Don't go far off, not even for a day, because -

because - I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't Go Far Off, Pablo Neruda

Ah, yes. Words that would otherwise be too sweet coming from my own tongue.

My father used to say something along the lines of the sky being my only limit but even then, I knew what he truly meant. There was nothing in this world that could stop me from doing what I wanted. Still, never in my life had I heard such rubbish and I believed every word that vile man ever told me. I can tell you now that there are fleeting seconds when I suddenly remember him – and miss him. She often tells me he's still there… or that some part of him is. Most of the time, I refuse to believe it. Never have I witnessed such a repulsive old man. A man who would commit himself to a mere figment of his imagination. It's unheard of, I tell myself.

Then again, I am who I am. We all know by now that you can't change fate, regardless of its inconsiderate brutality.

Oh, but what am I saying? I should consider myself lucky. A private airship and an incredible partner. We're pirates of the sky. There hasn't been a soul whose daring bravado has yet to cross our path, and we're keeping that in line. As for my partner... needless to say, I'm sure she has no idea how disturbingly captivating she's become in my mind. It's almost as if she's already half of who I am at the moment and it scares me to hell sometimes, you know. As reckless as I criticize others of being, there are times when I don't even see it. The truth, bare in its existence, simply satisfies no means. I don't need truth, I need her. The thought of it makes me want to shoot a hole in my hand. Balthier, you stupid male, I'd say to myself. And there's no point in going on, you see.

"Tell me, Balthier," she'd say to me, her eyes brilliant and deep. "How can you be so confident about everything? Do you not experience afterthoughts?" I'd look at her, mesmerized in her bubble of befuddlement. "Why should I be afraid?" I'd reply. "I've got you standing beside me, and you're all I need. Fear is only diction at this point, Fran." She'd raise an eyebrow at me, uncertain and amused all at once. She's always taken a liking to me, only she'll never admit it. Truth, as I mentioned prior, is useless to her. She's too beautiful and borne of skill to admit such a lowly afterthought in her mind.

But enough talk!

How about I give you the tale of ages?

After all, a story is never complete without its leading man and I will keep those words close. Now, if my lack of organization would only allow me to find a quill so that I may continue this...

It was exactly two years ago when we set out to raid the treasures of the Solidor house and land our deed in sky pirating history. Slipping unnoticed into the guarded house of the Royal Family was fairly easy enough, we thought. It wasn't until Vaan, our soon-to-be abettor, interrupted us in the midst of our raiding and forced us to take flight. In short, we weren't the sole cause of that night's chaos in the Royal House, we were only one part of it. Now I can only produce so many reasons as to why anyone would choose to attack such a pleasant man as Vayne himself.

Success or no, we were thrown into that pathetic place of punishment they call Garamsythe Waterway. I recall coming out unscathed and acquainted with Ashe and Basch, two most suspicious people to meet in a waterway (well, I thought so at the time). But while we added traitors to our list of company, we might as well have gone on regardless. We were considered traitors ourselves, Fran and I. Escaping the Nalbina Dungeons and passing through the Barheim Passage was proof enough and as we made it back to the royal city, we were finally chanced to sort out our priorities.

"What shall we do with him?" Fran asked as we fitted ourselves into a table at the Sandsea the next day. I ran a finger along the rim of my goblet and circled it multiple times, thinking of a role Vaan was to play in our chase. Alas, I looked into her dark eyes, half smiling.

"It's apparent the boy's a thief. A shoddy thief, but a thief no less. We can put his talent to good use for our next feat." By now, Fran was donning her most suspicious expression, seeing the light glimmer in my eyes as I continued. "He also seems to be an avid fan of our profession. We might as well use his admiration to our liking." She looked at me now, unmoving and from a stranger's sight, unresponsive. It was a moment before she took a slow look around the tavern and returned her gaze to me.

"We still have a day left before repairs are finished," she said evenly. "We can make use of our time here and I will check his background for security."

"Rabanastre it is then," I agreed. "We'll split up and see what we can find." I gulped the rest of my drink and stood up, straightening the weight around my waist and making certain that my crafted Danjuro lie safely in its handle. (It's never too much to equip oneself, you know. Ten years spent as a sky pirate and that remains the most significant advice to myself. And also because blokes like Ba'Gamnan choose to hunt me for sport.) So we parted ways and spent the rest of our day rummaging through the city, making certain Vaan had a clean slate to begin with. I suppose this was the price we paid in our profession; we lacked the genuine trustworthiness most people would otherwise place in others. It isn't a matter of right and wrong, it is only necessary for our sake. Fran and I have created an infamous trail and I see no need in feeding it to length. Thus, checking backgrounds has become duty.

That night, we rented a room at the city's main hotel. It was a beautiful room, all furnishings automated to the Dalmascan's overly gratuitous needs. I suppose this was the royal city, after all. As I peered over the vast central square of the city, my eyes followed the blurring dots below. The people of Rabanastre were still busy about their errands. The view overhead was even more spectacular, and it was like flying in still space at night. Quite the sight. As I marveled over Dalmasca's infrastructure, I heard the sound of my name echoing behind me.

"Balthier," she purred, her voice lost in the distance of the room. I was still focused on the incredulously detailed architecture of the building planted across our hotel when I turned around. She had made her way toward the window and signaled to the back of her figure, her backside bare and exposed.

"Could you tie this up? I can't quite reach it from here," she asked nonchalantly. It was a new leather bodice she had recently purchased that day and was trying on at the moment. The piece wrapped around the front of her torso and braided together at her backside with a crimson silk ribbon.

"Let's see," I said as I undid the ribbon altogether and began to braid it into the holes from her lower backside. I worked my way to the top and made a rather impressive bow of it. "There," I said a moment later, shouldering for her to turn around.

"Well, how is it?" She asked as she stood before me, unknowingly basking in her well-figured glory. And I swear on my father's insanity that no matter what Fran threw on, I was always caught in a breathless knot of distraction, wondering what in the world I could say (I'm rarely ever speechless with women, mind you). She was utterly breath taking no matter what she wore and as she stood before me, my eyes fell victim to the sight of her, giving me away all too quickly. I sighed disappointingly to myself, knowing she had won once again. She looked at me and smiled, knowing how truly powerful her charm was with humes, particularly myself. After a long moment, comprehension had finally returned to me.

"Stunning as usual, Fran," I sighed with a defeated smirk, nodding my head disapprovingly at all the things that were currently racing through my head. "How do you do it?" I asked out of curiosity. "There's no way for you to look horrible in anything. You vieras are quite the race." I grinned sheepishly as she kept her eyes on me a moment longer. Before I knew it, she leaned in and kissed me, her presence intoxicating the air around me. She tasted as sweet as strawberries and smelled like a sinkeningly alluring patch of roses. It was almost too much.

"Thanks, Balthier," she said as she pulled away, beaming. I had to take another moment to gather myself.

"Always a pleasure, Fran," I replied. The words came out more breathlessly than I had planned. As she disappeared into one of the changing quarters, I reverted my eyes back to the Dalmascan city, whose lights flickered like stars in the night sky.

Author's Note:

This is my first Final Fantasy XII story. After playing the hell out of the game, I've come to love everything about it, particularly the mysterious relationship between Balthier and Fran. And like so many of my other shorter pieces, I had an epic story set up in my head and managed to jot down some notes. Unfortunately, a combination of laziness and low motivation has prevented me from continuing this. Here's to the future. Cheers.

Reviews are most welcomed.