Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill us,” Guybrush said for the second time that evening as the other two scarfed down their food.

“But she’s helping us!” Graham said around a mouthful of omelet. “And it’s really tasty!”

“I can see mushrooms. I’m not touching it.” 

“I thought you said you’d eat anything,” Link pointed out, pointing at him with a fork.

“Yeah, but I don’t like mushrooms.” Guybrush leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And I’m not going to touch the plate.”

“Is this that phobia of yours again?”

“Yes.”

Link groaned. “It’s a plate, Guybrush… it’s not going to hurt you.”

“It’s porcelain, that’s what it is.” He turned away with a little “hmph” before continuing. “And porcelain is evil. Plate and simple.”

Link groaned, while Graham snorted, which quickly turned into a cough when some of the omelets went down the wrong pipe. It only took a moment for him to breathe again, a moment that Guybrush spent standing up and preparing to thump him on the back if needed. 

Once Graham wasn’t coughing, he gave a sly little smile, turning to Link. “Would you say we’re--”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll break the plate over your head,” Link threatened. Graham paused for only a second.

“... dishing out the puns?”

Guybrush burst out laughing, while Link groaned even louder before trying to cover his ears.

“...Ending the dish -cussion, are we, Link?” Guybrush added as a final jab. 

“I hate both of you.”

“Nope! You love us!” Graham teased. Link’s ears lowered in irritation, but it was only for a second before he continued eating.

It was sheer luck they’d come upon the cabin in the woods, especially after spending so long wandering that even Graham’s optimism was wearing thin. 

“There’s a light in the window!” Graham exclaimed once they were close enough. “Someone’s home!”

“Clam dip,” Guybrush mumbled. “It’s not just a summer home then…”

“What do you mean by that?” Link looked at him, only for Guybrush to shake his head.

“Oh, you know. Nothing.”

“...You were planning to break in.”

“Am I that predictable?” 

“No, we’ve just been with you long enough to know better.” Graham patted Guybrush’s back.

“Alright. Let’s go charm our way into staying the night. I’d rather not camp out again if those monsters come back.”

“You’re telling me,” Link mumbled, rubbing his still-sore shoulder. The trio of adventurers closed in on the door, and Graham was the one to knock. The moment the door opened to an old woman standing there, Graham began talking, taking off his feathered cap to look just that little bit more desperate.

“Hi! I’m Graham, and these are my friends, Link and Guybrush. We’re adventurers, but at the moment, we could really use a place to stay. Do you have an extra room, maybe?”

“Oh, hello, boys!” She cheerfully greeted them. “Why, look at you! You’re so handsome!” She pinched Graham’s cheek, then stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in? It must be so cold out there on a night like this.”

“...Honestly, I was not expecting that to work,” Guybrush mumbled to Link as they entered. The cabin was rather standard fare-- A fire burned in a fireplace, a table took up one wall with its five chairs and the surrounding cabinets, even a trio of rooms on the other end of the main one. Herbs were strung up above the fireplace, while some food cooked on a nearby stovetop.

“Why don’t you three take a seat by the fire? I’ll get some food ready for you.”

“Really?” Graham’s face lit up. “You’d do that for us?”

“Of course, dearie.” The old woman smiled at them, then walked to the cabinets, gathering ingredients from where they were.

“...Don’t we need to pay you or something?” Guybrush asked, wary. “I mean, most people aren’t okay with letting strangers come into their home…”

“No, not at all. You remind me of my dear children, and I only hope that wherever they are, someone will take care of them the same. Besides, you’ve likely been taking care of the monsters in this forest, and if I don’t have to worry about them while gathering ingredients, that’s payment enough!”

She continued her work, while the trio walked towards the fireplace. While Graham plopped himself on the floor to warm his hands, Guybrush wasn’t so quick to relax, instead leaning on the wall nearby. Link approached him.

“...What’s wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice down.

“I think she’s trying to kill us,” Guybrush said flatly. 

“She’s just letting us stay the night and giving us a meal. It’s happened in lots of places after we help.”

“We haven’t helped her specifically yet. For all she knows, we’re just common thieves.”

“Technically, you’re an un- common thief.”

“I prefer rare,” Guybrush shot back with a little grin that quickly faded. “But I’m being serious. I don’t trust this lady.”

“Food is ready!” she’d called, and before Guybrush could get in any more retorts, the others were going to the table, so he reluctantly followed.

That was how he’d found himself sitting at a table with a porcelain plate and mushroom-ruined eggs. He was almost certain the old lady was watching him from across the room, but he couldn’t find any way to prove it, especially when he was tucked in the back corner. 

“I… I think I’m going to go get ready to sleep tonight. Write in my log, all that.” He stood, pushing the chair in behind himself. “Sorry, lady, I’m not that hungry.”

“What?” Graham asked. “But the last time we ate was--”

“Maybe the last thing I ate disagreed with me, I don’t know, but… No thanks.” He turned on his heel, and walked through the room, opening one of the other three doors. 

“Do you think he’s alright?” Graham asked Link. Link shrugged.

“He’s acting paranoid. That’s all I know.” 

After dinner was eaten and the plates were cleared, Link entered their shared room to find Guybrush on the bed already, legs crossed and boots placed firmly in the middle of the quilt. 

“...Something is definitely going on here. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure, by the end of the night, I’ll get to the bottom of this. Whether I want to or not.”

“Hello to you too.”

Guybrush looked up, and smiled at him, moving over.

“Hey. Nice to see you. How was dinner?”

“Tasted better than anything you’ve cooked for us.”

Guybrush laughed at that, and shut his journal. “Hearing that from you is a laugh. Where’s Graham?”

“He’s helping wash dishes.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Guybrush leaned back, and Link joined him on the bed. “Earning his keep, even when he doesn’t have to.”

Link almost asked what was really bothering him, before deciding against it. Whatever it was, Graham would want to be there for it. Besides, it didn't take long before Graham joined them, hopping in between to grab them in a big hug.

“Good news! Miss Vasilisa says we can have some more food in the morning too!”

“Probably going to be poisoned,” Guybrush muttered, barely too quiet for Graham to hear but nowhere near quiet enough for Link to miss. The moment Graham drew out of the hug, Link put a hand on Guybrush's shoulder.

“What's gotten into you? You're not usually this suspicious.”

“The whole place gives me a bad feeling. It's almost like she was trying to single me out with the food. The last time someone bought us a meal, we were still one person, and home-cooking one is even more trust than that. Plus, somehow, we didn't even need to do something for her to get to stay the night,” Guybrush listed off. “All in all, I'd say that someone should make sure that there's no ghosts here, because I'd bet all my money that something bad is going on.”

“But she's been nothing but nice to us--”

“Exactly my point.” Guybrush sighed. “I've been burned too many times to think it's just good will.”

Graham didn't speak for a moment. Finally, he said “If you want, I can keep guard while you two sleep?”

“That… yeah. That'd help a lot. Just wake me up when you're tired, we can take shifts.”

“Okay. But promise you’ll get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try. No promises. I don’t make promises I know I’ll break, especially not to my friends.”

“Best we can expect,” Link admitted. Guybrush stood, and he took the armchair in the corner. Graham took the floor, leaving Link to the bed without any attempts at rock-paper-scissors to earn it. Guybrush picked a book off the nearest bookshelf, sticking close to the small fireplace so that he didn’t need as much light.

Even though Graham had offered to stay up and keep watch, he was still asleep in minutes. Guybrush smiled slightly, and shook his head when Graham began to snore. 

Some things never changed.

It wasn’t long after that when Link fell asleep either, even if Guybrush’s slumber took until the fire had burned down to embers. Even if he found himself awake not too long after, his heart racing as he checked his chest for the millionth time. No sword. No LeChuck.

No friends around him, either. 

Usually, Link would awaken every time that Guybrush jolted like that, hearing the sound of ragged breathing and the desperate ruffling of fabric as he checked his scars each time to make sure they weren’t a pit cut through his stomach or a missing hand instead. Graham would notice before long, and end up dragging Guybrush into the middle of the three of them on the same bed, whether he wanted to be there or not. 

But the bed was unmade, and the pillow was still on the floor, with no sign of either knight anywhere.

“Clam dip,” he muttered, and he gathered what he could of their remaining supplies-- Graham’s cap, Link’s scarf, the book he’d borrowed from the shelf, some root beer, the old grappling hook, some extra rope for any other pits-- before turning to the door of their room. 

Wait. Think about this. If someone just took them, why didn’t they take me? What about the lady out there? I don’t have a weapon. This could be a trap. 

He sighed, and whipped around, turning to the much safer option: The window. It was still dark, with only the full moon to light his way, but he slipped outside, shoving the hat on and throwing the scarf around his neck. The root beer, he tucked away in his pocket. The cold still bit at him through his thin outfit, but he clung to the scarf, keeping it tight.

As long as he’d known them, neither would go long without either accessory, and to venture out without root beer wasn’t like Graham since their encounter with the ghost at the inn and many of Guybrush's stories.

It wasn’t like them to leave without him.

(A part of him wasn’t surprised.)

He looked every which way, prepared to find monsters instead of friends. 

Despite their attempts to classify the monsters, not one of them had managed to find the correct word, pointing out both similarities and differences. They weren't humanoid, but they still stank like zombies did. They weren't like any animals, but they attacked with teeth and claws just the same. They weren’t any sort of creature Graham or Link had encountered, being just ever so slightly wrong. Worst of all, the look in their eyes when Guybrush managed to meet them had only complicated matters.

They were human eyes, clouded by hatred and something else. Something horribly familiar. 

…He hadn’t brought that up to the others, either. It wasn’t something he’d wanted them to know about at all, but thanks to Mako, that mess had come out. 

He only hoped that his other mistakes wouldn’t follow suit. (“Oh, yeah, one time it was entirely my fault LeChuck came back” and “Want to hear about how I left Wally for dead twice?” weren’t subjects he’d brought up, and as long as he could avoid them, he’d keep it that way.)

…Though that would explain why he was currently wandering around in a forest at the dead of night, fully aware of monsters around, all alone after they abandoned him. 

A few rocks fell somewhere nearby, and he froze, hiding behind the nearest tree as he looked around. It didn’t take long to spot the source: A small cliffside, with two levels. 

A quarry? Why would there be a quarry in the middle of a forest like this?

Two figures walked around, one on the upper level and one on the lower. As he watched, the upper figure swung a pickaxe, chipping off chunks of rock, carving deeper into the stone. The lower looked about, ears twitching slightly as he listened.

Even from a distance, in the cold light of the moon, he couldn’t mistake their clothes for anyone else’s. “Graham! Link! I was wondering where you were!” He exclaimed, immediately rushing out of hiding. Both turned to him at the sound of their names, but something was… different. Graham dropped the pickaxe, and pulled out his bow.

Something's wrong.

Guybrush ducked under the first arrow, just in time for it to hit a tree and burst into flames behind him. 

“Graham, what are you thinking?! It's me! Guybrush!” He waved his arms, as if doing so would make it more obvious that he was who he said. “I'm just borrowing the cap and scarf-- I'll give it back if you just come over here and talk to me.”

Instead of doing as he asked, Graham nocked another arrow, closing one eye to perfect his aim. Guybrush narrowly dodged again, this time to the side.

“Link? A little help here? Can't you--”

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” Link snapped. Guybrush immediately stopped, staring at him. Though Link’s eyes were closed, and Graham kept his distance, Guybrush felt like both were glaring daggers through him. 

“...Did I say something wrong?” He finally asked, softer than before. “I-- I know I have your things, but you guys didn’t take them with you-- I wanted to make sure we didn't lose them.” He fidgeted with his wedding ring, his hands shaking. 

Link drew the Master Sword, holding it in both hands. Guybrush instinctively raised his in response, showing how he had no weapon.

“What do you think you're doing here, Threepweed?” Link nearly growled. “Just talking your way out of another situation you got into?”

“Threep-- Link, this isn't like you. Neither of you two is acting normal.” Guybrush backed up, with Link keeping pace until Guybrush’s back hit a tree, leaving him pinned.

Most would see that as the time to surrender.

Guybrush raised his hands in the air, just a bit over his head, just a bit farther… In an instant, he grabbed a bough between his hands, bringing it down to shove the branch directly into Link’s face. With that, he sprinted away, grateful for his extra height for once. With his head start and lanky legs, he quickly put some distance between them, enough that he could try to formulate a plan.

They're not themselves. It's not them. I need to snap them out of it.

He hid in some bushes, holding his breath in an attempt to hide as his mind raced.

I need to find a way to cure whatever this is, and--

Guybrush froze, his heart skipping a beat. He'd dealt with something far too similar only a few years ago. Something that tore people apart, ruined so many things for so many people.

The Pox.

With that on his mind and his heart in his throat, his eyes stung, and he shook his head. No time. He didn't have time to think about that. It had to be anything, anything other than that.

How do I cure something when I don't know what it is?!

Chapter Text

Guybrush wasn’t one for keeping his mouth shut in any situation, but as he made his way up a tree, he was hardly even breathing in his desperate attempt to get away from his friends. With his long legs, his strides were enough to get him out of their immediate range, and the trees weren’t too hard to climb, even with his lack of practice. Link didn’t look up, giving Guybrush a chance to sit and plan. 

I need something to fix this… This isn’t natural. If it’s something magic…

He pulled out the book he’d “borrowed,” flipping through the pages. With the ruffling of wind in the trees, the sound was masked easily enough. Guybrush didn’t take long to find something.

Hen’s Leg: Although this toadstool looks like the Lion’s Mane (Also known as Monkey Head) mushroom, it can be distinguished by its more pinkish hue. The Hen’s Leg is mostly found in dark, damp locations, and often grows in cracks in cliff faces, bluffs, and other rocky locales.

Like quarries, Guybrush thought. Like the one they were at.

The Hen’s Leg can cause hallucinations, confusion, and uncontrollable outbursts of rage if consumed, but its most dangerous effects only occur if one continues to consume this toadstool. In this scenario, there have been recorded changes in the human body and mind, eventually transforming the victim into a beast. If consumed once, the victim will likely seek out more.

He skipped the rest of the page, and flipped to see the pictures of the next, only to find them much too familiar: A non-humanoid creature, one with red eyes clouded with hate. It was drawn with sketchy lines, barely clear, but the look was one he hadn’t been able to forget.

…If I don’t do something… that’ll be Graham and Link, too. It’s up to me to fix this. 

Guybrush swallowed his worries. No time to think about how much it sounded like the Pox. No time to think about the problems he’d faced before. It was time to find a solution.

There is no known cure for the Hen’s Leg’s effects once there are physical changes, but prior to this, there is one remedy: The Toadstool Remedy. This is described on page 243.

Once more, he flipped through the book, landing on the page. Unfortunately for him, that one was stained, leaving some of the words covered in whatever-it-was that had splattered it.

“...Clam dip,” he muttered, before looking below him again. Link had since left, leaving Guybrush on his own. Finally, he put the book away, and he climbed back down. “Alright. Find the recipe for a potion, get ingredients, make it, force Link and Graham to take the potion, and then everything’s fine again. Simple as that,” he listed, counting on his hands. “Five things overall. Four real steps. This can’t be bad. It’s simple, and fine.”  

He was more trying to convince himself than anything else. It didn’t work.

Guybrush turned towards where he’d come from, then where he’d been. …Best bet is to go back to that house, find what she’s got, and use what I need. Fingers crossed I don’t have to fight an old lady as well as my friends.

The walk back was long, but without any other choice, he knew what he had to do. He arrived at the house alone, and opened the front door, not even bothering to knock this time. The main room was empty, luckily enough, so he turned right to the kitchen. He set up the book, checking the recipe for anything he could make out. 

Ingredients: Two cups Water of Life, one gram of Lion’s Mane, thirty grams of ground activated charcoal, two tablespoons of honey… and some amount of mint, according to the rest of the page.

He scanned the shelves. Most of the items there were unlabeled, but he could at least find some clean-looking water, honey, and a mushroom that looked similar but different from the pinkish one from a half-empty jar. He took the other jar while he was at it, stowing it away in a coat pocket so that he could destroy it later. 

Mash this, put in some of this, boil the water-- Ugh, and put this mushroom in there…

Most of the recipe, at least, was obvious-- Combining things in a pot, boiling the water, mixing it all together-- but the final ingredient left him staring at the page in an attempt to figure it out. He looked at that, then at the rest of the items on the racks. Though he knew when to add it, the ingredients list was too smudged to tell him the amount.

Well… Mint tastes pretty good compared to charcoal and mushrooms… The honey’s probably not enough to make it sweeter… Soooo…

He took the small container of mint, sniffed it, and shook it a bit, eyeballing the amount that fell in. After a bit, he stopped, putting that away. At least the potion smelled better now, even if he had no idea about the taste, and he didn’t even want to try it.

It didn’t take too long to put that into a vial, shoving a cork in to keep it from dripping everywhere. He turned the vial over, looking at the amber liquid inside. 

…Hope this works.

He put the potion into a pocket, holding it tightly nevertheless. As he did so, there was a noise-- someone stirring.

The old woman.

Guybrush snatched the book before she could exit, and sprinted for the door. He didn’t bother dousing the fire that boiled the pot, or even putting away what he’d used. No time for that.

Instead, he only ran for the quarry once more. 

“HEY!” he yelled. “Link! Graham!”

It took a moment for anyone to respond, though the response wasn’t vocal: It was simple and cold, footsteps and a glare.

Link had returned.

“Let’s do this.” Guybrush stretched a bit. “So, Link, how’re you? Anything new? Any less kill-Guybrush-y?”

“Do you even know how to shut up?” He lifted the Master Sword, preparing for a swing.

“And that is a no! Fantastic, things haven’t gotten better.” Guybrush barely stepped back in time to avoid the blade, his back bumping into a tree before he moved to the side. “It’d be so much easier if you’d just take a moment and think about this, there’s a lot of reasons to like me that you usually seem to think of and all. Bit hard for me to do that thinking for you when I’ve got a sword--” Another jump to the side, then “--Being swung at me! It’d really help if you just listened--”

“No one cares what you’re saying, thief.”

The sword came too close to his chest, leaving a long but shallow cut in his skin just above his shirt collar and narrowly missing the end of the scarf, but Guybrush didn’t stop moving. Instead, he grabbed what he could-- whatever thing that was big enough to pick up-- and held it up as a defense. The sword clanged against the rock in his hands, the first thing it hadn’t managed to cut through. With the heavy hit, it bounced off, flying out of Link’s hands.

“There we go, no more sword swinging! Now we can talk like two somewhat more civilized people--”

Link’s fist collided with Guybrush’s face before he could get another word out, sending him stumbling. Guybrush barely got his footing again, and he stepped between Link and the Master Sword. Link’s eyes moved to that, and he tried to duck around him.

Before Link could throw another punch or reach the sword, Guybrush took off the scarf. He dodged to the side, and wrapped the scarf tightly around Link’s midsection as a way to force Link to actually stand close and not turn around. With one hand holding the scarf, the other was free to take out the potion, despite how much Link struggled against his grip. It took a moment to get the cork out, but he finally managed to get the potion in Link’s mouth, tipping the bottle upwards. Once at least some of it had dripped in, Guybrush stepped back, re-corking the bottle. Link glared at him, then coughed, the sound turning into gagging before long.

“What-- Zards, that was terrible! What kind of food--”

“Potion, actually!”

“How did you make it hot and cold at the same time!?” Link gagged, shaking his head. 

“...Might’ve overdone the mint, just a bit. Hi, though. Back in the realm of being a person who isn’t planning to run me through with a sword?”

Link paused, and he looked at Guybrush with confusion in his eyes. “Why would I try to run you through with a sword? What-- what’re you talking about?

“...You don’t remember?” Guybrush asked, and he put away the potion. 

“Remember what?”

The quiet between them was almost deafening. Guybrush let go of the scarf, and Link picked it up, putting it back on around his neck.

“...Guybrush, what happened?”

“We need to go save Graham,” Guybrush said, turning away.

“Are you going to actually talk about it then?”

“Sure,” he lied. “But Graham needs us now. I’ve got the potion to fix this, and I’ve got the book with the recipe.” 

Though Link’s ears lowered with clear worry, he didn’t argue any more than he already had. He knew when to back off, at least-- a brief mercy.

Just have to save Graham. I can deal with this cut and the burns later, if I’ve got any. I just need to make it through a little bit more. 

Even if the sword had come far too close to the scars that Guybrush already had, the others wouldn’t understand-- They didn’t need to understand, or even know about those scars. Not until he was ready. 

“...Any plans?”

“Working on it. So far, here’s my idea: One of us has to be a distraction, and the other one has to give him the potion, whether he likes it or not.”

“Think he’s going to try to kill us?”

“He already did for me.” Guybrush nodded. “Not sure if he’ll recognize that you’re cured, though, so… You’re probably better being the one to give him the potion.” He pulled out the bottle. “I’ll be the distraction.”

Link took the vial, picked up his sword, and pulled down his hat. “Got it. Let’s go.”

Together, they returned to walking through the woods-- past trees and shrubs and assorted brush. Guybrush barely focused on where he was going, just letting his feet carry him. 

He was tired. He’d barely slept, barely eaten, barely rested. He’d been running for what felt like hours. Maybe it had been hours. 

What if it’s too late to save Graham? a voice in the back of his head asked. What if he’s too far gone? What if there’s not enough potion left?

Though Guybrush didn’t mean to dwell on those thoughts, there wasn’t much else to do. 

How am I going to tell Graham anything afterwards, either? Do I tell him what he and Link were saying, or…?

He couldn’t. He could hardly tell people what they said when under the influence of the Pox, and this was no different-- it was easier to let everyone forget. 

…I hope Link forgets too.

The sound of crackling fire snapped him out of his thoughts, and Guybrush stopped in his path to duck behind a tree. Link hid behind another nearby.

Graham still stood at the quarry, facing the rock as he chipped away at it. Some of the mushrooms lingered just under the cracks-- the same ones that Guybrush now had in his pocket.

“...What’s he doing?”

“No clue. I’m betting it has to do with these, though.” He pulled out the mushrooms, holding them at arm’s length. 

“You stole that, didn’t you.” Link sighed. Guybrush shrugged.

“Is it really stealing if I’m keeping it out of the hands of someone who was poisoning people with it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I like to think of it as confiscating them. I’m saving the lives of other people who might come later on.”

“It’s still stealing,” Link said flatly. 

“Okay, but in case you forgot… Pirate.” Guybrush shrugged. “So. I have an excuse.”

“Apparently, you have multiple, since you’re telling me plenty.”

Graham turned their way, picking up his bow and nocking an arrow. His red eyes glanced each way, sliding over their hiding spots without noticing either man. At last, Guybrush took a deep breath, and he sprang into action.

“Hey, Graham! Good to see you, buddy. I met up with Link recently, saw that old lady for a minute. Turns out those mushrooms are actually great, right?”

Graham’s eyes narrowed, glaring at him.

“So I was thinking, why are we actually trying to mine them out of this rock? We could just make more cracks, and then dump water in them to make even more mushrooms. Then we could all have a great time--”

Graham loosed the arrow, narrowly missing Guybrush’s head and landing in a tree behind him. He barely avoided flinching.

“What do you want, you half-wit?”

“I just want to talk. Nothing dangerous. I’m on your side, really, totally.”

“I know better than that.” Graham nocked a second arrow-- a fire arrow this time, based on the design. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

The question broke through Guybrush’s act. “What?” Guybrush asked. “Of course I care--”

“You stole our things when we left.” The arrow flew through the air, striking a tree to the left. Another nocked arrow. “You talk about yourself every time we have a break.” To the right, setting his other direction out aflame. Link slipped out of the woods, towards the quarry. “You’ve caused trouble, and you never fix it yourself, every single time!”

“I’m not that bad-- Besides, you’re my friend!” Guybrush grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right, Graham? You and Link know me, so… You know better than that…”

“Why do you think we’d be friends with you, when you’re nothing but a self-obsessed, self-absorbed--”

Link moved in behind Graham.

“Half-dead, stupid--”

Guybrush could feel how Graham’s eyes bore into him, glaring so much his heart felt cold even as it raced. 

“Greedy, heartless--”

He was pinned against the tree, with the area around him on both sides burning. He clung to Graham’s hat, trying to hold his breath long enough to make it through the smoke. 

“Pox-spreading pirate?!”

Link finally struck, grabbing Graham and forcing the liquid into his throat despite how Graham fought him. The two tussled for a bit, but Link won out, his strength enough to bring Graham down in the quick wrestling match. Guybrush hurried over, trying to hide how his hands shook. It took a moment, but Graham blinked, looking up at them. He coughed roughly, but still looked between the others with his usual dark blue eyes. Guybrush finally managed to breathe.

“...Link? Guybrush?”

“We’re here,” Guybrush said, forcing a little smile. “You okay, Graham?”

“I… I think I’m okay. What happened? Why are we out here? Where--”

“You two ate the wrong mushrooms.” He tossed Graham his hat, and turned away. “It’s over now, at least. And Link’s got the potion that fixed it.”

“Guybrush?” Graham asked, a bit quieter. “If there was some sort of situation, then--”

“I’m fine,” he cut Graham off, his tone much sharper than he intended. “...I’m fine. Promise.”

Link gave him a look. “You said you don’t make promises to friends that you know you can’t keep.”

…Do you guys even think of me as a friend? 

“Then let’s rephrase that.” He leaned against a non-burnt tree, twisting his wedding ring to avoid looking at either friend. “I still don’t want to talk about what happened on my end.”

Graham stood and approached. “But you’re the only one who knows what happened--”

“I know some of it,” Link admitted. Graham paused, turning to him.

“...So… what happened? Can you tell me?”

“We were… Cursed?”

“Ingested the wrong mushrooms, but it’s easier to say cursed, so sure,” Guybrush shrugged.

“Cursed, then. To… Something about that cliff over there? I just woke up a bit before you, and…” Link fidgeted with the end of his scarf. “...You were saying some things you wouldn’t normally say.”

“Huh?” Graham looked at Link, then Guybrush, who quickly averted his gaze. Graham walked towards his friends, and reached a hand out to Guybrush.

He couldn’t help but flinch.

“...Guybrush?”

“I need some space. Just for a while,” he said, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. He didn’t need to look to imagine the hurt in Graham’s eyes, nor the way Link kept his own focused on anything else.

“I understand. But… Please, talk to us?”

That’d just be giving more ammunition if it happens again.

“...sun’s rising,” he said instead, pointing away. “We should go. Find an actual town. We can talk there.”

The others didn't argue, at least. Instead, they let the pirate lead them in a direction he only hoped was correct.