The sun slowly begins to turn itself over our heads, signally the oncoming afternoon. The heat swelters around us, raising ripples of heat waves across the ground. Even Balthier's face has reddened a bit, beads of sweat trickling down the side of his tanned face. Fran, in that metal getup of hers, looks uncomfortable at best. I manage to haggle a drink from Vaan's canvas water bag off of him for a few gil, the very same gil I stole from him in the sewers. That replenishes my energy enough that I'm leading the group, running here and there to see the sights of familiar desert blooms or rock formations. Familiarity brings both joy and sadness and I'm not sure how to handle it but when the others start to poke with their noses, I back off.
Finally, the city looms on the horizon, reviving my traveling companions. Soon enough, the hard green brick of the East Gate meets the heels of my boots and I nearly shout a cry of relief, wishing I could throw myself at the nearest bangaa and strangle him in a hug. This whole fiasco is over and it's time for me to find my older purpose: rebuilding my life's work from the very beginning. By life's work, I mean a mere four years, but that's a fifth of my life at this point, so I'll count it.
"I thank you," Basch finally says, tearing his eyes away from the city to look back at the four of us. We come to a stop, gathered in a not-quite circle. Balthier rests his hands on his hips.
"I'd avoid crowds if I were you. In this town, you're still a traitor, you know."
"The Resistance will surely find me soon," the captain mutters, looking back at the broad, solid iron gates leading to the city. He turns to face Vaan. "Fates willed that we meet again. I would pay respects to your brother." With that, he turns and leaves us to face our own tribulations. Balthier turns to Vaan.
"You're a fugitive now, too. Stay low for a while." He glances at me, staring at the spearhead towering over my own head for a moment. "I suppose you're used to being on the run by now." He nods toward Fran and the two start to leave. Vaan frowns.
"Wait! What about the stone?"
"Do as you like," Balthier mutters, tossing a glance over his shoulder. "That stone's ill-favored."
"We feel regret," Fran continues. "We sought that stone and found ourselves only worry."
"You offering it?" Balthier asks, watching the boy carefully with sharp green eyes.
"It's mine," Vaan replies firmly.
"Then why'd you ask?" Balthier grumbles, turning forward. "Our regards to your girl."
"Then there's no need to pick another fight," I point out, motioning to the two pirates. Fran stands a moment longer.
"We stay in Rabanastre a while," she explains, looking back and forth between me and Vaan. With that, she's on her way, taking long strides on her tall, sharp heels.
"The best of luck to you," I smile, bowing dramatically. Vaan grins, nodding.
"Yeah. You too, I guess. Have fun… pirating."
"We'll see about that," I huff, nudging his shoulder. "Take care, Vaan. Don't get yourself into too many more heists. I won't be there to dig you out of Nalbina next time."
He doesn't bother to point out the fact that Fran found our exit point as I leave, taking my time so I can lose Fran and Balthier in the crowd. I hope to never see either again. The likes of them always keep me on edge. And the way Balthier practically mentored Vaan… It almost worries me that the boy will take it too seriously and wind up in the worse kind of trouble. I head toward the bizarre of Rabanastre, meandering through the crowds and taking care to let my loose, sun-bleached hair hide my face.
A bangaa yells about some clan specials, a man and a woman advertise bolts of cloth and handmade rugs. A girl on the corner dances with a bright smile on her face, earning a young admirer now and then. Two boys run past with loaves of bread clutched in their bony hands, a man chasing after them with a shout for help. He's duly ignored by everyone, myself included. No, I'm done involving myself in everyone's business. Every time I offer my help or abilities, things go awry. I dare to lift my face up, to look across the crowd and over peoples' shoulders. Eyes as bright as the sun and as blue as the deep ocean stare directly back at me. Speak of the devil.
Pretending I didn't see, I hide my face once more, stopping by a seeq and pretending to be interested in his special potions. I honestly don't hear a word his gruff voice says, my mind running a million miles an hour. I can't unsee those eyes. I can't unsee what they used to be. I can't unsee the past. Muttering some excuse about how I forgot my coin purse in another shop, I hurry away, flowing with the crowd leaving the bizarre. Never have I been so grateful for the immense amount of people crowding this market daily.
Unfortunately, my luck runs dry at that and I'm left walking quickly down the streets. I avoid Imperials at all costs, cutting through alleyways and hurrying toward the safest area in this city—supposedly. I rush through a long line of stores, catching a glimpse of his frame ten feet behind me in a window and pick up the pace. My ears pick up on the sound of Vaan's muffled voice but I keep going until I push through the double doors of the Sand Sea. Patrons fill the tavern as they always do, gathered at tables, counters, and billboards.
Hoping to see a balcony full of Imperial guards, I push past a cluster of laughing Dalmascans and hurry up the stairs to the second level of the tavern. My heart sinks when I'm met with regular patrons seated at tables and with two unfortunately familiar faces in the back, both seated before a green glass bottle. Heart pounding my chest, I weight my options with my lips pursed.
Upon hearing a shout of protest against a shove, I step into motion, lifting my chin and heading toward the sky pirates, though I know my face is white as an Archadian's silk sheets. I know Fran knows it too when our eyes meet for a brief moment. At that exact moment, a fist takes hold of my shirt and jerks me backward like I'm nothing more than a ragdoll. Sharply, I'm shoved back against the rough wall, a forearm blocking my view of the only people I recognize in this place. Those blue eyes narrow on me, all too close as he hovers over my face, live wires of hatred and joy in his sadistic toying. I take a deep breath, tearing my eyes away from him and trying to see past his broad shoulders only to be met with nothing but him.
"Listen, I'm terribly sorry. I meant to pay up on time but things went to hell before I could get the ma—"
"Rumor has it you were thrown in Nalbina," he practically croons, tracing the back of a tanned finger across my jaw to move my hair from my face. "I do believe you're becoming quite the escape artist." He tilts his head to the side, that youthful grin that once belonged to a joyful, innocent boy taunting me with its bitter cold gleam. He shakes the long, fair strands of hair out of his face in one quick motion, eyeing me like I'm his prey. At this moment, I suppose I am. "Unfortunately, that doesn't pay back any of your debts, now does it, Shae?"
"And this does?" I demand, instantly regretting it when he draws his face closer and forces me to cower like a frightened child. Because what am I, really? I never outgrew the urge to keep running; this is the price I pay.
"You know how to hold me down in these situations," he continues, his breath, smelling of some sort of sweet fruit, fanning over my breath gently. He's so close I could count each spot in the smattering of freckles spread across his nose. "How to convince me. Don't you?" That brilliant smile flashes again and I shudder upon feeling fingers trace along my spine, raising goosebumps with each touch of his unwelcome skin against mine.
"Don't you ever change?" I ask carefully, my voice low, my eyes pleading. It's as if those bright blue eyes lock me out, merely deflecting wide, frightened pools of honey brown back to me.
"Not as of late, thankfully," he murmurs, his smile melting into a smirk. I place a firm hand on his chest without realizing, a subconscious effort to stop him both in word and action. He only raises an eyebrow. "Don't you remember what happens if you refuse any method of payment I propose?" His lips move down toward my ear, forcing another shudder through my panicked body. I feel his slender fingers wrap around the end of my braid, snapping my head backward. "It only takes one report to the guards, Shae, and you're a goner."
"Jonan." I despise the pleading in my voice. "I only need—"
"More time, I know," he sighs, shaking his head. For someone so young he's truly developed his own stubborn way of doing things, especially when they only benefit him. "But the clock's done ticking, Shae. You still go by that these days, don't you?"
I want to punch that grin off his face, stab through those eyes with the tip of my spear. But I know what that would bring on and it's much worse than payment.
"I thought you were smart enough to know to change your identity every once in a while, hm?" He sighs dramatically, playing with the laced front of my loose shirt. The grip on my hair lessens gingerly. "Then again, that was my fault. You were never as bright as I made you out to be as a boy."
"You're still a boy," I choke out, scowling up at him.
"Have you forgotten? One call is all it—"
"That's quite enough of that."
I clamp down on my cheek, wincing when Jonan's fist tightens around my braided hair yet again, every muscle tensing at a voice I find all too familiar. The young man tosses a glare over at the older sky pirate who stands behind him, arms crossed tightly. Then he chuckles, looking back down at me.
"I see. You've earned yourself quite a few debts to pay, my dear." Jonan doesn't budge, raising a blonde eyebrow at Balthier. "Mind your own business. It's merely a piece of a deal we worked out years ago."
"Is that so?" Balthier raises an eyebrow. "Good for you. However, I wouldn't suppose you were careful enough to cover your tracks in your search for her." At Jonan's frown, Balthier continues smugly. Fran stands just behind him, daring the boy to make another move. They're only getting me in more trouble. "I heard the name Jonan just now. From your friend here, of course." He nods toward the lower level bar. "But also from a group of pigheaded bounty hunters below." A proud smile turns upward across his face. "Now, I do believe the stupid one here is you. It's better to have an overused façade than to maintain one's true identity."
"Damned imbecile," Jonan hisses, shoving me hard against the wall once more for good measure before pushing his way past Balthier with a grumble about his return.
My heart sinks into my stomach and my palms sting as my nails dig into my flesh. The doors to the bar slam shut moments later, Jonan disappearing. For now. When he returns, my life will return the living hell it was before I promised to bring him the magicite. I had no idea he'd be waiting here.
"I suppose it's too hard for you to speak your gratitude, so your silence will suffice," Balthier says, breaking the silence. My tight jaw hardly loosens as I glare at him, wanting nothing more than to drive my spear through that pompous expression.
"Oh yes. I'll thank you now before I'm murdered in the night." I cross my arms so tightly I think my forearms might bruise. "You've only made my life about thirty times more difficult in a mere two minutes. If it's congratulations you want, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere."
"Is that so?"
"He wasn't lying about the deal," I snap. Fran eyes me with an edge in her expression, ready to strike should I lash out. "You weren't meant to be involved in any of my affairs past escaping Nalbina."
"What could you possibly owe that drives a boy like that to such a power-starved state?" he nearly demands, though his voice never leaves its calm edge.
"That's none of your goddamned business," I growl, moving to leave. He steps in my way eyebrow raised.
"I do believe you owe me something after—"
"I owe you nothing," I glower, staring unrelentingly into his green eyes with all the willpower I can muster.
"Not even a sliver of the story?"
"Not even a particle."
"Then a crumb will do," he replies simply, taking hold of my arm and pulling me toward the table he and Fran sat at when I first entered. I give up on fighting; I could use a good seat for a minute or two to steady my spinning head and crazed nerves. I sit across from the two, glaring at my hands.
"Fine. You want a particle?" I take a deep breath, shaking my head. "I was a young fool and I singlehandedly destroyed his life."
"How young?" he asks boredly, twisting the glass bottle before him on the rough table and watching the gleam of the tavern's lights shine across it.
"I already gave you what I deemed you worthy of receiving," I reply shortly, glaring up at him. He meets me gaze as if I'm nothing more than a pouting child.
"Ah, a mysterious one, aren't you?" He exchanges a glance with Fran. "Fine, then. Tell me how old you are now instead, as a point of reference."
"Reference for what you won't ever apply?" I retort.
"People of your sort aren't hard to piece together."
"You think you know so much," I scoff, leaning back in my seat. "I can't even figure it all out. Good luck, Mr. Fate." He rolls his eyes and Fran's ear twitches, though her eyes betray her curiosity. After a long moment of silence, I break, all four feet of my wooden chair hitting the floor. "Twenty."
"Pardon?"
"You asked my age for utterly useless reference," I shrug. "Twenty."
"Older than I expected," he mutters, a sly expression overtaking his features. "Though, that doesn't completely mark out my suspicions about you and that thief, Vaan."
"Suspicions?" I frown. The new look in Fran's eyes pieces it together for me and I nearly gag. "Fates above, no! Vaan? Never." I shudder, scoring an amused smile from the sky pirate. "He's still a kid."
"As are you, judging by your actions."
"Oh, let me guess," I scoff, shooting a dry, unamused look at Balthier. "You're secretly old enough to be my grandfather and just wise enough to hold Ivalice's every secret?" His smile remains where it is as though he's clearly enjoying my riled state. "That's not a nice war strategy, you know. Knowing everything and then keeping it all to yourself. You should at least let Vayne Solidor know how he'll win this bloody war."
"Sore subject right there," he mutters, though he accepts my joke as it's meant to be accepted and takes a long, slow drink from the cheap bottle of madhu he's been playing with. Fran nudges him and he sighs, setting the bottle down.
"The bet's not over yet, Fran. It's still possible for them to find a connection."
"The bet was determined by the fact that there was already a connection," the viera replies simply, one platinum eyebrow arched high. Balthier rolls his eyes, a jingling burlap pouch hitting the table seconds later. Fran takes it in one easy swoop, a twitch in her ear that's different than the one from earlier. How long has Balthier had her around, I have to wonder, with how well he can read her? She's the densest case I've stumbled across in my time.
"You made a bet on my and Vaan's connection?" I eye the bottle before Balthier, snatching it up before he can stop me. "How utterly bored can you be whilst killing Imperials and insects?"
"Aren't they all the same?" Balthier replies, eyebrow raised but eyes narrowed on his drink now that it's in my grasp. I shrug, downing the rest of the madhu in one go. A flavor so familiar it washes a wave of memories so happy that their nostalgia drowns me and I suddenly feel as if I'm choking. I set the bottle back down a bit too hard, leaning back and shutting my eyes. Gods, what would you do if you saw me now?
"That may just cost you another crumb."
"Why're you so interested?" I half-demand, too exhausted by the sudden mix of emotions to sound the least bit convincing. All I see is images of Jonan, both the boy he used to be and the monster I molded him into.
"I'm merely one step from figuring you out," he responds. I can almost hear Fran's "sure" expression. "It's on the very tip of my tongue."
"What've you got so far?" I ask, sitting back up but keeping my eyes glued to the table. Before he can answer, we're interrupted by that desperate voice that forever changes the course of my fated future.