II. Remember For One

"Ferocity is lovely on you."

His words sounded mischievous and dirty in his own ears. This was weird and yet so very familiar almost, comfortable. There was now a song intertwining like vines inside his ears, a song without words, don't listen to hard. Fran sighed and rolled her eyes, kneeling in front of him. One eyebrow lifting, examination in floating in eyes so vitreous. She frowned then disappeared. He could use an exceptionally large drink now.

Oh but his head how it ached. He relaxed himself into the floor, lying down and starring at the ceiling, the rubbied chandeliers from a shop in Nalbina. Were they swaying? The gold made him think of wealth, swaying wealth, on ceiling, a cranberry color, lovely ceiling, so nice the ceiling he loved to starring mmmm sleepy...what the hell was he doing. He felt awful tired as that Seeq had slipped some Bhujerba Madhu in his drink. He knew he shouldn't have stopped at that bar but he had a rather active bladder.

Fran reentered the room wearing a petite white nightgown. It was the finest silk and fit like a second skin on her lanky body. It had sharp dip right in between her breast lined with lace and pearls, not like he was looking. Her nude sleeping habits provided not much use for it but she had worn it a few times just to make him happy and happy it made him. Her white hair rippling about her waist with no ties or restraints. A perfect fit for his he thought. He remembered now purchasing it as a Christmas gift for her falling all those years ago...

"What do you mean you don't celebrate Christmas?" A youthful look of innocuous wonder on his face.

"I suppose we are content with being one with the wood."

"Humph, well that m'lady is what I call a big pile of crap."

And there was that familiar look she gave, blank stare of boredom and patience, funny now to see the changeless expression.

He took a large gulp of his wine.

"Now I know you detested the winter but I figure we splurge munificently on goods and have some ridiculously expensive drinks and get so intoxicated neither of us can stand." He had a salacious look of excitement and his knavish eyes twinkled with delight.

Fran always the talkative gave him another blank stare followed by a putative exhale.

"Oh come on Fran it'll be fun! We can dance to those horrific carols and play hard to get with all the losers who get wasted in the bars. Don't tell me this isn't every free Viera's unfulfilled dream. Wait! Wait! You know what I have an idea...erm...aha! We have a contest, whoever gets the most people to buy them drinks gets to be the others servant." He put his hands high above his head his mouth in a serious twist. "I swear, I swear I won't cheat, I mean you can't even cheat at this! Fran?...Oh come on!"

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After that little speech he had managed to drag her out to a bazaar where he explained in great detail that he would buy her a gift and she would buy him one. This is what happens on Christmas. When perplexed she asked why Humes did this and he explained easily "Well you for many reasons, to give and receive, and well there's that bit about peace on earth and you know every ones greedy."

He bit his lips intensely contemplating his purchase, hmm emerald earrings from Raithwallls Tomb, were her ears pierced?

"Well then why the lights and trees, the bright colors-

Exasperated and slightly annoyed at her failure to recognize his good dead he cut her off

"Darling please just go away and buy me a gift."

Her lips and eyebrows tightened but she solemnly walked away.

"You try my patience Balthier."

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The bar was crowded with the usual holiday misfits. Crying ladies passed Bangaas, fighting Seeqs, and yelling men. Oh this was Christmas to its finest, night of the drunks, long live the wine. Lonely rats eating together to feel worth something when their insides were bare. Hungry for everything but nothing to satisfy such a picky appetite. Guarded souls with nothing to steal but contempt and emptiness. Useless lives and tired feet tracking mud and tears from lost loves and fights. Sad to see such sad creatures fawn over the devils drink when there was nothing to gain but a headache and addiction. The bar had wall to wall inhabitants. It was only twelve and already there had been blood brawls and pucking. The wreaths hung off center on the sconces and it seemed the chandeliers would burst from the pubs rumpus. It smelt of dried vinegar and wine, then of course their was a deep rapacity that was slightly overwhelming as well. Scuffed wooden floors, beaten chairs and stools, everything seemed overused and haggard it made him feel indolent. As if he could just lie on the ground and be trampled to death. Time to place his attentions somewhere else.

He decided to use his winsome towards some older woman who was half sober and had strawberry colored hair. He didn't need to turn on much of his seduction before she wickedly slapped his ass and offered him a drink. Too easy. As they sat bar he winced after tasting the bars merlot not all wine got better with age. He licked the inside of his mouth bitterly, his face slightly scrunched from disappointment. They lady didn't seem to notice. She began to plunge into this long explanation about how bartenders these days weren't trustworthy. He raised his eyebrows skeptically, could poison be lurking in his glass, it was rather horrid. Lucky he had a couple of Antidotes on him. He was in his own world, not one of the woman's childish syllables coursed through his ears. He remembered to put his chin on automatic, nodding every now and then so he'd look as if he was captivated by her foolishness.

His eyes began to search frantically around the hell hole for a pair of long ears and snow like hair. She shouldn't be hard to find Vieras were and still are scarce. He spotted her chatting with some young bloke with a hearty laugh. He looked rather confident with his swanker attitude, hair brushing his shoulders, dark it was, his skin a brassy tan. Rather built actually, his muscles and shapely. Large hands. He looked much more ostentatious then Fran. They were on the second floor balcony. The males hand dug into the ligneous railing as if his staunch grip would keep him from filling his puerile wish to touch her. Though he seemed rather optimistic and composed there was something insecure and maladroit about his confidence. Fran had some distant look on her face as if she knew this whole thing was rather idiotic, which it was.

Balthier squinted to get a better look. His eyebrows kissing. Wait was macho man actually lifting his arm? More then that he went to touch her hand. The nerve! Fran stoically turned away, a rather cold line resemble her mouth. That was his partner, not even the young and handsome could make her heart feel the slightest flutter. A thousand dove's songs were too silent. Surprising the male didn't seem troubled by this and leaned over with a lascivious aura and whispered in her ear. Balthier braced himself for Fran's fist against the chap's solid jaw. He could see it now, the fellow falling from the balcony onto someone stable which would result in him hushing the whole thing up by paying some fault being money he did not have.

Much to his utter shock when she heard his words placed in her tall velvet ears...

WAIT A SECOND... was he seeing right...no the glare...such a glare...Fran...did she actually smile? After all he had only one glass of port. This couldn't be happening, in the six months he'd known her the most emotion she showed was a sigh and that was only when he was his most annoying self. No this was false, Fran was phlegmatic and passive and expressionless. It was all wrong. He felt an inch of jealousy slowly creep into his bloodstream and of course that was enough to start the boil. If anyone could make her smile it should be him. I mean he was young but he was comical. For Lord's sake just last night-

"Young man I know someone your age may have never seen a Viera before and are astounded by their lack of clothing but it is completely rude when a lady of my ranking expensive galls of wine to gawk at that animal."

The next thing that came was uncalled for, yet some alcohol and heavy duty testosterone was all he needed.

"You are a disgrace." He roared.

The lady glared with awe at him and began to sniffle.

Balthier felt awful, she wasn't so old though wrinkles appeared lightly around her mouth and temples. She had lovely strawberry hair and radiant green eyes. Freckles dusting her cheeks.

"Oh please do not cry, you have such effulgent eyes." Good be charming. This will definitely mitigate the situation. Boy was he wrong.

"Hey Larry! Some kid made your sister cry."

Oh great look what he had done. Larry, some giant slob so drunk and possessed carried a large mallet. Balthier could through a punch but this guy fist was the size of his head. Breath, the leading man is not a afraid, even though he was only 18 and gonna faint. The leading man never dies.

Giant Larry lifted him by his shirt collar and began to chuckle. His breath smelled of stale whiskey and death. Balthier was gonna puke.

"Could you please keep your mouth closed your polluting my insides."

This so called Larry then decided it would be a splendid idea to spit on his face which he greeted with a smile showing Balthier his decaying teeth.

"Well boys I don't wanna get my hands dirty so I think I'll let you boys do the job."

The bar came to a rather quiet hum when out of his shadows walked twelve plump Seeqs ready to roll with thick daggers in their hands. "Chicken" Balthier muttered under his breath. What now was to become of him his was out numbered. Leading Man never dies. Dear God this is Balthier speaking-

"I wonder boys if you could spare a lick, this man has wronged me far too many times."

The smoky accent. Syrup words fell out like drugs upon his ears. All too familiar, couldn't be happening but it was. A fool to trust someone he knew none about, she just needed some cash and he was but a poor boy. A runaway. Fran was selling him out to an overgrown baboon and twelve sun burnt pigs, after all they'd been through how could she do this to him? Six whole months. They were almost…friends.

Giant Larry, ever the classy one bowed his head with a smug leer. "Well malady my boys do take pride in a good lashing but I think for a lady of your caliber I could make some arrangements." His fat stubby fingers crept their way to her bottom, pinching it slowly. His eyes were wide with lust, he licked his lips salaciously. He gave her a toothy grin as if he was lionizing her; he moved his hand gingerly from her ass to her left breast. The malignant bustard took pleasure in the way she shivered.

Balthier felt immense execration towards him; he could feel her embarrassment and shame. She didn't move, must be traumatized.

Larry's sister hide in a corner her eyes wet and face chrisom. Looking so out of place in the jungle of heathens. The men in the bar adulated Larry, how brave to touch a Viera that way, and her just standing there, what power he must have. It was as id he had given her a gift, she should be so lucky, so auspicious to receive his enthrallment. To surrender to his touch.

Balthier felt sick. His throat itched, his stomach churned. What was she doing? This was not Fran to fall a Damsel and helpless. He had to help her even if she had turned against him. The overgrown ass's attention on the Viera Balthier squeezed out of his grip kneeing the giant in the stomach.

"Zing". Her bow right in his privates. Served the scum right.

The two made a run for the door. Fran the ever brilliant casting float to have them moving quickly across the city. Easily escaping the Seeqs and Giant Larry. Balthier laughed with glee, the two sky pirates had one again! How elating!

"I never doubted you, not for a moment, knew you had my back the whole time." He beamed at her as they approached the hotel in the moonlight leaving the drunken heathens far behind.

Abruptly he hurtled towards the ground tripping on the impact.

"Um Fran thanks for the warning."Balthier slightly irritated at scuffing his new boots.

"No problem" The words sounding strange on her lips.

"I was being sarcastic."

"I know."

She walked briskly to the hotel, her heels clicking like horse hooves on the unsteady pavement. Something was troubling her, this was evident but he wasn't sure what it was. He took a deep breath. Even after their months in partnership he knew nothing about her accept her name that she hardly spoke and was skillful in combat. But Balthier always confident, gusty, and garrulous figured it never hurt to ask.

"My dear partner what is troubling you?" Hid finger tips grazing her shoulder blade.

She wiped around, her long locks smacking his face. "Balthier, I do not know what Hume women are like but us Viera are refined and will not succumb to just any mans touch." Knife eyes, made dark.

So she was upset about that overgrown grease ball, made sense really, he could hardly grasp the disgust she must have felt. A cage beauty free for all to touch. She hurried up the stairs to their rooms then stopped in front of her door and turned to face him. "If there is nothing more you require of me I shall retire."

He sighed and locked his eyes on hers "I'm sorry" was all he could manage. He cared for he so and was so insecure and foolish and afraid about how to consol her. He was still young, what did he know, did she want to be consoled. She nodded her head and then lifted the corner of her mouth into something that could resemble the granddaughter of a smile. Could she know his thoughts? Were they written on his face? She pulled a small box out of her sack of bows and placed it in his hand gently. "Merry Christmas Balthier".

Lying on the floor he fingered the chain she had given him those years ago. Never lost its luster or its placid warmth that filled his lonely hours. After his remembrance he could feel that all too familiar stupid touched look on his face. Fran blotted his head dutifully at the bleeding spots. Always very good with injuries she was. She repaired bones like she repaired the Stral. Though hearts were a more difficult task. Her eyebrows knit now her fingers light and tender. Dancing like a romance.

"Darling do you remember when I gave you that nightgown?

"Yes". She said plainly continuing to blot his head with a kerchief.

"Well" He said sitting up carefully with a smug smile. "Do you remember what you said to me?" His shinned, sunlike, he looked like such a child Fran observed.

"Humph…I believe I said to you it was nice." She remarked a quizzical look on her face. She seemed slightly befuddled at thee importance of this, she couldn't understand his point. Balthier had that cheeky look on his face, a naughty grin as if he knew something they didn't. Fran had learned to ignore him and give him that rather disinterested look. She had resigned from blotting and now began to construct a bandage, if only his incessant babbling words would cease.

"Do you remember last Christmas you got drunk and walked of a boat to Rabanastre and there I was all cross eyed and full of whiskey. Jumping into the sea trying to save you from drowning while I could hardly swim, while you took off your top and began singing gospels about the wood. Do you remember I tried to kiss you as I was up to my ears in water and you were still sober enough to push me away and called me a slob. I mean we were so drunk we had alcohol coming out of our asses for three straight weeks. I couldn't believe how much you loosened up and trust me I was most certainly appalled at your statement that you would beat me silly if I ever gave you alcohol again. Do you remember that? Are Viera such funny drunks? Because if you Fran-

She then lifted him easily and plopped him back on his large bed, let's rephrase that more like she threw him like he was a sack of potatoes, a bag of non-fragile potatoes at that. She now proceeded to the door. Fran, such an odd name for such a mythical creature. He knew they'd wake early tomorrow but she usually slept three hours at most. Must be the mist, was it close. He spoke knavishly now but with a soft voice, innocent yes, one could observe so "Fran I know its silly but my head is quite miserable do you suppose you could rub?". His pink lips pouted something of a gossamer strawberry. He looked rather coy now but she was one never to be easily fooled she gave him a munificent look her white hair calmed now, angelic once more.

She sat down, a feather, a light zephyr leaked onto his white skin. She ran her fingers through his locks like a mother does to a babe. Elegant and long strokes, enervated fingers twisting his hair, like soft dirt, planter's hands. She soothed his soul like no one else. Platonic and pure and safe feelings on his insides. A scorching pain rushed through his veins to his scalp evaporating like water confusion came. She had grabbed a fistful of his amber curls and began to wring him by his hair. Unbelievable! Using this ledgermaine against him to toss him around by his tresses, for Fran this was awfully absurd. Her showing of feeling was little and strong emotions were dearth. He was moved by this burgeon but not her wild and predominate attitude. Was it the mist? The mist was bad, he knew this, not talk but eyes and he knew and had seen tears of a Viera, worse then a child. Dry mud wishing for water. The worst when it fell like rain. Showers of hot pain, burns wishing for ice. No ice today. She released him now, and looked straight ahead. Robotic and freighting as if something in her died. Their was something dark in her eyes, though her face centered to its nothingness, flat mouth and sleeping cheeks. A rose protected by thorns, she may faint, no that was him. He couldn't understand, she hurt him in trickery and rage and he wasn't the least bit upset just stunned and perplexed. Did they have strong olfactory sense these Viera? Could they smell the mist like a young girl smells a rose, the way a wolf smells his super or was it just affable words so weightless fogging her long ears. Such quiet now, the air was tense yet calm. How long had they been their sitting both terribly compassionate and lonely with sleeping eyes and dying mouths. The room smelt like cactoid mangos and metal, it made ones saliva fall stale.

Balthier rolled his lips into pliable shapes and reached for her hand, heavy soft, she didn't move, limp arms as he pressed his lips on her palm, his nose lying against her cool skin.

"I'm sorry I woke you, please rest, I shall not trouble a mind so full with worries of someone so strong."

She rose slowly a plainly obdurate look on her face. But words did slip through the most minute slit…

"I hope I have not hurt you".

"Trust me when you do I'll let you know." Small smile, teasing her.

"Understood". She nodded. Posture up, the glow of the lights, a doxy she was. The parting as always sleep well.

"Goodnight". The warrior gone in the shadows but escaping the mist. No time for thought the lights were out.

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Next Chapter hits Rabanastre and the party...