A/N: I had this story all planned out, but now it would seem it has a life of its own, and suddenly I find myself somewhere I had not planned. But no matter, I think this new direction on the story works. Hope you do to; here's the eleventh chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII. It is the property of Square Enix.

Part eleven

A week went past. Two weeks, a month. Ffamran did no longer bother counting the days, reveling in his life outside the law, duties and time.
With Fran's aptitude for stealing, and his own talent for piloting their ship, they had at last settled on a profession; sky pirates.
He had stumbled over the idea while at a bar, listening to the bar keeper's fantastic stories of pirate-life. Plenty of money, respect and women made it all that he had ever dreamed of.
Soon he found Fran had been right in her warning, and that life as a pirate was not as romantic as he was led to believe. Still, the most important thing was that he was free.

Fran was incredibly patient with him, and he often found himself wondering at why she simply didn't leave him behind. For though he had saved her life, he had also endangered it enough times this past month for them to be even.
She did seem charmed by him, like all women, but also often annoyed. His jokes, arrogance and sarcasm didn't go down well with her.
Personally he frequently found himself at a loss of what to do. He was no master thief and knew very little of the world outside of the empire. Therefore she often had to guide him, teach him what to do. She didn't mind, but Ffamran felt like a burden, holding her back.

This insecurity, fear that she would leave him, was the only thing marring his newfound existence.

***

"Be quiet!"

Fran's shrill whisper echoed through the hall, but her warning was for naught. With the enhanced hearing of a Viera, she had been alerted to the pending arrival of the manors inhabitants sooner than him. But just as she told him to silence down his easy chatter, he had taken it upon himself to tumble down the stairs.

His expression morphed from triumph at their catch of coins and jewelries for the night, to one of surprise as the carpet began to slide underneath him. He did look slightly comical, grasping for the balustrade with waiving arms. But all humor was gone from the situation when the carpet gave way at last, sending him crashing down the staircase.

Bang after bang echoed through the hall for every step he fell. The chandelier chirred and the ornaments that covered every surface threatened to fall of their precarious placing on the shelves and tables. When at last at the bottom, he lay coughing and cursing in a bundle of carpet and limbs. It was the thus he presented himself to the family of nobles that stepped through their front door at that very moment.

"Oh shit!"

His head was ringing, the sound of the crashes somehow still chiming through his head. The word was spinning as Fran entered his vision. But the damned Viera wouldn't stand straight. She kept spinning to the left, rendering him queasy. Her arms descended towards him, grabbing hold of his hands. She somehow managed to pull him up to a standing position (or something to that effect), once more reminding him how strong, how superior she was. There must be more to a Viera, Ffamran reflected, than the rabbit ears that currently protruded into his face. They twitched, the soft hair scraping his chin. He recognized the angle in which they bent to be one of alert stress. Interpreting the ears was the only way of knowing for sure what she was feeling. As the world slowly came to a halt and he was once more able to stand on his own, he turned to see why a bunch of helpless nobles had that effect on her.

What he had first assumed to be a noble-family, he now saw was a noble family with two rather brawny body-guards. It was bad enough to be caught raiding a house. He still felt it was below his dignity. But a pirate's got to eat, right? Now, however, it was not so much a question of wounded pride, as managing to escape the Nalbina-dungeons.

The family of five nobles flanked with the guards all stood frozen in the doorway. The father did not seem so much taken aback by the two strangers standing in his hall, but rather the heavy sack of loot one was holding and the ornaments stern about the room. When he saw what had happened to his beloved handmade dalmascan carpet, he nearly swooned.

"Come," Fran whispered, her breath gushing across his face. He drew in the pleasing scent, before collecting his scrambled thoughts and turned on his heel to follow her out the back door. Unfortunately his limbs were not as quick as his thoughts. Still a little shaky from the tumble and with a rather painful right foot, their escape went terribly slow. Fran could have left him behind, taking their treasure and abandoned their glacial pace.

But she didn't. When the guards, whom Ffamran suspected were not the brightest of men, finally saw it fit to scuttle after them, Fran was still there. She most certainly took that whole partnership thing seriously. And that was good. If not, Ffamran would have been imprisoned long ago. But perhaps it would have been better of her to simply scram. Now it seemed as though they would both be thrown in the dungeon.

When the sentries reached them, Ffamran was still too impaired from the fall to be able to do much else than flail helplessly with his arms. It made him easy target for the man who was keen on proving his worth to the horrorstruck family that stood watching. The fist that planted itself in his gut wasn't exactly made of iron. In fact, he was surprisingly weak given his size. But even that feeble blow was enough to send him crashing to the floor.

From a rather awkward position, face down with the guard's knee between his shoulder blades, pressing him insistently into the ground, he could only watch as Fran was overtaken by the second guard.

She was stronger than most, with excellent reflexes. But still grasping the bag of loot, she had no means of warding off the fist that came bearing down on her.

Ffamran tried shouting out, but all that came out was a feeble sort of cough. That's when the guard decided to silence him down. He grabbed a fistful of Ffamran's hair, sending his forehead smashing against the marble tiles. The white stone was spattered with red, moisture trickling down his face. Blackness began to dance around the fringes of his vision before it spread, enveloping his mind like a blanket.

***

He awoke at dawn. In the moment of waking his thoughts came back to him. They were slow, tentative, as if scared to enter his consciousness; to end the moment caught between dreams and reality. The only time in the day when one thought clearly and at the same time bordered on insanity. His thoughts strayed to pink sun rays and Vieras, to bright scarlet's and cold blue's; a confused bundle of random ideas. The only thing that stood clearly, like a beacon to all else filling his mind, was his feelings; the joy of waking, of knowing life. It was a hovering, pensive pause that could only last for a moment. Then his mind reeled, collected itself, and he was once more present. Awake.

The awareness of a hard, uncomfortable ground became more and more insistent, until he finally gave up going back to sleep and opened his eyes. The sun that a moment ago had seemed like pink fog caressing his face, now projected into his eyes, causing black spots to pop up in his vision. It was not until he sat up that the events of last night came back to him. Well, what he assumed was last night. For though he could tell by the grayish pink light that emanated from the little window high above, that it was indeed dawn, there was no telling what day it was.

Taking a swift survey of his surroundings he found that he was alone, sitting on the floor of what was presumably a cell in the Nalbina dungeons. He had never been imprisoned before and quickly found that he did not particularity care for it. This past month had been filled with all sorts of firsts; his first successful robbery, his first unsuccessful robbery, his first unsavory hotel-room. And by his side through it all had been his first proper crush. Said crush that had now seen it fit to abandon him. No, he really didn't care for this "in captivity" thing.

Everything about this place seemed to be tainted with imprisonment. The walls, slimy and moist, the wood rotten and smelly, the light, the wonderful fresh light of dawn, contaminated by captivity. Even the air, dusty and thick with seedy smells. But worst of all was the state of Ffamran himself. Peering down at his clothing he found that his new, white shirt would probably never be completely white again. His black leather pants that he had exchanged the armor for were now gray with dust. Lifting a hand to his hair, he found sticky moisture coating his hair and face; a telltale sign of blood. He must look a fright. No wonder Fran had left him.

"You are awake I see."

As if summoned by his thoughts, she was suddenly there. Standing in the open doorway that led out to the labyrinth of cells she looked striking. It seemed as though things like dust or mud or even blood didn't stick to a Viera. It annoyed him, but not so much as to cancel out the relief of discovering she had not left him. He wondered at this feeling. What was he so afraid of, when she had never so much as indicated that she did not wish to be with him?

"I have looked around for an escape route."

She crossed the room, little puffs of dust stirring up at her every step. She came to a halt by his side, the dust cloud about her feet settling in his face. He couched irritably.

"Mind where you walk, woman!"

"Apologies," she muttered, taking a step back, upsetting the dust even more.

"I believe I have located someplace for us to exit this wretched place," she continued, ignoring his indignant spluttering.

"Already? This can't be much of a dungeon. I though the purpose of these things was to keep the prisoners inside."

"Hume and banga prisoners perhaps. There has yet to be created a cage that a Viera can not breach out of."

Ffamran got to his feet, brushing of the worst of the dirt.

"Well then by all means, my vieran friend. Lead the way."

"In a moment."

Her hand went to her hip, loosening the strings of the bag that hung there. A bag he had never before seen.

"I see you have been most productive, my dear. But might I hint that stealing from fellow prisoners might not make you very popular."

"It was necessary."

With that dismissive answer, she proceeded to moisten his handkerchief and dab the wet cloth in his face.

"What in Ivalice are you-"

"We might be in a dungeon surrounded by the worst scum the world has to offer. You would still alarm people, looking like that."

"Is that a compliment my dear?"

She gave him a disgusted stare, before removing the cloth from his face and pressing it into his hand in stead.

"Come."

"You know, there's no reason for you to be so short with me," he chided his companion as they made their way through the dungeon. When she didn't answer him, he walked sulkily in her wake, giving out rude comments to his fellow inmates.

"What are you staring at?" he snapped at a man who obviously liked what he saw. Then again, who could blame him? Those leather pants were after all quite snug. Ffamran picked up his pace, walking sidelong his partner in crime.

"Please, darling. I did not mean to be so discourteous."

"I am aware Ffamran. But," she added in a hushed voice. "Might I suggest you endeavor to be a bit more inconspicuous? We are, after all, trying to escape, and you are creating an awful lot of attention."

"Oh." He halted, looking around at the prisoners that all followed their little stroll intently with their eyes. "You're quite right as always."

They resumed walking. He followed her through the multitude of halls and cells, marveling at her sense of direction. Though this was the first dungeon he'd ever sat foot in, it seemed a most peculiar place to store prisoners. It must have been a magnificent building once upon a time. With its high roofed ceiling and intricate arcs, it really seemed a strange sort of place to let disintegrate, then to use it as storage for the seedy underbelly of Nalbina's townsfolk.
Rounding yet another corner, Ffamran grew weary of their silence.

"You explored all this while I was asleep?"

"Ffamran, please be quiet."

"Oh, come. There is no one here at the moment. I cannot take it when you shut me out."

He knew she didn't like it when he got like that. Fran was most accepting with all his spoilt habits but his arrogant quibbling was something she couldn't stand. At least not when directed at her.

They were rounding yet another corner when Fran suddenly threw her arm out, alerted by those magnificent ears of hers. She pressed him up against the wall, the slimy wetness seeping into his shirt. He grunted in annoyance, but silenced down when she pressed herself up against him. It really was most aggravating, this whole crush-thing. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, blushing at every touch from this woman.
And this was far more than a touch, but more like… dry humping, he though as she slid exquisitely against him. He sighed.

"Silence," she whispered. "There is someone around the corner, and I do not think they are prisoners."

"Then what?" he whispered, peeking around to see.

He felt his jaw drop at the sight of the person standing at the end of the hall. There was no mistaking that armor. It was Drace. Never expecting to lay eyes on her again, he felt the initial shock give way to joy.
She stood by a door with a fellow judge, waiting for the lock-keeper to open it. They were apparently in deep conversation, and Ffamran wondered at them being here, in Nalbina. While the man fumbled with the keys, he strained his ears to overhear their conversation.

"….matched the description… no…. his son…"

He could not make out their words, but the sound of her voice brought with it an unexpected relief. The thought of what she must think of him had often plagued Ffamran. But now that she was here, he could explain to her why he had acted as he did. If only that other judge would leave.

"Fran," he mumbled in a hushed voice. "I know that woman. If only I could speak with her, I'm certain she would release us."

She was silent a little while before answering.

"I would not count on it."

"No really. We are close friends. I'm certain she would aid us."

"You cannot hear what they speak of?"

"…no"

"It would seem," she mumbled, turning her head away from the corner to look him straight in the eyes. "Judge Drace and Judge Goya are looking for us."

"What! Whatever for? The empire has no business here."

She silenced him down with a slender finger pressed against his lips.

Peering around the corner again he saw the man that had been checking him out walking up to the judges.

"Oh dear…" he muttered, fearing for the man's safety. Who the hell walked up to a judge anyway?

As he began to talk, Fran froze. With her marble frame pressed against him, he was painfully aware of her sudden lack of movement.

"What is it?"

"You really ought to have changed your name."

"Why?" Ffamran asked, thinking this was really not the time to resume that discussion.

"Because the man you snapped at heard it, and has now alerted the judges as to where we are."

Another peek around the corner. She had been quite right. Just as his face peered from out behind the wall, Drace turned, looking directly at him. He drew away quickly, but it was too late.

"I suppose you're right about the name. But I would suggest that we leave it for the moment and… run!"