"Was it dignified that he led you on like a besotted school girl?" Piaget taunts. "Trotting you around like some prize? If he hadn't, we'd never have located you."
Balthier's hand is shaking he's so angry. It's rare he misses his shot. Still, there's a stun spell woven into the bullets, and he wastes no time turning around and throwing magic at the barrier, hitting it with the butt of the gun as he curses under his breath, fingers skimming form sort of manual release, his body still between Aerith and the door.
His fingers catch, magic finding the break in the lock. Balthier had told Piaget to update those spells. Arrogant fuck. He digs in, slipping a lock pick up to dislodge the physical mechanism when he cries out, back arching before he slumps on Aerith.
Something's hit his back, lodged right between the ribs, a second one skimming his side, white hot pain erupting in both.
He snarls again, stumbling around to throw an ice spell. His control is gone, and the temperature drops, ice crystals forming on surfaces and their air fogging the space. Piaget's face twists before he's frozen solid. Balthier never was one to play dirty, but right now, he doesn't care.
And he's going to pay for how much magic he's using, but that's a future Balthier problem. Weight still against the door, clutching his side, aware its hot with blood, he throws another spell at the door. The barrier comes down. "Lightcraft," he rasps, and manages to stumble into the cargo bay. He has to brace himself to get his leg over, and when he sets his hand on the controls, it's slick with blood. "Hold onto me," he says, trying not to wince when she tightens her grip. They don't have time to waste, and the second she's settled, he's off.
The Strahl is blessedly close because his vision is hazy and he feels sick. If he hadn't practiced this maneuver a thousand times, it wouldn't have happened, but as it is, they bump and slide inside, scraping against other cargo. He gropes for his communicator, rasping into it, "We are returned. Disengage and depart. Full defense authorized." And then he slumps over, bloodied hand grasping for where Aerith's sits around his middle. "I think -- I need your services --" What's left of his voice is weak, but it's the calmest he's felt since he realized she was gone.
However calculated Piaget's words are, they fall flat in the face of the fury radiating off of Balthier. She's never seen him this angry, and she hates herself for thinking any less of him while locked in that cell.
"Oh, go fuck yourself!" She shouts back before everything bursts into motion around her.
If asked, Aerith would not have been able to detail how they made it back to the ship, or when exactly she began to cry. At some point, his blood seeped onto her dress as well, something Aerith barely notices between the tears rolling down her face, and his bloody hand taking hold of one of hers.
"Yes, of course," she manages in a wobbly voice, her hand turning to clasp his. Aerith's legs feel shaky as she climbs back to her feet, reaching to help him get up as well.
"Balthier." So many things come to mind to say, and her tongue gets tied up trying to find the right one. She wants to apologize, wants to thank him, kiss him, and promise to never leave his side again if it's what he wants.
She says none of those things, instead opting to frown at the floor while she puts all her weight into keeping him steady.
Her voice is strained when she says his name, and nothing else follows it. He's obediently trying to dismount the lightcraft, but he stumbles, mind and body not in sync. He gropes for her hand again, leaning back to try to catch his breath. "You're alright? He didn't -- hngh -- hurt you?"
Then she's shifting him, putting his weight on her and telling him he needs to lie down. She isn't wrong, much as he wants to protest. "You too," he says, and he's not sure if he means she needs to rest or he's telling her to stay with him. He's too busy trying to walk.
Keeping them both upright and moving takes most of Aerith's focus, but she manages to shake her head when asked if Piaget harmed her.
"I'm alright," she repeats quietly, the guilt she feels for not believing in him roiling inside her.
"We're almost there." She's no muscle-bound fighter and her arms are beginning to ache from the effort, but Aerith's willing to keep this up as long as she has to, to get him back to his bed and patched up.
She doesn’t sound alright. At least he thinks she doesn’t. It’s hard to tell, hard to focus.
As she leads him toward his room, crew move to get the doors, giving them space other than to tell Aerith if she needs anything anything to use Balthier’s comm or come find them.
He’s only hazily aware of it, trying to stay upright. “Bench,” he rasps as they get inside. When she steers him to it, he all but collapses, trying to get his best off but fumbling. He just wants the blood off before he lays down.
"Stop," she says gently, trying to still his hands as he reaches for his clothing. "Just stay still, okay?"
Far too shaken to be shy about this, she reaches for the laces of his waistcoat, loosening it and carefully pulling it over his head.
"You're going to be fine," she murmurs to him, but also to reassure herself. It is a lot of blood.
After his shirt's lifted away Aerith straightens up, looking him over with a frown.
"Stay here," she retreats to his washroom and returns with a stack of clean towels and washcloths and a basin of water. Aerith sets them down on the bench beside him and kneels so she can wring out a rag and bring it up to begin to clean the wound on his side, tears welling up in her eyes again.
It’s easy to just listen to her, hands falling away as he nods, moving his arms up when she guides him. He winces, hissing as it grazes his side, but the cool air is pleasant.
There’s a feeling of panic when she tells him to stay, some visceral part of him loathe to let her out of his sight, but he doesn’t have the energy of protest, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. He hears her come back, and tries his best to stifle a moan as she starts to clean him. But he gropes around for her arm, squeezing it lightly.
“Always dramatics with pirates.” He smiles weakly, and his whole heart aches seeing the tears in her eyes.
Her heart hurts when his hand takes hold of her free arm. She wants to straight up and kiss him, thank him for risking his life, but after the time she spent believing Piaget's lies, she doesn't think she deserves to.
"What were you thinking? You could have gotten really hurt," Aerith's voice is heavy and wobbly with emotion. She doesn't dare to meet his eye and risk sobbing outright. Instead, she focuses on cleaning his wound before the need to touch him wins out, and she pulls her arm free of his hold so that her hand can squeeze his tightly.
"Balthier, I–" She squeaks out a sob when she looks at him, rising to her feet as she shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she circles out of sight to tend to the wound between his shoulders.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he agrees, hissing as they shift but squeezing her hand back best he can. “I couldn’t let him take you back there.” He winces, pain flaring, heart aching as the sob twists her face.
He must have terrified her, being violent like that and now bleeding on her. And she was there for days. The thought still makes his stomach tight.
“I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
"No, Balthier," she shakes her head, still thankful to be spared the weight of his stare right now. His words wound her, the pain he's in hurts her.
"How can you apologize? I should be the one apologizing." Aerith stops herself long enough to finish the important work of cleaning him up before she goes on. Aware he might turn her out for what she has to tell him.
"I started to believe him, and I'm so sorry. He knew so much about you, so much about us, and then, sitting in that cell day after day I–" Aerith stops herself and comes around to face him, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry. I should have never doubted you, or how I feel about you."
There’s no denying that it hurts to hear she believed Piaget about him. Even addled, he can assume how nasty those lies were. And some part of him feels resigned to it, that someone like Aerith was never going to care for someone like him. That no one ever sees past the surface, doesn’t want to.
Except he’s still too fresh off the terror of losing her.
“Piaget manipulates, and he does it well.” He can hear the tightness in his voice though.
Then she’s in front of him, filling his vision with her beautiful face, and it’s not the apology that has his heart stuttering.
He’s still dizzy, still slow, but he gingerly reaches out his clean hand to touch her hair. “I should have been clearer about how I felt, so you didn’t have to guess. I was so worried about overstepping, I didn’t think…”
"Balthier, please don't." Her hand reaches up to cover his, the sight of his face making her squeeze her eyes closed with a sob. "You came for me, that's what matters. That's all that matters."
Her fingers lace with his before she makes herself open her eyes again, giving him a sad shake of her head.
"I hope you can forgive me for giving up on you. I was scared. Thinking that I would never see you, or the Strahl again broke my heart. I never want to be without either, ever again."
His face twists, confused by the intensity of her reaction. "What did he say to you?"
But his stomach is tight, because he can guess. Piaget knows his wounds, knows how best to twist a knife, and what worse than trying to break a relationship that matters to him, crack foundations and trust beyond repair.
He squeezes the fingers interlaced in his. "I was so scared I'd lost you." He gives her a watery smile, hating how upset she is but speechlessly happy that she wants to be here, to see him.
"Come sit on your bed. I want to bandage your side, but I want you close to where you can lay down first."
Aerith keeps hold of his hand as she stands back up, releasing it so that she can offer a steadying arm instead while he rises.
"He knew so much about you and us. The places we've gone to together, the gardens, the wedding." She begins only once they're on their way. It's an upsetting conversation to have. Aerith didn't want to start it until he was close enough to his bed that if he decides to kick her out she won't leave him in a precarious position.
"He said I wasn't the first woman you used this con on. That you were just passing the time until I got handed off to him for the big payout. That you wanted me to think you cared about me because it was amusing to you."
Kicking her out couldn't be farther from his mind. He almost protests when she takes her hand away, but feels ashamed for it -- that and he's grunting through the pain in his side. He reaches out for her, steadying himself, and feels foolish for thinking she was pulling away. Had she not just expressed she didn't want to be away from the Strahl? From him?
The thought makes him feel oddly ashamed, like he's being a fool for believing it. Couldn't have heard her right.
And as she starts to speak, his heart drops. He turns his face away, however briefly, so she won't see the shame and hurt there. Hasn't she already told him she doesn't really think that? And even if she does -- he knows he isn't going to push her away. That just doesn't make it hurt less that she thought him capable of that.
"You wouldn't be the first to think that," he says, as much for her as for him. "Piaget knows how to make people doubt themselves, see the worst in a situation, and my reputation doesn't help." A reputation Piaget had started. Maybe Aerith deserved to know that.
He grimaces as she helps steer him onto the bed. With her standing, she's taller than he is, and he wants to just put his hands on her hips and lean into her. Instead he balls his hands in his lap, trying to keep his voice even.
"Llogo was his informant; paid him off to tell him everything. I -- Piaget knows I've struggled romantically. We were close for a very long time. He sabotaged my reputation, convinced someone I cared about that I'd done some terrible things, started this reputation of mine, nearly compromised the Strahl. The man you were supposed to marry, they're old friends. I'd wondered, when I decided to intercept you, if the two of them were up to something, and then when nothing came -- I got complacent."
While he speaks she kneels and starts wrapping a roll of bandages around his middle, covering the area where the throwing stars clipped his sides. Everything Balthier says makes her eyes prick with tears, ashamed of herself all over again for letting her faith in him be damaged by those days isolated in that tiny cell and Piaget's lies.
Llogo. She remembers the man, and the thought of the times she's interacted with him is enough to turn her stomach. It takes focus not to let her rising anger channel itself into wrapping his bandages too tightly, securing them off with a steadying breath before she lets herself speak again.
"I don't care about your reputation," her voice is low but serious, shifting from where she's knelt to meet his eye again. "I wanted him to be wrong, but I was so scared. Scared of where I was going, of how you weren't coming, of what the rest of my life was going to be like without you in it."
As she speaks her voice gets thick with tears and she has to stop herself with another deep breath before she brings her hand up to rest against his injured side carefully, a faint green glow filling the space between them as she starts to heal him.
He's a good patient, staying mostly still but shifting to accommodate her. Honestly, it should feel nice, having her close and safe, but this is just another thing Piaget's tainted.
He'd hoped his explanation would help, but Aerith looks just as miserable, iterating again why she acted the way she did, her voice cracking and her eyes watery. As she places her hands to begin to heal him, he manages to get a hand on her face, thumb brushing a stray tear. It's terrible intimate, but -- isn't all of this? She already feared him a selfish fool; what else does he have to lose?
"I'm not upset with you," he says very gently, arching slightly as the magic starts to set in, uncomfortable but also taking some of the pain away. "Losing my freedom, being forced back to that life -- it's one of my biggest fears." If she wasn't concentrating so hard on his open wound, he'd pull her into his chest. As it is, his hand stays firm on her cheek, and he swallows before he manages to admit, "I wasn't eating, the first mate had to use a sleep spell on me -- I was so scared you were gone forever. That you were getting sent back to that life and going to be absolutely miserable. The idea that he would have soured your memory of all this, of me -- " It's his turn to get teary.
The light of the magic fades and she's finally able to look at him again, her chest aching from the force of his words and the way he delivers them. It's clear he means everything he says and it makes her want to kick herself.
"Balthier," Aerith moves again, this time to sit on the bed beside him, her hand covering the one he rests against her cheek as her eyes lock onto his.
"If I went back I would have remembered this, and you, every day." Even if Piaget had turned out to be right, it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. Even if it was traitorous to feel that way she would have treasured their time together, and the little sliver of real life she had been allowed to enjoy. She lets his hand go to touch his cheek instead, sniffling while she searches his face before giving in and leaning forward to kiss him.
His breath comes deeper in his chest, pain dulled, and he's grateful for it. Not just the healing, but for feeling like he has a piece of her with him.
Her hand slides over his, soft and warm, and he breathes out easier, like he's finally processing she isn't going anywhere, isn't rejecting what he's telling her. Wen she speaks again, it's his turn to get teary. Her hand strays to his cheek, and he sits rigid and frozen for a moment, mind convinced he's going to scare her off if he does the wrong thing.
It doesn't register immediately that she's kissing him, but when it does, he tightens his hold on her cheek, liquid escaping his eyes as he makes a low sound of -- apology, relief, affection.
"Yes you will," he says, but there's no negativity in it. His face stays close to hers, nose pressed into her cheek. "But you're willing to give me a chance, even when things look terrible, and that's more than I could have asked for." He presses his lips to hers again, choking back the sob he feels growing in his chest, and this time when he breaks the kiss he pulls her to him with his good arm, other one resting loosely around her and he just breathes in being here, being together.
"You should go get something hot to eat," he murmurs. "And a bath, if you want it, and then if you're so inclined, you should come rest with me." He can tell the magic is already taking hold, and his eyes are getting heavy.
"Only if you're willing to give me the chance to prove you wrong." Her stomach clenches at the thought of hurting him like this again, but when he doesn't reject her and even kisses her a second time, Aerith is too filled with relief to continue to argue. Actions speak louder than words, as Balthier has unwittingly proved, and if it takes forever to show him that her faith in him is ironclad, so be it. It's not like she wants to go anywhere now that they're back together again.
She has no intention of leaving this room until he's up and about again, but Aerith nods along with what Balthier says, one hand moving to the wound between his shoulder blades to heal him while he talks. He doesn't look like he'll be upright for much longer, and she doesn't want him aggravating the wound anymore than it is.
By the time he drifts off, she's spent her power and is dead on her feet. He's not mended all the way, but in another day or so, as long as he allows her to be as diligent as she intends to be, Aerith feels good about the shape he'll be in.
With all the energy she's got left, Aerith gets a chair across the room and sets it by his bedside without making too much noise, asleep before she's fully sat down.
If he were in better shape, he'd argue further too, but as it is, he's fading. "Help me get my shoes off?" he asks, and barely remembers getting his feet out and rolling onto the bed before sleep takes him.
When he rouses, he has no idea how much time it's been, and for a panicked moment all he can think is that he shouldn't be sleeping; Aerith's out there getting farther from them every minute he wastes. "Aerith," he rasps, throat dry.
Except his back is sore and restricted, and in another moment and his eyes fall on her, and the memory of what happened comes groggily seeping back in.
As tired as she is, Aerith doesn't sleep deeply, snapping awake when he rasps her name before bursting into motion. A glass of water is filled and brought to him before she sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to feel his forehead for a fever.
"Drink this and go back to sleep," she murmurs gently. "I can heal you a little more now, it'll help you rest comfortably."
Her power has returned, but not as much as she would like, her weariness evident in her face, even the limp way her hair hangs around it a reflection of how tired and on edge she is.
He downs the glass of water, closing his eyes at the touch on his forehead. But her voice sounds ragged and she shakes his head, opening his eyes to look at her.
"You look awful," he says. "No more healing until you've slept. I'm well on my way." To prove it, he rolls his injured shoulder. And then he frowns. "You didn't eat, did you?"
"I was sleeping, and no telling the healer what to do. Your back needs healing now not later." Aerith frowns at him, her hand lifting away from his forehead so she can comb her fingers through his hair and push it back off his face.
"I'll eat soon. I'm not very hungry. Are you? Should I send for soup?"
He doesn't see why that's mutually exclusive with her resting, and is about to say as much when she offers to get food for him.
"Yes, for two," he says, catching the hand in his hair and tugging it down, just enough to turn and kiss her palm. "I'm going to use the restroom, and then you can fret over me as much as you like, and I even promise to listen." He gives her a tired smile. "It's been a long time since anyone tended me."
It's not as hard to get up as he expected; she really is a gifted healer. And when he returns, something in his chest catches at seeing her sitting on his bed, like he can't quite believe that any of this is real.
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Date: 2023-02-20 04:14 am (UTC)Balthier's hand is shaking he's so angry. It's rare he misses his shot. Still, there's a stun spell woven into the bullets, and he wastes no time turning around and throwing magic at the barrier, hitting it with the butt of the gun as he curses under his breath, fingers skimming form sort of manual release, his body still between Aerith and the door.
His fingers catch, magic finding the break in the lock. Balthier had told Piaget to update those spells. Arrogant fuck. He digs in, slipping a lock pick up to dislodge the physical mechanism when he cries out, back arching before he slumps on Aerith.
Something's hit his back, lodged right between the ribs, a second one skimming his side, white hot pain erupting in both.
He snarls again, stumbling around to throw an ice spell. His control is gone, and the temperature drops, ice crystals forming on surfaces and their air fogging the space. Piaget's face twists before he's frozen solid. Balthier never was one to play dirty, but right now, he doesn't care.
And he's going to pay for how much magic he's using, but that's a future Balthier problem. Weight still against the door, clutching his side, aware its hot with blood, he throws another spell at the door. The barrier comes down. "Lightcraft," he rasps, and manages to stumble into the cargo bay. He has to brace himself to get his leg over, and when he sets his hand on the controls, it's slick with blood. "Hold onto me," he says, trying not to wince when she tightens her grip. They don't have time to waste, and the second she's settled, he's off.
The Strahl is blessedly close because his vision is hazy and he feels sick. If he hadn't practiced this maneuver a thousand times, it wouldn't have happened, but as it is, they bump and slide inside, scraping against other cargo. He gropes for his communicator, rasping into it, "We are returned. Disengage and depart. Full defense authorized." And then he slumps over, bloodied hand grasping for where Aerith's sits around his middle. "I think -- I need your services --" What's left of his voice is weak, but it's the calmest he's felt since he realized she was gone.
It's alright. She's home. The rest is manageable.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-20 04:59 am (UTC)"Oh, go fuck yourself!" She shouts back before everything bursts into motion around her.
If asked, Aerith would not have been able to detail how they made it back to the ship, or when exactly she began to cry. At some point, his blood seeped onto her dress as well, something Aerith barely notices between the tears rolling down her face, and his bloody hand taking hold of one of hers.
"Yes, of course," she manages in a wobbly voice, her hand turning to clasp his. Aerith's legs feel shaky as she climbs back to her feet, reaching to help him get up as well.
"Balthier." So many things come to mind to say, and her tongue gets tied up trying to find the right one. She wants to apologize, wants to thank him, kiss him, and promise to never leave his side again if it's what he wants.
She says none of those things, instead opting to frown at the floor while she puts all her weight into keeping him steady.
"Come on. You need to lay down."
no subject
Date: 2023-02-20 08:43 pm (UTC)Then she's shifting him, putting his weight on her and telling him he needs to lie down. She isn't wrong, much as he wants to protest. "You too," he says, and he's not sure if he means she needs to rest or he's telling her to stay with him. He's too busy trying to walk.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-20 11:03 pm (UTC)"I'm alright," she repeats quietly, the guilt she feels for not believing in him roiling inside her.
"We're almost there." She's no muscle-bound fighter and her arms are beginning to ache from the effort, but Aerith's willing to keep this up as long as she has to, to get him back to his bed and patched up.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 03:07 am (UTC)As she leads him toward his room, crew move to get the doors, giving them space other than to tell Aerith if she needs anything anything to use Balthier’s comm or come find them.
He’s only hazily aware of it, trying to stay upright. “Bench,” he rasps as they get inside. When she steers him to it, he all but collapses, trying to get his best off but fumbling. He just wants the blood off before he lays down.
His stomach tightens. There’s a lot of blood.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:29 am (UTC)Far too shaken to be shy about this, she reaches for the laces of his waistcoat, loosening it and carefully pulling it over his head.
"You're going to be fine," she murmurs to him, but also to reassure herself. It is a lot of blood.
After his shirt's lifted away Aerith straightens up, looking him over with a frown.
"Stay here," she retreats to his washroom and returns with a stack of clean towels and washcloths and a basin of water. Aerith sets them down on the bench beside him and kneels so she can wring out a rag and bring it up to begin to clean the wound on his side, tears welling up in her eyes again.
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Date: 2023-02-21 03:44 am (UTC)There’s a feeling of panic when she tells him to stay, some visceral part of him loathe to let her out of his sight, but he doesn’t have the energy of protest, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. He hears her come back, and tries his best to stifle a moan as she starts to clean him. But he gropes around for her arm, squeezing it lightly.
“Always dramatics with pirates.” He smiles weakly, and his whole heart aches seeing the tears in her eyes.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 03:54 am (UTC)"What were you thinking? You could have gotten really hurt," Aerith's voice is heavy and wobbly with emotion. She doesn't dare to meet his eye and risk sobbing outright. Instead, she focuses on cleaning his wound before the need to touch him wins out, and she pulls her arm free of his hold so that her hand can squeeze his tightly.
"Balthier, I–" She squeaks out a sob when she looks at him, rising to her feet as she shakes her head, dismissing the thought as she circles out of sight to tend to the wound between his shoulders.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 04:17 am (UTC)He must have terrified her, being violent like that and now bleeding on her. And she was there for days. The thought still makes his stomach tight.
“I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 04:31 am (UTC)"How can you apologize? I should be the one apologizing." Aerith stops herself long enough to finish the important work of cleaning him up before she goes on. Aware he might turn her out for what she has to tell him.
"I started to believe him, and I'm so sorry. He knew so much about you, so much about us, and then, sitting in that cell day after day I–" Aerith stops herself and comes around to face him, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry. I should have never doubted you, or how I feel about you."
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 04:51 am (UTC)Except he’s still too fresh off the terror of losing her.
“Piaget manipulates, and he does it well.” He can hear the tightness in his voice though.
Then she’s in front of him, filling his vision with her beautiful face, and it’s not the apology that has his heart stuttering.
He’s still dizzy, still slow, but he gingerly reaches out his clean hand to touch her hair. “I should have been clearer about how I felt, so you didn’t have to guess. I was so worried about overstepping, I didn’t think…”
Well didn’t think she’d be kidnapped.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 05:18 am (UTC)Her fingers lace with his before she makes herself open her eyes again, giving him a sad shake of her head.
"I hope you can forgive me for giving up on you. I was scared. Thinking that I would never see you, or the Strahl again broke my heart. I never want to be without either, ever again."
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 09:02 pm (UTC)But his stomach is tight, because he can guess. Piaget knows his wounds, knows how best to twist a knife, and what worse than trying to break a relationship that matters to him, crack foundations and trust beyond repair.
He squeezes the fingers interlaced in his. "I was so scared I'd lost you." He gives her a watery smile, hating how upset she is but speechlessly happy that she wants to be here, to see him.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-21 11:06 pm (UTC)Aerith keeps hold of his hand as she stands back up, releasing it so that she can offer a steadying arm instead while he rises.
"He knew so much about you and us. The places we've gone to together, the gardens, the wedding." She begins only once they're on their way. It's an upsetting conversation to have. Aerith didn't want to start it until he was close enough to his bed that if he decides to kick her out she won't leave him in a precarious position.
"He said I wasn't the first woman you used this con on. That you were just passing the time until I got handed off to him for the big payout. That you wanted me to think you cared about me because it was amusing to you."
no subject
Date: 2023-02-22 02:44 am (UTC)The thought makes him feel oddly ashamed, like he's being a fool for believing it. Couldn't have heard her right.
And as she starts to speak, his heart drops. He turns his face away, however briefly, so she won't see the shame and hurt there. Hasn't she already told him she doesn't really think that? And even if she does -- he knows he isn't going to push her away. That just doesn't make it hurt less that she thought him capable of that.
"You wouldn't be the first to think that," he says, as much for her as for him. "Piaget knows how to make people doubt themselves, see the worst in a situation, and my reputation doesn't help." A reputation Piaget had started. Maybe Aerith deserved to know that.
He grimaces as she helps steer him onto the bed. With her standing, she's taller than he is, and he wants to just put his hands on her hips and lean into her. Instead he balls his hands in his lap, trying to keep his voice even.
"Llogo was his informant; paid him off to tell him everything. I -- Piaget knows I've struggled romantically. We were close for a very long time. He sabotaged my reputation, convinced someone I cared about that I'd done some terrible things, started this reputation of mine, nearly compromised the Strahl. The man you were supposed to marry, they're old friends. I'd wondered, when I decided to intercept you, if the two of them were up to something, and then when nothing came -- I got complacent."
And distracted.
no subject
Date: 2023-02-22 03:24 am (UTC)Llogo. She remembers the man, and the thought of the times she's interacted with him is enough to turn her stomach. It takes focus not to let her rising anger channel itself into wrapping his bandages too tightly, securing them off with a steadying breath before she lets herself speak again.
"I don't care about your reputation," her voice is low but serious, shifting from where she's knelt to meet his eye again. "I wanted him to be wrong, but I was so scared. Scared of where I was going, of how you weren't coming, of what the rest of my life was going to be like without you in it."
As she speaks her voice gets thick with tears and she has to stop herself with another deep breath before she brings her hand up to rest against his injured side carefully, a faint green glow filling the space between them as she starts to heal him.
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Date: 2023-02-22 03:46 am (UTC)He'd hoped his explanation would help, but Aerith looks just as miserable, iterating again why she acted the way she did, her voice cracking and her eyes watery. As she places her hands to begin to heal him, he manages to get a hand on her face, thumb brushing a stray tear. It's terrible intimate, but -- isn't all of this? She already feared him a selfish fool; what else does he have to lose?
"I'm not upset with you," he says very gently, arching slightly as the magic starts to set in, uncomfortable but also taking some of the pain away. "Losing my freedom, being forced back to that life -- it's one of my biggest fears." If she wasn't concentrating so hard on his open wound, he'd pull her into his chest. As it is, his hand stays firm on her cheek, and he swallows before he manages to admit, "I wasn't eating, the first mate had to use a sleep spell on me -- I was so scared you were gone forever. That you were getting sent back to that life and going to be absolutely miserable. The idea that he would have soured your memory of all this, of me -- " It's his turn to get teary.
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Date: 2023-02-22 03:58 am (UTC)"Balthier," Aerith moves again, this time to sit on the bed beside him, her hand covering the one he rests against her cheek as her eyes lock onto his.
"If I went back I would have remembered this, and you, every day." Even if Piaget had turned out to be right, it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. Even if it was traitorous to feel that way she would have treasured their time together, and the little sliver of real life she had been allowed to enjoy. She lets his hand go to touch his cheek instead, sniffling while she searches his face before giving in and leaning forward to kiss him.
"I'll never doubt you again."
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Date: 2023-02-22 08:33 pm (UTC)Her hand slides over his, soft and warm, and he breathes out easier, like he's finally processing she isn't going anywhere, isn't rejecting what he's telling her. Wen she speaks again, it's his turn to get teary. Her hand strays to his cheek, and he sits rigid and frozen for a moment, mind convinced he's going to scare her off if he does the wrong thing.
It doesn't register immediately that she's kissing him, but when it does, he tightens his hold on her cheek, liquid escaping his eyes as he makes a low sound of -- apology, relief, affection.
"Yes you will," he says, but there's no negativity in it. His face stays close to hers, nose pressed into her cheek. "But you're willing to give me a chance, even when things look terrible, and that's more than I could have asked for." He presses his lips to hers again, choking back the sob he feels growing in his chest, and this time when he breaks the kiss he pulls her to him with his good arm, other one resting loosely around her and he just breathes in being here, being together.
"You should go get something hot to eat," he murmurs. "And a bath, if you want it, and then if you're so inclined, you should come rest with me." He can tell the magic is already taking hold, and his eyes are getting heavy.
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Date: 2023-02-22 11:54 pm (UTC)She has no intention of leaving this room until he's up and about again, but Aerith nods along with what Balthier says, one hand moving to the wound between his shoulder blades to heal him while he talks. He doesn't look like he'll be upright for much longer, and she doesn't want him aggravating the wound anymore than it is.
By the time he drifts off, she's spent her power and is dead on her feet. He's not mended all the way, but in another day or so, as long as he allows her to be as diligent as she intends to be, Aerith feels good about the shape he'll be in.
With all the energy she's got left, Aerith gets a chair across the room and sets it by his bedside without making too much noise, asleep before she's fully sat down.
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Date: 2023-02-23 01:16 am (UTC)When he rouses, he has no idea how much time it's been, and for a panicked moment all he can think is that he shouldn't be sleeping; Aerith's out there getting farther from them every minute he wastes. "Aerith," he rasps, throat dry.
Except his back is sore and restricted, and in another moment and his eyes fall on her, and the memory of what happened comes groggily seeping back in.
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Date: 2023-02-23 01:38 am (UTC)"Drink this and go back to sleep," she murmurs gently. "I can heal you a little more now, it'll help you rest comfortably."
Her power has returned, but not as much as she would like, her weariness evident in her face, even the limp way her hair hangs around it a reflection of how tired and on edge she is.
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Date: 2023-02-23 02:11 am (UTC)"You look awful," he says. "No more healing until you've slept. I'm well on my way." To prove it, he rolls his injured shoulder. And then he frowns. "You didn't eat, did you?"
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Date: 2023-02-23 02:27 am (UTC)"I'll eat soon. I'm not very hungry. Are you? Should I send for soup?"
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Date: 2023-02-23 02:50 am (UTC)"Yes, for two," he says, catching the hand in his hair and tugging it down, just enough to turn and kiss her palm. "I'm going to use the restroom, and then you can fret over me as much as you like, and I even promise to listen." He gives her a tired smile. "It's been a long time since anyone tended me."
It's not as hard to get up as he expected; she really is a gifted healer. And when he returns, something in his chest catches at seeing her sitting on his bed, like he can't quite believe that any of this is real.
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