A/N: Wow, you have no idea how uplifting it is to log onto your email after a really long day to find I have a tonne of emails from telling me so many people have reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. Thank you so much!

This isn't the original chapter 7; it was initially going to be a oneshot, but I liked it better than the chapter 7 I initially wrote for this story. I hope you think it's okay :)

Also, I'd like to try something similar to a writing challenge that I used to do with a couple of friends, but I need your help. Visit my profile page for details. It would mean a lot if you could help :)

Reviews make my day, so feel free to give me any kind of feedback, be it constructive criticism or praise ^.^

7. Comfort

The Strahl

She'd promised him this wouldn't take her long. She'd insisted he went to bed and leave her to it. After all, his constant yawning had been getting somewhat irritating, and the rings around his eyes showed just how exhausted he was. She'd told him "I'll finish this. You must rest; exhaustion does a man no favours". Finally, when he was barely able to keep his hazel eyes open, he had stumbled off to bed, leaving Fran to finish annotating the diagram spread across the table. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; the diagram had appeared to be almost complete. But it seemed the more she filled in, the more she had to do. Staring at the lines and sketches only made them blur. She could feel her head falling ever closer to the table, her eyelids getting heavier as the crimson eyes behind them ached with tiredness.

*

The world was dark, as if under the veil of night. She recognised where she was immediately; this was the Paramina Rift. It did not seem strange to her that she couldn't feel the cold; she didn't even think about it. She stalked down the snow-coated mountain through the blizzard that whirled around her. She found herself in the Frozen Brook, and all around she could see many other viera, all doing various activities. On closer inspection, she could see that they were all her. One was sewing, creating what appeared to be a tapestry of the wood, yet the trees were black and dead and the path was blood-soaked. Another was strumming a lute with many broken strings, although Fran could not hear its sound. Yet another version of her appeared to be playing with toys commonly seen amongst hume children, yet every toy she picked up would somehow break.

Fran tried not to look at them. She didn't want to see them. But every way she turned her head, she could see another one, each more unnatural and twisted than she last. Still she did not feel the blizzard on her skin.

Choose your path, child.

She looked around, taking in each of the viera in the brook. She knew she had to get out of here. The other versions of herself were disturbing… frightening. She didn't want to see them anymore, or be anywhere near then. She could not turn back; back lead to the wood, where she was no longer welcome. She looked for a way out… any way. But the other 'Frans' were blocking the pathways… all except for one. She marched forward, seeing the path clearly, knowing this was the way she had to go. But as she ascended, something rose from the ground. It was not another horrifying, twisted viera; it was the man whom humes had chosen to represent Death; the Grim Reaper. She stopped dead at the sight of him, his black cape billowing in the wind of the blizzard, hollow eyes staring, blank and cold, the skull mouth neither smiling nor unsmiling.

"You know that I will never allow that," he whispered, although the voice seemed to be all around her. "He will be mine, foolish child…"

For the first time she glimpsed someone familiar, Balthier. He was huddled on a rock against the cliff face behind the Grim Reaper, gazing straight ahead. She felt herself panic.

The Grim Reaper laughed softly, sinisterly, pulling an hourglass from thin air. Fran could see the sand was flowing too fast. She tried to run past the Grim Reaper, past him to Balthier… but…

The blizzard around her whirled, whistling, cackling evilly at her, blinding her to the world. And for the first time, she truly felt its cold arms encasing her...

*

For a moment, she was too paralysed with fear to even open her eyes. A dream, she reminded herself, You were dreaming. It's over. You'll be fine.

But something told her she would not be fine. The image of the Grim Reaper stealing Balthier from her was fresh in her mind. The other viera, twisted and disturbing, still terrified her. She knew that dreams like that had to mean something, but she did not want to think about what any aspect of it could have meant. Not knowing what to think or feel, she simply stayed where she was, the shock and fear running through her like electricity.

And then she felt arms sliding around her, warm and comforting, and she was lifted ever so gently from where she had fallen asleep. For a moment her heart lurched in panic, but then the faint smell of sandalwood and cinnamon, masking the slight scent of engine oil, told her that it was Balthier. She forgot about her dream for a moment; Balthier was not huddled on the Paramina Rift, about to be stoled by Death; he was here, on the Strahl, holding Fran in his arms. She inhaled his scent as subtly as she could, silently wondering how he managed to smell so pleasant when most sky pirates she'd met simply stank of oil and metal. Perhaps he made a conscious effort, believing that oil was not an appropriate smell for the leading man. She decided that it didn't matter; what mattered was that his scent was calming, almost comforting.

Eventually she felt herself being lowered onto a bed and a blanket being pulled over her. Part of her wanted to ask him why he was awake, but a larger part of her told her she need not know or care. She felt him sit beside her and stroke her hair gently. She did not say anything, or even hint that she was awake; she simply let him, feeling comforted by his tender touch.

After a while, he finally withdrew his hand from her hair and rose to his feet. For a moment, nothing else happened. Then he moved to the door.

"Sleep tight, Fran," she heard him whisper, before opening the door as quietly as possible and sliding out.

She fell asleep almost instantly. This time, her sleep was not haunted by the twisted viera of the Paramina Rift; instead she strolled through warm, colourful meadows, Balthier at her side.