Just a notice for newcomers; if you haven't read Final Fantasy XII: A Tale of Hidden Powers The First Installment, you really should before you read this one. Yes, the first installment covers through the end of FFXII, but just playing the game will not do it for reading this sequel. And come check out my profile; you won't be disappointed!
Here we are! Entirely post what Square Enix saw in FFXII. Yes, this is the part where I tell you I've never played Revenant Wings and don't really have any desire to. What I mean is, well, this isn't Revenant Wings. It's the sequel to A Tale of Hidden Powers.
I currently have three chapters after the end of Part Two... The once great Part Three: Tides of Time. Yeah... It's now way shorter than I originally imagined. So much so that Tides of Time is now three floating chapters like chapter eleven, playing the roles of epilogue and prelude between our two stories. And now I have to call Blood of Kings Part Three. It feels so wrong.
Well, keep in mind we are beginning a new book. A sequel. Well, we will be. After three chapters. I'm frustrated about that. I don't want to give you the one sentence "Oh, by the way, these important things happened," at the start of Part Three, and yet three chapters is a long time to spend in between-story limbo. "Show, don't tell." But is it worth showing in three chapters what you can tell in one sentence? If you could just clear them all one late night, it'd be fine, but I'm releasing one chapter every two weeks. That's six weeks for three chapters. Maybe I'll release two next time and get it over with, and I'll go back and thin down those two chapters as much as I can, maybe even combine them.
Pessimistic or no, I am jacked about upcoming Part Four- excuse me, Part Three. And I am thankful to all those who've stuck with me from the beginning. "Readers expect the writer to look like they know what they're doing;" a quote from my writing lesson today. I realize I there have been times I really didn't look like I knew what I was doing- because I didn't, and I apologize for that. In a way, this story has been a learning ground for me before I dive into writing an original novel to be published. I can't wait to do that...
But Balthier stands in my main focus now. Now, unbridled by Square Enix's vision, the fates of our beloved characters wait to be fulfilled.
We have finished book one, and it is time for book two.
After the Tides of Time.
Chapter One
The Royal City of Rabanastre
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar
Two weeks after Bahamut's fall
Vaan sighed, releasing the Strahl's controls. Greyed light drifted from the cloudy sky through the open hanger roof above. Securing this little run-down hanger had been a hard process, but now the Strahl was safe at home. The weeks had flown by; it seemed only yesterday that Balthier had entrusted the airship to Vaan in his final words. Yet at the same time, Bahamut's crash, the war's beginning and end, seemed years and years ago. Penelo had been overjoyed to see all their orphan friends again, to see that everyone had got along alright without her and Vaan, yet their reunion couldn't be entirely happy.
Penelo leaned back into the copilot's seat. It still felt so wrong to sit there, where Fran was supposed to sit. But now the ship was empty save her and Vaan, and they sat as the drivers.
"She's all fixed up, too," Vaan said, nodding to the airship around. "She was pretty dinged up after the battle, but I did my best. I hope…" Vaan's expression dimmed. "Hope it was good enough for him."
"You're good with machines, Vaan," Penelo said. "A lot better than you used to be." A groan came from the Strahl's hull as the metal settled into place. Penelo let her eyes wander over the roof, remembering again the missing owners of the powerful craft."She must miss him," Penelo said.
Vaan swung his face to her. "Huh?"
"The airship," Penelo said, straightening. "Balthier said they're alive, or their skystones are, didn't he? He said he could talk to them."
"Oh. Yeah." Vaan looked at the controls before him, suddenly uneasy. "I forgot about that."
A few more moments of silence. Vaan looked up from the controls, then stood.
"Hey, look." He pointed out the windshield. A door at one end of the hanger stood open. Through it scurried a short boy with sandy brown hair. Behind him came an older girl on crutches, charcoal curls down around her shoulders.
"Oh, it's Kytes and Sable," Penelo said. "What are they doing here?"
"Come on, let's see what they want." Vaan walked down the aisle and out the doorway. Penelo stood and followed him. She stopped in the doorway and looked back. Six seats in three rows stretched up to a panel covered in levers, dials, and buttons. A curved windshield showed view of the empty hanger, where Vaan ran up to Sable and Kytes.
"Uh, can you hear me?" Penelo said, the words coming awkward to an empty room. "I know… we're not Balthier and Fran, but we'll do our best for you, okay? They'd both want that."
No reply. Of course not. Penelo turned quickly and walked out the doorway, down the stairs and out onto the concrete floor. Vaan talked with the other two orphans, smiling. It was good to see him smile. He hadn't smiled much in the past weeks. Penelo jogged to join them.
"Hey, Penelo, did Vaan tell you?" Kytes said, waving one hand. "He's heading over to the Sandsea!"
"The tavern near Migelo's?" Penelo frowned at Vaan.
"To see if there are any marks," Vaan said. "You know, monsters causing trouble, and people 'll pay us to get rid of them. I figure Balthier wouldn't want the Strahl rusting in a hanger. We can take her anywhere. Hope you don't mind lending me a hand, Penelo. We're going hunting!"
"Won't that be dangerous?" Sable said. She shifted her crutches to push a lock of hair from her face. She used to wear the flowing black curls in a ponytail, but not since Vaan and Penelo had gotten back. Penelo made a mental note to ask her friend about it when she had the chance.
"It'll be easy, after what we've been through," Vaan said. "Right, Penelo?"
Honestly, Penelo didn't want to go hunting. She wanted to talk with Sable, walk through the free city streets, or cry for a few more hours about her lost friends. But Vaan was smiling. He was excited again. That was worth anything.
"Right, Vaan," Penelo said. "I'll be there."
…
"It's good to have that behind us," Captain Basch said. "Now we can know peace will be insured."
"Indeed," Larsa replied. "But I trust Dalmasca and Archadia's relations will be easy in the future, after all we've gone through to make it so."
Ashe walked down the hallway, with Larsa and Basch, leaving behind the double doors that lead into the conference room. The treaty was all signed, the conference over. Marquis Ondore and Rozarria's emperor, an old, white-bearded man called Lebavis, were still talking. Probably a good sign, that the two rulers could chat like old friends. The signing of the treaty to officially end the briefly started war and secure Dalmasca's freedom had taken hours. And that was just the final meeting. But it was official, now. And over.
"I'm sorry to leave in such a rush, Lady Ashe." Larsa's voice brought Ashe back to the present. She turned her face to him.
"But you understand," Larsa continued, "I've much to attend to back home. I'd prefer not to strongarm my succession as my brother did." Larsa studied the ground for a moment. "And there's the imperial senate to gather back. You'll have to arrange Dalmasca's royal council, won't you?"
"Hm?" Father always had councilmen with him, didn't he? "I… suppose so," Ashe said. "I don't know if any of Father's old ones are still alive."
"Perhaps we can share advice for choosing the right men," Larsa said. "I'm certain we shall see each other again soon. I look forward to working with you."
"Of course," Ashe said. Larsa nodded his farewell, then turned and started down the hallway.
"I'll be right with you, Lord Larsa," Basch called after him, and Larsa nodded over his shoulder. Ashe watched the prince's retreating back.
"He's so cheerful," Ashe said. "After everything that's happened- his brother died. It's been two weeks, and I never saw him so much as blink."
"He has to keep up appearances," Basch said.
Ashe turned her head to Basch, then let her gaze fall to the floor. "How does he do it?"
"It's the duty of a ruler," Basch replied. "Larsa knows that."
"I suppose," Ashe mumbled.
"I am sorry to leave you like this, Highness," Basch said.
"You don't have to keep apologizing, Captain Basch," Ashe said, lifting her gaze. "I understand. It was Gabranth's last wish. You have to go. It's alright."
Basch nodded, he glanced after Larsa, then back to Ashe. "Highness, if I might," Basch said, frowning. "What you brought off Bahamut, when we went on board to search, do you still have it?"
"That?" Ashe stared back at Basch. He waited, expectant. "Y-Yes." Ashe hesitated, then reached into the pocket of her long silver dress and pulled it out. A stick of metal rested, cold, against her palm. A wrench. The words Ffamran Bunansa glittered in the lamplight. "I… found it by the engine block." Ashe's gaze dropped to the floor. She didn't want to look at it, but couldn't let it go. "It was… his." Her voice fell quiet. "I saw him using it, one night we camped on the Ozmone Plain."
"You shouldn't hold on to that," Basch said, tone stern. Ashe snapped her gaze to his face. "We looked," Basch continued. "Balthier and Fran are gone. They gave their lives for this city's sake. You have to accept that."
Ashe stared into Basch's stone-hard face. She didn't want to think about it. She'd kept her mind blank save political matters for weeks, but the images came, clear as any nightmare. Ashe stumbled over the debris in Bahamut's engine room, trying and failing to keep tears at bay. But all tears dried with shock when she realized… No, I just can't.
"We never found any bodies," Ashe said. Her voice was dim, and confusing dampness blurred the bottom of her vison. She couldn't meet Basch's gaze.
"The fires were intense before we arrived," Basch said. "It's likely there simply wasn't anything left."
"Basch!" Ashe eye's widened in horror. "That… That just can't be. There would've been something, wouldn't there?"
"Ashe." Basch's gaze bored into hers. "No one could survive that. Balthier and Fran knew the dangers. It's been two weeks since it happened. They're gone. I know you don't want to believe it, but you can't deny it."
Ashe stared at Basch, then tore her gaze from his, studying the floor to the right. The concern in his eyes was too much. She just couldn't…
Basch sighed. He glanced down the hallway where Larsa had disappeared. "I should leave. Highness, I… am sorry." Basch dropped to his knees, surprising Ashe. He dipped his head, one hand across his chest.
"It has been an honor to serve you, my lady," Basch said. He stood, then turned to follow Larsa. Ashe watched his retreating back.
Alone. The word rang in Ashe's ears. Vaan and Penelo had rushed back to Lowtown the day Bahamut crashed, to check on their orphan friends. A single letter from Penelo she hadn't even had time to read was all Ashe had seen or heard of them since. And now Basch was gone. And Fran and Balthier were…
Ashe walked a little ways to a tall window in the palace hallway, then knelt, slowly. She rested her arms in the windowsill, looking over the city, trying to pretend for a moment she was ten years old, scheming the next way to lose her newly assigned bodyguard and slip into the city streets, where she could waltz through the crowds in her worst dress, pretending she was an average street urchin without a care in the world. Ashe rested her head in her arms. How long ago that had been.
A fountain bubbled in the terrace below, a tree with leafy palm branches shading it. Grey clouds blanketed the sky, promising a rare desert rain before nightfall. No imperial knights stood in the street corners. Against the clouds and over Rabanastre loomed a testament to the price paid for that freedom. Sky Fortress Bahamut stood, planted in the ground beyond the city, a massive leaning tower. Ashe closed her eyes. Freedom, prices; Ashe didn't want to think about it. She couldn't. She just wanted to sleep, right there on the windowsill…
"Princess Ashe? Is that you?"
Ashe jerked her head out of her arms. A man in purple and white stood over her, the top buttons of his shirt open to display his hairy chest.
"Al-Cid?" Ashe scrambled to stand. Her legs caught in her long dress, and she stumbled. Al-Cid caught her by the shoulders.
"Careful," he said, Rozarrian accent thick in his words. "No need to get so excited."
"I-I'm fine. Thank you," Ashe said. Al-Cid stared back into her eyes. A sudden heat flushed over her, under his touch on her shoulders. Ashe stepped back and out of his grip.
Ashe swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. "Al-Cid, what are you doing here?"
"Ah, well, in my line of work, one must have eyes and ears everywhere, my lady," Al-Cid replied. "And, now, with the treaty signing… Well, let's just say Rozarria's intelligence is watching out for our dear emperor."
"I… see," Ashe said.
"What's wrong, Lady Ashe?" Al-Cid said, tipping his head to one side. "You're looking rather down. Certainly not like a princess who's just saved her nation and won her people freedom."
"Oh, it's… nothing," Ashe said, shaking her head.
"Now, now, my duty as a gentleman cannot permit me to leave a lady in distress," Al-Cid said, sweeping one hand out. "What's the matter?"
"I'm just… just tired," Ashe replied. "These last weeks have been so long. And…" Ashe looked down at the floor in front of Al-Cid's perfectly shined black shoes. She raised her gaze back to his face, shaking her head. "It's nothing."
"If you insist," Al-Cid said with a sigh, frowning slightly. He didn't sound like he believed her. "If there's any way I can be of assistance, just let me know, won't you, my lady?" Al-Cid said pulled his sunglasses from his shirt and flicked them open, then set them over his eyes. "I'll be around."
Al-Cid turned and swaggered off, and Ashe watched until he rounded a corner. Ashe breathed a long sigh, listening the faint, familiar sound of Ondore's voice drifting from council room behind her. She turned her head; Bahamut loomed out the window, as it had those past two weeks.
Is Basch right?
You know he is-
No! Balthier can't be dead. Not now, not when…
You can hardly deny it.
Ashe closed her eyes. Heat rose in her throat, tears pushed behind her eyes.
No, no tears. "I am Princess Ashelia Dalmasca, and my duty is to my people. I have not the privilege of tears." Like Father said. I can't… afford to cry now.
But the tears came, hot, rolling down her cheeks.
Oh… Why…?
…
Birds twittered, their songs muted. Wind caressed the walls outside. The sounds came muffled to Balthier's tired mind. Where was the screeching metal and roaring flames? Ashe's familiar voice, cobwebbed with static? The suffocating heat burning through his insides? Something warm lay over him, soft, nothing like the deadly heat of his powers. A blanket? Fur? How could that be? Balthier forced his eyes to open.
Warm shades of brown and tan in blurry shapes hovered somewhere above him. Balthier squinted, then blinked, trying to clear the image. A roof made of logs came slowly into focus. Balthier let his gaze drift along the roof and walls; a log cabin? A window, curtains drawn, lay halfway up the wall opposite him. Balthier lay in a bed, one rather too short; his feet nearly went over the end.
Balthier turned his head, the soft pelt tickling his cheek. A mug rested on a table next to the bed, steam curling up from it; the scent of something sweet filled the air. Balthier pushed himself into a sitting position to get a better view; his head spun, and stiffness filled every muscle. Past the mug, the room was bare, save for a low bench against the left wall. A sheet covered the doorway, sunlight from beyond setting it glowing. Balthier watched the steam from the clear liquid in the cup rise and taper away, letting his groggy thoughts fall into place.
Bahamut. We were on Bahamut when it crashed. Am I dead…? This can't be-
Memories clicked in Balthier's tired mind. Nethicite. Warp science. Right. Could that have actually worked? Then where's Fran? And where am I?
A chill rippled through Balthier's body, a cold, electric feeling tightening every muscle. His heart thudded hard and irregular. Balthier held his breath until the feeling faded, then let it out slowly.
Not coming out.
Thank goodness for that. But something wasn't right, something sluggish and reluctant in the way the current moved. Balthier let out a weak chuckle. A lifetime of shunning it, then an Occuria seizes control and he teleports out of a crashing airship, all a few hours. It was small wonder something felt wrong. Balthier sat there, breathing, for a few more moments, until he was sure nothing terrible would happen.
The sheet over the doorway ruffled, drawing Balthier's attention. A tiny white Moogle girl pushed through it. She held a basket tucked under one arm, humming happily. Her eyes went wide and round when she saw Balthier. She gasped, dropped the basket- which hit with the painful sound of glass hitting glass- then flew back out the door.
Balthier stared. His eyes fell on the basket, lying where the Moogle girl had dropped it. Rolls of bandages and jars of ointment lay inside. Balthier sighed and leaned back into the fur pillow. Perhaps he was dreaming. Though why terrified Moogles were populating his dreams, he didn't know.
Balthier pulled his hands from under the covers and held them up, turning them over. Everything certainly seemed real. Then Balthier noticed his sleeves. The white fabric was clean of bloodstains, the tears from Venat's biting metal all mended. From under the edge of his left sleeve, Balthier could see bandages wrapping his forearm where Fran had removed a shard of steel atop Bahamut. Balthier frowned.
The sheet rustled again; Balthier looked up. A Viera with long silver hair ducked through the doorway and strode into the room, the little white Moogle cowering behind her leg.
"Fran?" Balthier's eyebrows went up, and he straightened. The sight of someone familiar relieved him, though Fran's presence wherever this was didn't do anything for his confusion.
"Balthier," Fran said, brown eyes cool. "I'm glad to see you awake." Fran glanced back at the Moogle clinging to her leg. "It's alright," she said. "He's no scarier awake than he was asleep."
The Moogle peeked out. Her eyes ballooned, and she pulled back behind Fran.
"Fran, where are we?" Balthier said, ignoring the strange little Moogle.
"A Moogle village," Fran replied.
Balthier sighed. "I could probably have extrapolated that myself. Where, geographically? And more pertinently, how did we get here?"
Fran's face tipped down slightly. She studied the floor. "I am not certain. The myst was so broken…" Fran lifted her gaze to meet Balthier's. "You did something, didn't you? To get us off Bahamut?"
Balthier sighed, letting his gaze drift over the log walls. "Yes, to get off Bahamut. But how did we get here?"
"Moogle hunters pulled us from a nearby river," Fran replied. "They brought us to their village." Fran stepped to the side, motioning for the terrified Moogle girl to step forward. "This is Melody, their healer. We were both badly hurt when they found us; she saved our lives. She's been helping me take care of you."
"Ah-ha." Balthier looked down at the Moogle girl. "I suppose I owe you some thanks."
Melody nodded in quick, short movements. "Oh. It was no trouble." Melody glanced back. "Um… I'll be… right back." She scampered like a squirrel to her basket and knelt over it.
"How long have we been here?" Balthier asked while Melody checked her ointment bottles to make sure none had cracked when she dropped it.
"About two weeks," Fran replied.
Balthier started at that. "Two weeks? I've been unconscious for two weeks? You're telling me it's been two weeks since Bahamut crashed?"
Fran nodded. "What you did to get us away wore heavy on you. Even as your wounds healed, you would not wake up." Fran looked at the floor. "And I truly don't know where we are. The Moogles speak of a city nearby where they trade, but none of them know what it's called. This village is deep in woodlands, lush with plants. I can tell we are far from the desert."
Balthier sighed. "How can they not know what the city's called?"
"They only care to trade; these Moogles keep far from the world of humans."
"So," Balthier said, sighing again, "we don't what's become of Dalmasca or the others or where we are, and I've been in a coma for two weeks. Is that about right?"
Fran nodded.
Melody flittered over, holding the large basket over one tiny arm. She made one quick nod toward the mug on the table. "You should drink that, kupo. The nectar. It keeps up nutrition- Actually, now you're awake, you can eat solid food again. That would be good, to get your strength back. And you need to try walking. I've done what I could, but it's not good not to move for so long. I have to check your bandages. We can take them off now. I'll check. They probably can. Maybe… Uh, just a moment."
Balthier waited for Melody's nervous rhapsody to end. The Moogle girl set her basket down, practically dropping it again, and started rummaging through it. With a sigh, Balthier threw back the covers and moved his legs over the side of the bed. Balthier gritted his teeth; his muscles protested at every inch of movement.
"Oh! Careful, kupo!" Melody said, glancing up, then back to her medical supplies. Balthier ignored her and his aching muscle and turned to Fran.
"So where is this city? Do we know how to get there?"
"The Moogles send parties to trade textiles at the markets there," Fran replied. "But we must ford the river between here and there, and the directions they give are not… very clear. I think it would be best to travel with one of their trading parties."
"And how soon do they leave?" Balthier asked.
"A group just left," Fran said. "Others will not return to the city for some time."
"How much time?"
Fran glanced at Melody.
"Um, it depends on when the party gets back. Two weeks? Maybe a few days shorter?" Melody said.
Balthier sighed. "Wonderful."
…
That night, Balthier sat in the grass behind the cabin. Facing the woods, away from the village, the spot was serene. No clouds smoked the darkening sky, and the forest's greens showed black and deep blue in the faint light shortly after sunset. Most of the Moogles had already retreated to their tents, their fascination with their visitors overridden by their desire for a good night's sleep. Balthier's mind buzzed with too many questions for that.
Bahamut might have been a fortnight ago, but in Balthier's mind it was fresh. He wasn't sure that day would ever fade. Even if his wound were healed, he could still feel hot metal biting into him, and more acutely, Venat's voice in his thoughts. Balthier couldn't believe that little boy he'd seen was somehow the ghostly monster that had played parasite in his mind. Yet he couldn't deny what he'd seen.
"You know nothing of the Occuria! You know nothing of the ancients, and nothing of the scourge!"
Balthier sighed, scanning the sky to reaffirm his surroundings; he didn't want to think about being back in that place. Stars appeared slowly, and the dark silhouette of a bird darted to the leafy branches spread against the fading sky, all drained of color.
The Occuria, the ancients, and the scourge. Venat called the scourge the "ancients' champions," didn't he? That needs explaining… And where do the Occuria fit into all this?
Balthier's gaze drifted to one hand, resting in the grass. His jaw tightened.
And where do I fit it?
Your exalted heritage, father. Destiny and all that. If only you could've told me something before…
That he could almost manage to think of that without waves of guilt surprised Balthier. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket, feeling for the cold touch of that wrench. His fingers swept empty air.
Nothing?
Balthier reached deeper, forehead furrowing. Still nothing. He tried his other pocket, but that was empty, as well. What?
Balthier searched his memory, letting scenes of Bahamut wash over him. After he knelt by the engine block… he'd pulled it out, worked the energy unit, then turned to Fran… Stood and went to her… Did I leave it there?
"Are you alright?"
Balthier raised his head. Fran stood by the side of the cabin. Seeing he'd seen her, she walked towards him, feet swishing through tallish grass.
"Fine," Balthier replied, looking away as she came to stand behind him. He paused; Fran said nothing. "Confused, I supposed," Balthier added in a half-mumble.
"This is a good place to think," Fran said. "The wood is quiet, the air is calm…" She drew a deep breath in and out. "This is a much gentler place than the realms of the humans."
Balthier glanced over his shoulder with a smile; Fran stared out into the woodlands.
"Homesick, are we?"
Fran's gaze wavered. "A little. Perhaps."
The moment faded, and Fran's taciturn defenses came back up, deadening the emotion in her brown eyes.
Maybe that's where I'll go once I have my airship back, Balthier thought. Pry some answers out of Jote; I am sick and tired of no answers.
Balthier lifted his gaze back to Fran, whose cold eyes still watched the forest beyond. He sighed. No, I couldn't drag Fran back there. Jote would probably just try and kill me, anyway. I am not dying like that… Memories of flames and screeching metal tugged at Balthier's subconscious. I did die. No, no, I'm alive. But no one could survive that. Everyone probably thinks we are dead. Mm. That's not good, is it? Ashe…
Fran turned back to face him. "You're sure you're alright?"
Balthier sighed. "Yes." He shifted his legs and stood, inwardly cursing the stiffness in his muscles. "All I did was sleep off two weeks. If I can't recover from that, I'm a weakling indeed."
"You used your… abilities, did you not?" Fran asked, walking to stand next to him. "I thought those forces did not treat you kindly."
Balthier scoffed. "You can say that again." His gaze drifted down to one hand hanging by his side. He turned it, remembering the gruesome burns after his fight with Bergan. Balthier sighed, jerking up his gaze and planting both hands on his hips.
"And I wish you wouldn't call it that," Balthier said, and Fran cocked her head. "I wish I didn't have to. 'Powers,' 'forces-'" he flicked his hands in a hopeless gesture. "It all sounds abstract and ethereal. It is governed by scientific laws; everything is. There is definition; there must be. It's… There's light, heat. Like fire, but not. No, more like electricity…" Balthier shook his head, sighing. "I simply don't know enough, and I can't stand it. I ought to find some competent scientist with scalpels and a dissection table and turn myself over. Then at least I'll be able to rest in peace knowing someone's obtained some level of understanding."
Fran kept her mouth closed, weathering Balthier's rant.
"You'll want to find answers, then?" Fran said when he fell silent. "When we get back?"
Balthier sighed. "We won't find those just lying around. No, I…" Balthier paused. Just falling back into life as sky pirate… Something about that thought turned his stomach sour. After everything he'd learned, and the lack of knowledge that tortured him still, could he really run back to his retreat from reality?
Balthier shook his head; it did little to clear his frustration. "We need to get the Strahl back; YPA will be more than pleased to get their grubby fingers on her now that I'm gone-" Balthier paused. My, I must stop thinking like I'm dead. He turned back to Fran. "And we need to tell all the others we're not dead. Then…" Balthier sighed through his nose. "Then yes, Fran. We're going to scour every ruin and ancient legend on this Ivalice until we find something or someone capable of telling us something without exploding or losing their mind or something else unpleasant like that."
Fran nodded. "If that is what you want." She took a few steps towards the cabin, then glanced back. "I'm turning in. You'll be alright?"
Balthier sighed. "Yes, Fran. I've told you, I'm fine. I've gotten sleep enough."
