Have you ever wondered what would happen if Dr. Cid hadn't died? I certainly have. Cheesy as it may sound at the moment (especially with that terrible summary that I have to replace as soon as I come up with a better one), this tale does in fact include a living Dr. Cid a little more than three years after the freeing of Dalmasca. Also, it's only fair to warn you that there is a main character that is an OC, although she will not be "paired up" with another character. If you're not into that kind of thing, it'd still be great if you at least gave the first chapter a shot.

This will contain small moments of BalthierxAshe, although it is most certainly not the main focus of the story. VaanxPenelo will be hinted on occasion as well. No other pairings will be involved…for now. :)

I hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Final Fantasy XII universe. That all belongs to Square-Enix. I do, however, own my little OC!

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::Old Friends::

Four hours to go.

The words rung through Balthier's mind as he landed the Strahl in Archades' Aerodome. After each hour passed by, he would silently curse himself for accepting to attend Larsa's birthday ball. The young emperor was turning sixteen--a big deal for Archadian rulers. At that age, they would have to begin searching for a wife. The poor kid didn't want to at all but no amount of negotiating with the Senate would get them to change that rule.

However, it wasn't the fact that Larsa was sixteen that made Balthier regret coming. No, it was far from that. It was the guests. And not just some of the guests; all of them. They were nearly all money-obsessed Archadian gentry, self-obsessed royalty, and work-obsessed scientists. Not only were the people disgusting, but they made it so damn tempting to go around and steal from them all. Gil was short these days and it required a lot of restraint to get Balthier and his Viera partner nottosteal from a group of completely arrogant Archadian upperclassmen.

"It is too late to turn back now," Fran said, reading him perfectly as always. "You gave him our word."

"Yes, yes, I know," Balthier grumbled.

Before exiting the ship, the two sky pirates slipped into their own small rooms to change into more suitable clothing for a ball; Balthier into a neat black suit accessorized, as always, with his many pieces of stolen jewelry and Fran into a simple black gown. As they emerged from their respective cabins, Balthier took a moment to flirtatiously smile at his partner.

"You look quite stunning this evening."

Fran ignored his compliment. "I simply cannot see how Hume women can wear these gowns. They are much too loose and provide absolutely no protection anywhere."

Balthier chuckled as he saw the faint outline of a few pieces of Fran's armor underneath the dress. It was amusing how she never once complained about pain, weather, or even Vaan's juvenile antics. The one thing she did complain about – although it wasn't often – was Hume clothing.

As they exited the Aerodome and walked through some of the lesser Archadian streets, they were met with a wave of homeless citizens. Balthier was honestly shocked by the sheer number of them. He didn't expect the war to have done so much damage, not to Archades. The city had always seemed to be unfazed during times of crisis. The rich carried on working and shopping, the poor continued stealing, and the people in between just kept trying to climb up to higher ranks. But not now, it seemed.

Most of the homeless stayed to themselves, huddled up against a wall or in an alleyway. Others, mainly the orphans, were performing in the street, making a sad attempt to earn money. His mind flitted back to Rabanastre during the war three years ago. It was just like this, only a bit worse. There was war on the horizon back then, after all.

A thought struck him: Had he caused this? They had killed so many Imperials on their journey with Ashe. He had avoided considering that they were humans with families as well, but it had always plagued him in the back of his mind, although severely muted by other trivial problems. Did he just create more situations like what Vaan and Penelo had to go through?

He mentally slapped himself, once again casting the thoughts away. It seemed that the only time he thought about things like this was in Archades. It was one of the reasons he had left the city in the first place. There were too many problems. You couldn't turn a corner without worrying about some issue that you overheard a streetear talking about. He was a sky pirate, anyway. Why should he care?

"Do you suppose he'll have some appetizers when we arrive?" Balthier questioned, desperate to distract himself with something. His stomach did feel rather empty anyways.

"Perhaps," Fran said. "Knowing Larsa, he has probably prepared the whole kitchen for us. He has always been overly generous."

"Well as long as he offers food and maybe even a bath, I'll be content," Balthier said.

They continued to walk in silence and still didn't exchange a word as they boarded a taxi. It wasn't unusual for them to go for such a long time without conversation—there had been whole days that had gone by without them saying more than a few words to each other—but at the moment it gave Balthier an unsettling feeling. He finally concluded that the feeling was aroused from the city itself and nothing more.

As the small airship's doors opened when they reached the palace, the thieving duo stepped outside. Balthier stared up at the grand building that loomed above him and frowned.

"Well, here we go."

-----

Larsa Ferrinas Solidor had been kindly excused from all duties by the Senate today. Saying that this was a rare occurrence would be an understatement. It was all because today he was sixteen, although he would rather it have been his fifteenth birthday again. In emperor years, sixteen meant he was practically full-grown, and being full-grown meant having to find a spouse. It wasn't that he didn't want to ever get married--he most certainly did if he found the right person. But to be forced to be wed to a near stranger? It would only create tension and unhappiness for the emperor and, in time, perhaps even his people.

"No wonder all the past children came out to be so insane," Larsa mulled to his most trusted companion, Judge Magister Gabranth, who was in fact notGabranth but his twin brother.

"You must go into this with optimism, Larsa." Basch removed his horned iron helmet, revealing a scarred face and long blond hair. "There are many potential suitors out there. Not all royalty is bad. You and Lady Ashe are living proof of that."

A faint smile crossed Larsa's lips as he sat back in his gold-covered chair that was beginning to lose its luster from age. "Yes, I suppose. But it feels as though she and I are the only decent ones out there and the Gods know I could never begin to court her. If only…" He trailed off, beginning to frown.

Basch raised an eyebrow. "If only?"

"If only I could choose people other than royalty," Larsa sighed.

Basch grinned. It was much too easy to read the boy when it came to women. "Have you anyone in mind?"

"W-What? No! No, certainly not!" Redness creeped up Larsa's cheeks as he turned away from his guard. After a moment of silence he was able to compose himself and didn't hesitate to change the subject.

"So…when do you suppose our pirate friends will arrive?"

"I would think any moment—"

As if on cue, the tall doors that led to Larsa's private quarters were opened and the infamous sky pirates stepped into the room, clad in ballroom attire. Completely forgetting his previous awkward conversation, Larsa jumped up out of his seat and rushed over to greet Balthier and Fran, smiling from ear to ear. They were the same as always; Balthier witty and confident, Fran quiet and wise. So many things had changed in the past three years that Larsa was almost relieved to see something that had stayed the same.

"You've made it!" he exclaimed. For once the serious façade of an emperor he put up left his eyes, revealing Larsa to be nothing but a teenager delighted to see old friends.

"Of course we have--I'm a man of my word," Balthier replied, smiling back at him. "It seems we have arrived at the right time, too. The socialites are beginning to gather around the palace."

"Happy birthday, Larsa," Fran added.

Larsa's grin only widened. "Thank you."

"I hear that Vaan and Penelo are here as well," Balthier said.

"Yes, but unfortunately they didn't come prepared like you." Larsa shook his head. "I had to send them out shopping."

"Vaan? Shopping for ball attire?" Balthier chuckled. "Let's just hope that Penelo helps him."

Basch grinned. "I'm sure she will."

They all paused for a moment. Larsa took the time to seize the opportunity to make sure that his guests' outfits were appropriate for a ball. Not that he doubted their ability to dress for the occasion, but one could never know when it came to Fran and Balthier. He was relieved to see that Fran's dress was, well, modest, unlike her typical suit of armor and Balthier looked like any other Archadian gentry aside from the jewelry, of course. But Larsa supposed he could let that slide.

"Will Ashe be joining us as well?" Fran inquired, breaking the silence and drawing Larsa out of his thoughts. At the mention of Ashe, his face fell.

"I'm afraid not. She's much too busy with her own matters."

"That's a shame."

Basch nodded, folding his hands behind his back in a customary bodyguard stance. "Indeed it is. She is planning some festivities of her own next month, though, so hopefully we can attend that all together."

At that moment, another set of doors behind his desk opened and a young maid poked her head in. "Lord Larsa? You must begin to prepare for the ball now."

Larsa nodded, instantly transforming back into an emperor. "I apologize for having to leave so soon. Please, order anything you'd like from the kitchen. If wish to go early, the ballroom is on the ground floor. Basch can show you the way. It was a pleasure seeing you again."

Balthier bowed deeply with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. "The pleasure was all mine."

Larsa had to keep himself from laughing in front of the maid. Only those who knew Balthier could tell that he was mocking the upper class.

"Goodbye Balthier, Fran," he said to his guests with an uncontrollable smile. "I look forward to seeing you later at the ball."

"As do we," Fran said, swishing her head to get a stray hair out of her eyes.

Larsa gave them a final wave and walked out of the main room of his quarters. With almost all of his old friends here, nearly all his previous worries and nerves had been quelled. Perhaps the ball wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all. He knew it would at least prove to be a good distraction from the current state of the economy. And that, he thought to himself (although he admitted that it was a bit selfish), was all he needed at the moment.

---

Dr. Cid sat back in his chair, brow creased as he drew various sized triangles across the top of the blank piece of paper before him. It was an old habit of his. Occasionally he would form houses out of the triangles, but today he decided to make mostly hourglasses.

Upon first seeing him absentmindedly doodle, anyone would assume that he was just bored. But soon they would see how hard he thrust the pen on the paper and the intense stare in his eyes. No, if you worked for Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, seeing triangles dotted across his paper was not a good sign. When it came to him, triangles meant that he was angry; a rarely displayed side that meant something had either gone wrong or someone had done something wrong.

Suddenly the door to his small but luxurious office opened. A slender but rather short woman slipped inside the dimly lit room silently, immediately shutting the door after she had entered. The brunette looked tense as she sat down in a less comfortable chair in front of Dr. Cid's desk. Her eyes trailed over his paper and she bit her lower lip as she noticed the triangles.

"You…wanted to see me?"

Dr. Cid leaned forward in his chair, allowing his face to be fully illuminated by the single small window in his office. A long scar ran down the left side of his face, continued down his neck, and disappeared under his clothes, although undoubtedly crossed down his chest. The scar only added on to the angry look he had, and he could see the woman's eyes widen as she saw his caustic glare.

"Do you know why I'm drawing hourglasses today?"

His employee shook her head. "No, sir…"

"Because hourglasses tell time, something which you are obviously incapable of doing."

"I apologize, sir. You see—"

"I don't need an excuse!"

The woman clenched her mouth shut and sat back in her chair. Dr. Cid stared at her for a moment before continuing.

"Now, I do hope you have heard about the newest Solidor's latest event. As usual, the palace will be full of scientists, many of whom used to be my companions." He reached into his pocket as he spoke and placed an invitation to the ball on the desk, "You need to go there, connect with someone who has access to the laboratory, and get them to take you to Draklor some time after hours. I'll take it from there."

The woman slowly took the invitation, reading the contents inside. "I understand the ball but…Draklor? I thought we got everything from there."

"Not quite." As the woman looked up at him, Dr. Cid gave her a sly grin.

"Nethicite?" she whispered, as if saying the word would curse her. "But…sir…it's all dead now. That's why the government allowed Draklor to keep a small amount of it."

"Who says man cannot create something equivalent to that found in nature? I have done it before." Dr. Cid pointed out. "Now go. You've less than four hours until the ball starts. I expect to have a set date for your after-hours visit within a week."

The woman nodded and stood up. She was about to leave the room when he added in a much softer tone, "Oh, and I hear that my…son will be there. Could you…?"

She just smiled. "Of course."