Bored... short drabble.

The Love of a Parent

Balthier looked back at the form of his sleeping son in Fran's arms and sighed. The hardest part of pirating, that was what this was. Knowing from the very first time they had found out, that children would not be able to ride with them, nor could they settle down and just take care of him; that was even more dangerous with the price that was on their heads.

The man continued to watch the child, unsure of what to do next. He wanted this child. He really did, but what would he have done if he did raise the child and had to watch it die? Or vice-versa? That couldn't happen; he himself knew what it was like, to have to watch your father die, unable to do anything but watch.

The child sneezed, but did not wake up. Though, it was fair enough; he hadn't had much sleep. They had dept him up all night. He had been rather hesitant then as well, taking his time to strap on baby clothes, and wrap the blanket around him, craddling his head in his arms, gently, but hesitant was not the lead man.

Shaking his head, he decided that, just this once, the leading man didn't matter; it was the child, and brushing his hand over the white-silver fuzz that was the child's hair, he realized how hard this was, thinking to himself of running away from this forever. After all, this was going to be hard, but it was nessissary. Right?

He picked the infant up softly, wrapping the tiny blanket tighter around him, and knelt down in front of the wooden door before him. Preparing himself to put the child down and walk a little ways away, far enough that the owner of the house wouldn't see him, but close enough that he could also keep an eye on the child and his shot to be unheard.

The memory of the night before came flodding back in his mind. The way the child had looked at him for the first time had captured his heart, and he had made the mistake of letting his heart and emotion run wild for this kid. His kid. Fear had swept through him when he had realized what he had to do. He had silently and privately cried for a few hours, until he had crept to his chair in the cockpit, and allowed himself to sleep for a while.

Baltheir realized that he was still staring at the infant in his arms, Fran behind him waiting in quite a bit of pain. Letting out a choked sob, he set the child on the snowy-white ground- ice cold, even the walking stones that made up the road had been frozen over- and turned to leave, wrapping his arm around Fran's waist to support her. He pulled her behind a building, and helped her sit down, then ran off again without a word.

Stepping around the corner of some building that looked rich- made of what appeared to be flawless marble- he dropped to the ground at the sight of a guard, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He began to crawl across the snowy, ice-covered walking stones. His middle freezing as he eased off the ground, he got up and began a stealthy sprint away from the armored man. His right hand reached for his gun before he found another guard, and pressed himself against the wall.

He was confused now; something had to have happened, but he was not the one who did anything. This town had just a little stop to drop his son off... and leave him. He had done nothing else, and he could think of no one else who could have done anything. Unless they had found Fran, and recognized her.

Panick began to well up inside him; his heart almost stopped. Taking another route to get to the woman, he ran down a road crowded with dosens of crates, stopping dead in his tracks as an infant's howl peirced the air around him. His head began to spin as he realized what he was doing... again. His head snapped to one side, then the other- a street on each side of him- then jogged back over to the baby boy. As he approached the squalling baby, the wooden door beside him opened.

"Who the hell are you?!" the groggy looking man asked, a burning candle held in his right hand. He glared at Balthier, making the other man take another step toward his child. Instinct. "Well?Answer me!"

Balthier stayed silent as he grabbed the flailing child, holding him to his chest. Leaving the child with a stranger seemed like a bad idea now; after meeting the man in front of him, anyway. The man had a scar runnig from his left cheek to mid chest, the discolored skin seemed to tell stories of a wild and rough life; his eyes gave off the look of someone who had abused people, and was abused himself. A murderous glint as well.

Balthier turned and headed down the street, stopping only when he reached the spot he had left Fran, and sighed with relief to find her still waiting. She called his name, but he barely heard it, consentrating only on getting his family out. The thrill of danger didn't matter anymore, nor did the lead man himself, all that matter to Balthier Mid Bunanza right now was escaping with Fran and their baby.

As they neared the ship, Balthier erged Fran to run, and dispite the pain, she did. They climbed onto the ship with a great deal of haste, and took care of her part. Only then did Balthier let the child go, placing him in his mother's arms. He got into his chair, and began to slowly coax his ship into the air, sweat running down his forehead.

The ship began to emerge from the trees and leave outside of the town it was hidden beside. Turning it around, away from the shouts and armored boots rushing for it, it began to move at a medium speed; not too fast, so that it wouldn't hurt the baby. Still, it wasn't too slow either.

When they had safely made it out, Balthier looked at Fran holding the boy, and slowed the ship further. Smiling as his eyes darted over to the baby ever so often, watching it. Once, as he watched, the baby yawned, and, not able to cover his own mouth, looked adorable. His red-violet eyes darted from Balthier to Fran, blinking every now and then. His expression looked like Fran's, interested, yet not appearing so. Serious.

Just as the sky began to light up a bit, and their infant son had drifted back off, he landed the Strahl in a forrest. Though he grew tired of all the snow, they needed to rest. He was tired and so was Fran, and the baby was bound to sleep at least a while, seeing as how his mother had fed him not too long ago.

Balthier got up and grabbed his son, walking off to find more clothes for him, as the others had been damp from the baby's meal. As soon as he had pulled the light blue baby shirt, he kissed the boy and wrapped the blanket back around him before laying the child on he and Fran's bed in the back room. He slipped his shoes off in a dazed state; he'd almost given away that same bundle that lay sleeping by Fran's side. As he lay down beside them, he pulled the blanket over himself, then pulled it over his son, kissing the child's tiny fingers, pulling him closer. Who would have thought that he would feel so much about this- this child.

He brushed his hand over Fran's side as a form of silent thanks, letting his hand drop seconds later. Feeling uncomfortable with his normal clothes still on, he couldn't move to take them off, as he was still comfortable. Strange situation, this one. He didn't have the energy to pull away from his child again anyway, so he stay.

Finally finding his voice, he murmered, "Cidolfus," to the child, "after a man who was once as good as any other." Watching the child breathe for a while, until he drifted off himself, tired from the earlier events of leaving and chasing down the joy he almost didn't feel, and for the first time in a long time, he slept without a nightmare. Instead, an older man, light brown hair- short- with glasses looked down at him with eyes filled with adoration and thank, and more importantly, love.

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As I said a drabble. Just for fun. I rather think Balthier would make a good parent, and so does my friend who told me he could live off his father's mistakes, but that "Basch would probably be too emotionally scared for something so gentle"...

Enjoy.. R&R