Friendship is the greatest gift that one can never part with; the rich man is he who grows fat on friendship and the brave man is he who cultivates that plenty in others.

It felt as though her brain had exploded. Behind Penelo's closed eyelids she could see a coruscating kaleidoscope of colour. Pin-wheels and rippling sparks of gold, silver, and proud blue flashed behind her lids. It felt like she was flying, falling, and drowning all at once.

With the confidence and assuredness of someone who has done this so many times as to make of it a habit, Balthier slipped a hand to the small of her back and his fingers spread across her nightgown like a brand sending hot flashes of feeling through her entire body.

Penelo had suspected, in so far as she could be accused of thinking ahead at all, when she reached up to press her lips to Balthier's mouth, that he would calmly and firmly push her away as he had before and make some vaguely snide, but suave, comment before telling her to 'run along back to Vaan' or some such thing.

So when she had felt those strong, long fingered, hands curl over her shoulders she had been completely at ease (already knowing the worst that would happen). She had felt those hands tighten their grip, fingers flexing, and with her lips still pressed to his and her eyes closed, straining on tip-toe, she had waited for him to end the moment before there even was a 'moment' between them.

A split second later and Penelo had realised that it had been incredibly foolish of her to expect Balthier to follow anyone else's script but his own.

Abruptly his hands had slipped from her shoulders; one wrapped around her waist with surprising strength (though he did not crush her against him so that she could not escape, but merely held her steady on her toes) while his free hand cupped her chin.

That was all he did at first to set her whole being on fire as, breath catching and almost drawing back from his lips, Penelo had realised that something was happening.

His lips against hers were still but it felt as if some tremendous gravitational pull, equal in the power of a huge magnet, kept her from drawing back from him and the kiss that was not a kiss.

When he began to idly stroke her throat under her tilted chin it had felt like every nerve ending in her body was connected to that patch of skin he tenderly brushed with just the pad of his thumb over her tingling flesh.

Her eyes had popped open and her lips parted in surprise just a fraction and that was when he had truly kissed her.

He didn't force his probing tongue into her mouth; in fact she didn't feel his tongue at all. He simply kissed her lips as chastely as he would kiss her cheek or her hand when he was playing the part of the courtly rogue. It was enough. It was too much.

Now Penelo felt like her insides had become water and threatened to drop between her legs as if she was a leaky bucket (not a pretty metaphor but then Penelo had little experience of the artful side of seduction – or in fact any form of seduction).

She was set all a-quiver by little more than Balthier's thumb rubbing a circle against her bobbing throat, as with deft co-ordination, he started to stroke the tip of his finger behind her ear, at the very sensitive spot where her jaw hinged. It made her ticklish and she felt her lips twitching into an involuntary smile as she wriggled just a little in his arms.

Balthier's chuckle reverberated through his chest and into hers as she leaned against him. That wickedly confident, impossibly adult sound lodged under her breastbone and seemed to squeeze her heart. That chuckle spoke volumes in a language Penelo did not understand and which Balthier spoke fluently.

Penelo was not prepared – for how could she be? – when Balthier brushed a trail of fire hot, soft as a butterfly's wings, kisses down the line of her jaw from her lips to her ear; if it had been physically or Humely possible Penelo would have melted into a puddle at his feet right then and there.

Balthier seemed to know this because he dropped his other hand to her waist and hoisted her easily around to place her halfway up the ramp to the Strahl. This put her at head height with him and allowed her to comfortably rest her hands on his shoulders.

If it had all ended there Penelo would have been happy, giddy even, truth be told. If she had been forced to walk straight to the Bahamut and fight the Empire right then she would have done so with a silly smile on her face and her eyes heavy with a languid sort of dreamy stupor.

Of course Penelo was still a girl and girls were satisfied with that sort of thing. Balthier was a man – and he was not yet satiated.

When he kissed her again, hands holding her firm by the waist, it was not chaste. It was no awkward, messy mesh of tongues but a deliberate, calculated, attempt to draw her soul right out through her tonsils and leave her nothing more than a whimpering, over-sensitised mess on the hangar floor (or at least this was Penelo's view and an accurate description of her feelings).

Frightened that she might scatter to the four winds or shatter under the sheer deluge of sensation, she reached out blindly to grasp his sleeves to keep from falling down. The feel of soft, pettable, cotton and lace under her fingers almost made her stomach roll over.

Her brain was long gone, bouncing and floating on wave after wave of something akin to wild excitement that could almost be a form of panic.

'm….mm!...mm' her fingers clawed reflexively into those sleeves and hooked into the lacings that joined the sleeves to the main body of the shirt. The feel of strong solid shoulders underneath the soft whisper of cloth made her whimper even louder.

'…..mmm?'

Ivalice no longer existed at all for Penelo, all that she knew was the sensation of hanging from a kiss that never seemed to end and wondering, really, why she would ever want to do anything else, or be anywhere else, ever again?

Balthier's hands on her waist were still and held her just a little away from his body. She felt quite safe in that grip. As long as it was just his lips on hers and the faintest promise of teeth like a tease against her bottom lip, she did not feel the need to fear him.

Strangely peaceful her mind floated away to reminisce on yesteryear. Unsurprisingly her memories gravitated to her first ever 'adult' kiss (at the age of eleven) which had been, unsurprisingly, with Vaan. Penelo remembered it vividly.

She remembered how Vaan had grabbed her painfully by the shoulders and sort of slammed her against his chest. Then his tongue had pushed into her mouth and sort of swished about inside for a moment; needless to say that had been their only kiss. Neither one of them had enjoyed the experience, and both had agreed to never speak of it again.

'……mmm…..mm…'

The present condensed down to blinding shivers of pure physical sensation as she was drawn inexorably back into her body. The fabric friction of her cotton nightgown bunching and wrinkling against her skin, as strong, confident hands moved minutely over it, nearly stole her breath away.

If her eyes weren't tight closed she was sure she would be crying from the simply overwhelming intensity when Balthier lifted one hand to gather a handful of her unbound blonde hair and pull it idly through his fingers from her scalp to the tip.

She really felt she might explode, or sprout wings and burst like a rocket through the roof of the aerodrome hangar and up into the night sky beyond the stars.

'mmmm...oooooommmm,'

'Shhh,' he breathed against her lips and Penelo finally heard the strange mewling sounds that she had been making for some time now, 'Stop that. It is oddly arousing and I am trying to regain control of this……situation.'

'Huh?'

It was neither intelligent nor sophisticated but Penelo did not care. All she cared about was the fact that Balthier was plucking her fingers from his shirt and had already stepped away from her.

Like a lily bending towards the sun Penelo leaned toward him anyway, intent on falling back into his arms. She felt languid and slow and almost intoxicated.

No one had ever touched her like he did. In fact no one had ever treated her like he did; ignoring and denigrating her as a child one moment and talking seriously to her about all manner of personal things the next. It shocked Penelo to realise that she did not want to lose this strange – something – she had with Balthier.

Perhaps that had been the reason she had chased him through the Balfonheim streets in the first place?

Penelo wasn't even really conscious of moving but she must have done for Balthier took another step back and raised his hand as if to ward her off, 'That's close enough I think. Be a good girl and stay there.'

Penelo blinked at him confused as Balthier tugged at his cuffs distractedly and shook his head, deliberately not looking at her, 'I really think it is high time you were abed, my dear,' for a moment an odd expression passed across his expression, 'by that I mean, of course, your own bed.'

He added, unnecessarily, in Penelo's opinion, but then Balthier appeared a trifle nervous – or flustered, which considering how little time he spent emoting when his father evaporated before his eyes and Fran almost died was somewhat shocking to Penelo.

'But – why?' Suddenly nervous now that Balthier was refusing to look at her and with the memory of her previous fear of being alone still a black mark on her consciousness, Penelo began to wring her hands together.

'Why she asks?' Balthier threw his hands up in the air suddenly irritable, 'I should just shoot myself now and be done with the whole sorry mess.' he muttered. 'Fran will emasculate me for this without a doubt.'

Penelo, still standing on the ramp where he had put her, watched in total confusion as he turned his back and began to walk away from the Strahl. She had a moment of encroaching panic as the quiet and stillness of the night-time hangar closed in on her again and then Balthier threw her a look over his shoulder.

'Well come on then, girl, chop, chop.'

He actually clicked his fingers as if hailing a pet or domesticated beast of burden. Penelo just stared at him, eyes very wide and breathing quickening as the euphoria of his touch left her and she came down with a bump and jolt.

Balthier turned about to face her, scowling, 'Do you want to walk yourself back to the Manse or are you intending to sleep on the hangar floor, hmm?'

Penelo could only continue to stare at him as the blood froze in her cheeks and her heart squeezed closed, 'You are getting rid of me?'

'Ah, so you catch on at last,' he purred snidely and jerked his head at her, not even bothering to click his fingers this time. Penelo's hands curled into fists so tight she could feel her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. She shook her head, too furious to dare speak.

Balthier sighed, undoubtedly able to sense the fury and hurt that radiated from her body in almost visible waves. 'Penelo….'

'Why?' The volume of her hurt and confusion bounced from the high ceiling of the hangar and rippled through the grey and black patchwork of the night. Balthier closed his eyes and shook his head.

Tears stung Penelo's own eyes as she whipped about on her toes and ran up the ramp and into the Strahl. He would not be getting rid of her that easily.

One man says he sees all things in black and white relief. Another says that everything is shades of gray but I prefer to see in colour; me thinks it best that way.

'Penelo?'

She heard Balthier call after him and then she heard his muttered Archadian curses as he bounded up the ramp in pursuit.

'What are you playing at? Come back out here this instance.'

Without hesitation she ran through the narrow, claustrophobic, corridor of the minuscule sleeping area of the Strahl and shoved open the door that she knew led to Balthier's cabin.

She didn't spare a glance at her surroundings (even though neither she nor any other member of the party, save Fran, had been allowed to enter the 'captain's cabin'). Instead she threw herself down on the narrow bunk bolted to the wall and had time to brush her nightgown carefully down over her knees before Balthier appeared in the threshold looking less than impressed.

'Are you insane?' he inquired in very cool tone. 'Or are you merely trying my patience on purpose?'

It was difficult to look defiant while lying flat on her back in his bunk, the scent of him rising from his pillow curling through her brain and setting her stomach to twirling with a strange excitement despite her predicament. Silently she shook her head.

Balthier closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorframe, 'Penelo, whatever you are trying to prove, or if you are simply hysterical, I have neither the energy nor the inclination to indulge you tonight.'

He straightened from the doorframe and tried to affix his usual cool indifferent mask upon his face, but some deeper motion, be it irritation mere fatigue or something else, prevented him from completely expunging all expression. To Penelo he looked tired and just a little harassed.

'Tomorrow we could all die a long and protracted death and I want to be at my best,' he began again doing his utmost to patronise her, 'so be a good girl and run along now, hmm?'

He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers against the furrow in his brow as if he had a sudden headache.

'You kissed me.'

His eyes opened and he stared at her with rather tired, rather cynical, brown eyes, 'Technically you initiated the contact, for the second time in as many days, I might add.'

Penelo sat up carefully, making sure that her nightgown did not ride up as she pushed upwards and that everything was covered that should be covered.

'You kissed me back. You kissed my neck and stroked my hair. Your hands were on me.'

Penelo felt a little like a laundry woman pulling out the memory of all that had passed between them like freshly washed sheets to be hung out on the line to dry. She wanted to try and make sense of it all.

Balthier winced, 'I know.' the confession came out on a long suffering sigh.

He did not sound happy about any of what had happened and Penelo felt heat and shame creep under her skin, 'Did I do it wrong is that why you are suddenly so cold? Did I make a mistake?'

She wasn't sure what motivated the question except that for the first time it had dawned on her that a man (a real one, not Vaan, who she had known since they were both in the cradle) could touch her and not make her sick with fear.

Tonight she had learned that she could feel something other than helpless as a Dreamhare in the teeth of a Worgen when being touched by a man. She wasn't quite sure what she had felt, precisely, but whatever it was she'd enjoyed it.

Balthier was staring at her as if he would dearly like to be anywhere but stuck in a room with her and Penelo felt suddenly small and hideous. She hunched her shoulders and tucked her knees up against her chest, assuming her near foetal protective stance.

Balthier sighed and entered the cabin flopping into the chair by the tiny round table bolted to the floor, the only other pieces of furniture (save the closed cupboards fitted into the wall) within the tiny cabin.

'Of course you haven't done anything wrong,' he finally admitted, though he did not sound particularly friendly towards her either as he fixed her with remote and opaque dark eyes, 'instead I find myself to blame. I am a grown man; I should be governed by something more than libido.'

She uncoiled a little as Balthier leaned his head back against the wall of the cabin behind him and closed his eyes. Suddenly it occurred to her that in mere hours he would be expected to fly them halfway across Ivalice and it probably wasn't a good idea that he should be up so late.

Still she could not bring herself to leave. She didn't want to leave and it wasn't just because the idea of being alone in her borrowed room in the Manse waiting for the dawn, and perhaps the last day of her life, filled her with gut-churning panic.

In need of a distraction Penelo looked about her at the room and for the first time noticed that the wall across from the bunk was lined with clocks.

Walnut framed circular clocks and clocks with swinging pendulum, clocks made of brass with strange pictograms instead of numbers, and clocks carved of dark hued word and worked with runes; Penelo had never seen so many clocks outside of a clockmakers shop.

Once she had noticed them she also recognised the strange disparate ticking sound that she had barely noticed before, but which now sounded impossibly loud, came from each one of the clocks. She frowned as she realised that each clock, whether it be round, square, wood, glass or brass was all telling a different time.

Fascinated Penelo rose and walked over to the wall, passing very close to Balthier as he lounged in the chair, as she looked up at the clicking and ticking clocks.

After a while the noise of hundreds of different seconds counting down to a different beat smoothed out into a strange melody like the irregular beating of a dozen heartbeats.

'You must like clocks.'

Penelo winced at her own foolishness and looked sharply over at Balthier who was watching her with a droll expression and one elbow resting on the table top and chin propped on his fist.

'Hmm.'

'They all tell a different time; which one is right?'

Balthier roused himself to answer, 'They all are. Each tells the time of one of the capital cities of Ivalice. I travel widely and like to know when I am as well as where I am.'

Penelo glanced at him and toyed with the question on the tip of her tongue, but let in die unspoken. Balthier sighed and spoke with his eyes closed as he eased a crick from the back of his neck.

'Third from the left; the one of the coloured glass; that is Dalmascan time.'

Penelo blinked but did not waste breath verbalising her surprise that he would know what she had not had courage to ask him. Quietly she moved over to the coloured glass clock with the filigree gold hands.

'The sun hasn't even set back home.'

She whispered, marvelling at how strange it was that back in Rabanastre all the people she had left behind were still living out the day that she had already lost. It seemed so strange to think that she was plunging forward towards the dawn and they had yet to say goodnight to yesterday's sun.

'Hmm, and in Laksheem in westermost Rozzaria the sun on the day before this one has yet to rise. Ivalice is vast, Penelo, no matter what it seems, somewhere there is always time left.'

She turned towards him a smile touching her lips, 'That sounds nice; sometimes I think that everything goes too fast and I'm running to catch up,' she sighed and tried not to twist her hands before her.

'Sometimes it seems like I spend all my time chasing just to find that when I've caught up I've lost everything I had before. It would be nice to go backwards and steal back yesterday.'

To her surprise Balthier chuckled and she turned towards him, 'Once, when I had little else to do, I 'appropriated' an airship and decided to race the sun. Started on the eastern-most islands of the Empire, where they say the sun rises first, and attempted to circumnavigate my way around Ivalice with the sun at my heels.'

Penelo stepped closer drawn in both by the story and by the softly wistful tone of his voice, 'What happened?'

A strange smile brushed his lips, neither cynical nor smug, 'Somewhere near the Rozzarian border with the great Deyba Desert beyond the Sandsea, some twenty-eight hours into my flight, I fell asleep and crashed the ship.'

Penelo's eyes widened but Balthier further surprised her by laughing again and his eyes seemed lightened by a genuine mirth.

'Gods, I haven't thought about that in years.' He shook his head, 'I couldn't have been more than eighteen – hadn't even made Fran's acquaintance at the time, nor gained possession of the Strahl.'

Penelo edged closer as Balthier seemed lost in a reminiscence that suffused his usually cool, almost haughty, features with unusual warmth.

'Did you get hurt?'

He looked up at her as she came to rest just before him, her nightgown swathed legs brushing his knees, 'Hmm?'

'In the crash?'

Balthier looked amused and his face was more open than she had even seen it, even as his eyes clouded with a sweetened patina of comfortable memory.

'No, no; at least nothing that I have bothered to remember. Had the luck to witness the most spectacular of sunrises when the sun finally caught up with me as the airship burned; the first time I had ever seen the sun rise over the desert I believe.'

Penelo hesitated fidgeting on her feet as her knees brushed his. 'Did you draw it?'

He looked at her curiously and she swallowed before repeating her question, 'Did you draw the sunrise?'

For a long moment she thought he would not answer her and she began to feel uncomfortable as he looked steadily seemingly right through her. After a moment he shifted and sat up straighter in his chair, 'As a matter of fact, I think I did.'

Penelo bit her lip on a tiny little smile, obscurely pleased that she knew him well enough to have guessed right. Balthier was still watching her and the pull of his eyes drew her head up to look on him.

'You have absolutely no intention of going back to your room, do you?'

Penelo twisted her hands together and shook her head mutely. Balthier sighed and reached out to untangle her knotted hands. Still holding one of her hands in each of his he rose smoothly from the chair and turned her around, leading her by her captured arms, toward the bunk.

'You have perhaps three hours, Archadian time, to sleep before I will forcibly evict you from my ship to dress and make ready for travel.'

Balthier pushed her down by the shoulders onto the bunk, 'Therefore I suggest you go to sleep, my girl, for come tomorrow this cabin will be off limits to all.'

Penelo blinked up at him, once more wrong footed by his mercurial change in mood, 'What about you; shouldn't you get some sleep too? This is your bunk, after all.'

Penelo had already reasoned that Balthier did not sleep much at the Manse but instead preferred to sleep aboard his ship even while docked in the aerodrome hangar.

Balthier shook his head, an oddly impish smirk playing over his lips as he crouched before her on the floor.

'That bunk is a tad too narrow for two,' he looked up at her with dark eyes swimming with a hidden mirth that seemed to mock her and celebrate her in equal measure, 'Rest assured my dear, you and I shall never sleep together.'

Penelo flinched even as the blood in her veins combusted with embarrassment, 'I…I did not……why not?'

The words were out before she could stop them and Penelo almost recoiled at her own audacity. Balthier smirked with his usual drolly sardonic amusement but his eyes did not seem quite so distant. Laughing behind his mask the whole time he clasped her face in both hands gently as he leaned toward her.

'Because I am far too fond of you, my dear, to ruin such a friendship,' he whispered against her lips even as he kissed her.

Penelo closed her eyes and leaned in towards that kiss, feeling like a freshly unfurled flower as it opens to the sun's first light. He pulled away before she was ready to come back down out of the clouds and swiftly rose to his feet.

'Sweet dreams, dearest,' he called back from the cabin's threshold with dapper cheer, 'For we could all be dead on the morrow.'

As last words went at least his had the benefit of being prophetic, Penelo would come to think, three days later when Ashe finally called off the search for bodies amid the Bahamut's wreckage.

If memory and prejudice is all that separate us from the animals then take me to the wild things and leave me be. My heart is heavy and my mind cannot forget.