The Picture Perfect Heist

Disclaimer: All known and recognisable characters, places, and names property of Square Enix. I am just playing with them for a little while.

A/N: This is a continuation of my little story, 'The Picture Perfect Theft' put up partly due to the immensely positive response to that story and partly because I enjoy writing this pairing so much. If you have not read the first story, don't worry it's not essential, and if you have then welcome back.

One foot before the other and then again the same; sometimes I wonder who I am these days. I think that had I known then what I know now I would ne'er have put one foot before the other.

Penelo did not like Balfonheim.

She did not like the fish smell and the steely gazes of the dockhands and seamen that watched her with the look of hungry Lobo's in their eyes. In the four years since she had last spent more than a few hours in the Port she had grown but it had not.

The lecherous eyes of the denizens of this foul-smelling and lascivious place tried to drag her back through time to once more be the timid, uncertain girl of seventeen she used to be.

At twenty-one and a woman now, Penelo refused to give into the ripple of nervousness that threatened to hunch her shoulders inward and instead walked with head high and eyes straight ahead, never did her eyes seek refuge on the filthy ground.

The last three years since the Lemures trouble had been good to her, better than the girl from Low Town could ever have imagined, and she now walked with her blonde hair bound up atop of her head under delicate silver netting with a neat dark crimson hat of felt perched at rakish angle atop. She wore a long, body-clinging skirt of scarlet silk in the Archadian fashion and cut a vibrant swathe through the grey, forlorn drabness of the port.

There was very little left of that young, innocent, and afraid girl she had been, in the beautifully coiffed young woman who made her way, without hesitation, towards the Manse at the end of Saccio Lane.

Penelo had mixed feelings about approaching the pile of brick and masonry that sat atop the edge of the cliff with a certain down at heel dignity and refinement, faced on three sides by the roiling gun metal grey Naldoa Ocean.

Memories of four years ago; Reddas, Ashe, Basch and the others, filled her head with a potent mix of nostalgia and wistfulness. Penelo was realistic enough to recognise that only a fool would want to be back in that period of uncertainty and fear, but at the same time, she was old enough and knowledgeable enough now to look back on her 'youth' with a certain soft longing.

Of course thinking about ghosts and memories was much easier than facing what she had to do in the present. Or more accurately, who she had to deal with in the present.

Looking up at the cracked white stucco walls of the Manse, the wide windows with curtains drawn and the faint sound of piano music seeping from a upstairs window left ajar, Penelo was finally transported back to that nervous girl with sweaty palms that she had been all those years ago.

It had been a year and a half since she had spoken to, or laid eyes on, Balthier.

So much had happened since then, she and Vaan had agreed to go their separate ways (though in fact rarely a month went by that she and Vaan did not see each other – and she wrote to him almost weekly) and in that time, accepting the gracious invitation of Lord Larsa himself, Penelo had settled in Archades.

For a whole year Penelo had lived in Nilbasse, in a small but comfortable apartment in the theatre district, and almost every night she had danced, or performed speaking roles, in any number of dramatic productions (she was often the main attraction – the 'Galbana heroine' the billboards called her).

Penelo, the once shy shop-girl and orphan of Rabanastre, had inspired in the very heart of the Empire that had robbed her of her family, rapturous applause, standing ovations and torrents of flowers strewn across almost every stage in Archades from Nilbasse to Tsenoble to the Imperial Palace itself. Poets wrote sonnets inspired by her blue eyes and tender smile, but Penelo, who remained gracious and generous with those who took the time to be interested in such as she, nevertheless remained a little apart from it all.

Precisely seven of the greatest and richest men in Archades, including two senators and four judges, had offered her ridiculous amounts of Gil, or tokens of other sort, if she would only condescend to be their lover and mistress.

Penelo had been scandalised, astonished, and finally merely bemused by all this and eventually had decided that she did not like having over-wrought Archadian gentry serenading her from the streets in front of all the ardents and street-ears; it had come high time for her to leave.

Over-wrought Archadians………..it was funny how no matter how things changed there were always reminders of what had passed.

Girding her metaphorical loins Penelo started up the broken paved path to the front doors of the manse. She pulled the velvet tasselled bell pull at the door to alert any inside to her presence and waited.

For the longest moment she thought that no one would answer; though the faint sound of music from the upstairs window suggested that someone at least lurked within. It would not have surprised her in the least if the current master of the manse was simply ignoring her.

Therefore it was almost more surprising when the door opened than it would have been had it not. In an eye blink Penelo found herself face to face with Elza (who to her consternation looked like she had just dragged herself out of bed – dressed as she was in nothing more than an almost sheer bed sheet).

'Who're yer an' what's yer business 'ere?'

The woman demanded not seeming too concerned that the sheet was drooping around her ample bosom. Penelo found herself not certain where to look, as a treacherous little voice in her head wondered what a nearly naked Elza was doing opening the door for Balthier in the first place.

'Elza, it's me, Penelo. Can I come in?'

Elza, who was a beautiful woman in the way that the Bandercouerls out on the Steppes were beautiful, a force of nature instead of a studied, practiced beauty, blinked bloodshot eyes at her in surprise.

'Bugger me, ain't yer lookin' all fancified.' Elza stuck her head out of the doorway and peered about suspiciously, ''Ere, where's Vaan?'

Penelo had to remind herself that some people did not know that she was no longer Vaan's sky pirate partner (except on such times when Vaan managed to successfully beg her to help in one adventure or another). 'He's in Rozzaria, I think.'

Elza turned her bleary, but shrewd eyes on Penelo once more and a slight smirk curled her full mouth, ''S'pose you 'ought come in then.'

She stepped away from the doorway and Penelo, taking a moment to wonder if she really wanted to come in after all, slipped in through the threshold. 'Thank you.'

Once the door was closed and the noises of the port were muffled in stale silence Elza finally tugged up the blanket more securely around her voluptuous figure and cocked a hip. ''E said it would likely be yer that ol' 'igh an' mighty Larsa Solidor sent a callin'.'

Penelo, who had been looking about her at the ground floor foyer of the manse, which looked remarkably like it had in Reddas' day, except for a lingering odour of cigar smoke and wine, turned back to Elza sharply.

'I came because I'm a friend to both Lord Larsa and Balthier. I'm not taking sides, and all I'm here to do is hear Balthier's side of the story and then tell Larsa only what Balthier says and nothing more.'

Elza just shrugged, unconcerned. 'E's already near come t'blows wit' Judge Magister Gabranth, 'im that look awful like that other chap you palled around wit'. An' 'e's 'ad missives from that little missy Queen of Dalmasca too.' The smirk grew, 'It din't move 'im none.'

Penelo knew that Balthier had already managed to infuriate all his former allies, to the point where Vaan had told her that most people thought Balthier had lost his mind. This knowledge did nothing to make her task any easier as Elza rather mockingly curtseyed to her using the blanket and gestured with one hand to the wide staircase.

'Yer'll find 'im in t'master bedroom.' Again Elza smirked, ''E's in a right mardy mood, though, los' a small fortune at t'cards las' night.' Elza laughed purring contemptuously, 'cause t'weren't 'is Gil, so it ain't t'at bad.'

Penelo, who understood the implication in Elza's words decided not to comment. Smiling tightly to Elza and steeling herself for whatever she might find after a year and half with no contact at all, she took the stairs slowly to the second floor.

If all things have their place in time, where is mine?

Passing the corridor where her old room had been, Penelo almost tried the door to see what had become of that old easel and the outlined sketch for a painting never completed; she felt almost certain that it would still be there and that the room would be exactly as she had left it.

It was for that reason that she passed the door without so much as brushing the brass door handle with her fingers. The door at the end of the corridor, the master bedroom, loomed up before her like the inevitable spectre of death and Penelo firmly put her panicky musings in order.

No matter what, when push came to shove, Balthier was just a man, no better and no worse than any other.

Coming to an abrupt stop in front of the walnut wood door at the end of the pale cream and burnished gold filigree wall-papered corridor, Penelo dearly wished she could believe that. Alas the truth was so much more complicated than that.

Without knocking (because she didn't want to give him the opportunity of diving out of a window to avoid her) she turned the door handle and entered the room.

'Oh!'

Her cheeks flamed and once again it was an ignorant, innocent, unaware seventeen year old standing in the adult Penelo's fine Archadian heels and silks.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, a narrow band of burgundy twisted bed sheet the only thing protecting his modesty, sat a sleep dishevelled man with broad shoulders and a whippet lean waist. The man had one elbow resting on the bed side table whereon sat a small bowl of water next to a shaving brush and shaving soap tub, and in his hand he held a mother-of-pearl inlaid razor with nonchalant absence of purpose.

'Do you mind; I believe it is still customary manners for a woman to knock before entering a gentleman's bedroom, hmm?'

Sardonic (slightly reddened) heavy-lidded dark eyes regarded her coolly and without any discernable warmth and it really was, once again, as though time stood on its head and the sand in the hour glass ran backwards.

Penelo, hands curling into fists in her embarrassment, found herself choking down something akin to vehement hatred for the man before her even as her stomach flip-flopped like a landed fish at the sight of him.

Nearly two years and not a thing had changed; he could still reduce her to nothing more than a helpless tongue-tied little girl in the space of seconds.

Rallying as best as she could Penelo stared boldly back into those bedroom eyes filled with cynical amusement and secrets she had no wish to know, 'Hello Balthier; I think you know why I'm here?'

To her consternation a slow, snake-like smile curved over his generous closed-lipped mouth.

'Do you now?' he purred and then turned away, still smiling obscurely to himself, and opened the twist lid on his container of shaving soap. Dipping the bristles of his shaving brush into the bowl of water he then used the brush to rub the soap into lather.

Penelo, standing in the doorway, felt exceedingly foolish standing there, clenched fisted, watching him shave. The only thing that kept her from turning tail and leaving was the knowledge that that was exactly what he wanted her to do.

'Lord Larsa Solidor has asked me to come and speak with you, as we know each other, and I'm not an employee of the Empire. He hopes to end this,' she recalled Larsa's exact phraseology, 'this unfortunate misunderstanding before things get any more out of hand.'

Balthier, lower half of his face covered in a thick, creamy white lather, should have looked ridiculous as he turned to her with one ironically raised eyebrow, that he managed not to, was a source of some irritation to Penelo.

'Oh, is that so?' he murmured deep voice pleasant and almost musical as he welded the razor in smooth strokes under his upraised chin.

'Yes, it is so.' Penelo gritted out between her teeth. She was trapped between wanting to slit the arrogant pirate's throat with the blade or take the razor and start shaving him herself.

Eighteen months and nothing had changed. She was still in love with him and he still didn't give a damn one way or the other.

Balthier had withdrawn a hand mirror from somewhere on the table top and was now studying it intently as he worked on shaving his cheeks without ruining the line of his sideburn.

'Well, how nice for you both.' he murmured, 'Little Lord Larsa gains an unpaid envoy and our little actress dips her toe into politics. I am almost saddened that you have made a wasted journey.'

'What do you mean?' Penelo asked through her teeth. She knew that he was setting her up for some elaborate put-down, or grand joke at her and Larsa's expense, but as she had promised both Larsa and Ashe, she had no choice but to play along.

Balthier smiled, 'You said your mission was to address an 'unfortunate misunderstanding'? Well I am not aware that such a misunderstanding exists between myself and Archadia's diminutive Emperor, thus I cannot imagine our discussion will be very fruitful.'

He had finished one side of his face and now turned from her to do his other cheek. Penelo noticed, now she was free to look at him without being skewered by those dark, dark, eyes of his, that he was now sporting a new scar. A jagged sword stroke ran parallel from his sternum to his right hip.

The scar was fresh, angry, and red, and Penelo could not drag her gaze away from it; it was evidence of just how far things had gone towards enmity between Balthier and just about everyone who had once called him friend. That wound was Basch – or rather Judge Magister Gabranth's - handiwork.

'Balthier you hi-jacked an Imperial air-galleon; you stole one million Gil of Archadian currency and the damage you did to the ship caused it to crash land in the middle of the Westersand. How could you do that?'

Balthier had finished his shave and was dabbing at his face with a hand towel that had been folded over the table top alongside the porcelain bowl of water.

'Quite easily, actually; the galleon's security measures were appalling lax and the vessel was barely flight worthy; I'm amazed the damn thing stayed in the air at all. It was barely worth blowing out the aft engines while taking my leave of the thing.'

Penelo wanted to turn away as he flashed her a quick smile, the briefest flash of white teeth in a wolfish and entirely unrepentant grin, designed to outrage her. He could play her like a fiddle and always had, and she hated that she still, almost unconsciously, responded to him.

'I just want to know why you did it; why you've sided with the sky pirates against Dalmasca, Rozzaria, and Archadia. Why you've thrown in your lot with people you despise against people who you've fought beside; against your friends.'

The smile, or any trace of amusement was gone from his face as if it had never been, his dark eyes bored into her from deep inside his head.

'I have no friends.'

Penelo shook her head, hard enough that a twisted gold ringlet of her hair came free of the hairnet, 'That's rubbish and you know it. It's not even an excuse.'

Balthier contrived to smirk again and, fastening the wine red sheets about his hips, he stood up with a lazy stretch. 'You seem very certain of what I know, what I don't know, and what my motivations are, all of a sudden.'

He told her mildly as, the ends of the bed sheet trailing around his legs and his hair ruffled and standing up in peaks and tufts like the downy fluff of Chocobo chicks, Balthier walked directly towards her.

'Perhaps you should have saved yourself this journey and simply told Lord Larsa what I think, feel, and intend to do, based upon your obviously superior intuitive senses, hmm?'

In less time than it took to tell Penelo was pressed against the wall and Balthier was casually encroaching upon her personal space, looking disarmingly, almost charmingly, bedraggled in his just woken up splendour.

'Before this little reunion devolves into acrimoniousness, as I've no doubt it will, I suppose I should take the time to commend you on your recent theatrical successes. I saw you in the Starsailor's Daughter; you have a talent well worth the extortionate door charge, my dear.'

Penelo blinked, for a moment too startled by his admission to recognise his old habit of abruptly changing subjects in order to throw off his opponent's equilibrium.

'The Starsailor's Daughter? That was my last show; you must have been in Archades only months ago.'

Balthier braced one forearm on either side of the wall by her head and the sudden intimacy between them brought back bittersweet memories of that short time almost three years ago when she had cheerfully given him her virginity and he had, for a short time, indulged her young girl's crush until, with the inevitability of the changing seasons, he had grown bored with her.

Balthier sighed, and for a moment she wondered if he was as tired of these word games and misdirection's as she was.

'Yes, I know. It's ironic, isn't it? I am the most wanted man in Archadia, if not all Ivalice now. The pirate who spurned the friendship of the Empire for the paltry price of one million Gil, and yet I can attend music hall performances in the Capital without anyone noticing; it is quite pitiful really.'

Penelo knew that her duty to Larsa demanded she pick up and chase down that slight thread of regret tingeing Balthier's words, but she found herself more interested in something else entirely.

'Why did you come to see my performance; I didn't think musical theatre would appeal to you.'

To her surprise Balthier flashed her that sudden, lightening bolt, grin once more as he pushed away from the wall and sidestepped towards the open doorway.

'Oh, who knows? Perhaps I was in the mood for a little light entertainment, or perhaps I was merely being provocative by baiting the Empire and my dear friend Magister Gabranth?'

He shrugged stopping in the threshold of the doorway and looking over his shoulder at her, 'Perhaps, my dear, I even missed you.'

Without waiting for Penelo to do more than blink in surprise at this off-hand almost question, he slipped away from her once more and into the hallway. His voice, lyrically mocking and laughing at her and the world with every syllable, floated back to her like a goodbye kiss.

'And you may tell Larsa, my dearest darling Penelo, that I have no interest in spending mealy mouthed words and platitudes with him and what's more, I am keeping every coin of his million Gil.'

Penelo, leaning against the wall, heart pounding and mouth dry after only a half-hour in his company once again, closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten.

Seething inside with a mixture of fury that Balthier could be so callous, so indifferent, in regards to both his crimes and his betrayals, but also almost singing with excitement, a tingling thrill she felt through the roots of her hair to the toes on her feet.

One and a half years absence and here she was again, heart in her throat and set aflame by one dark eyed Archadian's inexplicable, suavely insane, proximity.

Three years ago, aboard Vaan's airship, Penelo had wrongly ascribed herself the victor in a tug of war (and hearts) between herself and Balthier. She had learned from her mistakes that first time, and now, fate had given her a second chance.

She had stolen her way into his affections once, if only for a few short months, and now here she was again, armed with hindsight, and ready to attempt another theft, far more audacious than any the sky pirate would dare.

Larsa had given her one month to locate the stolen Million Gil; therefore Penelo had one month to bring Balthier to heel and secure his heart once and for all.