There was a knock on Zelda's door. "Come in," she said wearily.

The door opened with a bang that was so loud it startled the reserved lawyer into snapping her head up. "…Link?" It had taken her a minute to recognize him because while he looked (physically) like the man she had recently hired, he was dressed like a high school kid. Or, to be more specific, like he had in those pictures Schreiber had shown Zelda from their yearbook.

"What's happening, Z?" he asked, strolling into the room after closing the door with another loud bang.

"Uh…Link, I don't believe I was expecting you," Zelda said in a calm voice, glancing at her calendar and wondering if she had scheduled a consultation with him and forgotten about it. "Was I?" She added that second bit to herself, muttering under her breath but Link seemed to have heard it.

"Nah, babe, you don't have me on your calendar!" Link said, picking up the thing and giving it a carefree toss to the floor (Zelda looked scandalized). "As per your phone call the other night, I've come without scheduling an appointment."

"What?" Zelda asked, trying to figure out what it was he had just said. "Link, where's Megan?"

"Relax, Z, relax, she's in good hands."

"Stop calling me 'Z!' And no, I will not relax, I'm…" Slowly it dawned on her that there was nothing really to worry about, because this had to be a dream. Why else would Link have come to her office at this hour, dressed like a punk from Saved By the Bell? How else could he have so nonchalantly strolled in here without her daughter, for whom he was being paid rather well to watch? This was annoying. She had no time for dreams. "All right, dream Link, thanks. Feel free to walk back on out that door, now."

"I think you meant dreamy, you know, with a 'y,' not dream," Link said, settling himself Indian-style on her desk. "But that's okay." Nodding at the wall behind Zelda he said, "Wow, that's a lot of degrees you got here."

"Yes, well, I am a lawyer," Zelda responded. "It took a lot of degrees to get me where I am today."

"A lawyer, huh?" Link asked with a wolfish grin that Zelda wouldn't have normally associated with him. "So uh, what do you prefer, boxers or briefs?"

"Are you serious?"

"Which do you think I'm wearing?"

"Dream Link, that is so not appropriate!" she said, although cracking up on the inside.

"Do you wanna see?" Link asked her, sounding as if it was a serious suggestion. "We could bring in some serious other kinds of degrees in here, different from the ones you've got hanging on that wall in their nice little frames!"

"Some...what?"

"Other degrees! …you know, like, Fahrenheit and all that. Come on, Z. You're way behind, here."

"Sorry, it's just I'm a bit behind in work and I would really appreciate it if you'd, you know, go away so I can wake up."

"Wake up?" Link asked, looking puzzled. He shifted his sunglasses (which had been pushed to the bottom of his nose so he could look over them) up into his mass of dirty blonde hair so they rested atop his head. His eyebrows were raised. "Wake up from what, Z? You trippin' or something?"

"No, I am not tripping. I'm dreaming."

"Dreaming?" Link laughed. "Come on, man." Then, quite without warning, he leapt off of the desk and onto Zelda's chair. He gripped the arms of it tightly and had his knees on the seat on either side of Zelda's previously crossed legs. His face was but mere inches away from hers. "You think you're dreaming?"

"Yes," she replied, because if it wasn't she knew she'd be screaming her head off for help right about now. Or maybe she wouldn't …there was something gentle about the way Link had asked the question, and even though there had been a hint of lasciviousness to it, it hadn't been in a creepy way.

"If you were dreaming," Link said softly, "would you be able to feel this?"

For one heart-stopping moment, Zelda had been sure he was going to kiss her. But instead he just placed one hand on her cheek, slowly moving it up to her hair. There was the shadow of a smirk on Link's face. "Wow, Z. You haven't blinked in like, thirty seconds. That's a skill, right there."

"Yeah…" Zelda whispered, staring (unblinkingly) back into Link's eyes. "Yeah, I'm beast at blinking contests. Hey—I know this is going to sound really off-subject but I swear, there is something annoyingly familiar about you…"

"We didn't go to high school together, if that's what you're thinking," Link chuckled. "Because I would definitely have remembered someone as hot as you. Plus you would have remembered my talent for mimicking telephone rings and you would've asked me to do it for you by now."

"Your what?" Zelda asked vaguely, seriously trying to remember where she had seen Link before.

He opened his mouth and a shrill ringing sound came out of it, causing Zelda to jump once more. "Whoa," she muttered. "You're right, that's amazing. You sound just like a telephone!"

It took her only a few more seconds to realize that this was because her phone was actually ringing. She woke in a start from her dream, and dazedly tried to locate her telephone. Despite the fact that she was no longer pinioned in her chair and she was alone, the office now felt much stuffier than it had in her dream.

"Hello?" she asked drowsily when she finally picked up the phone.

"Yo! I tried your cell but you didn't pick up, and so then I had to call you at work even though I hate doing that because your secretary's accent is so thick and I—"

"Malon, hi," Zelda yawned. "What is it?"

"Oh!" Malon said brightly. "I just called to let you know that we've just finished painting the room."

"The…the room? Painting? What?"

"Link's room," Malon said slowly. "Remember, you told us we could paint it?"

"Oh, right…yeah. Wow, that must've been fast. That's great."

"Zelda, are you okay? You sound like…wasted."

"I'm fine, Malon, I'm just a little tired," Zelda responded, a tad perturbed at Malon's choice of words. "I guess I didn't sleep so well last night, I've just been having these weird dreams …anyway, how's Link and er, Megan? Is everything all right over there, the place hasn't burned down?"

"Actually, that's the other reason I'm calling," Malon said. "We managed to finish painting the room, but I think the paint fumes must've gone to Link's head because just after we finished, he went insane and burned down your entire house."

"Ha, ha."

"Well, you asked."

"That's what I get, I guess. Listen, I'll see you later, I've got a lot of work to catch up on. Don't forget Megan's piano lesson at half past five today, there's a check by the front door. And try not to let Saria scare Link too much, okay?"

"Word, Z."

"Did you just call me Z?"

"Yeah, remember, that was your basketball nickname!"

"Huh…very original. What was yours?"

"…M."

"Wow, we have to come up with better nicknames sometime. Would you get on that while I get back to the Topham case?"

"Why, I would love to. Bye, Z."

"Ciao, M."

At approximately 5:29 p.m.

"That'll be Saria," Malon said when the doorbell rang. "I'll go let her in."

"You know her?" Link asked, following Malon into the entrance hall.

"Oh yes. Our grandmothers are poker pals, and we've often been forced to come along on their little card playing adventures. Complaining about the elderly and their weird habits has been an incredible bonding experience. I'll introduce you."

"Cool."

Malon opened the door and, true to Megan's word (Link was surprised), a young woman with green hair stood in front of them. "Hello!"

"Hey, Saria," Malon said, opening the door wider so she could step in. "I'm sure your curious about why I'm here—I'm an old friend of Zelda's, and she has kindly opened her home to me for a short while."

"Oh, that's nice," Saria said, putting her bag down. Before she could inquire about Link, he held out his hand and shook hers, saying, "Hi, I'm Link Vaughn. Miss Cleverly's hired me as her daughter's new bodyguard."

"Dropped Katie, huh?" Saria asked, grinning. "I'm glad—she was always a bit of a twit. Where's Megan?"

"Oh, she's outside, I'll go get her." Link turned and headed for the glass doors in the living room.

Saria watched him leave. She paused, then turned to Malon. "Zelda hired him?"

"Yup."

"She hired him."

"Yes."

"He is cute. Zelda into him?"

Malon snorted a laugh. "Ha! Yeah right. I would highly doubt it, Saria. She hasn't been interested in a guy since she divorced her husband."

"How long ago was that?"

"Oh…" Malon distractedly scratched her head as she tried to remember. "I think about five, five and a half years."

"Whoa." Saria whistled. "That's a long time to be away from hav…from love."

The tone gave her away. "Come off it, Saria," Malon said. "She was in a really bad relationship. Just because some people are nymphomaniacs—"

"Excuse me!" Saria gasped. "Are you calling me a nymphomaniac?!"

"Aren't you the one who was nicknamed Nymphadora by her grandmother?"

"That's not what she meant, you perv—"

"SH, they're coming back."

"Hi, Saria," Megan said, looking shy.

"Uh-oh!" Saria said ruefully. "That looks to me like the face of somebody who hasn't practiced this week!"

"I did, too!" Megan piped up immediately. "Just…not as much as usual."

"We shall see," Saria told her, not unkindly. "Your hands are filthy, dear, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before we start; I doubt it would be appreciated if there was dirt on those keys! I'll be waiting for you in the…room…with the piano."

"Nice one, Nymphadora," Malon muttered through her teeth as Megan dashed off to the bathroom.

"Shut up, cowgirl," Saria shot back, bumping her slightly as she went by.

Link raised an eyebrow and his gaze turned to the room on the other side of the hall. Though he was pretty sure what would happen, he walked towards it and tried the doors. Like he had expected, they were still locked. Other than Megan and Saria talking, the only sound was an odd ringing in his ears.

"Don't suppose you know what's in here, do you?" he asked Malon.

She joined him by the doors and needlessly tried the handle. "Locked, huh? Hm… my guess is that this would be the room containing Zelda's infamous art gallery."

"Her what?" Link queried, staring so hard at the doors it looked as if he was trying to X-ray them.

"She went to an auction several years ago," Malon said. "She's extremely possessive of her works, so my guess is that she's locked them up in this room."

"Why, are they valuable?" Link pushed her, now looking at her.

"I would definitely say it's safe to assume that," Malon assured him.

"Like a Picasso or something?"

Turned her back to the door, Malon laughed sourly. "No way, José. I'll bet you anything it's an O'Keefe or Cassat." She paused. "No, less likely a Cassat. Anyway, I highly doubt it was a man's."

"Why?"

"Her mother. Mind if I get a drink while we talk?"

"No." Link followed her into the kitchen. It seemed no longer that Zelda's mother's control issue was a figment of his imagination. "What's the deal with that woman, anyhow?"

"Oh, I dunno, I guess she just really had a thing for flowers and animal bones and stuff, all blown up to—"

"Wait, who are you talking about?" Link asked, confused.

"Georgia O'Keefe…who are you talking about?"

"Miss Cleverly's mother…"

"Oh!" Malon laughed. "You got me on a rant about O'Keefe!...So wait, what did you want to ask me about Mrs. Cleverly?"

It felt slightly more uncomfortable asking a second time. "Well, it just that it sort of seems like… I mean, with all the stuff you've told me about her, she seems a little…"

"Bit like a control freak?" Malon offered, smirking. "Yeah. Her kids almost never had a peaceful moment. She was like this hawk, who'd peck you to death if you put one toe out of line." Laughing, she heaved herself up on the counter with a Coke can in her hand. "I remember this one time I was sleeping over at Zelda's, and we were about ten or eleven years old. Anyway, we were in her room and the lights were off—"

"So basically, you were pretending to be asleep," Link said, smiling, "but you were awake, talking."

"Exactly. Anyway, I have no idea what time it was, but it was pretty late…and all of a sudden, we saw the hall light go on. We'd shut the door, but could see it through the crack underneath, you know? Anyway, from what we gathered, Terra and Jack—her half-siblings, remember—had gone to see their dad's grave without their mom's permission." Malon frowned, remembering. "Actually, she had blatantly told them earlier that day they couldn't go."

"But they did anyway?" Link asked quietly. He fiddled awkwardly with a dish towel. "How old were they?"

"Well, let me see…Jack would've been like twelve, and Terra six- or seventeen." Malon whistled. "Boy, she was really mad. Whether they like it or not, most of the girls inherited their beloved mother's temper. Terra's usually very quiet and agreeable, but that night she really lost it. Kept going on about how this was the anniversary of his death, they hadn't seen his grave or put flowers on it in ages, and why was she, Mrs. Cleverly, being so selfish and crazy about it…and then Clarissa—or Mrs. Cleverly—got into it, and said she'd never heard of such an ungrateful daughter, how she'd been waiting up sick with worry, and then Terra called her a liar…" Malon hesitated, looking almost as if she was going to be ill. "I remember Zelda crying, and Jack crying, and Terra getting grounded for about five months."

Link had to wonder why she was telling him all this. He didn't mind, but had hardly known her for two days and he felt like she shouldn't be digging this deep into her history around him. He just sincerely hoped Malon wouldn't burst into tears, because that's what it looked like she was about to do; but she only inhaled deeply and put a hand on her chest before continuing.

"Wow, I…I've never told anyone about that before," Malon told him, shuddering. "I mean, not like it was life changing or something that's scarred me permanently, but… it just felt really good to finally get it out of my system." She smiled apologetically. "That's what you get for starting me rambling. Thanks for listening."

"Any time," Link said honestly.

"Be aware, that I might actually take you up on that," Malon warned him. "Gosh, it's been years since I thought of that night. I haven't even talked to Zelda about it since."

"What would she say if you did?" Link heard himself asking.

Malon lifted her nearly forgotten Coke can and replied, "She'd have said she was ashamed she cried." Then she swiftly took a swig of soda and subsequently coughed. "Flat," she sighed. "I lose more drinks that way…"

There was a lull in their conversation. The sounds of piano playing reached the kitchen. It was fast and sounded like it was in a minor key. Link raised his eyebrows. "Is that her teacher, or is Megan the next Mozart prodigy child?"

Feeling more at ease, Malon laughed. "That's Saria. It's her signature piece."

"It's beautiful," Link murmured after hearing a few moments more. "What's it called, do you know?"

"Well, the old people only made her play it about five hundred times during their poker games, so yeah—it's called 'River of Broken Glass' by Kimberly Quinn."

"Never heard of it."

"No one has."

"It's sad," Link decided. "But at the same time, not too dramatic. Beautifully tragic, sort of. If that makes sense."

"Yeah, it's true," Malon agreed. "So I have no idea why the old people liked hearing it during their card games. But then, Saria's a regular Juke Box, she can play just about anything. She likes jazz, does Gershwin real good."

"So if Saria was their deejay, so to speak, what did you do?"

"I did the Charleston on top of her piano for spare change."

Pretty sure it was safe to assume she was joking, Link let out a laugh. "Wow. Bet they loved that."

"Oh they did."

"Do you play anything? Like, any instruments?"

"Nah, not anymore," Malon snorted, sounding both amused and bitter. "I did—what else?—piano 'til I was sixteen and got bored of it, so I stopped practicing, and my teacher told my dad it was a waste of money for me to go on if I didn't practice. So then I tried my hand at the flute for a year, and then the harp, because Zelda was so good at it."

"She played the harp?" Link asked, looking surprised and impressed.

"Plays," Malon corrected him. "I'm sure it's around here somewhere."

"I didn't know people still played the harp," Link said. "Except for little eighty-year old ladies in black-tie concerts."

Malon laughed. "Yeah. She made it look so easy…anyway, what do you play?"

He didn't answer for a moment, because he was listening to the evident difference of Saria playing "Rhapsody In Blue" to Megan's "Hot Cross Buns" (one a penny, two a penny!). Link cleared his throat. "I can play a trap set pretty well—drums, y'know. I had a band in junior high called Chelsea's Peers, because our lead guitarist was named Chelsea." He saw the slightly confused look on Malon's face. "It could be a New York thing," he explained. "There was a Chelsea Pier in the city…pier, peer, ya know…yeah, but anyhow we split after freshman year."

"What for?"

Link fumbled for a moment over how to answer the question. "We were all kind of going in different directions, musically. Didn't mesh anymore. I still play drums, but then I picked up the ocarina."

"What is that?" Malon asked curiously. "I don't think I've ever heard of one."

"It's uh, it's…uh…"

"Hard to explain?" Malon finished for him.

"Yeah," Link chuckled. "It sounds kind of like a pan flute mixed with a recorder, and looks…well, it's harder to explain how it looks."

"You should show me one some time, huh?"

"I bet my old one is at my parents' house. If I ever find it, you'll be the first to know. How's that?"

Malon smiled at him. "Loverly."

The phone rang, making them both jump. Malon instinctively reached it first. "Hello, this is the Cleverly residence….oh, Zelda, hi!"

"Hey, Mal. Could you do me a favor and pass along a message?"

"Yeah sure, no problem. Shoot."

"I expect I'll be home in an hour or so, and I could really use a good night off of work. So saying, tell Link the place we're going isn't totally casual, but isn't suit-and-tie either. No graphic tees or jeans, you know? But anyway, tell him I'll be there around seven to pick him up and to please not be worried or scared."

"Remembering the old Buckley incident, eh?" Malon snickered.

"I still can't believe she fainted before we even got to the restaurant."

"Maybe some people find you a little intimidating, Zellie-poo."

"Maybe some people are a little stupid, Mellie…poo? Wow. So you'll watch Megan for me while we're gone, right?"

"Of course. Not a problem."

"Great, I'll see you in a while; thanks a lot, Malon."

"You're welcome! Bye." She hung up the phone. "Well, Link, are you excited? Your job interview is going to be taking place this very evening, within the hour!"

"It is?" Link asked, sounding startled. "Wow, I…okay."

"You should probably change out of that Ramones shirt, though," Malon advised him. "Zelda's taking you to some semi-formal place. Do you have any shirts that are like, one straight color?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll go change into it now."

"Fabulous." As Link trooped up the stairs, Malon wandered back to the main hall. She pressed her ear to the locked doors as if to hear some kind of animal inside. She heard nothing but Megan's fingers hitting the keys in the room opposite. Slowly she turned and went into said room which held the source of the noise. Megan slowed her playing, and hit the final chord. Saria and Malon winced—it was the wrong one. Quickly fixing her mistake, Megan got a "very good" from her teacher.

"Well, I think that's all for this week," Saria decided, glancing at the clock. "You did pretty well, Megs, just work on exercise number five and the D scale for next time."

"Okay."

"And I'm putting you down for the recital at the end of the summer, right? Greensleeves?"

"Yeah," Megan sighed.

Saria stopped fiddling her purse and looked over at Megan. She smiled kindly at her. "If it's too hard you can play something else, okay?"

"'Kay." She started playing a scale. "Bye."

Saria laughed. "Bye." She stopped by Malon on her way out. "That mother of hers, I swear. She's making her play something way above her level."

"'Making' her?" Malon asked skeptically.

Rolling her eyes, Saria heaved a sigh. "Well, not technically, but she's cajoled her into it. Lord knows why, but Megan would do just about anything for that woman. I wouldn't even say she'd stop at walking through fire."

"Saria," Malon said, following her to the front door. "I can…understand where you're coming from and all, but you have to appreciate Zelda's history. She's had a rough life, and she really isn't as bad a person as she's made out to be."

"I guess I should've known that," Saria said, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. "From what I've heard about her father, Megan must've gotten that sweetness from some where. See you around, Malon."

"Bye." When Saria was about halfway down the walk, Malon called after her, "Okay, so where does Nymphadora come from?"

Laughing and turning back to face her, Saria ran a hand through her green hair. "Wood nymph," she said. "I used to love climbing trees."

&-

A/N: Sorry, I know what you're thinking! Not enough fluff, or even l/z-ness at all. But don't worry, the next chapter will be detailing their little night on the town and there'll be some good stuff there… in fact, I'm feeling in a good mood today so here's a teaser of what is to come next!:

Back at the table, Zelda idly stirred her Shirley Temple with her straw. Looking around at all the tables, she saw Schreiber with her husband Michael; the former caught Zelda's eye and waved.

"Hey, honey, you here alone?"

Zelda turned and saw the speaker was one of the lewd-looking, bald, old guy with a very poorly coordinated outfit. He had a lopsided grin on his face and a rather ugly 5 o'clock shadow.

"Actually, no," she replied coolly. "As you apparently did not notice, there is a table setting across from me which, if you are able to put two and two together, would imply that I am not here alone."

"Well then, where's your friend?" the man asked, seeming unfazed by this new information. "Is she on a trip to the ladies' room? I see she's finished her drink…and I see that you are having a Shirley Temple. Now that ain't no drink! No alcohol at all!"

"That's the idea."

"Don't drink, huh? Doesn't look like your lady friend does either—"

Not knowing what on earth was possessing her to use such an incredibly old-fashioned scapegoat, Zelda said, "I'm here with a man, actually."

The fellow swayed a little but recovered and acted like she hadn't spoken. "Those are pretty nice stems you got—"

"Excuse me," said a lower voice behind the man. Zelda flushed with relief to see Link standing there, looking dark and holding the stranger's shoulder in a vise grip. "You're in my way." He caught the eye of a waiter and pushed the tipsy man towards him, looking disgusted.

As he sat down, Zelda quickly tried to end the little battle going on inside her head. Her first idea that had entered her mind was that what Link had done was romantic and considerate. Then another, colder voice thought it chauvinistic and geez, didn't he think she could take care of herself? He asked John for a refill, and Zelda thought, Don't be rude, be nice—let him feel appreciated—ha, ha, this is putting me back in control—

Trying not to appear worried that she might be schizophrenic, Zelda said, "Uh, thanks for… doing that. Guys like him really get to me." They got to her? Of course they did, who wouldn't they get to? Geez, she sounded like an idiot.

"No problem," Link said gruffly. "Sorry if he bothered you."

A/N: Well, I'm trying. And don't worry, the next update will come much sooner than this one did! (Sorry!)