[Fic] FFXII - These Unending Alchemies of Honour (Vaan/Gabranth, Basch, Larsa, Penelo) (PG13) (2/5)
Title: These Unending Alchemies of Honour | Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four • Part Five
For: chaosraven
Medium: Fic
Request(s): Vaan/Gabranth. Post-game, Gabranth lives to tell the tale and Vaan is stuck with conflicting feelings.
Fandom(s): FFXII:OGC
Characters/Pairings: Vaan/Gabranth, Basch, Larsa, Penelo
Rating: PG13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers through the end of the game. Full disclosure: canonically, Vaan is 17 and Gabranth is 36 so. Uh. Yeah.
Fran materialized in Basch's room one day.
It was not until he saw her that he realized what a relief it was to have her quiet, stoic strength beside him again, and to know that as she was here, Balthier lived, too.
He melted onto the couch, opposite the end on which she perched. Closed his eyes.
"Fran," he said. "You're all right."
She said nothing of herself. Instead: "And you are not."
His breath trickled out in a sigh, and his head tipped back over the couch. He stared at the ceiling, and didn't reply.
They were silent together for a time, not uncomfortable, until he felt a slight stir from her. A thread of her magick reached him; a clever mix of arcane spells: a gentle influx of energy, draining herself a little to support him, and a small bubble of strength welling up inside and around him. He felt lighter; or else the world felt lighter upon his shoulders.
He turned to face her.
"Thank you, Fran." Then, reminded by her magick: "And... thank you. For Noah."
She nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
And this time, now, with Fran, Basch could not help asking. "Why did you?"
She tilted her head. "You carry Chaos, Walker of the Wheel. Do you not?"
"Yes."
"I carry Cúchulainn." The Impure, and once a healer, and swallowing all of the vagaries of men.
"Fran..." Basch breathed, and then was unsure what he meant to say. I am so tired, or there will never be thanks enough, or there are times I wish you hadn't; and he knew each one useless to say, as she could doubtless read them on him as if limned into his skin, these things he could not say aloud.
Instead he said, "Vaan and Penelo still have the Strahl. They've been taking care of her."
She smiled; Basch had long learned to look for her smiles in her eyes and in her voice, as her mouth was ever set and serious. "Balthier has gone to see them."
"Do you plan to stay long?"
"No."
"Are you taking the Strahl?"
"No." Another smile in her voice. "We do not need it. Let the children play a while."
"Fran... thank you. You and Balthier. For Rabanastre."
She said nothing to this, a quiet acceptance.
Then, as if reminded, a flatter statement: "Basch. You are unwell."
Basch grimaced at his unsuccessful avoidance of the subject.
"Merely busy."
He could feel her stoic stare upon him.
"Noah's job requires much work," he amended. "Gabranth has much to do, with the Judges Magister dead but for Zargabaath."
"You are not at ease with your brother."
"No," he agreed. There was not much more to say of it.
"Time is only time," she said. "It will pass, as will all else."
Basch sighed, and nodded. A viera knew time as no other.
And Fran knew him, too, and knew platitudes for worthless. There were things broken between him and Noah that perhaps could not be mended- but time would pass, and with it, all the things that nothing else would touch. Perhaps they would never be able to speak of Nalbina, of Raminas, of Reks- but every day the scars upon his wrists and neck and face grew fainter.
Time, if nothing else.
Fran had passed the moment in silence, and spoke again only then, as if she could see the understandinjg of her meaning upon him. "I must go now to meet Balthier."
"Convey my thanks to him. And... be well, the both of you. Wherever you are going."
"I shall tell him." A last, small smile in her voice.
He heard her rise from her end of the couch, and his eyes slipped closed against the sound of her leaving.
But a wisp of magick reached him as he heard his door shut; another small gift, silent and unasked-for.
Basch stared at the ceiling.
He realized he had yet to take off his armour. Gabranth's armour.
He rose.
The task was routine, in this and a thousand other variations.
No pressing urgency this time. No need to involve reluctant boys with brothers even more lost than his own. Basch closed his eyes a moment, against the memory of Vaan kneeling at his feet, against the stiffness that had held his tongue from asking the question he could ask Fran. Why?
Tonight, merely a routine, slow and silent.
And it gave him time to think.
About Larsa.
And the Senate.
Senator Aldebrand worried him. And Senator Ladare more. If the Senate must ratify the treaty... But Larsa had said they were unlikely to act openly- and that was the cause of his disquiet. Basch had ever preferred to face the declared opponent, open and honest.
But that was not the way of things in Archades. And Basch, his simple soldier's heart, unable to guide Larsa through the mire.
What forms would their deceit take? No spy, he; a soldier, a captain, a prisoner, a renegade. No subtlety in his soul for these tasks, this delving into the depths of mens' dishonours to find the threat that lurked there. It made him wonder at his brother; how Noah managed the task.
Aldebrand he might guess at: smuggling, perhaps, some more subtle form of evasion.
But Ladare...
Larsa had spoken of dismantling Draklor's military branch. Larsa was bold, with a confidence in his own politicking that kept Basch awake at night with the thought of how its first failure may come.
This, too, he wondered: how Noah had stood the guardianship of such a boy.
The armour done; only the leathers remained, and he peeled those off before hanging everything on the armour stand.
Basch felt still that Noah's duties were beyond him, and Larsa's coaching, however well-versed, no remedy for Basch's inexperience. And they had been weeks at the negotiations, here. It was time to return, to begin the long work. But Noah lay in the healers' compound still.
They would need Noah. They would need some way to speak to him, over the leagues and leagues.
Basch's hand brushed the pouch where he kept his esper sigils, and in the middle of removing the last of his arms and armament Chaos's wind howled through him, in circles upon circles upon circles. Basch made to jerk his hand away- but instead he felt himself tugging the pouch open and fishing the stone out, ignoring Zalera's beside it.
He held the sigil before him, and his eyes slipped closed.
Once-fellow trav'ler of the Wheel, with hands and heart unbroken come, and mourn to me about this pass? Chaos whispered to him, a fell wind through his heart. I live and live, ever reborn.
Basch watched the light flicker within the stone, wondering. Do I not walk with you still?
Once ever-warder of the weak, what failing dogs your journey now? You guard, and fail, and guard once more; can you not smell the changing winds?
Basch closed his eyes. I sense no change. And I am tired.
Chaos' winds howled, angry and full of contempt. You, with your journey near its end, would come seek sympathy from me? Die first a thousand deaths and more; oh mortal, tell me then if still you bend to breaking 'neath the weight.
Basch sighed, set the stone aside. His journey near its end? He still felt tired, as before, and he still guarded, as before, and the work before him seemed endless.
Basch sat on his bed, and stared at his hands.
It would be, he realized, a long time yet until they felt once more his own.
________________________
When Basch found Vaan and Penelo in Lowtown, his news didn't come as much of a surprise to Vaan. Vaan had seen Gabranth, and the man looked like hell. Warmed over. Twice.
Vaan still wasn't used to seeing Basch in neither the armour nor his crazy collection of donated clothes. Basch really didn't do undercover that great-too much of that quiet driven intensity-and Vaan wondered how Gabranth had ever managed to be a spy if they were both like that.
And he looked tired. Well. Maybe that part made a good cover. Most everyone Vaan knew looked tired lately.
"Vaan, Penelo. I must ask something of you." He sounded tired, too.
Penelo gave him an encouraging nod over her armful of packages.
"Is there a place to speak here?" Basch asked, quiet and casual and distinctly not glancing around.
Penelo exchanged a quick look with Vaan. "Storehouse Five?"
Agreement, and they made their way there, through the emptying dregs of Lowtown. People had begun to move back up, when they could, and the crooked streets were slowly losing the dim light of life, the knickknacks and hanging carpets and ribbons and running children and all those little things that had made the place seem livable. Barely. There was an impending quiet here, a small death of spirit, and though Vaan knew it should be this way, that everyone should be living up above in the Dalmascan sun and Lowtown should just be barrels and boxes and rats- still, it felt strange and sad to him.
Still, they went for even more privacy, and slipped into Storehouse Five, and beyond, into the old hunting grounds of someone who'd been called Vaan Ratsbane by old men who smiled at his sky pirate dreams, it felt like ages ago now.
Vaan frowned. Weird, to be down here again, where everything had both started and started going wrong.
Penelo sat on the steps, cradling her packages in her lap, and Basch hunkered down across from her, clasping his hands, elbows on his knees.
"Larsa must return to Archades soon." He really sounded damn tired. Vaan leaned against the stairwell wall, crossing his arms and watching, listening. "The negotiations proceed, and as soon as a preliminary agreement is reached, he must bring it to Archades. And there, he must persuade the Senate to accept it."
Basch took a deep breath, and looked up at Vaan, then across at Penelo, meeting both their eyes.
"It is the Senate that worries me. Noah has given me two names already, Senators that may cause trouble. But- I do not know enough." His hands fell apart, a small helpless gesture that made Vaan shift uncomfortably. "We need Noah's knowledge. But he recovers slowly. I must- I must have a way to speak with him, while in Archades."
And again, meeting both their eyes, face open with the discomfort of the coming request, and Vaan knew it, really, he knew what was coming, and even if Basch realized that- well.
That didn't really make it better. And the request came anyway.
"Would you be willing to carry information between Archades and Rabanastre, in secret?"
"Us?" Vaan frowned. "Why us? Why not Balthier and Fran?"
"They are too notorious. Balthier would be arrested on sight in Archades, let alone the palace. Your faces are not as well-known."
"Not yet, anyway!" Penelo laughed. Vaan shot her a tense look. Did she really want to spend their first months as sky pirates playing messengers for the royals and hanging around Gabranth?
But something in Basch's face... eased, and it occurred to Vaan to wonder how much of the way she was acting was just Penelo and how much was... for Basch. He guiltily unhunched his shoulders a little.
"I have discussed the possibility with Ashe and Larsa. They will reward you for your service."
Penelo waved that aside, smiling. "You don't have to do that."
"We'll take it," Vaan declared, because of the glint in Penelo's eyes and the guilty look in Basch's, because that was just how it kept happening, because they were there and they were trusted and they would end up doing it anyway, whether or not Vaan wished they'd dropped Gabranth somewhere between the Bahamut and the Strahl, and possibly set him on fire on the way down. He twitched up a smile. "It can be our first take, as sky pirates." Penelo's frown at his contradicting her melted into a grin. Then, because Ashe and Larsa were easier than- everything else, and when had Ashe become easier to deal with than the rest of his life? But still, it was better, so: "How does our mighty Queen feel about hiring sky pirates for messengers?"
A smile, small and a little pathetic, twitched across Basch's face. "Her prejudices have been dulled somewhat lately. Larsa, at least, finds it more than a little amusing." Basch's face grew serious again, the smiles dropping like stones.
"Thank you. Thank you both."
Penelo waved that away, too. Vaan said nothing.
"I shall ask Noah to tell you of his contacts and some secret ways into the city. Ashe will send someone to Migelo's to trade dispatches for a specific combination of items when she needs you." He handed Penelo a slip of paper, and she unfolded it for a quick look, showed it to Vaan. The items, he saw, were completely unremarkable as a group, but in very specific quantities and- just the right stuff to pack for an overland trip to Archades. Vaan wanted to smile, except: "Noah dictated the list. It is not uncommon practice, he tells me."
A silence at that. Vaan wondered when he'd stopped being able to talk around Basch.
Penelo tucked away the paper with a slightly ostentatious fuss, and tilted her head at Basch over her lapful of packages. "Would you like to stay for dinner? It's just us and Migelo and Kytes tonight, and Migelo got some Madhu in last week."
Basch grimaced apology. "I must be present for the court dinner with Larsa tonight; he is being feasted for his leavetaking."
Penelo's teeth clipped her bottom lip for a moment before her mouth stretched into an easy smile. "Some other time, then okay? You're always welcome down here, Basch."
Not Captain, or General, or Judge, Vaan noted.
"I shall try, before leaving."
Penelo grinned up at Basch as he left.
Vaan sighed, and considered the trip to Gabranth's room, tipping his head against the clammy stone at his back.
Penelo watched him for a moment. "I'll go," she offered, quietly.
Vaan didn't know what to say to that, and that made him angry, because this was Penelo and dammit, why was this getting in the way of everything that should have been simple?
He jerked his head in a nod, and they made their way out of the storehouse and into the too-quiet halls of Lowtown.
________________________
Basch watched as Penelo hopped onto the railing and sat, kicking her heels against the balusters. Rabanastre lay below them, bridges and archways and people everywhere, and beyond, the Estersands, the view pedestrian and magnificent. Basch leaned against the warm stone beside her, some of the stiffness leaking out of his back, to be replaced with a dull ache. He hadn't realized how much tension he'd been carrying...
Penelo smiled at him and patted the spot beside her. "Come on up." At his hesitation her smile widened into a grin. "It can be part of your disguise."
Neither Captain Ronsenburg nor Judge Magister Gabranth would be sitting on the railing next to the bazaar dancer, watching the people pass above and below and all around. Basch grinned, too, and slung himself over, only a little awkward. Penelo made him feel both young and old; had it been that long ago that he and Noah would spend time like this...?
Penelo was too much like a sister to him.
She tapped him on the shoulder and thrust a rich-smelling meat pasty under his nose. "Eat," she commanded. "I know you haven't been."
He took it and ate, obediently, and for a while it was just a companionable silence of chewing and the sun setting over their city. His city. His home, now...
She finished hers first, hungry after her performance, and fastidiously flicked the crumbs off her outfit. Strange, to see her in her dancing clothes. It had been weeks since she had invited him to come see her dance; scant days since he had had to refuse her dinner, and when he'd had a spare moment... Or perhaps he had conjured one for her, on this last day in Rabanastre. Or for himself. He was no longer sure. The past days had blurred together into a routine that wasn't, a pattern that he still couldn't discern. When he'd found all of half of an unscheduled hour this evening, with the lure of something simple and easy- he had pushed and shoved and stretched that little slice of time until he could just feel less strangled.
And then he had made his escape.
He felt a twinge of guilt even now, even after he had made sure he would not be needed, and he brushed the last crumbs off his own plain trews, resisted the urge to tug at his fraying brown vest.
"I'm glad you could get away," she said softly.
"As am I." True, despite his misgivings. Entirely too true.
"You shouldn't feel bad for wanting a break, you know."
He startled, turning to face her, to be met with her eyes, concerned and amused. He never knew anyone else who could laugh and worry at once like that, both with perfect sincerity. He suspected it had something to do with growing up around Vaan.
"How is Vaan? I am sorry he... got caught up in the middle of this."
Penelo heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. "He put himself there. Oh!" Her hands fluttered halfway to her mouth before she stilled them, balling them into loose little fists. "Okay, maybe that's unfair. I would have smacked him if he hadn't. But... well..." She sighed again, sounding less exasperated and more simply tired. "Honestly? He's still mad. But I think... I think he'll be okay. He's- thinking. Starting to. A little." She made a strange little face, as if that concept sat strangely with her experience of Vaan.
Basch was still sorting through his own feelings. He couldn't blame Vaan for taking his time, too.
Penelo looked to be about to say something, hesitated. Then, a little too quickly: "How's Larsa?"
Basch grinned. "Busy. Tired. Magnificent." Glad she had asked- that clear-eyed frankness that saw through the titles and honours, down to the core of a man. It was not that she was unimpressed by titles, but perhaps that their glamour wore off so quickly for her. It was, he realized, little wonder that he felt such ease around her, or that Larsa valued her presence so.
"Gabr- Noah... really did a good job keeping him safe, didn't he?"
Basch's grin faded. "He did."
Basch was under no illusions- it was not just Larsa's person Gabranth had been given to guard, but his innocence, the hope that welled within him, the purity of his intentions unsullied by the dire politicking that was the lifeblood of Archades. Basch wondered at it again: Larsa perhaps less in need of protection now, but Basch would soon be in Archades with him, where he feared it would be he and not his charge who needed help staying afloat. A discomfiting feeling.
"He'll be okay," Penelo said quietly. Basch remembered her saying the same after she'd cut his hair, staring at Noah in the hospital bed. But Basch wondered, for a dizzy moment, who she meant now- Noah, or Larsa, or Vaan. Or, likely all of them, the men her life had grown to touch. Her life had grown larger, these months, and still she took it in stride. Basch felt sometimes his own life had grown smaller, down to something that could be encased in one metal coffin that he carried about him.
Penelo dusted her hands of the last of her meal, smile back in place. "You take care of yourself in Archades! Make sure Larsa's okay, but you make you're okay, too! Eat, sleep. Or I swear on Hashmal's horns, I will go over there and tuck you both in myself!" She scrunched her face at him, sticking out her tongue.
Basch smiled, surprising himself with a small chuckle, even. "I shall try."
"You'd better!" She hopped up, balancing easily on the balustrade. "I've got to get back to Migelo's. But we'll see you soon in Archades, right?" Basch nodded, and Penelo peered at him for a moment in stern suspicion of his ability to take care of himself.
Then she hopped off the railing, and deposited something by his side, before waving and trotting away.
Basch unwrapped the bundle, to find another meat pasty within.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he sat there on the balustrade for a while longer, staring out over the city as he chewed.
________________________
Gabranth heard the familiar clank of his armour coming down the hall. It was strange, still, to hear it from the outside. Strange, still, to see his twin looking like a mirror of himself again-or a window into what could have been but for his own mistakes.
Basch knocked lightly on the door; a courtesy none of the healers observed. And Gabranth was strong enough now to call out a response. Though he wondered, sometimes, if it was more a stiff formality than a courtesy, or both, and Basch just needed a moment to collect himself before facing Gabranth.
The door creaked open, exposing a thickening line of Basch's face, and Gabranth saw him take a breath before stepping inside. Gabranth's swallow stuck in his throat, but he smoothed any expression away from his face as Basch entered the room.
"Noah," Basch said. He always seemed to get that far and stop, Gabranth thought. As if asserting that bond was the only thing he could think to do before Gabranth, and beyond that he was lost. Fair enough, Gabranth thought with a purely internal grimace. Gabranth did not even know where to begin. Basch, at least, had a place to start.
Noah.
The silence stretched.
Finally: "Larsa's airship departs upon the hour. I... thank you, for your help. Vaan and Penelo will come when they need to know how to reach me."
Gabranth nodded. He reached for the table at his bedside, for the parchment there.
A list of agents, painstakingly written out with his awkwardly bandaged hands.
They still shook, when he was tired, when he had to handle something small.
Basch took the paper, unfolded it. Gabranth looked away from the sight of his unsteady scrawl, glowing through the warm translucence of the parchment.
"Burn it," he whispered. "Memorize it, and burn it."
Basch's look- Gabranth's wished he could not read it, but he had never lost the trick of it, not with Basch. Determined, but mostly lost, confused and stiff and Gabranth wanted to turn away from this unwanted understanding.
The silence grew thick between them.
His heart beat on, measuring out the slow and endless seconds.
Breathe, dog.
Basch closed his eyes, finally, a breath before battle. When he opened them again, he looked at Noah, straight and hard and almost pleading but for the traceries of anger still behind it.
"Noah. I chose my country. You chose your family. There is no dishonour in this."
Gabranth's eyes slid shut, in pain, or something like it. He could hear Basch shifting near the bed, out of arm's reach.
"A speedy recovery to you, Noah."
Gabranth heard Basch turn, and his heart leapt stuttering in his chest- the words tumbled from him, quiet and urgent as his eyes flew open. "Be well... Basch."
Basch stopped, and half-turned, opening his mouth as if to speak. But no more words came, and in the end Basch nodded, and left.
Gabranth stared at the ceiling.
What honour left to him? He could not even protect Larsa, now.
What now of Landis? Of Dalmasca? He had thought to save them both, in different ways, and each time proven wrong. He had fought for his land, and seen Landis raped for it; he had killed to subdue Dalmasca with two deaths and nothing more, and Dalmasca had fought on despite him. And for his role, the boy Vaan and the Lady Ashelia hovered as ghosts around him, the one distant and the other just out of arm's reach, accusing stares holding the debt of his life in their hands.
Gabranth stared at his own bandaged hands. Honour ran through his fingers like the endless Dalmascan sands; and it changed, every time he thought he understood it. These unending alchemies...
The last echoes of Basch's leavetaking brushed down the hall, and Gabranth stared at the ceiling, hands flat and useless on the bedspread.
________________________
( Part Three )
________________________
For: chaosraven
Medium: Fic
Request(s): Vaan/Gabranth. Post-game, Gabranth lives to tell the tale and Vaan is stuck with conflicting feelings.
Fandom(s): FFXII:OGC
Characters/Pairings: Vaan/Gabranth, Basch, Larsa, Penelo
Rating: PG13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers through the end of the game. Full disclosure: canonically, Vaan is 17 and Gabranth is 36 so. Uh. Yeah.
Fran materialized in Basch's room one day.
It was not until he saw her that he realized what a relief it was to have her quiet, stoic strength beside him again, and to know that as she was here, Balthier lived, too.
He melted onto the couch, opposite the end on which she perched. Closed his eyes.
"Fran," he said. "You're all right."
She said nothing of herself. Instead: "And you are not."
His breath trickled out in a sigh, and his head tipped back over the couch. He stared at the ceiling, and didn't reply.
They were silent together for a time, not uncomfortable, until he felt a slight stir from her. A thread of her magick reached him; a clever mix of arcane spells: a gentle influx of energy, draining herself a little to support him, and a small bubble of strength welling up inside and around him. He felt lighter; or else the world felt lighter upon his shoulders.
He turned to face her.
"Thank you, Fran." Then, reminded by her magick: "And... thank you. For Noah."
She nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
And this time, now, with Fran, Basch could not help asking. "Why did you?"
She tilted her head. "You carry Chaos, Walker of the Wheel. Do you not?"
"Yes."
"I carry Cúchulainn." The Impure, and once a healer, and swallowing all of the vagaries of men.
"Fran..." Basch breathed, and then was unsure what he meant to say. I am so tired, or there will never be thanks enough, or there are times I wish you hadn't; and he knew each one useless to say, as she could doubtless read them on him as if limned into his skin, these things he could not say aloud.
Instead he said, "Vaan and Penelo still have the Strahl. They've been taking care of her."
She smiled; Basch had long learned to look for her smiles in her eyes and in her voice, as her mouth was ever set and serious. "Balthier has gone to see them."
"Do you plan to stay long?"
"No."
"Are you taking the Strahl?"
"No." Another smile in her voice. "We do not need it. Let the children play a while."
"Fran... thank you. You and Balthier. For Rabanastre."
She said nothing to this, a quiet acceptance.
Then, as if reminded, a flatter statement: "Basch. You are unwell."
Basch grimaced at his unsuccessful avoidance of the subject.
"Merely busy."
He could feel her stoic stare upon him.
"Noah's job requires much work," he amended. "Gabranth has much to do, with the Judges Magister dead but for Zargabaath."
"You are not at ease with your brother."
"No," he agreed. There was not much more to say of it.
"Time is only time," she said. "It will pass, as will all else."
Basch sighed, and nodded. A viera knew time as no other.
And Fran knew him, too, and knew platitudes for worthless. There were things broken between him and Noah that perhaps could not be mended- but time would pass, and with it, all the things that nothing else would touch. Perhaps they would never be able to speak of Nalbina, of Raminas, of Reks- but every day the scars upon his wrists and neck and face grew fainter.
Time, if nothing else.
Fran had passed the moment in silence, and spoke again only then, as if she could see the understandinjg of her meaning upon him. "I must go now to meet Balthier."
"Convey my thanks to him. And... be well, the both of you. Wherever you are going."
"I shall tell him." A last, small smile in her voice.
He heard her rise from her end of the couch, and his eyes slipped closed against the sound of her leaving.
But a wisp of magick reached him as he heard his door shut; another small gift, silent and unasked-for.
Basch stared at the ceiling.
He realized he had yet to take off his armour. Gabranth's armour.
He rose.
The task was routine, in this and a thousand other variations.
No pressing urgency this time. No need to involve reluctant boys with brothers even more lost than his own. Basch closed his eyes a moment, against the memory of Vaan kneeling at his feet, against the stiffness that had held his tongue from asking the question he could ask Fran. Why?
Tonight, merely a routine, slow and silent.
And it gave him time to think.
About Larsa.
And the Senate.
Senator Aldebrand worried him. And Senator Ladare more. If the Senate must ratify the treaty... But Larsa had said they were unlikely to act openly- and that was the cause of his disquiet. Basch had ever preferred to face the declared opponent, open and honest.
But that was not the way of things in Archades. And Basch, his simple soldier's heart, unable to guide Larsa through the mire.
What forms would their deceit take? No spy, he; a soldier, a captain, a prisoner, a renegade. No subtlety in his soul for these tasks, this delving into the depths of mens' dishonours to find the threat that lurked there. It made him wonder at his brother; how Noah managed the task.
Aldebrand he might guess at: smuggling, perhaps, some more subtle form of evasion.
But Ladare...
Larsa had spoken of dismantling Draklor's military branch. Larsa was bold, with a confidence in his own politicking that kept Basch awake at night with the thought of how its first failure may come.
This, too, he wondered: how Noah had stood the guardianship of such a boy.
The armour done; only the leathers remained, and he peeled those off before hanging everything on the armour stand.
Basch felt still that Noah's duties were beyond him, and Larsa's coaching, however well-versed, no remedy for Basch's inexperience. And they had been weeks at the negotiations, here. It was time to return, to begin the long work. But Noah lay in the healers' compound still.
They would need Noah. They would need some way to speak to him, over the leagues and leagues.
Basch's hand brushed the pouch where he kept his esper sigils, and in the middle of removing the last of his arms and armament Chaos's wind howled through him, in circles upon circles upon circles. Basch made to jerk his hand away- but instead he felt himself tugging the pouch open and fishing the stone out, ignoring Zalera's beside it.
He held the sigil before him, and his eyes slipped closed.
Once-fellow trav'ler of the Wheel, with hands and heart unbroken come, and mourn to me about this pass? Chaos whispered to him, a fell wind through his heart. I live and live, ever reborn.
Basch watched the light flicker within the stone, wondering. Do I not walk with you still?
Once ever-warder of the weak, what failing dogs your journey now? You guard, and fail, and guard once more; can you not smell the changing winds?
Basch closed his eyes. I sense no change. And I am tired.
Chaos' winds howled, angry and full of contempt. You, with your journey near its end, would come seek sympathy from me? Die first a thousand deaths and more; oh mortal, tell me then if still you bend to breaking 'neath the weight.
Basch sighed, set the stone aside. His journey near its end? He still felt tired, as before, and he still guarded, as before, and the work before him seemed endless.
Basch sat on his bed, and stared at his hands.
It would be, he realized, a long time yet until they felt once more his own.
________________________
When Basch found Vaan and Penelo in Lowtown, his news didn't come as much of a surprise to Vaan. Vaan had seen Gabranth, and the man looked like hell. Warmed over. Twice.
Vaan still wasn't used to seeing Basch in neither the armour nor his crazy collection of donated clothes. Basch really didn't do undercover that great-too much of that quiet driven intensity-and Vaan wondered how Gabranth had ever managed to be a spy if they were both like that.
And he looked tired. Well. Maybe that part made a good cover. Most everyone Vaan knew looked tired lately.
"Vaan, Penelo. I must ask something of you." He sounded tired, too.
Penelo gave him an encouraging nod over her armful of packages.
"Is there a place to speak here?" Basch asked, quiet and casual and distinctly not glancing around.
Penelo exchanged a quick look with Vaan. "Storehouse Five?"
Agreement, and they made their way there, through the emptying dregs of Lowtown. People had begun to move back up, when they could, and the crooked streets were slowly losing the dim light of life, the knickknacks and hanging carpets and ribbons and running children and all those little things that had made the place seem livable. Barely. There was an impending quiet here, a small death of spirit, and though Vaan knew it should be this way, that everyone should be living up above in the Dalmascan sun and Lowtown should just be barrels and boxes and rats- still, it felt strange and sad to him.
Still, they went for even more privacy, and slipped into Storehouse Five, and beyond, into the old hunting grounds of someone who'd been called Vaan Ratsbane by old men who smiled at his sky pirate dreams, it felt like ages ago now.
Vaan frowned. Weird, to be down here again, where everything had both started and started going wrong.
Penelo sat on the steps, cradling her packages in her lap, and Basch hunkered down across from her, clasping his hands, elbows on his knees.
"Larsa must return to Archades soon." He really sounded damn tired. Vaan leaned against the stairwell wall, crossing his arms and watching, listening. "The negotiations proceed, and as soon as a preliminary agreement is reached, he must bring it to Archades. And there, he must persuade the Senate to accept it."
Basch took a deep breath, and looked up at Vaan, then across at Penelo, meeting both their eyes.
"It is the Senate that worries me. Noah has given me two names already, Senators that may cause trouble. But- I do not know enough." His hands fell apart, a small helpless gesture that made Vaan shift uncomfortably. "We need Noah's knowledge. But he recovers slowly. I must- I must have a way to speak with him, while in Archades."
And again, meeting both their eyes, face open with the discomfort of the coming request, and Vaan knew it, really, he knew what was coming, and even if Basch realized that- well.
That didn't really make it better. And the request came anyway.
"Would you be willing to carry information between Archades and Rabanastre, in secret?"
"Us?" Vaan frowned. "Why us? Why not Balthier and Fran?"
"They are too notorious. Balthier would be arrested on sight in Archades, let alone the palace. Your faces are not as well-known."
"Not yet, anyway!" Penelo laughed. Vaan shot her a tense look. Did she really want to spend their first months as sky pirates playing messengers for the royals and hanging around Gabranth?
But something in Basch's face... eased, and it occurred to Vaan to wonder how much of the way she was acting was just Penelo and how much was... for Basch. He guiltily unhunched his shoulders a little.
"I have discussed the possibility with Ashe and Larsa. They will reward you for your service."
Penelo waved that aside, smiling. "You don't have to do that."
"We'll take it," Vaan declared, because of the glint in Penelo's eyes and the guilty look in Basch's, because that was just how it kept happening, because they were there and they were trusted and they would end up doing it anyway, whether or not Vaan wished they'd dropped Gabranth somewhere between the Bahamut and the Strahl, and possibly set him on fire on the way down. He twitched up a smile. "It can be our first take, as sky pirates." Penelo's frown at his contradicting her melted into a grin. Then, because Ashe and Larsa were easier than- everything else, and when had Ashe become easier to deal with than the rest of his life? But still, it was better, so: "How does our mighty Queen feel about hiring sky pirates for messengers?"
A smile, small and a little pathetic, twitched across Basch's face. "Her prejudices have been dulled somewhat lately. Larsa, at least, finds it more than a little amusing." Basch's face grew serious again, the smiles dropping like stones.
"Thank you. Thank you both."
Penelo waved that away, too. Vaan said nothing.
"I shall ask Noah to tell you of his contacts and some secret ways into the city. Ashe will send someone to Migelo's to trade dispatches for a specific combination of items when she needs you." He handed Penelo a slip of paper, and she unfolded it for a quick look, showed it to Vaan. The items, he saw, were completely unremarkable as a group, but in very specific quantities and- just the right stuff to pack for an overland trip to Archades. Vaan wanted to smile, except: "Noah dictated the list. It is not uncommon practice, he tells me."
A silence at that. Vaan wondered when he'd stopped being able to talk around Basch.
Penelo tucked away the paper with a slightly ostentatious fuss, and tilted her head at Basch over her lapful of packages. "Would you like to stay for dinner? It's just us and Migelo and Kytes tonight, and Migelo got some Madhu in last week."
Basch grimaced apology. "I must be present for the court dinner with Larsa tonight; he is being feasted for his leavetaking."
Penelo's teeth clipped her bottom lip for a moment before her mouth stretched into an easy smile. "Some other time, then okay? You're always welcome down here, Basch."
Not Captain, or General, or Judge, Vaan noted.
"I shall try, before leaving."
Penelo grinned up at Basch as he left.
Vaan sighed, and considered the trip to Gabranth's room, tipping his head against the clammy stone at his back.
Penelo watched him for a moment. "I'll go," she offered, quietly.
Vaan didn't know what to say to that, and that made him angry, because this was Penelo and dammit, why was this getting in the way of everything that should have been simple?
He jerked his head in a nod, and they made their way out of the storehouse and into the too-quiet halls of Lowtown.
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Basch watched as Penelo hopped onto the railing and sat, kicking her heels against the balusters. Rabanastre lay below them, bridges and archways and people everywhere, and beyond, the Estersands, the view pedestrian and magnificent. Basch leaned against the warm stone beside her, some of the stiffness leaking out of his back, to be replaced with a dull ache. He hadn't realized how much tension he'd been carrying...
Penelo smiled at him and patted the spot beside her. "Come on up." At his hesitation her smile widened into a grin. "It can be part of your disguise."
Neither Captain Ronsenburg nor Judge Magister Gabranth would be sitting on the railing next to the bazaar dancer, watching the people pass above and below and all around. Basch grinned, too, and slung himself over, only a little awkward. Penelo made him feel both young and old; had it been that long ago that he and Noah would spend time like this...?
Penelo was too much like a sister to him.
She tapped him on the shoulder and thrust a rich-smelling meat pasty under his nose. "Eat," she commanded. "I know you haven't been."
He took it and ate, obediently, and for a while it was just a companionable silence of chewing and the sun setting over their city. His city. His home, now...
She finished hers first, hungry after her performance, and fastidiously flicked the crumbs off her outfit. Strange, to see her in her dancing clothes. It had been weeks since she had invited him to come see her dance; scant days since he had had to refuse her dinner, and when he'd had a spare moment... Or perhaps he had conjured one for her, on this last day in Rabanastre. Or for himself. He was no longer sure. The past days had blurred together into a routine that wasn't, a pattern that he still couldn't discern. When he'd found all of half of an unscheduled hour this evening, with the lure of something simple and easy- he had pushed and shoved and stretched that little slice of time until he could just feel less strangled.
And then he had made his escape.
He felt a twinge of guilt even now, even after he had made sure he would not be needed, and he brushed the last crumbs off his own plain trews, resisted the urge to tug at his fraying brown vest.
"I'm glad you could get away," she said softly.
"As am I." True, despite his misgivings. Entirely too true.
"You shouldn't feel bad for wanting a break, you know."
He startled, turning to face her, to be met with her eyes, concerned and amused. He never knew anyone else who could laugh and worry at once like that, both with perfect sincerity. He suspected it had something to do with growing up around Vaan.
"How is Vaan? I am sorry he... got caught up in the middle of this."
Penelo heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. "He put himself there. Oh!" Her hands fluttered halfway to her mouth before she stilled them, balling them into loose little fists. "Okay, maybe that's unfair. I would have smacked him if he hadn't. But... well..." She sighed again, sounding less exasperated and more simply tired. "Honestly? He's still mad. But I think... I think he'll be okay. He's- thinking. Starting to. A little." She made a strange little face, as if that concept sat strangely with her experience of Vaan.
Basch was still sorting through his own feelings. He couldn't blame Vaan for taking his time, too.
Penelo looked to be about to say something, hesitated. Then, a little too quickly: "How's Larsa?"
Basch grinned. "Busy. Tired. Magnificent." Glad she had asked- that clear-eyed frankness that saw through the titles and honours, down to the core of a man. It was not that she was unimpressed by titles, but perhaps that their glamour wore off so quickly for her. It was, he realized, little wonder that he felt such ease around her, or that Larsa valued her presence so.
"Gabr- Noah... really did a good job keeping him safe, didn't he?"
Basch's grin faded. "He did."
Basch was under no illusions- it was not just Larsa's person Gabranth had been given to guard, but his innocence, the hope that welled within him, the purity of his intentions unsullied by the dire politicking that was the lifeblood of Archades. Basch wondered at it again: Larsa perhaps less in need of protection now, but Basch would soon be in Archades with him, where he feared it would be he and not his charge who needed help staying afloat. A discomfiting feeling.
"He'll be okay," Penelo said quietly. Basch remembered her saying the same after she'd cut his hair, staring at Noah in the hospital bed. But Basch wondered, for a dizzy moment, who she meant now- Noah, or Larsa, or Vaan. Or, likely all of them, the men her life had grown to touch. Her life had grown larger, these months, and still she took it in stride. Basch felt sometimes his own life had grown smaller, down to something that could be encased in one metal coffin that he carried about him.
Penelo dusted her hands of the last of her meal, smile back in place. "You take care of yourself in Archades! Make sure Larsa's okay, but you make you're okay, too! Eat, sleep. Or I swear on Hashmal's horns, I will go over there and tuck you both in myself!" She scrunched her face at him, sticking out her tongue.
Basch smiled, surprising himself with a small chuckle, even. "I shall try."
"You'd better!" She hopped up, balancing easily on the balustrade. "I've got to get back to Migelo's. But we'll see you soon in Archades, right?" Basch nodded, and Penelo peered at him for a moment in stern suspicion of his ability to take care of himself.
Then she hopped off the railing, and deposited something by his side, before waving and trotting away.
Basch unwrapped the bundle, to find another meat pasty within.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he sat there on the balustrade for a while longer, staring out over the city as he chewed.
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Gabranth heard the familiar clank of his armour coming down the hall. It was strange, still, to hear it from the outside. Strange, still, to see his twin looking like a mirror of himself again-or a window into what could have been but for his own mistakes.
Basch knocked lightly on the door; a courtesy none of the healers observed. And Gabranth was strong enough now to call out a response. Though he wondered, sometimes, if it was more a stiff formality than a courtesy, or both, and Basch just needed a moment to collect himself before facing Gabranth.
The door creaked open, exposing a thickening line of Basch's face, and Gabranth saw him take a breath before stepping inside. Gabranth's swallow stuck in his throat, but he smoothed any expression away from his face as Basch entered the room.
"Noah," Basch said. He always seemed to get that far and stop, Gabranth thought. As if asserting that bond was the only thing he could think to do before Gabranth, and beyond that he was lost. Fair enough, Gabranth thought with a purely internal grimace. Gabranth did not even know where to begin. Basch, at least, had a place to start.
Noah.
The silence stretched.
Finally: "Larsa's airship departs upon the hour. I... thank you, for your help. Vaan and Penelo will come when they need to know how to reach me."
Gabranth nodded. He reached for the table at his bedside, for the parchment there.
A list of agents, painstakingly written out with his awkwardly bandaged hands.
They still shook, when he was tired, when he had to handle something small.
Basch took the paper, unfolded it. Gabranth looked away from the sight of his unsteady scrawl, glowing through the warm translucence of the parchment.
"Burn it," he whispered. "Memorize it, and burn it."
Basch's look- Gabranth's wished he could not read it, but he had never lost the trick of it, not with Basch. Determined, but mostly lost, confused and stiff and Gabranth wanted to turn away from this unwanted understanding.
The silence grew thick between them.
His heart beat on, measuring out the slow and endless seconds.
Breathe, dog.
Basch closed his eyes, finally, a breath before battle. When he opened them again, he looked at Noah, straight and hard and almost pleading but for the traceries of anger still behind it.
"Noah. I chose my country. You chose your family. There is no dishonour in this."
Gabranth's eyes slid shut, in pain, or something like it. He could hear Basch shifting near the bed, out of arm's reach.
"A speedy recovery to you, Noah."
Gabranth heard Basch turn, and his heart leapt stuttering in his chest- the words tumbled from him, quiet and urgent as his eyes flew open. "Be well... Basch."
Basch stopped, and half-turned, opening his mouth as if to speak. But no more words came, and in the end Basch nodded, and left.
Gabranth stared at the ceiling.
What honour left to him? He could not even protect Larsa, now.
What now of Landis? Of Dalmasca? He had thought to save them both, in different ways, and each time proven wrong. He had fought for his land, and seen Landis raped for it; he had killed to subdue Dalmasca with two deaths and nothing more, and Dalmasca had fought on despite him. And for his role, the boy Vaan and the Lady Ashelia hovered as ghosts around him, the one distant and the other just out of arm's reach, accusing stares holding the debt of his life in their hands.
Gabranth stared at his own bandaged hands. Honour ran through his fingers like the endless Dalmascan sands; and it changed, every time he thought he understood it. These unending alchemies...
The last echoes of Basch's leavetaking brushed down the hall, and Gabranth stared at the ceiling, hands flat and useless on the bedspread.
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( Part Three )
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