Emergency A/N: WAIT NO STOP! Hold up! If you haven't yet, you need to go back one chapter. After I published it, I thought of a brilliant ending scene. I edited and tacked it onto the end of chapter eight. You should totally go back and read that. I think you'll enjoy it. Or be really mad at me. X] Either way I'm utterly satisfied. Drop me a review and let me know!

It occurs to me that I should clear up some confusion my errors in detail in past chapters have no doubt created. In one of my earlier chapters, Riley says that the half-viera are taken out of the farms and moved to the soldiers' barracks when they turn sixteen. I realize now with everyone's ages that this is impossible, so let's change that to age thirteen. Also, Jonathan is the son of Riley's mother's FIRST mate (duh), not her third—which is what I said in one of the earlier chapters because I forgot it mattered.

Also! Half-viera on the Leviathan are ranked at Lieutenant Commander, which are in charge of a large number of the regular Imperial soldiers. Five regular lieutenants are under them. There is one Commander in charge of ten Lt. Cmdrs. I made all these up just now so if they turn out to be a problem in the future, I'll fix them.

~ Flare

.~*~.

"I'm not scared at all.
No I'm not scared at all.
Of the cracks in the crystal—cracks in the crystal ball."

The trip was over far too soon for Riley. But they were all still together, and the ride had lifted her spirits completely, and best of all they'd come back to Bhujerba. Not Rabanastre. She wasn't sure what all they had to do here, but she didn't care as long as it meant that the ride wasn't over yet. There were still adventures to be had. Serendipity was with her, and the winds of fate had proven themselves. She wasn't worried anymore.

Spinning in little circles, she danced out past the others as they all filed into the Aerodrome lobby. Then something by the front desks caught her attention and she skipped over to where a moogle was standing on the counter. Moogles usually looked all the same, but she recognized this one by his outfit.

"Hey!" she beamed, and she must have started the little guy because he jumped, making a high-pitched squeak that was so cute that Riley was sure her head would explode. She bit her lip and tried not to laugh or squee or anything; she figured they didn't like that. "You're the one who fixes the Strahl, huh?"

"Y-yes…among others." the moogle stuttered, staring warily at Riley's broad grin. His voice was so frikin cute! It wasn't really very high-pitched like she'd expect; it was more light and chirpy. "My name is Nono."

Penelo came into the room with Vaan. Everyone seemed to be branching off into little cliques; Ashe, Basch, and Vossler were together behind them, and out in front, the pirates wandered off ahead. Seeing the chance, Penelo suddenly remembered something she'd been wanting to do. She ran out towards him, taking something from her pocket.

"Balthier!" The pirate turned around to see her holding a white square of embroidered cloth, offering it out to him with both hands. "Your handkerchief—I thought you might want it back."

Balthier looked at her curiously for a moment. Taking the cloth, he dipped a bow, crossing a hand over his heart. "I shall wear it close to my heart," he assured, the slightest hint of a smile playing around his lips. Before she realized it, Penelo was beaming back at him.

Behind them both, Vann watched her with a look of surprise and disgust. Gross! She had a crush on him! That was just his luck—what the heck did she have to do that for? Gross. Tons of awkward in the future—mountains of awkward. …How did he do that?

"Perhaps you forget all Ondore has wrought." Ashe's voice was quiet as she spoke such of the Marquis, almost as if she wished she weren't saying it. But her resolve remained firm; it was so, and she didn't like to trust Ondore now.

But, seeing as she spoke to Basch, Vossler wasn't so sure that it was her stubbornness speaking, rather than any real objection to speaking to Ondore.

"I do not forget, Majesty," Basch answered. "It was by his counsel, dangerous though it may have been, that we were able to free you."

Ashe seemed quieted for the moment; maybe it was because of a growing hope that the Marquis was still a good man. She strongly wished he was…

"You must meet with him, your highness, and give ear to his words," Basch went on, gently but firm—the perfect tone for counsel. "He may act in league with the Empire, but his heart is not."

Ashe's eyes shifted away from hope, though, and took on a detached, suspicious edge.

"It is as he says." Vossler's voice stole her attention. "I ought not have kept Ondore at so great a distance for so long a time. I have…played the fool."

"You were only being cautious," Ashe assured gently. Basch tried not to roll his eyes.

Vossler went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Majesty I would ask you for some time. On our own, we struggle in vain to restore Dalmasca. I must search out some other way." Here, he glanced sidelong at Basch. "Until I should find it, I would have Basch remain at your side."

Ashe's protest was apparent on her face, but before she could say anything, Vossler beat her to it. "Doubt him you may," he almost snapped, before lowering his voice to a meaningful, serious tone, "but I measure his loyalty to Dalmasca no less than mine own."

It took her a moment to reply. She clasped her hands and looked at Vossler, inwardly clinging to her trust of the man. "I know you would not speak so lightly…very well."

Vossler turned to Basch, who met his gaze with an expression that came close to a smile. "Keep her well," Vossler said. "Go to Ondore, and there await my return."

Basch nodded, and they both watched Vossler leave. Ashe had to resist the urge to run after him, and scolded herself for being so childish. But she didn't have to pretend to like all this. 'Curse you, Vossler…curse you for being right all the time.'

"Oh—bye Vossler-guy!" Riley's voice piped up from across the room. She stood on one tiptoe, leaning against the counter for balance as she waved him goodbye. She didn't care that Vossler didn't return her farewell. "Hey Balthier!" she shouted, turning to him instead. "Nono says it takes at least five good skystones to fly the Strahl. That's expensive, dude."

"Really now? Thank you for informing me; I never would have known."

"But he says they last for months at a time."

Balthier was already halfway to the exit, the others falling into step with him. "Amazing. Tell me more about my own ship's design."

"Ah, hahah, you're so witty and clever," she gibed, hopping down from her seat on the counter to come join the group. "You know, sar—Bye Nono. Sarcasm gets old real fast, Balthier."

"Right! I shall haste to the drawing board and dream up some brilliant new material."

"Gah!" Riley gave up and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Behind her, Vaan cut in with a laugh. "Maybe you can tell me about it, Riley. Balthier's too lazy to tell me himself."

Tilting back his head to glare at the ceiling, Balthier exhaled sharply—that kind of almost-sigh of his. "Maybe," he said, stopping to turn and address Vaan directly, "I was too busy."

Vaan stared in blank confusion.

"Ask me later," Balthier finished, turning around and resuming the walk. "When I'm not saving your hide. Tell you all you want to know."

.~*~.

"It is so easy to see dysfunction between you and me.
With every worthless word we get more far away.
But nothing lasts forever."

Back to Ondore's place. That's the last place Riley expected to go. She wasn't too scared, though, cause Basch seemed pretty sure they wouldn't get captured again. Apparently the only way for them all to get free with the princess chick was to get caught. Riley still didn't like Ashe much, but she had new respect for Ondore. It was a really smart scheme. It almost got her sent back to Draklor, though, so she just hoped they wouldn't have to do anything like that again.

She stood looking at the beautiful griffon sculpture in his office while the others talked to the Marquis. She kinda listened in the back of her mind. Ashe was talking right now. She was giving out her backstory to Ondore.

"After Vossler learned my father had been killed the night of the treaty-signing, he returned to Rabanastre, there to aid my escape. There was still time before Vayne's reach extended too far…" Ashe locked her fingers together shyly. "We thought that you could protect me."

Riley tried not to scowl. Was that all the chick ever did was look for strong and powerful men to protect her? Stupid pansy. Riley could teach her a thing or two about the art of evasion. Heck, the pirates could.

Ondore steepled his fingers, pressing them to his lips. They thought about it, but they didn't come to him for protection. He thought he knew now why they hadn't; because of the announcement. "However," he reasoned, "when I then made the announcement that you had taken your own life…I must have seemed a model citizen on the Empire." He looked to her for confirmation.

Ashe dipped her head, halfway between a nod and an ashamed gesture.

"The announcement, you see, was Vayne's suggestion," the Marquis explained. "At the time, I was reluctant, but I could not perceive his reasons. Now it is clear. He meant to drive a wedge between us."

Ashe had been staring at her clasped fingers, but now she raised her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "Halim—we are past all this," she pleaded, drawing his attention. Her companions—all but Basch—marveled that she called the Marquis by his first name. "Bhujerba must stand with us. We can stop Vayne!"

A moment of tense silence followed. Finally, Ondore simply stood from his chair, sighing in a way that only a weary, beaten man breaths. He stared into Ashelia's eyes, searching for the child that lay inside, behind her strong eyes and the set of her jaw. "I once knew a girl…" he muttered, "whose only wish was to be carried in her uncle's arms."

Ashe's silence wearied him more than ever. The child was gone, and she made sure that was clear. His memories and fondness of her were only in the way of the conversation—unless, of course, they would manipulate him to her side. Ondore closed his eyes briefly, drawing a shallow breath. "Your Majesty is a woman grown now."

Snapping right back to business, Ashe snatched the opportunity. "Then Bhujerba will aid me—"

"Suppose for a moment you were to defeat Vayne. What then?" He had interrupted her as he walked, back turned, to look out the window behind his desk. "You cannot simply rebuild your kingdom with the only proof of your birthright stolen. Without that…the Grand Kiltias on Bur-Omisace cannot and will not recognize Your Majesty as the rightful heir."

"You may yet be a princess, but without proof of your identity, you are powerless." Ondore slowly turned around to face her. "You will remain with me—we will do nothing until the time is right."

"I cannot just wait!"

Ondore's tone rose: the very first time she had heard anger tint his voice. "Then what does Your Majesty propose we do?"

"U—Uncle Halim!"

Following was a helpless silence that drew the attention of all. Ashelia and the Marquis stared at each other, neither with any more words at their disposal. Unnoticed by Ashe, Basch was looking only at her, his eyes concerned—almost disappointed.

"Incidentally…" A light and curious voice interrupted the obviously tense moment. Balthier leaned against a nearby table, very aware but careless of the fact that he was speaking from his own little world. "What is the going-rate for rescuing princesses these days?"

Ashelia turned away from her uncle. Slowly, she walked a defeated march from the room. Balthier's voice drabbled on in the background, but everyone else was watching Ashe. She met no one's gaze.

"Food would be a start. The good stuff, mind you," Balthier said sternly, pointing for emphasis.

Ondore answered him. "This can be arranged, though it may take some time."

"Time enough for a bath, I hope. Dirty business, you know..."

Ashelia passed Vaan, who stared after her helplessly. Riley even stared at her. Nobody said anything because there was nothing they could say.

Fran turned her eyes toward Balthier. Though his tone was masked flawlessly in a relaxed tone, he had a look in his hazel eyes that was sharp, cunning, and expertly hidden to all who didn't know him well. Fran sighed softly. None would know, but he was the only one who'd done anything about the hopeless situation—the only thing anyone could do. Diffuse it.

Fran crossed the room and half-sat against the table he was leaning on. Every so often, the man did something that reminded her of all the reasons she would not change him.

"Ah—best bring a change of clothes, too."

.~*~.

"Don't wake me, 'cause I'm dreaming
Of angels on the moon.
Where everyone you know never leaves too soon."

"I wonder what's gonna happen to everyone. Where they're all gonna go."

Riley glanced up from the work she'd been doing on her nails. Vaan was leaning against the gigantic doorjamb, his hands in his pockets, as he stared out at the magnificence that was the Strahl. They were lounging around in the doorway that opened into a huge hangar, where the Marquis had cleared Balthier to dock his airship. After the meeting, everyone had been given guest rooms and food and such, but the two of them were not the type to sit still in their rooms.

Riley was right across from him, the heel of her boot wedged against the doorway. It wasn't really a doorway so much as an opening in the wall. Riley shrugged. "We got a while." She went back to filing her claws to a point, using the file Fran had given her. It was hard work. She was glad to know her nails were tough, though.

"I know, but after," Vaan muttered. "I wonder if Ashe'll be able to do it."

"Well yeah. If nothing else, she's determined about it."

"Mm." Vaan stretched and put his hands behind his head. He looked over at the intricate airship again. "I guess she's gonna try all she can. Basch too, and Vossler wherever he's at." Vossler hadn't got back yet, even though night was falling and it'd been hours. "I'm just gonna hate sitting around in Rabanastre."

Riley didn't look up. "We've got a while," she said lightly.

Vaan nodded, but of course he was still thinking about it. "Wonder where the pirates'll go."

Riley hummed her agreement. The only other sound between them was the wind flowing through the open hangar and the gentle back-and-forth grinding of Riley's nail file.

"I don't think we'll all have to leave each other for a while," Riley finally said.

"How come not?"

She shrugged. "That's what I was worried about last time we were here, but it didn't happen."

"…I don't know if we'll get lucky twice," Vaan said doubtfully.

Riley finally looked up from her nails to pout at him. She momentarily removed her boot from the wall and lazily swung it at his, kicking his shoe a little. "Don't be like that. Be serendipitous."

"Well heck if I could be serendipitous on command I would, but luck doesn't really seem to listen to me." He laughed a little, and Riley grinned in reply.

"…I bet Penelo wants to go home." Riley's voice was quiet and she kept her eyes on her nails.

"She got kidnapped, Riley. She never wanted to leave in the first place."

"She's not kidnapped now!"

"I'm pretty sure she's had enough though."

Riley groaned, tilting her head back so that it cracked against the wall. "Well why didn't she wanna leave?" she whined, looking back his way. Vaan was staring at the Strahl again. "Didn't you say you always dreamed of leaving?"

"Yeah."

"So? She'd let you leave without her? Or she'd anchor you down 'cause she didn't wanna go?"

"She'd come with me. I can't get rid of her."

Riley looked down at their shoes. "You don't wanna get rid of her. Don't say that."

Vaan sighed, nearly a groan. "Of course I don't. It's just…I want excitement, and danger. For me. You know? But I don't want her in danger."

"Oh. You're like Balthier!" she deduced, jabbing her nail file at him.

"Nah," he replied, twisting up his face like he smelled something bad. "He's not worried about any of us getting hurt. He doesn't want us around because he doesn't want us around. It's just his greed is stronger than his grouchiness."

Riley thought back to the Sandsea, and the "appropriated" house they let her sleep in, and the ride over here on the stolen Atomos. "I dunno," she murmured, her tone light. "If he wanted to be alone, he'd get rid of Fran."

"Fran's different."

"So's everyone else then. And Basch. He likes Basch."

"He doesn't like us."

Riley laughed aloud, giving him an "are you stupid" look. "Cause we annoy him, duh! It's fun!" Vaan actually did crack a grin at that and didn't disagree. "And he doesn't like havin' to look after us."

"I don't need any looking after!" Vaan snapped suddenly.

Riley did well to hide her hurt because she understood, and because her pain right then was shallow and pointless anyway. "My point is he worries about us. He doesn't want to, but he cares about some things. He does good things."

Vaan snorted. "Well he doesn't want to, you just said it yourself."

Riley's lips curled into a windy, devilish grin. She couldn't believe how perfect this was. "Does it matter?"

Shocked, Vaan met her eyes, unable to come up with an answer. Understanding well his surprise, she nodded smugly and knowingly.

Suddenly, something close by made a sound like a metallic thud. Both teens snapped into alert, looking immediately towards the Strahl. The two glanced at each other, then back to the ship.

"You hear that?"

"Riley, shut up."

"I heard it again!"

"C'mon."

They ran out along the bridge that stretched out to the door of the Strahl, Vaan's metal-tipped shoes clanging against the metallic surface. He reached the door first and scrambled for the latch. Both of them jumped back to make room as the door opened, then rushed inside, Vaan leading.

Once they were inside, Vaan slowed down, putting out an arm in front of Riley. He put a finger to his lips and they went the rest of the way silently.

The narrow corridor that lead to the cockpit was only wide enough for a single-file line. Riley's boots were easily made silent because most of the floor was wooden—a quality which she loved in the ship. But Vaan's shoes were Rabanastran armor sandals; he had to go slow to keep them from clacking. They made a slow trip down the corridor, which ordinarily wasn't such a long trip, but the suspense was being a jerk. It took forever to get through. Riley had to constantly get on her tiptoes to look over Vaan's shoulder.

Finally they got to the door of the cockpit. Light spilled into the dark corridor. The two rows of chairs that were lined up in single-file on either side of the the cockpit cast harsh shadows across the floor. Clicking sounds came from somewhere up front. As they crept closer, Vaan could just make out a figure sitting in the pilot's chair.

"What're you doing?"

Ashe nearly leapt out of her skin. She spun around in the chair, heart thumping in her throat. But then she saw who it was. Ok…just the kid. Not as bad as she thought, but still bad. She was caught. With a sigh, she turned back around.

"This is Balthier's ship!" Vaan took a step forward, but Riley still couldn't see past him plus all the chairs.

"Who is it!" She danced and skipped around behind him, bobbing her head like a chocobo. But when the person spoke, Riley knew immediately who she was.

"I'm going to retrieve the Dawn Shard. It's the proof that I need." Ashe was already working at the controls, spending most of her time just searching for the right switches.

Riley finally broke aside of Vaan, and incredulously glanced back and forth between Ashe and the door behind them. "She—how did she…how'd you get past us?"

"Riley," Vaan groaned. "Please shut up."

"How'd you get—we were standing in the only entrance!"

"Riley!" He shoved her by the shoulder, causing her to tip over into one of the chairs, letting out a small squeal. Vaan ignored her and advanced on Ashelia, stalking forward. "Ashe—what's going on?"

"I know where it's hidden…" Ashe muttered softly. "I'll return his airship later."

"Are you crazy?"

Ashelia stopped what she was doing, leaning back in the chair. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned on Vaan with blind and infallible determination. "This is something that I have to do. Not only for myself, but for all those who have fallen. I will not be made to hide!"

She huffed impatiently, bitterly, turning back to the controls. "I'll fight alone if I must."

"You still have Basch, right?" Vaan challenged. "Besides, you can't just go around stealing people's ships. What're you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to concentrate!" she snapped, standing up to confront him properly.

"That's quite enough, Your Majesty," said a static-y kind of voice that almost sounded like Ondore.

Riley screamed like a maniac, leaping out of her chair. All eyes turned to the doorway—but instead of the Marquis, there stood Balthier, his arm propped over his head on the doorjamb, with some little device raised to his mouth. "What do you think?" he asked, and the machine translated it into Ondore's voice again. "A bit over the top?"

Balthier waltzed into the cockpit, switching the voice-box off so he could talk normally. "In my line of work, you never know when something like this might come in handy." He raised the device again, peering darkly at Ashe as he said, in her voice this time, "I'm trying to concentrate."

He glanced down at the box, switched it off, and stared right at her. A smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

"Balthier, you freaking weasel!" Riley breathed, clutching her heart. "I could have died!"

"Get off my ship, Pet."

At first, Riley was stunned and indignant. But he glanced at her as he passed by, and she blinked in surprise when she saw the look there. It was sharp and cutting, but…fake.

"Basch was looking for you. Now get off my ship."

Riley gasped in realization; her lips formed a perfect O. She scrambled to her feet and dashed from the room. The sound of her running footsteps soon disappeared.

Balthier walked the center aisle, stopping before Ashe, pointing a finger her way. "I'm leaving you with the Marquis." He turned away, closing the matter for debate.

"You can't!" she protested desperately.

"Trust me—you're better off staying here." He was already ambling back to the door.

But just before he got there, Ashe said, "Suppose you kidnapped me instead!"

Balthier stopped. His head turned ever so slightly in her direction.

"You're a sky pirate, aren't you? Then steal me! Is that so much to ask?"

"…What do you have that I would want?"

"The Dynast-King's treasure." She could have sworn the pirate's ears perked up. He was taking her bait—or thinking about it. "The Dawn Shard is but one of the riches that lie waiting in King Raithwall's tomb."

When Balthier turned around again, there was a smirk playing on his lips. He whistled a low note, one eyebrow sneaking up his forehead. "King Raithwall, you say?"

"Kidnapping royalty is a serious offense." They all turned to see Basch entering the cockpit, still being pulled by the hand by Riley. She moved aside so Basch could come in. He came first to Balthier, offering him a very rare smirk. "It won't do much to lower the bounty on your head."

Balthier grinned back and didn't miss a beat. "How much is the price on your head these days, I wonder?"

Basch had already moved on to Ashe. She locked eyes with him, and could only read sincerity. "Allow me to escort you in Vossler's place."

Silent, Ashelia nodded.

Two more appeared in the doorway; Riley had brought the whole gang, it seemed. Fran entered, leading Penelo by a hand on her back. "Will you be joining us?" she asked, her question apparently aimed at Vaan.

"What? Are you kidding? he laughed, draping his arm over the back of his chair. "I don't wanna stick around this place."

"Then I'm coming too!" Penelo threw herself into the nearest chair, clinging to the armrests.

"Penelo!" Vaan protested, earning a glance from Riley.

"Don't leave me here!"

"…Of course not."

Riley, seeing that this was the moment to do so, walked over and picked the chair behind the pilot's seat. She looked around at the others expectantly, and that was her confirmation.

"Then it's settled. We should leave before the Marquis notices she is missing," Fran said from the doorway. For the very first time, Riley saw a smile turn up the viera's lips. "Like proper kidnappers."

Crossing his arms, Balthier smiled privately. He lived for these precious rare moments when Fran was amused.

.~*~.

"If a great wave should fall,
Yeah fall upon us all,
Then between the sand and stone,
Could you make it on your own?"

She loved it on the upper decks. There was always wind up here, and on days like this, sunlight. And, usually, no Imperials. That was the case today. As she sat hugging the railing, her legs dangling out over open air, she was completely alone. Miles of open sky darted past all around her. The wind tore brutally at her dark brown curls, and the sunlight glared from overhead, stinging the delicate leather-like skin of her ears. Danica loved it this way.

She was a strong-built, broad-shouldered powerhouse of a girl, with long legs, high cheekbones, and thin brown eyes. Her clothes were mostly black or brown leather and metal; the shirt was little more than an iron vest, cut off to show her stomach—and, more importantly, her abs. It showed off every inch available of her tanned, flawless skin and corded muscles—aside from her legs, but the black leather pants were so tight you could see every curve anyway. Her knee-high, armored boots lay cast aside, allowing her clawed toes freedom as they kicked out over the side of the deck. She loved her freedom, naturally, in any small way she could get.

She guessed you could say they had more freedom now…or was it just that they had authority? Anyway. Soon she'd be away from her contingent, leaving it in the hands of her younger sister. Alika was her half-sister, but they were so different they may as well be from different planets.

Danica leaned her head against the railing of the deck, which from this position looked like endless white prison bars. One hand in a fingerless glove scratched at the patch of peeling paint she'd been working on for weeks. Danica sighed, tousling her curly, silken mane to get it out of her face. She had two days left here, then off she'd be chasing down randoms through the middle of the desert. And what about her sister? The kid was so soft. …She almost didn't want to go. Not with that Jon guy, at least. That freak was blind as a bat when he was mad—and he was mad all the time. Mm. At least he looked good when he was mad. And it was very…pleasant, to watch him beating around his Imperials.

She had been aboard the Dreadnought Leviathan for the larger part of a month, coming onto the ship with her sister as the newest assigned halfbreeds to command the growing number of troops. Now, more half-viera would have to be brought in. The Judge, after his well-earned humiliation in losing his important prisoners, was turning to his war-machines to do his work for him. The nearest halfbreeds were being summoned into a search party to regain what he'd lost. In short, Ghis was gathering hitmen. Danica grinned bitterly. It was just like that overblown weakling. Once again it fell to her to make up for her superior's worthlessness.

Danica's black-tipped ears snapped flat against her head when a high-pitched voice sang out over the sound of the wind. "Daaanniiii!"

Danica thumped her forehead on the railing. Yay. Alika.

"Dani!" The smaller girl came traipsing across the deck, running in agile little leaps like a deer. She looked somewhere in her seventeen-ish years, certainly less than her sister of twenty-four. Her apparel were more loose and flowy, sort of like Bhujerban clothes converted into armor. Her features were small, and lithe, with big round eyes and a much lighter complexion than most halfbreeds. Her nose curved upward prettily just like a rabbit. The only feature the sisters seemed to share was their curly, thick hair, though Alika's was more sandy-blonde than brown.

Giggling, Alika crashed into the railing beside her sister, lifting herself up on two hands. "Hey! I knew you'd be here; you're always up here."

"What do you want?"

Alika's smile snapped off her face. She dropped back down to the floor and crossed her arms, pouting at her sister. "It's your shift, jerk."

Danica tilted back her head and groaned, highly exaggerating it. "Gross," she muttered. She took her legs out from between the rails and reached for her boots. Glancing sidelong at Alika, she asked, "How's it goin? They listen to you yet?"

"A little more, yeah. I think it's just cause you're my sister, though…If it was me on my own I'd have nothing." Alika had been taking shifts being in control of Danica's soldiers, in preparation for her full-time position when her sister left.

Danica finished yanking on her boots. She stood up, flipping her hair away from her face. "You gotta be meaner."

Alika scowled at the floor, crossing her arms even tighter. "I know."

Danica stretched her arms over her head, flexing her stiff, muscular shoulders. "Mmf…you gotta fight 'em sometimes—but make sure you win. Watch that Jon guy. He's stupid, but it works apparently."

Alika looked back up, instantly flipping back to being hyperactive. "Oh I saw him today. At the infirmary. He was madder than ever, he nearly killed one of the doctors. Threw him right through the air out into the hallway. What's he mad at the doctors for?"

"It's cause his brother's in there."

"What!" She shouted, nearly making Danica jump out of her skin. "What happened to Ally?"

"Y-you—Ally!"

"What's wrong with 'im?"

"How'm I supposed to know?" Danica snapped. She knew Alika was more involved with everyone around this place, but she never knew she was close enough for nicknames. Danica barely talked to anyone if she could help it. People in general annoyed her. Danica shook her head with a frustrated sigh. She was getting tired of her sister very quickly, as usual.

"I gotta go," she said, turning toward the stairs that lead back into the ship. She resisted the urge to look back. "Practice fighting. And talking less."

Left alone on the windswept deck, Alika stared at the stairs where her sister had disappeared. She didn't like it, but she was worried. Her sister was leaving soon, and the troops would be completely under her control. Danica was right. She'd have to teach them a lesson every so often. Alika shuddered, picturing Jonathan's angry, shadowy form like a giant in her mind. A giant nearly as tall as her sister.

Alika flipped her head away, turning up her nose. Dani always thought she was better than people… She was strong, in both body and mind, but she was angry and alone. Alika wished her sister would at least try to find people she didn't hate. She'd be a lot happier if she met Ally.

Alika's ears drooped sadly. What could've happened to him? She looked down the deck towards the stairs, steeling her eyes. Screw fighting practice. She wanted to see Allan.

.~*~.

"If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave.
Your presence still lingers here. And it won't leave me alone.
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears.
I held you hand through all of these years.
But you still have…haunted me."

"I wanna see Lt. Cmdr. Allan, please."

The doctor, a wiry middle-aged man with a lab coat and a thick bandage on his forehead, stared at her in surprise. Judging by the cut on his head, she figured he'd had a run-in with Jonathan. Alika stood with her hands behind her back, staring with a look of what she hoped was detached authority. Probably she shouldn't have said please. Alika held back her shoulders and, when she didn't get an answer right away, frowned angrily.

"That'd be now. Where is he?"

The doctor nodded in deference and quickly answered, "Right this way." Alika followed him out of the main examination room. She smiled to herself, thinking that he'd probably learned his lesson about disobeying the halfbreeds. The doctor turned down a short white hall lined with doors, and stopped before the third door down. He pushed a button on the panel beside it and the door swished open. Alika had to resist the urge to thank the man; instead, she elbowed past him and strode into the room.

Only after the door had closed behind her did she whisper, "Thanks."

She turned to the one bed occupying the room. Every recovery room in the infirmary was the same: no furniture save one bed and a tiny metal table for medical instruments. Allan was apparently asleep; his eyes were closed and his chest moved with rhythmical slowness. Instead of his regular leather and armor, he was dressed in plain linens. He'd been here a while, then—at least overnight.

Alika danced to the bedside, dropping into a crouch with her hands on the edge of the bed. Only her eyes peeked over. "Hey. Hey Al." She reached out and poked his forehead, drawing a quiet groan. "Ally! You asleep?"

Allan's eyes slowly blinked open. As the haze cleared, the first thing he saw was Alika's face two inches away from his.

Allan jumped up with a shout, his fist flying out without his knowing. Alika squeaked with laughter and she ducked just in time. Her beaming face popped back up as she stood on her knees beside the bed, while Allan started at her wide-eyed and panting.

"Alika!" he breathed, clutching his chest. "I could have died!"

It had been funny at first, but now that she saw his face, her grin fell. "Sorry, Ally," she muttered softly. "I did whisper."

"Ah…um…it's fine…" Allan leaned back against the pillows, shaking his head. He exhaled deeply, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. He laughed quietly, dropping his hands back to the bed. "At least I'm awake now…"

Alika winced. His face was tired and pale, his eyes sunken and rimmed by black circles. He looked even worse than usual. He needed that sleep. "I'm sorry Allan. I gotta go back duty in a couple hours and I didn't know how long you'd sleep for. I really just had to know why you're even in here. What happened?"

Allan's face seemed to become even more weary. "Just…overworked."

Alika stopped babbling immediately. He was lying. She didn't need her powers to tell her that. "Okay," she murmured softly. "But are you alright?"

"Oh yeah—yeah," he assured, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah um…they say all I need's time off and rest. Sucks huh? A guy's gotta collapse around here to get any shore leave."

Alika tried to mirror his grin, but only managed a weak smile. It fell off her face completely when she saw the dark crust that matted his hair at the base of his ears. "Ally I don't know if rest is gonna do it…"

Realizing what she was staring at, he reflexively raised a hand, clasping his ear. He pulled it back and thankfully didn't find any blood on his fingers. "Don' worry 'bout it." He kept looking at his hands, though, to avoid Alika's stare. "They said it's just stress."

She was silent for a long moment, so he looked up. He just barely caught sight of a yellow light leaving her eyes. He gaped at her, watching fear and sorrow twist her face.

"Allan," she muttered, voice wavering. "Oh, Allan I'm so—"

"Leave, Alika."

She squeaked in surprise, jaw dropping open. Allan's eyes were on his hands again, keeping strictly away from her gaze. "A…Ally—"

"I just need to sleep. Please leave."

She cast her eyes downward, hands clasped together, and rose to her feet. She backed up until her back was to the wall, then stopped, daring to look back at him Allan hadn't moved.

"…There's a search team being gathered," she murmured. "They're gonna send them after the escaped prisoners. SR HB-3. One spot left." Alika spun around, pounded the button on the wall, and fled the room.

Alone, Allan took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands. His fingers moved towards his ears and clenched into fists around them.

"If I could, then I would:
I'll go wherever you will go.
Way up high, or down low:
I'll go wherever you will go."

Not a half-hour later, Alika was in her quarters, and there was a knock at her door. Thinking it was most likely Danica, she got up from her desk, quickly hiding the flute she'd been playing in a random drawer. Her sister thought it was stupid for her to play music. She always said if any of the soldiers caught her doing that, they'd respect her even less.

Alika crossed the room and pressed the door-opening button. Her jaw dropped open, delight filling her eyes. "Ally!"

He was fully dressed again: a black shirt under a many-pocketed brown leather vest, which matched the leather cargo pants. A thick strap of iron chain-link crossed his chest diagonally underneath the vest. The only other metal he wore was a pair of shoulder guards, arm-braces, and shin guards. He had washed the dried blood from his hair, and even some color seemed to have returned to his face.

Allan managed a weak smile in reply to her grin. "Hey…uh—what was the name of that squad again?"

.~*~.

He hated that girl. He hated that scrawny little airheaded, bouncy ball of stupid. She had no business involving herself in things she didn't understand. Jonathan had barely ever talked to the little freak, but he'd had a few clashed with her older sister. That chick was annoying, too, but at least she was strong, and had the good sense to keep her stupid nose out of other people's business.

Now, as Jonathan stood at attention in a random meeting room, his commanding officer pacing towards him at his own request, he hated that Alika almost as much as he hated Riley.

Cmdr. Montgomery, a stiff-backed tall figure of a man, stopped in front of Jon, who stared blankly at the man's shoulder rather than meet his eyes. "This better be good, mutt," Montgomery growled, removing his helmet to reveal a black buzz-cut and a pockmarked face with squinty eyes and an unkempt mustache. "I wasn't supposed to be here until noon tomorrow, and here I find myself barked at by my own dog, telling me to come early!"

"The matter was urgent, Commander." Jonathan hated this. He hated keeping back all his protests, hated not being able to glare, hated having to silently endure being barked at and degraded. But Allan had nearly begged him—and, as much as Jon hated begging, he just…frig, he had to. Stupid Al.

"Yeah well, spit it out." The Commander snapped. "I don't like special requests so hurry up."

"It is a request for a recruit for search squad SR-HB-3, sir."

"That so?" Montgomery crossed his arms, surveying Jon with judgmental eyes. "Well you're a little late for that, mutt—the party's full. Filled the last spot this morning."

Jonathan had to work hard to keep his gaze blank. "With respect, sir…my request would be a better choice."

The Commander's brow knitted together, a storm gathering. "Who?"

"Lt. Cmdr. Allan, sir."

"Allan?" he barked, as if that notion was ridiculous. Montgomery's mustache curled upward with his smile. "Why'd I wanna go and replace my perfect new recruit with a sick old dog?"

At his sides, Jonathan's hands curled into white-knuckled fists. He ground his teeth together, almost shaking with the effort it took to conceal his rage. It took every ounce of willpower not to shatter the man's nose.

"With…respect, sir…" he murmured, trying to restrain his voice into a monotone. "Allan is the correct choice for this task."

"Fine. Why is your brother better than my boy?"

"Motivation."

Montgomery stared him down in silence. Finally, he couldn't help but ask. "I'll bite. What's that about?"

"His sister is with the prisoners." Jonathan pointedly excluded himself from the mention of siblings.

At that, the Commander's eyes widened. That was something he didn't know. The smugness fell from his face as he focused on this new revelation. "Well, but that's new," he muttered, almost to himself. Looking seriously at Jon, he continued, "Then by all rights he is the very last candidate to be considered. Matter of fact, you shouldn't even be allowed on this squad—that right?"

"We hate her, sir," Jonathan dared to speak. To his relief, Montgomery actually let him speak. "She is a traitor and a disgrace that shames us. That is the power of our motivation. Allen's determination, and mine own, is to her death or recapture."

Montgomery was silent for a long time. He paced away as he thought, gears grinding in his mind. Jonathan stood in torturous suspense, his muscles aching from standing perfectly still. Finally, his commander's voice came from somewhere to the side.

"Fine."

Jonathan chanced moving his head, looking straight at Montgomery. The Commander was looking his way, so Jon immediately turned forward again. "I'll allow you this, mutt," Montgomery went on, fortunately saying nothing about the lapse in discipline. "Because of your admirable service so far. You're ruthless, Jon, and any brother of yours is bound to be as strong."

Jonathan resisted the urge to snort. Allan was anything but ruthless. But this idiot could think whatever he wanted if it got Allan on the team. "Thank you, Commander. We will not disappoint."

"Now get out and let me be so I can finally get some food," Montgomery snapped, replacing his helmet. "It's noon and I'm starving."

Jonathan crossed his arm over his iron-plated chest and stiffly bent into a bow. He spun around and stalked out of the room as fast as he could without running. He needed to get out quick before he beat his commander into a bloody pulp.

The minute he was out of hearing range, Jonathan released his pent-up rage in the form of a ferocious, bellowing scream. His metal-coated fist swung for the nearest punchable object—the wall. He left a dent at least three inches deep. He hated it—he hated them all! Everyone and everything in this slimy, impossible world conspired to make his life an inescapable torturous misery!

Jonathan ripped his arm from the wall and growled again, turning about quickly in search of anyone he might strangle. They'd all fled when he punched the wall. He took in a deep, shaky breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Geeze. Jonathan had never been so angry about winning something. He didn't know why he'd even agreed to this… Allan didn't need this. All these years she had haunted him, eroding his health and spirit away. And now she rises up out of nowhere and causes a landslide of stupidity that ended with Al in the infirmary. This mission was only asking for worse. Jon didn't really think it would get him killed…did he?

Yes. If he had to, Allen would die for his sister.

Jonathan hated her.

Jon stormed through the ship towards Allan's room, decking many unfortunate Imperials that passed, growling like fierce, dark death the whole way.

.~*~.

"When you're happy like a fool.
Let it take you over.
When everything is out…you gotta take it in.
Oh, this has gotta be the good life—
A good, good life."

Floating high above their heads like a giant metal balloon, the Strahl's timing mechanism kicked in. Almost instantly, the whole ship vanished into invisible air, anchor and all. On the sandy ground below, the party watched the feat with surprise and awe—all but the pirates, of course.

"Whoa…" Penelo breathed. Beside her, Vaan stared with equal wonder, and Riley gaped with an incredulous grin.

"This come in handy often?" Ashelia asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

Balthier half-smiled as he tugged the ends of his shirtsleeves. "It's tough being popular. Wouldn't want any admirers dropping in while we're away."

Riley laughed in gleeful devilishness. "Oh Balthier, you wonderful weasel! I gain new respect for you every day." But then, she was distracted, having caught sight of the rock face they were standing by. A grin curled her lips. It was perfectly climbable…

"Well now," Balthier announced, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "That's as far as she goes. We'll be in Jagd from here onwards."

Ashe turned around, looking toward the path ahead. "Across the Sandsea," she murmured, eyes sweeping the small parts of landscape that was visible over the peaks of cliffs. Her companion's gaze followed hers. "To the Valley of the Dead. And to King Raithwall's tomb below…"

A small squeal followed by devious laughter drew their attention. About halfway up the rock wall, Riley had slipped, but caught herself, and was now dangling by one arm and laughing triumphantly at the cliff. Below her, completely oblivious or just not caring, Vaan was talking to Penelo.

"So, when we're in Jagd, skystones don't' work at all," he lectured. "That's how come we've gotta hoof it the rest of the way. Ya see?"

"Happy you get to teach me something for a change?" Penelo teased with a laugh.

Vaan linked his hands behind his head, not getting it at all. "Well, if you wanna be a sky pirate, you've gotta know you stuff…Wait! What do you mean 'for a change'?"

"Come on. Just face it—I'm smarter than you!"

"Says who? Wanna see what they think about it?"

"I wouldn't be so confident!"

Staying well out of the way, the adults watched. Crossing his arms, Balthier remarked, "At least we thought to bring entertainment."

Riley squealed again, this time followed by a muffled thud.

Though Basch was startled, Ashelia stood still beside him and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. They had a long journey ahead.

As Vaan and Penelo commenced freaking out, Riley lay in the sand right between them where she'd fallen, all the while laughing maniacally. She'd laugh forever. She would laugh forever as long as life was like this. Life right now was a beautiful adventure on the dangerous road with people she wouldn't leave for the world. She'd be happy forever if this could last.

If this could last.

.~*~.

A/N: Shewf! So what'd you guys think? Longest chapter yet, I do believe. Doubtless I'll have to go back like ten million times to edit it, because it's midnight as I finish this and there's NO WAY I'mma proofread now. Hahah :P

I'm kinda starting to like long chapters. =] And I luff mah new OCs! XD

Lyric headings: "Crystal Ball" by P!nk, "Nothing Lasts Forever" by Maroon Five, "Angels on the Moon" by Thriving Ivory, "Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling, "Haunted" by Evanescence, "Wherever You Will Go" again, and "Good Life" by OneRepublic.