A/N: Okay, so I started writing this as an experiment to myself. Or perhaps a quest to answer a question that came up after many conversations with my best friend. The question being 'what is it about Balthier that so grates on my nerves?' The eventual answer went into trust and everything that comes with it. So of course, this piece emerged. So this is for you, Sache8. You and I both know how ironic it really is that I wrote this. ;) Happy, happy birthday, even though I'm very late with your present.

This is sort of an Ashe/Balthier one-shot; it might not be fluffy, but it's definitely about the two of them. It's the first time I've ever attempted to write them interacting, so…it should be interesting. ;)

Disclaimer: --puts a big "Property of Square Enix" sign up--

A Lesson in Trust

Ashe sat at the edge of the water, toes buried in the sand, and watched vaguely as Vaan and Penelo splashed in the waves. The Phon Coast was gorgeous, especially after all of the recent places she had been so very fortunate as to visit. Tombs, caves, death traps in the guise of jungles and forests--this place was paradise in comparison. Had she not been so distracted, she might have had the attention to appreciate its beauty. As it was, she had much on her mind that kept her from really paying attention to the scenery. About all she registered was the relief that there were no fiends attacking her, unless she counted Vaan managing to completely drench her during an earlier water fight with Penelo.

It was not only the weight of the stone that she carried that was heavy on her heart right now; her mind was fixated on Balthier, and on everything he had revealed to her the day before. She had been so sure that she had his character pegged. A sky pirate in search of whatever treasure could bring him gil, who would even take the very ring off her finger to ensure payment. (Yes, he had said he would return it, but she wasn't sure she truly believed him. She told herself it didn't matter; what was a ring in comparison with saving her country?)

Her eyes wandered down the coastline, where the object of her distraction was standing in conversation with Fran. Even on the sandy, wind-blown shore he looked impeccable. He hadn't even taken off his shoes, which now had to be full of sand. It was insensible and impractical, and for some reason, it frustrated her.

Ashe dug her toes more firmly into the sand. It was hard to sit still; she would rather have pressed on immediately, but she knew the others needed a few days of respite. It had been her voice speaking up, suggesting they take a rest (for the sake of the others, though if she was honest, she would admit that she needed it just as badly). And if she was going to take such rest, then she was going to take off her shoes as was proper for such relaxation. Not Balthier, though; he had to maintain his perfect, immaculate, unruffled appearance.

She fiddled absently with the ring Balthier hadn't taken as she continued to gaze at him. After what he had told her about his father, she had started to realize that everything she thought she knew about him had to be reevaluated, and that was a little disconcerting. She found herself wondering if it was his father that had driven him to become a sky pirate, or if it had been a stifling noble upbringing, or…

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Ashe tilted her head to the side and continued to study him. Her intense focus must have caught his attention, for he suddenly looked over at her and she realized how hard she was staring. Quickly, she looked away, back out at the waves, where Penelo was attempting to dunk Vaan under the water and having little success.

If only this was easier. If only she could definitively pinpoint his motivations. She knew why the others were there. Basch because of his duty. Vaan because he had been trying to run away, and now he was looking for his purpose. Penelo because she went where Vaan went and didn't want to be left behind. Fran because of Balthier. Balthier had been in it for the spoils--or so she had thought.

Why, Ashe wondered, did she have to make this so complicated? What did it really matter what Balthier hoped to get out of this? He had been fighting beside her for weeks now; she had put her life in his hands more than once, battling monsters and casting spells, but really, it was necessity, not trust, that wrought their protection of each other.

And still, she did not trust him.

She did not need this. She had more than enough of a burden to carry without adding the mystery of a wanted former-judge-turned-sky pirate to the pile. She had to think about her people's future, had to focus on restoring Dalmasca. So why couldn't she get Balthier off her mind? Why did it bother her so much that she didn't trust him? Could she really say she trusted the others?

Her eyes roved over the party as she examined this question. For so long she had been positive Basch was responsible for her father's death and her country's demise. Having been forced to see that he didn't betray her, she was now certain his allegiance still lay with Dalmasca. Ever did he think on his loyalty. Vaan and Penelo, though they had suffered much, still maintained a guileless air that made her instantly dismiss any threat of betrayal. It wasn't that she trusted them so much as she did not see them as dangerous to her. Fran, on the other hand, was terribly dangerous and ambiguous, but her loyalties were obviously to Balthier.

It all came back to Balthier, and hadn't he proven that at least he didn't want her dead? Hadn't he further proven his trustworthiness by revealing to her the secret of who is father was?

She closed her eyes. The wind whispered across her face, the joyful laughter of Penelo rang in her ears, and Ashe felt only aggravation. She couldn't understand why it was Balthier, of all of them, who she couldn't come to grips with in her own mind. What was it about him that made her inner defenses flare up, and yet at the same time could somehow totally disarm her?

It was driving her mad.

"Good morning, Princess."

Ashe's eyes snapped open and she looked over to see Balthier settling onto the sand beside her, his shoes resting carefully on top of it. She resisted the absurd urge to kick sand on them. "Good morning."

"You know, the point of stopping here was so that we could all get some much needed respite."

"I'm quite aware, thank you." Ashe turned her eyes away from him, back out at Vaan and Penelo's antics, but she hardly registered them.

"Yet you seem to be concentrating far more on scrutinizing me than you are on relaxing."

"I am relaxing," Ashe replied, scrunching her toes under the sand for emphasis. Not that he could see them, buried as they were, but she somehow felt more justified in her claim knowing that she, at least, had removed her footwear.

"Mm, so you find staring at me relaxing? Normally I would suggest it is my charm and good looks that have so captured your attention, but I fear that you have different motivations. Tell me, Princess, what have I done to be deserving of such interest?"

"Must I now give you my thoughts as well as my belongings? I owe you nothing, Balthier." Ashe was suddenly, inexplicably angry. She wasn't sure she could explain why even to herself, and she still refused to look at him. Perhaps because she was afraid he would see something of her emotions in her eyes, that he might figure something out about her that she had not yet seen. He seemed to be uncanny at that sort of thing, and she had no wish to give him anything of herself. "I already paid my debt to you."

"I'm sensing a bit of hostility," Balthier said, sounding completely unconcerned. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with our conversation yesterday, would it? Are you angry that I offered you advice?"

"No." That was a bit of a contradiction. On the one hand, she had truly appreciated his words, appreciated that he had told her of his father. Appreciated that he thought her too strong to give her heart to nethicite. On the other hand, she had suddenly discovered that his opinion of her really did matter to her, and it scared her. It scared her more than anything had in a long time. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"You're quite clearly distracted--more distracted than usual, that is. A distracted princess will soon be a dead princess."

"I'm quite capable of setting aside distraction during a battle," she said coldly, finally turning to look at him. "Why the sudden concern, Balthier?"

"Concern? No, I'm simply curious as to what I did to be deserving of such virulent looks from you. If I did not know better, I would say you are angry with me."

Ashe stood to her feet. "I'm not angry, Balthier. I simply do not truly know you. I do not know your motivations. What do you hope to get out of this? I have no treasure with which to tempt you, and still you follow. After learning of your relationship with Dr. Cid, I thought that perhaps I understood why you continue to accompany us, but I now find myself asking what it is you want. Do you want to destroy your father? Try to save him? What do you expect of me, save that I will not give myself to nethicite?"

Balthier remained seated, gazing up at her calmly. "What do you expect of yourself?" When she hesitated, unsure, he stood, brushing sand off his shirt. "Bear in mind that I do not truly know you, either, Ashe."

He so rarely used her name, and it sent tingles down her spine every time he said it. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, which only served to irk her further. "I don't trust you."

Balthier's head tilted just barely, his expression as unruffled as his clothes. And his damn shoes. "What makes you think I trust you?"

"You seek only fortune and notoriety; you insist on acting as though you haven't a care about anything, yet you obviously do."

"You say you seek the restoration of your kingdom, yet you are unsure as to whether you will embrace revenge when the time comes. You act as though you must be strong every single moment or you will be seen as weak. You are so caught up in your past that you cannot truly face your future." His gaze very deliberately fell to her hand, where she was again fiddling with her ring, without even realizing it.

Her hand froze on her fingers. For some reason, his last accusation, presented in such a calm and unassuming manner, upset her more than anything else he had said. "You think you know far more than you do; you have just said you do not truly know me and yet you think to know whether or not I can face my future? I rather think you will be facing your past first, Balthier. Perhaps if you stopped worrying so much on maintaining your nonchalance--"

"My nonchalance?" Balthier's voice was amused, and one corner of his mouth curved up in a smile.

"You are presumptuous and arrogant."

"You're temperamental and hotheaded."

"You're the singular most frustrating man I have ever had the dubious fortune of meeting!"

Balthier leaned close, that half-smile curving his mouth again. "You're quite beautiful when you're angry."

Ashe was so flustered and completely caught off-guard that all she could do was offer, "You--you have not even removed your shoes!" She whirled and walked very deliberately away from him, irate because she heard him chuckling. She refused to look back at him, and kept a steady pace until she well out of his earshot. She would have gone out of eyesight, too, but she didn't think it would be wise to completely walk away from the rest of the group, and so she simply chose to sit as far on the other side of the beach as was possible.

She did keep an eye on Balthier the rest of the day--completely unintentionally. She kept finding herself frowning his way and considering him, and he would always catch her gaze, whereupon she would yank her eyes away from his and berate herself again. He was going to begin to think she was obsessing over him, and that was the last thing she wanted. Gods knew he didn't need anything to feed that leading man mentality of his.

That night, they spread out on the beach to sleep, not bothering with tents. Ashe pointedly ignored Balthier the entire time he spread out his blanket. They built no fire, for they did not wish to give away their position, and it was warm enough that they didn't need one. Out of wary caution and habit, they kept watch. Ashe took the first shift since she was not at all tired, and sat facing the ocean as one by one her companions drifted off to sleep. She didn't move except to give the area scans for any potential dangers, mostly just staring out at the sea, listening to the waves gently lapping against the shore, and habitually tuning out Vaan's mild snoring.

When the time finally came to wake Penelo for her shift, her mind was still running a million different directions and she wasn't sure she would be able to sleep. Still, she stretched out on her blanket as Penelo sat up, yawning and stretching. Penelo nudged Vaan with her foot until he rolled over and stopped snoring, and then smiled tiredly at Ashe. "Night," she whispered, rustling around in her pack and emerging with a canteen of water.

"Good night," Ashe murmured. She closed her eyes, waiting for exhaustion to sweep over her and pull her into sleep's inky depths, but it did not come.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there before she was aware that Penelo was humming under her breath, so quietly Ashe could barely hear her. She recognized the tune--an old Dalmascan lullaby, one that her father had sung to her when she was growing up. It brought a hollow ache to her chest, and her eyes slowly opened. She looked over at Penelo, who was staring out at the water as Ashe had been earlier.

She found herself considering the younger girl. It was strange, sometimes, to think on Vaan and Penelo and realize that these playful, argumentative teenagers were two of her citizens, citizens that she was responsible for, simply because she was--or would one day be--their queen. (Provided, of course, they could actually restore her throne.)

She didn't know she was going to ask Penelo a question until it was already out of her mouth. "How do you find it so easy to trust?"

Penelo's humming abruptly stopped, and she turned to look at Ashe, blinking in surprise. "What?" She sat cross-legged and faced Ashe directly. "I don't."

"You seem to trust everyone here quite easily."

Penelo's eyes drifted across the slumbering party. "Everyone here isn't everyone."

"Yet you still trusted us easily enough." Ashe wanted to ask specifically about Balthier, but thought this might have seemed too strange, so she started somewhere easier. "You accepted Basch without any hesitation."

Penelo was quiet for a moment. "Vaan said I could trust him."

"And that was enough for you? Vaan's word?"

One corner of Penelo's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Yes."

"What about me?"

"You? You're--well, as strange as it is to think about, you're my future queen. I've seen enough to believe you have Dalmasca's best interests at heart."

"Does that mean you trust me?"

Penelo looked a little uncomfortable. She looked away from Ashe, and had she been more inclined to fidgeting when she was discomfited, Ashe was certain she would have been squirming like Vaan had the time desert beetles had crawled into his blanket during the night. As it was, she simply tensed and clenched her hands into fists, but it told Ashe quite enough.

"You don't."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Penelo said hastily. "It's…" She gave a long sigh and finally looked at Ashe again. "I don't think you trust yourself. I don't think you trust that you're going to make the right decision when the time comes, because right now, you don't know what the right decision is."

"And you know what the right decision is?" Ashe was not trying to sound caustic; she was just curious. Yes, Penelo had lost much during the war, but how could she possibly understand the responsibilities Ashe faced? The weight that rested on her shoulders?

Penelo didn't answer for a long time, and Ashe had just decided that she wasn't going to reply when she said, very quietly, "I don't want Dalmasca to become another Archadian Empire." She looked at Ashe a little skittishly, as though afraid she would take offense at the implication that her future queen could potentially create another Archadian Empire.

Ashe simply blinked at her for a moment. She was basically saying what Balthier had said the day before, in her own way. "I…thank you for your honesty." She bowed her head for a moment, and when she looked up, Penelo was still watching her. "What of Fran?"

"Fran is easy to trust."

"Why?"

Penelo shrugged a little. "She's gone out of her way to teach me a lot of things. I've gotten to know her pretty well."

"And Balthier?"

"He's easy, too."

"Because you have also come to know him well?"

"No. Balthier tries not to let anyone know him well," Penelo said, making Ashe blink at her some more. "I know he won't do anything to hurt me, though, or any of us."

"How do you know?" Ashe tried not to sound desperate, but was afraid some of her urgency might have leaked through.

"He doesn't have that feel," Penelo said.

Ashe considered her. "What do you mean?"

Penelo was quiet for a moment. She leaned over, almost absently, and pinched Vaan's nose because he was snoring again. Vaan mumbled something and rolled over, and Penelo sighed, her gaze returning to Ashe. "I've lived on the streets for two years. Sometimes I could find a place to sleep during the night, a room or the floor in Migelo's, or if I was really fortunate, I could earn enough to pay for a stay at an inn. Most nights, Vaan and I just stayed with the younger orphan kids in their hideout in Lowtown. It was safer that way for all of us. When you're on the streets that long, you learn that everyone has a feel to them. There were men I had to watch out for, that I made sure the younger girls watched out for. You learn which ones are the ones to avoid. And not just men; there are people who will take advantage of you if you're not careful. They have that deceptiveness. A manipulative air about them. I can't explain it better than that. There's just a certain..."

"Feel."

"Yes." Penelo traced her finger through the sand, her eyes drawn back to the water. "Balthier doesn't have that."

"He runs away. What is to keep him from leaving?" Ashe wasn't sure why she was asking this, why it was coming out of her mouth at all, let alone in front of Penelo.

"A lot of people run away. Always running, trying to escape pain or disappointment or anger. I know someone who used to be that way." Her eyes softened as she looked at Vaan. "This journey has been good for him, though. Maybe it will be good for Balthier, too."

Ashe was silent, but her mind was now racing a dozen different directions, and all the paths led to Balthier. "I…thank you, Penelo."

"Sure." Penelo's forehead wrinkled in a frown as Ashe stood to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk. I shall stay within sight of the camp."

Penelo nodded, and Ashe felt her eyes on her as she walked away from the camp, still barefoot. She went as far as she could and still be within view of Penelo, then sat down at the edge of the water and let it wash up onto her feet. It was calming, especially under the moonlight, to listen to the sound of the waves, to feel the warm breeze teasing her face.

Slowly, her shoulders slumped, and she dragged her knees to her chest so she could rest her forehead on them. Every protocol teacher she had ever had would have had seizures had they seen her undignified position, but for once, she could not bring herself to care. She was too tired to think clearly right now. Too drained to run over and over what she was doing, what she should be doing, what she was going to need to do. She just wanted, for a brief moment, to curl up in a ball and let someone else handle this burden. Only for a moment, just so she could breathe, and then she would take it back on her own shoulders.

There was no one else to take the burden, though. No one else who could. It was hers to bear, and so she would bear it.

"Up a bit late, aren't you?"

Ashe jerked out of her indecorous posture so fast she almost broke her neck. Her hand went reflexively toward her sword, but she relaxed--slightly--when she saw that Balthier had managed to sneak up on her, his footsteps muffled by the sand.

"May I?" Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down beside her. She noted, with more resignation than irritation this time, that he was still wearing shoes, and he sat back just far enough to keep the water from getting on them. He had at least removed his vest for the night, leaving on the white shirt underneath it.

Ashe fully expected him to start talking, or questioning her motives, or something, and she didn't know if she had the energy to match wits with him at that moment. So she was surprised and pleased when he kept quiet and simply looked out at the ocean.

She still did not find relaxation, for she kept catching herself glancing over at him. He finally looked at her, and when he spoke, his words were not what she had expected. "I suppose I want, in some way, to save him."

She stared at him for a full five seconds before it dawned on her. "Your father?"

"You asked earlier whether I wish to save or destroy him. I wish to save him. Perhaps from himself, which may well come down to destroying him. We shall see when the time comes."

"Are you scared?" Ashe wished she could take the words back as soon as she said them. Why had she asked that?

"Are you?" Balthier returned mildly. He was looking at her straight on, his eyes strangely intense. Ashe resisted the urge to close her own to avoid his piercing gaze.

"I…" Part of her screamed at her to keep her mouth shut. What good would it do to honestly answer that question, especially to Balthier? She didn't need to tell him, or anyone for that matter. He wasn't always going to be there. They were going to deal with his father, and then he might very well leave. Or he would leave when her throne was restored. Or he would die.

She knew then, quite suddenly, that her biggest problem was not whether or not she could trust Balthier. It was whether or not she could trust herself. Trust herself to keep her distance, to maintain neutrality, especially with Balthier. He had a way of working his way through her defenses, finding tiny chinks and cracks in her armor that she was trying desperately to patch up.

She couldn't afford to open up to him, couldn't afford to even consider getting close to him, not only for practicality's sake, but for her own mental state of being. Anything else was absolutely out of the question. Anything else…can I really not say it, even in my own mind?

She tore her eyes away from Balthier, feeling hot and shaky. She could not sit here. She could not look at him anymore. She could not open her mouth and say, "Yes," but somehow, the word came out anyway. Something inside of her seemed to crack, piercing a hole in her armor. "I'm terrified," she whispered, so quietly she hoped he wouldn't hear.

Balthier was still watching her with that dark intensity. His voice was almost as soft as hers when he said, "What do you fear, Ashe?"

Ashe shook her head mutely. She would not give him that. She would not give him anything else; she couldn't.

She could not give her heart any room to take chances.

Balthier's voice came again, after a long moment, and his words made her wonder if she had somehow spoken her thoughts aloud. No, she was certain she had not. He had to be speculating. "You cannot control everything, Princess."

"I don't need to control everything. You, on the other hand--"

"What makes you think I need to control everything?"

"Does 'I'm the leading man' give you any ideas?"

Balthier gave her an odd little smile, one that she could not quite interpret. "You wish things to happen only on your terms."

"You shall have to be a bit more specific."

"I don't think you're that oblivious. You cannot prevent tragedy from happening no matter how much you wish it. You have no control over what other people choose. You may sometimes have control over who lives and dies, if you are the one making the decision, but you cannot control the choices of others."

"I know that!"

"Do you? So if Basch jumped in front of you, noble knight that he is, and took an arrow in your stead, you would not blame yourself?"

"I--"

"If young Penelo were slain by a couerl, you would not take responsibility?"

"What--"

"If I were to throw myself--"

"Stop it!" Ashe was on her feet, agitated, hands clenched together. "You're not going to die for me! No one is going to die for me!"

"You can't always make that choice."

Ashe dropped to her knees, staring down at the sand. "I…don't want anyone to die for me."

Balthier knelt in front of her and lifted her chin with his fingers. It sent a little shock through her body and she nearly jerked away, but her eyes met his and something in them made her freeze. "I know," was all he said quietly. He brushed his thumb on her cheek, just the briefest touch, before he pulled his hand away and stood. "We all fear something, Princess."

Ashe remained on her knees, completely drained of any energy she had managed to scavenge during her conversation with Balthier. "What do you fear, Balthier?"

His eyes lingered on her. "Many things. Perhaps one day I shall tell you about them."

"Do they include refusal to remove footwear?" Ashe asked resignedly.

That got a chuckle out of him. "No, darling. That is to keep you from attempting to control everything."

Ashe wasn't sure whether to be more bothered by him calling her darling or by his reasoning. "You're keeping your shoes on because--"

"You want everyone to relax, but it has to be on your terms." Balthier smiled that coy little smile of his. "But you cannot control whether a person keeps their shoes on anymore than you can control the choices they make about how they live--or die." He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Good night, Princess."

She watched him walk back toward the camp, then closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. He was right. She knew he was right; she knew she couldn't control the choices other people made. She could, however, choose her own path, choose what she would do with her life. With her mind. With her heart.

Her eyes opened and went back to Balthier just in time to see him reach the camp and lie down on his blanket. She thought of his eyes, of the horribly irritating way he had of pinpointing things about her that she did not want to admit.

She thought of how he could leave, how he could die. She quietly rubbed her finger across her cheek, where she could almost feel his thumb, and then her hand dropped to her ring.

She swallowed hard and wondered if she really had any choice at all about what chances her heart took.