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Hyrule spent a lot of time sick.
It wasn't a big deal, just a consequence of his pure-blooded Kasitan ancestors being… insular. (Xenophobic, some might call it.) As the Epona's primary medic, and one of the best choices among the crew for an exploratory ground team, he had to know how to manage his own immune system.
And he did! Quite well! He took the appropriate vaccines and antibiotics, and even had a little device in his room that would occasionally spray the diluted oil of a root known to kill some viruses. (He didn't know how much just smelling the oil did, but it cleared his sinuses and otherwise didn't hurt him. It probably helped a little.) Every time he so much as felt a tickle in his throat, he'd be there in the tiny medbay, using his modern and traditional tools to determine what he had and how to combat it. Anything he caught rarely got very bad.
Only Legend, who paid far too much attention to everyone's minute behaviors for it to be healthy, truly noticed every time that Hyrule got sick. And in true Legend fashion, he usually pestered Hyrule into taking extra breaks or drinking extra water.
Which… fair. Hyrule probably didn't do either of those things enough. But neither did Legend! That hypocrite.
Last week, the Epona had chased a Yiga ship out of the atmosphere of a forest moon, and when the Yiga ship had turned on its Subrosian drive to escape, the shockwave sent a plume of pollen, leaves, and all kinds of other organic matter right into the Epona’s HVAC system—which was open to the air at that time because more than one of them had been nostalgic for the smell of a forest.
Morons, Hyrule thought fondly. Wild had gotten this faraway look in his eyes, but not the bad kind, and even Time had stopped to breathe for a moment.
“Open the intake,” Twilight had suggested when they landed, and Four just shrugged and did as asked.
It did smell nice. Alive. Different. But that blast of pollen and everything made more than just Hyrule sick. When they closed the intake, a minor alarm beeped, letting them know that debris was possibly blocking the air seal. The situation wasn't yet dire, but it wasn't safe to fly for long without taking the time to clean the seals, especially not out in open space.
“Sky, can you get us to NHCCS quickly?” Time asked, even his eyes red and watering. It was only going to get worse, Hyrule thought, and the gods only knew how fast.
“Through the Depths?” Sky asked with disbelief from his spot in the pilot's chair. “With the intake seal compromised?” He generally had a better time than Hyrule with contaminants, seeing as the Kingdom’s medical programs for Hylians was rather robust, but he had come from a hundred years ago and they didn't have vaccines for everything. He rubbed at his eye, which had already begun to swell.
Feces, Hyrule thought, wrinkling his nose and lingering in the bridge instead of beelining to the medbay, in order to catch their next plan. Pollen. Insects. Alien bacteria. Everywhere in here, great.
“It’s the fastest way, and I think we need help,” Time answered.
Sky took a deep breath, then set his hands on the controls. “All right. Wind, come on.” He flicked a switch as Wind, eyes characteristically blurred from the clear set of eyelids he’d closed, strapped himself into the second pilot’s chair. Sky leaned in and pressed a button. His voice sounded worse by the moment. “Attention, all crew to bridge. Depths jump in two minutes. Intended destination: New Hyrule Communications Control Station.”
Sky wasn't always so formal. Hyrule thought that perhaps Sky feared for the worst, so he was making a record. Prudent.
As small as the Epona was, her entire crew could sit on the bridge. Four came up from the engine room at sixty seconds to strap in too, something he didn't always do since the engineer’s bay had a secure seat. From his angle near one of the computers, Hyrule looked everyone over—every single one of them appeared to be some kind of sick. Great.
Hyrule sniffled and gave a sidelong glance at Four. “You, too?”
“It gummed some stuff up,” Four grumbled, using his fingernail to pick at the seams around his face. “I'm fine.”
“Thirty seconds,” Sky reminded everyone.
“Should we, uh, hold our breath?” Twilight asked.
Warriors made a face. “It certainly wouldn't hurt.”
“Ten. Nine. Eight,” Sky counted.
The anticipation was the worst, Hyrule had found. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax inside his seat’s restraints. He breathed—and coughed as his throat tickled. His head hurt already, ugh.
Someone sneezed.
“Seven, six, five, four,” Sky said, a growing crackle in his voice. He stopped to clear his throat. “Three, two, one.”
Something clicked.
The Depths drive never seemed to affect Hyrule quite as badly as everyone else. He felt the rumble; he felt the uncomfortable stretch. He felt the way that the plates beneath his skin wanted to separate but, despite the brief pain, he was all right. It upset his stomach when everything went still, and he looked up for just a moment to see an eerie yellow light outside the ship in the living darkness of the Depths. Motes of dust—he assumed it was dust—floated beyond the windows, and Hyrule just hoped none of them got into the systems.
And then they were off again, neon colors of dubious reality assaulting his senses. He thought he heard someone’s bitten-off curse, but the sound ripped away from his ears before he could fully process it.
When the world settled again, Hyrule’s stomach still hadn't. He took a deep breath, feeling the beginnings of congestion, and freed himself from his chair’s belts to curl up a little and pull his knees closer. He stayed still while everyone else got up to move—the computers hadn't locked down this time, so everything still worked, including the door that Legend used to get off the bridge as fast as he could.
Poor guy must have been more nauseous than Hyrule.
Sky shook it off fairly quickly, and Hyrule could see the growing light of the Hylian sun, and more specifically, NHCCS, rising in front of them.
“This is the Kingdom’s Epona, requesting urgent permission to dock,” Sky said into the receiver.
“What—where did you come from?” came the answer, sound crystal-clear from the nearby station. “There was no approach—”
Time leaned over in his chair to interrupt. “Code Z1198. Is Impa Tolli nearby?”
There was a brief scuffle, and then—
“This is Impa Dara, Tolli isn't here today. Permission to dock granted, please use bay number… L-61. Is everything all right? That’s the emergency code.”
Hyrule half-listened as Time explained the situation, stuck-open intakes and contaminants and all. In light of the new information, Dara directed them to a different bay, and through a definitely swelling eye, Sky guided the Epona into the right spot. They discussed a short quarantine and what they needed to restock.
As the Epona’s medic, Hyrule should probably have a say in some of that. He knew the crew’s needs at a different level than Time did. He climbed to his feet and headed over.
“We're nearly out of sanitizing solution,” he said, “and I get the feeling that we’re going to need a lot of it soon. We use the Sunrise Spray, from the Candle company.”
“I'll mark that down,” Dara said. “What else?”
Hyrule hashed out the details, growing steadily more nauseous. He meant to keep an eye on the others, judge their reactions, but that was becoming impossible. He could barely speak.
Time eventually cut him off. “Go. You can't do anything until you feel better.”
Hyrule made a face.
Impa Dara chimed in. “We are prepping the quarantine quarters as we speak. Seal off any small or private areas if you can, and stick to the bridge until you dock. We’ll provide everything you need for a few days until the ship is declared clean.”
“Thanks,” Hyrule managed, then turned away quickly, throat burning.
It took four days. There were two unknown viruses aboard the ship, but they closely resembled known ones, so the onboard medical staff of NHCCS didn't need much time to develop targeted antiviral solutions, essentially eliminating the problem.
At four days, most of the Epona’s crew were on their way to being better, and they were soon allowed to return to their ship. Time and Wild recovered entirely after a day or two, which meant they and Four (who just had to step into one of those vibration baths to loosen up all the dirt in him) spent the entire brief quarantine period helping out the others and catching up on chores around the Epona.
Hyrule, for one, was grateful. He'd been the sickest of them all for a little while, but although he remained sniffly and achy for more than just those four days, he'd been up and organizing medication with the medical staff at a pace he deemed satisfactory.
Now, even Sky had risen from his bed to help Twilight unscrew some of the pipes from the wall to mist everything with their new, special, antiviral cleaner. Hyrule ducked past them with a covered bowl in his hands, the heat starting to leak through the ceramic.
“Ledge feeling better yet?” Sky asked, poking his head down from behind one of the dangling ceiling covers.
Hyrule looked up and shrugged. “Kind of. We think he got something a bit different from everyone else.”
“Well, let him know that everyone's here for him,” Sky said, and Twilight nodded emphatically—his voice hadn't quite returned, yet.
“I will.” Hyrule gave them a smile, then moved past them to exit the Epona from the small door. He strode across the empty dock floor, all lit green by the force field separating them from space, and used a code to get into the attached barracks, which weren't in strict quarantine anymore. But Legend had picked one of the private rooms and as of yet, had refused to leave.
Hyrule remained the only one that Legend would let into the room, too. The others found it strange, considering that the odd strain of disease that Legend had contracted was no doubt dangerous to Hyrule specifically, but Hyrule wasn't worried.
He knocked at Legend’s door. “It's me.”
A moment passed, and Hyrule’s blood pressure spiked a bit. But the door slid open a few inches, allowing Hyrule to squeeze inside with the bowl.
Legend kept the lights dim, but Hyrule's eyes adjusted quickly. He'd been told his eyes reflected a bit too much light in the darkness. Legend never seemed unnerved, though, and especially not now, when he was definitely the most unnerving thing in the room: hair so pale it was translucent, eyes so red the color nearly filled the whites. The worst part, though, was how his left hand had melted. And his left foot.
Whatever strain of whatever disease Legend had contracted, it was causing him discomfort and pain as it leveraged his Sheikah heritage and wore away at his extremities. The flesh was still there, just… all but liquified into a wiggly mass of bones and muscle, refusing to make any coherent shapes. Legend hadn't said as much, but he acted as if it hurt—and, more damning, he hadn't yet asked to go back to the Epona.
The crew at large still didn't know about his Sheikah heritage, and Hyrule suspected that Legend was a bit nervous about telling them, since it wasn't just about his doppelganger abilities. It would also be about who the Sheikah were, since even Hyrule hadn't known what that meant until Warriors told him: the Sheikah were spies. Agents of the Kingdom. Controlled by their elders, the Impas who also had authority in the military, and ultimately directed by the Hylian King.
Several people on the Epona might have a problem with that. Hyrule couldn't blame them, but neither could he blame Legend being nervous about it.
Still, the crew knew something was up. Time had rescued Legend from that disastrous solo mission and carried him back into the ship unconscious, pale, and very visibly different than the way he usually presented himself. Hyrule thought he'd overheard Warriors telling Twilight at least a bit about what it meant. The others had to suspect something.
But for now, Legend remained close-lipped, and Hyrule respected his choice. He said nothing, just continued to do his best to care for Legend and the sickness he suffered, though he knew barely anything about Sheikah biology and how to help.
Also, the melted foot made it a bit difficult for Legend to get around. So he stayed in here, doing what he could with the computers at a distance.
“Morning,” Hyrule said, pulling a small tabletop out of the wall to set the bowl down. “Any difference?”
Legend sighed. “No. Just worse. You didn't have to bring me food.”
“Well, were you going to leave your room and get it yourself?” Hyrule smiled at Legend’s glare.
“I just don't want to inconvenience you.”
“I'm not inconvenienced. This is what I'm here for.” Hyrule pulled a pouch out of his belt and unzipped it—his portable disease lab. “Besides, I think I've almost isolated it. I'm close. Can I…”
Legend sat up with another sigh and pulled the top off of the bowl. He let Hyrule take a few more samples of saliva and sweat and blood, and then Hyrule retreated to the desk to work while Legend ate.
“Everyone else is doing okay?” Legend asked.
“Mhm, Sky got up this morning. Twilight’s keeping an eye on him.”
“We're just cleaning up now?”
“Pretty much. I'm just worried that—”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Ledge? It's Wars. Can we talk?”
Legend startled enough that he threw a dumpling across the room, and Hyrule snorted at him. He picked up the dumpling as he passed to the door.
“Hold on,” Legend hissed. “What are you doing?”
Hyrule leveled a look at Legend, fingers hovering over the buttons that would open the door. “He already knows.”
“About me, sure, but—”
“I told him you're still sick and how,” Hyrule said. “He probably just wants to check up on you.”
The back of Legend’s head hit the wall. “Fine. Let him in.”
Hyrule did as requested, sliding his finger across one of the dials. Cool light spilled into the room from outside, and Warriors had to duck a few inches to get inside without bumping his head. Rather conspicuously, he had tucked away his datapad and even his notebook, leaving his hands empty.
“Legend?” he said, and Hyrule hurried to close the door behind him.
Warriors stopped mid-step, blinking, and Hyrule had to admit that Legend’s appearance really did merit the worry. “Are you… okay?”
“Fine,” Legend muttered, brandishing a spoon with one hand. He muffled a cough into his elbow, which didn’t really give much credibility to that particular assertation.
“I think it’s roughly the same thing Sky had,” Hyrule said, sitting back down at the desk to continue the little bit of work he could do without everything in the medbay. “Which means you probably won’t get it. But it is, obviously, affecting Legend a bit differently.”
“Yeah, clearly.” Warriors sat on the edge of the bed. “Other than… all that… how are you feeling?”
Legend narrowed his eyes. “I said, I’m fine.”
“Okay, as the Epona’s first officer to a member of her crew, how are you feeling?”
“Really…?” Legend complained. He set his spoon down to rub at his head. “Sick. I feel like I have a cold, okay? A cold that's gumming me up enough that trying to shift anything around hurts.”
“Have you ever been sick like this before?”
Hyrule nodded his approval—those were all questions he'd asked Legend himself when he could. Warriors was on the right track.
“Once, when I was a kid. I was afraid I'd lost my abilities, though, so I didn't tell anyone.”
Warriors paused. “You didn't… tell anyone you were sick?”
“Well, not as sick as I was.” Legend rolled his eyes. “They would've freaked out. Anyway, I'll get over it, I'm already feeling better.”
“Is that true?” Warriors asked Hyrule, who glanced over.
He shrugged. “Most of his observable symptoms have not gotten worse, at least. We might have hit the peak already.”
Warriors’s finger tapped on his leg as he thought. Legend picked up the spoon again—it wasn't in his dominant hand, so he fumbled a moment before getting more rice on it.
“Okay,” Warriors said eventually. “We're on NHCCS. We have resources. You don't have to just ride this out, and I'm a bit worried. We can get you to an actual hospital, either up here or down on-planet.”
Legend’s head shot up. “No way.”
“Why not?” Warriors asked.
“I don't want to go to a hospital.”
Warriors made a face. “We're inside NHCCS. If there isn't already a Sheikah doctor here, they can have one here within a day.”
“That’s not—” Legend scowled, then looked down. “Can we just wait and see if I get over it on my own?”
“Hyrule. Is he going to?” Warriors sounded uncharacteristically solemn.
Hyrule looked up, a bit startled. “Oh, um. I don't know if I can say for sure…” He caught Legend’s eye behind Warriors's back, and blinked at the way that Legend nodded vigorously. “Chances are, uh, good? It hasn't gotten worse so far, so…”
Suspicious, Warriors turned his head.
Legend ducked his, going back to studiously eating.
“Uh huh.” Warriors did not sound convinced. “Well, I'll leave you two be. Let me know if I can do anything for you. And Ledge?”
He looked up, wary.
“You do have to get out of here at some point.”
Legend winced. “I know. Either I'll feel better soon, or…”
Several possibilities hung in the air. Hyrule waited a heartbeat, then stood again to make sure the door closed after Warriors left.
“He didn't believe you,” Legend lamented, covering his eyes with his hand. “He's going to ask me to go again.”
“What do you have against the hospital? It could help,” Hyrule asked quietly. He sat back down, but instead of going back to his desk, he turned to pull his knees up to his chest and hook his heels on the edge of the chair.
He couldn't blame Legend for not liking hospitals. There was a certain horror in knowing that the people around you knew your body better than you did, but he had always seemed to do just fine in the medbay with Hyrule. What he could remember of being in them as a patient himself was short and terrifying, but the real Kingdom ones he'd visited in getting his certification here weren't so bad at all.
Legend sighed. “I don't have anything against it. We can just deal with it here, you know?”
“I'm… not so sure we can, Legend,” Hyrule said as carefully as he could. “I'd really like the supervision of someone who knows more about how your body works. You're getting worse, not better.”
“I can respect that.” Legend took a last bite of the food Hyrule had brought, almost violent about it. “But you know enough.”
Hyrule sat up correctly and stood. “All right, I won't push. I have a few things to get back to, but I'll be back for dinner.”
“Let me know what I can help with,” Legend said, settling back into the bed with a petulant kind of frown. “Beyond just reviewing more data.”
He felt useless, didn't he? Hyrule sent him a thin smile before leaving. “I will.”
“—he just insisted that I could take care of it,” Hyrule said, somewhat reluctantly.
Time didn't let much show on his face, but he'd asked Hyrule about Legend’s condition early the next day, likely at Warriors's suggestion. Time had inquired as to the possibility and necessity of getting Legend to a doctor, or a hospital. He had the same worries as Hyrule did, and had likely come to the same conclusion.
And, Hyrule disliked thinking about it, but Time had spent time with the Sheikah himself. If there was any reason that Legend shouldn't go to a hospital, or any other specifics, then Time would know.
If there was any reason that Legend would avoid a hospital of his own free will, then Time would likely know that, too.
“And can you?” Time asked Hyrule, turning from the screen on the bridge and gesturing for Hyrule to follow him as he left. “Take care of it on your own, on the ship?”
Hyrule pressed his lips together. “It seems foolish to not take advantage of any specialized doctors we may have available here. We're orbiting New Hyrule.”
Time didn't walk quickly, but he did head out the cargo hold and down toward Legend’s room. “What if you knew that it would cause him some distress? Would you still insist?”
That gave Hyrule a moment, and he let himself actually think about what these hints might mean. Legend didn’t want to go to a hospital for some reason that wasn't cost or inaccessibility. Time implied that Legend would go with some sort of specific request or leverage, but wouldn't have a good time there. Legend had some sort of bad experience with hospitals, then. Especially since he'd admitted to hiding a grim illness from the adults around him before.
Hyrule… stopped himself before he started thinking too hard about Time’s contingency files and what he'd heard the Sheikah could and would do. Time would probably also consider a hospital a last resort, too, but he seemed to trust Hyrule's judgement on this.
“I…” Hyrule began, turning back to the situation at hand. “I've never seen these symptoms before, and I know hardly anything about Sheikah biology. I want to believe it will be all right without intervention, but I have some doubts. Legend can't afford for me to be wrong.”
“So you would insist?” Time clarified, stopping outside the barracks door.
Hyrule nodded, folding his arms in anxiety. He felt like a child telling his teacher that another student had brought a forbidden game to class, but with none of the childish satisfaction.
Time entered the dim barracks and went right for Legend’s door. He knocked. “Legend?”
Only a few seconds passed before the door opened, just wide enough to admit Time, Hyrule close behind. He didn't have to come in, he was sure, but he wouldn't leave Legend alone for this. The room looked as it had just a few short hours ago: dim, datapad screens up around Legend sitting up in bed, his melted left arm in clear view. His hair was translucent and silvery rather than pink, the most damning evidence of him truly not feeling well.
Legend’s red eyes flicked to Hyrule, then back to Time. He closed the screens around him, putting him back into deep shadow. “Captain,” he said, a note of hesitance in his voice, masked by confidence.
Interactions akin to this one had played out between these two several times where Hyrule could observe: Legend would act a bit shifty, a bit formal, and then Time would say or do something to break the tension, and Legend would relax. Something about the song and dance reminded Hyrule of his first few weeks with the Fairy Corps, unsure of what authority he had to answer to or what it meant.
Time did not break the tension today. “I asked our medic if you needed to be seen by an expert.” He didn't use Hyrule's name. “He presented his evidence, and I have determined that I will be requesting that Impa Tolli transfer you to the medical station here on NHCCS.”
Legend kept his eyes on Time, shoulders tight. “Yes, sir.”
Hyrule blinked. That was… not as much fight as he had expected. Legend tended to push back, even against Time, when he thought that a decision was wrong. He would argue, present his information. He tended to accept Time’s decisions in the end, but not… not so easily. So quickly. So dully.
Time inhaled, mouth open, as if to say something else, but hesitated. Instead, he said, “I'll let you know the plan.”
And then he turned and slid the door open, exiting without another word.
Hyrule glanced back, but closed the door behind him to approach Legend. He held out his hand, and Legend obediently offered his right wrist, where he wore a monitor bracelet connected to the display that Hyrule tapped above his bed. No unexpected changes since last he checked, at least.
“It’s getting worse,” Hyrule said, letting Legend take his wrist back. He touched Legend’s left elbow and measured the distance to from that to the uncontrolled flesh with his hand. The effect continued to crawl up Legend’s arm at a rate of about two fingers’ width per day.
“I know,” Legend answered.
He sounded so flat that Hyrule double-checked his heart rate on the display. “I didn't ask, you know. He did.”
“You recommended what you thought was best.”
“I did. Because I care about you and I want you to feel better. Idiot.” Hyrule sighed.
“I know.” Legend’s eyes stared at the wall.
Hyrule huffed, but backed off. “I think dinner is just about ready. I'll be back soon.”
“All right.”
With one last worried look back at Legend, Hyrule shook his head and left.
Legend’s illness didn't magically become better overnight. Unfortunately.
It didn't get much worse, Hyrule thought, reviewing the numbers once more, but it didn't get better, either. He had no excuses to ask Time to rescind the decision. Well, no true excuses, and Hyrule would never lie about a patient, particularly not if it threatened their wellbeing. The NHCCS’s medical division wasn't far away. Legend would be all right, one way or the other.
He'd stopped arguing quite as hard about… well, everything. Hyrule didn't know if that was due to increased pain or whatever Time had pulled with that power play. Maybe both.
Still, it was a bit relieving to tell Legend to sit up and have it actually happen. Relieving and worrying.
Hyrule closed the last buckle on the boot that now covered Legend’s mess of a left leg. He might be able to walk on it, with the cast-like support, but Hyrule’s intention had been to hide it. Even though Legend hadn't said much since yesterday, Hyrule knew that he'd prefer to keep his weaknesses hidden.
“There,” Hyrule said, standing. He grabbed the sling from the chair next and adjusted the straps. “Arm.”
Legend lifted his left elbow without a word. The forearm and hand dangling off of it didn’t so much as twitch.
Carefully, definitely not cringing at the odd texture, Hyrule strapped the sling on over the liquid skin and closed it tightly to keep everything contained. He slipped the strap up over Legend’s head and adjusted the length—he’d picked the totally manual sling and boot so Legend could take them off at any time, rather than using one of the fancy ones with temperature and pressure regulation. Those tended to lock.
“Do you want to transfer on your own, or would you like my help?” Hyrule asked next.
“I can do it,” Legend grumbled, which Hyrule was honestly glad to hear. He held the back of the chair to keep it steady despite the brakes—Legend did stumble with the booted left foot, but he made it. He sighed and ran his hand down his face.
Hyrule slung his bag over his shoulder. “Your hair?”
He watched as a single shock of the usual pink traveled from somewhere over Legend’s right ear to the end. It faded, and Legend just grunted.
“Hurts.”
Hyrule knew how much Legend preferred his pink hair. If the simple act of turning his hair colors hurt him so much, something he kept up every day all day usually, then something really was wrong.
Hyrule chewed on his lip as he loosened the simple chair’s brakes and headed out into the barracks. Since this chair was just meant for short transportion, it didn't need anything fancy like full-time chairs had, so Hyrule had once again chosen something as manual as possible. A simple structure, only a few anti-gravity nodes to lift the weight, it didn't even have some of the more usual features that required connecting to a datapad. It didn't have an adaptation to propel it one-handed, which meant that Legend needed Hyrule to accompany him, but it also couldn't be hacked or controlled remotely.
Time joined them just outside the Epona, silent and done up in a uniform with sharp edges. They spoke as was necessary, but the farther from safety they traveled, the smaller Legend tried to become, holding his shoulders in and keeping his head down. The eerie green light of the force field behind them didn't help matters.
Wind waited at the door of the dock, a datapad in his hand as he reviewed a pallet about to be loaded into the Epona. It smelled like cleaning supplies.
“Woah, Legend,” Wind said, his face lit up from beneath. “What happened to your hair?”
Legend kept his eyes tucked into his hand, elbow balanced on the arm of the chair. “Dye washed out.”
“That fast, huh?” Wind frowned, thinking, but shrugged. “Dock airlock’s ready when you are.”
Time checked something on his own communications device. “They're waiting for us.”
“See you later, then,” Wind said. He pressed a button, and the small dock doors slid open.
Cool light spilled inside, and Legend hid even deeper, his hair falling over his eyes. Hyrule winced at the change, but blinked it away quickly.
He followed Time through the station proper, unfamiliar with the layout on this side of it. The New Hyrule Command Center Station served as the main interplanetary port for New Hyrule. Most ships docked here before taking a shuttle down to the planet, but the station was huge, and some people didn't need to go down to the planet’s surface at all during a stop. Part of the station was dedicated to shops and restaurants and lounges for travelers and transients, a regular little town, but this side was more administrative, with offices and storage and the like.
Time knew where to go. He led Hyrule and Legend right to a small clinic, where a tall and slim Hylian woman waited in the empty lobby with two Kingdom-crested guards.
Not Hylian, Hyrule reminded himself, looking at the woman. As far as most people knew, the people from New Hyrule with light hair and red eyes were a more insular ethnic group. But as he'd learned, they were a different kind of person altogether. Sheikah.
The glass door of the clinic swung shut behind them, closing out the noise of the station.
The woman looked down her nose at them. A painted or perhaps tattooed red eye on her forehead dripped down her nose like a tear. She wore a deep blue poncho with crests and patches declaring her rank, along with some sort of belted tunic beneath. Hyrule didn't want to think about what kinds of weapons that poncho could very well be hiding.
“Impa Tolli,” Time said stiffly, with a small bow and hand gesture.
“Captain,” she returned, then waited for an awkward empty second in which she stared at Legend.
Legend made no move to greet her, if that was what she expected. If possible, he looked even more tense.
“Did you drug him?” she finally asked. Her eyes flicked up to Hyrule, who found himself on the verge of scowling.
“I administered a light sedative two days ago, in accordance with the treatment plan I forwarded,” Hyrule responded shortly.
“Hm. Well. We’ll take it from here.” Impa Tolli gestured, and one of the guards moved forward to take Legend’s chair from Hyrule's hold.
Hyrule didn't let go, setting his jaw when he noticed Legend’s fingers curling into his skin, a telltale indicator that despite his surliness today, Legend didn't want to be left alone with these people. “I'll follow you.”
Impa Tolli blinked, as if she couldn't believe Hyrule wasn't just listening to her. “You are not permitted to proceed any farther into this clinic.”
“I am his primary physician,” Hyrule argued. “I would like to watch how he's treated and hear any conclusions firsthand, so we can get back to our ship and out of your hair sooner rather than later.”
“You can wait out here, and we will have a comprehensive report written up for you.”
“I insist,” Hyrule said, wrapping his fingers even more tightly around the chair’s ergonomic handles. Ergonomic for a human, anyway. His fingers were a tad too long for it to be the most comfortable grip. Still, he wouldn't let go.
Impa Tolli scowled. “I have no desire for this to turn into an altercation.” She turned to Time. “Captain. Remove your charge.”
Hyrule turned to Time, too, lips pressed together and fingernails biting into his palms. If Time ordered it, as his Captain, then Hyrule would let go and be upset about it. A heavy weight in his gut, and the memories of Time’s medical records written in Sheikah, told him that Time would capitulate. Time was easily the most powerful person in this station, but the Kingdom—and Sheikah like this Impa in particular—had put considerable effort into making him controllable.
“Captain,” Hyrule bit out, trying to sound somewhat respectful so Time would know he'd listen.
Time’s blank eyes and blank face revealed nothing, but his shoulders moved in a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth—
“Time, please,” ripped out of Legend’s throat, quiet and gravelly. His posture sank, as if he hadn't meant to say it. If possible, his hair went even whiter.
Impa Tolli’s eyes snapped to Legend.
“Honored Impa,” Time interrupted, firm. He steamrolled ahead before Impa Tolli could get a word in edgewise. “My medic is fully aware of everything that Link is capable of.”
Hyrule’s mind went briefly white as he had to remember that Legend’s name was Link, too, and that's how this woman would know him. And, truly, he was surprised that Time would defend him like this to an Impa, of all people.
Time kept going. “We have endured life-or-death situations in which that knowledge was medically necessary to disclose. We took reasonable measures to prevent it from being necessary, but I'm sure you're aware that we, our ship and our crew, have performed several extremely sensitive functions for the Kingdom and for Kakariko.”
Impa Tolli’s nostrils flared, and her mouth pinched.
Would she even listen? Hyrule raised his chin and tried not to think of all the things she could legally do to him if she decided it was necessary, Epona or no. Perhaps he should back down before his blood was at risk of being spilled…
“Well,” she said after a tense moment. “If it was medically necessary, how could I fault you that? Still, we hardly need an observer.”
“It will only help us to know how best to treat him in the future,” Hyrule said flatly. “You can count on my discretion as a ship’s medic and former member of the Fairy Corps.”
Impa Tolli’s lip twitched, and her hard eyes bore into Hyrule's. “See that it remains only medically necessary. Come.” She spun on her heel, waved her hand over a sensor, and led the way into the clinic itself. The guards lingered, presumably to follow the entire party.
Hyrule let out one breath and closed his eyes for one heartbeat before pushing Legend’s chair forward.
Time didn't move.
“Captain?” Hyrule glanced backward before clearing the unlocked doors.
“One observer,” Time said. He folded his arms, perhaps to hide worried hands. “Contact me if you have any problems.”
“I… all right.” Hyrule had pushed enough today. He didn't like this, but he thought he could trust himself enough to push for proper treatment. His experience in the Fairy Corps would help, as would his new understanding that while the Sheikah would trade Legend's health for their secrets, they wouldn't trade his life. He could use that if he needed to—sparingly.
The clinic wasn't anything special. There was nothing unusual, except for the low lights. Hyrule helped move Legend into a bed and stayed respectfully out of the way as a pair of clearly Sheikah doctors came in to start initial testing. He was relieved to see a copy of the records he'd sent to them pulled up on a screen on the wall.
The doctors and the Impa argued for a moment in their language, which was actually the first time Hyrule had heard it truly spoken—at least, he assumed it was Sheikah. Legend had read a few things aloud to him before, but it wasn't the same as hearing a conversation. The language made absolutely no sense to Hyrule, who had only learned Hylian with the Fairy Corps, due to the ubiquity of the language. He didn't understand any of it, except for inferences he could make based on the doctors’ gestures and intonation.
One of them turned and gestured Hyrule forward as the Impa fell back, so Hyrule joined them at Legend’s bedside.
In accented but perfectly intelligible Hylian, the doctors engaged in conversation with Hyrule and explained what they were doing and what they were looking for. Hyrule told them what he'd been doing the last few days, what treatments he'd tried and what readings he'd taken. In contrast to the Impa in the room, who sat in the corner to give out the occasional disapproving look, the Sheikah doctors were forthcoming and very helpful.
Hyrule learned a lot in a few short hours. He learned that all Sheikah, not just the doppelgangers, handled some common viruses differently than Hylians and humans. He learned that Sheikah tanned easily in the sun, tended to prefer dimmer lights, and were as different from Hylians as the more familiar Gerudo. He didn't learn anything about Sheikah enclaves or traditions, though, despite gently poking for them in conversation.
(Hyrule also noted a few moments where Legend would shy away from the doctors’ hands, or glance at him for reassurance. Only a few times did Impa or a doctor need to snap a bit at Legend in their language, keeping the specific threats from Hyrule’s understanding—but they were threats.)
Working together, he and the Sheikah doctors did determine the cause of Legend’s unusual reaction: a remnant of Yigaeye in his system, inert until the virus he'd picked up interacted with it. The more patient doctor showed Hyrule the formula for the cleansing solution they'd developed as a countermeasure against Yigaeye, and mentioned that they wanted to turn it into a vaccine of a sort, to prevent Yigaeye from working at all. Hyrule had to admit that he wanted that. He managed to steal a snapshot of the formula with his datapad, which hopefully would let him recreate it on the Epona.
The more brusque doctor, his white hair buzzed short, gave Legend a measure of the concoction via syringe, then pulled a shoebox-sized, silvery device from a padded case and set it on a table hovering over Legend’s bed. He stuck small wires to various places on Legend’s skin, something with which Legend was clearly familiar. And he seemed more comfortable with this treatment, too, judging by the line between his eyebrows lightening.
“And what's this?” Hyrule asked, watching the doctor on the other side turn up a dial on the device.
“It sends minor electrical currents through the body,” the patient doctor explained, pointing out the lines of wires. “Doppelganger cells don't often self-mutilate or deconstruct, even with Yigaeye; they just loosen and slow. The specific currents this uses helps to tighten their cells and reactivate them, so they turn back into what they're supposed to be.”
“I'm assuming this is standard procedure for something like Yigaeye?” Hyrule asked, leaning over to watch the slight but visible pulses running through Legend’s melted hand.
“It's standard for any doppelganger doing almost anything, especially in training. It's common for them to push transformations too far and be unable to return to their default state, so this helps them get back to that.”
“Does it hurt?” Hyrule noticed Legend’s wince.
The brusque doctor answered first. “Of course not.” He sounded almost amused.
Hyrule glanced up, but then looked down at Legend again. “Are you hurting?”
“Not much,” Legend muttered, eyes only half-open. “Just sore.”
Hyrule nodded. “Say something if that changes.”
The patient doctor picked up Legend’s right hand—without asking first, Hyrule noticed—and began poking and prodding at the fingers. “Change color for me,” he instructed.
Legend’s hand turned blue slowly, like clouds moving across the sky on a windy day, then dark brown speckled with red. While he directed it, Legend watched his hand, but kept his face very still. Hyrule guessed that it still hurt a little, but Legend likely had no desire to admit that to these people. So they both kept quiet.
“Now fat content, but don't cut off your circulation,” the doctor demanded.
Once again, Legend complied. Hyrule thought about jumping in, but he knew he would likely do more harm than good. He didn't know what to test, or why, and he didn't want to make anybody here upset with him. He felt like any misstep on his part might get him kicked out.
“Any soreness?”
“A little. Mostly on the left,” Legend replied, speaking quietly. Hyrule leaned over to get a better look at his foot—making sure to send Legend a reassuring smile—and was relieved to see it headed toward foot-shaped once again.
“Increasing voltage for a few seconds,” the brusque doctor said, and Hyrule watched as the foot-shaped foot further solidified, bone and tendon structures beneath straightening and firming before skin and muscle wrapped around them. It was fascinating, truly, if a bit unnerving, and Legend did seem to be in less pain.
“Any chance I could get one of those?” Hyrule asked, nodding to the silvery device making the current.
The nicer doctor laughed. “No.” That was all he said, so Hyrule let it go, whatever he thought.
Maybe Wind or Four could rig up something similar later.
With the cleansing solution doing its job, and Legend looking far less miserable, the Sheikah doctors turned off the electric device and waited for Legend to dissolve again—but he didn't, and he gave Hyrule an expression that wasn't quite a smile, but definitely wasn't another wince, so Hyrule stood back as everything wrapped up. The doctors coiled up the wires, checked the numbers on the screen again, and gave what Hyrule assumed was a report to Impa Tolli in the corner.
Hyrule did step in, however, to help Legend climb off the bed and put on his shoes and jacket. Although Legend now had two functional legs again, he still moved like the left one pained him. Hyrule muttered a question about the chair or crutches, but Legend shook his head. He stood on his own just fine, though, and after the Sheikah doctors left with a last word or two, Hyrule busied himself picking up and straightening while Impa Tolli talked to Legend.
Well. “Talked.” Her words sounded sharp, and Hyrule couldn't help but notice Legend’s very straight posture. Whatever correction she gave, he took, but he did talk back, just a little. He was still Legend, after all.
“Hyrule,” Legend said, and Hyrule jumped up to follow him out the door, first aid bag over his shoulder once again.
Impa Tolli watched them all the way out.
Time hadn't lingered alone in the clinic lobby, which Hyrule couldn't blame him for, but he had sent a message to Hyrule’s datapad saying that the Epona would be ready for departure in a few hours, pending whatever time Legend needed. Hyrule replied quickly, typing as they walked.
Once Legend had guided them through a few turns through the station—walking purposefully even if Hyrule was mostly sure he was picking a direction at random—he slowed, shoulders sagging.
Hyrule put away his datapad and caught up to keep pace. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Legend said. The mole on his jawline had disappeared, but the dark circles beneath his eyes had not. “Practically normal.”
“Practically,” Hyrule echoed. He rolled his eyes. “I know they helped, but I'm still going to ask you to rest for a little while when we get back on the ship.”
“I don't think… I'll complain about that too much.”
With the help of a posted map on the wall, they made it back to the dock, the Epona in all her newly scrubbed glory shining in the hangar. Four stood outside, hands on his hips while he glared at a poor pair of mechanics with rolls of wires over their shoulders, but he turned and smiled when he saw Legend and Hyrule. The berated mechanics scuttled off while he was distracted.
“You're back sooner than we expected,” he said. “I've let the bridge know. I think we're almost ready to set out, if everything's okay…?”
Legend waved a hand. “Everything's fine.”
“And that's why you haven't yet colored your hair back,” Four said.
Legend went red and grumbled something about dye, fingers curling as if he had to physically stop himself from running them through his whitened hair. Four caught Hyrule’s eye, but Hyrule gave a short shake of his head and the smallest eye roll he could muster.
“But what do I know about hair dye,” Four said lightly. “Wild says that Time has been pacing the ship since he returned, he’ll be happy to know you're alive.” He gestured, and the cargo ramp hissed to lower down and admit access.
Legend hesitated while Four went around to the other side of the Epona, and Hyrule paused with him.
“What is it?”
“Maybe,” Legend muttered, “maybe while we're here, I should stop at a store and get a box of dye. I need an excuse to make it not white.”
Hyrule looped his elbow through Legend’s and took a step forward. Legend went, so they continued up the ramp. “I'll send someone for some later.”
Legend sighed and let Hyrule tug him in. Boxes stood in half-organized disarray in here, some opened and others still neatly taped and labeled and secured in place, as if waiting for takeoff.
Time met them in the cargo hold, watching them walk. “You're back sooner than I expected. Whatever it was, it's gone now?”
“Yes, sir,” Legend said with a bit of a snap before Hyrule could answer.
“It was some Yigaeye residue,” Hyrule added, frowning at Legend. “They're working on an antidote.”
Legend continued. “It will not further impact the performance of my duties, sir.”
“Glad to hear it.” Time shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms like a fidget. “Legend. I'm—”
“It's your right to use your authority,” Legend interrupted. He still leaned on Hyrule, but he sounded more formal than ever, his shoulders stiff as they were when he'd spoken to Impa Tolli not an hour ago.
“I shouldn't have done it like that. I knew what I was doing.”
“You needed a specific outcome and you knew who you were speaking with. I understand, Captain.” Legend still sounded sour.
Hyrule was barely following. Was this about when Time had ordered him to visit the clinic? That was his prerogative, as Captain; to determine the best course of action for the good of the crew and insist upon it.
Legend had acted differently after the order. He clearly had more issues with authority than Hyrule had thought. He had almost acted like—
No, Hyrule thought, shaking his head. Even the Kingdom couldn't get around its own strict laws about servitude and personal liberties. Could it?
“I still apologize for invoking a Captain's authority the way I did,” Time said firmly.
“Would you change the way you did it?” Legend asked.
Time didn't answer.
“Didn't think so. It's all about who obeys and who doesn't, isn't it? Come on, Rulie.” Legend did his best to pull Hyrule away from the corner of the cargo hold himself.
Hyrule felt guilty all over again, but he joined Legend in going up the stairs and heading to the main deck of the Epona. The pipes were once again obscured from view and hearing by thick panels of light metal, everything shiny and squeaky clean.
Wind dropped into view from a level above, all damp hair and bright energy. “You're back! You're better?”
“Uh, yeah,” Legend managed, surprised.
“Awesome, I have something to show you.” Wind didn't physically grab Legend, but it looked like a close thing. He started down the narrow hall and looked back, grinning with mouth full of sharpened teeth.
Legend went first, but Hyrule tagged along, curious. Wind led them to the bathroom at the back of the living quarters, the nicer one. He ushered them inside—the three of them barely fit—and fished in a cabinet for a moment before pulling out a colorful packet and shoving it in Legend’s face.
“What—” Legend started, taking the packet and smoothing it out to read the glossy text. “Hair dye.”
Wind nodded eagerly. “Aryll does hers a lot, so I figured that if you wanted, I could help! This is the brand she likes, so maybe not the right color, but I also got some of the color adding packets so you can try to get closer to the usual. It also lasts a really long time! Yours washed out so suddenly.”
Hyrule stifled sudden giggles.
“Wow,” Legend said, staring at the sample hot pink color printed on the package. “Thoughtful. Uh.” He looked up at Wind.
And Wind looked so proud of himself, so eager, that Legend visibly waffled.
“I think I can, uh… Sure,” he said. “You can help once we're out in open space again.”
Wind opened his mouth to reply, probably with something bubbly, but Hyrule accidentally interrupted—his giggles turned to coughing.
Both Wind and Legend turned to him, eyes wide and careful.
Once Hyrule could breathe again, he still had to navigate giggles at the identical looks on their faces. “I must've picked something up on the station.”