A/N: So I was writing this chapter and had it all planned out, but then Balthier had to be awkward and difficult to write and ended up writing himself. So the ending's slightly different. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Also, I apologise if the viewpoint changes don't work very well. I thought I'd give this style a try, and hopefully it'll improve if I do it more. But if it doesn't work at all then let me know :)

Reviews are amazing, so remember to say anything you have to say. Praise, constructive criticism… it's all welcome.

14. Implications

The Estersand

This is most undignified, Balthier thought with a scowl. The day had started out looking a little chilly, but by the time the outpost was in sight the sun was beating down on the two, causing him to sweat like a fountain and his head to throb with dehydration. Once at the outpost he'd removed his vest and cuffs, asking one of the wayfarers to look after them until he got back, and unbuttoned his shirt half way. He could not help but stare at Fran in wonder, stunned at how she, a creature born of the the cool, damp wood, managed not to sweat or even appear to be in slight discomfort. And how, how did she walk in those heels on such uneven ground as sand?

"Let us stop for a rest," he announced, deciding he could take this no longer. He marched over to the cliff face and sat down in its shadow, pressing his back against the cool, shaded rock surface. Fran followed him and sat beside him on the sandy ground.

"We rested not ten minutes ago," she pointed out, "Should we keep pausing, our return will be late."

"We'll be fine," he insisted, taking a swig of water, "We're not stopping for long."

She eyed him curiously. "Then why stop at all?"

He tipped his head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, cursing the sun's rays for stabbing his parched skin.

"Fran… you don't have to endure the curse of sweaty shirts," he grumbled, "And being the leading man, I shouldn't have to either."

She probably would have rolled her eyes had it been more natural than to merely stare at him, as blank and cold as ever. He sighed in frustration. Clearly she just didn't understand. I bet she doesn't have sand in her shoes and hair either, he thought bitterly, brushing grains of the desert from the auburn hair atop his head. He noticed the sand had managed to stain his previously pristine white shirt a colour closer to magnolia. He scowled at it, as if pulling faces would alter the situation.

"That expression does you little justice," Fran said, "Smiling treats you more kindly."

"Are you suggesting my dashing good looks are only apparent when I smile?" He asked.

He turned to watch her expression. To most, it would be impossible to read. But he could see the subtle twitch of an eyebrow, and he knew she was secretly despairing of his apparent arrogance. He simply chuckled.

"I don't see how you can possibly lecture me about not smiling and then failing to meet your own standards," He commented, "One might call that hypocrisy."

"I was only giving advice," she answered, quite calmly, "Should you prefer it, I will remain silent."

"Not at all, Fran," Balthier said, taking another gulp of water. "I was merely wondering what it was you were implying."

"Who says I must imply anything at all?"

She watched him, waiting for a reply. He gave an incomprehensible grunt, before saying, "Why must you insist on outsmarting me?"

She felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards into a half smile. "It would be unwise of you to expect less of me by now."

She wanted to ask him about it. But at the same time, she didn't want to bring it up again. They'd talked about it enough earlier. He had forgiven her and they'd moved on. But still, there were questions that hadn't been answered, and the curiosity, the not knowing, was gnawing at her mind…

Do I truly wish to know the answer? Would it not be best to remain unknowing?

She quickly glanced at him to see that he was staring at her intently with a half-smile playing on his lips. She titled her head in curiosity.

"You're thinking," he said in answer to her unspoken question, "I am curious as to what goes through that brilliant mind of yours."

"You flatter me too much," she replied.

He didn't look away. "You know that you may speak your mind with me," he said.

For a moment she considered telling him that yes, she did know and leaving it at that.

"Why did you tell me to stop?"

Very rapidly, his face changed from one of curious serenity to shock, possibly alarm. "Last night?"

She fixed her eyes on his and waited. Although he'd managed to cover up his initial shock and once again seem relaxed and confident as usual, she could tell he felt uncomfortable. The sound of his pounding heart and the smell of adrenaline gave him away.

"I find it somewhat curious that you should think on it as nothing less than trivial," he stated.

"And I that you should evade such questioning of it," she answered.

He was fidgeting again. "Evasion wasn't really my intention; I am simply curious as to what it is you're suggesting."

"I imply nothing. I am asking, and you are failing to answer."

He sighed. "You're far too smart for me, Fran."

"Thank you."

They sat in silence, Fran still looking at him. She knew he would crumble under her gaze eventually. Eventually.

She waited. And so did he.

"You are yet to answer the question," Fran reminded him.

Balthier shrugged. "So I am." He stood up. "We should get going, else this sun will shrivel us both before we've even found this wretched mark." He held out a hand to her, but she kept her arms folded. He sighed again. "Fran, don't be stubborn."

"I shall be as stubborn as you are secretive," she answered defiantly. "You tell, and I shall follow you."

"Isn't this matter rather-"

He stopped mid-sentence. The look on her face explained to him quite clearly that he had already lost and he was wasting his energy. After staring at her a little longer, trying to find something in her eyes that suggested she didn't really mean it, he gave up.

"Because you were doing it out of frustration," he answered, "And I only want you to kiss me because you want to."

He couldn't read her expression as she continued to sit, staring at him.

"Satisfied?" He asked.

For a moment longer she gazed at him, before taking his still-outstretched hand and allowing him to help her to her feet.