Author's Note: I am such a bad person. I've spent the last three nights role playing (role playing) when I should have been completing "The Genocite Dagger". A pox upon me! (Well, not really.) Also, speaking of other stories I've written, it's shameless product placement time! Not so much, actually. Just if any of you are interested in and action/adventure/romance story by yours truly featuring the roguish sky pirate, you can check out my other Final Fantasy XII chaptered story, "The Genocite Dagger". Yes, there is an original character in it. Don't worry, she doesn't suck. Also, on the horizon from me is another Balthier/Ashe one-shot, and a Larsa/Penelo one-shot. Be seeing you, and thanks again for reading!

"Body Ache"

Ashe's extremities reeked with pain. She could feel it in her veins, from the top of her head to the tips of fingers, coursing violently throughout her whole body. A steady ache pounded beneath that like a drum, dictating and directing the flow of the pangs. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. She saw only black, and heard nothing but a constant ringing that sounded like a siren that never ebbed.

After a few minutes in the agonizing din, the pain she felt steadied and regressed to a dull, insistent nag. Her head felt cloudy and ethereal, and a soft feeling hugged her body. Eyes slowly fluttering open, slivers of disturbingly brilliant white light seeped between her lids. The vibrant pinstripes stung and she barely forced herself to keep opening her eyes. When they adjusted to the brightness, she found herself in a familiar room.

"The Strahl?" she whispered, her voice a distasteful croak. Glancing around, the room remaining an amorphous mass of ivory shapes, she felt a familiarity even in the feeling of the blankets. Looking down to see her chest bandaged, she came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive.

Satisfied with the knowledge, she leaned her head back into the pillow, smiled a bit, and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

Having lost all perception of time, Ashe could only assume she awoke hours later in a daze. Despite the dull ache in her body, no doubt offset by drugs, she noticed how absurdly soft the pillow – usually so stiff – felt. Reveling in the drab cotton blankets, she lay motionless, merely enjoying the simple act of breathing.

A rasp on the door awoke her from her reverie. Fran did not wait for a reply before entering and shutting the door behind her, a potion in one hand. Looking over, she grinned slightly. "You are awake."

Ashe nodded, and voiced her question. "How long have I been asleep for?" The sound of her own voice was ghastly, having been reduced to an arid, hoarse crackle. She suddenly felt how dry her throat was, and became desperate for the potion the viera held in her palm.

"Six days," Fran's heavy accent soothed Ashe, helping to cushion the news. "When we found you, you were nigh dead."

She brought the potion to Ashe and uncapped it, holding it to her lips. She drank gratefully, enjoying every last drop. When she finished, she felt like a baby as Fran wiped her lips, but ignored it. Instead, she asked, "Basch?"

Placing the lid back on the bottle and putting it on the nightstand, Fran replaced Ashe's disheveled sheets. "He is alive and as well as can be expected. He is asleep now, but awoke some hours before you did."

Ashe sighed in relief. "Thank the gods."

"Indeed," Fran echoed. "You are most definitely in their favor."

Ashe smiled and turned the conversation to business. "The mission failed, then?"

The viera shook her head. "Vaan was able to allocate a second route and procured the map without incident. I believe you'll be quite pleased with it."

"A lot of good it shall do," Ashe remarked bitterly. "I'm not in any order to help the resistance for quite a while."

Fran regarded her sympathetically. "With proper rest, you should heal quickly."

"My injuries?" Ashe asked.

"Much internal bleeding," Fran told her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "As well as two cracked ribs and one broken. Besides that, it was mostly bumps and bruises. However, had we not found you when we did, you'd have had little time left."

"I thank you," Ashe said, and she meant it.

Fran nodded. "Thank Penelo, for it was she who found you." With that, she rose and left the room. Ashe, lying back in her bed and staring at the ceiling, made a mental note to repay her debt to Penelo for both her and Basch's sakes.

"Basch…" she mumbled, suddenly overcome with worry. Fran had said he'd awoken and was well, but she wondered if he remembered what had happened in the waterway. Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought, first of embarrassment, then of anger. Of course she could hardly be angry with him; he was so devoted to duty, and had merely assumed what anyone on his position would. Still, she couldn't help but feel that he sounded condescending.

She knew now that she had acted out of desperation. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she supposed near-death did that to you. Still, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Something about kissing Basch had felt oddly… right, and her fists clenched with the knowledge that he hadn't kissed her back. She knew he had been doing the proper thing, not taking advantage of her. But it wouldn't have been taking advantage of her, would it?

Disregarding her frustration, Ashe brought a numb hand to her lips. Running her fingers over them, she knew that they were chapped and dry. Had they been that way when she'd kissed him? She hadn't noticed the texture of his lips either, then. She'd hardly noticed anything, since all her senses were overwhelmed with the presence of blood. Irate, she knew she had wasted that chance.

But she was alive, wasn't she? She could now have a second. For all she knew, Basch was in the next room, resting peacefully. She felt resolve form somewhere within her, demanding she get up from the bed and go find him. What would she do then? Of course she knew: she'd get exactly what it was she wanted. And what she wanted was Basch fon Ronsenburg.

Cursing the heavens, Ashe knew she was in no condition to go gallivanting around in a lustful search for a dying man. Brows furrowed together in irritation, she closed her eyes tightly and realized the pillow now felt just as stiff and rigid as it had before. Calming herself, she came to the conclusion that she'd wait a few days, knowing full well that neither her nor Basch were going anywhere.

Feeling the potion beginning to take effect, a haze slowly crept into the corners of her mind. Eyelids suddenly heavy, she reluctantly let them drift closed, and decided to pay a visit to the captain much, much later.