A response to Tango-chan's (ElTangoDeRoxanne) story Starstruck Bromance, chapter 3, where her Lightning, an Eternal who was in love with a mortal Balthier in her So Starstruck Series, met Balthier of the World Traveler Series. This is the same story, just told from Bal's point of view. So check it out, and read her So Starstruck Series!

Author's Note: This was originally part of my story "The World Traveller," but when we made this into a full fledged series (we even have a finale planned!) I decided to take the chapters of this story and make it a whole new one. If you are just reading this story for grins, this is a crossover of two crossovers, The World Traveller Series, which is the life of the Sky Pirate Balthier starting with a Pirates of the Caribbean crossover (When Pirate and Pirate Meet) and ElTangoDeRoxanne's story Starstruck Bromance, a Final Fantasy XII and XIII crossover. Visit the Starstruck Series starting with So Starstruck (lots of Starstrucks!) to get that end of the story.

I don't own anything, at all, recognizable from any story.

Balthier wiped some oil from his face with the back of his hand, but only managed to smear it across his cheek. The Moogle lying next to him under the Strahl's engine giggled.

"Master Balthier, you look like a tribal warrior armed with a screwdriver, kupo."

The sky pirate laughed, grabbing the furry creature and liberally wiping oil over its face, too. "Now we are in this tribe together, eh, Leveret?" he asked jokingly. Leveret giggled again, scrubbing his face with white, oil stained paws. He hardly minded his master's cold touch, insulated from it by layers of mechanic's clothes and thick fur.

"Balthier, are you working hard, or hardly working?" Fran called as she knelt from her tall height in order to see under the engine block. Humor danced in her eyes at the sight of two, oil-blacked faces, one furry and one furless, staring back at her. "The new engine and sky stone design will not install itself, you know, and neither will the glossair rings get installed if I do not have help."

"Kupo! Are you ready for your test trip?" Leveret asked excitedly. "Shall we see if we have given the powers of teleportation to an airship?"

"A skystone made from a piece of Gate Crystal, and glossair rings made from artificial waystones… it sounds a little frightening, frankly." Balthier said, putting the last screw in and hauling himself out from under the engine. Fran handed him a handkerchief, which he used to clean his hands and face.

"Not to mention the chance for you to be pulled from this world is quite high." Fran said dryly. Balthier grimaced— if he was pulled away, he did not look forward to the return lecture. "I will go install the rings with Leveret. You shall run the tests on the engine," she instructed. Balthier gave her a mock salute before climbing the stairs into the ship and entering the cockpit. Through the windows, he could see Fran and Leveret maneuvering the new rings into position with the help of a large mechanical harness dangling from the ceiling. Turning back to the control panel in front of him, he flicked glossair ring switch off, and turned the engine on. Readings immediately filled the screen in front of him, all registering stable as he ran the power higher and higher. ALL POWER OUTPUTS STABLE, the monitor flashed. Balthier turned the engine back off, sitting back in his seat and allowing a contented sigh to escape from his lips.

"Wake up, Balthier. Wouldn't want to miss the first airship teleportation in history," Vaan said. Balthier opened his eyes to look at the hallucination. Vaan had been dead for roughly three centuries, yet his ghost still haunted Ivalice. Fran said nothing was there, it was all in his head, but what did she know? She always chased the ghosts away, of course she'd never see them.

"It might end in a fiery crash," Balthier pointed out. Vaan snorted, propping his feet up on the dashboard.

"Or it might end in a teleportation. Either way, you won't die, 'cuz of your complication. You've gotten really pessimistic in your old age," he said.

"Disintegration is the same as death. If this medallion gets broken, even if Fran lives, my soul will pass on anyway."

"What if I broke it in half? Would that break your soul into two halves, and then there would be two Balthiers running around?" Vaan leaned forward, and Balthier pressed a protective hand over the medallion in his chest.

"You shan't touch it," he growled, though there was no anger in his words.

Long brown fingers cupped his face, and Fran's palms burned his skin with living heat. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, and when he opened them, Vaan was gone.

"It is time," Fran whispered, taking her place next to him in the co-pilot's chair. Leveret hovered next to her ear, at last plopping down on her head.

"You make it sound as if we were going to our deaths, not as if we were taking a quick jaunt to Archades." Balthier smiled wryly.

"You never know in the vocation of science!" Leveret chirped. "Fire away, kupo!" Like a moth, the Strahl lifted into the sky.

Balthier tuned the teleportation mechanism to the Gate Crystal in Archades, watching the oscillations slowly match on the newly installed Mist scope. When the light on the jump button turned green, he pressed it. At that moment, all hell broke loose.

Smoke erupted into the corridor with an ear-shattering bang. "Check the engine!" Fran shouted to Balthier. "Leveret, co-pilot for me."

"Kupo-kupo-kupo-po!" Leveret squeaked, grabbing the secondary control stick as the Viera lunged across to the first. Balthier staggered down the hall into the engine room, ducking low to avoid the oily black smoke belching out of the machine.

The engine was in flames. A small, blue crystal rolled out from underneath, clinking against Balthier's boot. He picked it up, recognizing the small stone instantly: the source of all his problems.

"Nethicite…" he breathed. "Sabotage!"

Balthier burst into the cockpit, the stone clutched in his hand. "Fran, re-stabilize power, we've been…" the words died in his throat. The cockpit was empty, and even Leveret was gone. Cursing, Balthier grabbed the control stick, attempting to regain control of the ship, but it had gone into a corkscrew, plummeting toward the forest below.

Forest?

Before he could contemplate the strange fact that somehow, there was a densely wooded forest somewhere between Balfonheim and Archades, the Strahl crashed into the ground. Metal twisted and shrapnel flew into the air. A metal panel spun by his head, gouging a long gash across Balthier's forehead as it flew by. Cold blood ran down his face, dripping from his chin. When the rumbling and shaking stopped, he got to his feet, woozily making his way to the still burning engine room, and cast Water onto the fire. Balthier staggered to the airlock, somehow opened the door, and stared out at the wood surrounding him. He attempted to take a step down, but weak with blood-loss, he missed the first step and staggered, clutching the rail like a lifeline. His head pounded, and he pressed a hand to his bleeding forehead.

As soon as he reached the ground, he lost his footing, his foot slipping in the mud thrown up from the airship crash. Balthier closed his eyes, expecting to hit the ground face first, but was pleasantly surprised when someone caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. Someone was leaning over him, whispering his name, stroking fingers that were almost soothing in the fact that they were not overly warm against his cheek. He cracked open an eye, studying the woman holding him.

She had blonde hair and silvery blue eyes, and her hair was dripping cold water onto his face. The woman was clutching him convulsively, staring into his face with desperate hope and faint joy chasing across her expression. She certainly was acting as if she were familiar with him. Balthier attempted to gather his thoughts, which felt as if they were spilling out of the hole gouged in his head. When the woman looked away, up at the Strahl, Balthier quickly pushed her from him.

"Fran," he tried to stand, but coughed. Too much smoke inhalation… "I need to find her…" he managed to say, while his thin frame was wracked by another coughing fit. The woman grabbed his arm, scowling.

"Balthier, sit still!" she commanded, and he tensed, eyeing her warily as she grabbed his arm firmly. "Just stay put, please. Let me heal you, okay?" She knew his name. All right, so perhaps his reputation preceded him, but this woman was acting as if she more than just knew his name.

"You know me?" Balthier asked, swallowing his uncertainty. His tattered voice came out raspy and thin, and he nearly strangled himself trying to hold down another painful cough. When he finally managed to look into her piercing blue eyes, he was startled to see concern. Oh dear, perhaps she knew him quite well if she was worried. Unfortunately, he had no idea who she was!

"Know you? Of course I know who you are, Balthier. It's me—Lightning," the woman, who he now knew as Lightning, tightened her grip when he tried to pull away from her. Panic thrilled through his veins as she continued. "Sure, I look slightly different than before, being blonde and slightly paler, but I'm still me." Balthier was utterly certain he had never seen this woman before. He had to admit there was a certain cold beauty to her— had to admit that with a face like that, he would have remembered.

"I can't recall ever knowing someone with that name," he said at last. The woman's grip loosened, and he slipped out of her grasp easily, stretching. Her eyes flickered, and he could almost feel her desperation. Balthier gingerly touched a hand to his forehead, which had healed while he was attempting to disentangle himself from this exceedingly strange girl.

"You must have hit your head in the crash, Balthier," she faltered. She certainly liked to say his name, didn't she? Was she constantly trying to remind him she knew him, and supposedly he knew her? Well, whatever she was doing, it was only serving to make him annoyed. What was her name again? It was some sort of meteorological condition… Snow? Ice? Something with storms… Tornado? No, he was kidding himself now.

"Listen, Thunder," he finally snapped, choosing the closest thing he could remember her name being. Behind him, Vaan and Penelo's ghosts sniggered. He forced himself to ignore their chiming laughs. "Do not think you can fool me with pretty words. A trick to finally end me after all this time, is that it? Don't play me for a fool, girl, or you'll end up making one of yourself."

Thunder (or was it Lightning?) bit her lip, her expression one of a girl who'd just been slapped. He turned away from her hurt face, opting to reenter the Strahl and perhaps find out if Fran had followed him on his newest venture. At first, Lightning followed him into the ship, but sometime in the interim, he heard her go back outside when he paid her no heed.

"Fran?" he called, poking about here and there but not finding his partner anywhere. "Alright, you've got me. Where is she?" Balthier scowled at Lightning, who was waiting patiently outside. At his question, she frowned in confusion.

"Balthier, Fran's been dead for years. Everyone's gone. Even—even you. You're not supposed to be here," she said quietly, as if divulging a secret.

Balthier wanted to laugh madly, and clenched his hands together instead, feeling the creases in his leather gloves biting into his skin. Still alive, still can feel, still breathing, still talking, still walking, still hungry—

"That's impossible. If Fran was dead, I would also die on the spot. I'm still here, so she's alive as well. You're talking madness, Thunder." He purposefully used the wrong name that time. Lightning averted her eyes.

"It's Lightning," was all she said.

"Well, Lightning," he narrowed his eyes shrewdly, calculatingly. "I know this is Ivalice. The scent hasn't changed enough that I can't recognize home, but there's something… off. What year is this, and where are we?" Lightning did not answer right away, clenching and unclenching her hands around the hilt of her Ragnarok blade.

"It's the year two-thousand, Old Valendian," she licked her lips with a dry tongue. "This is what remains of your old home, Balthier. This is Archadia." Lightning quickly looked away, somewhere to the right. There was someone there, muttering, muttering about Gil and time.

The teleportation… worked after all… Balthier sank to his knees very slowly, reality and the strain of time travel catching up with him, and darkness swirled up to greet him like an old friend.

Balthier woke up in his own bed, feeling as if he had just been bathing in Dark magick. He felt healthier, at least. Lightning was standing next to his chest of drawers, her arms folded over her chest and her face tight, eyes burning with something he did not like seeing. As soon as their gazes met, she dropped hers to the floor, as if afraid to meet his eyes. A quick glance in his mirror confirmed that his eyes were not the silver color brought on by the Hunger, but their usual woody brown.

"If you're going to stare at an old man, you should at least give him some warning." Balthier said lightly, propping himself up on his elbows. "And perhaps do that if you're going to spring other surprising news on me."

"Old man?" she whispered. Ah-ha, perhaps this would get rid of her, then, and leave him in peace!

"I'm older than I look. Thank our dearest gods for that." He could not stop the biting tone his voice took on when mentioning the gods.

"How old are you, then?"

"Three-hundred-forty-seven years, and still counting. I don't intend on being shuffled from the mortal coil—not ever." Balthier said with a cruel smirk, masking his disappointment of the fact that Lightning, while perhaps a little surprised, looked mostly bored. However, her scent changed subtly, such that he almost missed it, and her fingers tightened ever so slightly about her arms. For a moment, he could almost imagine how she would look if he were to split open her perfect, white skin.

"That medallion: it's what keeps you alive, isn't it?" she asked, nodding toward the glint of gold in his chest. Almost out of habit, he shifted on the bed so that the cloth of his shirt obscured the gleam.

"You're brighter than I expected. This trinket keeps my life from ending, but Fran holds me in place on the mortal plane. If it was not for her generosity, I would be little more than a moldering corpse in the ground by now."

"If you are three-hundred-fifty, that would make Fran roughly one-hundred years older than you. Viera die before reaching that age— how can she still be alive?"

His mind scrambled for a possible explanation of how she knew Fran.

"It's a long story…" he said, trying to buy time. Was she a bounty hunter after his head? Interrogating him for the secret to immortality before taking his head? Should he run? Or should he… remove her? He told the story with light hearted nonchalance, while panic screamed behind his eyes.

"Eternity is not meant for humans," Lightning interrupted his thoughts. She spoke with the air of someone with long, tiring experience.

"What makes you think I'm human?" he retorted, tossing her another sharp-toothed smirk. She closed her eyes and did not answer. This girl had no sense of how to appreciate a story. "You know me, you say, or perhaps someone like me. I've never met you, though I've met a few women who rival that glare of yours," he said gently, trying a different angle.

"Ashe?" she said simply.

"She's one of them," he replied, drumming a fine military tattoo on his chin with his fingers. She knew the Princess, who has passed… it's been a thousand years… a devilish smirk crawled its way across his face again, unbidden. "You're more than you appear to be too, hm, Thunder?"

His question set her off-kilter. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said icily. Balthier tapped his nose knowingly.

"You've got the scent of the gods upon you. How did you happen to acquire immortality? You don't have the look of a thief, but that greatsword speaks of little innocence either. And don't lie, my dear. You're a dreadful liar," he purred.

"I died when I was twenty-three, killed by the Trickster Lindzei. You—I mean, the Balthier I knew made a deal with the goddess Etro and brought me back to life. Only…" she trailed off, as if the subject pained her.

"He died not long after?" he said what she could not, not particularly perturbed by the death of his other self.

"Yes. You weren't even fifty…"

"So that would make you an undead, I suppose. We've a lot in common after all, Lightning," he said, this time giving her a genuine smile.

"Call me Light." Still, she refused to look at him.

It was a shame she could not see his smile.

Lightning sat on a stool nearby as Balthier repaired the Strahl, seemingly content simply to watch him work. She was not a woman of particularly many words, but she enjoyed talking to him immensely, as if saying his name and having him respond to it was the greatest joy in her life. He was not sorry to admit that she was starting to grow on him; not many other people understood the pain of day to day living as an undead. Oh, the irony. Her mentor, Cidolfus, was a kind, silly old man, but he cared for her very well, and they shared a strong spiritual bond. Watching them spar one night, Balthier was surprised by how easily the old man over powered the immortal girl, teasing her of her ways with the sword. Balthier himself fared only a little better, in the end winning only because of the long endurance granted by death.

"If you were not a phoenix… like my dear phoenix… I would have cut you down." Cidolfus puffed, collapsing onto a log. Balthier exhaled deeply, glancing over and grinning at Lightning, who awarded him with a tiny smile.

"I am glad I am a phoenix, then," he said, sheathing his ninja sword and picking up Fomalhaut. Lightning watched him polish it almost hungrily; he assumed that his other self must have done things very similarly. When Cidolfus went to sleep, she would join him on the roof of the Strahl to talk about days long past and her many adventures, and when the sun shone its first ray over the horizon, she would still be there, sitting next to him.

She told him of Pulse, and Cocoon, and the Fal'Cie gods that ruled over the worlds. She often spoke of the other Balthier, with a longing glint in her eye, though as soon as she looked toward him (but not toward his now moon-bright silver eyes), the glint would fade, if only slightly. When she told him of his possession by Ragnarok, Balthier laughed.

"I do not think that fur and claws particularly suit me," he said, eliciting a quiet laugh from the apprentice knight.

"No, but you were a very fine Ragnarok," she replied.

"Sometimes, you remind me of a girl I knew named Alice. She was a very sweet little thing... pushed me into a pond once, if I remember." Balthier did not think that he had ever enjoyed repairing the Strahl quite so much, as he told her his stories. With Lightning there, he was never alone— she did not need to sleep, like Fran did.

The next day, Balthier started working on the engine, the last part of the ship that needed fixing before he could leave. He lie under the engine, hands busy with replacing gears and bolts and various other damaged paraphernalia, while Lightning sat at her usual spot like a sentinel. She was deep in thought, her eyes downcast and her knees tucked under her chin. Balthier did not interrupt her, but when the silence dragged on, Ashe's ghost urged him to speak to her. He peeped out from under the engine. Lightning seemed… sad. Sadder than usual.

"You're awfully quite today. Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, as if rousing herself. "Cid's getting impatient, that's all. We were supposed to be hunting."

"Why don't you join him? That might cheer you up."

"I'm watching over you."

"What makes you think I need watching over? Afraid the engine might fall on me and crush me or something like that? Or… is it that you're afraid that I'll try to leave without saying goodbye? If I promise to stay around a while longer, would you go help your old man and stop his complaining?" he asked.

"I don't think you're the type to keep promises." Lightning answered.

"Sorry, love, but I'm not the other me. If he kept promises, I don't know, but I do not. However, just this once, I might change." With a nonchalant hand, he waved in a shooing gesture. "Off you go, wouldn't want old Cid to become jealous now, do we?" Balthier tilted his head back to look at her, but just as he expected, her blue eyes quickly darted away. He chewed his lip, disappointed.

A new smell wafted over him then, pungent and cloying. He would recognize that smell anywhere…

When the white, hyena like beast crashed into the clearing, hot on Cidolfus's heels, Lightning jumped to her feet and ran outside the airship, snagging her greatsword from its spot by the door, taking the stairs two at a time. Balthier dragged himself from under the engine, reaching for Fomalhaut and cursing heartily at the same time. He was bloody tired of meeting Bandersnatch!

"I can't escape the past, or it can't stop chasing me. Locking myself in my room is starting to sound rather appealing," he muttered.

"Just follow my lead!" Lightning called, bounding across the dewy grass like a gazelle. Fearlessly, she faced down the beast, her flowing golden hair reminding Balthier horribly of Alice, her sword at the ready. When it swatted at her, she dodged by a hair's breadth, climbing the beast's foreleg and balancing on its humped back. The Bandersnatch yowled in rage, twisting in an attempt to throw her balance off and knock her down, but before it could succeed, Balthier jumped between the whirling paws and ripped out a hank of its fur. It was incredibly stupid, he knew, and he also knew better than anyone what a Bandersnatch's claws could do. Dodging another swipe, he managed to dance backward out of the way, just as Lightning's Ragnarok blade pierced the monster's neck. It collapsed seconds later, and she slid from its back, sighing mockingly.

"The thing's dead, happy now?" Lightning asked. "The reward had better be good."

"Did you pick that up from the other Balthier?" Balthier teased, and Lightning pursed her lips.

"Perhaps."

Cidolfus whistled, examining a glowing stone between the Bandersnatch's teeth. "That is some treasure, to be sure. Please get it, my phoenix." Balthier helped lift the beast's heavy jaw while Lightning prized the crystal free and held it out for them to see. It was a small orange crystal, bright with its own arcane light and glittering with shining Bandersnatch saliva.

"A Teleport Stone," Balthier hummed. "They used those to send humes around Ivalice back in the day, though Fran and I have tried to grant ships the same luxury. What was that fiend doing with it, I wonder…"

"It used to live on Gran Pulse," Lightning replied, studying the stone in her hands. "You mentioned that it was in Underland too, didn't you, Balthier?"

"This Ivalice has—er, had one as well. It is likely my Ivalice probably has its own. I do not fancy going toe to toe with this thing again." he shivered, his old scars twinging. Lightning finally looked up from her contemplation of the stone, though she fixed her eyes on Cidolfus rather than the surprised expression that danced over Balthier's face.

"Take it. If you put it in your trip, you will be able to return to your Ivalice. Fran is waiting, I am sure," she said quickly.

Balthier clasped his hands over it, feeling the warm energy leaking off it. Fran would be very angry with him this time, though she would likely be angry with herself for letting him do such folly that got him teleported in the first place. "Yes, you're right. I am not looking forward to seeing her reaction after leaving her again for the thousandth time, but it is better than leaving her forever."

Lightning turned away quickly as if angered by his response. Balthier immediately kicked himself for being so insensitive— it had probably been a hard decision for her to make, losing him (for her) again.

Balthier set the Teleport Stone in the glossair rings, watching as the lights on the Strahl began to shine. Lightning watched the ship glow, but quickly looked down when he approached. His smirk faded a little.

"Some thanks are in order," he said. "If you hadn't found me, I would be in a much more… well, not very good state. As worse as our kind can get, if you know what I mean." Balthier bowed to her, a wry smile on his face. He had not really told her of the Madness, or spoke much of the Hunger, but somehow, he knew she understood.

"Sometimes, it means there is nothing wrong," Lightning replied. "You're welcome. I hope Fran will go easy on you for disappearing again."

Balthier looked toward the ground, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm sure it will happen again, in one century or another. Always does."

Lightning went back to watching the Strahl hum, longing reflected in her eyes. Balthier took her hand, marveling at how good it felt not to be burned by touching another human being. He pressed his lips to her fingertips with a small smile. Her eyes locked onto his hands, but still, she refused to meet his eyes. Why?

"Fran would say the gods are smiling upon us right now. They must have willed me to you." He said softly. Lightning tugged her hand from his, though she rolled her eyes, always avoiding his own.

"Save the sweet-talk for her, not me."

"Hm… I regret that I am not the one you've been mourning all these years, but no need to suddenly be cold with me during my departure." Balthier said, feigning hurt.

Lightning glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, while Cid chuckled quietly.

"She is just being herself. I am sad to say that my phoenix is not as warm as her name implies," he commented.

"You should go, or we will still be standing here after the sun rises on the morrow." Lightning shook her head. "The night draws short."

"Oh Light," Balthier laughed as he climbed the stairs to enter the ship. "You should know that there is no Night for our kind… or at least, not for mine." Seeing her standing there, all alone, made him strangely sad, no matter how much he laughed it off. Lightning could stand there for eternity, for all he knew, even when Cid had turned into only dust on the wind, there she would stand until the end of time. The gift of Immortality— ever and always, ironically a curse. As he watched her, she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. They were breath-taking— he knew they would be, but it was different to actually see… Her eyes were so very, very sad.

"You could come with me, you know," he said quietly. "You'd make a good sky pirate."

Lightning forced a smile that only made her eyes look sadder. "I'm all right here. Cid would not be happy if his apprentice ran off with a pirate."

"He's like an older Vossler," the ghost of Vaan noted, and Balthier's eyes drifted toward him. "Vossler likely was not happy when Ashe ran off with us, for sure."

"Yes… that seems likely." Balthier murmured. "I hope you find the other Balthier one day, Light. If the Fates will it, perhaps we will meet again…"

She did not answer, she only stared at him with those sad, sad eyes. Eyes that the ghosts flocked to, not ran away from. He would never be alone when Lightning was around. Not ever.

The Strahl was rising, higher and higher, and the energy levels were rising too. When he punched the overdrive button, he found himself drifting over Archades, in the year one-thousand-thirty-one. Gently descending through the clouds and into the aerodrome, he was met by a very distraught Fran and a hysterical Leveret.

One hour later, Balthier sank into his bed, listening as the lock clicked in the door. He could hear Fran's heels clacking away, and the sound of the key being put… somewhere.

"Sorry, Light," he murmured. "Looks like I wasn't so lucky."