Disclaimers: I hold no rights to Final Fantasy XII and all that hubba-balloo.

A/N: So this little one-shot just struck me like lighting as I sat drawing in my room one day. I've been mulling it over for a couple of nights now, and I couldn't help but to put it down. I have no idea whether you'll enjoy it as much as I did. :p Hope you like it, and don't forget to review. :D


The Reason Why


He was childish.

He was lazy.

He was ignorant.

And he was naive.

But something about that made him gleam, something about that made him special. She couldn't fathom why. He was plain to the core, no more extraordinary than herself, and he stuck out about as much as a rock on the road... and yet he captivated her. She hated being away from him.

But why? If only she knew.

Was it because he was brave? No, and she couldn't help but reprimand herself a little. She was mistaking his foolhardiness for fearlessness. He did as he pleased for the thrill of the moment, the release of freedom. It annoyed her, it waned at her patience–

And yet it was devilishly charming.

He alone, among a city of men, had dared to dream. He alone tasted the fretful waters of liberty and danger, and had gotten them both enveloped in the tide of destiny. Because of him, her eyes had been opened to the world.

"I'm going to be a sky pirate, just you wait."

She had grown up hearing him say things like that, because he had always been like that: mind open to the possibilities, without a care in the world. It had sounded stupid, and silly, and childish, and, oh, so him. But it made her smile, because it had given them both hope for something more. That should have been enough.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't until she had been kidnapped.

It wasn't until she had been alone.

It wasn't until he had scoured the skies and braved the Lhusu Mines of Bhujerba. Not until he had stormed the Dreadnought Leviathan. Until he had risked life and limb, and had put everything on the line just to save her, to bring her home again.

All because he cared.

That was the only explanation. The others owed her nothing, and had thus gained nothing for her rescue. But she knew. She knew it had been him who had convinced them, who, with his colorful assortment of (oh so charming) naivete, had coaxed them into the foolhardy attempt.

And he had proven himself to be bold. He had not recoiled from the dangers of their quest, but had stood tall and fought bravely, all for the righteousness of the ordeal and the justice and courage it called for.

That, and the adventurous thrill it embodied.

He was not a boy, but a man who's (ridiculously enthusiastic) courage had been like a beacon of hope in the most trying of times. He had been there for her, always, and she knew he would never leave her side. That wouldn't change.

He didn't have to say it: it was painfully obvious in the way he smiled at her, in that cocky little strut he adopted to impress her whenever she came by. He had been that goofy way since they were little, and it was enough for her.

"Penelo?"

And there was always the way he said her name.

"Are you daydreaming again?"

The way he spoke each syllable with loving tenderness that only she seemed to notice, that was meant only for her.

"No, I'm not Vaan. What're you–? Stop!"—she couldn't help but giggle—"You know I don't like being tickled! Vaan, stop it!"

She would follow him into the worst perils and protect him (even from himself); Archadia's wrath would be nothing compared to hers. She would stand by him, always, because he had done so for her.

And that was the reason why.