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wolfwarden · 1 year

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Whumptober Day 5 & 24- Blood Loss, "I don't want to do this anymore."

Word count: 3,703 Fandom: Linked Universe Characters: Time & Warriors (@gintrinsic-writing this is at least partly your fault. 😅) -

Time wakes slowly, his heart stuttering oddly in his chest. The wound in his shoulder burns and overshadows the aches flaring all along his side from where he hit the ground. He struggles to raise his head, but a steady hand presses down on his chest, trapping him.

“Stay down. You’ll only make yourself dizzy.”

He hates how easily he’s held down. Is the person beside him that strong or is Time that weak? He frowns and tries to blink the world back into focus. “I hit my head, didn’t I.”

“No. But you’re bleeding a lot. Take it easy.” The tone is gentle and fond and familiar. Time finds it hard not to relax into those words. They make him feel very young, like when he first met the Captain in the War of Ages. It had been an odd adventure, with a different hero looking after him instead of- Wait. His thoughts are sluggish but he tries to push through. That is the Captain’s voice. I'm with him but he’s Warriors now and I… I was hit. He tries once more to sit up.

“Old man!” Warriors snaps at him and grabs Time’s arm, grip strong and steady.

The world dips and sways for a moment before leveling out. Time leans closer to his support, his pulse thundering in his ears as he sucks in a shaky breath.

“Stubborn cuss. I told you.”

Once again the hands push him forcibly back to the ground. “Ah. It’s the blood loss, I take it,” Time says, avoiding Warriors' exasperated gaze by focusing on the rosy sky behind him. The sunrise has painted the morning a deep pink.

“The- of course, it’s the blood loss. You had an arrow in your shoulder!”

Time tries to inspect his tunic, fingers fumbling over torn and bloody (but thankfully arrow-free) fabric. Warriors bats the probing fingers away. Time’s fingers instead follow a trailing bloodstain up to the captain’s beloved scarf, reaching up and tugging at the stained fabric just under Warriors’ chin. “Getting sloppy.”

Warriors’ hands give a rough jerk as they wind a bandage around Time’s wound. “Don’t worry about it.”

Is it normal for the world to tip so unnervingly? Time feels he might topple over despite already lying flat on his back. Or maybe he’ll fall up into the sky. He fights to pull his thoughts back in line as his mouth babbles on. “You’re normally so careful. Probably ‘cause you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Doing what? Patching you up?” The words are lighthearted but Warriors seems distracted, eyes flitting from side to side. “I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime, Sprite.”

“Sorry.” The shadows at the edges of Time’s vision darken and stretch for a moment, so he tries to slow his breathing, fighting the pull of unconsciousness. But the air feels too thin. It whistles in and out of him in quick, shallow bursts. “I might pass out.” His voice sounds wondering, like a child’s.

“Yes, you might.”

But that wasn’t right. He just woke up. He’s recovered from worse injuries than this without feeling so heavy and weak. Stubbornness makes him clench his fists and gather himself for another attempt at rising.

He fails.

It rankles to think Warriors will have to take care of him on top of leading the others. He’s been taking on too much recently, Time thinks, and he’s going to burn out… Memories from the past couple of weeks crowd forward in his mind: Warriors jumping to patch everyone up after battles no matter his own injuries; Warriors insisting on seeing to tasks alone so the others could rest; Warriors wandering back into camp with an unconscious hero in his arms, stubbornly putting himself in charge of their recovery.

Frankly, it was alarming how frequently that last one had been happening, and Time wasn’t about to become the next burden. “Help me up,” he says.

“You’re too weak.” A gentle hand sweeps over his head. “Rest now.”

“Silly to go back to sleep this early in the morning. It’s time to be up. So I should be up.” Time tries for a teasing smile but Warriors’ answering look is still tense. He tries for a more sincere tone, searching for the key to let him win this argument. “I’m not that kid anymore. I should be taking care of you.”

“You do.” The words are soft and difficult to catch. “You are.”

“Not enough,” Time insists.

Warriors hesitates before answering in a near-whisper, “Too much.”

Something in those words isn’t right. Time tries to sit up again, to get a closer look at Warriors, but weariness has him bound to the ground. He wants to assure Warriors that he sees him and everything he does for them. Everything he did was for the good of the group.

Warriors sucks in a shaky breath. “You were already so pale… but I couldn’t…” His face twists into a pained expression before he gives his head a sharp shake. “No more. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

There’s something amiss here, Time thinks, like Warriors is trying to convince himself of something, but Time’s sluggish brain still won’t cooperate.

“It’s okay. It won’t happen again.” Warriors finally turns to look at Time, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the recent fight. He looks more energized now than before the fight began. He slots his arms under Time’s shoulders and knees and in one motion has him hoisted into the air.

But that can’t be right. Time’s vision floats in and out of focus but he knows this can’t be real. Warriors carry him in full armor? The captain is strong but not that strong, so what on earth is happening…

Time blinks and finds himself on the ground again, armor and weapons removed, bundled in a blanket and soaking in the warmth of the mid-morning sun. Legend is lying close to his side, similarly bundled up. Their veteran still hasn't fully recovered from yesterday’s battle, where he’d taken a hit meant for someone else. He seems to be sleeping peacefully now and Time can’t bring himself to wake him and ask how he really made it back to camp.

“Need something warm to drink?” Wild crouches next to Time, steaming cup in hand, looking much less pale than he did yesterday though he still wears a bandage around his neck at Warriors’ insistence.

“Thank you.” Time reaches for the cup but pauses as his hands shake. He glares at them, trying not to feel too irritated with his body’s weakness. Malon would put up such a fuss if she knew how hard he was being on himself again.

Wordlessly, Wild helps him into a slightly more upright position and guides the cup to Time’s mouth. The homey taste of milk and honey floods his mouth, but a bitter aftertaste has him grimacing.

Wild watches him with far too innocent an expression.

He laces his question into a single word, “Wild.”

The young man snorts. “Sorry. Mixed a bit of red potion in there.”

Even as he says it, Time can feel the ache in his shoulder ease considerably. “You shouldn’t have wasted it.”

“It’ll only be a waste if you don’t finish it. Drink up.”

He begrudgingly raises the cup only to have his hands tremor again, slopping honeyed milk over the side.

“Careful!” Wild steadies him. “I guess,” he asks disappointedly, “you’re still feeling weak too?”

Time frowns. “It would appear so.” This was not the first instance of this happening. Another injury that felt worse than it should. Another potion that healed flesh but did not restore strength. The puzzle nagged at Time.

“Warriors thinks we might have gotten a bad batch of red potions at our last stop, but Four thinks that there’s something about this era that’s affecting us.” From the pinched expression on his face, Time can tell the mystery is bothering Wild just as much.

Time tries to push his cup back to Wild. “Give the rest of this to Legend.”

“Oh, no, you’re drinking that. Besides I’ve already had Legend drink a potion.”

Time looks over his shoulder at Legend, still sleeping through their whispered conversation. He already senses the answer but can’t help but ask, “No change?”

“No. His wounds are all closed up but he still seems so drained.” Wild sounds tired himself. “But then again, there was a lot of blood….”

Indeed there was. Time can remember it clearly. The crack of a metal blade splitting a shield. Legend’s shocked cry of pain. Warriors' blinding panic as Legend fell back against him, blood splattering across the captain’s face. He recalls the way Warriors curled over Legend, equal parts protective and manic, shouting at them all in a near scream “stay back, I know what to do, just give me space!”

Time shudders, a chill snaking through him.

“Time?” Wild lifts the cup again. “You need to drink.”

He obeys if only to spare Wild from having to worry over another patient. Despite its offensive aftertaste, the warm drink does its work and by the time it’s gone Time feels the irresistible pull of sleep. He doesn’t fight it. “Wake me in an hour,” he mumbles. Perhaps after a short rest, his thoughts will stop tumbling over themselves. Later, in the clear light of day, perhaps things will make sense.

~~~

When he wakes, there is no sun to greet him. Cold moonlight paints the campsite and Time is groggily counting the Hylian-sized shapes on the ground before his thoughts properly crystallize. He reaches seven, counting himself, before his ears catch the harsh whispers of conversation from deeper in the woods.

“They’ve settled in for the night but still close enough it makes me uneasy, ‘specially considering we’ve got injured.”

That was Twilight. Was there danger nearby?

“But not many?”

Warriors’ voice, his tone sharp and focused.

“Four Bokoblins, a single Lizalfos, and a couple Like-Likes. Easy pickin’s.”

Time could almost hear the eye-roll in Twilight’s voice.

Twilight continued, "I'll keep an eye on 'em for now and we can pick them off just before daybreak."

Ah. Nothing too out of the ordinary then. Twilight was adhering to Warriors’ standing “orders” (though he was careful never to frame them as such): No splitting the group to pick off unaware monsters. No solo hunts. And certainly no unplanned attacks at night.

"No.”

"No?" Time feels his own surprise mirrored in Twilight's response. "But you-"

"Look at them, Rancher. Our companions are all exhausted. I know I don't normally condone this, but let's clear these monsters on our own."

Time can't see Twilight's expression, but the silence drags on uncomfortably long. There's the soft sound of a few footfalls drawing closer, then Warriors’ voice sounds again.

"We need to look after them. Time especially… he was so pale after the fight today…"

"You think he's getting sick?"

Twilight's concern is an almost tangible thing, the weight of it pressing down on Time. He wants to roll over and object that he's fine, but he holds still. There’s an awful creeping feeling, born from years of adventuring, cautioning him to wait.

Warriors hums in contemplation. "Yes, that might explain a few things. A sickness."

"Four told me yesterday that he's concerned about Legend and Wild. They haven't been acting right either."

"How so?" Warriors’ voice has turned harsh. Time knows how seriously Warriors takes sickness running through his camp.

"Too weak, too lethargic."

"Rancher, they are recovering from massive injuries. Of course, they're extra tired."

"Legend barely sleeps through the night injured or not,” Twilight replies, sounding unconvinced, “but he's been in and out for almost two days."

"Blood loss, Rancher."

"Then what about Wild? Bruises and broken bones don’t equate to blood loss there. But he's just as weak-"

"He was just as weak. He's much better now and he'd be horrified to hear you call him that."

The sound of Twilight's teeth snapping shut is audible. "I didn't mean it like that!" came the growled reply.

A low chuckle responds, "I know, I know."

“He insisted on watching over Time in case he woke up, but did you see him afterward? He helped Time get a single drink and then had to sit and rest. Wild. Sitting still voluntarily! The both of them out at the same time is just….” The anxiety in Twilight’s voice made Time feel guilty like he was peering into fears Twilight hadn’t permitted him to see.

Warriors says, “Do you think I want them to be hurt?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Good. I don’t want it to happen. But sometimes it does. All we can do is take care of them afterward. It’s a cycle of loss and regrowth, but we can manage,” he whispers intensely. “We can survive this.”

There’s a pause, then, "I don't know that I ever thanked you. When he fell. You jumped down after Wild faster than anyone."

Time could supply the rest of Twilight's thoughts. ‘Faster than me.’

Twilight continues, "And then you carried him all the way back up the mountain path." Time hears a quick shuddering breath. "The whole time you were gone I kept imagining-" his voice cuts off abruptly.

Time remembers. He remembers the relief of seeing Warriors crest the ridge, Wild tucked carefully in his arms. He remembers how Warriors had laughed off their panic, doing his best to put them all at ease. He remembers Warriors teasing them about being old mother cuccos, shooing them away from Wild so they wouldn't wake him and aggravate the pulled muscle in his neck that the defective potions couldn’t seem to touch. He'd been so attentive and careful to keep ice chu jelly on the bandages, changing them out himself. Time had been proud of how Warriors had practically adopted all the boys, acting almost apologetic as he’d looked after them all.

Everything Warriors did was for the good of the group. Time clings to that.

There’s a shuffling of feet in leaves and Warriors says, "You're a good man, Twilight. You care about others and you protect them.” Warriors’ voice drops low and Time strains to hear more. “All I ask is that you let me help this time.” There’s a shuffle, perhaps the sound of Warriors clapping Twilight’s shoulder, and he says in a much more lighthearted tone, “No need to wake everyone for a few Bokoblins.”

There is a moment of silence where Twilight doesn’t answer.

Surely not, Time thinks. Twilight has sharp senses. He’ll realize something isn’t right here.

“…Unless you think Wild would be willing to sit out for the fight in the morning?”

There’s a snort of derision and the sound of footsteps trailing away from the campsite.

They’re leaving. Time couldn’t put into words why the realization filled him with dread. He didn’t know what he suspected, if anything, but there was a warning screaming in his head that bad was going to happen.

I have to follow them. I need more information. He rolls carefully to the side, shivering as his blanket is left behind and exposes him to the chill night air. Legend, toss-and-turn-through-the-night, and lightest-sleeper-of-them-all Legend doesn’t even twitch. Time plants his hands flat on the ground and carefully lifts himself to his knees. A wave of dizziness hits him but he holds steady until it passes. And it would pass. He would wait it out and make it to his feet. Precious minutes tick by until Time feels steady enough to rise. He does so slowly, hating how wobbly his legs feel, but he’s up. He allows himself one small triumphant grin before he takes his first careful step forward.

He falls.

“Time!”

The half-whisper half-yell startles Time and he whips his head around from his undignified sprawl on the ground. Four scuttles over to him, leaving a hastily abandoned bedroll behind.

“What happened? Why are you on the ground?”

“Nothing happened. That’s rather the point,” Time grumbles, breathing much too hard for a man who had only attempted to get out of bed.

Four gives him a narrow-eyed look. “I guess the better question is ‘Why are you getting up unassisted in the middle of the night?’”

And what can he say to that? ‘I got up to eavesdrop on our mutual companions?’ ‘I went to stop a foolish risk?’ ‘I have a bad feeling?’

Four waits patiently.

“I hardly know myself.”

Four does not look reassured. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s at least get you back to bed.”

Time thankfully (or shamefully) is only a few steps away from his bedroll so Four manages easily enough to support Time’s awkward crawl back. He’s shivering uncontrollably now and Four tugs on the blanket, trying to tuck it in snuggly around him.

“I’m all right now. Don’t fuss.”

Once again Four pins him with a look that conveys his disapproval more than words could, before grabbing a spare cloak from someone’s bag and layering that over Time as well.

Time is hit with the urge to laugh at the image Four presents. The littlest of all the heroes but with such a solemn, world-weary look. But Four has seen the world, Time reminds himself. He is an ally, not a child to be protected. He repeats that fact often, especially with Wind. Sharing a burden is not something that comes naturally to him, Malon of all people could attest to that, but he’s learning. He’s trying.

Perhaps tonight he should try harder. “I’m worried about Twilight and Warriors.”

“Oh?” Four’s gaze flicks over the camp. “They’re on watch tonight. I assume they’re scouting now?”

“Yes. But I-“ The words are hard to get out, sounding even more foolish spoken aloud, “I have a bad feeling.”

“You feel worse?”

“No.” He grits his teeth and then glares up at the stars, pointedly ignoring the pale face of the moon grinning back at him. Anxiety twists up inside him, warning him that something was coming that he wasn’t ready for. It’s old paranoia. Don’t let it control you. You have no proof of anything.

“You really need to rest, Time.” Four pats Time’s leg as the older man forces his body to relax. “The fight today was brutal. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if one of you didn’t come back injured after Warriors had you two pull away from us like that.” Four rubs his face tiredly. “I know he’s trying out new strategies, but I don’t see the benefit of isolating a few fighters from the group after we’re already engaged in combat.”

“Wait, he-“ An icy knot forms in Time’s stomach as he tries to recall details of how he was shot. “He did that intentionally?”

Sticks snap and crunch underfoot as Warriors himself walks back into the clearing, drawing their attention. The sight that greets them has Time going rigid with shock. Twilight is slumped against Warriors’ side, an arm slung over Warriors’ shoulder, head hanging limply to his chest.

No. Not him. It’s now a horribly familiar sight, another injured boy brought back to camp. Hurting. Unconscious. Cursed, Time thinks. Perhaps we’re all cursed in the moonlight.

"What happened?!" Four calls, rushing over, but Warriors holds out a hand.

“No! Stay back!"

Four jerks back in confusion, gaze bouncing between Twilight, deadweight against Warriors’ side, and Warriors, who holds him upright easily.

Time’s heart races and the shrieking warning in his mind reaches a crescendo. He dares not make a sound.

"You were right, Four," Warriors says earnestly, eyes glittering black in the moonlight. "Twilight told me. There must be a sickness going around.”

“What’s wrong with Twilight?“

“He collapsed.” Warriors lays Twilight gently down, careful not to jostle his head. Even from a distance, Time can hear Twilight’s labored breathing. “Must’ve been hiding how sick he was feeling. Typical Rancher.” Warriors shakes his head and holds a warning finger up to Four. “You must have sensed it before anyone else.” Then he smiles admiringly. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You've always been the clever one. But now we should take care to spread out and keep the sick quarantined from the healthy."

It makes sense. It sounds logical. Time wants to argue against it. But he lies still and doesn’t open his mouth. Warriors seems to not have noticed him and that feels like the only good luck he’s had since the last portal brought them to this cursed land.

"But-"

Warriors snaps, "Please, Four, we need some of us to stay healthy. We're defenseless if everyone is sick at once!” The fierce look is turned off in an instant, replaced with the former pleading and gentle manner. He places a hand on Twilight’s chest without breaking eye contact with Four. “I'll look after him, you know I will, but I need you to guard the others and keep them from getting too close and infected. Will you help me?"

Don’t do it. Time wants to scream but he can’t articulate why. He won’t imagine why. The only thing that would make sense of this is if Warriors wanted them to be hurt. But he couldn’t. He didn’t.

Four nods. "Of course."

Warriors smiles back, and to Time it seems a sinister thing.

But the nights of the full moon always set him on edge like this. They made him paranoid, seeing shadows in the dark, making his heart race. Yes, that must be it. Not my brother’s fault, Time thinks. Not the captain. Everything Warriors did was for the good of the group.

Time tells himself this, but finds it harder to believe it.

He digs his fingers into the dirt on either side, fearful of the world lurching around him, tossing him into the night sky and into the maw of the cruel moon. He holds on and prays for daybreak when everything will make sense again. He can’t trust himself at night. Old paranoia. Yes, that was it.

The moonlight incites accidents that should never have happened. It paints the face of his brother into hard panes and a harsher smile.

It glints on white teeth, making them seem unnaturally long in the moonlight.

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