Author's note: Dust gathered on this story and, oops, there it disappeared into my computer! Thankfully, a reminder here and there got this baby up.

This story takes place after the incident aboard the Leviathan airship. No real spoilers unless you know you're staring at one.

A Different Reward

The fiasco aboard the Leviathan airship left the group tired as they flew their way back to Rabanastre. Who wouldn't be tired? Chases, rescuing not one, but two damsels, and to top things off, escaping explosions as engine failures cascaded throughout the Leviathan. Once Penelo and Ashe were back in their ragtag group, Balthier had the unbridled joy to narrowly flee wave after wave of heated shockwaves and dodge pursuing aircrafts. Ah, these rushes always sent blazes of excitement through Balthier.

He set ground on Rabanastre and everyone soon found a place to stay for the night; an older married couple who had an upper floor of their home to rent to guests. The place included rooms, a decent sitting area and a tiny kitchen. Every part was accessible by merely a few strides, which meant the home was cramped when everyone was inside. This level of the house cost a pretty coin, but Balthier felt a night inside a stuffy home was worth every gil. It was more luxurious than staying in any cramped, dirty dungeon cell in Nalbina Fortress. Why, there was even a much appreciated clean bathroom which was so frequented by everyone that there might as well have been lineup tickets for the wait. Ah, the tribulations of traveling with a large group.

Dwindling excitement and chaos gave opportunity for hunger to set in. Evening had set by the time everyone had settled down in Rabanastre. Late days meant dinner, and dinner is what was planned. The meal was a group effort, naturally. Balthier, a tad worn out, was in charge of peeling potatoes for what would end up cooking in a lovely Nazamir stew. Its meat was supposedly quite tender. Everyone else was scattered about, either searching for ingredients at shops or getting ready the cooking utensils.

Balthier was miffed. His rump sat on a hard backed chair, a little potato in one hand and a cutting knife in the other. He had finished peeling his eighth potato nugget from his never-ending pile when Fran neared. She settled down across from him on an equally uncomfortable seat. She had enough grace not to complain.

"Why am I relegated to do the menial task of peeling these?" he inquired her as a greeting.

"The others are contributing in their own ways," Fran answered with a touch of sympathy. She, having been in charge of buying the vegetables, was a smart shopper and returned before anyone else who had gone out. Namely Basch and Ashe. Vaan and Penelo had stayed behind to prep the kitchen and neither of them volunteered to help him out. They -more like Vaan as Penelo playfully prodded him with a wooden spoon- were tending to the vegetables that were going into the meal.

Balthier wondered if those two former royal Dalmascans had ever bought groceries before. There was a moment of entertainment as he imagined the proper Princess Ashe attempting to choose the right condiments for the stew and debating with Basch about them. The discussion of the meat would likely be a one-sided persuasion on the Princess' side, even if Basch was right. Her will was iron when she set her mind to something.

The short-haired man studied the shaved potato in his hand. The faceted edges created by his knife made the potato resemble those accursed glowing stones. He frowned at the unbidden thought. "Does this wedge seem like nethicite to you?"

Silence came from Fran. When she responded, her words were measured. "No. No, it does not."

"Right. It wouldn't." Just hearing the name of Dr. Cid while aboard the Leviathan distracted Balthier. He couldn't stop thinking of the man's meticulous schemes involving nethicite and what nefarious ideas the scientist had. Balthier really didn't feel like having his mind run in useless circles on the topic of him. All at once he snapped, "Couldn't I have been assigned a more glorious task? Shooting down a prime game out in the Westersand would have been much more suitable. No lack of fresh meat there."

Fran looked at him in a patient manner. She was used to his cathartic outbursts. They didn't occur often, but Balthier was grateful that she wasn't the kind of person to up and leave when he released a verbal spew. "The girl didn't want to acquire the meat that way. She worded it "gross and barbaric"," Fran explained.

The mention of that certain female relaxed him. She had been the one who came up with the idea of stew. "Yes, Penelo. A cute one she is. Though I do partially disagree with her. The thrill of the hunt sends my blood racing. The stalk, the wait, the inevitable reward. Sometimes, the dirty clothes are worth the catch." The sky pirate exhaled in reminiscence.

"True, but the hunt races your blood when you get over your head and misjudge your prey. Remember that mishap recently where your trigger finger slipped?"

Of course she had to bring this incident up. During one of their hunts nary a week ago, Balthier had come across an enemy. He normally remembered the fiends he came across in hunts but it had set a nasty confusion status on him so quickly that he didn't know he was affected. He sent his gun firing away at Fran. She was a fast one and dodged his bullets as she tried to heal him, but before she did he grazed her calf muscle.

His shooting was purely accidental, but he apologized more than once for it when he had recovered. Fran had accepted his first one, but the subsequent ones she had to bear as something humes did when they felt especially guilty for hurting others. Repeats of the word "sorry" weren't in Balthier's nature, but being a gentleman and a companion meant the occasional call of conscience would arise.

The faint glower on Balthier's face needed no oral affirmance as to whether or not he recalled his slip. Fran wisely did not goad anymore. He finished stripping the skin off the potato, dropped it in a bowl on the floor beside his chair and disdainfully picked up another paperweight from the pile at his feet. Quiet descended as he resumed working. He stopped midway to object again. "Not only am I given the task of peeling, but these blasted things are tiny."

"They hone your skills." Fran stated this simply.

Puzzled at her words, Balthier raised a brow. "Come again?"

Fran easily crossed one cocoa leg over the other. A clump of her extraordinarily long white hair fell off its perch from her shoulder. She made no move to push it aside. She was quite as ease with herself. "You shape the potato with your knife without injuring yourself. The blade is sharp, is it not? Plus you try to take off only the outer layer and not the flesh."

That was his partner, ever the pragmatist. A corner of Balthier's mouth widened. "No matter the positives, this job isn't for me. Perhaps a nimble viera such as yourself would fancy a go at this?" He offered the moderately bare potato with an outstretched hand.

Being as diplomatic as anyone from her rabbit-eared race could be, Fran humored her partner and reached out to take the prize palm up. Her hand brushed lightly against his and her long fingernails deftly stroked his wrist where his cuff spread open. Balthier felt his mouth part a bit at the pleasant sensation. He examined Fran when she leaned back. In true viera fashion, her blank face revealed only seriousness while she perused the man's craftsmanship.

"Your hands are very stable," Fran observed.

Balthier eyed her neutrally. "You don't say."

"Yes. These cuts are curved." She indicated to said points on the potato.

He leaned forward to add something sly when Penelo appeared. The two sides of her tied blond hair bounced up when she stopped beside the chair Balthier planted himself in.

"Hi guys," she greeted them. She hadn't spoken to them much aboard the Strahl after they rescued her. Mayhem and panic did that to conversations. Penelo spotted the potato in Fran's hand, then switched her vision to the seemingly slacking sky pirate. "Balthier, are you letting Fran do your work?" Her unfamiliarity with them made her teasing tone anxious at the end of her question.

"Not at all." Balthier tugged his sleeves and a charming smile graced his face. His cordial game with Fran could wait. He wasn't going to let his eight potato peeling victory go to waste. "I am on a roll. Fran was about to assist."

A tall bunny ear twitched at hearing his assumption. Fran held out her hand and dropped the nugget into Balthier's lap in mock dryness. "I was advising." She gazed at him.

Penelo looked back and forth between them, obviously missing out on the intimate veil of their banter. "Well, the water is almost ready."

"Really? A soak in hot water and a change of clothes would do me wonders." Balthier closed his fatigued eyes momentarily and rotated a crick from his neck.

A flush of pink highlighted Penelo's cheeks right then. Balthier noticed this when he reopened his eyes. He tilted his head slightly at the reaction. The petite girl cleared her throat. "I, um, meant the water for the pot is nearly ready."

Fran didn't say anything, but Balthier already spied a hint of laughter in her dark eyes at his blunder. Indecent visions of himself in the tub were likely flitting through the young Penelo's mind right now. Enjoying the effect he was causing, Balthier swiveled his focus back to Penelo. "Yes, that is good news. But as you can tell, I have a ways to go to completion." He picked up the unfinished potato from his lap.

A slightly discomfited, yet sunny grin shone on the teen's lips. "You can do it. You escaped Nalbina dungeon, right? What's a little food preparation? Besides, water doesn't spoil. But, um, could you hurry? Vaan is complaining about hunger. I don't know how long I can stand listening to him talking about food because he's making me hungry."

She made a military turn and started to leave, but suddenly rotated back around. Shyness overcame her pixie features as she looked at the older man. "Oh, by the way, thanks for peeling these things. I know they can be a pain." Then she left for real, joining Vaan across the room who was twirling her abandoned wooden spoon in the air like a baton.

Balthier gazed thoughtfully as Penelo reached high to snatch back her cooking utensil from her friend who was waving it high above his head. He shook his head with a decisive chuckle and spoke to Fran. "If a young woman's smile is what I get for this job, I'd say that reward is worth it. How can I say no when I am paid upfront?" A cockier edge came to his smirk. "I know this stew will be splendid."

His cutting hand was steady as he began to peel once more.

- THE END -