Penelo pressed her cool hands to her hot cheeks, wondering what in the world had just happened. She’d awakened in a dreamy half-doze to find Balthier leaning over her wearing an expression she’d never seen before. He looked so serious, so solemn...as well as shocked and appalled to find her staring back at him. And then, when he’d bent closer and kissed her…well, she’d never expected that. She could still feel the press of his warm, firm lips on hers, the deep, intimate stroke of his tongue in her mouth. She’d never been kissed like that in her life. And when he’d touched her…oh, something inside her had thrilled over the heat of his hands on her body, despite how fleeting a pleasure it had been.

And to be forced to admit something as embarrassing as not wearing nightclothes! With a wretched little moan, she dived back beneath the covers, pulling them over her head. How was she going to face him in the morning?

--

How was he going to face her in the morning? Balthier lay awake, replaying the encounter in his head for the umpteenth time, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong, where he’d strayed from the path of indifference into a decidedly carnal interest in the girl. For god’s sake, he didn’t want to encourage her! Did he? No, absolutely not!

But he’d never been so affected by a woman before. He stared at his fingers. They had since ceased their trembling – which they ought never have started in the first place. Why was it Penelo who affected him as she did? It made no sense. She wasn’t particularly bold or seductive. She couldn’t even properly flirt with him.

God, what if he’d frightened her? A girl like Penelo couldn’t be expected to understand or anticipate a man’s hungers. What if she’d been so shocked because he’d actually scared her with the force of his ardor?

It was just his luck that the girl didn’t wear nightclothes. Just his luck that he’d been unable to resist that soft, pink mouth, just his luck that she’d awakened at such an inopportune moment.

Just his luck that she’d been such a responsive little thing. Just his luck that she was even more appealing to him now than she had been to him before. He didn’t have anything to do with virgins as a general rule – they grew too attached too quickly, required far too much patience and teaching, and the whole deflowering process was messy and uncomfortable for both parties. No, he preferred his women experienced and knowledgeable.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, if he ever took her to his bed, little innocent Penelo would teach him just as much as he would teach her.

Groaning, he pressed his fingers over his eyes, praying for sleep to come.

--

Penelo was up and cooking a full two hours before she normally would even have been awake – but she’d invited Ashe, Larsa, Basch, and Fran over for breakfast before they had to return to their respective kingdoms. All were partaking of the food quite happily, when Balthier emerged from the hallway. Penelo avoided looking at him, but no one else failed to miss the way she flushed and turned away when Balthier approached.

She shoved a plate at him hastily, muttered some excuse, and fled the kitchen. Balthier watched her go with raised eyebrows. Then he filled his plate, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table.

“So,” Larsa began, with all the tact of a fourteen-year-old, “what happened between you and Penelo, Balthier?”

Balthier choked on his coffee, glaring across the table at the boy.

“That,” he said stiffly, “is none of your business.”

“Anything that involves Penelo is my business,” Larsa retorted. “She’s like family. It’s my job to take care of her.” He leveled a look at Balthier that would have made a lesser man flinch. “If you do anything to make her unhappy, rest assured that you will answer to me.”

“And me,” Ashe seconded, looking forbidding and just as arrogant as she always accused him of being. “Penelo is a too good for the likes of you.”

Irritated, Balthier glowered at them. “I have no designs on your precious little charity case,” he remarked sourly. “She’s just a child, after all.”

“Lies,” Fran said smoothly. “Her scent lingers on you.”

Balthier frowned. Fran had never remarked on his women before or even given any indication that she’d known about them, as he strove for discretion in all matters. However, it was not unlikely that she could smell Penelo on him, as the nose of a Viera was famously sensitive. Just because she had never mentioned it before did not mean she did not notice. And he would be wise to remember that in the future, lest he make an ass of himself again.

And he couldn’t protect himself from their censure if even Fran’s protective instincts had been roused. What was it about Penelo that made everyone so damn sheltering?

“You’d do better just to stay away from her entirely,” Ashe said. “She’s not sophisticated. She can’t play your games. It’s unfair to even put her in that position. She won’t know how to defend herself against you.”

If only he could keep himself away from her! “There’s no need to rally for the virtue of your helpless charge. I’m here to instruct Vaan. Nothing more.” He stared down Ashe and Larsa and resisted stating his lack of desire for her for fear that Fran might call his bluff. Surprisingly enough, Larsa and Ashe looked away guiltily. Immediately suspicious, Balthier turned a little in his chair. Penelo stood behind him, hands clenched in small fists at her sides. She looked furious.

“Charity case?” She inquired. “Helpless?”

He winced as she reached for his half-full mug of coffee and tipped the liquid over his head. Twice she had baptized him with beverages in less than twenty-four hours…and he had let her. Perhaps this time he felt he owed her her rage and the opportunity for a little revenge. How was it that he – normally so good with women – could be so downright miserable where she was concerned?

“And you!” She turned her wrath on Ashe and Larsa, who had the grace to flush, embarrassed. “You’re as bad as him!” She jerked her thumb at Balthier, who wisely held his tongue. Even Fran looked duly chastised, as she’d told a secret that hadn’t been hers to tell.

Balthier closed his eyes, gritting his teeth to avoid saying something he might later regret. He pushed back his chair, feeling the coffee soaking into the crisp, white linen of his shirt. The second ruined one. Coffee stained as badly as wine, after all.

“I’m so angry, I could just…just…” She gave a little frustrated cry, her fingernails digging tiny crescents into her palms. “I don’t require protection,” she bit out. “I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing well enough on my own for the past year, haven’t I?”

Ashe winced as the deliberate barb sunk in. “Penelo, we only want the best for you…” she began, attempting to placate Penelo.

“I’m not a child; stop treating me like one!” She turned her back on them, stomping away.

Silence reigned until a door slammed down the hallway.

“That is the girl you imagine needs your protection?” Balthier asked. “Really? It appears as though the girl you think to be some sort of shy, shrinking violet is more than capable of fighting her own battles. In future, it would be much appreciated if you would kindly mind your own business.” He wiped his sticky fingers on his napkin. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall make use of the washroom. Again.” He stalked away, mentally reminding himself to retrieve double the number of shirts he would require from his cabin aboard the Strahl for his stay on the Galbana. At the rate she was going, Penelo would exhaust his supply of them in just a few days.

--

Penelo shoved her feet into her boots, lacing them up quickly and efficiently.

“Helpless,” she muttered to herself. “Poor little Penelo. Helpless. Hopeless. Weak. Pathetic.” She scoffed, reaching for her gun belt. “I’ll show them how helpless I am.” She checked her ammunition supply, stocked up on a couple of hi-potions and ethers, and headed for the bridge.

She set her jaw stubbornly, pointedly ignoring the party still gathered around the table.

Larsa stood as she approached. “Penelo, I apologize for my behavior,” he said. “We spoke only out of concern for you, not because we doubt your ability to take care of yourself or make your own decisions.” He offered her a hesitant smile. “There are plenty of unscrupulous characters in the world, and you are so good.”

Penelo pinched the bridge of her nose. It was hard to stay angry at Larsa – he was so sincere in his brotherly concern that she couldn’t help but forgive him.

“You’re forgiven.” She waved absently. “I’m still angry. But you’re forgiven.” She tied her hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. “Excuse me. I’m going to go vent my frustration on some fiends.”

“Alone?” Ashe gasped. “You can’t go alone. The Uplands are filled with fiends; it’s too dangerous!”

Penelo shot a speaking glance in Ashe’s direction. “I’ve got a gun. I can take care of myself. I don’t need a keeper.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ashe responded immediately. “I only meant...won’t you wait for Vaan or Balthier?”

“Vaan’s not awake,” Penelo replied, deliberately omitting Balthier from her response. He she had not forgiven. “You’d better go. You’ll be late for your appointments.” She didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed her satchel of supplies, slung it over her shoulder, and disembarked the ship.

“Well.” Ashe sighed, unaccustomed to having her will flouted so boldly. “What shall we do, now? Do we go after her?”

“No,” Basch said. “I fear she would take it poorly. We don’t have the time to waste, besides. We’ll wait to leave until Balthier returns. Once he’s apprised of her current location, he may decide what to do for her.”

--

Penelo walked. The sun beat down upon her back, but a cool breeze whistled across the plains, soothing away the heat of the sun. The larger fiends seemed supremely uninterested in her for the most part, although she did have a rather unpleasant run-in with a Malboro Overking early in on her trek.

She quickly dispatched a number of smaller fiends, collecting some loot as she went. It felt good to release her frustration, and it had been a while since she’d gone fiend-hunting, anyway. Her marksmanship was as good as ever. She wondered if they’d think her so helpless if they could see her now – blasting through the fiends as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

It grew steadily more humid as she trekked further and further away. She made her way north, towards the Sochen Cave Palace. She emerged through the small passage between the cliffs, disappointed to see black storm clouds roiling in the distance – they were moving quickly in her direction. She quickly tucked her recently acquired Coeurl pelts into her satchel, hoping she’d find shelter long enough for them to stay warm and dry, as there was no way she would make it back to the Galbana in time to avoid being thoroughly soaked, and with the electricity crackling through the air, it looked as though attempting to make the trip back might not be the safest of ideas, anyway.

She trudged further along the eastern edge of the area, where she knew of some small, uninhabited caves. She might have to drive off a few minor fiends, but she’d be safe and secure within. A cluster of Coeurls blocked her path – she did not have time to skirt around them. At a safe distance, she reloaded her gun, slowly took aim, and fired. She dispatched two with relative ease, but the third was proving itself incredibly agile. It evaded several of her shots, then got in a good slash while she reloaded. Finally she took it out, wincing as she felt her scraped side protesting. She fumbled for a potion.

As she lifted the tiny bottle to her lips, she heard the low rumble of a growl behind her even over the fizzle of the thunder.

She turned.

The Coeurl pounced.

Penelo screamed.

--

“She’s what?” Balthier stared at Basch as though he’d gone quite insane. “You let her leave the ship alone? In this weather?”

“Actually, the weather seemed rather temperate when she left,” Larsa said. “But what else were we to do? We couldn’t accompany her, and she rejected Ashe’s suggestion that she wait for you or Vaan. She did seem to be in quite a fit of pique, still.”

Balthier stared incredulously at the lot of them. “So, do I have this correctly – you allowed her to leave, possibly risking her life, because you didn’t want to upset her further? Have you all gone mad? Is it possible you do not remember voyaging through these parts just a year ago? How difficult it was, even for a complete party? Fran, even you had to be revived several times on the journey. And you have allowed a young girl out there, alone? You would rather risk her death than her anger?”

Obviously, none of them had thought past escaping Penelo’s ire. He threw up his hands in consternation. “Go. You’ve passed along your message. I’mgoing after Penelo. Someone’s got to ensure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

“I’ll stay.” Ashe stood. “I’ll help you search for her. I should never have let her go in the first place. It was irresponsible to allow her pride to get in the way of her safety. You’re correct in that, Balthier.”

He knew how much it must have galled her to admit that she might’ve been wrong for once while he, a notorious ne’er-do-well, might be correct for a change.

“I will go as well,” Fran said.

“And I,” Larsa declared.

“We should all go,” Basch decided.

Balthier was pleased at their show of dedication – however, he had to decline their offer. “You can’t come. We can’t have a large party in the midst of a thunderstorm; it’s the surest way to get us all killed. I’ll go alone.” He made a quick inventory of his ammunition, loading the cylinder of his gun. “Leave if you must, stay if you like. It matters not. I will retrieve Penelo.”

‑­

--

The rain pelted down heavily, icy and stinging. Thunder crackled ominously in the distance. Balthier moved quickly along the trail, as the copious rainfall was quickly washing away all traces of Penelo’s path. Most of the fiends had taken shelter from the bitter storm, leaving Balthier’s path relatively unhindered. The grassy slopes were slippery with the rain and mud, and he trudged along irritably, wondering if this counted as the third shirt that Penelo had had a hand in ruining.

He stared ahead – her trail had disappeared. The rain had washed away the last of it. So which way had she gone? North, towards the Sochen Cave Palace or east towards the Cerobi Steppe? North, east, north, east – he couldn’t make up his mind which to take, and every moment he tarried was another moment he left her in danger.

A high, thin scream rent the air, even over the sound of rumbling thunder. The panic in that pathetic sound made his heart leap into his throat – it had come from the north! He wasted no time, knowing that by the time he reached her, it might already be too late.

He ran through the passage, bursting out into the large, open area, scanning for any sign on Penelo. The grey clouds had darkened the sky to a near-night hue, washing the area in shadows. There was little movement, save for the thrashing of the trees and bushes in the high winds. Then he saw her – near the eastern wall – standing amidst a cluster of bodies, the remnants of the fiends that had attacked her.

As he got closer, he saw that her arms and chest were coated in scarlet – unmistakable for anything but blood. She wasn’t moving. She was simply standing there, letting the rain wash it away. Her face was turned upwards, eyes closed. The rain had plastered her hair to the back of her neck, turning the pale blonde strands to a richer gold. She clutched a dagger in one fist.

She heard him approach, turning to look at him. For a moment she stared uncomprehendingly, water dripping off her little pointed chin. Alarmed, he ran his hands over her shoulders, searching for tears in her clothes where she might’ve sustained injuries. The blood washed away from her stomach, revealing smooth, pale, unmarked skin.

“Are you okay?” There was still so much blood. “Where are you hurt?”

Thunder snapped overhead – lightning struck a dead tree a hundred yards away, making the ground tremble beneath them. He grabbed her hand, sprinting for the eastern wall. The closest cave was relatively small – roughly twenty feet in diameter. The ceiling was high, though, plenty high enough for him to get a fire going without worrying whether or not the smoke would linger too closely.

As soon as it became clear they were alone in the cave, and unlikely to be ambushed by territorial fiends, he holstered his gun and turned his attention back to Penelo, who lingered at the entrance.

“Where are you hurt?” He repeated, wishing he was as adept at healing spells as he was at elemental magic. But then, healing had always been Penelo’s realm of expertise.

She blinked, her spiky black lashes framing misty blue eyes. Finally she snapped out of her haze. “I’m not hurt,” she said through lips turning blue with cold.

“I heard you scream.” God, he didn’t want to remember the way his blood had run cold with that terrified sound.

“Oh.” She took a shuddering breath. “A Coeurl snuck up on me. I didn’t have time to shoot.” She patted the dagger she’d slipped into the sheath at her waist. “Got it right across the throat, but it bled all over me. It’ll take me forever to get the stains out.”

He knew she was in shock, that she sounded so nonchalant only because she hadn’t yet come to grips with her own fear, but it still infuriated him to hear her talking about something as menial as laundry when she’d come so close to death.

He gritted his teeth, but she seemed not to notice his aggravation.

“I’m going to start a fire,” she announced, heading further into the cave. “There’s a box back here; if there’s nothing flammable inside it, we can break it up and use it for firewood.” She dropped her satchel on the hand ground beside the box, lifted the heavy lid, and rummaged through it.

“What’ve you got there?” Balthier asked.

“Blankets. A pillow. A couple of logs and some tinder. Something that looks like jerky. It’s probably someone’s emergency rations. We’ll have to replace it later.” She pulled out a couple of logs, tossing them towards the middle of the chamber. “There’s enough wood to last for maybe a day.” The blankets were old, ratty and thin, but mercifully clean-looking. “I’ve got a couple of Coeurl pelts in my satchel. Those will make decent pallets, at least.”

She grabbed up a couple of fistfuls of the dried leaves, scattering them liberally around the small pile of logs. With a quick fire spell, the tinder caught fire, setting the logs ablaze. Light chased the shadows from the cave. She knelt before the fire, the flames lending a rosy glow to the complexion that had been eerily pale earlier.

She stared at the fire, but didn’t really see it. He didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but he didn’t much care for the blank expression on her face. A few moments later, she rose and reached for her satchel. From it she pulled two Coeurl pelts – they’d been protected from the storm by the leather of the bag and so had remained dry. She tossed one to him from across the cave and laid hers out a few feet from the fire.

“You can have the pillow,” she offered generously, retrieving a blanket from the box. There was no anger in her tone, but nor was there anything to suggest she felt anything for him, no warmth or familiarity. She looked at him with empty eyes. “If you don’t mind, would you turn your back for a minute?”

He did as she asked, hearing the tell-tale sounds of wet fabric dropping to the floor. He imagined her skin, golden in the flickering firelight, goose bumps chasing across smooth flesh from the cool wind still blowing in. The small, thin blanket would be wrapped around her, strategically secured to bare her delicate shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts–

“Okay. I’m done.”

Damn. He’d allowed his libido to run away with him again. He had far too vivid an imagination and too little self-control for comfort. At least where she was concerned. He’d never before even been tempted to throw away his principles, and here was this girl, this child, making him want things he never had before, forcing him to worry about her, so fierce and full of pride that it astonished him.

He didn’t like worrying about people. He didn’t want personal ties. Even his ties to Fran were business related – she could take care of herself, she didn’t need him, they didn’t need each other. But Penelo did. Oh, she might currently be filled with offended pride, and she might be a fair sight more capable than he’d originally thought her, but he had the frightening suspicion that, had he not happened along, she would still be standing outside, in the middle of the storm. Penelo neededsomeone, and he most certainly did not like caring.

Scowling, he flicked open the buttons on his vest, flinging the garment aside. Then he jerked his shirt over his head, turning to face Penelo. She was already abed, facing away from him. Her clothes were laid out neatly before the fire, leaving plenty of space available for his. Her damp hair was caught in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and the blanket was pulled up over her shoulders. It was short, even for her. She had to curl up a little to fit beneath it. He wondered how he was expected to cover himself, if the blanket she’d left him matched hers in length.

He laid his clothes out near the fire to dry, wrapping the blanket around his hips as he spread the Coeurl pelt on the hard ground. As considerate as it was for her to offer the pillow, he was a little irritated: it was a man’s right to be chivalrous and she’d stolen that from him. Unreasonably irritated, he tossed the pillow onto the pelt and dropped down upon it. Damn it all, he was going to enjoy that pillow even if it killed him!

And he’d been right; the blanket was about two feet too short to cover him. Worse, when he tucked up his knees, other bits stuck out, and that was significantly more uncomfortable than his cold toes. He bit back a sigh.

The storm raged without, sending the occasional small spray of freezing rain into the cave. Penelo, who was too close to the opening of the cave, began to shiver. He hadn’t meant to watch her, but he felt it almost his duty to watch over her. It hurt something in him to watch her shaking so violently with the cold – everything in him that had ever laid claim to the title of ‘gentleman’ rebelled at the idea of leaving her there. Still, he did not imagine she would welcome his interference.

But then her teeth began to chatter. Her pride be damned, he would not allow her to have her fit of pique any longer! He padded silently across the cold ground until he reached her, then he knelt at her side.

“Penelo?” He touched her shoulder. She jerked away.

“L-leave me a-l-lone,” she stammered.

He let out a rough sigh. “You’re freezing. I’m freezing. We’ve no other alternative.”

“Yes, we d-do!” She turned towards him, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger – or was it embarrassment over his state of undress? “We’re n-not going to f-freeze to d-death!”

“No, likely not,” he agreed, “but I’ve no intention of listening to your teeth chattering all night. So, up you go.”

He slipped one arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. Gasping, she clutched at the blanket as it slipped from beneath her. He could feel her cool, bare skin against his arms. The blanket billowed around her, shielding in her from his view. She kept a firm grip on the edges of it, holding it tightly to her as she glared up at him mutinously. He knew she’d be struggling if not for the precarious position she was in. Ducking down, he shifted her briefly to snatch up the remaining pelt, and strode across the floor to his own pallet. He spread the extra pelt down atop his own, then carefully set Penelo on it. She tucked her blanket about her, ensuring that she was properly covered, even as he sat beside her, stretching out on the makeshift bed.

“Lie down,” he ordered gently, pressing her back against the pillow. “Try to sleep.”

“I don’t think it’s even past mid-day yet,” Penelo groused, shaking off his hand. “How am I supposed to sleep?”

“Regardless of the hour, you must be exhausted. I saw the trail of devastation you left in your wake,” he said. “You took out fiends strong enough to defeat an entire party, and you did it alone. I imagine that takes a lot out of someone.”

It had. Her shoulders ached, her chest hurt, and she still trembled with a mixture of fear and anticipation – though she suspected that had more to do with Balthier and his nearness than the fiends in the area.

“Think on it,” he continued, “no Vaan to feed, no laundry to do, no navigating to perform, no expectations.” Again his hand smoothed over her shoulder, sinking into her hair, slipping it free of its binding. He did it almost unconsciously, as though he wasn’t even aware that he was wrecking havoc on her senses.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said slowly.

“Wouldn’t what?” He inquired, his fingers stilling their soft stroking through her hair.

“Touch me like that.” Her fingers were curled in small fists beneath her chin, desperately resisting the urge to stretch and purr like a kitten under his soothing touch. She did not want him to see how badly she was affected by him. Not when she’d resolved to get over her foolish infatuation. Not when he’d thoroughly pissed her off. Not when he was so close and so warm and they were both so naked.

Balthier frowned, withdrawing just a little. Was she truly frightened of him? Had he truly destroyed any semblance of friendship and camaraderie that had ever been between them?

“As you say, then,” he responded. Shifting a little, he flung the edge of his blanket over her, sharing both it and the heat of his body with her. He dropped his head onto the pillow beside hers, resolved to stay very still to give her time to realize that he had no plans to attack her – that he would protect her. Perhaps then she would stop being afraid of him.

Penelo had been so cold just a few minutes before, but now she was not – heat rolled off of Balthier in waves, surrounding her in a comforting cocoon of warmth. She didn’t miss the added weight of his blanket – which would have been too small for him alone, but he had decided to share with her. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. Even angry as she was at him, she could not fail to appreciate the thoughtfulness of it. Surely he was as freezing now as she had been a few minutes before.

Before she could stop herself, before she had the time to think through her choices, she flipped around and pressed herself against his bare chest. Wriggling, she shifted half of the blankets back over onto him, edging one of them down with her small feet so that they were layered evenly over the both of them, and they were fully covered.

Surprised, Balthier’s arm slipped around her, drawing her closer. She squeaked in shock as his bare legs brushed hers, rough against her smooth, soft limbs. Her eyes squeezed closed, a violent flush spreading across her cheeks.

And that was when Balthier realized that if Penelo was afraid of someone, it wasn’t him – despite her obvious embarrassment, she certainly did not fear him. He had not overwhelmed and confused her with his kiss. More likely was the probability that what Penelo feared was actually herself – rather, her reaction to him.

She kept her eyes shut tightly. He stroked his fingers through her hair even as he rebuked himself for his thoughts. She had no choice but to accept his aid – to use such a circumstance to take advantage of her feelings for him as well would be unconscionable. What sort of man would take advantage of a woman in such a position?

But even as he thought it, a darkly tempting answer rose in his mind. What sort of man, indeed?

His sort.