A/N: Very excited that I got some reviews! Thanks for that :)

I enjoyed writing this chapter. In terms of standard it could probably be better and I may make alterations at a later date, but I still liked writing it. Hope you enjoy it too. As always, praise and constructive criticism are welcome.

3. Ocean Song

3 months later, the Phon Coast

She sat alone on the shore, watching the waves lap the sand tenderly, lovingly. Once again the pair had succeeded in plundering a supply ship and Balthier was busy counting their riches. Usually she'd join in, but tonight, for some reason, she felt the need to get out.

She listened to the sea, but she could not hear its words. This did not phase her, as she was not born of the ocean. But she could not hear the song of the earth either. For nearly fifty years this had barely plagued her. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight she remembered.

It did not make sense to her why tonight she should remember all she had left behind, and it was beyond her why now she mourned it, yet as she watched the sea stroke the shore it reminded her of the relationship with the Viera and the wood, the way one was so gentle and calming while the other remained harmless yet unmoving. They belonged with each other.

A part of her wanted to add her salty tears to the sea, but she knew she couldn't. She had come too far to cry. She had seen so much in all her years, and had spent more than half her life outside the wood… away from her home and her family. She could not break now. She was free. Wasn't this life better than one of stubborn, sheltered pride?

"Enjoying the scenery, are we?"

At first, she did not turn around to look at Balthier, but as he drew up beside her she turned her head to face him. She quickly adjusted herself so he could not see the sadness in her eyes.

"The salt air does make me feel most alive," she answered. It was not a lie; the strong stench of salt most certainly aroused her senses, although in a harsh way. So far from the soft aromas of the wood…

"I should imagine it does," he commented, "Quite a smell. I would've thought it displeases the Viera."

He's smarter than he lets on, she thought.

"Sometimes the senses need awakening," she replied vaguely.

"And I always thought your senses were sharp enough," he said, shaking his head, "You Viera are most mysterious creatures, you know that?"

She did not reply. The quip about her senses only reminded her how she could no longer hear the green word. Her senses were still sharper than that of a hume, but they were not as sharp as they should be. She felt impure. Dirty. Contaminated.

Noticing her lack of words, he sat down beside her on the silver-white sand and also stared out across the waters.

"Something troubling you?" He asked, so gently you'd think he was afraid the words would hurt her.

For a while, she still did not give him an answer. Finally she whispered in a barely audible voice, "It is nothing."

"Everything is something," Balthier challenged. "And if it provokes such a change in you that a Hume can perceive, this 'nothing' you speak of is indisputably a particularly bothersome something."

She wished for a moment that it really was so easy for him to read her. She had always been fond of the way Humes did not have to speak their woes, for their eyes would sing the story. A part of her wanted to turn to look at him to see what danced behind his own hazel eyes, but a part of her was afraid. She did not like to be read, even by one she had grown to trust. Was she ready to tell him?

"I… wish not to speak of it," she finally answered.

Silence followed her words. The two remained on the sand, watching the ocean soothe the realm with its tuneless, rhythmic lullaby. She closed her eyes and listened to its song, even though she could hear neither its lyrics nor melody. She knew it was sympathetic. She was half-tempted to remove her heels and stride out into the shallows, allowing the calm waters to caress her skin and relieve her homesick heart… but she could not.

She sensed him standing up and wandering a little way down the shoreline before coming to a halt and speaking again.

"It's a pleasant night," he commented, "I wouldn't mind taking a swim right now; the sea is calm enough."

"Indeed," was all she said in reply, opening her eyes again and staring across the ocean.

"The skies are quiet too," he continued, "I do love sleeping aboard the Strahl when the nights are as peaceful as this. It harbours a safe atmosphere."

"A child to his crib," she stated blankly.

"Well that's certainly one way to put it," he said.

Again a silence descended upon them. The Viera fell back onto the sand and stared up at the velvety dark of the night sky.

"For many years did I rest beneath the stars," she sighed, "So that way it would remain, I believed, until with piracy I meddled."

Balthier glanced at her, although she did not meet his gaze. She continued to stare into the sky, watching the constellations, bright and clear against the black night.

"Though I value the warmth of sky ships… I welcome the night skies."

She knew he was waiting for more. She knew he wanted to hear tales of her days in the wild, listen to her stories and develop an understanding of her. But she remained silent. Eventually she felt him flop back onto the sand beside her.

"The sky really is full of wonders," he said, "Although it is a prison such beauties as the stars cannot escape from, it has provided me with all the freedom I need; the freedom to fly wherever my desires take me. It is truly the high life, would you not agree?"

There was another pause before she answered him.

"I too cherish my freedom," she explained.

They were silent once more, both staring into the heavens, merely enjoying the song of the waves and each other's company.

"You are clever with your words," Balthier finally said, speaking more slowly than normal, "You may think that I'm slow on the uptake, but I've noticed you do not always answer my questions directly."

She turned her head to face him and saw it: genuine concern blazing behind his eyes. For a moment she felt her defences weaken; for a moment she knew he could search for the answers her tongue would not betray in her eyes. But before he had the chance to interpret the story hiding there she adjusted again, replacing the mask on her face. She watched him, holding his gaze. As always, he was the first to look away, turning his head back to the night sky.

"I know this is a professional partnership, Fran," he continued, "But I would like to consider us friends too. After all, partnerships need trust." She knew he could feel her eyes on him. He paused for a moment, then sighed. "What I'm saying, Fran…"

He trailed off. She waited. He sighed again.

"What I'm saying is that you may talk to me should you ever feel the need," he finished, making to get up.

She watched him for a moment, then almost to her surprise as much as his, her slender arm shot out and a clawed hand grabbed his wrist lightly.

"Stay a while longer," she pleaded.

For a moment much like many of the others they had shared tonight, he did not react. Now curiosity combined with the concern in his eyes. But then he smiled.

"Certainly."

The pair lay in comfortable silence, watching the stars.