I think Fanfiction is on the fritz again. It's shown no views on my stories or profile since September 13th. But my dad told me he looked at my profile in that time, so there must be something wrong. It's done this before, so I'm not too worried; I know you're all still out there!

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Five

In Lowtown, Rabanastre's slums
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar

Water collected on the worn, stone ceiling into a tiny, clouded droplet, which hung suspended for an instant, then fell to hit with a plink to dissolve on the worn stone beneath. The water collected on the upper rim of an archway in the walls of Lowtown; no, perhaps archway was the wrong term. Just a simple rectangle cut in the stone, forming an alleyway of sorts.

"It's in here." Vaan danced along the edge, then disappeared into the alley/doorway. His head popped back out. "It used to be an old storage place, but it got cordoned off a while ago, and we all just moved in." He gave the princess a nervous look. "Uh, don't report us, huh, Ashe?"

"Oh, of course not," Ashe replied.

"Then come on!" Vaan's head vanished.

"Oh, Vaan-!" Penelo started, but her brother was already gone. She sighed, frowning.

"It's a little late for pleasantries," Balthier said, dismissing her with a wave of the hand as he strode forward. "Let's get inside and hope the captain doesn't dally."

Balthier led the way after Vaan into the alleyway; dank and smelly offended his nostrils. The others followed, Ashe, then Penelo, Larsa, and Fran, whose ears nearly touched the ceiling. Vaan ducked under the bar crisscrossing the end of the alley.

"It's through here!" he called back, beckoning. Light from beyond outlined his frame against the shadowy alley.

Balthier motioned the princess forward and nodded to the doorway.

"After you, your highness."

Ashe stepped forward and slipped beneath the bars, coming up on the other side shaking off droplets of water. She gave a shudder, then looked around at surroundings evidently larger than the alleyway leading to it. Balthier followed.

From the other side of the barrier, he could see the place much better. A wide, open space like a hanger, littered with various old crates and such. The roof was alternated with grates showing sliced sections of night sky and magicite lamps that flickered, plunging the place into momentary darkness at regular intervals. Half a dozen or so young Dalmascans crowded at the center.

"Well, you were right about nothing fancy, Vaan," Balthier said, perching his hands on his hips as the others climbed in behind.

"It's home," Vaan replied with confidence. "Looks like everyone waited up for us, too. Hey!" Vaan jumped forward, cupping his mouth with one hand and waving with the other. "We're back!" The knot of orphans stirred in confusion. Vaan nodded back to the others. "Come on."

"Hm?" Ashe turned her head at Vaan's words as the kid started off, with the look of one rudely sucked back into reality.

"You heard him, princess." Balthier turned to follow Vaan as Larsa came last under the barred doorway. Ashe jogged a few steps to catch up to him. She glanced down and stepped sideways around a decayed box. The scents of sitting water and mold grated the cool air Balthier pulled into his lungs.

Vaan strode at the front. He probably couldn't hear. "Well, this makes a change from the palace," Balthier said to Ashe. "I preferred sleeping outside." When the princess didn't reply, Balthier glanced at her; she watched the floor with a distant look.

"The resistance used to hide in places like this," Ashe said, lifting her head. She half-smiled, but… sadly. "You're right. I do prefer sleeping outside."

Larsa's voice cut off Balthier's reply.

"I can't believe you live like this," Larsa started, then he quickly added when Penelo stiffened, "Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. I can't believe you have to live like this. Why doesn't someone do something?"

Balthier looked over his shoulder at the emperor, a little annoyed at his interruption. "Have you been to Old Archades recently, Lord Larsa?" He waved a hand for emphasis. "Tour your own kingdom before you point fingers elsewhere."

"Vaan, you're back!" A sandy-haired boy from the group of orphans stood, taking in the arrivals with wide eyes. "Why'd you bring people back here? Who are they?"

"Kytes, don't be rude." That came from a black-haired girl a little older than Penelo sitting on the floor. She entertained two very young children, rough wooden crutches leaning against one shoulder. Having reproved Kytes, she turned questioning eyes up to Vaan.

"Oh, hey, Sable. There was some trouble at the palace." Vaan straightened stiffly, then changed his mind and switched to nonchalant. "The princess and her friends just needed somewhere safe to spend the night. So, yeah, we got visitors!"

"The princess?" Sable blinked, then turned wide, large eyes to scan the group. "Oh! I… Ma'am!" She hung her head, as if trying to bow sitting.

"Oh, no, don't… don't worry," Ashe said, lifting her hands. "You don't have to… It's alright."

Sable shifted her gaze from Ashe, to Penelo, to Vaan, then back to Ashe.

"Then… I'll… I'll get things ready, uh, m'lady, if you're going to stay the night." Sable took her crutches and levered herself up to stand.

"I'll help," Penelo said. She gave her friend some help to stand, and they started off towards a stack of old shipping crates on their sides against the far wall, lined with blankets. Balthier couldn't help but notice Vaan tracking them out of the corner of his eye.

"Ah, if it isn't little Vaan Ratsbane! And returned with the princess? My, my, quite impressive."

Vaan turned with a start back to the group; an old, skin-and-bones man with wild white hair sat cross-legged, surrounded by scrappy little orphans, stroking a rabbit-like creature in his lap. Balthier frowned; what happened to half a dozen war orphans?

"What-? Old Dalan!" Vaan's eyebrows rose. "What are you doing here?"

"I just popped in for a visit, and they told me you'd gone off to the palace," the old man replied. "I expected your return, but not with such high-standing guests." Dalan turned his head to Ashe, then inclined it respectfully. "My lady. It is an honor. You have your father's look about you, if I might be permitted to say so."

"Oh." Ashe straightened, but didn't really succeed at looking more dignified. "Thank you."

"Vaan? Someone trustworthy?" Balthier asked.

"This is Old Dalan," Vaan said, turning back. "He lives down the block; knows everything that's going on. He's the one who got me into the palace the night of the fete."

Balthier narrowed his eyes. "And information broker, then?" He knew plenty of that type from the streets of Archades.

"No, simply well-informed," Dalan replied, a mischievous smile parting his mustache and beard. "Have no fear; if it's for our beloved princess, I shan't breathe a word to anyone."

Balthier said after eyed him for several moments, then sighed. There wasn't much he could do about it now. He just hoped the captain would come back soon and they could get into fresh air.

Once Vaan explained the situation repeatedly to all his fellow orphans and convinced them all everything was alright, he heaved a sigh of relief and suggested everyone go get settled in for the night. Balthier agreed that it seemed like Basch was taking his time, and the group started towards where Penelo and Sable had gone, only to be stopped by Ashe's gasp of delight.

"Basch!"

Balthier followed her gaze; Basch looked ridiculous crawling under barred door in full Judge armor.

He gave a sigh. "Finally." Finally, I can know how this wretched night is going to end and I can get on with my plans.

"Captain. What's the news?"

Balthier approached Captain Basch, Fran and Ashe shadowing his steps. Vaan said something to Sable, and he, Penelo, and Larsa quickly followed. The captain stood, trying to dislodge his judicial cape from the bars. His helmet masked any frustration, if the captain would've displayed any.

"Councilman Moorv said-" Basch gave the cape a final tug, freeing it. "-Things are not good. The assassin we captured was freed during the raid and has escaped. Moorv said he would like Princess Ashe to return to his manor and place herself under immediate protection."

Ashe looked at the ground, brow furrowing in a frown. "I knew he'd say that!"

"That would have the least likelihood of getting you killed," Balthier said. "Assuming your defective guards can get their act together."

Basch pulled off his helmet, as if to make his point clearer. "Your Highness," he said, "you bear a duty to Dalmasca. Don't forget that."

Ashe studied the ground, then flung her head up, short hair flipping. "Someone obviously bears Dalmasca ill will. I don't want to go sit in my throne room and talk about it! I want to do something about it!"

"Like what?" Vaan said. "These people are trying to kill you!"

"I have to find out who it is and stop them," Ashe said. "And… I won't find those answers around Rabanastre. I have to get out of the city and… and look. Find someone who knows, or something. Just… something."

"Judge Basch and I have to return to Archades in the morning one way or another," Larsa said. "It could be efficient if we traveled together."

"And there's no better place than Archades to skim the gutter for information on nefarious goings-on," Balthier said. "If you have the right connections." He narrowed his eyes at the princess. "And if you're entirely set on that."

"I have to do something," Ashe said, meeting his gaze with unwavering fire.

Balthier sighed. "Don't say no one tried to stop you."

"It'd be best if you didn't make your presence known," Larsa said. "That could cause a stir, among the common people as well as your mysterious enemies. Perhaps you'd have the best success with a small group of close protectors. People you can rely on."

Ashe nodded, quick and firm, deep in serious thought. "That sounds right. But I hate to…"

"Well… We could help you," Vaan said hesitantly. "I mean, I guess everyone here would be alright without us. For a bit, you know." Vaan glanced over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the orphans, young and old, scattered about the Runoff. "Yeah." He nodded slowly, turning back to Ashe. "For Dalmasca. We'll help you out, princess! Right, Penelo?"

Penelo blinked. She glanced quickly at the dingy surroundings, then back, biting her lip. "Of course." She forced a smile.

"Thank you," Ashe, easing out a sigh of relief.

A few moments of silence. Then all eyes turned to Balthier.

He knew exactly what they wanted. But he also knew what he wanted. So he said, "What?"

A bit more silence. Balthier sighed.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have my own plans, you know." But of course this was big. He was already planning to help out a bit when he knew it was small…

"You did say," Fran began, tipping her head politely, "a little extra funds would be helpful before we set off."

Balthier locked his jaw. Any sensible human being with a backbone would've had the capacity to say 'sorry, but no.' But Ashe did need help, the poor white princess…

And six sets of eyes still watched him. Balthier heaved a sigh.

"Fine. But just so we're clear," he added quickly, "I'm retired from my hero status. I expect to be fully compensated for my services as a sky pirate."

Ashe's worried lips curved upward in a careful, tentative smile. "That shouldn't be too hard. Thank you."

While Balthier inwardly debated whether to hold her gaze or avert his eyes, Ashe spun to Basch.

"Um, Captain Basch, or, um… could you… inform Councilman Moorv of my plans? No, don't tell him where I'm going, just tell him I'm going to fix things. And that I'll be well protected."

Basch let out a faint sigh, but nodded. "I can. But perhaps it should wait until morning?"

…

At sunrise, Basch headed for Moorv's estate, leaving the rest in company with Vaan's orphans. When he finally returned, Vaan and Penelo bid lengthy farewell to all at the Runoff, and all seven of the destined travelers headed off. Basch took the front, leading the way from the dank, dim, Runoff into the dank, dim streets of Lowtown. Ashe hung in the rear as they walked through the alleyway.

"Wait! Balthier?"

Balthier slowed his pace at the princess's voice. He looked over his shoulder; she'd stopped, so he did too.

"What is it, princess?" he asked, frowning at the timid look on her face.

"I, um…" Ashe walked a few nervous steps to get next to him, her gaze not meeting his. Balthier managed to suppress outward expression of how perplexed he was.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. No." Ashe shook her head. "I just… um… Is this…?" She shot a hand into her pocket. "This is yours, isn't it?"

Resting in the princess's outstretched palm was a six-inch bar of steel, jaw-like grips on each end, the words Ffamran Bunansa set artistically along its length. Balthier's face went slack.

"It is, isn't it?" Ashe repeated, a tinge of doubt creeping it. "I found it… on board Bahamut, when we went back to look for you. All those months ago." Ashe's gaze darted away. "If it isn't…"

"No. No, it… is." Balthier reached out and tentatively scooped the tool from her hand; the metal was still cold, despite how long it must've sat in Ashe's pocket. Balthier looked at it, those hated words flashing back in his face. He closed his hand around it; cold, biting, burning, but some deep part of him was glad of it. How strange was that?

"Thank you," Balthier said, the words coming slower and quieter than he expected. "Thank you, Ashe."

Ashe nodded. She stood, hands clasped in front of her, a spot of nervous, shining white against the dark, dirty stone of Lowtown.

"O-Of course," she said. "Thank you. For helping, you know?" she quickly added.

Balthier let his eyes drift toward the wrench still clasped in his hand, unwilling to turn his face to it. "Why would you hold on to something like that, anyway, princess? I would've thought you had better things to worry about."

"I… I thought you were dead…" Ashe trailed off. She cleared her throat, a feeble noise. "Um, let's… go join the others. They're probably waiting."

Before Balthier could say a word, Ashe turned and walked stiffly out of the alleyway, one clenched hand pressed to her chest like she was worried she'd have a heart failure. Balthier raised an eyebrow; she was acting strange. Maybe…?

Balthier's gaze drifted down to the wrench again. Cursed thing. He'd thought it was gone forever. But…

Balthier shook his head, jammed the wrench into his pocket, and started after Ashe.

They quickly caught up to the others, and the group of seven started off. Through the dank, shadowy streets of Lowtown, out into the fresh, arid air of Rabanastre, through the bazaar and off to the aerodrome; the building buzzed with life, air thronged with voices in a dozen accents and the smell of a thousand people. Balthier remembered when he used to hang around Archades' just to hear the noises, see the people, and try and pry one semi-interesting story out of the airships. What a long time ago that was.

The whole group tried to stay together, but that was hard. Balthier had made sure all of them had heard the attendant say which hanger the Strahl was in. He and Fran ended up a little ahead; Balthier made sure he could all the others in sight. Nobody seemed to care about the ragtag party of two pirates, two orphans, an Archadian Judge, and a boy and a young woman who, at the moment, probably didn't look much like a princess and an emperor.

"Feel like sharing why you were so adamant we help out last night?" Balthier asked his partner as they walked in stride. "I know it's been a while, but you're not usually so thrilled about acts of benevolence."

Fran's gaze maintained that impenetrable coldness. "It is necessary." She said after several moments. "I didn't think it a matter you would leave unattended."

"Well," Balthier said with a faint sigh, "you're right, there wasn't really much choice in the end. Scouring Ivalice for answers would be harder with the world in political turmoil."

"True." Fran glanced his way, eyes glinting that unreadable look. She cocked her head. "But… you're sure the 'answers' you seek are out there?"

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "Fran, don't get philosophical on me," he said with a scoff. "If you found that sort of stuff an interesting diversion for those months you spent in that cell, that's fine, but leave me out."

Fran looked away. Her cold brown gaze flickered a moment, then hardened again.

"We're here." She nodded towards the hanger door.

"Mm. Everybody here?" Balthier glanced over his shoulder. He waited until the others had caught up, then opened the door. "Come on; time's wasting."

Within, the hanger roof rested firmly closed overhead. Light fell in slanted spears through oblong windows in the dome, resting on the massive, shining form a mighty airship painted white, gold, and navy blue, wings folded like a resting bird, six glossair rings resting silently. Balthier stopped and let himself take a moment to take in the sight.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Vaan said, coming up beside him.

"You got that right," Balthier replied. "She flew fine last time; we'll see if any of your mishaps show their face when we're flying this time.

"I took good care of her!" Vaan said. "I didn't… I never got her that banged up."

"That banged up?" Balthier raised an eyebrow at Vaan. Vaan chuckled nervously.

"I kept up with repairs. I made time, even when I was busy with the others!"

"It was an interesting bunch you have back there," Balthier said, recalling the fascinating night spent at the Runoff. He turned back to Vaan. "And that Sable-"

Vaan stiffened. "Uh, she's nice."

Balthier raised his eyebrows. "'She's nice?' Vaan, life is short. You should say something."

"Well… Yeah, but…" Vaan clasped his hands behind his head. "She thinks I'm annoying. Still won't forgive me for, you know, when I used to steal and stuff. Even though I hunt marks and bring back food for everyone now!" Vaan sighed. "Come on! What about you and-?"

"Watch your tongue there, young Ratsbane," Balthier cut him off, then started with long strides towards the Strahl's door. "I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."

"Hey! That's not fair!" Vaan called after him, that old whine coming to his voice

Balthier waved a hand back at him. "All's fair in love and war." He raised his voice. "Come on, all aboard! We leave now!"

Balthier's fingers flew over the keypad, and the Strahl's door slid open with a mechanical whir. He stepped inside, the others at his heels. Balthier took in the shiny walling, the metallic tang in his nostrils, the clang bang of steel steps under his shoes. He hadn't taken the time to properly enjoy this last time.

And into the cockpit; two rows of four seats, one spread of controls, one steering yoke, one wide windshield showing an empty hanger and a dome just waiting to open on bright, clear skies. Balthier marched the familiar six strides to his pilot seat and sat down, as Fran claimed the copilot's seat to his right. Ashe sat just behind him, then Vaan. Across the way, Penelo sat behind Fran, Larsa behind her, and Basch in the last seat.

"Fran, set course for Archades." Balthier flicked up dials across the controls. A rumble of energy brought the great machine to life beneath his feet, myst and fuel bubbling through the walls. He could feel the vibrations as glossair rings began to turn. Something was strange, though.

"Strahl? You're being uncharacteristically quiet."

"Hm? Oh," the familiar, tiny voice replied. "I thought you didn't like me blathering in your ear."

"Well, it has been six months," Balthier replied. "It's about due for a good blather."

"Really?" Strahl sounded ecstatic. "Okay! Where are we going? Why are Ashe and Basch and Larsa and everyone with you? And you stayed overnight; what happened? Everyone in the aerodrome was talking about some assassination. What does that mean? Where-?"

"Alright, alright, Strahl." Balthier cut her off, twisting the next dial. "That about covers the next six months' blathering tolerance."

"Oh." Strahl's voice took on a pout. "You're a meanie."

"We can land straight in the palace aerodrome," Larsa raised his voice over the thrum of awakening engines, giving Balthier an excuse not to answer Strahl. "They'll let us in if I give them the code. And I'm sure people will be worried about me; I'd like to be as prompt as possible."

"I can drop you off in the name of world peace," Balthier said with a sigh, "but I'll be setting my anchors in the public aerodrome; it'll be easier to get in and out of in a hurry, and without alerting the world that Lord Larsa is helping our princess on the run."

Larsa nodded; Balthier felt Ashe sag back in the car behind him. He considered saying something to her, but didn't.

Then the dome split open, peeling back like the splitting surface of a fruit, sunlight spilling through like leaking juice. Balthier rested his hands on the control yoke, two leather-sheathed grips worn smooth under his palms. Soaring through open skies, clouds breaking, the whole massive metal machine, each wing, ring, and surge of energy an extension of himself – Balthier let out a sigh. At least some things never change.

"You're not planning on going anywhere on me, are you, old girl?" Thought translated to communication nearly unconsciously.

"Hm?" Strahl replied. "No. Of course not! I can't go anywhere, unless you're driving."

"Vaan's been driving you the last six months."

"Oh, I guess so. You're a better pilot, though."

"Why, thank you, Strahl." Balthier repositioned himself in his seat. "Alright, we're taking off," he called out. "No standing, no fidgeting, no wagging tongues or you're likely to bite them off." He pulled back on the controls, and the Strahl lifted up. He couldn't help the thrill that gripped his limbs.

"Let's fly!"