A/N: Thank you once again to my lovely reviewers: kissychan, Drink. Juice, TheAngel'sLover, Baschashe, and Lady of Balfonheim. :)

I debated for a while about what timeframe to write; I had decided, after a conversation with Drink. Juice to write just after Ashe's talk with the Occuria, but that wasn't working how I liked, so I went with just after Ashe destroyed the Sun-Cryst, but before Bahamut.

I've had to do an insane amount of writing lately--I mean INSANE--so that's what took me so long on this. And this chapter was written while I was very frazzled, extremely caffeinated, and at a very late hour. Let's hope it's intelligible. ;)


Year 706

Ashe was sitting on the edge of the low stone wall that looked over the harbor in Balfonheim Port, dangling her feet in the water, her boots placed neatly beside her. In the fading sunlight, she looked small and forlorn, very unlike the woman that Basch had come to know during this journey. In her posture, however, he could see something of the girl he had once known, back when she had let her guard down more than she did now.

Vaan and Penelo had run off somewhere, and Balthier and Fran had chosen to remain inside the inn and have a drink (or four) in preparation for the morning's flight to the Bahamut. Basch had walked with Ashe out to the harbor, and he sat with her in comfortable silence--though with his feet out of the water.

She hadn't spoken more than a few words since their earlier conversation with Al-Cid. She hadn't really spoken much at all since their departure from the Pharos at Ridorana, but he could tell that she was thinking over everything that had happened. She had faced her crucial moment and she had overcome, putting an end to the Sun-Cryst. She had faced her father's murderer and Basch had faced his brother--but even that had still been Ashe's fight.

Ashe swirled her toe around the water, still staring out at the darkening horizon, before breaking her silence. "No matter what tomorrow brings us, I am at peace with myself for the first time in a very long time."

"You did well, my lady," Basch told her quietly.

"It was not only me," Ashe replied, shaking her head. "I've thought on it a great deal. All of you helped me see. Vaan and Penelo, who daily reminded me of what I wanted Dalmasca to be again. Balthier, who proved to care enough for something other than treasure to try to put me on the right path. You." She glanced at him. "Judge Gabranth sealed it with his own words when he said, 'What of your broken kingdom's shame? The dead demand justice.' I suppose, truly, it was your words that made me understand. There was something you said to me when Larsa first approached me about working with Archadia. I have thought on it often." Her voice was very quiet, and her gaze was back on the water. "You told me that if you could save even one person from war's horror, then you would bear any shame proudly. When Gabranth spoke to me of Dalmasca's shame, I realized--how could I do any less than bear that shame if that is what my kingdom needed? If that was my duty? Dalmasca did not need revenge. It needs restoration." She spoke so softly that he had to lean toward her to hear her next words. "Yet...it is still not over. What if I fail?"

"You have already succeeded in more ways than perhaps even you know," Basch replied. Ashe had become the leader that she had always been destined to become. She had passed through the fire and the trials and she had stood strong. She was everything Basch had ever hoped she would be as his future queen. He was not sure that she could see that about herself, but whatever happened on the Bahamut, she had proven herself to be exactly the ruler Dalmasca needed. Despite everything she had suffered, despite every death and betrayal, she had held onto something that many others would have lost: her compassion. He had witnessed it on frequent occasions during their journey together. He had watched her stop to speak to a child in Rabanastre who was requesting one gil for a story, and she had given the child a handful of gil and some food to go with it. He had watched her give her only spare blanket to a refugee on Mt. Bur-Omisace. He had seen her tend to Penelo when the girl spent one night sick after eating some bad fish. He had watched, just today, as she comforted Vaan upon Reddas's death. Even after facing Gabranth, after facing the form of Rasler that the Ocurria had been creating, after making one of the most momentous decisions in her life, her thoughts had not been for herself. He had observed many other kindnesses on her part, and each one had only showed him evermore that she was worthy of the task placed upon her shoulders.

She looked over at him again, seeming about to speak, but as soon as her eyes met his, she closed her mouth and blinked at him. It was only then that he realized how he was staring at her. There was a strange moment between them then that seemed to last an eternity but was probably only an instant, where everything was suspended and it was just them. It was a moment of absolute clarity, where he did not just see Ashe as his future queen, nor even as the friend he so treasured.

It was a moment that utterly terrified him and exhilarated him in a way he had never before experienced. It was all he could do to drag his gaze away from hers, his heart pounding strangely loud in his ears, wondering what madness had overcome him.

Ashe certainly didn't help matters when she reached out a hesitant hand and gently touched his cheek, turning his face back toward her. She could have no idea how much that simple gesture set an aching knot in the pit of his stomach. How long had it been since anyone had touched him in a way that was kind? Sometime long before Nalbina, he was sure, before the months of imprisonment had taken their toll on his body and the only touch he had received had been in the form of beatings.

Ashe's hand lifted to trace across his scar and down the side of his scruffy face. He sat perfectly still, sure that he should be moving, moving away from her, sure from the expression on her face that he could not simply sit there. Before he could decide to move, Ashe pulled her hand away, curling her fingers into a fist. "Basch, I--" But she stopped and shook her head slightly, looking completely away from him so that he couldn't read her expression at all. After a minute of silence, she turned back to him and there was a very small smile curving the corners of her mouth. "I suppose I should rest for a while. We'll soon be leaving for the Bahamut."

She began to pull her boots back on, and Basch stood to his feet, waiting for her to finish so he could escort her back to the inn. His heart was still racing far faster than it should have been. They walked back to the inn in silence, but Basch couldn't quite call it a comfortable silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, either, but it was full of revelations that he did not want to face. Yet trying not to think about them only made him realize even more what had happened, and he did not know what to do with it.

Balthier and Fran were still sitting at a table in the inn, and Ashe murmured a quiet, "Thank you, Basch," before quickly disappearing to her room.

It wasn't until she was out of sight that Basch's heart slowed down and he felt like he could properly take a breath again. Then he sank down at one of the tables and buried his face in his hands. Gods, why had this happened? She was his princess, and he knew very well that their duties lay in separate venues. Not only that, but he was near twice her age. He had watched her as a child; he had guarded her and guided her and...and this was not supposed to have happened. He had nothing to offer her, could not ever offer her anything even if he did have something.

Words that Ashe had spoken to him on her wedding day rang suddenly through his mind. "Have you ever loved, Basch?"

"Not as such."

Basch closed his eyes tightly, even as a hand suddenly clapped on his back and Balthier said, "Come have a drink, my good man. You certainly look as though you could use one."

Basch frowned into his hands, and he did the only thing he really could do under these circumstances. He focused on his duty to Ashelia as her protector. His duty toward her outweighed anything else, and that was all he could cling to at that moment. It had to be enough to hold him steady, for her sake.

It was certainly not the first time he had placed his duty and responsibilities over anything he might have desired for himself, and he knew, in the wake of his sudden awareness of what had been happening between him and Ashelia, that it was certainly not going to be the last.