Healing

Balthier's left shoulder is marred by a bloody slash, and the arm hangs nervelessly on his side. He looks to the creature lying in the grass as it begins to sink into the ground. a sky pirate's dagger sheathed triumphantly in its chest. He should collect it, he knows, but if he moves now, he'll fall flat on his face in front of Fran.

"How about that then?" he asks of no one in particular.

"Good work Balthier," comes the steady voice of Basch. It reaches his ears blurred and distorted. He feels tired. Maybe that's why he doesn't remember putting on a red shirt that morning. Yes, it is just a little fatigue.

"Balthier!" someone calls insistently. He redirects his attention to the source of the voice. Big mistake. The ground tilts, obligingly coming up to meet his head. Ah, this is better. Now he can have a little sleep. If only it weren't so cold!

No respite. A warm hand slides under his head, lifting it off the ground. He opens his eyes. It's Fran, two-parts sunlight, one-part ice, his Fran. With her moonlight hair streaming behind her like a flag, she is beautiful. He always had a thing for long-haired ladies, but he had never met anyone quite like her before.

"I will heal him," someone offers, and he recognises that voice. The Princess' cool detachment sets off a throbbing pain in his arm. He grimaces.

"No," he mumbles. "No, no, no."

"It's alright. The pain must be very great," Ashe reassures him.

She does not know that he is referring to her offer of healing. For some reason, with Fran so close, the thought of her touching him seems wrong. He is very aware of his partner's presence, kneeling behind him and supporting his head with her gentle, yet dangerously clawed hands.

"No," Fran echoes, staring down the princess. She summons up a healing spell and sends it into Balthier's wound. He feels the warmth spread all the way down his arm. He feels giddy, lightheaded and foolish.

And damn it all if he managed to fall flat on his face in front of Fran!

"Ah. that certainly feels much better!" he exclaims, rising gracefully to his feet. "For your ministrations my lady Fran," he adds, lifting her hand into a gentlemanly kiss. "You have my thanks."

Ashe gives Fran a curious, if a little annoyed, look, but Fran does not have time for her.

"Heeding the battle, you were not," she accuses, crossing her arms in an unmistakably Balthier-like gesture.

"True enough. Sometimes the leading man gets distracted, however, what is it about the leading man that we know is always true?" replies Balthier.

"He...never dies," Fran says faintly.

"Precisely m'dear."

Fran says nothing for awhile. Balthier is almost afraid she has turned into a statue, so still she is. He knows well enough, that she is angry, though no one else would be able to tell.

"Fran. That creature was coming for you. It was not my intention to see you hurt."

Fran reaches out and touches his bloodstained shoulder, but remains silent, as if she is thinking something through.