Title: The Distance Between
Author: Trace
Rating: T (just to be safe).
Summary: Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.
A/N: This story actually started as a post-game plot bunny in my mind, but I felt it would be incomplete without some development during storyline events. As always, please review if you can spare a moment; I'd love to hear your feedback.

The Distance Between - Chapter 1

Looking down at the mixture of sand and beach grass beneath her feet, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca felt decidedly conflicted.

Gazing out across the Phon Coast from a knoll in the hunters camp, she wondered how a place so beautiful could exist in such a loathe place as Archadia. She held such a fierce hate for anything associated with the empire that she even cursed the grains of sand as they found their way into unwanted places, like her shoes, and caused her a most annoying discomfort. Angrily, she flicked away some sand to her side, her face furrowed in a look of obvious displeasure.

She had considered what Balthier had said very seriously. Despite her fierce hatred for the empire, she was resolved in herself that she must destroy the nethicite, not use it to further her own purposes. The destruction that the nethicite had wrought on the Leviathan, on Nabudis... was the cost of such power worth it? She had reasoned to herself that it was not. Nay, she would use the Sword of Kings and crush the Dawn Shard with her own hands, of that much she was sure. She did not want war for herself, or for her people; they had lost enough already. She merely wanted Dalmasca to be free of her chains, to flourish as she wished, as was her right. As her father's successor, it was Ashe's duty to bring this dream to fruition. Of course, there was always the underlying doubt. With all the odds seemingly stacked against her, except for this small group of people that had somehow become a part of her journey, how could she turn the tides of an entire world into her favor without the aid of something greater...?

Still, to be obssessed with nethicite, whether to utilize the power it held or to negate that power, was one in the same, wasn't it? Either quest led to the same desitnation: the nethicite. And she would be fooling herself indeed if she tried to tell herself that she hadn't considered using the nethicite to show the Empire a fraction of the pain they had displaced on her... The thought lingered in the back of her mind still, tormenting her on occassion. It was all she could do to push it away, to the edges of her awareness, and yet still it throbbed like an old battle wound, begging for retribution. She couldn't afford to let it consume her, she knew. She was not fighting her battle. She was fighting Dalmasca's battle, and she could not allow herself to dwell on her own passion for revenge. Revenge was reckless, dangerous, and all-encompassing. She had to do what was best for her country, and only so...

Ashe sighed audibly, gazing out at the rest of the camp. The group had decided to take a break and use the morning to rest, replenish supplies, do some local shopping with the merchants, and get ready for the road ahead. Basch and Fran took care of the supply shopping, as they both were very good judges of quality equipment and arms. Fran was especially good at haggling with the merchants for a lower price on their wares, something that had surprised Ashe at first. She supposed, though, that some might be intimidated by Fran's seemingly cool and aloof appearance. In reality, the viera was reserved and watchful rather than aloof; little passed under her perceptive eye. So after the vendors had set up their stalls in the morning, Ashe had bid them both farewell and good fortune and gone about tending to her own personal belongings.

Vaan and Penelo were enjoying the affable weather down at the beach front together. Penelo had taken off her boots and was wading in the water as it rushed past her shins, occassionally splashing water towards Vaan, who was sitting up where the water would not engulf him. Though she could not make out their conversation, the soft murmur of voices that wafted on the wind from their direction indicated that they were engaged in pleasant conversation. For all their hardships, for all their loss, they still remained happy. She wondered what made them so different from her, that it seemed she could hardly take a breath before her thoughts descended somewhere serious or melancholy, and yet they could overlook some of life's iniquities and embrace their current situation with optimism, regardless of where it took them.

Still surveying the camp, she caught sight of Balthier conversing with some rather suspicious looking Bangaa gathered around a small hut surrounded by crates. She scowled a bit, wondering what he could possibly have to talk about with that lot, then shook her head, realizing that she would probably never understand the mind of a pirate. She did have to confess to herself that, though a pirate, he was reliable. She had been scandalized to even associated with him at first, though as she had come to know a bit more of him, she realized that just because his profession was less than honest, that didn't make him a bad person, as she had originally categorized him in her mind. Yes, he did steal, but there were much worse atrocities in the world to be committed. Besides, if she just pretended that that part of him did not exist because she could not see it, she was quite comfortable with him. She had slowly come to terms with this over the course of their journey from the holy mountain Bur-Omisace until they had carefully slipped within Archadia's borders.. During the long days of treking across the lands by foot, she had come to know everyone a little better. Balthier was rather charming and witty, yet always very well versed in almost any topic of conversation. Her conversation with him the day previous had inadvertantly explained some of that to her. Not just anyone could be a Judge, of course. He would have to be well educated in scholastics as well as battle, and his family was probably nothing less than Archadian gentry, which wouldbe appropriate given the station of his father as the director of research director at Darklor Laboratory.

Ashe was glad that he had chosen to share his past with her, or at least a piece of it. Everyone knew her story; it was painted on the canvas of history, something that they had all taken part in some way or another, and continued to do daily. However, everyone had a story, and Ashe had a craving to know her companions'. Her first impression of Balthier had been that he was an incorrigible sky pirate, not worth her time. After that generalization, she had no reason to justify an inquiry to his past. He was a petty criminal, one that she had no interest in associating with past what she was forced to endure due to her deposed situation. How ironic it was that he had once been appointed the duty of dispensing justice to the like of pirates, and now he was one. Or perhaps that was the whole reason he had become a sky pirate after fleeing Archadia in the first place. He was running away, he had said. To become a pirate would be to run as far away as he could from his previous life, from what she knew of it.

He noticed, then, that she had been watching him, if only for a few moments, and gave her a nod. She nodded back politely, carefully hiding the embarrasment of being caught watching someone. She turned her head back toward the view of the beach in front of her. The ocean rolled gently, caressed by the wind, it's differing shades of aquamarine, royal blue, and white foam crests creating a beauty unparalleled by the work of man. She took a moment to savor the image in her mind, as she saw little of it's like in Dalmasca. Though when she would return there next, none could say...

A wave of sadness reared within her upon thinking of her home, her beloved capital. When she was there, everything seemed to remind her of something she had lost. The giant cathedral always brought back the images of her wedding day, which filled her with a bittersweet joy. Her wedding day had been one of bliss and optimism; of looking to the future with an open heart and open arms for her new husband. And yet, so soon had he been torn form her, her father soon to follow. The palace mocked her at times, as if to call her name that she should be within it's walls, doing her duty as the heir to the throne, yet instead she was confined to hiding, so that none would know that she lived. And despite the sadness it brought, it was easy to miss her home, when she was so far away from everything she knew.

So consumed was she by her despondent thoughts that she didn't acknowledge Balthier when he approached her, though she did know he was there. Instead, she continued to to stare wistfully out at the ocean, wishing to be free of all the chains that bound her, but knowing that she could not.

Balthier sat wordlessly beside her. He pulled his gun from his back and set it in his lap, then reached into his belt pouch and removed a small polishing cloth and a small container of oil. He cursed the sand lightly under his breath as he began to disassemble his weapon in order to clean out the insides, so that it might function properly. A corner of her mouth twitched at that, but still she said nothing. Her mind had began to wander again, back to dangerous territoy. It seemed that no matter what she thought of about her home city brought up some unwanted memory of her father, or of Rasler. In her memories they smiled at her. Bitterly, she cursed that they might smile in her memories, when reality would not let her do the same.

The world was heavy on her shoulders.

"So pensive, princess. A gil for your thoughts."

Shaken out of her reverie, she blinked and shook her head a bit to clear it, feeling as though the world had been moving in slow motion as she dwelled on her losses. She glanced over at Balthier, but he was focused on cleaning his gun and not looking at her.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I was just admiring the coast line." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. It just wasn't entirely the truth, either.

Balthier smiled knowingly, still carefully oiling the inner mechanisms of his rifle. She had a distinct feeling that he hardly bought into her story, but she didn't particularly care. "Surely. The coast is quite admirable, I'll admit." A testament to his sarcasm that he hadn't looked at it since he had sat down, Ashe noticed. She frowned.

"We have little of its like in Dalmasca. It has been a long time since I've seen an expanse of ocean. I would take a moment to enjoy it, as I know not when I'll see it again." Ashe watched as Vaan and Penelo got their belongings together, both laughing a bit as Penelo had to clutch Vaan quickly to avoid tripping as she slipped on one of her boots. They strolled off, Vaan stretching his arms behind his head, looking as though not a care in the world bothered them at that moment.

She heard several grinding metal noises and startled from watching Vaan and Penelo to see that Balthier had finished oiling his gun, and that the noises had been him putting it back together. Now he methodically polished the outside, being careful to rub off any grime that had accumulated from the rigors of battle.

"You know," he started, his voice softer than it had been, the edge of sarcasm suspiciously absent, "You aren't alone in this."

His statement surprised her, and she was sure it showed on her face as she raised her eyebrows, silently questioning. Balthier looked up this time, taking heed of her incredulous look.

"You're always so dratted despondent. You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to..." he gestured vaguely with his hand, the polishing clothing still clutched in his grip, ".. take off your boots and go play in the water or something. Granted, I understand you wouldn't allow yourself that humility very often, your Majesty."

She glared at him for the implication that she was proud, even though it held an inkling of truth to it. And though her pride told her that she should be severly offended that he dare be so forward with her, she also acklnowledged that -- though crass in delivery -- he might have a point. She acknowledged a temporary victory in his favor by retracting her glare, and looking back over at the water. It did look rather inviting...

Smirking a bit to herself, she stood and reached for the top of her left boot and began to undo the clasps that held the plated armor in place. Slipping them off was not easy work, and she had to steady hersef against a nearby palm tree to do so. She caught Balthier grinning at her from the corner of her eye, and smiled to herself.

"Taking my advice?"

"Roll up your britches, pirate. If I have to be less 'dratted despondent'," she mocked his earlier, sarcastic tone, "Then you do, as well." She had succeeded in removing her thigh-high boots and carefully placed them leaned up against the palm tree she had used to steady herself. She turned to Balthier, putting her hands on her hips. "It's only fitting."

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "I'm not despondent in the first place. Besides, I've work to be done," he said, holding up his gun in one hand, "So that we might further your journey. Speaking of work, don't you have any?"

"I thought I wasn't alone in this?" She folded her arms, tilting her head. "After all, it was your idea." She couldn't just let him accuse her of being disconsolate and not bite back at him. Surely he knew that about her.

She grinned inwardly as he smothered a dirty look at her, and then began to take off his sandals, rolling up his pants to a little below the knee. Smiling in satisfaction, Ashe made her way over to the water, Balthier trailing behind her. She waded out into the water until the ocean came up to her knees. Balthier elected to stay behind in the ankle-deep surf. Ashe dug her toes down into the sand, breathing in the ocean air and enjoying the cool feel of the water on her legs. The rush of the surf felt pleasant against her skin, the ocean swirling about her knees as if to envelope her. After a few moments, she looked back at Balthier, smiling slightly. "Is this so horrible?"

He shot her a glare. "I'm supposed to be saying that to you."

She faced forward again, looking out across the great expanse of the ocean. Only able to see the coast out of the corner of her eye, it was easy to be swallowed in it's massiveness. She stared at where the blue of the softly rolling water met the mellow azure sky. She felt so small, and it was so refreshing to feel insignificant in the world, if even for a moment. She wondered what lay across the horizon, further than her eyes could see... For how long did the water stretch? Did it ever end...?

Balthier had made his way up to where she was standing, also looking out at the ocean. Stealing a glance at him, she wondered if he felt the same peace that she did when she gazed out at the world, not knowing where it lead.

"What is past the horizon, Balthier?"

"Whatever your heart desires. If you were a sky pirate, you could discover what lies beyond." His face warmed, as if he silently embraced his own freedom.

She smiled at his wistfulness. "I meant this particular horizon. But I suppose that answer is as good as any."

"I've no idea what lies ahead of us," he chuckled. "Perhaps, one day, we will be able to find out."

Ashe looked back out, sighing a bit. "To go where you please, just because you wish it so... a luxury I could never afford." She laughed lightly, determined not to dwell on anything unhappy, if only for a small amount of time. "I suppose being a criminal has advantages."

"I suppose it does," he smiled. She found herself smiling back warmly, something that had been uncharacteristic of her as of late. His face was genuine, she noted, something she found strange but fitting. For a pirate, he wasn't such a horrid person. No... on the contrary, even.

She looked away quickly, painfully aware that her gaze had obviously lingered more than was appropriate. Balthier politely said nothing, though she could see his confident smirk out of the corner of her eye. She itched to retort, to defend herself and get in the last word, but he had already interuppted the silence.

"I don't know about you, but I think I'm done frolicking in the ocean for the time being. The sand is beginning to chafe my toes in a most unpleasant manner. Besides, I believe the Captain returns with new armaments." He nodded in the direction of the shore, and Ashe followed his gaze to see that Basch was coming toward them. He had a spear strapped to his back while he carried a sheathed sword and a shield in his arms.

They made their way to the shore then, meeting Basch as he approached. "Highness, I've new arms for you, if they suit your tastes," he said. She stepped forward, taking the shield first. She strapped it to her arm, careful to adjust the straps to her liking. After she was sure they fit snuggly, but not too tightly, she took the sword from him. Unsheathing it, she noted that it was a simple weapon, carefully crafted of platinum for strength, inlaid with a small line of gold and some engravings for appearances sake. She gripped it carefully, adjusting to it's weight, and took up her fighting stance, her shield arm out and sword at the ready. She took a few practice swings away from the two men, nodding after she had correctly balanced the weapon to her body.

"This will do quite nicely. Thank you, Basch." She resheathed the blade then, carefully buckling the sheath to her belt.

Basch nodded and made to leave then, pausing and turn his head back to Ashe. "Your Majesty would do well to remember your boots; we haven't the gil to buy you new ones." Grinning slightly, the knight turned and went about to go collect their belongings. Ashe shook her head a bit, looking to see Balthier raising an eyebrow at her, that nasty little smirk ever present on his face.

"The Captain shops for you and remembers to help dress you? Does he cut your food as well, princess?"

She rolled her eyes at him, though there was no real anger behind it, and brushed past him to go get her boots. "You forget," she said melodically, "that I am armed and you are not."

She had a point. He silently yielded, allowing her the victory (though it would be short-lived, of course), and trailed behind her to go get his shoes.