~1 year before~

I stare out the broad window of the Castean, breath fogging up the crystal clear glass. The night is clear with only the glitter of the stars to illuminate the way. Most nights we fly far away from civilization to avoid unwelcome contact. Neither of us wants to deal with society. No, society marred us with too many scars. A burned child never reaches for the stove a third time, at least not once the blisters have bubbled up and burst. All we need is air and sky and each other. Tonight, I refuse to land. I refuse to fear the dark while I lie in bed. No, tonight we fly and I refuse to shut my eyes.

The plains beneath us are smooth, green, alive. Giant serpents settle for the night and birds shimmy into place inside their nests. The gentle hum of the ship's engine lulls me into comfort, even as I rub over a stinging cut with steel-armored fingertips. The wounds we received from a pack of wolves this afternoon need much more time to recover. Our curatives are gone and both Dern and I can't seem to grasp healing magick. No matter. Stowing the Castean away for a few days won't be difficult. I'll explore the safer areas around us while Dern toys with upgrade ideas I've drawn in my sketchbook. It always goes that way on these recovery trips. Perhaps I'll soak in some of the summer sun.

"You're taking on the whole night?" I jump, my heart leaping into my throat when I feel a hand gently resting on my back. "You're hardly in the proper shape for such a task."

"Says Dern the Drowsy," I taunt gently, turning around to face him and crossing my arms. He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Go back to sleep. I'll be alright."

"Will you now?" He raises one dark eyebrow, motioning to the sore wounds littering my skin. Crimson is smudged across my white shirt and bruises and cuts create a sickening pattern across my shoulders, arms, neck. "Don't fight me tonight, Shae. Go get some rest. It's well deserved."

"I'm not tired," I reply simply, turning my gaze out to the world below us. He sighs, gently forcing me to face him by grasping my shoulders and turning. I shudder at the feeling of his warm hands on my cool skin. The contrast is so sharp it burns.

"It is not a matter of energy, merely one of healing. Please, Shae." He nods toward the window. "This is all ours. You have the rest of your life to gawk at the beauty of creation. Refrain from making yourself sick of it while you're young."

"You're hardly much older than me," I retort, though I have to fight a yawn in the process. Dern's right; I should rest. But… To leave him out here, alone, all night… Dern has already sacrificed far too much. "Maybe we should stop here for tonight."

"No need. We have places to be by morning and I rested plenty after our return." He raises an eyebrow, feigning a stern expression. "Off to bed, Shera."

"Alright, Adamar. I'll go to bed now and skin you alive later."

"I suppose that's a deal," he smiles, shutting those bloodshot green eyes and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead that makes me shudder from the difference in temperature. Sighing, I pull him into a careful hug, arms hooked under his and wrapped around the tight surface of his back. His sharp chin rests on top of my head; I shut my eyes. Beneath my fingertips, I feel the smooth, worn shaft of his javelin. "I suppose I say it too often… But only the gods know how grateful I am to have you here with me." He laughs to himself quietly, giving me one last squeeze. "Goodnight, Shae."

I pull away from his grasp and force a smile on my face, nodding and brushing past him to head for my quarters alone. "Goodnight, Dern."

"Marquis Ondore announced my execution two years ago," Basch muses. "If news of my survival were to spread, the Marquis may find his position compromised."

"The men he's been funding bear little love for the Empire," Balthier adds, leaning forward with his elbows rested on the smooth wooden table. "They won't be thrilled to discover that rumors of your death were, in fact, greatly exaggerated."

"So we find a way to raise the alarm to that effect," I propose, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. "That'll get their attention if any of them still possess a care in the world."

We're seated in the back corner of the inn's tavern, circled around a table and deciding how to get the attention of the Marquis. Of course, we can't just march up the place and promise our Basch is the right Basch. Nothing is ever quite that easy. Vaan sits backward in his seat, cheek rested along the sharp edge of its back as he watches on, wanting nothing more than to save Penelo. Suddenly, his eyes go bright and he smiles.

"Hey, nothin' to it! I'll just go around town spreading the word. How 'bout this?" He stands, pulling himself on top of his chair. "I'm Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca!" The entire tavern turns to stare at us, frowning, confused, and mildly disturbed. The boy hops down, grinning with his hands on his hips. "Well? Whaddaya think?"

"That certainly qualifies as a clamor," Balthier replies. Sighing, he shakes his head. "Alright, Vaan, get to it. For the girl's sake, eh?"

"The more people who witness your little performance the better," I assure him. "If we're really going to reach the Marquis, it's all up to you."

"We'll be waiting here if you need us," Balthier adds, shooting me a sidelong glance.

Without needing any more encouragement, the thief hurries out the door. I can hear him shouting before the doors even close. Groaning, I give a light laugh and fold my arms on the table, laying my head down. Balthier hums, swishing the water in his glass in a few circles. I watch the whirlpool swirl under the surface before it fades away just like so many things I've ever known.

"You're as pensive as ever," Balthier comments, cocking his head to the side. "Ready to talk today?"

"Why should I?" I raise an eyebrow. "It's as Larsa said: I prefer to keep everyone's business to themselves."

"Then might I ask why you're still here?" Basch inquires.

I shrug, keeping myself slouched over, ready to fall asleep. I didn't sleep well, jumping at every shadow and mulling over the faces of the dead in the back of my mind. Haunted by the past, I paced the floor for hours, hands wringing, head racing, heart pounding. Vaan's questioning what happened to my partner left me replaying the events over and over in my head, events I tried to bury far behind me not all that long ago.

"I thought I'd help get the girl in hopes that she'd keep Vaan out of getting in too much trouble," I mutter, turning my eyes away from them and into the busy tavern. "It's turned out to be a far bigger ordeal than I thought."

"Ah, so you do care a bit for our little thief," Balthier points out, eyebrow raised and lips quirked into a smile. He holds out his hand and Fran sighs, her scarlet eyes full of irritation as she hands him a small bag of gil. Basch frowns, looking between the two before shaking his head.

"It does seem out of character for a sky pirate to be interested in the good of others."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just special," I mumble, shutting my eyes and locking the door on that conversation. Unfortunately, Balthier brought a lockpick along.

"I'll say. A sky pirate without a ship and a tendency to look out for others, though she's lost her partner somehow." I open my eyes to scowl at him, a silent warning to shut him up. He merely raises an eyebrow smugly. "Your reactions have me wondering if your partnership was something more as well."

"What do you know?!" I snap, standing so suddenly my chair hits the floor with a resonating thud. "What do want from me?!"

"I must admit, Fran," Balthier murmurs, leaning over to his viera partner. "Getting a rise out of her is quite amusing."

"Find a new source of entertainment," I huff, setting my chair back up and ignoring the stares I'm receiving with flushed cheeks.

"Off to find Vaan so soon?"

I bite my healing cheek so hard blood rushes into my mouth, wanting so badly to punch that smug smirk off his face. Basch attempts to stare me out of my bitter hatred, Fran watching cautiously to see what I'm about to try. Taking a deep breath, I spit the blood flooding my mouth to the floor and turn on my heels just enough that they can hear me loud and clear as I walk away.

"Do me a favor and keep it down next time you bed your pet rabbit."

Don't get me wrong; no such event (that I'm aware of) occurred last night. But it most certainly gets a reaction from the crowd, some stunned, most laughing. Balthier speaks again, low, but I hear it even from the door.

"I apologize, my dear, but not everyone's partnership unfolds as yours did."

I can't control myself any longer; I'm quite literally at his throat in a matter of seconds. His chair slams to the floor and he's hardly dazed for half a second as my fingers clutch his shoulders, begging to strangle him. Begging to let them rip his throat out so he can't mock me anymore. So he can't mock Dern anymore. Before I can fulfill those wishes, I'm jerked to my feet by Basch, met by the cool, contained irritation of deep blue eyes.

"Why don't you get some air?" he suggests, blocking my view of the sky pirate. "Calm down, see the city before we visit the Marquis." I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head. "You're attracting the wrong sort of attention. I'll take care of Balthier."

"Good luck," I huff, breaking free from his grasp and storming out of the tavern. The setting outside is far different. People whisper and share confused expressions. Occasionally I hear a mutter of Basch's name and I can't help but smile. Vaan's doing a fantastic job of spreading the word. I couldn't be prouder of the little rat.

Keeping my pace quick, I head down the rough streets, avoiding the eyes of guides and citizens as I walk. Children watch me walk past with curious eyes, most staring at the glinting armlet on my left wrist, the gold and steel glistening in the daylight. Moving from view to view, shop to shop, I kill the time until I see the tension on the streets seriously building up. I can't help but smile when I hear Basch's voice coming up from behind me, happy to know something went right for a change.

"All attention is on Vaan; now is the time to slip in," he announces. I lean against the smooth stone of the city's marketplace railing, staring out at the golden, puffy clouds floating past. Taking a deep breath, I nod and straighten. "Balthier and Fran located the Marquis's men."

"And we're meeting up with them?" I ask, walking along beside the captain.

"Of course. Once we enter, we'll have them trapped. They reside in the back of the Cloudeborne, a tavern in the north end of the city." Basch glances toward me, towering over my height easily but not the least bit intimidating with his gentle eyes. "I apologize, but it seems those pirates found quite a bit of amusement in your previous... Involvements."

"I don't blame them, I suppose," I shrug, offering a smile. Then I drop it immediately, tearing my eyes away from his and staring at the road. This happiness at seeing someone, this companionship I feel forming rapidly, I have to stop it before it leads to each one's demise. After we save the girl, I run just as I always do. "I overreacted," I add.

"Is everything alright?" he asks. "If there is a problem we must face I beg of you to speak up now."

"No, it's nothing."

We slip into the tavern and I'm met with the sight of Balthier and Fran waiting cautiously in the back of the room. Anger easily stirs up in my chest but I ignore it, nodding toward the door. Balthier glances at Basch before taking the lead, waltzing right into the storage room. The walls are the same as the bar's, though now there are crates stacked about left and right alongside the jars and urns haphazardly lined up against the wall. I close the door behind me, catching the slightest bit of conversation from the room within.

"If at trickery it ended, it would end well enough. But why this boy, and why Captain Ronsenburg?" A thick Bhujerban accent greets my ears, staccato and distinguished. "An explanation is due, and I will hear it. The Empire's hounds grow passing bold indeed."

"A shame if they learnt the Marquis trafficked with the likes of you," Balthier replies, stepping into the open. The rest of us file into the dim, musty room, surrounded by men and women dressed as common people of the sleazy sort. A gray-skinned bangaa turns, towering over the bold sky pirate. "Agents masquerading as guides. A hideout in the back of a tavern…" He glances toward a man seated at a square table across from us, a woman resting her arms on his shoulder. "Not exactly earning high marks for originality."

Vaan stands across from the table, a man on either side of him. In the back of the room, more people cluster, watching with narrowed eyes and suspicious irritation. The bangaa before Balthier steps closer, snarling.

"Now you've done it!"

"Wait!" the man at the table calls, staring straight at Basch as he steps forward, walking toward Vaan's captors. "So Basch fon Ronsenburg does yet live."

Balthier crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at Fran. The viera makes no move to respond, watching on as Basch recounts the tale of his downfall. I lean against a stack of crates, looking about the room. The citizens absorb the story with wide eyes and cynical scowls alike. Vaan's eyes meet mine and he smiles; I look away as if I never saw that boyish excitement glittering in his gray eyes. Basch finishes speaking, exerting confidence in every word until the very end. The man at the table gives relieved laugh.

"I knew there must be more to it, but to find you at the end of this tale… Ah, to see the Marquis's face when he learns of it.

"I should like nothing more," Basch replies, his voice stern and assertive. "I would meet him, and see for myself." A figure I hadn't noticed before, a tall orange-furred rev that walked with Ondore in the Lhusu Mines, steps from the shadows. The seated man turns to him, eyebrow raised.

"How say you, my lord?"

"There is little to be said," the rev replies, voice deep and accent even thicker than those of the Bhujerbans in the room. "I shall arrange a meeting with the Marquis. We shall expect you at the estate."

"I suppose we should get moving then," Balthier says, scanning over our reassembled group with his arms crossed.

We pile outside the tavern, regrouping outside the doors. It's nearly noon judging by the height of the sun.

"Are we to head straight for the Marquis, then?" I ask, though I'm facing away from the group.

"That's the plan," Balthier replies, thumbs hooked into his pockets. "Unless there's something we should be wary off?"

"Just because I know Larsa doesn't mean I know everything about Bhujerba," I mutter, taking off down the road at a quick pace. Vaan hurries to catch up, waving a hand in my face.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I ignore him, turning the corner and stopping under the sharp gaze of a parijanah. The man looks over all of us as our entire party gathers, waiting impatiently. As he steps aside and we head up the path, I can't help but feel that miserable, cold stone of dread sinking my stomach to my toes. Enemy territory is no stranger of mine, but this is an entirely new and dangerous concept. We plan to march right into his own home and hope that he listens to what Basch has to say, along with freeing Penelo. Fates above, I better be allowed to run for a long time after all this.