Telma hurried the last of the customers out, leaving Link and Eric at the counter, before closing shop for the day. The blonde boy remained face down on the counter; the red head rubbed the troubled boy's back, in attempt to soothe him in his distress. Link had grown quite over the past few minutes: his head rested on the tops of his hands, acting as a barrier between him and the counter. His face was blank, but his eyes were heavy with somber: they looked like they had given up. They stared off into empty space, unfocused and dismayed.

Eric made tiny circles around Link's spine as he moved his hand along the boy's back. He felt the scar stick out from the boy's skin – he could only imagine its untamed shape snaking down Link's spine. His eyes perked as he felt his way around the scar tissue. Then Eric's hand met with a shoulder blade, which jutted out like a knife. He pressed harder on the boy's back; he felt each rib from under the boy's tunic. He felt the bones of his back and shoulders: he felt the boy's anatomy from underneath his fingertips. Eric's eyes widened, glancing at Telma in a worried manner.

The skinny boy swung his hands back, shooing away Eric's. The red head pulled back as Link pushed himself up, slouching at the counter, his head hanging between his hands. "If I wanted a back massage, I'd pay for one," Link snapped at Eric. The skin around his eyes puffy and red: lips pale, and teeth grit. He stood from his barstool, and hobbled to the door of the pub. Eric only stood and watched as the boy's emotions began to unfold.

"Telma, can I ask a favor of you?" The blonde's neck was arched slightly, allowing him to view her. The plump woman quickly walked up to him, placed her hands on her hips, and smiled down at the boy.

"Honey, you can ask anything of me," the woman gently spoke. Link nodded, before opening his lips, pausing, and then speaking.

"Can we keep this secret from Zelda?" His eyes looked into hers as Telma grew ill at ease.

The woman closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes." She turned her eyes to Eric – he was as wide eyed as her. "We can." She caved: it typically wasn't usual of her to cave, but she did. Her head turned down as Link walked right out of her pub. She failed the boy. He was falling apart, and he needed her. She failed him, though.

Eric rose to his feet, downing his shot glass in a single gulp. "I should go after him." He began to head for the entrance. He slipped on his leather and coat and began to go by Telma. But the woman stuck her arm out in front of him, halting him.

"No." Her gaze floated and met with Eric's. "You will not." Her voice dropped to an icy chill. The red head perked a brow, bespeaking his curiosity. Telma lowered her arm. "The boy needs a break." Her words grew solemn and separated. "He's not going to clear his mind unless we give him the space he needs." She knew she was wrong, but she didn't have a clue as to what to do.

Eric nodded and sighed, returning to his barstool, and sitting. His eyelids hung heavy and he didn't bother to brush his bangs from his face. His eyes flickered up at Telma. "Another shot, please," he muttered, slamming his empty shot glass back on the counter. Telma smirked, despite the uptight atmosphere.

Link scrunched his shoulders as he walked: his eyes followed his breath as it left his lips, becoming visible in the chilled autumn air. He slouched, sighed, and continued to plod forward. He reached his hand back into his pouch on his belt and pulled a cigar from it. He held the wadded tobacco between his index and middle fingers of his right hand, as he used his left to light it. Link placed the blazed cigar in his teeth as he eyed a bench, making b-line toward it. As he sat himself down, the truth of the scenery exposed itself in upmost detail.

A young boy, known as Hyrule's hero, was sickly and pale. He sat on a bench outside in the cold of the autumn season, a lit cigar in his blue tinted lips. His eyes carried heavy and dark bags underneath them. The boy was as bony as a skeleton. He was still, except for the occasional pulling the cigar from his mouth. His outward appearance reflected him as if he were antiqued – older than he really was. He looked much older than eighteen. But, the grave fire in his eyes conveyed his untimely maturing: he was too young to experience the solemn situation he had been in. The boy's expression grimaced as the crowd's comments began to be the focus of his attention.

"Is that Link? Smoking? How foolish. He'll die young."

"Is that really the boy who saved us? He looks far too scrawny to have done so – ha! I bet Princess Zelda's soldiers did most of the work for him!"

"Is that kid okay? Looks half-dead as it is."

"I don't want my kids to see that man how he is – they look up to him. All he seems to be is a bad influence."

Although he tried to remain as nonchalant and apathetic as possible, the words were bitter; they stung – they stung in the quintessence of animosity. Link felt the hurt build up in his blood from the words of arrogant strangers. He bit his lip, holding back his desire to shout back at the crowd. He wanted to give them the reprisal they deserved. Link's tongue raged with countless possibilities of retaliation, ways to tell the truth of the journey – and how it all hurt him in the head. The ideas only hung their heads and remained a sparse hum in his throat.

Out of the blue, he felt an unexpected tap on his right shoulder. Instinctively, Link turned his head to the stranger. He was met face-to-face with a young child. The little boy had an innocent face, and he bent forward, almost touching his nose with Link's. The boy's large, bright blue eyes stared directly into his. The boy's stringy blonde hair hung in his face. His inquisitive tongue vaguely expressed a lust for knowledge. Link's lips drooped as he stared at the boy. He felt a spark of memory bubble up in his head. The child seemed familiar – too familiar for just a stranger.

"Excuse me, mister." The boy shyly fiddled with his thumbs. "I c-can sit here, right?" The boy blushed and his cheeks turned a deep red. His lips formed a cheesy smile to persuade Link.

Link flashed his eyelids once or twice, before smiling at the child, nodding his head. "I don't mind." He gleamed at the boy. "But, is your mother okay with this? I assume she wouldn't want her little baby to talk with a complete stranger off the street." He reached his arm around the bench where the boy sad.

The child plopped his rear end onto the bench, next to Link. His feet hung over the edge, and he swung his legs back and forth, back and forth. He grinned up at Link. "Oh, she's fine. She's over there watching us!" The boy pointed across the street to a petite, hazel-haired woman. "Hi momma!" The little boy frantically waved his hand at her. The woman turned, revealing her ghastly pale face. She gently grinned at the duo, waved to the boy, and continued to run her eyes into the distance. It took Link seconds to remember her face. Then his stomach dropped. He gaped at the woman: he knew her. She had died when he was just a child. Link bit his lip, glancing over at the boy. He noticed the ghastly tint to the boy's skin as well – he had the same time as the woman did.

"Well, she's not my real momma." The boy sighed, turning his head to his feet. Link returned his attention to the child. He gulped as his knees began to shake. He knew the boy, too. He died the same time the woman did. "My momma and daddy are still alive. So is my best friend." Link shuddered as the boy pointed to the woman. "She was his momma. She takes care of me now. We watch my mommy and my daddy and my brother, Colin, and my new baby sister."

Link wanted to vomit. He gulped, as his knees shook more and more. He spoke in the most calm manner possible, though. "What's your daddy's name? I think I may know him."

The boy looked up at the older. "Momma says that his name is Rusl. R-U-S-L. That's how you spell it." He perked up his lips into a small grin.

Link's heart sped up. This boy was his childhood friend. It was all coming back to him in a rush of blood to his brain. The boy was Rusl's first son, who would've been Link's current age, if he were still alive. He got sick with a brutal illness when he was four. His mother took care of him, but contracted the illness as well. They both died. But, now, they were both here. "I know your dad." He paused. "He's like the father I never had."

The boy's face lit up. "My daddy is very nice like that!" He smiled at Link, but quickly faded to gray. "I know you too." Link's throat tightened and his eyes widened. The child's eyes began to tear up and the older internally gasped. "You… you were my best friend." The child took his sleeve to his eyes, drying them. He leaned on Link's side, shoving his face in the older's shirt. "I missed you."

Link sighed. "I missed you, too" He embraced the boy and held him close, murmuring soft whispers, silencing the boy's tears. Link looked down at the child; he pressed his faced against the young boy's head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Seth." Tears wanted to slide their way down his face.

The boy grimaced a smile, but his face fell back to a remorseful state. Seth pulled himself away from Link. His eyes wavered as he began to twiddle with his thumbs, fidgeting everywhere. Finally, he took a breath and looked back up at Link, his eyes still puffy and red. Seth faced his friend with an unfeigned sorrow and pity in his stare, his condolences told by looks. "Why are you so sad?"

Link froze. He took it as shock that the boy could see so deeply into him. He trembled. Words he wanted to say were trapped in his throat. All he could manage to mumble was, "How… how do you know I'm sad? How do you know I'm miserable?" The tears began to free themselves from the prison of his eyes.

Seth shrugged. "You're smoking"- he gestured toward the cigar in Link's left hand-"and you're really thin." The boy poked the older's chest – his ribs sticking out like a sore thumb. "And your eyes – they carry burdens that they shouldn't have to carry." The boy stood on the bench so he stood eye level with Link. He took his index finger and outlined Link's cheekbones.

The boy pulled his hand away as Link buried his face in his hands. He grit his teeth and hid his pain. He halted his cries, and pulled his head up. Revealing tears dried on his face, and his puffy eyes, he looked at Seth. "There's a girl." He choked up for a moment. "And I really, really miss her."

Seth shook his head, and sat himself on Link's lap. The older boy squirmed under the ghastly child's weight. The boy took his hands and wrapped himself around Link, pulling his face tight into the tall boy's chest. The child smiled uneasily, to comfort his friend without crying. Link turned pale and looked down at the child, taking him in his arms. "But you don't have to want to die." The boy buried his face into Link's chest. Link's face was covered in tears streaming down his cheeks.

The teenager's face was blank as he stared straight out in front of him. Across the street stood the figure of his mother, staring right back at Link. Her eyes accumulated with tears and she hid her face behind her hazel hair. A mother to see her child want to die – a painful sight it truly was. She was proud of him, without a doubt, for all he had done. She sympathized for him, with his lover leaving him – like Link's father abandoning her; she knew her son's pain. The woman saw her son's face cringe, and she fell to her knees. Seth noticed from the corner of his eye, and hugged Link tighter.

Link grabbed Seth's head, and pushed his chin to rest on the boy. "I'm sorry." His grip released, and he pushed the boy off his lap and next to him on the bench. Seth parted his lips, preparing to say something, but sniffled and hung his head. The boy's adopted mother, walked across the street to the boys. She took Seth's hand, helped him stand, and looked at Link. "I hope I don't have to see you soon." The woman choked. She took her sleeve to her eyes and dried them, before leaving with her adopted son. She didn't wave or say good bye. Seth, however, kept looking back at Link. He waved once, and frowned at his slouched over friend, before he and his guardian disappeared into thin air.

Link silently sat on the bench sobbing. He watched the last bit of embers of his cigar fade to nothing: he dropped the burning tobacco a while ago. He wiped his tears before mustering the anger to stand. He rose, and began to walk back to the castle, a glum tone in his steps. His feet dragged and scuffed against the ground. A fed up expression scared away anybody slightly inclined to talk with the famous Hero of Twilight.

Children saw him from behind, ran to catch up with him, only to see a dead face of sorrow. Their smiles turned to horrified frowns, and they ran. Woman sneered away, covered their mouths with their hands, to hide their shock of his outward transformation. Men scoffed at his disheveled, unkempt, heartless appearance. He shrugged it off – he didn't have the heart to care anymore. He cared about nothing anymore.

He reached the castle entrance, pulled a cigar from his belt, lit the thing and placed it in his lips. Link walked right in the castle yard, noticing Zelda sitting the garden writing – writing in a small leathered notebook. He halted his steps and watched her – her eyes were swollen and rosy. She had been crying. Why? He wouldn't have known. Link then noticed Eric standing, rather leaning, up against a tree near Zelda. His lips moved slowly and solemnly. His eyes heavy and guilty as he spoke to the princess; Link knew it was about him, without a doubt.

Then Zelda looked up and met gazes with the young boy. Eric was stopped in his speech as Zelda stood from the bench, dropping her notebook, and running to Link. She leaped to the shorter boy, grabbing him in a tight hug. She didn't want to let go. But his smoky odor only pushed her away. Her happiness of his return only transformed into anger of his disobedience and ignorance.

"I thought I told you not to smoke." She crossed her arms at the boy, and began to tap her foot repeatedly. Link only looked away from the princess as he blew out a ring of smoke. She reached up and grabbed his hand: his hand was comparably larger than hers, despite that he stood half a head shorter than her. Link glared at her. Zelda's eyes widened, and she slowly released his hand. "Why so crude all of a sudden?"

"Leave me alone." Link frowned at Zelda, placing the cigar back in his lips. "I can make my own decisions. I am an adult now." Shocked, Zelda took a step back, parting her lips. She wanted to speak but was scared. The mindless teenager was in a crisis yet felt the nerve to say he was independent although he was falling apart – mentally dying. She would show him right.

Eric ran over to the duo just in time to hear the words leave Zelda's mouth. "You will not be staying in my castle, then." Eric opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted.

"Fine," Link mumbled, crossing his arms. "Just let me gather my things."

Zelda took a step back, and gestured her arms towards the castle door. "Go ahead. Just be out by seven." The boy nodded and walked up to his room, a slight limp in his step. Eric sneered; he knew the boy put too much strain on his ankle with all his walking today. He cursed at himself, giving the boy the idea of going out for the day. He then looked right at Zelda.

"Why are you letting him do this?" Eric questioned Zelda. The princess only sternly looked at Eric, repulsing in him cautiously taking a step or so back.

"He needs to learn to live up to his word." She turned her head away from Eric.

"But, he's in mental despair. He isn't thinking straight!" Eric pleaded. He crossed his hands and stood lower than Zelda, and looked up at her with puppy eyes. "He is my friend and I do not want anything to happen to him." He stood to his typical height and placed a hand on Zelda's shoulder.

"If he wants to go, he can." Zelda whispered, brushing off Eric's hand. The man sighed, forcing his palm onto his forehead and dragging it down his face.

Both Eric and Zelda turned their attention to the slamming door, with Link exiting, now with a sack over his shoulder. His face was straight, unmoved by Eric's worried eyes and Zelda's frustrated lips. He trudged past the two and continued to exit the castle yard. He had no home to return to, now. Unless he went back to Ordon, which would take too long, he would sleep in the street. Unless.

It was nearly midnight. Telma didn't like knocks on her door so late. It was cold out; maybe it was a friend, or a homeless woman or child. If it were, she wouldn't mind. If it was some asshole looking for a drink or a one night stand, she wasn't going to restrain herself from grabbing an empty bottle to chase them away. She yawned, slipping on her clogs and bathrobe, before heading down to the door. She opened it to find a familiar face.

He was thin and pale and ghastly. He held a sack over his shoulder, and he shivered in an oversized sweater. His hair was still tied back in a ponytail like earlier, but his face seemed more horrified than she had last seen him. Tears were dried around his eyes, and remnants of their flow were leftover on his cheeks. His eyes were red and puffy, while his nose was red and stuffy. She covered her lips with one hand, but pretended to yawn to prevent from offending the boy

"Telma," the boy spoke. His voice faltered each time his body shook. "Can I ask a favor of you?" She nodded. "Can I stay here?"

The plump woman took him in by the shoulder. "Link, you always have a place here. Don't ever forget that." She hugged the boy, pressing his face against her shoulder. Her face widened. She felt tears soak her shirt, and shortly enough she heard little sobs coming from his throat. Slowly, Telma reached her arms around the boy, embracing his boy against hers. She rubbed his back and head, calming his cries. The two stood there for half an hour, before Telma led Link to a bed near hers. She didn't want to leave him alone the night.

Telma and the boy sat on the bed prepared for him. "I messed up," Link coughed. "I always mess things up, or they go wrong for me." He gripped onto the woman tighter than before., she only sighed. "Why do the goddesses make me feel so empty?" Telma wanted to cry. She held the boy in her arms as he silently cried.

"You are not a mess up." She held him close. "Yes, things go wrong. But the good always outweighs the bad." She stuffed the boy's head in the crook of her neck. "You saved the country. You should not be ashamed of anything now." She let go of the boy, and turned his shoulders so he faced her. "You are a hero, Link. You will always be one." Telma hugged him one last time before putting herself to bed. "And, I'm always here for you. Don't forget that."

A/N: Thanks for reading this all the up to here (it means a lot)! And sorry for all the murdering of the feels. You'll need tissue the next chapter. But the ghostly mother and Seth, that's a headcanon of mine. Let me explain: Link and Seth were best friends as children. Link lived with his mother, since his father abonded them when Link was born. Seth contracted an illness with a high mortality rate. Being the midwife, Link's mother took care of Seth. Unfortunately, she contracted the illness as well. In result, both died around the same time, leaving Link alone. It is then that Rusl steps in as Link's fatherly figure. Yup. As always, read and review? Thanks!

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