A/N: First of all, YOU GUYS. Seventeen reviews last chapter?! SEVENTEEN?! I am so floored and thankful! You guys are the most amazingest, best readers ever! Every review brings a smile to my face and helps keep me focused on the task at hand and motivated to keep it going. So how do I show my gratitude for such a tremendous outpouring of support? By letting this get ridiculously overdue and making you wait an eternity of course!

Which brings me to second of all. Part of the reason this took a while was that this chapter was a massive pain to write and I completely lost all inspiration part way through. In the interim, some of you may have noticed I started a new story called "Calamitous" that completely reignited the spark (I wrote 8,000 words in two days. Two days!), and I'm having a ton of fun with that. If you want to check that one out too and let me know what you think, I'd love it!

So then, THIRD OF ALL, just because I'm obsessed with Calamitous right now (!) does NOT mean this story isn't going to get a proper ending! I still have another 4 concrete ideas I want to turn into chapters yet, and since I have a penchant for letting stories spiral out of control, there may be more than that. In the meantime, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter—it's pretty short and though it's not as lighthearted as others, I feel like this is a conversation they had to have if their relationship was going to have a solid foundation going forward.

Thanks for the reviews and support as always guys, you're awesome! MWAH!

Not My First Drive

It's not my first whatever, and who cares? I'm walking through the parking garage, my pulse racing, and my mind is too tangled to think about what this even vaguely reminds me of.

I had been standing with her in the kitchen, her face in my hands, and I'd wanted to fix all of it right then.

"I want to talk," I'd said, and she'd nodded weakly, looking flustered and breathless.

And then, as though on cue, a pan had clattered to the floor, reminding me that there was literally no worse time I could've chosen to abandon the kitchen. It was the Friday night dinner rush, and it was even more brutal than usual. I had spun my head around, staring frustratedly at the clock as I tried to work out a solution.

"Give us one hour," Mikau had said to Zelda, appearing as if from nowhere. "That should get us through the worst of it, and then we can survive without him."

Survive was an apt word. It would be awful. Which made me that much more grateful for the gesture. I gave her my keys and asked her to wait for me in the car.

Which is why I'm hurrying through the garage now, hours before closing. Epona is sitting where I left her, showing no signs of life except for the dim ambient lighting that activates when she senses a passenger. I can't make out Zelda's face through the tint, and for some reason that puts my stomach in knots. I take a calming breath as I grip the handle. And then I climb into the car and close the door.

I dare to glance at the girl in the passenger seat. Her hands are locked together in her lap, and most of her face is shrouded in a pretty curve of styled hair. She sniffles once into the thick silence hanging between us. Finally she turns to look at me, her brilliant blue eyes ringed red and glistening with the onslaught of new tears.

"I'm really, really sorry," she croaks quietly.

I nod, not really sure what else to do. The silence falls back into place. It's the dense kind, like the sort that covers everything after a huge snowfall, so quiet it's almost a sound in itself. I sigh gently, trying to pick the uncooperative words out of my brain.

"Zelda, I just…" I shake my head once, reaching for the rest. I'm staring at the dashboard. It isn't inspiring at all. Finally I just close my eyes. "I just want to know what you want."

It's a while before she answers. Her face is turned away from me, towards the window, as though there's anything worth looking at in the empty spaces beside us. Her voice is so small when it comes, like it's been crushed and then compressed by her own hopelessness. "You."

Warmth, reassuring and pleasant, unspools in my ribcage, and I tiredly retrieve the keys from the cup holder and turn them in the ignition. She glances over, a little startled.

"Let's go somewhere," I encourage her softly.

She hiccups once, and whispers, "Where?"

"Anywhere," I shrug, leading Epona out of her parking space.

We reach the street, and she manages a small, weak smile for me as I turn towards the waterfront.

The streetlamps bathe her in pulses of soft light as I drive, making her look more ethereal than ever. The ride is silent at first except for the gentle purr of the engine. But the anxiety I felt before is ebbing away. Just being with her like this makes everything seem less insurmountable. I can see the worry in her posture, though, in the distant look in her eye and the little pucker between her brow, and I try to ease her out of it as I turn onto the parkway hugging the shoreline.

"Talk to me, Zelda," I prod her quietly.

Her mouth tugs down and she absently takes the edge of her thumb between her teeth, staring over the water. "I don't even know where to start."

"It was the university gala," I remember with a twinge of distaste, unconsciously gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I didn't notice it then, but something changed in you that night."

"Midna," she murmurs, and I glance at her, surprised.

"What about her?"

"She knows me so well," she sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear absently as she ponders. "I've always been leashed to the expectations of people around me, never shirking duty or tradition. Always doing the practical thing. So when she saw me with you—someone she knows I would normally have never considered—she assumed I didn't intend for the relationship to go very far, and she warned me not to let you get too involved. I hadn't let myself think about it until then." She pauses, pursing her lips, her eyes shrouded in thought. "I realized that she was right—that if I didn't really have serious intentions, that I would be hurting you. And I didn't know if I did or not—and even if I wanted to, how could I reconcile that desire with the life I'd laid out for myself? You were an unexpected variable. I didn't know what to do. So I just…"

She trails off, and I keep my eyes fixed on the road, trying to come up with a response. But she starts up again before I can, sighing once.

"I know it's no excuse. I just panicked."

"Because you do want something serious?" I ask, just to be sure. Just because I want to hear her say it. Just because, after the roller coaster I've been through the last three weeks, that admission would make me happier than anything.

"I…" She chews her lip absently. It's so hard for her. Which only makes my chest swell tighter when she finally says, "Yeah, I do."

"Ok," I nod, really and truly trying to keep my cool. This feels so fragile, like an orb of glass that one clumsy reaction on my part will send shattering at my feet. "Good."

"Good?" she echoes, turning to me with a timid smile. "Really?"

"Zelda—Gods," I mutter, shaking my head once in disbelief. How can she not know? What could she possibly think I might say? "You know I'm crazy about you."

She smiles at her lap, and it's dazzling. All I want to do is stare, and suddenly the driving is an unwelcome distraction.

I pull into the next turn off, where there's a small lot facing the water, and park the car in an empty space. There's plenty, since it's a chilly night already and the wind coming off Lake Hylia is pretty brisk. I shrug off my jacket as I climb out of the car, and she lets me help her slip it on when I meet her on the other side. Then I take her by the hand and lead her down the abandoned walkway that lines the shore.

Her ears, nose, and cheeks are turning pink from the wind, but she's still smiling as she huddles down into my jacket. She sniffles, and at first I think it's from the cold; then her tears catch the moonlight, and I smile, pulling her frozen nose against my chest and wrapping my arms around her shoulders as I kiss her hair again and again.

"Link," she chokes, laughing and crying at once as I do my best to shield her from the wind.

I kiss her ear, pressing my face into her hair and breathing deep. I whisper, "Zelda."

She pulls back gently, her expression suddenly more somber—looking for something she heard in my voice, perhaps—and we stand, silent, haloed in the moonlight glistening off the choppy waters.

I slip my hands under the jacket, pulling her against me, and kiss her slowly. The winds are biting and it's way too cold for this walk, but wherever we're touching we're keeping each other warm, and in spite of the unwelcoming night neither of us move to go back.

She touches my face with icy fingertips. I slide my hands out from under her jacket, stifling a frown, and enclose her cold hands in my warm ones. Her cheeks are flushed—I know it's only partly from the cold—and in spite of my inclination to do otherwise I let her go so I can lead her down the way and find something to keep her hands warm.

We cross the street and drift into a tiny coffee shop tucked away along a dike, and she orders something drizzled in way too much white chocolate. She cradles her drink in both hands against her mouth when we head back out into the cold, smiling privately. She looks content; then she feels my eyes lingering on her face, and her gaze slides over to mine, peering over the white lid.

"What?" she prompts.

I take a long drink before I answer, mulling. I want to tell her awful it was without her. I want to tell her that I want to be the thing she runs towards when she's afraid. I want to wrap my arms around her and prove that I can keep her warm. I want to be with her forever. I want to love her.

But I don't think she's ready for that yet. The idea knots in my mind, prodding me unpleasantly.

I smirk and say instead, "Tell me about Ganondorf. He seems nice."

She drops her face into one hand, abashed, but I catch smile playing on her expression. "He's arrogant, and shallow, and utterly self-absorbed."

"Rich though."

"Spoiled."

It's easy to be generous, since she left with me instead of him. "I'm sure he wasn't all that bad."

"He was," she insists. "Inconsiderate and vain; not what I'm looking for at all."

"Oh no?" She drops her left hand from the cup without looking at me, and I casually let my fingers tangle loosely in hers. "What are you looking for?"

"Someone kind," she says, her eyes alighting gently in a way that makes my heart stammer. "Someone honest and genuine. Someone who's as stubborn as I am."

"That's a tall order," I interrupt wryly, and she gives me an unconvincing scowl.

"Someone who wears Crocs on romantic strolls by the water."

I tilt my head in acquiescence, smirking down at my work clothes. I don't look my sharpest. Her fingers curl a little tighter in mine, and the way her eyes are smoldering into mine makes my pulse quicken.

"Someone I could give myself to and know I'd never regret it."

I can feel something hot and wonderful glowing behind my ribs, a strange wave of contradiction that I don't think I've ever felt before. Like I could fly, but I'm too grounded; like a pulse of pride and humility at once; like a cold fire that burns everything but destroys nothing.

"Are you sure we're not still talking about Ganondorf?" I manage, breaking the spell before it can drive me insane. "Because it feels like we're still talking about Ganondorf."

She laughs aloud, a beautiful sound like rain on smooth stone and water, and she throws herself onto her toes to kiss my cheek, making us sway as we walk. She grabs my arm, holding herself tight against it. "You are impossible. And wonderful. I missed you."

I take my arm back and put it around her neck, pulling her closer so I can kiss her hair again. "I missed you, too."

The path forks and we drift closer to the shore, stepping onto the old dock that stretches over the tumbling dark. The sound of creaking wood and lapping water drowns out the distant drone of the city as we walk, and at the end of it we sit and let our feet dangle over the edge. I finger my cup, thinking. The tangled knot in the back of my mind is still jostling, barbed, against my skull.

"Zelda," I murmur, and she tilts her head gently, her hair falling in pretty waves across her shoulders.

"Yes?"

"I think…" Gods, what do I think? I take a slow breath, trying to clear my head. She must have noticed the tension creeping into my shoulders, because she stiffens too. "I think I need to be honest with you."

"All right," she murmurs guardedly, sitting a little straighter.

"There are things I want to tell you, but I don't know if you're ready to hear them," I begin slowly, staring at the cup in my hands. The dark water churning behind it feels like the tumble of thoughts churning in my brain. "I'm afraid that if you feel pressured, if you have any doubts going forward, at all… I just have this fear that one misstep will send you running in the other direction again, and I can already feel it coloring the way I treat you. I don't feel like that's a good place to start up again."

"No," she agrees, her brow furrowing as she stares into her lap. "That's fair. And I know that's my fault."

"I'm not trying to blame you."

"I know."

The water laps some more, filling the dead space.

"You asked me what Ashei and I talked about at the gala," I start, deciding it's as good a springboard as any. "I told her you were the best thing that ever happened to me. That you were beautiful, and smart, and sexy, and way out of my league. I told her I was falling for you."

I chance a glance in her direction; she's watching me, rapt, with those impossibly blue eyes.

"The thing is, after my parents died, I did shut down. I threw myself into my work, into making the Domain, because I could control it. I could work hard, I could fix problems. But I was never close to anyone, not really. I wouldn't let anyone in. I didn't want to go through losing someone again. Then I met you, and I just… I don't know what happened."

I purse my lips, dithering in her attentive silence.

"But I do want something serious. And I don't just mean in general. I mean with you. I'm not trying to say we can't take things slow. I'm not impatient. I just want us to be on the same page, Zelda. I want you to know what I want. And I think I need you to be honest with me."

I glance her way, lobbing the dialogue in her direction. She stops to think, staring at her lap again. It takes her so long to respond, I wonder if she never will.

"Honestly, I'm a mess," she finally says, giving me an apologetic smile. "I ran away because I don't know how to be in a real relationship, certainly not with someone who doesn't fit squarely into the box I allotted for that. I still think my parents will be mortified, and I don't know what I'm doing, and that scares me, too. But I want to be with you. I want to have with you what I've never had with anyone else, in spite of myself."

I think that's probably the most honest she's ever been with anyone, including herself, and that's more than I ever could've asked for. I lean in slowly and cup her cheek, wearing a wry smile. "Well, we've all got to start somewhere."

We kiss on the dock, suspended between a swathe of stars above us and a reflection of them beneath, saying all the things with our lips and our hands that our words weren't quite able to get across. I think we both know that this isn't going to be the easiest thing we've ever done, but we want it anyway, and in a way I think that makes us stronger. Her hands are tracing my neck and my shoulders laxly, her mouth moving in tranquil tandem with mine.

There's no urgency. We both know we'll have more opportunities in the future.