Work Text:
“Link, are you awake?”
A gentle, chiming voice spoke softly from the end of the room. I sat up in my bed to see its speaker.
She’d come back. The pretty blonde who’d said she knew me.
I wished I could say the same about her.
The girl wandered into my hospital room, carrying a plastic grocery bag. She wore a pleasant smile as she approached my bedside.
“I brought you something,” she told me, setting the plastic bag on my lap. “They’re your favorites.”
I reached my hand in the bag and pulled out a package of brightly-colored candies. Gummy worms. Sour. The package featured a cartoonish man with a triangle-shaped nose and buggy eyes. Beedle’s Best brand.
I wordlessly ripped open the package as the blonde girl stared at me with anticipation. My fingers fished a worm out of its plastic cocoon. I popped the candy in my mouth and gave it a chew. It was sour, but not unpleasantly so. The sugary powder on the outside left a gritty feeling on my teeth.
The blonde still stared at me, an anxious hope in her blue eyes. I gave her a shrug. “What?” I wondered aloud.
“Do you like them?” she asked.
I nodded my head yes as I swallowed the worm.
“How do they make you feel?”
“A little thirsty,” I replied, reaching for the water cup on the bedside table. I nervously chewed on the plastic straw as I took a sip.
The girl let out a small, exasperated sigh. “I’d hoped that tasting something familiar would help,” she told me.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” The girl stared past me, her gaze fixed out the window. “The doctor said that familiar things and routines would be the best medicine for your memory.”
Whatever was left of it. I glanced at her, but quickly looked away. My eyes wandered instead to the table as I put my cup away. On its surface, there were several Get Well Soon! cards from people I didn’t know and a few pictures in frames with faces I didn’t recognize.
Well, I guess I did know a couple of faces, after all. One of them was my own. I was a subject in most of the photos, posing alongside the people I couldn’t place.
The only other familiar face was that of the blonde girl who keeps visiting me. I lock my studying glance onto one particular snapshot. It looked like it was taken in a photobooth. The grainy quality suggested a crappy camera, but the smiles on our faces added a kind of vibrance that even the best of cameras couldn’t provide. The girl has her blonde hair down—as opposed to the simple braid she was currently wearing—and her eyes sparkled, despite the camera’s lackluster results. She looked like a princess.
I looked like a doofus with my messy tawny hair and baggy t-shirt, but that was beside the point.
The photo had a title scribbled onto the white void beneath it. Link and Zelda. Summer 2017. There were two hearts drawn beside the names.
Was that her name? Zelda? I knew my name was Link. That’s what everyone keeps calling me, so I guess it’s an easy assumption to make.
“Link?” Zelda’s voice snapped me out of my studious stupor. I gave her a cautious look. “Are you all right?” she asked me.
“I’m fine.” I didn’t sound certain, even to my own ears, but I didn’t care. I watched Zelda’s face drop.
The two of us sat in silence for several minutes.
“I don’t know what you want me to say…” I finally spoke. “I want to remember. I do. I just… don’t know what to remember.”
Zelda gave me a sweet, though uncomfortable smile. “Anything is good, Link. Even small things. Like a smell or a name…”
“Like yours?” I asked. Her face suddenly lit up. “Is it Zelda?”
Hope flickered in her hypnotic blue eyes. “Yes!” a laugh twinkled from her lungs. It was a cheery, bright sound, like wind chimes. “Yes, it is!” She beamed a bright smile.
I found myself smiling, too.
“I know I’m not the Link you hoped I’d still be,” I told her. “But I know he’s still in here somewhere…”
Zelda nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “It’ll just take time to find yourself again.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Head injuries are no joke, and you received quite a mess of one.” Zelda gingerly reached a hand toward my bandaged forehead. I winced a little at her touch and she pulled her hand back.
No… Wait.
I took her hand, placing it on my forehead again.
Stay. Don’t let go.
My breath caught in my throat as she gently moved her hand from my head to my chest.
“Somehow…” my lips were dry. “Somehow I think I still know you,” I told her. “I know your soul… even if I don’t remember your face.”
A tear traced down her cheek. I wiped it away, fighting my own.
“One day…” she swallowed more tears. “One day I hope we can look back on this and laugh instead of cry.”
“I know we will,” I replied.