Copyright disclaimer: I think I'm going to give up on teling jokes in these things for awhile. You know, until some fresh ones come up. I do not own the Legend of Zelda.

CHAPTER 17: Hands/Lips

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Such a narrow mind is evidence that you are, in fact, a Hylian."

"And such an ignorant statement is evidence that you are, in fact, a jackass."

Ghirahim and I had been going at it for almost ten minutes. He'd said that massaging bruises would make them fade away faster, and I wasn't having it. He suggested massaging all the ones on my back, but I didn't want him to touch me for a prolonged amount of time. Or at all, really.

"Regardless of whether or not I am a jackass, you have little say in this matter," he said smugly.

"How is that?"

"Though you can argue with me, can you defend yourself? You are in such a weakened state that if you move excessively, you become nauseous."

"I can just vomit on you."

"With your back to me?"

"I can try."

"I am hoping to aid you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, running his hands through his hair.
"Those delectable cries from last night are all I can think about," he moaned.

"You need help."

"As do you," he piped, already back to his normal posture. "And so, without further ado, I will be your savior." He stood and grabbed me by the collar, dragging me away from the kitchen table.

"Let me go!" I demanded, throwing useless punches and kicks everywhere as he pulled me towards his bedroom.

"Link, you need an intervention. You refuse to accept help from others, and take on too many problems on your own." Even if he was being sarcastic, it hit close to home.

"Don't speak like you know me," I muttered.

Ghirahim dragged me straight through his bedroom to his bathroom, and turned on the water in his obscenely-sized tub, all the while holding my collar. He turned to me.

"Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Strip," he repeated, tugging on my collar.

"Why?" I asked, teeth clenched.

"You are taking a bath, obviously," he said with slight annoyance.

"Why?" I repeated, brushing his hand off of my collar.

"The water will help the bruises." I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, fine, whatever. I'll do it, so get out."

"I'll be massaging your contusions while you are in the bath." He covered his eyes and turned so he was facing the other way. "Make haste."

I undressed and wrapped a towel around my waist, then plopped into the tub. I had planned to say something like, 'I'll stick with the water, so don't touch me,' but something completely different came out:

"It's freezing!"

Ghirahim turned around. "How observant," he said. He glanced through the water at the towel around my waist just as I stood, shivering. The water was ice cold.

"Come, sit back down," Ghirahim commanded, putting his hands over my shoulders and pushing me down into the tub. My teeth were chattering, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I don't want you to touch me," I managed.

"But this happens to be my home."

"I'm guessing you mean I need to follow your rules," I said, beginning to get used to the water. "So doesn't that mean you need to follow mine when you're in my home?"

"I do not follow the guidelines of others." Wow. What a freaking rebel.

"Then why the hell should I follow yours?" He seemed to become more irritated with every word I said, so I decided to maybe shut my mouth.

"Because I can kill you at any time." I shut my mouth. "Show me your back." I complied and he sighed wistfully. "This really is beautiful," he sighed, running his fingers over my skin. "But it would have been gorgeous, superb, magnificent, if I had done it."

"I think you might be a psychopath."

"Well, you are entitled to your opinions," he said. He pressed his knuckle into my back with force and I yelped in surprise.

"Alright, we're done." I stood up again, and he leaned over me.

"Not after that wonderful noise you made. This is the exposition to a great day, detective!"

It seemed like every day that I was with Ghirahim was the worst day of my life.

After he'd threatened me with a pocket knife, he continued to push his fingers into my back with too much power until I was even more sore. By the time he was done, my fingertips looked like prunes. I was in a bad mood.

"Can I have my clothes, now?"

"I threw them away." Of course. That's great. I really appreciate it.

"Okay."

"Listen to everything I say before you become even more impudent. Your suit was torn when I found you, so I discarded it. The thing was out of style and low quality anyway—"

"Well, you are entitled to your opinions," I muttered sarcastically.

"—so I bought a new one."

"Dammit."

"What? Do you not mean 'thank you, Ghirahim, you splendiferous being'?"

"Thank you, but how much was it?" I was already in enough debt to him for saving my life twice, I didn't want to be in any more. He smirked and handed me a bag.

"You would not be able to afford it without a loan. But we can worry about how you'll be paying me back later." I will be investing in pepper spray, asshole.

I pulled the contents out of the bag. The smell of money wafted out, as did a matching grey suit jacket and pants, as well as a mint green button down shirt, a green argyle sweater vest, a leather belt, a white tie, a pair of navy socks, and a black pair of dress shoes. I stared at it. Am I even worthy to wear such expensive looking clothes?

"Wipe that unbefitting expression off of your face." I blinked, and stared at him instead. "Are you basking in my glory? Do you finally realize that you are lucky to even be in my presence?"

"Can I have my cell phone?" I ignored his gloating.

He grumbled curses under his breath and shoved it into my cheek. I snatched it from his hand and stared at the lock screen. I couldn't remember my passcode. I was sure Ghirahim had gone through my phone at some point, though.

"What's my passcode?"

"Three-seven-zero-six." I unlocked it and changed it to a twenty character password, then checked my messages. I had 46 texts from Fi, and 18 voicemails.

"When did you call Fi?"

"The day after I found you." He stretched and walked to the door. "Hurry and dress yourself. I am quickly tiring of you."

"You'll take me home?"

"I'll take you to the subway station." He left the apartment and slammed the door behind him, and I scurried to his room to dress myself. The clothing fit perfectly, and I felt guilty for wearing it. I called Fi and she picked up before the first ring could even finish.

"Link?" she asked, sounding more relieved than I'd ever heard her.

"Afternoon, Fi," I said easily.

"What happened to you? The man I spoke to said you were unconscious."

"On Friday, I was feeling kind of light-headed, and I blacked out. I hit my head pretty hard, though. I might have a concussion," I laughed.

"This is no joking matter, detective! You need to get to the hospital."

"No, no, I'm fine now. I'm a little sore, but my, um, friend, helped me out."

"Do not come to work. You need rest. Are you home? Get in bed."

"I just left my friend's house, I'm on my way to the office to check in," I lied.

"Do not come to work," she repeated. "There is a huge case waiting for you," she told me. "You can come in on Thursday at the earliest." I appreciated how much she cared, but I was itching to start the huge case she'd mentioned.

"I'll see you in twenty minutes," I told her just as Ghirahim entered the bedroom. "I'm fine, Fi, don't worry." I ended the call and looked up. Ghirahim was reaching towards me.

"Your tie is crooked." He tightened and readjusted it, and then his hands fell to his sides. There was an impressed glint in his eyes. "I must say, you clean up well."

I looked up at him. "Thanks."

"But your hair is absolutely hideous." He smirked and strolled out of the room. "Come, I have your coat and boots," he called. I walked into the kitchen, and he handed me my coat, scarf, and hat, as well as a shopping bag with my snow boots. I pulled them on, and dropped my phone into my coat pocket, glad to feel that my wallet was still there. Ghirahim put on his cloak and walked to the front door.

There was a keypad there, with both numbers and letters. He tapped on it excessively.

"Is that for your security system?" It looked too complicated to be one, but I asked anyway.

"It opens the door. You cannot exit without the password." With a click, the lock on the door turned by itself, and Ghirahim held it open.

I walked through and looked down the short hallway. Ghirahim's door was the only one on the floor, so I guessed that he had the penthouse suite. It fit his character.

We didn't speak in the elevator, nor when I followed him through the extravagant lobby with too many crystal chandeliers to count, nor when we walked through the garage.

His sports car was sleek, black, and needlessly shiny. I watched in wonder as the doors opened upward.

"Stop gawking, you swine." I entered the car and almost sank into the plush leather seat. He sped out of the garage and the ride was so smooth that it almost felt like we were gliding across the road.

We were still silent, but he broke the spell of quiet.

"So, detective, have I the honor of gaining a fraction of your trust?" I thought about his question seriously.

"I don't think I can answer that," I said. "But you have earned my gratitude." The train station was approaching. "However, I think you should stop visiting me."

The car rolled to a stop in front of the station.

"Okay," he agreed, and I watched as his lips formed the words. "Then, a parting gift from a visitor," he said, putting something cold and heavy in my hands and closing my fingers around it tightly, "and a welcome from one accomplice to another." I was still watching his lips, and he grinned wolfishly after speaking. I noticed, however, that he pulled something away from whatever was in my hands: a metal ring.

The door opened, and I stepped out. He sped away.

I looked at my hand and froze.
There was a grenade there, and he'd pulled off the safety ring.

'Donotpanicdonotpanicdonotpanicdonotpanic' was all I could think. As long as I held the safety lever, it wouldn't explode. Clenching it tightly, I shoved my hand into my pocket. The train would be there any minute. I walked quickly, slid my subway pass over the scanner, and made it onto the train just as the doors were closing.
It would be a ten minute ride until my stop. How long could I hold the thing? My hands were getting sweaty, and they were shaking, too. There weren't many people on the train, and only two other people were in the car with me. Not many people were on the subway at three o'clock in the afternoon in Skyloft. I stared out the window; we were passing an open field.

Now or never.

Without a second thought, I pulled the emergency stop lever and threw open the door at the front of the carriage as the train rushed to a stop. I stepped out and chucked the grenade as far away as I could, counting four seconds before it exploded.

"Tell me again, detective, how you obtained the hand grenade?"

"A stranger tapped me on the shoulder, placed it in my hand, and removed the safety ring. Then he walked away."

"And how long did you hold it?"

"Probably five or six minutes." This was the eighth time the policeman had asked that string of questions. I was in an interrogation room, on the side of the table where the evildoers sat. It was uncomfortable. My one call had gone to Fi, asking her to send someone to retrieve me. I explained everything to her, and she'd sounded horrified.

"And you say he was wearing black? That's all you can remember?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have you wait here a little while longer while I run this by the chief."

"Won't be necessary, officer," a familiar voice said from the doorway. I turned, and there stood Pipit, flashing his SkyCorp badge, and Chairman Groose behind him.

"I'll need to see the chief," the officer said, scurrying out of the room and forgetting to close the door.

Pipit and Groose walked in, standing on the other side of the table.

"What have you been doing?" Pipit asked.

"What's wrong with your face? Ya get into a fight or somethin'?" Chairman Groose asked, poking my nearly healed black eye.

"I blacked out in an alleyway, and I hit my head. I was unconscious for a few days."

"You hit your head that badly?" Pipit asked, concerned.

"Yes. I'm fine now." I was lying, but I'd just told worse lies to the police, so what were a few more?

The policeman entered the room. "You're free to go," he said. "I'll unlock your handcuffs." I stood and slid the handcuffs off of my wrists.

"They weren't locked," I told him.

Pipit, Chairman Groose and I were walking the two blocks between the police station and SkyCorp.

"Zelda's called an emergency meeting," Groose said. "There's a big case, and she wants only the best working on it."

"Do you know what it is?" I asked. I sounded tired, and I was. Though it was only a two block walk, I was spent. I hadn't fully recovered and my persistent headache was gnawing at my endurance.

"Nope," Pipit said. "I'm kind of excited. The best of the best, all working together."

"You can never get enough of the company bonding, huh?" Groose asked jokingly.

"I just want to be close with everybody, uphold company relationships, you know." We arrived at the building.

Pipit held his ID up to be scanned and held the door. Even if he was holding the door, it was required that all people entering the building had their company ID scanned so that they could be accounted for. Groose pulled out his, and I flipped open my wallet, but my card wasn't there. It was always there, so it had to have been taken out, but I couldn't make a big deal of it.

"Hurry up, Link, it's cold," Groose said from the door.

"I can't find mine, I guess I left it at home," I said.

"That's fine. Fi will be on your case to leave as soon as the meeting is over anyway."

I entered the building and relaxed. It was like my second home. I could look for my ID later. I dropped the shopping bag with my snow boots in my mailbox. There was an unmarked, sealed folder there, but I'd open it when I got home.

"Yo, we've got five minutes, hurry up." I entered the elevator with Pipit and Groose. We stopped at the 79th floor, meaning we'd be using the executive boardroom. Impa was waiting outside of the door.

"You have a minute," she said. "I heard from Fi what happened to you." She looked me up and down, and narrowed her eyes. We walked towards the boardroom. "Who is this friend of yours?"

"I—" I was going to speak and come up with a story at the same time, but Pipit interrupted me.

"Ms. Impa, that's a personal question, and Link isn't entitled to answer it." She looked at him and gave a tight smile.

"Yes, I suppose so." She opened the semi-opaque glass door that lead to the boardroom.

I don't know what surprised me more, the fact that Horwell was in the SkyCorp building or the fact that he was just a few yards in front of me.

He smiled when he saw me, but when he saw me, he stopped dead in his tracks.

I entered the room and took a seat next to him, my back to the large windows.

"What happened to you?" he asked, whispering.

"Why are you here?" I asked at the same time.

"I will now be calling roll," Impa called from the front of the room. "Karane. Pipit. Chairman Groose. Former Vice Chairman Horwell. Link. Keet. Owlan. Fledge." Each of us made known our presence after our names were called. Fledge was representing the entire forensics lab; Keet and Owlan duly represented the intelligence divison.

"Everyone is present, then," said Zelda, from the head of the table. "Some of you may already know, but you all will be working together on one of the biggest cases to ever come through the doors SkyCorp. Before I begin, I am going to offer you an out. If you do not believe you will be able to handle it, leave." No one moved, and Zelda smiled. "That's settled, then," she said.

Impa flipped off the lights and a projector lit up the wall behind Zelda. There was a photograph of a mid-sized cargo ship on the open sea, sun shining down from a cloudless sky.

"It has been brought to my attention that the Sandglider, one of the few cargo ships that Skyloft City utilizes, has yet to dock, though it was scheduled to do so one week ago."

"Why do we need such a big team to find a lost ship?" Groose asked.

"We surmise pirates have taken the crew hostage and stolen the city's cargo, as people living outside of the city have reported to us on such issues in the past," Zelda said. "This has the potential to become very dangerous, so we will need the combined minds of you all, first to find the ship, the crew, and the cargo. With that said, there is the problem of getting there. Scaling Hylia's Mountains is out of the question," she said, referring to the mountain ranges surrounding the city.

"And an express flight out would be too expensive, not to mention the weeks it would take for the flight to even be approved," Karane said, thinking aloud.

"But we don't need to worry about either of those things," Pipit offered. "There is an unpaved road that leads outside of the city, through the twin peaks."

"So it's in West, then?" Horwell asked. If even Horwell hadn't known about it, I was a bit curious to know how Pipit had come across such vital information.

"You can be there by the middle of next week, considering preparations," Impa calculated.

"Would anyone like to volunteer to go ahead of the group to secure the pathway and the area where you will set up base camp?"

"I'll go," Karane said.

"Pipit should go, too," Keet said, slyly. "Since he knows the area and all."

Though it was dark, I was sure Karane and Pipit were both blushing. It wasn't much of a secret that they'd liked each other since they'd met.

"We'll leave early tomorrow morning," Pipit announced.

"That is fine. To everyone else, prepare yourselves over this week and a half. Bring what you can for desert climate, and have enough weaponry on you to go against leagues of pirates. Impa will forward to you the minutes of this gathering as well as more information on the case." Zelda exited the room with Impa and the lights switched on.

"Well, she never was one to mince words," Horwell said.

"It's good to see you here, Detective Horwell," I smiled.

"Can I talk to you, Link?"

"Of course." I followed him out of the room and glanced back at Pipit, who was speaking with Karane. I'd have to drop the topic of his knowledge on the path out of the city because the next time I'd see him it would be irrelevant.

Horwell and I walked down the hall and waited for the elevator.

"I'm not doing this because I want to help them," he revealed.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to help you." He looked down at me. "You really know how to make me worry," he said just as the elevator door opened. We walked in and pressed our respective buttons, Horwell for the lobby and me for Fi's floor.

"I don't mean to worry you," I said apologetically.

"Which is why it's even worse. What really happened to you? I know you didn't just pass out." I considered lying, but as an informant, he could come across the information easily. I couldn't say it openly because there were security cameras and voice recorders in the elevator.

"At eight o'clock tomorrow," I started, "let's get breakfast at Pumm's."

"Okay. You'd better tell me everything, missy."

I laughed. Such a small thing as my old mentor calling me 'missy' like the days when he worked at SkyCorp were enough to cheer me up some.

"Thanks for being such a caring friend," I said. He turned his head to me and quickly grabbed my wrist. A dull pain started up where the scars from the rope were. I looked at him.

"I can't just—" he began, but was interrupted by the elevator giving off a pleasant ding and its doors opening. He didn't continue, but he didn't take his eyes off of me.

"This is my floor," I said.

"Oh," Horwell replied, releasing me. "See you tomorrow." I nodded and left. I wondered what he wanted to tell me, probably to tell me to stay safe.

I stopped by Fi's cubicle.

"Detective," she said.

"Good evening."

"You accepted the case?"

"I did."

"Do not overdo it. You need to go by the hospital tomorrow."

"I'm fine, really."

"You always say things like that. You said you were 'fine' last friday, but evidently not because you fainted. Your health insurance covers it. I scheduled a check up at Skyloft Medical Center at ten thirty tomorrow morning. I will drag you by your ankles if I need to."

"I'll go. But I'll be working tomorrow as well, it can't be avoided since I accepted the case. Thank you for all your hard work, Fi."

"I just don't know what to do with you," she sighed.

We said our goodbyes and I went by my mailbox to pick up my snow boots and the unmarked folder.

Walking home as the sun went down, I was paranoid. I was sure that the Imprisoned were watching me, but no matter where I looked, I saw no masked men.

I rushed into my apartment and hurriedly locked the door. There was no one there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I flicked on the lights and the heater before I removed my coat and sat at my desk.

I would have loved to do nothing more than to take a few pain pills and fall asleep, but I was anxious to know what was in the sealed folder that I'd found in my mailbox. I untied the string that held it together and poured out the contents. The first thing to slide out was my company ID.

I should have known this would be bad. I never receive mail in the first place.

I reached into the folder and pulled out a thick sheaf of photographs wrapped in parchment paper. Under the leather cord, there was a small note. I cut the cord and unwrapped the parchment.

The picture on the top of the stack was one of me standing in front of the courthouse, speaking with someone out of the frame. It was taken from across the street. With a feeling of panic crawling over my skin, I leafed through the photographs. The next photos were out-of-context snapshots. The back of my head, the sign of the street that I was walking on.
Then, I understood that these were pictures of me on the day that I was abducted. I skipped to the last few photos.

In one image, my white shirt was soaked a pinkish red and I was laying in a shallow puddle of my own blood. My face was swollen, and I looked pitiable to say the least. It must have been taken after the Imprisoned had beaten me, but I didn't care to see those images.

In the next photo, the man that I recognized as Seven was holding my wrist and a syringe filled with blue liquid. The photos to come revealed that I was injected with it, and that I'd been propped up, only to slump forward.

The last photo was centered on my slouching, unconscious body, flanked on both sides by bodies covered in black.
Their masks weren't showing, but I knew who they were.

I flicked open the card that was attached to the sheaf of photos. It was a blank greeting card with a glittery smiley face on the front, and a note had been written in neat handwriting:

Mr. Link, we collectively agree that playtime with you was very enjoyable.
We hope you had fun as well.
The genius detective you are, you must have already gathered that we used a blue drug on you instead of green for your last injection. To keep things simple, I will just let slip that you told us some interesting things about yourself. 8 is excited to see you again, as are the rest of us. We understand that you have a desert expedition to attend to, so we will allow you that short time before we see you again.

When you return, we would like to chat with you.

Sincerely,

45678 and 9-2000

Very slowly, I set the note down on the table.
I sighed a very tired sigh.
Very slowly, I pushed my chair back and stood.

Very slowly, I placed my hand on my desk.

With one quick, fluid, motion, I shoved everything from the table top onto the floor. The pictures scattered, my pens clattered against the ground, my desk lamp tipped over.

Goddess, my shoulders felt so heavy. I turned off the lights and climbed atop my bed, leaning against the wall and folding into myself. I rested my forehead on my knees and began to laugh.

I laughed and laughed and laughed, thinking that my life could never have been so twisted, the fact that organized crime syndicates wanted to make 'deals' with me was hilarious, the fact that an insane terrorist handed me a grenade as a parting gift was hysterical!
Then came the sensation in my throat that it was squeezing, that choked up feeling when you're about to cry and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

My knees were wet and my shoulders were shaking, but I wasn't laughing anymore.

The wretched phone was ringing. I had fallen into a heavy, motionless sleep, positioned awkwardly against the wall. I hadn't expected to sleep at all, but my phone was buzzing stupidly on the floor. I almost fell off of the bed while reaching for it, but I picked up on what would've been the last ring.

"Fi?" I said.

"No."

"Ugh," I replied instinctively.

"'Ugh'? What do you mean 'ugh,' you insipid brat?" Ghirahim replied.

"Don't call me."

"At any rate, I lost the copy I made of the key to your apartment."

"That's great."

"It was not the only copy that I own, it was just the one I kept on my person when I went out."

"Why are you telling me any of this?" I pulled the phone away from my ear to look at it's clock. 10:54 PM. I'd slept for almost four hours.

"...me in," he said, I hadn't caught all of it.

"What?"

"I'm outside, let me in."

"No. Go home." I wanted so much to insult him, but nothing good came to mind.

"You know, when I don't have the key," he began as the door swung open, "I just pick the lock."

And so began another toxic epoch with the heinous entity named Ghirahim.

A/N: I'll try to keep this one short. Sorry for the late-ish update (does two weeks count as late? I know a few fanfics that are updated once a month). I could give you the lame excuse, but it doesn't really matter.

So, I've got a question for you, just your opinion. Am I keeping you at the edge of your seats? Soon, very soon, there will be high paced things happening, so if you aren't excited now, (hopefully) you will be then!

P.S. Massaging bruises does make them go away quicker, as does direct contact with cold things. Ghirahim knows his stuff.