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IIII [Prince]

Link exhaled carefully as he sat up finally and flexed his calf again. Skyloft sat back, sweat and blood across his face and smiled a little shy. He spoke, and Link didn't need to hear him to infer the question.

"It feels fine," he signed and stood carefully to look across the clearing at the rest of the group. It was less men than he was used to commanding at home, and that was a small favour: only a handful of them were seriously hurt, a blessing when they'd only had two healing potions left and no fairies. He almost wished they were in his world: he knew where all the Great Fairies were there, near the castle and other sites, and had....

Well, calling that a good relationship was possibly giving them a bit more credit than they deserved after their teasing, but it worked out in the end to something that made it easier to acquire more companions.

It made him miss Proxi, but no fairy ever stayed at one task for long. Two years of war had pushed even her patience.

Skyloft tapped his hand again and spoke only once he'd looked his way, knowing he could somewhat read lips when the other man still hadn’t picked up more than a little sign. Ordon was busy helping splint Four's leg, and Rabbit was sleeping off a potion for a head wound. Four was going to have to wait, but his broken leg hadn't been compound like Link's own.

He checked the group for Engie next, their medic and his brother in spirit, and found him crouched at Hateno's side. He was doing something with his bag: painkiller, possibly. Hateno sometimes did need some after a hard fight if his arm had been jarred too badly and his body thought that the burned limb was still there.

There was a long, bloody stain down Engie’s denim shirt, still shiny: long experience of war meant he knew instantly it wasn’t sweat. They'd been recuperating for almost a half hour; nobody should have fresh blood, not with their healing. Especially not on their back. Link looked around and waved at Kokiri to get his attention before he signed,

"Has everyone been seen?"

"Yes," Kokiri waved it off until he followed Link's gaze.

He clearly didn't see it. Against the dark work clothes Engie had pulled up against the chill air, it was hard to tell as the heavy blue cloth stained as dark with sweat as it did with fresh blood. Link went to his side and clicked his tongue to get Engie’s attention.

The medic looked up from setting aside equipment to be cleaned and stood. Watching for it, Link saw him waver in place, his eyes a little distant, brown skin a little grey in the dappled light. It could just be fatigue.

It could also be blood loss.

"You have a cut on your back," Link signed. "It looks bad. We need to take a look at it, now."

Engie frowned, confused, and reached back to touch the spot in question. Immediately, he winced and sighed, mouthing something Link thought was a curse. Engie tried to wave him off. "It'll be alright, I just need a potion—"

"We're out of potions." Link jerked his head forward, to get Kokiri's attention as much as his. "Kokiri knows how to sew up a wound, we can—"

Engie blanched and jerked back. "No!" he said, then signed rapidly, "I'm fine, I swear, it's not a big deal—"

Link might have believed him, had he not overbalanced in his denial and staggered, falling back against Kokiri. The other man caught him, and caught his breath. He pulled back his left hand covered in fresh blood.

Either Engie had been bleeding heavily or reopened his wound, and neither was a good sign.

"Engie, that has to be seen."

"Let go of me!"

Pale, distraught and bleeding were all bad signs. He could hear the others saying something , arguing he imagined, but for all they had good healing that might be the only reason Engie was still on his feet at all.

How much blood had he lost? How much more was he losing now that he was fighting them?

Fuck he didn't even have any of the sedatives from his own world to use.

Kokiri, across from him, signed just one word, "Now."

If Engie had to hate someone, it would be him. Link took him from Kokiri's arms and he wasn't even strong enough to seriously fight. He got him down to the ground, his arms and shoulders pinned, as Kokiri took his legs and cut open his shirt.

Someone was shouting. If he'd had a free hand, he'd ask for water or hope someone would guess, but too much was happening too quickly and Kokiri could work with what they had: bloody skin and Engie’s own kit.

Movement appeared on his right side. Link looked up, harsh, and Hateno simply crushed something over the wound to wash away the blood. Once that was done – once Kokiri had nodded and started threading the needle – Hateno dropped to touch Engie’s face.

Talking to him, Link guessed. Good. Someone should, it might help him calm down.

This was all he could do.

He felt it each time Engie reacted to Kokiri's work. It took longer than he would've liked, but Kokiri's hands were shaking from the blood and the cut was long: nearly eight to ten inches along his back, and deep enough Link wondered irritably if Engie had deliberately ignored it knowing he couldn't face this. He knew, from long ago Engie feared needles, but he 'd thought he was over that now that he’d become a medic.

K okiri finished. He picked up Engie’s bag and his cleaning bowl and rose; Link just as quickly let go and turned looking for one particular person he knew would help.

As he'd hoped, Far was nearly on top of them already. "Take care of him," Link signed, and then just as quickly he turned away and walked out of the clearing before any of the others could start screaming at him and make a bad situation worse.

IIII [Far]

They could've at least finished with bandages, Link thought, and immediately discarded it: you couldn't bandage someone pinned to the ground. He did at least jump when Prince said to. Hateno was already trying to help Chief sit up, and Link joined him quickly, kneeling and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the tears off his face.

"Hey, it's okay, they're done. Fuck, I'm so sorry but it's done."

Chief immediately switched from clinging to Hateno's tunic to his, freeing the other man to dig for the bandages he had in his own bag. Kokiri had left with all Chief's things, so they didn't have his. Probably it was for the best; Link had punched out some of his own sisters after they cleaned his wounds, simply on reflex.

Of course it hurt, but fuck he'd never seen Chief this upset.

"Lift his arms?" Hateno said, his voice soft. It might've been the morphine, but Link thought it was just shock.

Prince was fucking lucky he was deaf; Link didn't think he could've held down someone screaming like that, no matter how close to dying they were.

"Hey, Chief, Hateno's just gonna wrap your chest okay?" He had to get his ruined clothes off first, although that wasn't hard: Kokiri had cut clean down the back, so the sleeves simply folded off to each side. Chief was tense, but he seemed to have himself under control again, although he was still breathing hard. He dumped the cloth to one side and held his hands as Hateno wiped down his back with something to clean it before he finished the wrapping part too.

Hateno also had a spare tunic, loose enough to be easy to put on without too much movement . Once that was done, Link swallowed a little, unnerved as Hell by how still he was.

"Hey. Uh, we should sit somewhere else okay?" he offered. "Can I pick you up?"

He got the smallest nod, and he could work with that.

Gods and spirits, though, he forgot how damn small Chief was. He felt almost tiny in his arms; he wasn't light by any stretch, but he was small enough Link could move them away from the blood-stained grass to where someone had gotten tents set up. There, he sat down on one of the bed pads and nodded to Minish where he'd hidden in the corner. Minish had bolted the moment Prince had forced Chief down. Outside, Four was, from his own bed, still cursing both men's names to an awkward murmur of the others.

Link could already tell it was going to be a long night, but as long as Chief was curling tighter into his chest he'd stay right where he was for him.

IIII [Hateno]

"I know you couldn't see it," Link snapped, "but Chief was bleeding out."

He picked up Chief's torn clothes and vanished it into the Purah Pad as he stood, wiping bloody hands on his own pants as he went. His head was only a little blurry, clearer with the pain gone than it would be if his arm still throbbed like the day it burned.

"We're not that fragile," Skyloft snapped. "They could've taken a moment to let him relax."

"It looked like he was passing out on the spot," Smith retorted. "I'm not sure there was time. We don't have any more healing potions, Far spent all his magic on himself..."

"And ten seconds to let him collect himself wasn't longer than it took to hold him down."

"I'm still not sure I know what went wrong," Ordon said, and winced as everyone's attention fell on him.

Link could hear Four talking with Outset in the tent, both getting just as heated. He eyed his hands with a brief longing to wash, but given Kokiri had walked off with Chief's kit he was probably there cleaning them himself. Hylia knew where Prince had gone.

"He was scared out of his mind about something," Skyloft said. "Whatever it was Prince said to him..."

"Have you ever had someone sew shut a wound?" Link asked.

Skyloft had to stop and think about it; Ordon grinned and ran his thumb across the scars on his face, marks that certainly would've been a lot less violent if someone had .

"More than a few times," Smith groaned. "Ravio could be a dick about it."

"Reminds me of Robbie ," Link muttered. "Some people freak the fuck out at the mere thought of it, like to the point you do when you get water on your face."

Smith made a small choked noise and swore. He could see the thought cross his face as he recontextualized it; Link knew full well he was aware and frustrated every time it happened, every time something small cut off his breathing and he lost control. He’d thought Smith knew Chief, but it was possible it had never come up, or hadn’t since.

Hateno had only found out because it took Chief a minute every time he needed morphine.

Ordon bit his lip. "Are we going to have a repeat of one of Kokiri's panic attacks then?"

"I hope not," Skyloft muttered.

Link ran both hands over his face. "I'll see if I can find Prince. Someone needs to start dinner, alright?"

It was a solid distraction: Ordon and Skyloft both liked to cook, and immediately had requests for some of the ingredients he had. He left them to it and walked off, finding Kokiri as he expected by the water, sitting with a small magic flame to boil water to sterilize Chief's tools.

Kokiri might be half to blame for Chief's state, but nobody had ever really trusted him even if Chief had known him before. "Do you know where Prince went?" he asked.

Kokiri pointed further downstream, and Link nodded and went, walking carefully. His balance wasn't great on painkillers, and he didn't need to go in the water.

He found Prince about where he expected, sitting with his feet in the river and his braids over one shoulder as he stared blankly across the stream. Link sat next to him without a word, just waiting. Most of the others had been distracted: Chief had been sobbing, gasping in pain as they worked. He'd been, unfortunately, right there, watching them both.

Watching, and way too familiar with the choice Prince had made.

"How is he?" Prince asked.

"We got his back bandaged, and Far took him to the tent to lie down."

Prince nodded to that. There was another gap, a second long pause, and then he signed again, "How angry are the others?"

"Mad. They don't understand what you did, or why you did it. Everything happened so fast."

Prince grunted at that. His gaze wandered off again, and Link twisted to face him properly this time, flashing his hand for his attention.

"I think you need to talk to Chief, tomorrow."

Prince ground his teeth and looked away. "I don't think he'll want to see me."

"I don't think that matters," Link retorted. "I think he deserves to hear it from you."

"Hear what?"

"That you're not sure you were right. That you wish you hadn't done it. Because you do, I can see that just fine."

Prince startled and he laughed, teeth bright in his dark face, a humour that couldn't hide that he was near tears. "Do you?"

"Are you sure you had to act that fast?" Link asked, even though he didn't need to. He'd seen the same evidence as Prince: he'd been seeing it even as Chief was helping him, his face tight and grey with pain, his breathing fast even though he wasn't doing anything to justify it. He could smell the blood even before he saw it on Kokiri's hand.

And, in the heat of the moment, incoherence and fatigue looked like he'd suddenly gotten worse right up until he realized it wasn't blood loss but fear.

A fear Link could see Prince, at least, knew now that the urgency was gone.

"I believed I did," Prince said, and he swallowed hard as he reached the same conclusion. "I very well may have been wrong."

Link nodded. "You know he needs to hear you say that. You two have always been close."

Prince closed his eyes and turned away, his gaze lost downstream even as his hands went back to walk the length of his long, horsehair braids. Link sat by his side in silence. Normally, he'd have given him space but right now Prince deserved the comfort (the safety) of company that meant he didn't have to go back any sooner than he had to that night.

IIII [Chief]

Link slept poorly. He startled awake every time he moved too far and felt his back pull and he thought for half a second someone was still kneeling on him to pin him down. The tent was dark, but he wasn't alone: Far slept beneath him, waking every time he did with a quiet crack of his eye. On his other side, the vague lump that was Minish slept, curled up in a ball and nearly as twitchy as he was.

He hated it. Spirits, how many years had it been since he had this bad a reaction? He'd gotten a booster shot for the pox not two years ago and he'd been fine . He knew how to cope, but this...

His next breath shook his whole body and he buried his face in Far's shoulder to muffle the ones that followed.

It was fine. He knew, awake and more coherent for some rest, Prince was right. They were out of potions; he was the one who'd decided who got the two they had. Four could be stabilized; Hateno merely needed painkiller, Far could heal himself.

And he hadn't thought he was bleeding that badly.

It seemed he'd been wrong.

Recall was... poor after Prince had approached him. He'd only really heard him say they had to close it. Link had immediately understood what it meant: that meant stitches, and his mind had rebelled. Tired and surprised, he hadn't been able to control his response and then things just hadn't stopped happening. In his right mind, he'd have likely been able to think enough to give himself painkiller (one shot, one he could do himself, one he'd practiced for years and didn't have to think to do so he couldn't feel the rest) but nobody else could have done it for him or would even have thought to.

He'd forgotten how much it could hurt .

"Hey, it's okay," Far said. His voice was soft, even with sleep and Link relaxed against him. Far was good at being gentle when it was needed. "Still having bad dreams?"

Too exhausted to speak, he simply nodded into his chest. Far reached up to dig his fingers into the coiled hair at the nape of his neck, and Link slowly let himself relax. It worked for a few minutes more, but not forever: he'd collapsed so hard that night, he hadn't eaten dinner and he was feeling it now. He sat up with a groan, careful not to jar his back and only then glanced down at his shirt.

Right. They'd cut off his own. He was going to have to wait a while to replace that but Hateno had at least thought through which shirt was loose enough for his heavier chest. They were close enough in size, it fit him well, and he wriggled free of Far to step out and see what was for food.

He nearly tripped right back over the threshold rather than stay out.

Kokiri was up. Of course he was; sometimes the wiry man rarely slept, and Link supposed after last night he might not want to. Kokiri simply looked up at him with cold blue eyes, and shifted to start stirring up the fire again in time for everyone to be waking up.

Usually, he was the one in charge of breakfast. It was just hard to see him after last night.

He ground his teeth and turned to walk away from the tents, as though he had other business to attend to. He was hardly worse off than Hateno or Prince had been; at least Kokiri hadn't up and stabbed him.

This time.

The thought made him laugh: he couldn't even think of what he might do to get back at him for it. Stabbing him would just be something he felt was fair. He knew full well that Kokiri had had a life as miserable as Far's and come out whittled down to a very different shape than Far's softness. How could he fault him for something that had been normal in his eyes? Something he’d seen Link do himself, in medic tents in the War of Eras? Saving a life, above all else.

He didn't have to like it, but it made it easier to return to the fire nonetheless.

It was different, when Prince got up.

At least an hour had passed when Prince came out of his tent. Link was sitting by Far again, half-leaning into his side for comfort and the chance to stop thinking when he saw him coming from a tent across the way. The incongruity hit hard: normally, Link slept in the same tent as him.

There was no way to miss him in their group. Prince was tallest, with long blond braids and strikingly dark skin, and they still never saw him out of his red tunic (red, because he’d never wear green again after that horrible war.) But that only reinforced that Prince... Prince both should have known better, known Link could handle himself, and he supposed he had acted completely normally for what he knew.

He’d been a commander, a General. Prince had prioritized things the way Link had in a medical tent, the way he’d seen Link handle it... He looked down at his feet and wished he could hide or leave; anything to not draw attention to what happened again.

Was it better or worse, to know that at least Prince hadn’t heard him scream?

He was pretty sure it was worse.

Why wasn’t he moving?

“Chief,” Ordon said, in the soft tone that said he was translating for Prince. “He wants to just say something briefly, okay?”

He wouldn't refuse. He forced a smile and looked up to meet Prince's eyes.

Prince, someone Link had known a long time to never let his face crack or show emotion before others, licked his lips nervously and couldn't even manage any kind of smile in return.

"I wanted to apologize," Prince signed. "For hurting you."

"It's fine," Link signed back, quickly, hoping to get it over with. "I know you were trying to take care of me."

"Indeed. But we all know you can handle yourself given the chance. We are not so fragile I shouldn't have given you a little more time. I rushed, and I'm sorry for that."

Link closed his mouth, startled and just stared at him. He tried to think of another time Prince had apologized ( any time he'd apologized publicly like this) and couldn't think of it. He was so sure of himself. So confident. He would sooner choke than admit weakness: even after this long, Prince did not trust the others.

He was waiting for him to reply. Link swallowed hard again, and ducked his head before remembering he had to look up, but this time when he smiled it didn't feel as forced. "Thank you," he managed. What else could he say?

Well, he could say one thing. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that would be a problem sooner," he admitted. "We've had enough problems with secrets already."

That got Prince to laugh. "I'm glad that's all yours was. I don't think we'd survive another shock like Far's."

Far, beside him, groaned. "I said I was sorry!"

"What we need," Hateno interjected, " i s to figure out where we are so we can find either fairies or the right ingredients so if you and Kokiri can finish comparing notes on monsters...?"

Kokiri nodded and rose then. Link tensed, but suddenly he saw what Kokiri had in hand: his work bag, repacked and cleaned so only faint stains from his bleeding back remained on the leather, and his coveralls, washed and neatly sewn. He felt briefly ill as the dark stitches down the denim glared at him, but he folded it shut again and forced himself to think.

Kokiri had not slept last night, no, because he'd take the time – quite a lot of time – to wash and patch his things. He swallowed hard, with both items in his lap and still tender from the night before he lost the fight not to cry again.

Chapter Text

It was two days later when Engie’s avoidance began to wear on Link’s mood. He knew this wasn’t what Engie wanted; they’d rarely spent more than a few days apart during the war, and yet now he’d hardly been able to look at him. If... Link licked his lips, anxious. If he’d hurt him so badly he couldn’t even speak to him now....?

He wasn’t sure what could fix it.

There had been little that could separate them before, no matter how foolish Link had been – and Link had been a very foolish youth in the War of Eras. If Engie was that certain of his need to avoid him over something where at least he’d been trying to help... He would just tell him. Surely.

As such, late that evening as they camped and Engie retreated once more to work alone on mending his uniform, damages that had been put off even before the recent incident, Link followed him.

When he found him, Engie wasn’t even working yet. He was staring at the bright needlebook in his hands, his uniform with its equally bright embroidery at neck and shoulders laid over one knee. Link had never seen those additions before: it must be new, a mark of his position as Chief Royal Engineer back home. He looked up as Link approached and while his eyes tightened with nerves, he still managed a smile.

“Captain,” he signed.

Link hesitated, then responded not with his name but “Brother. I hoped we could talk a little?”

Engie gestured at the ground nearby, his face tired in a way he often didn’t let the others see. He was wearing himself thin again trying to take care of everyone, be strong for everyone...

“I’m sorry,” he signed, when Engie said nothing else. “I thought, after the war, it wouldn’t bother you like that still.”

The other man set the needlebook down in his lap after a moment and opened it, showing... blacked needles. Link stared a little, frowning – it was an odd, expensive thing to do to sewing needles – and Engie pulled one out to thread with the bright, saffron yellow thread he used on his uniform. Once done, he pinned it through the soft white fabric pages of the book.

It was nothing like the needlebook in his medical kit. Link had seen that often, and it hadn’t changed since the war: basic silver needles, black fabric, dark pages – the kind of fabric that didn’t show bloodstains, and matched the black case of his syringes. He could tell it meant something, but...

Engie turned to face him again, resigned, and he signed, “I know why you made that mistake. Whatever happened in Hytopia was nowhere near as... You knew about the fact I was afraid mostly through hearing about it. What you actually saw was that I could deal with it daily, for months on end. Of course you thought it wasn’t a problem.”

Link could only nod to that. The conclusion was obvious: in Hytopia, Engie had been young, younger than when he joined the War of Eras (although never younger than Link, himself.) They’d spoken about his goals, his injured Zelda and his work as a Royal Engineer and hopes to train as a medic as well... And the barriers to it: a panicked fear of needles, especially stitches.

But, as Engie said, when the War of Eras came he’d volunteered as a medic. Link had met him because he needed stitches and the smaller man had handled it as cleanly as anyone else in the medical tent. Better: he’d been as curt with him as anyone else, and as insistent he rest like anyone else, no matter how many times Impa said he healed faster.

It had been the first time anyone had defended his need to rest, for all he’d given in and left against his wishes. It had made it easier when, later, he’d wanted the excuse to hide... He’d needed someone to hide behind , unafraid of anyone’s insistence his healing meant he could simply carry on forever, no matter what had been done to him .

Engie – Chief – had given him that. So if he’d hurt him...

“I’m sorry,” Link signed. “I shouldn’t have ignored it. I just...”

“I was always the one taking care of you,” Engie signed. His eyes kept wandering away and back to the needlebook in his lap. He picked it up again and turned it over in his hands. “There’s... a difference between a normal fear, and one like... that. I was so young when things went wrong, I never really could best it. The medics who taught me had strategies – things I could do, ways to focus and put it aside because of necessity, but they all take time and energy I just didn’t have. I know Hateno went to talk to you...”

“He said you could’ve done something about it,” Link swallowed. “I’m sorry. I...”

Engie laughed then. “You remembered all the times I’d worked myself to passing out before.”

Link couldn’t help it; he laughed, too, as much in relief as anything else. Engie didn’t hate him. He was willing to talk, and that felt better than any other relief.

“I still don’t understand...”

“What is there to understand?” Engie sighed. He raised the pretty little book and pulled the needle out again, signing with it tucked between two fingers for a moment. “This is fine. I can sew fabric and embroider without a thought, right up until the moment I put the needle through the tip of my finger. A prick will take me a few minutes to calm down. If I don’t notice and put it through a callus, I’ll pass out when I realize I sewed myself to the work. Someone else will have to get me free, because I won’t be able to think clearly enough to do something that simple myself.”

Even saying it seemed to affect him. He gripped the book tighter and put the needle back with shaking hands. When he laid it down in his lap, he closed his eyes and took several long breaths.

Link waited but... He wanted to understand; he just didn’t. When Engie finally opened his eyes again and looked at him, Link couldn’t even think of words. He just held out one hand and – without even thinking – Engie set down uniform and needlebook both and came over. He leaned into Link’s touch and, almost immediately, Link was the one shaking.

He felt Engie swear and try to pull back out of concern, but Link held tighter in a brief panic at the idea he’d lose him again. As soon as he realized what he’d done, he let go and Engie stepped back and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” Link signed. He touched Engie’s shoulder again, and repeated it, “Engie, please I’m sorry.”

He saw his lips move, heard half a word and knew he’d said aloud, “It’s okay.” He turned to sit on Link’s lap instead, his head against his shoulder. There was nothing sexual about it; it was just the most practical way for them to sit, with Engie more than half a foot smaller than him despite being so much older.

They weren’t a decade apart now. They’d been only three or four years apart in Hytopia, but Link could only remember when he’d first met him: when he was barely sixteen, and Engie had been the small thickset, blunt but sweet (endlessly sweet and patient and kind) medic.

There wasn’t much more he could say. He tried to make it fit what he knew but... every time he tried, all he could think of was how exhausted everyone had been. The first time Engie had slept on his chest, he’d simply passed out there while trying to keep Link from leaving the infirmary with a barely healed broken leg. He’d been arguing with Zelda fifteen minutes before, and not long after he’d simply collapsed from sitting on his bed and passed out, so obviously exhausted Link had stayed where he was only to let him sleep.

Had that been part of what he meant? His bone had come out the side of his leg and had been set and cleaned up and stitched closed, and...

And thirty minutes after it, Engie had been shaking in fatigue and out cold.

Link had never actually put the two events together.

Everyone was exhausted by war, after all.

Engie said something aloud, and Link gently pushed him back so he could see. The other man reluctantly sat up, still looking tired just from speaking of it, and repeated himself in sign. “You thought of something.”

“Just how tired everyone was, then.” He swallowed, then added what he realized might be the obvious corollary: “How tired I was, after dealing with Lana.”

Engie barely smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. Any talk of the two sisters usually left him cold. “How often you came to the infirmary with some minor complaint, when you realized she wouldn’t fight me? Yes. It was something like that.”

Link couldn’t think of what else to say. He swallowed, tired, and touched his heart. He would’ve tried to speak again, but Engie just put one hand over his and shook his head.

“Thank you,” he signed. “For coming to talk to me. I know you didn’t want to hurt me.”

It wasn’t enough; Link wanted to protest it would never be enough, never an excuse... but Engie didn’t want to hear it. He sighed in deference to him again; sighed and let him win – let him have the last word as his elder (his older brother in so many ways) and Link pulled him into a shaking hug once again.

And this time Engie went loose in his arms and let him with a soft sigh of relief.