Part Two

Nalbina Fortress, five years later

It wasn’t the first time Balthier had found himself in a dungeon. Nor, he suspected, was it likely to be the last. However, it was the first time that he had no idea how he would get himself out. What he needed was a partner – and as he and Fran had amicably parted ways over a year ago (though she did, from time to time, join him on a particularly interesting job), he doubted she even knew he’d been captured. So he was out a partner, bereft of weapons, stripped of armor, and deprived of all manner of possible distractions. There was not so much as a knot of rust to be found in the whole damned dungeon.

By his count, he’d been stuck in the dungeon for nearly five days. A new record; as he’d usually managed to escape in a matter of hours. He was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a change of clothes. Unless he was suddenly struck with a blinding flash of brilliance, he was quite afraid that he might actually have to pay his debt to society before his release.

“Aren’t you getting too old for this sort of thing?”

He jerked around – there was no one but some poor soul sitting in the corner, wearing a tattered old cloak that made his dirty, all but ruined garments look positively pristine.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose – if he was hearing things, it was almost certainly a bad sign.

“Balthier.” This time the whisper was slightly more insistent.

He turned again. The figure in the corner shifted and a hank of platinum blonde hair slipped from beneath the hood, bound in a long braid. The woman in question eased the hood of the cloak back just a little, baring a sliver of her face to the moonlight. Blue-grey eyes looked up at him, soft pink lips were tilted in a cheeky grin.

It was worse than simply hearing voices – he’d gone straight into full-blown fantasies.

“Give me a hand, would you?” She thrust her hand out at him, which he obediently took, helping her to her feet. Her hood fell back completely, baring her bright blonde head. Wispy tendrils of hair had escaped her braid, curling delicately around her pale throat. A dark blue corset top hugged her full breasts, while a pair of loosely-cut pants rode low on her hips.

Maybe she wasn’t a fantasy after all. If she were a fantasy, she would be wearing quite a bit less.

“Penelo?” He couldn’t be sure – it had been so long since he’d seen her, and she’d barely been out of girlhood.

“The one and only.” She slipped a thin dagger out of a sheath concealed within her corset, tossing it to him. He caught it deftly, worlds more comfortable armed than not. Though guns were his weapon of choice, he was more than proficient with a blade.

“What are you doing here?” He tucked the dagger into his belt, watching as she shook a couple of things out of a pocket hidden in the folds of her loose pants.

She glanced up at him incredulously. “I’m breaking you out of jail. Did you think I was here because I enjoyed the atmosphere?” She slipped a hand behind her, retrieving a gun that had been strapped to the small of her back.

He held his hand out for it expectantly.

“The gun is mine,” she said, “I’ve got another dagger for you. Don’t ask where I’ve hidden it.” She produced it with a flourish, presenting it to him. He took it grudgingly.

“I work better with guns,” he said.

“So do I,” she replied, “and, as I’m not the one who requires rescuing, I think I’ll be holding onto it.”

“Fair enough.” Not that he had to be happy about it. “I still don’t understand…why you?”

She tossed him a couple of accessories to put on, likely magic-resistant. “Who else would come for you? Larsa told me a few days ago that you’d been tossed here. Obviously, he and Ashe can’t be seen to be aiding and abetting known pirates. Basch’s hands are tied for the same reason. Vaan doesn’t like you very much, and Fran couldn’t be located.” She clipped on a couple of accessories herself. “That left me.”

“You certainly took you sweet time in arriving,” he remarked snidely.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she countered promptly. “I had obligations of my own to attend to. Besides, who knows? It might’ve been a character-building experience for you.” She pulled her hood back down over her face, likely a precautionary measure in the event she might be recognized by a guard. Her soft leather boots made almost no sound on the dirt floor as she turned her back on him, heading over to a heavy wooden door.

“So, what’s your grand plan, then?” He asked skeptically.

“Cover your ears,” she instructed.

“What?”

“Cover your ears!” She drew back the hammer, pulled the trigger, and shot the large, iron lock right off of the door. The blast reverberated around the large chamber, attracting the attention of every occupant and likely several guards waiting outside the main gate.

“Oh, very subtle,” he chided.

“Subtlety is not my forte,” she remarked, shoving open the heavy door. They darted through it, several yards ahead of all the other fleeing prisoners who were more than eager to make their escape. Rather than continue down the long hallway towards freedom, Penelo ducked into a chamber filled with confiscated weapons and armor.

“Suit up,” she said. “We’ll use the rest of the prisoners as a distraction, let the guards round them up, and then sneak away in a bit. With luck, in all the commotion, they’ll either never notice we’re missing or think we’ve made a clean get away. No one will expect us to be hanging about, so they won’t be looking for us here.”

She busied herself in sorting through the piles and piles of varying armors, but had little luck finding anything to fit her slight frame. Balthier joined her in the search, secretly hoping his investigation would yield him his preferred weapon.

A heavy clanking sound came from the hallway, and Penelo froze, grimacing.

“Well,” she whispered, “it looks like we might have to go for plan number two instead, as it seems we’re about to be discovered.”

“What’s plan two?” He whispered back furiously.

“Stand there and look guilty,” she said, ducking behind a large urn in the corner. “It shouldn’t be too difficult; you’re guilty as hell.”

Balthier resisted the urge to snap back – not fifteen minutes had they been reunited and he already felt like throttling the girl. Er, woman. Penelo.

In preparation, Balthier gripped his daggers, assuming a fighting stance. The clanking sound grew louder, and moments later a guard burst through the entryway.

“Drop your weapons!” He shouted, hefting his spear when he saw Balthier standing in the middle of the room. “Hands in the air, and don’t move.”

Penelo crept from behind the urn, moving slowly and silently. She lifted a large, heavy metal cuirass above her head.

“No one escapes Nalbina Fortress,” the guard continued. “Not on my watch.”

“Famous last words,” Balthier said as Penelo brought the cuirass smashing down upon the guard’s helmet, felling the man easily. He hit the floor with a deafening crash. Abandoning her weapon, Penelo dropped to her knees and began tugging off the unconscious guard’s helmet.

“Help me with his armor, would you?” She rolled the man onto his side, working the buckles of his cuirass.

“What are we doing?” Balthier asked as he removed the man’s footwear.

Penelo rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing here to fit me, so you’re going to put on his armor, and I’m going to pretend to be your prisoner. That way, we can go about as we please – provided this one here doesn’t wake up anytime soon.”

“That is the most ridiculous suggestion I’ve ever heard. They’ll never fall for it.” But he strapped on the armor anyway.

“You got any better ideas?” Penelo reached for a set of manacles hanging on the wall. “Put these on me.”­

She’d gotten more than a little bossy since their last meeting. Or rather, she was much less timid, and much more confident. The only problem was, Balthier was just a little afraid that he actually liked the changes he’d found in her.

She jangled the chains. “Hurry it up. We’ve got to get moving - and the guards don’t escort the prisoners about the halls without binding them. We’ll be suspicious if I’m not wearing them.”

Still he hesitated. “I don’t have a key. You’ll be walking around unarmed and bound.”

She rolled her eyes. “I assure you, I’ve gotten much better at picking locks. And just for the record, these manacles are actually rather easy to slip.” She offered them to him once again. “Come on, Balthier. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He took the manacles, and she held out her wrists while he fastened them on. Then he slipped on the helmet and tucked her gun into the holster at his waist. He set a hand on her shoulders and together they slipped from the room.

“Make it look good,” she whispered. “Be a little rough if you need to. I’m not all that fragile.”

They rounded a corner, coming across a group of three patrolmen who were carrying on a conversation in the hallway. Immediately all conversation stopped as the guards looked towards them expectantly.

“Keep moving!” Balthier barked, shoving Penelo forward. She stumbled a few feet, then assumed a dejected demeanor as she shuffled along, eyes downcast. The patrolmen parted, allowing Balthier and Penelo to pass without incident, then resumed talking as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

They passed a few more clusters of guards with similar results, growing steadily more confident in their certain escape as they neared the entrance to the prison. Freedom was so close that Balthier could practically taste it. He would have a clean set of clothes at last!

“Hey! You!” A guard jogged up from behind them. Balthier grabbed Penelo by back of her cloak jerking her around as he affected an irritated expression.

“Make it quick, I’m in a hurry,” he said. “This one’s getting released.”

“You ain’t seen a couple of escapees round here, have you? We’re missing two down in the dungeon. One’s awaitin’ trial, and the other…well, we’re not quite sure about the other yet, but there’s two still missing.” The man scrutinized Balthier carefully. “What’re you doing round these parts, anyway? Releases go topside, you oughta know that.”

“I’m a new recruit,” Balthier replied. “Haven’t seen anyone this way, sorry.” He turned, escorting Penelo away.

“Hold it just a minute.” Suspiciously, the guard circled Penelo and Balthier. “You got a supervisin’ officer? Ain’t never seen you here before. Where’re her release papers?”

Penelo lunged, relieving the guard of his pistol and took aim. Shocked to find his own weapon pointed at the center of his forehead, the guard’s mouth dropped open.‑­

“I don’t think we’ll be needing those release papers, do you?” She pulled back the hammer. It snapped into place with a satisfying click, and the guard’s throat worked furiously. Sweat beaded on his brow.

“N-no, ma’am,” he said. “No p-papers necessary. Go right on ahead.”

“As I thought.” Her arms were beginning to ache with the weight of the gun and the heavy iron manacles. “You’re going to have to cast the magic,” she said to Balthier. “I can’t do it myself with my hands in these. We obviously can’t take a hostage, so put him to sleep or he’ll fetch more guards, and that’s the very last thing we need right now.”

It was a simple spell, but Balthier fumbled through it. He hadn’t required the use of magic in some time and he’d never been as proficient in magic as he’d been in weaponry. The guard slumped against the wall, hitting the floor in a clatter of metal, mercifully unconscious.

Penelo arched an eyebrow. “I swear, I’m shocked you haven’t gotten yourself caught before now,” she chided. “How did you get so bad at this?”

Irked, Balthier urged her forward, further along the hallway. “I think the question rather should be, how did you get so good? You’re a remarkably good criminal for an aspiring chef.”

“Not aspiring any longer,” she said. “I’ve achieved my dream already. I own a restaurant in Rabanastre. The whole business isn’t quite what I thought it would be.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Some things came up, so I stuck with the pirating a little longer than I’d originally planned. I got pretty good at it. But then, you have to improve or you’ll get caught or maybe even get yourself killed. There’s no option but to get good.” She peeked around a corner, relieved to find it clear of guards. “The exit should be close. Let’s just hope we don’t run into any more guards.”

Luck was on Balthier’s side (for once), and they made it to the large gate with no further guards to block their path. Penelo took a moment to slip her wrists from the manacles, then went to work on the old iron lock on the gate. She had not his professional tools, and yet it took her just a couple of seconds to trip the catch with nothing more than a hairpin, which she then shoved behind her ear.

“Quick,” she said, “I think the gate is trapped. Who knows what it’ll do? We’ve got to hurry and get out of here!” She wrenched the gate open, flinging herself through it and out onto the darkened street. Balthier felt his legs grow heavy, sticking to the ground like glue. He turned towards Penelo, who shook her head. Her lips moved soundlessly – she’d been silenced and couldn’t help him with the spell. An alarm blared loudly, signaling that a trapped door had been opened.

He wracked his brain for the counter-charm, thankful he was still wearing the armor they’d stolen from the guard. At least it would confuse the guards for a few moments, which might give him the time he needed to complete the charm.

“You go,” he said. “They don’t know what you look like; you can make your get away.”

Eyes wide and fearful, she shook her head. She would not abandon him.

“Go,” he urged. “Don’t stay here out of some misplaced loyalty to me. I would’ve left you.”‑­

Her eyes told him she did not believe him and he marveled at her faith in him – what had he done to be on the receiving end of such blind trust?

She dug frantically through her pockets, searching for something – anything – that might help. Finally, just as a clatter of heavy armor arose from the main gate, Penelo found it. A tiny, silvery bottle of Remedy. She tossed it to him, and he pulled the stopper, tipping it back just as a group of soldiers thundered into the lane.

“There! Stop them!”

Balthier’s feet came free. He ran towards Penelo – a well-nigh impossible task in armor – grabbing her hand and dragging her along the lane. Reaching for the buckles securing his armor, he yanked off the heavy cuirass, tossing it aside. The gauntlets were harder, but all the metal was slowing him up and the guards, accustomed to the weight of the armor, were gaining on them.

In a last, desperate attempt to escape, he tossed his helmet into the street, kicking up a thick cloud of dust that would conceal them for a few moments. He jerked Penelo into an alleyway, stripping her of her cloak and yanked her into his arms, slamming his mouth over hers. He could taste her surprise at the unexpected assault, but a moment later her arms stole around his neck and her slender body melted against his. His hands drifted down to cup her rear, bringing her fully against him.

“Where’d they go?”

The confused question posed by a guard convinced him his ruse had worked; none of the guards were interested in a couple involved in an intimate embrace – they’d successfully escaped capture.

“Keep looking!” Another voiced ordered. “They’ll head for the Aerodrome next! Check the outbound flights!”

He wasn’t sure if he waited to end the kiss because he wanted to be sure all of the guards had left or if she just felt so good in his arms that he couldn’t bear to make himself let go. He drew away slowly, watching her face change from the soft, sweet expression of passion to the wary, guarded expression of a woman who knew she’d been used as a means to an end. He’d kissed her because the situation had called for it, and he’d learned a few things in those few moments that she probably hadn’t wanted him to.

“Amazing,” he murmured, “that we’ve been parted for five years, and you still react to me with such ardor.” He tucked a few stray wisps of hair behind her ear, holding her against him firmly with one arm around her waist. “Are you still in love with me, Penelo?”

Her eyes narrowed, lit with anger. She shook her head slowly, deliberately.

“You haven’t stopped wanting me. I can’t imagine you’ve stopped loving me, as well. For you, I think the two go hand in hand. Or do they?”

He murmured the counter charm for silence, then cupped her chin in his hand, angling it upwards. “I was your first lover, Penelo. Was I also your last?”­

“No,” she gasped. “There’ve been dozens. Scores. Hundreds.” She flinched as his lips touched her cheek softly.

“I think you’re lying,” he murmured. “You still taste of innocence.” He nuzzled her throat, hearing the catch in her breath. “I think I would know if you’d had other lovers, Penelo. Somehow, I think I would know.”

“Don’t be so cocky,” she snapped, shoving away from him. “Just because I don’t want to see you swinging at the end of a hangman’s noose doesn’t mean I have any lingering love for you. I’m not that same foolish young girl anymore, Balthier. I’ve changed, I’ve grown up. I’m too old for hero worship – not that you were ever much of a hero anyway.” She turned away, collecting her cloak.

“I liked you better silenced,” he remarked. “You lie to salvage your pride and imagine that your harsh words will make me forget the way you melted in my arms mere moments ago. I am not so easily distracted, Penelo, nor am I as simple and easily led as Vaan. If you go on believing all men alike, I fear you will be in for a rather rude awakening.” He removed her cloak from her hands, slipping it over her shoulders and knotting the hood for her.

Patting her shoulder, he smiled. “Let’s be off, shall we? We should travel by chocobo. As our pursuers are headed towards the Aerodrome, it might be best to avoid that area entirely.” He turned, heading towards the street.

“I liked you better in the dungeon,” she groused. “I should’ve just left you there.”

“Bitterness does not become you, sweetheart.” The endearments came naturally around her – there was just something about Penelo that made her want to use them, want to pamper and protect her. It had always been that way, and likely always would. He would always regard her with some sort of affection, and that made her dangerous to the both of them.

They rented a couple of chocobos from the moogle manning the booth, then set off towards Rabanastre. Balthier wasn’t in too great a hurry to arrive, knowing that when they did, Penelo would go her way and he would go his, and who knew when next they would meet?

Penelo broke the silence first. “You’d been there for five days, huh?”

“Yes.” He didn’t see any need to go into further detail.

“You smell like it.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You weren’t complaining earlier, when you were kissing me,” he observed irritably.

“You kissed me,” she corrected, “and that’s because I was too nervous to worry about smelling you, and your breath wasn’t bad. How’d you manage that, by the way? I’d think after five days, you’d be downright rank.”

“Your faith in my personal hygiene is remarkable,” he sniffed indignantly. “If you must know, I found some wild mint to chew, growing near a window. A poor substitute for a real toothbrush, I fear, but I work with what I am given.”

“Oh.” She lapsed into silence once again.

“Tell me about your restaurant. What is it like?” He hated sticking to such impersonal questions – there were a dozen other things he wanted to know, things he couldn’t ask. Had she missed him? Had she found him an acceptable lover? Would she welcome him into her bed again? Not that he should entertain such thoughts.

“It’s busy.” She shrugged. “I don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would, so I hired a manager and a couple of cooks to run it for me. I love to cook, but running the restaurant was killing my enjoyment of it. I’d much rather just cook for…for friends. You know, without it being an obligation.”

He was certain she had been about to say something else, but he had no idea what.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You don’t have to escort me back to Rabanastre. I’m perfectly capable of finding my way myself. I know these parts pretty well.”

“I’m not escorting you back, exactly,” he said. “The Strahl is docked in Arcades. The quickest way back is via Aerodrome, and, as Nalbina’s Aerodrome is currently not an option, the closest Aerodrome is in Rabanastre.” He shifted – the chocobo he was riding was prancing restlessly. “So, you see…it would be more accurate to say that we are traveling in the same direction.”

“Your chocobo looks ready to bolt. Maybe we’d better walk the rest of the way.” She dismounted, releasing her chocobo. Balthier joined her, and their chocobos ran off back towards Nalbina Fortress, kicking up a trail of dust and sand in their wake.

“Well,” he said. “We’d better start walking. The fiends can get nasty at night in these parts, and we’re not well enough armed for my tastes.”

“It’ll be all right. It’s not far to the Outpost – we can rest there for the night,” Penelo replied.

A strong wind blew sand into the air in whirling columns. Balthier shielded his eyes and Penelo drew the hood of her cloak over her face. A thunderous roar filled the air, and a large airship shot into view, the air currents swirling sand everywhere. The ship touched down a hundred yards away, and a ramp extended slowly towards the ground. A small troupe of soldiers emerged, headed towards them.

Balthier swore succinctly. “How did they find us so quickly? I was certain we’d lost them!”

The guard at the front of the troupe unfurled a scroll of parchment. “By order of his majesty Emperor Larsa and her majesty Queen Ashelia, I do hereby place you under arrest,” he read off. The four remaining guards started forward.

“All right, all right,” Balthier sighed. “No need to get rough, I’ll come along quietly.”

“Not you.” The guard hardly spared Balthier a glance. “Her.”

“Me?” Penelo cried.

“What?” Balthier shouted.

The man lifted off his helmet, sighing. “I’m just doing my job, Miss Penelo. Please come with me.”

Penelo’s hands curled into fists, closing her eyes. “Larsa,” she muttered, “when I see you, you’d better have a damn good explanation for this…”

“You can’t be considering going with them,” Balthier said incredulously. “He’s having you arrested, and you’re just going to go along quietly?”

“What other choice to I have?” She stripped off her accessories and thrust her gun back at Balthier. “Take these. They should help you get back to the Outpost, at least.” She turned, stomping angrily towards the cluster of guards.

“You’re not taking her.” Balthier drew the gun and grabbed Penelo by the arm. Immediately, the guards drew their own weapons.

“Balthier, cut it out. Larsa’s not going to hurt me, you know that.” She gently shook her arm out of his grip. “Tell you what, you can hold onto this for me. Just until I get back to Rabanastre.” She tucked something into his palm, then headed back towards the airship.

“Well, shall we go, then?” She allowed them to escort her safely aboard the ship, and a few moments later, the lift-off shook the ground as the ship hurtled into the air towards Arcades.

And Balthier was left in the middle of Dalmasca’s Estersand, clutching a familiar white handkerchief in his hand.