The In-Between Time
A/N: This was written for the 50Scenes community on Livejournal, using the prompt "Twilight". The fic can be found under my username doi2life. I appologize for any OOC-ness. And this IS non-cannon. In my happy world, Sheik is a man.
I've always loved the Malon/Sheik pairing. I think it's because I tend to adore any and all obscure pairings. They just call to me XD But, either way, there's not enough fanfiction out there for them, so I've decided to fix that. Peoples, beware: there are 49 more fics on their way (Although it might take me a while, considering how this one turned out. This was meant to be a drabble! Not a full-fledged one-shot! Gah!) The title refers to the time when Link was... well, sleeping (the lazy twit xP).
As a child, growing up, Malon had always had a certain fondness for mid-afternoon sunshine. It wasn't as though there was anything special about that specific time; she had just always found herself happiest with the sun right at its peak, beating down on her ranch --because, really, although her papa was a good man, he was so very lazy that it couldn't possibly be considered his-- and warming the soft, smooth pelts of her beloved horses as she brushed them thoroughly. By the age of seven, she had mastered her own schedule, and had worked it out in such a way that all of her terribly difficult chores and tasks were out of the way before the sun had barely even crested the far off Death Mountain, leaving her ample time to laze about and take time to whisper to the horses and coo to the foals.
It also helped that mid-afternoon was right around the time a certain Fairy Boy came wandering up the road, eager to share his latest adventure with her and show off his lovely prizes. And, like children, they would spend the rest of the afternoon chasing each other around until they no longer had the energy to spend, and ended up in a tangled heap of limbs on the grass, laughing and chattering away. And then, he would help her collect the eggs that the Cuckoos laid, receive a nice cold glass of Lon Lon Milk for his trouble, and leave, promising to return soon with more stories and glittering treasures.
Even when times become rough, the mid-afternoon sessions kept her happy and strong and hopeful. It was only when he stopped coming around did she finally see just how bad things had become. Her father was forced from the ranch, and suddenly things were very different. With Ingo in charge, she no longer had the time to lovingly brush the horses, or take the time to rest in the shade during the hottest parts of the day. No, he had her working from the first ray of sun to the last thread of moon. She stopped liking the mid-afternoon sunshine, after that, because too often did she have to peel away her shirt from her sweat soaked skin, painfully, and bath in icy water just to lower her temperature to a point where she no longer had to worry about her blood catching fire. The sun was no longer a friendly reminder of happy times. She came to loath it, over time.
And yet, nights were not safe either. Too many creatures, stalking around in the shadows, terrible forms hidden in darkness just waiting... waiting... until some unsuspecting fool walked right into their trap. No, nights were not her favorite either. But there was a time of day that she did enjoy, although it was a secret that no one, not even her wonderful Epona, could weasel out of her, because she was terrified that if she spoke it aloud, it too would be stolen from her.
Twilight.
The point where day and night merged, for only an hour, their edges blending together until they were no longer separate. The one point in the day where Ingo was still asleep, not yet awoken by the cry of the Cuckoos, but the dead had finally returned to the dirt, if only until the next night. It was the one time she felt safe; the one time all her own, where she didn't have to be afraid, or worried, or even anxious. She could take her time and relax. But, oddly enough, it wasn't the chance to relax and breathe easy that appealed to her. No; what truly made it worth while was the company.
Link had deserted her long ago, leaving with empty promises, and she had stopped waiting for him years earlier. The loneliness had been nearly shattering. The horses were wonderful company, but she could only have so many one-sided conversations before she began to long for human companionship, if only for a bit of time. Ingo was out of the question. She would rather bite off her own tongue than spend one unnecessary second with him. And she never had the time to go wandering about, looking for a playmate. So for two long, lonely years, she had gone about her miserable tasks, sad but determined, and weathered through possibly the roughest part of her life. And then, almost exactly five years ago to the day, something odd had happened.
She had been, absently, running Epona through her usual runs outside the Ranch just before the sun rose up (because that was the only time she could do it without Ingo breathing down her neck, and Epona was far too wild to stick strictly to the course set up for the other horses) when they had come upon a figure, standing just far enough away from the walls to indicate that he was avoiding the property, but close enough to it to signal that he was considering entering. Which had made her sigh, because they got this a lot with customers. They were always torn; half of them wanting to run from the prospect of seeing Ingo and having the slimy idiot try and weasel out every last Rupee they had, and the other half knowing and understanding that they needed the Milk. Lon Lon Ranch was the only way, short of owning ones own cow, of obtaining milk, and the nutrients in it were rich and healthy, making it invaluable. This also, unfortunately, meant that Ingo could pretty much charge whatever he liked for it, and people would pay, no matter how reluctant.
But, as she had drawn closer, she realized quickly that she had never seen this man before. (Actually, at that point, he had still been a boy, but that mattered little.) She had slowed Epona to an ease trot and had approached slowly, hoping not to startle him. At that point, she had been desperate for any type of real contact with another person. Especially one around her age, although he looked a bit older. So she had been reluctant to take any chance, and had stayed cautious. When she had come within five feet of him, however, he turned slowly and peered at her with startling, but not unkind, crimson eyes, but at that moment her eyes had been drawn to the way he was dressed. Wrapped from head to toe in a tight, thick uniform, obvious designed for flexibility, the only thought that had crossed her mind as she looked him over had been, Dear Nayru, he'll die of heat stroke by this afternoon!
Malon was a caring person; the type of person who would gladly give up their own food if it meant someone else would not go hungry. Even at the young, tender age she had been at, she had understood the necessity of kindness towards others, and because of that, she had seen no problem with slipping from her saddle and offering the young man her own bottle of milk, which she had been saving for her own lunch, free of charge, telling him in a motherly fashion that it was completely irresponsible to go about dressed that when it was the middle of the summer months and so very hot outside. He had been startled, if nothing else, by her tone, and had looked at her as though he expected her to grow another head, but after a few moments, had accepted the bottle with a soft nod, not saying a word but making it clear through his eyes that he was grateful for her kindness. She would have asked his name then, had Ingo not started screaming out her own at the top of his lungs in a way that she was certain would forever damage her ears. She had left, but not without giving the stranger a smile and a friendly "Come back soon!" type of wave.
She had expected it to be done after that, and the strange youth would wander off, much like Link had done, and never be heard from again. She was quite wrong about that. The very next day, at the very same time, she had come upon him again, this time leading Epona by the reins. At first, she had been rather irritated by him, thinking him back for more free milk, but just as she had opened her mouth to protest his presence, he had turned again and regarded her with those same eyes, and she had silenced her own protest without thinking, and had gone to sit beside him. He had been dressed the same as the day before, and she had scolded him for his own foolishness, and he had given her the same response: a nod and silence. But still, it had been a comfortable, easy silence. And she had sat with him, Epona pawing at the dirt calmly, until again, Ingo began to scream for her.
This went on and on, over and over, for five years. And, despite herself, Malon found herself in rather high spirits, regardless of the trying times, and actually looked forward to each morning, instead of dreading it as she had been. But this morning was different. This morning she was late. And not just the 'five minutes behind schedule' type of late. No; the sun had risen nearly an hour before, and for the first time in five years, she had missed watching the twilight fade to the morning sun with her mysterious friend. She was torn between emotions as she ran, ignoring Epona's upset whines and mentally promising to give her a treat later to make up for it. A part of her was very angry, mainly at the Cuckoos; it was, after all, their fault she was late. They had been fidgety and difficult all morning, and she hadn't been able to take two steps inside the coop before they all rose up in a squawking mass, frightening her to the point that she had dropped their feed all over the floor. This caused even more panic, as the idiotic birds had swarmed her, and Malon was quite certain she still had feathers in her hair from it.
In fact, all the animals had been acting strangely this morning. Restless and uneasy, and rather temperamental too. It made her worry. Usually they were such gentle creatures... to suddenly become so testy was unheard of...
The other part of her, the part that wasn't cursing the Cuckoos, was absolutely filled with dread. Her friend never stayed passed the twilight hour. Never. He was always gone by the time the sun had risen. And she was worried, because she had never before missed one of their mornings together, and she had no idea how he would react. Would he leave, like her Fairy Boy, and never come back? Would he be angry? Or would he not even notice? He never seemed quite 'all there' during the twilight rendezvous, always a bit distant, a bit preoccupied, and never once had he actually spoken to her. Perhaps he didn't even care... For some reason, that thought troubled her the most.
She was stumbling over her own dress by the time she finally reached the same spot they always sat at, losing her footing in a brief moment of clumsiness, and she was suddenly falling, waiting to hit the ground painfully. She did hit something, but it certainly couldn't be the ground, because at this time in the morning, the ground was not warm, and it certainly did not have a heartbeat at anytime of day, or a pair of arms to wrap around her waist to steady her, for that matter. Flushing a rather bright shade of red that, while she was certain did nothing to enhance her appearance in any way, made her feel oddly feminine, she paused of a moment, taking her first --and possibly only-- chance to fully utilize her senses. In the five years of sitting with him, she had never once touched him, not even in an accidental brush, and so this was new to her on more levels than she presently had the thought power to comprehend.
The first thing she noticed, and filed away to keep within her memory forever to come, was that the odd clothing he wore, which had for many years now baffled her, was not at all like she had imagined. From appearance, she had taken it to be rough, scratchy material that rubbed against the skin in an uncomfortable fashion. To her utter surprise, it was soft and silky, much like her mother's old wedding dress, which Malon had been under strict instructions to never bother but had always been so curious that she just had to find out what it felt like. Next came the unfamiliar, but oddly comfortable feel of his arms around her, which, although she would never admit aloud, she had entertained romantic thoughts of on lonely nights for several years now. And, finally, was his scent. It was vaguely familiar, like something plucked from a dream but still foggy and uncomfortably unclear, and she realized that she had caught slight whiffs of it in the morning breeze, sitting beside him every morning, but never before had it been quite so clear. It was earthy and strong, but not unpleasantly so, and had a slightly exotic spice to it that made it unique and one of a kind. She was quite certain that it had suddenly become her favorite scent, even over the lovely and expensive perfumes that she had caught trailing after Ingo after he had been visiting "pleasant company".
The moment passed too quickly. He pulled away from her, his hands falling on her shoulders to keep her balance, and she wondered if perhaps he too felt the same reluctance to let go, the same desire to remain close, as she had. Looking up, she met his eyes, the same ruby color that they always were, and offered a small, nearly shy smile. He had waited. But, more importantly, he had waited for her. That alone made the entire fiasco with the Cuckoos worth it.
"I'm sorry." She apologized softly, not even realizing that her voice had dropped to a whisper for some unknown reason. "The animals were giving me fits all morning. I didn't mean to take so long."
He nodded once, the way he always did when she spoke: firm and steady, unoffending and understanding. And then, he surprised her. He spoke. "I have to leave."
She was so startled by the sound of his voice, floating and almost haunting but still so delicate and precise that she was firm in the belief that it suited him, that she didn't completely comprehend the words until several minutes later. And when she finally did, she felt tears well up in her eyes, because she understood that this time, he wouldn't just be gone for the rest of the day. He was going to be like Link after all. He was going to disappear. "But--... But why?" She didn't mean for it to sound so petulant, but she felt nearly betrayed. She had come to trust him. Think of him as a friend! And he was leaving her... why did they all have to leave? She had no answer, and knew that he didn't either, so with a small sniff, she took a step back, distancing herself from him in every sense of the word.
Had she been looking at him, she would have seen the pain flash across his eyes, but she kept her own firmly on the ground, determined not to let him see her cry. It wasn't right. He didn't have the right to see her at her most vulnerable; not after hurting her in such a way. He spoke again, his tone subdued and almost sad.
"I have duties to perform. People to protect." Almost slyly, he added, "A kingdom to save." And she had to give a slightly teary laugh at that, half-choking on her own sob despite herself, simply because it was so cocky and arrogant that it sounded nothing like him, and yet it was all the same. He tilted her chin up with one finger, and she let him, because she understood, even if she didn't like it. "Things are going to get worse before they get better. There will be warnings, though..." he trailed off, sparing a glance at the Ranch, and again, she understood.
"The animals...?"
He nodded. "Keep safe." It was half a request, half a demand, and the worry on his face was enough to make her nod her head in a promise. He dropped his hand away from her face, and turned to leave, but she caught him by the arm first, still crying, but no longer quite so upset.
"My name's Malon." She stated firmly, as if to burn it to his memory, because, really, that was what she was trying to do. She didn't want him to ever forget her. If he only remembered her name, but forgot all else, that would be enough for her. To her surprise, his eyes glimmered a bit and, though half his face was covered with the same scarf he always wore, she was certain he was smiling.
"I know." Of course he knew, she realized. He'd only heard Ingo shout it to the heavens every morning for the past five years. Still, it made her feel better to have given it to him herself. She released his arms, clasping her hands behind her back and gripping them tightly to keep from reaching out for him again. Still, he hesitated, and she took this as a good sign. A moment passed, before he turned his back to her. But again he paused, peering at her from over his shoulder, as though arguing with himself over something important. Finally, he came to a decision, and he said the words so quickly she had to wait for the wind to carry them to her, and by that time, he had already started walking away.
"You may call me Sheik."
A/N: Review, please.
Even if you just want to flame me (which I will make it a point to ignore and then laugh at you while your back is turned.). Constructive crit is welcomed, as well as gushing over my fantabulous writing abilities xP
Zuki is my awesome beta, and requires much thanks on my part. Thank you, hun!