Disclaimer: May the disclaimer favour us all.

A/N: I got some interesting responses after last week's chapter. As for this chapter, all I can say is that I hope the Basch fans here are too few in number to succeed in killing me. =0 In any case, I really hope you enjoy!

The next morning Basch did his exercises in the garden – I watched him from the bed, still cocooned in the quilts. The cold air stimulated my mind, which was working fast.

What was the right thing to do?

A life without Basch was unimaginable. Somehow, he'd become the connection to my sanity and survival. But was it cruel to leave things the way they were?

It just felt nice when Basch held me – warm and comfortable and safe. Basch was a safe harbour.

I had it within my power, now. I could claim him.

I'd have to tell him everything, even though he would always know everything I could ever say – that look he'd given me the previous night had shown me that. I'd have to explain it right, so that he'd know I wasn't settling. He already knew, better than anyone, that I was broken, but he'd need to know the extent of it.

I would have to commit to this – as much of me as there was left, every one of the broken pieces. It was the only way to be fair. Would I? Could I?

I just wanted to try to make Basch happy – was that so wrong? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after the leading man, could it ever be enough to erase just a little of the unhappiness in Basch's life?

Basch finished his exercises and came to embrace me. Again, it felt nice. Almost like being a whole person again.

Could I do it? Could I betray my absent heart in order to save my pathetic life?

"Siyana, I was thinking…" Basch seemed hesitant to breach the subject.

"What is it, Basch?" I asked, prompting calmly.

"I just wanted to make sure… there's no chance… of you…"

I thought I could see where he was going and smiled.

"No. You saw the mark. I don't have the ability to conceive unless you light a candle to Emmeroloth in my name." I paused. "You… didn't, did you?"

He shook his head, drawing me closer. "No. Neither of us can afford that right now, and I would never importune you in such a way. But I would, someday."

My breath caught. "You would? Truly?"

"Yes," he promised in a whisper, and I was faced with the comparisons again. Why? I demanded of whatever uncaring gods were forcing this upon me. Why, oh, why does it have to be this?

Basch left for work, and I was still no closer to a decision. There was no cruelty in Basch – I should know, I loved him for it. But he would not play me the way I wanted, the way I liked. There was a way to make a torment of gentleness, and he had learned the basics of it that night, but I could see, if I wanted to remain with him, I would have to say goodbye to that side of myself forever. It saddened me in surprising ways.

I decided to do some chores while he was away, to make up for my previous uselessness, and headed for the market to do some shopping.

Between one thing and another, the shopping took all morning, and I only made it back to the apartment in time to have a quick dinner, and then a whim struck me and I went to see Eleonor.

The shop was bound to bring back some unpleasant memories, and I was right. Eleonor remembered me, and I spent most of the afternoon in the back of her shop, just talking. She was wonderful – with the perfect mix of sympathy and understanding that I'd been longing for. There were no few tears (both mine and hers): it seemed that once I had wept for Balthier, the tears flowed more easily.

So it was that it was nearing to evening when I at last made my way back home.

When I grabbed the doorknob to unlock it, it twisted easily under my hand. I frowned – I was sure I'd locked up before I left. I let the door swing open. The hallway was dark. Basch wasn't home yet, I supposed.

I fumbled to light the magicite in the dimness… where was that lamp?

The light glowed to life, though I still had not found it.

I blinked into the sudden brightness, and saw that someone was there, waiting for me.

Unnaturally beautiful and tall, with her red eyes intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the hall.

My knees trembled and nearly gave out. Then I hurled myself at her.

"Fran, oh, Fran!" I cried as I slammed into her.

"Siyana…" There was a strange mingling of relief and confusion in her voice.

I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of her scent as possible. That was the only thing my hyper-realistic nightmares had been lacking. This was no dream. Fran was here – really and truly here.

I didn't notice when the gasping turned into sobbing until Fran dragged me to one of the armchairs in the living room and pulled me onto her lap. She rubbed my arm gently, waiting for me to calm down.

"I'm sorry," I wailed. "I'm just so happy to see you!"

"Seeing you gladdens me, also," Fran replied, imperturbable once again.

"What happened?" I demanded, unable to wait any longer to ask the vital question. "How did you survive? We all thought you were dead! Why didn't you contact us?"

Fran held up a long, slender hand to halt the flow of questions. "I am only able to answer one at a time," she reminded me. "As to what happened:

"After the glossair rings were repaired, I was injured by falling debris," Fran said simply, with no embellishments. "Balthier pulled me out and got us into one of the Imperial craft that had yet to take off when the battle began. We got clear of the Fortress' displacement but it was… difficult. Bahamut's interference crippled our ship, and we were forced to make an emergency landing. Before that, however, Balthier was minded to push the craft as far as it would go. All Archadian military vessels are equipped with skystones made of nethicite, to resist jagd. We flew west, helped by Bahamut's shockwave, and we made it almost to the Rozarrian border, where the Sandsea gives way to mountains and then to thick forests. There our luck gave out." I could read the meaning in it – they'd crashed. Fran was just too proud to say it. But why cross the Westersand when a hero's welcome was waiting for them in Rabanastre?

"There are covens of viera that live in the border-woods, and Balthier convinced them to take us in, that we might get treatment. We were there some weeks – our injuries were extensive. I promised to return – they were glad to see one of their own from another village, rogue though she be." She smiled softly.

My fingers dug into her arm. "And… Balthier?"

The smile dropped from her face. "He is well," she replied.

I waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. I frowned. Was Fran trying to kill me by slow degrees?

"Where is he?" I prompted. "Didn't he come with you?" She shook her head.

"Why not?" My voice was anxious now. I was inclined to believe Fran when she said Balthier was well, but so many other things could have gone wrong.

"He… did not wish to come. No more can I say."

My heart suddenly dropped and I fought the surge of rejection, strong and instinctual, that coursed through me.

"Did he not… wish to see me?" The words were harder for me to say than any I had ever said in my life. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"I cannot say. My mission was for Basch only. We did not know that you would be here also."

I was deeply curious about Fran's purpose here, but I could not allow myself to be distracted.

"So, Balthier is alive and well, but he didn't want to come with you and you can't tell me where he is. And you don't know whether or not he is still interested in seeing me."

"That is… correct."

I covered my face with my hands. "Well… that's something, at least." As poor as the news was, it was still news that would have been helpful a month and more gone by, before I became a drunkard. Before I went on a killing spree.

I looked up to meet Fran's eyes. "Why couldn't you have just told me this a long time ago? Why didn't you contact us?"

Fran's lips pursed – trying to decide, I thought, how much to tell me.

"We are working… under cover," she said at last. "Any contact, from within or without, would jeopardize our disguises – especially now that we are heroes of the realm. Let the world believe Fran and Balthier to be dead, and we are free from suspicion. As a sky pirate yourself, these tactics are known to you."

I frowned, because they were, and I had thought of it before. But I had never expected it to be true. I had fallen into the trap of thinking that Balthier and Fran's interests lay with the party – of course, they didn't. And yet, to be ready to leave us so quickly, to go so callously and immediately in search of yet another treasure, heedless of the ties they left behind… I'd never dreamed they would be capable of such cruelty.

"Fran," I began, trying to keep my composure, "we've just about gone crazy these past few weeks, all five of us… me especially. Is it so much to ask that you send even one word?"

My attempt failed, a little bit – my voice got frantic at the end. Fran's eyes softened and she stroked my face.

"Perhaps not. But you must understand: Balthier's greatest sacrifice on Bahamut was not the mere risk of his life – something he has faced many times before – but the loss of his freedom. Allow him to regain what little of it he can."

I bit my lip. I could understand that.

"But at what cost?!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Ashe's well-being? Vaan's broken-heartedness?"

"I did not say we did not regret it," Fran said calmly, "but it had to be done."

I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm until my mood passed.

"Then, why are you here?" I asked finally, in a hushed voice.

"Our undercover work has us on the trail of a legendary treasure," Fran replied, "but we have come up against a roadblock. Balthier has determined that documents in the Archadian archives can set us straight again. Basch, as Gabranth, has access to these documents."

I had to fight the surge of anger that rose in me. It stung to think that while we'd been stumbling about in the dark, Balthier and Fran had somehow figured everything out.

"And you think he'll just help you," I gasped, "after everything you've done?"

Fran cocked her head, listening. "We are about to find out," she said, her composure unshaken. It was some while until I, too, could hear Basch's approaching footsteps.

His reaction was much like mine: shock, relief, and then anger. I made supper while Fran and Basch caught up, and while we ate, Fran gave a more detailed sequence of events (though never mentioning any locations). Then she made her request.

Basch turned stark white, looking askance at me. I suppose he thought me the most wronged for the information. Was he asking my opinion, or my permission?

I stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed." I didn't have an answer, and as happy as I was to see Fran, I didn't want to think about it just then.

Both were silent as I went down the hall to the bedroom. I curled up beneath the covers, but I was nowhere near sleep. I pondered the decision Basch was asking me to make. Fran was going the legitimate route, asking permission first. If I refused, Basch would too, and I was only too certain of where that would lead. I didn't like the possibility of Fran getting caught stealing from the Royal Archives. But if Fran got what she wanted, she would disappear, and I would never see her again.

While I was thinking, sounds of casual talk came from the other room. But once a sufficient time had passed for me to have fallen asleep, they stopped pretending.

"How bad was it?" Fran asked.

Basch sighed. "Terrible."

"Tell me about it. I want to know exactly what happened when we left."

There was a pause. I waited, cringing.

"I felt completely helpless," Basch began slowly. "I had no idea of what to do. That first week, she was in the infirmary, though she wasn't injured. She wouldn't eat or drink, she wouldn't even move. Finally the healers told me to take her away – they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, and she was taking up room. When I got her in the coach she seemed to revive a little, but once she came home…"

"Yes?"

"Well, she went to talk to Ashe, but Her Majesty was just as much in denial as Siyana was, and I wasn't sure it would help. It didn't. She stayed in the house, ate and slept. She answered when someone asked her a direct question. But… there was nothing inside her. Her eyes were dead. She started trying to get into the routine of things back at the villa, but it didn't last long. I had Vaan and Penelo reporting everything to me, and I finally figured it out – she was avoiding everything that might remind her of… him."

"We always had to watch our words around her, afraid that we'd say something wrong – the littlest things could make her flinch – and she never volunteered anything except very occasional requests for news – which only made things worse.

"She was alone all the time. She took to going up on the roof and staring at Bahamut for hours at a time – pretty soon she did nothing else all day. We were all concerned for her health, but we didn't know how to stop her without aggravating the situation. At last, I convinced her to come here with me. I was so relieved. I thought that would be the turning point, but I was wrong. The worst was yet to come."

"Which was?" Fran prompted.

"She started drinking," Basch said – it was a defeated sigh. "I didn't notice it for a while – she would leave when I did in the morning and come back late at night. We still didn't see too much of each other, so it wasn't until a couple of days later that I realized she was completely plastered. I begged her to stop, but she wouldn't listen to me. She just kept drinking more and more – some nights, she wouldn't even come home from the bar. But at least she stopped screaming."

"Screaming?" Fran inquired.

"She said drinking helped the nightmares. She would wake up and you'd swear someone was subjecting her to the most horrible torture…" There was a silence.

"Then one night when she came home, she'd changed. I can't find a way to describe it. She went off on a hunt for the clan, and when she came back, she told me that she'd killed Ba'Gamnan and his three thugs."

Fran took in a breath. "Ba'Gamnan… is dead?"

"Yes, and at Siyana's hand. And then when she got back here, she had some colour in her cheeks, some light in her eyes. We… made love, last night. She seems much happier." His tone was almost belligerent now, a warning, not for Fran, but for her to pass along. "I think, given enough time, I could make her feel better. I could be good for her," he insisted, and my heart wrenched.

"Then it is good she has you," Fran agreed.

Basch sighed in a big gust, folding quickly to the lack of opposition. "Well, perhaps that is an overstatement. I don't know… with me, still, now and again I see something in her face, and I wonder if I've ever grasped how much pain she's really in. It's not normal, Fran, and it… it frightens me," Basch went on in a hopeless tone. "I don't know if she's going to get over it, even now. It's not in her nature to bear something like this. She's always been such a constant thing. She doesn't get past things, or change her mind."

"She is one of a kind," Fran agreed in a dry tone.

"Now do you see? I'm worried about the effect this… visit of yours will have on her."

"So am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I apologize."

"Don't. She doesn't need your remorse. If you want to do something for her, tell her where Balthier is. I won't even listen. I just want her to be happy."

There was another silence, and suddenly Fran appeared at my door. She crossed to the bed and knelt, her eyes wide, calm demeanour shaken.

"Siyana…" She hesitated. "He's in Rozarria," Fran continued in a neutral tone, "in the city of Dimethicone. Ask for Allantoin."

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't speak for a moment.

"Thank-you, Fran," I said at last. "Thank-you so much!" I turned to Basch, who hovered in the doorway.

"Give her the information, if you'd like," I told him. Fran blinked.

"It was not for gain that I told you."

I smiled. "I know."

Basch stepped forward. "Siyana…"

"Of course it is your influence, and therefore your right to use as you will," I told him. "But if you asked me, I would say: yes." He was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"All right, Fran," he said at last. "Let's go get what you need." He looked to me, and again I saw the impending hurt in those eyes that wrenched my heart. I smiled through the pain. "I'll be here when you get back," I told him. "I promise."

Basch nodded, relieved and satisfied, and went out. Fran lingered by my bedside.

"I understand why you did it, Fran," I said softly. "That doesn't make it any easier to forgive."

She nodded solemnly. "I know. And I thank you." She followed Basch.

I kept my promise. I lay awake for some hours, waiting. But now I had a small, burning sensation of warmth in my heart and I was still, savouring the sensation of actually having emotions. I repeated it like a mantra to myself. Dimethicone. Allantoin.

I could have run around the room, jumping up and down and screaming. Instead I forced myself to lie still. There was a certain enjoyment in that, also. I kept running the concept through my head, trying to accept it, after all this time.

Balthier was alive. And I was going to see him.

It was much later that Basch returned, and he did not have Fran with him. I sat up in bed, wide awake, as he opened the door and stared at me.

"You stayed," he said, and he sounded so relieved and surprised it hurt.

"Of course," I whispered, not ready to tell him how hard it had been. "I promised, didn't I?"

"I know," he said, coming nearer, "it's just… I know how strong a pull he has on you."

"I keep my promises," was all I said.

Later that night, when both of us were trying to sleep and failing, Basch hesitantly stroked the lines of my mark.

"Siyana?" he asked. "What's going to happen to… us?"

I sighed. I didn't want to tell him that there had never been an us, and just how close it had come.

"I don't know, Basch," I said at last. "But I would never have made love to you, had I known. I'm so sorry."

Basch's motions stilled. "So it's like that, is it?"

"Yes." It was an anguished whisper in the darkness. "I don't want to hurt you, Basch. You have to believe that."

"I always knew this was a long shot, Siyana," Basch replied, shaking his head. "And he was there first. It's not your fault."

"It is my fault. I don't want to be told it's not."

"You're saying you want me to get angry at you?"

I nodded miserably. I deserved to be punished.

He pursed his lips as he measured how much I meant it. Then he twisted his expression into a scowl.

"How dare you lead me on like that." He spat the words at me. "If you knew you didn't really mean it, maybe you shouldn't have been quite so convincing about it."

I winced and nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't make anything better, Siyana. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," I whispered.

"I know what you were thinking," Basch said, and his voice was kinder. "You just wanted to be happy. And I don't blame you, Siyana… I know as well as anyone that Balthier is difficult to get along with. And you made me happy, too. I want to return the favour. I can't let you go on like this – slowly losing your mind with grief. I certainly won't be the cause. Go, and be happy."

Despite my best efforts, tears began to roll down my cheeks. I didn't deserve this.

"But I must ask you one thing," Basch continued. "Why? I don't understand. How can you keep coming back to him, after everything he's done to you?"

My answer came immediately. "His vow."

Basch raised an eyebrow, uncomprehending. The gesture was so familiar that I felt like crying all over again. "His what?"

"He vowed that he would never again give any part of himself away in love. It's why it was so hard for me to get through to him." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. "In the beginning, he was certainly in earnest. But as time went on, he grew to forget the original motive and spurned love out of habit, convinced he didn't need it to complete him. I can't let him go back to that." I wouldn't let myself become just another tale for Fran to tell. Not to mention my own selfish motives – I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else making their move in the backlash. And part of it was my own self-righteous conviction – I was the right one for Balthier. Hadn't he told me so?

I smiled sadly at Basch's reluctance. "Tell me something, Basch: how can you keep on loving me, after all the things I've done?"

It was a low blow and I knew it, but Basch had to be persuaded.

"That's different," Basch said, but his eyes told a different story. He knew. And it was why he was unable to bring himself to stop me.

"It would never have worked out, anyway," Basch continued, trying to make his voice lighter. "You'd still have to be a sky pirate, right? Imagine how embarrassing it would be if you got yourself arrested."

I let out an involuntary watery giggle, imagining Basch trying to look stern as he judged me.

"We'd be in the shadows all the time, and you'd hardly be able to go out. I won't do that to you."

I curled into his side, selfishly seeking his comfort to the end. "There is someone for you, Basch. Someone who can truly make you happy. Maybe your first… doesn't have to be in the past." I held my breath. If I'd miscalculated…

But I am rarely wrong about these things.

"How did you know?" It was a mere breath of air. I ignored the question. "I know she misses you. And truly, you are perfect for each other. You could make it work."

"Perhaps you're right," Basch mused, awed and transported at the prospect.

Emotionally drained, I slept then. When I woke in the morning, Basch was gone. Beside me on the pillow was a scrap of parchment on which were penned two words. Be happy.

I placed it reverently in the bottom of my satchel as I started packing. I would keep it until it fell apart. On the desk was an unsealed letter I was sure Basch meant me to see, just a few lines petitioning Emperor Larsa for a brief leave of absence to return to Dalmasca. I smiled. Basch would be fine.

With one last glance at the apartment that had been my home, I set off for the Aerodrome and my own reunion, leaving behind a similar message. Thank-you.

A/N: And thus, healing is found. Next up: the Rozarrian city of Dimethicone!