"Fran!"

I leapt to my feet, as I was overcome by a different pain…one that was both agonizing and driving and I had never experienced before in my life. I could practically feel the razor sharp fangs gnawing at my arm as I watched her struggle against the King Malboro. I felt my pockets and belt, but my gun had been lost in the crash. I looked around frantically, almost racing in with my bare knuckles as my weapon of unfortunate choice, but saw a decorative broadsword, taken from some mantelpiece above a rich man's fireplace.

I'd never used one in my life, but I had no time to be picky. I clasped it in my hands, swung it high over my head, and brought it down on the Malboro. I met no resistance. It gave a strangled hiss as the left side of its head dropped from the rest of its body. As its mouth gaped wide in dying wails, Fran stumbled backwards from its jaws.

It thrashed, inching away desperately, I wouldn't let it get away alive. As it started to slink backwards, I raised the sword again, and swung it horizontally, right in between its jaws. The top half of its teeth slipped off, and the vile creature fell, drowning in a pool of its own acidic blood and catching aflame. Like the one-eyed monster in the Sochen Cave Palace, the Malboro's brain was not located in the head. The Cyclop's was located in his gut, but the King Malboro's was located in its mouth.

Breathing so heavily that my shoulders heaved, I let the broadsword slip from my numb fingers and fall into the grass, sticking into the hard soil. I slowly turned to see Fran struggling to remain on her feet. Then, I saw the whites of her eyes, and she slumped awkwardly onto the grass. My feet moved before the rest of my body, and I almost fell, and raced towards her at an awkward limp.

"Fran!" The whole of her right arm looked as if it had been dumped in oil and lit on fire. Burns and cuts from its teeth riddled her arm, all the way to her shoulder where a semi-circle of puncture wounds had ripped her cotton shirt in shreds. "Oh Fran…" I crouched above her, confused and stricken with a fear so great that my chest became cold.

My mind was racing, trying to think of what to do. But my thoughts were constantly interrupted by that bloody image, freezing my mind over, making it difficult to think, to respond. So I discarded thinking altogether then, and focused on her face. With a shaky gasp, I slipped my arms under her. I heaved her into my arms, her head heavy against my chest, and stumbled into the airship. Fran was all muscle, but surprisingly light. It frightened me, as I carried her into the airship. She always seemed too strong and unshakable. Yet now, she felt cold and weak in my matching arms. It felt as if she would snap in half and break if I held her too tightly, but slip out of my grasp if I did not clutch her with the same gentle strength.

But I couldn't help but touch her arm and shoulder as I carried her, and she was doing all she could not to cry out. As I scaled the stairs, I felt her nails dig into my skin, to the point of drawing blood.

I eased her onto the hallway bed, in too much of a rush to take her into the back rooms. She roused slightly as I did, her eyes falling to the blood on my chest. Before she could question it, I dashed into the back rooms. After shoving numerous things out of the way, breaking the majority of them, I came back with a pitcher of wine.

She stretched out her wounded arm, understanding enough, and I poured the jar's contents over her skin. She snapped her head back against the pillow and her whole body seized up, but she did not protest at my unorthodox treatment. I only knew what I was doing so well because Ranshal had told me over and over again that since you will usually be around drinks when you are hurt in a fight that sometimes it was the most practical way to quickly clean a wound. And I was certain that the King Malboro's bite was poisonous.

I drenched her shirt as I cleaned her shoulder, and the cloth stuck against her skin. Mentally crying out, I dropped the pitcher and tore what remained of the cloth away, exposing the extent of the wound, and the rest of her torso. I had imagined such a scenario before, but Fran had never been so pale or drenched in blood, though, maybe wine. But I had never felt so sick. I felt bile rise in my throat and I looked away, gathered my breath.

"Stay with me Fran." I said breathlessly, my words heavy as I draped one of my spare shirts across her chest.

"I just need rest." She said, swallowing convulsively between each word.

"No…you, we need to get you help." I said. I stood, kicking the mess of debris out of my path and forced my way to the cockpit. The windshield was broken, and it would be dangerous to fly with such a gust. If the ship could even fly. I heard Nono yelp, and whimper, as he came out of the back room and saw Fran's condition.

"Ffamran…!" He wailed, as if I had not already seen what state she was in.

"I know!" I shouted back. "I'm trying!" I looked back at the sparking keys. "I'm trying..."


The night was long. I rotated between the engine room and a stool in the hall, trying to patch up the ship enough to fly it and trying to patch up Fran enough so she would survive the worst. I tried once to use a healing spell, but I only burnt my fingers. Worried I would accidently hurt her even more, I gave up magic. I just stayed beside her so I could watch over her, useless as I was. I tied a patch over her shoulder, and draped another over the burns on her arms. My eyes lingered over her tight face. Her ears were pressed low, and quivered; her only expression of pain. I pushed my face into my hands.

What a useless partner I was. How many times had I been injured and she taken care of me? She always knew what to do. I pulled my face out of my hands, and returned to the cockpit.

As the sun peeked over the field, Fran awoke to the loud hum of the engine starting. I had finally succeeded in rousing the wounded ship from her stupor, and she was reluctantly responding to my frantic button-pushing and angry kicks to the engine.

"You're as pale as a hume, and your arm is ready to fall off." I said to Fran, as I passed by her bed. She tried to sit up, her crimson eyes wide in alarm and her ears straight up, brushing against the low ceiling. "I'm taking you to a doctor." I explained. She closed her eyes and whispered something inaudible. I dropped my ear to her lips.

"Where?" She whispered. I hesitated, my lips clamped tightly shut around the answer. But somehow, Fran saw it dangling from my mouth.

"Archadia…? You fool…!" I was surprised she still had the energy to scold me, but if I hadn't stepped away, I would have been cuffed in the ear. But that took too much energy still, and she sunk back into the bed. "By returning, you will surely be captured! This airship will be spotted miles away…!" She paused to breathe, and I heard the air whistle out of her mouth in high rasps. "There are plenty of sound navigators in cities afar, my life is not worth such a sacrifice." I snapped my eyes to hers and held her gaze until her eyes flickered away.

"…You mean for me to leave you behind?" I clarified. She did not move, but I knew her well enough to accept the silent gesture as an affirmative. I stood suddenly, pointing a finger her way in mixed anger. "You viera always speak as if you know exactly what is the most logical reply! It is absolutely infuriating! Do not sell yourself so easily, Fran! I could steal another airship if this one is recovered, if we are both alive. Together we could make a daring escape that would put us in Sky Pirate history, but we can do none of that if you are dead!" I knelt beside her and adjusted the shirt, as it had moved and slipped when she sat up, better over her chest. "Where on Ivalice could I find another quite like you…?" My voice sounded surprisingly weak, so I cleared my throat. "If you die, then there are no beings good enough to accompany me in the skies. I could be a Sky Pirate no longer." Our eyes locked, hers so full of unreadable emotion that they seemed to overflow. "Now…Just stay alive until I can get us there."

Her lips tugged at a weak smile, and she looked away, trying to clear her expression.

"In so many ways…you are still a child…" I stood and put my back to her.

"Not the answer I wanted to hear, so I'll pretend I didn't hear it."

The ship had lost all of its unnecessary functions. The crash had limited its energy reserves, and I could only spare enough to keep the engine running and the glocair rings spinning.

The cloaking device was scrapped as well, and the airship flew into Arcadia exposed. I obeyed all trafficking laws, gripping the wheel with fists. All my better judgment told me I should be speeding, and performing the wild maneuvers that would get me to my destination in half the time. But I could not risk being noticed. Perhaps what I called my better judgment was really not. Thankfully, the ship was sturdy, and despite her outer injuries of dents and cracks, from below, she appeared to be any other hand-me-down craft. I flew her silently into the back hanger of Draklor Laboratories.

I unfastened my seat belt and ran back to Fran.

"We're here." I said. But she did not respond. Her face was pale and clammy. I touched her cheek, and felt a burning heat bite at my fingertips. A viera's normal temperature was already hot, and her fever was scalding. She looked much too far gone already. I lifted her into my arms, and kicked the stairwell open.


"Doctor Ranshal!" I cried, shoving the door open with my back. "Ranshal! Help!" The nurses hurried to my side, but I held fast onto the woman in my arms, frightening them away with my wild eyes. I felt her skin burn me through the thin layers of cloth, and her long legs dangled almost to the floor. I wished I were taller. Another nurse tried to direct me into a room, but I stayed put. I would allow only one person to take her from me. "I need the doctor. Where is he?" They had backed away from me now, glancing to one another in confusion. "Please!"

"What on Ivalice is going on-!" A white-coated man limped out of an examination room. He was leaning heavier than usual on his cane, but I had been gone for a while. When he saw me, I thought the cane would snap. "Ffamran…?" I hurried over to him, my legs weak and trembling by now. His eyes went wide.

"Ranshal…she…by a malboro…" I exhaled, my eyes stinging. Why was Fran so quiet? "She was protecting me…!" Ranshal put a hand on my back and wordlessly led me into an empty room. I laid Fran on the table as he directed, and backed away. My hands pulled through my hair, tugging painfully. The sleeves of my shirt were dyed red. Everyone treated viera different, but look! Our blood was the same color when it spilled! And for what reason? The same reason as humans. Many humans wouldn't have even done what she did for me!

"All right." Ranshal passed his hand over the wound, mumbling to himself. "Poison has already spread throughout the body…"

"Will you be able to help her?" I cried, horrified as he listed off her injuries. He ignored me, and put his hand an inch or so above her wound.

"Esuena…" He whispered. Fran yelped suddenly, and a purple fluid sprung from her arm and shoulder, just as if it had been squeezed from a sponge. Ranshal quickly dabbed the stuff away, absorbing it into strips of gauze. After he tossed the soiled gauze away, he pressed his hands to her face and neck and arm. His eyes darted from side-to-side under his thick glasses. "Now..." He firmly placed his hand on her shoulder, and Fran flinched in pain at the touch against her raw, charred flesh.

"What are you doing?" I demanded at a yell. "That's hurting her!" But my arms did not move to stop him. I somehow knew that no matter what it looked like, he was helping her. I trusted the man so much. At this point, I had to. He was the only one who could do anything for her now.

"Curaga." A green light pulsed across her skin like the ripples on a pond. As it did, the burns healed and the wounds closed. Her skin returned to the smooth, creamy chocolate shade, with no glossy pink burns or violet puncture wounds. When the last cut sealed over, Ranshal gave a heavy sigh and supported himself on the table. He stumbled backwards and I caught him by his shoulders.

Fran sighed weakly, her head rocking to the side.

"Fran!" I gasped, leaping close. Ranshal straightened his coat, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"She needs rest, Ffamran. As do you." He reached up in to one of the storage cabinets and pulled down what appeared to be white cloth. He shook it out. No, it was a shirt of my favorite style of cotton, with the loose sleeves and button-down front. "Take that ruined shirt off, Ffamran. Wash off as best you can here, but do not leave." I complied eagerly. Fran's blood was precious. Wearing it like that was not right. I'd left the leather vest in the ship, so I had to only strip myself of the bloodied shirt, wash myself in the sink, and pull my arms through the fresh blouse.

Ranshal eased me into the pull-out bed beside the wall and sighed as heavily as I did. Though my exhale was in relief, as I stared at the sleeping viera nearby.

"Ah, Ffamran. Is it true that you are the new Balthier in the skies?" I frowned at him in confusion, so he opened up the highest cabinet, reached far in, and produced a newsletter. On the front page, there was a blurred picture of Fran and I on the hoverbike. The title read Sky Pirates Wreak Havoc on Princess' Celebration. New Balthier and Viera Duo?

"A friend from Dalmasca sent me this. Thought I'd find it amusing."

"I didn't know Balthier had a viera accomplice." I read. Ranshal nodded, touching the scratchy image of Fran's face. The fresh paper creased under his wrinkled fingertips.

"Ah…that he did. She…" He shook his head, dismissing it.

"Do you think I'm turning out like Balthier?" I couldn't help but ask, while giving a sideways smile. Ranshal took the paper away from me and examined it.

"Well, You have the makings, that's for certain…but he never stole from birthday parties." He scolded.

"I returned it." I quickly explained. Ranshal smiled.

"That's my boy…but, Ffamran." He glanced to Fran, then me again. "You need to be certain this is the life you want." I crossed my arms, feeling much like the child he used to scold for staying out late at night unsupervised.

"Why? Do you think I'd rather return as a judge for my father?"

"No, of course not." Ranshal countered. "But the life of a sky pirate is dangerous." My eyes narrowed.

"You think I've yet to realize that?" I waved my arm at Fran. "I would be dead if it weren't for her, twice." Ranshal nodded.

"All right al right…At least you have his personality down already." He cracked an eye open and smiled.

A weak smiled parted my cheeks as well, as we exchanged a silent conversation. It seemed that I'd become rather famous. He started to say something else, and I tried desperately to stay awake and listen, but I couldn't win over the nag of exhaustion that dragged me into the dark, welcoming arms of unconsciousness. I didn't see the glow of a sleep spell on his fingers.


When I woke, I was unnerved by how weak I felt. I could not even lift my head, and my eyes felt as if they had been sewn shut. I focused on controlling my breathing instead. I held a breath in, tightening my muscles to wait for pain. None came. But I did feel something on my hand.

Something soft, moving back and forth over my thumb very slowly. It would have felt nice, but I could not see where the sensation was coming from, so I became worried instead. Especially after the day's past events washed over me like a mist. Slowly collecting, and reminding me how badly I had been injured.

Ffamran!

I struggled with my lids, willing them to open, feeling my heavy lashes flutter and twitch until my eyes parted. I blinked again, and once more, opening them wider each time. I saw my hand was beside my face, and a lighter-toned hand was rested atop of mine. The newly calloused, but still soft, fingers moved back and forth over my hand, in a dream-like pattern. I followed the long fingers to the cuffed wrists and folded arms, and finally to his face, which rested on top of his arms as he leaned onto my bed. His eyes were closed, relaxed, but his brow was creased in worry. Those lines on his forehead did not suit him, and I frowned at their presence on his face. Why was he making such an expression? Discomfort? A great many humes had made those lines at me before, but-

…His fingers were shaking.

To steady them, I slowly closed my fingers over his. The lines on his face deepened, and he opened his eyes as he lifted his head off his arms.

"You are…too young for wrinkles." I said. My voice came out as a weak whisper, but he heard me. The lines vanished, and he closed his eyes tightly. Then he leaned forward and took my hand in both of his and kissed it. His shoulders shook slightly, but he lifted his head and smiled at me. I felt my eyes sting. But viera could not cry, so what was this sensation?

"You foolish, foolish hume." I whispered, my voice slowly regaining some of its strength. "You actually flew to Archadia…"

"I would not lose you." He said simply, reaching forward with his other hand and touching the side of my face. My eyes hurt horribly now.

"Why?" I demanded weakly. "Why so much for me?" I was awake how my voice shook, but I could not control it. This silly, young human had risked everything for me without a second thought! I could not bear it.

"I don't need a reason, Fran. Just know that if you do get yourself hurt again, which I pray you won't, I'll do the same thing." Such a simple reply. So human of him.

I closed my eyes and they stopped hurting. He returned to brushing my fingers, tickling them, keeping them warm…

The touch of his hands felt…

"That is a recovery room- you cannot enter!" Ranshal shouted from just outside the door. My ears twitched nervously when I distinguished the muffled, metallic voices and chime of chain mail. The doctor continued to protest, but the door was forced open a short moment later.

Ffamran clutched my hand, and hunched over me as the small room was flooded with guards. They surrounded us, and pulled at the hume. He suddenly twisted around and threw his elbow into the nearest guard's neck, where their helms did not protect them, and instantly covered me with his body again. All the while, gripping my hand tightly, as if no spell or force on Ivalice could shake him away.

But his valiant struggle was short-lived. Half a dozen armed judges grabbed his arms and forced him onto his knees. They saw him still keeping a hold of me, and whipped the edges of their chain mail gloves against his knuckles until he had to release me. When he continued to fight, one punched him hard across the jaw, and he went slack.

"Ffamran!" I gasped. I forced myself into a sitting position, but my arms were shaking from effort. Ranshal was held back as another man entered the room. The judges parted for him, as he held a high air of authority. He removed his helm and tucked it under his arm. The moment his face was revealed, Ffamran resumed his struggle.

"Ghis…!" Ffamran spat, shaking with rage at the mere sight of the man. The judge looked to him and his old eyes widened.

"Ah…look what we have here." He looked over his shoulder. "Just some recovering patients, eh Strahl?"

"They are injured! And they have done nothing!" Ranshal snapped back, sounding fiercer than ever before. Ghis laughed once, and hard, then glared Ffamran down.

"I bed to differ. You are in illegal possession of a highly valuable airship. And let's not even count up how much damage was done to the hanger." Stupid, stupid Ffamran! What a stupid, childish hume, acting so mindlessly to save me! Ghis was right. This was just what I feared. Then his grey eyes settled on me. He saw me staring back, and smiled cruelly. "The fact that the viera over there rebelled against Lord Vanye was enough to be taken to prison for life. Now, she has done so much that she, in essence, belongs to the Empire." Ffamran thrashed his head and stomped his knees on the hard floor in protest.

"You leave her be!" He roared, like some great wyrm of the plains. But he could not breathe fire, and had no wings to escape with.

Ghis jerked his head at two of the guards, and they moved from their positions and surrounded the table where I lay. I tried to stand, but my legs would not respond. My short toes were the only thing that twitched. I pushed against the judges, but I was as weak as a newborn hume. I halted my struggle when I saw that I could not win. I would not be caught thrashing like a netted fish. I held my head high, and closed my eyes as the guards lifted me off the table and carried me outside. They walked with a purpose. They knew where they were taking me, and it frightened me. I kept my eyes closed because I did not want them to see the fear they held.

Ffamran still fought, forcing another guard to join the struggling pair. His howls of anger and desperation echoed far, and I did not stop hearing them until I was taken up into a lift and we left the floor behind.


"Fran!" I shouted her name, over and over again. It gave me strength, but still not enough. "Get off of me you bastards!" Ghis chucked, from his safe distance away, and smirked triumphantly as chains were tightly strung around my wrists. Ranshal watched from over the judge's shoulder, and when I looked to him, his eyes closed and he turned his face downwards in anguish.

My breathing increased tenfold at the unfortunate gesture. He was giving up on me.

They moved me to my feet, and when I had my boots under me, I tried running. They crabbed my collar and wrists and I nearly fell right back over again, choked in their brutal grasp.

"She's hurt!" I roared. "She's hurt! How can you do this? She needs help still! Give her back!" I couldn't see any of their expressions under their helms, except for Ghis. And the soulless man was smiling. They walked me right up to him, and I glared at the old man, lifting my nose so it was level with his.

"She's property of the Empire now." I thrashed, trying to get closed enough to bash my head against his, but was held in place. His lips tightened, as he tried not to look upset. "But luckily for you, you still have family here."

I did not see how that was lucky for me in any shape or way.

Ghis led me personally. They walked me upstairs, then pushed me into a spacious room and shut me inside before I could charge the open doors. I heard the doors lock with a loud click, and it was suddenly silent. I tugged at the chains around my wrists, but my arms were too tight. Struggling hurt. I pulled, despite the pain, and my wrists bled and bruised. I didn't know what else to do. The room was dark, curtains drawn over the windows. I took a few steps, and my hip hit a desk. Something rolled off and broke on the floor. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the glass fragments of a vile. The desk was covered in them, along with research papers and log books.

I gave a loud shout and kicked the desk. It skidded and dented across the floor, tossing research papers and scattering more glass viles. Then, I collapsed onto the carpet, and pound my head into the wall.

I didn't care if it was unflattering for a skypirate. That dream of mine seemed like a childish memory now. The reality was that I was caught, and Fran was going to be killed. It was my fault as well. All of it. I should have just let her take the airship after she worked so hard to steal it from me.

The doors opened and I jumped to my feet. I should have been waiting for this moment to try and escape, but even if I had made a plan, there were too many guards around for it to have been successful. A short man entered, and the doors promptly shut behind him again.

"So dark in here." He mumbled, before flipping on the switches. I flinched at the sudden illumination, but my narrowed eyes fixed on the man standing before me. He had the nerve to smile at me. "Hello, son."

I rose to my feet in a flash, and said nothing. He walked into the room, and tried to circle me, but I kept facing him.

"What have you done to your ears?" He asked, tipping his head to the side curiously. "Mutilated them, I see. But, that would be the least of your worries now." He shook his head. "You had such a future, and then you went and…with a viera none the less."

"Where is she?" I snapped. He waved me off and went back to his thoughts. I ground my wrists together. "Answer me!"

"She's property of the Empire, Ffamran, and will be dealt with as such."

"What the hell does that mean?" I demanded, my voice low as a growl. My father looked away, out the window. He walked towards it, and touched his fingers against the dirty pane.

"Yes, yes…she is helpful, isn't she?"

"What?" I cried. He looked to me, confused, and looked back again.

"I wasn't speaking to you, child. Don't interrupt.,," I looked around the room, and my eyes settled above him. The air seemed just slightly distorted, like ripples on a water's surface.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked nervously. My father…this man…he was more unstable than when I had seen him last. Now, as I looked at him, illuminated in the dusk, I saw just how frail he'd become. His body was shriveled, wrinkled, gray. Yet he walked with an air of power. The room felt suddenly colder.

"She will be used to test the mist my new flagship radiates." He said, to me this time. "The viera…they have a keener sense of things. She will let us know how it…feels."

"Your flagship?" I breathed, remembering the massive airship that had passed over the mountains with the Archadian flags trailing in the frozen clouds. I knew it had been his. And…the mist…the airship radiated mist? And that was what caused Fran to act so- "You can't!" I shouted, overwhelmed by the horrifying realization of what it all meant. "She was hurt enough by it, and that was when it was in the sky! If you put her right next to the engine, I don't know how she would react!"

"Oh, we'll know soon enough, won't we?" I wanted to kick him right out of the window. I turned instead, and stomped at the door.

"Let me out!" I shouted, and faced my father when the guards did not respond. "Let me out! You'll kill her!" He shrugged.

"No one would notice."

The glass shook, and lines of crack spider-webbed across the old window. My father yelped as I ground my forehead into his. A drop of blood welled up and dripped down my nose. I hoped it was his.

"You are so incredibly lucky my hands are bound, old man." I took a half-step forward, and another crack snapped into place from the pressure my father was putting on the glass. "I would notice. And you better pray to your imaginary gods that she is well and alive when I rescue her." There came a cold gust, and I was forcefully pushed backwards and away from him by some unseen force. I landed heavily on my back, and struggled to my feet as I'd been winded. The air in front of him was moving about, and every now and then, I saw flickers of a strange figure. Not human, not viera, I didn't know what, but something was there. My father reached up and touched it, and his hand formed over a solid shape.

"My gods don't like to be called imaginary."

The guards heard the clatter, and raced inside. They pulled me away from him, and I did not resist. I knew my limits right now. I knew that I had to start thinking, instead of mindlessly shouting and running about.

"Leave him here for the night. I have business to attend to." My father said, walking by dismissively.

"Sir, should we-"

"Oh, pour some water into a saucer and kick it under the door for him." He said, and the doors slammed shut, and I was left alone in the dimming room once more, not to be disturbed for a long while.

Which was exactly what I needed.

I sat down, and closed my eyes, feeling the chains against my wrists. I found the lock, in between the two chains, and stretched my fingers to feel for the keyhole. Small, but wide enough. I glanced about the room, but if I tried picking the lock with a quill, there was a possibility that the plume would break and jam it. I saw nothing else of use. My few minutes of determination were fruitless, and my thoughts wandered back to the ugly confrontation with my father. And Fran.

Oh, gods, let her be safe.

I leaned my head back, and my earring jingled as I rested my head against the wall. I cracked a weak smile. My father's reaction my numerous piercings had been predictable after all.

I bolted upright.

That was it.

I rubbed the side of my face against my shoulder, and my ear chaffed back and forth, loosening the studs and loops in my cartilage. With a soft click, a stud dropped out of my skin and landed in my lap. I leaned back, and picked it up between my fingers, and shoved the metal spike into the lock. I'd never done such a thing, but I closed my eyes and focused, and I soon felt like I had. I imagined it was myself walking through the maze that made up the inside of the lock. I just had to push it the right way, like Fran had…oh gods, don't think about that now, focus….focus…

There was a satisfying clipping sounds, and my wrists sprung free.


A/N~ Thanks for your support out there. I had this chapter done a few days ago, but I really wanted to make it good still, so I took the time to do some more read throughs, and I hope it all came out like I hoped :)

I want to finish this right, even if that means taking a bit more time.