Title: Again
Chapter: Ten
Rating: PG-13
Final Fantasy XII, Balthier/Penelo

                True to his word, Larsa managed to find a bit of spare time between audiences to see Ellie and Penelo safely aboard a ship bound for Rabanastre. Ellie, who had never before been outside of Dalmasca’s borders, had found Archades to be interesting and exciting, and so threw a minor temper tantrum when Penelo announced that they’d be leaving.

            “I don’t want to go,” she declared dramatically, sniffling. “I like it here.” She thrust her lower lip out in a pout.

            “I know,” Penelo soothed, dabbing the tears from Ellie’s cheeks. “But we can come back. It’s not so very far away.”

            Slightly mollified, Ellie tugged Larsa’s hand. “Uncle Larsa, will you come visit me?”

            Charmed, Larsa promptly forgot that it was with Balthier’s eyes that the child gazed up at him, entreating him so sweetly. He laid his hand atop her head, ruffling her silky blonde curls. “Of course I will, darling.” He scooped the child into his arms, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. Then, carefully, he handed her over to her mother.

            “Have a good trip,” He said, kissing Penelo’s cheek fondly. “Be safe.”

            “We will,” Penelo assured him. “Thank you, Larsa. We’ll get going now. I’m sure you’ve got plenty more important things to deal with.”

            “No, not really,” he said. “A few meetings, some trade agreements to resolve. Nothing that can’t wait. You’re the most important thing.” He smoothed back her bangs. “You and Ellie will always come first.”

            Humbled, Penelo offered him a smile. She wouldn’t marry him because she didn’t love him – but she sincerely regretted that. Wistfully, she sighed. If only she had gotten to choose who to love! Surely, she would have picked Larsa, who had always been such a loyal, devoted friend to her.

            He sensed her conflicted emotions. “Go on,” He said, nodding towards the ship. “I meant what I said; I’ll come visit. Soon, I promise,” he assured Ellie. “And I’ll bring you a present when I come.”

“No ponies!” Penelo whispered fiercely to Larsa, who threw back his head and laughed.     

            Delighted, Ellie linked her arms around Penelo’s neck. “I’m ready to go home now, Mama,” she said solemnly. “Bye, Uncle Larsa.”

            “Be good for your mother,” Larsa instructed, handing Penelo and Ellie over to the care of the stewardess. He waited at the gate until the doors closed and the ship took off, wondering how soon he could possibly manage to get away from his obligations to fulfill his promise to Ellie.

            ---

            Ellie loved flying; Penelo knew it by the way she ran gleefully about the observation deck. She’d inherited her love of the skies from both of her parents, and Penelo worried that someday, not too far in the future, that Ellie would want her own airship. Flying was in her blood – Penelo could only hope that pirating wasn’t.

            Ellie joined some children who were putting together a puzzle over in one corner of the observation deck, well out of the way of any adult passersby, and Penelo allowed her a little time to socialize with some children her own age before removing her to the interior stateroom for a light lunch and then retiring to their cabin for a nap.

            Penelo awoke when the ship touched down – her days of pirating had trained her to become alert at the vaguest sign of turbulence. Down the hall, the speaker blared to life, heralding their arrival in Rabanastre. She gathered their things, making sure that all of Ellie’s dolls had made it safely back from Archades, then reached over and ruffled Ellie’s tousled hair.

            “Let’s go, sweetheart. We need to stop by the market before dinner.”

            Ellie opened her eyes, frowning sleepily. “I hate the market. It’s boring.”

            “I’ll let you pick out dinner,” Penelo wheedled.

            Ellie was a four-year-old master negotiator. Eyeing Penelo speculatively, she said, “And dessert?”

            “If you’re good and do exactly as I say without complaint.” Penelo tapped the tip of Ellie’s nose.

            “Deal.” Ellie hopped from the bed, smoothing out the creases in her dress. “I can carry my dolls, Mama,” she said, holding out her hands to take the bag.

            Together they left the Aerodrome, heading down the busy Rabanastran thoroughfare towards The Sandsea and the little plaza in which both Penelo’s restaurant and their small apartment were located. They stopped at home first, dropping off their things and getting a change of clothes, and then stopped by the restaurant to see how Penelo’s day-shift manager was handling the rush of people they were sure to get.

            Penelo supposed she could have left Ellie in the care of one of the waitresses instead of dragging the recalcitrant child with her to the market, but…without knowing when or where or even if Balthier would ever make his grand appearance, she didn’t want to leave Ellie alone.

            “Mama, can we have an apple pie?” Ellie tugged Penelo’s fingers, jerking her out of her anxious reverie.

            “Let’s decide on dinner first,” she replied. “Go pick out what you want, and then we’ll discuss dessert.”

            Ellie darted ahead, examining the rows and rows of market stalls with all sorts of foods laid out upon them.

            “Not so far ahead!” Penelo called, keeping a watchful eye on her exuberant child. “And remember to pick out some vegetables, too!” She had no worries that the vendors would attempt to cheat the girl – most of the vendors knew her by sight and would bill Penelo’s account for the goods Ellie wanted. Likewise, they would not wish to alienate the owner of a profitable establishment – one which purchased a large quantity of their goods – by giving her daughter a raw deal. Ellie would get the best there was to be had.

            “She’s quite an…excitable child,” came a voice from somewhere behind her. “Lord Larsa seems quite taken with her.”

            Penelo glanced over her shoulder. “Sir Basch! What are you doing here?”

            “I have been dispatched to see that you arrived safely and to ensure your continuing safety.” He gave a wry smile. “I suspect that also among my duties I should count keeping Balthier at bay – that is, away from Elionora and yourself. Lord Larsa bids me tell you that he shall be arriving within the week. He will be staying at the palace in the care of Queen Ashe, but it is his hope that you and Elionora will visit with him often.”

            She frowned – though she appreciated Larsa’s assistance, she did not appreciate that he assumed he could manage her life however he saw fit. Still, she welcomed Basch’s help. She couldn’t be with Ellie at absolutely every moment – and if Balthier were to come across them together, well, there could be little doubt that Ellie was Penelo’s daughter. He would have questions, and that way lay disaster.

            “Well,” she said, “Ellie will be pleased.”

            Basch heard the subtle tones of irritation in her voice. “But you won’t?”

            She slanted him a look. “We’re going to have words about his interference,” she sighed. “It’s going to drive me crazy! He’s got an entire empire to run, and it’s not enough – no, he wants to run everything and everyone around him. Well, I won’t have it,” she huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

            Basch suppressed a smile at the minor display of temper. “I really do believe he intends to marry you,” he said. “I’m sure it wasn’t simply an offer made in the spirit of friendship – I suspect he’s been half in love with you for most of his young life.”

            “Well, he can intend whatever he wants!” She blew out an angry breath, working herself into a fine snit. “His right to throw his weight around ends when it oversteps my rights. I don’t care if he is an Emperor, nobody just barges into my life and takes over!”

            Basch laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her out of her temper tantrum. “No one would be so foolish as to think to do such a thing,” he soothed. “I was not sent to keep an eye on you or report your activities – I am sent simply to prevent Balthier from making any trouble. It is entirely possible that you shall never see me, as I need not remain particularly close to you to be an effective guardian.”

            Somewhat placated, Penelo shrugged. “If you speak with Larsa before he arrives, please let him know that I’m not happy with him,” she said. “He should know better by now than to try those ridiculous maneuvers on me.”

            “Mama!” Ellie reappeared, a couple of bags clutched in her small hands. “I decided on cluckatrice dumplings!” She hefted aloft a bag containing some vegetables – from the looks of it, a couple of potatoes, carrots, and onions. “I even got some vegetables, like you said.”

            “Well done,” Penelo said, her aggravated expression softening into a pleased smile. “Since you’ve done so nicely, you may pick out whatever you’d like for dessert.”

            “I want an apple pie,” Ellie said, rifling through her bags, lifting out a sack of apples. “See? I already got them, Mama.”

            Basch roared with laughter at Penelo’s disconcerted look. “You were never quite so impertinent as that,” he assured Penelo, who responded with a sharp glare.

            For the first time, Ellie’s gaze swung towards Basch. Her eyes widened, assessing him intently. “You’re really tall,” she said. “Are you my mama’s friend?”

            “And Larsa’s,” he answered. “We have met before, but I think you were likely too young to remember. My given name is Basch,” he said in a low voice. “But the name I answer to is now Gabranth. Can you remember that?”

            She nodded enthusiastically. “Everyone calls me Ellie,” she said. “But my name is really Elionora.” She said it with an air of disgust, as though she believed the name to be much too long and troublesome for such a little girl. “Will you have dinner with us, Mister?” Shifting the mass of bags in her small arms, she fished out a wrapped package of cluckatrice meat. “Did I get enough of everything, Mama?”

            Penelo took the bags, inspecting their contents. “Yes, I think so,” she said. “Basch, can you stay?”

           “If you do not mind having me, I would like nothing better. Allow me,” he said, retrieving the bags from Penelo. “By all means, lead the way.”

            “My mama makes the best dumplings,” Ellie said, slipping her hand into Penelo’s. “Everyone says so.”

            “I imagine they’re right,” he replied. “I remember your mother to be a wonderful cook – and she can only have improved over time.”

            Ellie more or less led the way back to their apartment, chatting merrily most of the way. She exclaimed with joy over Basch’s announcement that Larsa would be making good on his promise to visit, wildly speculating over what sort of a gift he’d bring her. Though she had no real concept of royalty versus commoners (as she counted a queen among her most frequent playmates), she somehow had sensed that Larsa was someone important and was therefore likely to bring some sort of ridiculously expensive toy that Penelo had heretofore denied her.

            Penelo, on the other hand, genuinely hoped that Larsa would bring a small trinket and nothing more – while Ellie had not really been born to privilege, they were certainly making a comfortable living. Ellie would not grow up among the urchins of Lowtown. They had a good sized apartment in the heart of Rabanastre, near the Palace. Ellie had all her needs met and still had plenty of toys…however, she would not have everything handed to her on a silver platter, or she would grow up just like Balthier – arrogant and egotistical. She would not have Ellie like Vaan - glamorizing sky piracy simply because it could afford her a comfortable lifestyle. It would be better that she attend a good school and learn an honest trade.

            “Mama, can I help cook?” Ellie asked as Penelo pushed open the door, holding it open so that Basch could pass through. He set the bags on the kitchen counter.

            “Why don’t you give our guest a tour, and then you can come wash up and help me,” Penelo said, beginning to unpack their purchases.

            “Okay!” Ellie scampered off, Basch in tow, while Penelo organized her ingredients, wondering how much of her kitchen was likely to be destroyed by Ellie’s creative ‘cooking’ efforts this time. Despite her enthusiasm for it, cooking was not one of the talents Ellie had inherited from Penelo. Penelo only hoped she would improve with time – and that she wouldn’t seriously sicken anyone in the meantime.

            And she hoped Balthier wouldn’t make town anytime soon – as Basch was within their home, he could hardly be watching for any sign of Balthier or the Strahl. It made Penelo just the tiniest bit nervous.

            ---

            Balthier arrived in Rabanastre early in the evening. Though it had been easy enough to discover the location of Penelo’s restaurant, finding her residence was proving somewhat more difficult. He had quite nearly given up and resigned himself to asking Ashe to point him in the right direction when, completely by chance, he came upon a cluster of apartments in the center of town. They were not so very far from the restaurant, and the only residences he’d glimpsed within the district so far.

            With the less than fond way she’d spoken of Lowtown to him in years past he did not think that, as the owner of a thriving business, she would choose to live in such a poor location, and the apartments seemed infinitely more likely due to their close proximity to her business.

            He strolled along the narrow walkway, glancing left and right at the rows of small apartments, sneaking glances within the ones with open windows, hoping one of them would reveal itself to belong to Penelo. All around, families were sitting down to dinner, and he wondered – was Penelo sitting down to dinner, too? If he knocked, would she invite him in? If she invited him in, would she invite him to stay the night?

            It was an appealing idea.

            The last apartment in the row was lit from within, and the sound of familiar laughter poured through the open window. And then, a familiar voice – a masculine voice. And the high trill of a child’s laughter. Confused, he stole a glance through the window.

            It was a cozy scene, with Penelo, Basch – and their daughter seated around the small table. His hands curled into fists – obviously he’d been wrong. Penelo must have wasted little time pining after him, and had likely moved straight on to the stalwart soldier.

            He wondered why the thought of Penelo with a child affected him so strongly. He had no right to be put out. He had made no claims upon her. She had every right to do exactly as she pleased. But with Basch? Unfathomable. He was much too staid and serious for her.

            And how, he wondered, did little Lord Larsa feel about his intended bride bearing the child of his most trusted Knight? Or did Larsa even know that Penelo had a child?

            He turned, heading back the way he’d come without announcing his presence. Obviously they would not welcome an interruption. Still, he wondered – why had they not married? He knew Basch to be a permanent resident of Archadia, so it was obvious that they lived apart. Perhaps Basch was only visiting his daughter, and they weren’t really quite the happy family they’d seemed.

           Inwardly conflicted, Balthier retreated to The Sandsea for a couple of pints of ale while he worked out his plans. He could always leave, and with Penelo none the wiser that he’d ever been in Rabanastre at all. But that would be tantamount to admitting defeat – and at Basch’s hands, too, nonetheless. And Balthier would be damned before he’d ever admit he’d been bested by the knight. He could bide his time and wait for Basch to leave, then demand an explanation – after all, she’d handed over the handkerchief as though it were some sort of invitation.

            But then, why hadn’t she told him she had a child? Perhaps she’d assumed that he would no longer be interested in her if he had known she’d borne a child. Or maybe she just decided it was none of his business? After all, their relationship had been nonexistent for the past several years – maybe she’d simply assumed that he would not care to know. And, he reflected, he probably wouldn’t. Children were difficult, always complicating relationships. Would Penelo really be so receptive to welcoming him into her bed when she had a child to look after all day?

            He downed his second pint rather quickly, then hit upon the deciding factor. Obviously, Basch and Penelo were as yet unmarried. She lived in Rabanastre and he lived in Archades. He’d given her no ring, no symbol of devotion, nothing. It seemed that the only thing they shared was a child.

            And, if that was the case, if Basch had made no claim on her – well, then that made her fair game.

            So she had a daughter. So that daughter happened to be Basch’s. It was no business of Balthier’s, and really, it wouldn’t even be an issue. It wasn’t like he’d be around so much during the child’s waking hours, or even around much at all. Wanting Penelo in his bed had not changed his mind about relationships – he still had no interest in having a woman in his life permanently. If she could accept that he did not desire any permanent attachment, there was no reason why he should have a problem with a child.

            As long as she did not expect him to interact with her child – good god, whatever would he say? He knew of no conversation fit for a child’s impressionable ears! And really, what mother would expect a casual lover to do so? – then there would be no issues at all. He could slip into Penelo’s bedroom after the child was asleep and take his leave in the early hours of the morning.

            His mind made up, he handed some gil over to the barkeep, then headed slowly back to Penelo’s apartment. Night had fallen heavy across Rabanastre, shrouding the streets in shadows. He strode silently down the lane, lurking in the darkest parts of the walkway to avoid being spotted. Though a few lights had gone out in Penelo’s apartment, he could yet hear the rumbling bass of Basch’s voice through the walls, though he could not quite make out the words. He slipped into the shadows at the end of the walkway, resting silently and motionlessly against the cool bricks there.

            Shortly thereafter, the front door opened and Basch stepped out.

            “Thank you for dinner,” he said. “It was wonderful.”

            “Thank you for joining us,” Penelo replied warmly. “Ellie really enjoyed it. Come again, okay?”

            Ellie. So their daughter’s name was Ellie.

            “I will,” he said. “Lock your doors. I can be reached at The Sandsea if you have need of me.”

            “Okay,” she said. “Good night, Basch.”

            He returned the parting comment, turning to leave, and she closed the door behind him. Balthier heard the soft snick of the lock engaging. He watched Basch’s retreating figure until he was out of sight. Within, he could hear Penelo preparing for bed. One by one the lights flickered off.

            All went quiet. He waited there in the shadows for a good twenty minutes longer, giving her plenty of time to fall asleep, lest it seem to her that he’d been doing exactly what he had been doing – lurking in hallways.

            Then, quietly, he got out his lock pick and went to work on the front door.