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Author's Note:

I've been away from fanfiction writing for a few years now (college does that), but I really did want to write something about Balthier and Fran since finishing FFXII. Please let me know if there is interest in either continuing this or writing other FFXII fics.

I have to say that I did read a Balthier/Fran fic a few months ago that took the same starting point (trapped after the fiery crash of the sky fortress), so I have to mention the premise was not my idea, but this is quite different in tone so hopefully I'm not overstepping any boundaries.

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My father had wanted me to become a judge because it was a position he could never occupy. He was always too frail to aspire to such a position. Not like when I began schooling I was much better off. I don't necessarily have the build for such an ominous position. At least that's what I thought until I realized it was all suit and no real girth. You just have to be strong enough to carry around the armor, something that after enough training anyone could pull off. Anyone but my father of course. Judge at 18, renegade at 20 and leading man by 22, I've made quite a name for myself in a fairly brief period of time. Or I suppose, two names for myself.

Naturally though, what good is the leading man without the heroine of the story?

Now, of course the matter of history influences who is interpreted as the central character to any tale. Its safe enough to assume that I've secured my position at the helm. After all, what is more engaging than a sky pirate who bravely sacrifices himself to save the day? And, in accordance, my lovely viera accomplice should be judged as the heroine of this tale. Of course, we need to find our way out of this forsaken wreckage first. And that's not looking likely with my dislocated shoulder and her shattered ankle. Oh and I was doing so well carrying her about, my training as a judge finally being utilized. Just when I decide to do something decisively masculine it blows up in my face. Never matter though. Leading man never dies. Though, time has shown that sometimes it is the heroine who...no, mustn't think of that. Now to find our way out.

"You appear troubled."

Leave it to Fran to point out the obvious with such clarity and precision. I may have termed it "lost in thought" or "pensive," or maybe "dashing." But no she cuts right to the quick of it. Troubled seems accurate enough. She has positioned her legs straight in front of her, perhaps that eases the pain. I can tell it hurts immensely because as I carried her this far tears where stinging at the corners of her eyes. Fran cries over nothing. It could only have been the pain. In trying not to cry out tears threatened to escape. She manages to be both strong and entirely transparent at the same time. Though perhaps only transparent to me. Its difficult to believe we've only known each other these three short years. Or perhaps three years is truly an eternity.

"Take that passage to the left. I smell fresh air. If there is indeed a passage I will gather the strength to follow."

Again so matter of fact. Though the wood no longer speaks to her, her senses are still so finely attuned to her surroundings. But she's flat out lying about gathering the strength. It has nothing at all to do with strength and everything to do with the fragility of her bone structure. I still find it difficult to believe her bones are not full of air like those of birds. The first time she and I...all words are either too vulgar or too sentimental...the first time she and I coupled...yes let's go with that, I was amazed at just how light her slender body was. Indeed, I had seen her fight previous to that, equally adept with a sword, bow, or axe, though there is something undeniably sexier about the bow that the other two, perhaps I have latent anxiety about my...no, let us not follow that pattern of thought any further. I had seen her strength against fiends and then her utter lightness, softness in bed. Not that she's passive, not at all. But there is something altogether different about her under those particular circumstances. It's only in bed that I notice the lilac scent to her hair. The scent that is always there and perhaps only I detect.

Well, while her superior senses have gotten me thus far unfortunately she didn't account for a fork in the path. But then again she is skilled, not magical. I would never demean any of her accomplishments by attributing them to trickery and spells. She achieves it all by the strength of her will. The Wood can make no claim on her successes. Then again who am I to say anything?

So again, right or left, left or right. It's times like this, times like always I realize I can't do any of this without her. Of course I was a dumb kid. Thinking that I could leave everything behind, my father, my kingdom, and everything would be perfectly fine. Well I thought I was a dumb kid until Fran. The fact that even the most rational, the more experienced, even someone such as her could leave everything behind. She let me be as flashy as I wished as long as we were free. And look now what we've been roped into. Not that I would want everything to come crashing down in a flaming mess. Oh wait, that's exactly where we are now. Though I think the fires have pretty much stopped and I'm pretty sure that we've hit the ground. It's only a matter now of getting out. Pull yourself together, Fframran, Balthier. Do I live one life through two names? Or two disconnected lives. Balthier killed Cid. Fframran is innocent. And of course, Baltheir did so to save the planet from certain destruction. Of course. No patricide here, none.

I can feel it now, fresh air. My senses are not like hers, but even I can feel it now. I am getting closer to an exit. But what to tell her. She can't walk, I know this. And I can't carry her, at least, I don't believe I can anymore. If I were perhaps more of a man and less of a pirate. Then, I would be able to carry her away with such ease even with the torn shoulder. If I were a brute such as Basch. But Fran, of course it not moved by such displays of force. She's much more subtle and refined in her tastes.

Vaan did have the urge to ask me once if I had bedded Fran. I say he worked up to it but then again nothing about that boy seems forced. In hindsight perhaps the idea had just casually popped into his head and he felt the need to speak aloud without running it by his nearly non-existant internal filter or the external one of Penelo. But right there was the question, clear as day. "Have you and Fran, you know, done "it?"" How does a gentleman politely answer such a question? I thought of making up some vicious lie along the lines of "Well of course, she does come in to heat nearly every three months, and if I didn't give her a good ride she'd bite my head off." Not a single part of that statement would be true. Except for my proficiency at satisfying the Viera. Well, at least she never seemed to complain. Much. It simply seemed like an amusing statement to make. Except for the fact my head would indeed get bitten off at such a comment. Instead I had to go with, "Why don't you ask the lady?"

Fran had long since given up on trying to ignore Vaan's probing questions. Though she still hadn't given up exactly how old she is. Though I know the answer to that question I would never give her away. He trailed a few steps behind her and asked without sheepishness, "Fran...so...do you and Balthier..." Of course she had heard the question when he had posed it to me, there was no need for repetition but I doubt that had occurred to the young sky-pirate-to-be.

"Balthier is just a boy."

Of course it stung a bit when she said that. Really, it did. I knew she was joking, I could see the smile at the corner of her lips as I strode next to her. A boy indeed. Surely I wasn't then nor am I now a suitable age to be considered fully matured. But she should at least have given me some credit. I had had plenty of women before her, alright so perhaps just four, and yes I admit one after, or perhaps during is the correct word here, but I had been totally committed to her since our first meeting and she knew that. My heart was committed to her. I could not have become the man I am now without her wisdom. And there she was calling me a boy. I wanted to take her right there to show what a man I was, but my exterior remained unruffled.

"I'm no boy, I'm the leading man."

Had Fran been any other woman her eyes would have rolled. If Fran were any other woman I wouldn't feel the way I do about her.

"Anyone may play a role."

Here she was verbally sparring with me and cleverly avoiding the question. Soon enough Vaan lost interest in our conversation and forgot he even had asked a question. I instead caught him trying to procure a glance up the Princess's skirt. Not that I fault him for his attempt at all.

Yes, here we are, a crack in the siding of the sky fortress. Really I would have expected it to be better constructed than this. But, alas, Arcadian engineering is far from flawless. Just look at the evil genius who was in charge of the whole operation. Just look at my father. Or don't, he's gone.

This will do. It's only about three feet from the bottom of the hole to the ground and there is more than enough room for Fran and I to fit through. The only challenge will be getting her this far and then lowering her down without making the injury worse. This seems to be the worst possible time to have completely run out of magic. We will find a solution together I'm sure. Perhaps if she can make it this far we may rest for a few hours before attempting to make it down to the ground.

I should never had expected Fran to give Vaan a straight answer on the question of our intimate behaviors. Then again I had also expected him to forget the incident entirely. Little did I know. In the tents just outside of the Silkawood he asked again.

"Really, Fran, I want to know. Not just because I want to know. But I want to know if Viera and Humes can."

I was already inside the tent she and I shared. Basch and Vaan were in another and then Ashe and Penelo. Apparently Penelo was afraid of the possibility of Vaan's advances in the middle of the night. Considering how curious he had become of Fran and I she perhaps had reason to worry. Though I'm sure the little blonde is more than capable of defending herself against any assault, particularly that of a half asleep-fully hormonal teenager.

"Since leaving the Wood I have taken Hume lovers."

It was a little shocking she would go so far. Although the straightforwardness of the statement was less than. This was what really got under my skin though. Thinking about how many men, Viera as well as Hume, had seen her as I had seen her. How many men she had watched die of old age while she stayed just perfect, or how many she discarded without a second thought. I'm not the jealous type. This isn't about jealousy. It's about wanting to be absolutely unique. Real leading man material. I cannot tolerate the idea that I may be so easily recast.

She said nothing else to Vaan that night. After making her statement she retreated into our tent. She retreated to me. Of course, I was a perfect gentleman and didn't press the issue at all. Perhaps enough of a gentleman for her to take notice, but not enough to leave an impression.

"Fran, I've found a way out. It will be challenging though with your ankle in such shape."

Little did I know that as I was trouncing about reminiscing about the past, Fran had been doing something truly constructive, fashioning an ankle brace. It looked quite sturdy though I'm sure it won't be of much help. Maybe just enough for us to reach the opening.

"I will be fine."

I shouldn't question her any further, though I know that the ankle will pain her. That's the thing about Fran really, she's so stubborn. Even in our private interactions where she's quite often softer than what the outside world sees she can turn so quickly, refuse to give up any information at all about her well being. Either she is never ill or she never admits to being ill. The frustrating part is those moments where I must know what she is thinking and yet there is nothing.

She limps along now at my side, those painfully high heels long discarded. While she delights in wearing them I can't see the practical use of them at all. I would like to speak with her now, take her mind off of the situation at hand and the pain in her foot. But Fran doesn't go for idle chatter. No, to distract her it must be something impressive or offensive. Since I have thus far failed to impress upon her my ability to deal with the current turn of events, I move instead to the offensive. If only Vaan could hear me now.

"Fran."

"Balthier."

To the point, just as I wish for her to be. Not as if my wishes have any bearing on her being.

"The others before me. Were they quite so...dramatic."

"Only in bed."

Well that should teach me my lesson. Of course it won't actually. It's not so much that I'm curious as that to be a gentleman in this situation requires creative thinking. To have a comeback such as that must have at least momentarily eased her suffering.

"And your performance in such matters?"

"Don't take after Vaan, it doesn't suit you."

I would find the levelness of her voice soothing. That would be if she ever spoke to me in the evenings as I would drift off to bed. But shockingly her race finds little comfort in post-coitus processing. It's a shame too since she's the only women I've ever slept with worth talking to.

"Really now, you told the lad that you had taken Hume lovers after all. And like any warm-blooded male I'm curious about how I measure up."

"So you ask if you satisfy me three years after your first attempt?"

Attempt...that doesn't sound particularly promising. What am I thinking, this is about her and distracting her, not my own insecurities. I wonder if it has to do with...no no of course not. Stop thinking that way right now. It's about skill and finesse.

"I do not have to ask. Had I not proven a suitable partner I'm sure you would have done away with me by now. I'm simply curious how suitable I have become."

I do not need a declaration of love. Long ago I gave up on that prospect. Of course, that's the way I feel about her. How could I not? She's really the ideal woman in many ways. I would be a fool to not recognize that. But I'll never ask her that question. Or admit my urges in quite that way. She will outlive me. I will outlive my usefulness. As I grow old she will move on to a more youthful companion. I know this to be true. How many men she must have left the same way. I'm searching for the same thing always from her. I want to be special. If I can carve out a place in her mind, or I dare-say her heart, it's like a piece of immortality. Though, no, I'm not that selfish. Truly. I also want this experience to be like none other for her. It's not every day you're the leading lady in the adventure to save Ivalice from certain destruction. But in her lifetime perhaps this was not her first time. Perhaps it will not be her last.

"We've reached daylight."

Leave it to Fran to point out the obvious with such clarity and precision.