction of the door before he even had a chance to acknowledge her words. Her hand wasn't fast enough to wipe away the next wave of tears. Link felt the last of his self-respect being stripped away and gathering in a pile at his feet as he followed her. What had he set off here?

"But Saria…" He felt desperate suddenly. Like he couldn't go unless he knew. Unless she knew. Unless they both knew.

"Please, Link." She looked at him. "Just go." Her hand was on the doorknob. Slowly turning.

"But Saria…" he said again, forcing strength into his voice. "I…I need to tell you something."

"I know," she told him quietly. Her hand had paused on the knob; her emerald eyes the epitome of composure. He vaguely wondered when that had happened. She put her hand on his, gently, slowly. "There's time."

He stared down at her hand in his, marveling at the power of such a simple gesture. "How much, Saria?" His deep sapphire eyes came back up to meet hers. "How much time?"

"Forever." It was a whisper, being carried on the faintest wind. A breath. A sigh.

A promise.

Link moved forward and embraced the small forest girl, her head coming to rest exactly on his shoulder. He wondered what that meant. Or if it meant anything at all. He held her tightly for almost a minute, memorizing the way it felt to have her pressed against him like this. The way her body shuddered slightly under her sobs. The way she seemed to cling to him as if she were falling and needed to hold on. And he was wondering if he'd ever feel this again.

He had to release her, eventually. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes and he knew. He dropped his hands, moving to the door of his own accord without any suggestions from her. He looked back at her one last time before it swung shut. He couldn't help it.

The walk back to his house was long. Very long.

Memories weighed heavy on his mind. They were almost too much to carry.

He hoped he wouldn't lose any of them on the way.

Saria leaned back against the door as it shut behind him, hands going automatically to wipe her tears. There was time. For her, for him. For both of them. They had forever. And she finally knew it. She finally understood. Hands left her face and pushed back against the door to let her stand on her own.

She had a strange, shaky feeling. Like when you take your first step. You might fall down afterwards…

but maybe not.

-el fin-

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-Fade-