Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the game. Please don't sue me.

Author's note: This just kinda came to me while I was playing the game, so we'll see where it goes. Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Don't worry, there are more chapters to come. Sorry if there is any OOC-ness. I tried to remain true to their personalities while throwing my own twist to it, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

She would never admit it, but she was tired. Even her eyes hurt. Truth be told, it unsettled her a little - Viera in the Wood never experienced exhaustion. Their way of life was always so deliberate and relaxing, they never suffered from fatigue. She supposed it had something to do with the Wood as well; like any good mother she was always nurturing and lending them her slowly regenerative qualities. But she had given all of that up a long time ago, and for what? For exhaustion.

"Fran? Are you feeling alright?"

The light sound of Penelo's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she spared a glance at the young girl. Concern laced her young features and lent a look of age to her face that Fran did not like. She was much too young to be so ... mature. At least, for a Hume anyway.

"I'm fine," She answered automatically, "Just thinking."

She became aware then of the rest of their rag tag party, all situated in the cabin of the Strahl as they were preparing to head back to Rabanastre. Supplies and provisions were needed before they started their long trek through the Pharos.

"Our course is set," Balthier said then, "Everybody sit back and hold on to something."

With his excellent piloting skills he launched the airship and navigated them through the air. The day was beautiful, the sky unmarred by even a cloud. Her job thus being made simpler, Fran took a moment to focus her breathing and relax her too tense muscles. She had lost track of how long and how far their journey had taken them - it seemed only a distant dream now that they had once visited her lost home. And what a bittersweet visit it had been. Seeing Jote, rescuing Mjrn, and discovering that she really was deaf to the harmonious voice of her mother Wood. What a hard time she had had in coming to terms with that blow. She had known it would be so, had been expecting the silence, but it still filled her with a great sense of dismay when she had finally acknowledged it. If she had been younger, less wise and resigned perhaps, she would have held out the hope that one day she could hear the voice again - but she was not. She had known, had known since the day she made her choice that she had forsaken forever a life in the Wood, among her people.

"Fran, could you come with me please?" Balthier addressed her, "I'm going to need your help with something."

Without a word she rose from her chair and followed him out of the cabin, unaware of the worried looks she was getting from her friends.

Once they were a fair distance from the cabin doors, Balthier halted and turned to face her. Without missing a beat he took one of her agile hands in his and put the back of his other hand to her forehead. Almost of its own accord, her eyebrow arched as she observed his ministrations.

"Whatever are you doing?" She asked in that calm, even voice of hers

"Trying to discern what it is that ails you," He replied just as calmly

"Ails me? There is nothing that ails me," She informed him, and gently pulled her hand from his

She found the contact between them disconcerting, a fact that unsettled her. His nearness or touch had never before had a negative effect on her or emotional state, so why should it now?

But Balthier was a quick man, and he grabbed her long fingers before they had slipped completely out of his hands.

"I've worked with you long enough and spent enough time with you to know when something ails you, Fran," He told her firmly but gently

She merely looked at him for a few long moments, her ruby eyes scanning his face for any sign that his resolve on this matter might give. But there was none, and, allowing a rare moment to pass where her stoicness faltered, she let out a long and resigned sigh.

Balthier's eyes never left her. For the first time in their long partnership, Fran actually seemed ... worn. Even her long, exotic ears seemed to droop a little, and he felt the first vestiges of fear. Was she ill? He had never in his life seen a Viera tired, or ill, or standing anything other than tall and proud. But here was Fran, his Fran, with her ears drooping just the slightest bit and her posture not quite as straight as usual.

"Viera do not get tired," She said very softly in her magical lilt

"Viera don't usually go traipsing across all of Ivalice fighting demons either, now do they?" He replied just as softly

She seemed to be leaning into him, as if she were unable or unwilling to bear her weight alone any longer. He took a step toward her and pulled her closer to him, supporting more of her weight as he did so. He was racking his brain but could think of nothing that might be making her ill.

Memories accosted her, rolling through her mind like thunder on an open plain. The fight she had had with Jote over her decision to leave the Wood, Mjrn's tears at losing her companionship, meeting Balthier on accident that fateful day in Balfonheim ... so many memories she could almost entertain the thought that her head might explode. A growing sense of disquiet was blossoming in her chest, the weight of it beginning to hinder her breathing. It felt as if the blood were leaving her legs, as if she were being drained. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was dismayed to find herself literally collapsing into Balthier's arms, her legs no longer steady enough to hold her upright.

"Fran," Balthier's voice penetrated her thoughts, "Fran what is it?"

She was crumbling into his arms and she had begun to tremble like a leaf in the wind.

Out of nowhere, the Strahl lurched beneath his feet, nearly throwing him to the floor. The movement caught Fran totally off guard and sent her tumbling fully into his arms, and he was barely able to keep his feet under him.

"Balthier, you should get up here, quick!" Came Ashe's worried voice over the speaker

"Now what," He muttered to himself, "Fran, can you stand?"

There was no answer.

"Fran?"

He glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms and swore loudly.