[Calling Balthier has not been an easy decision to come to, but given his little exchange over Avalon's network, she can't really think of another way to handle things. But she intends on it being a relatively short-lived adventure. Regardless of whatever may occur between them, she knows her place is very firmly planted between him and Sephiroth.
That is her burden. Not his and she must do whatever she can to keep him out of it.
But it doesn't stop her from being incredibly nervous as she waits for him to pick up. She's not leaving him a message for this and he needs to hear it in voice. Not in a text message.
Text messages have proven to only tick people off.]
[Balthier doesn't love just how immediately eager he finds himself feeling when he sees the incoming call, and for a few moments, he stays his hand, silently reminding himself that he's still rather sore about certain things— though if he were being entirely honest with himself, which he very rarely is, it's been difficult to stay as angry as he thinks he should.
He does answer, after a few rings, and is careful to keep his tone of voice even, cool, measured.]
Aerith. To what do I owe the pleasure?
[He could probably allot himself three guesses as to what this call concerns, and the first two don't count.]
[It is both wonderful and heart-wrenching to hear his voice. He could be angry. He could be annoyed. He could be overjoyed. It would not matter how he is, only that she hears him at all.
Her heart paves the way for a resounding thump that she's thankful he can't hear. How deeply he still remains beneath her skin. But it's not as if she ever thought he'd simply disappear. He's a part of her, whether she wants him to be or not.]
That man.
[She doesn't need to say his name. He'll know who she means.
Her tone is... different somehow. Likely that trepidation, subtle though it may be. Something she covers with a firm demeanour. It's an uncommon thing to hear from her.]
Don't get involved with him. If you have to say anything to him, say as little as you possibly can. But stay away from him.
[Similarly, he finds himself having conflicting feelings with regards to hearing her voice once more— he'd heard it during her broadcast, and that had been jarring enough after so long, but it was still different. She hadn't been speaking to him directly.
He's missed it, plain and simple, though he knows this isn't the time to say so.
That shift in her tone is subtle, but unusual. He has always been quite keen when it comes to reading others, a skill that has only become sharper with use during his pirating ventures. He frowns to himself, knowing the answer full well before he even asks.]
It's him, then. He's the one?
[The man in question could hardly be called subtle, either way.]
[She hesitates to answer him. Not because she's unsure. No, she's very well aware of Sephiroth's impact on her future. He wasn't shy at all about confessing to it. She has a feeling, however... some kind of suspicion that Balthier may get involved where he shouldn't.]
...Yes.
[She finally does say, but not without some reluctance. It's equally rare for her to give a straight answer, especially regarding something she's tried to avoid discussing.]
[He doesn't think he's ever been so displeased with being right about something. Even though he'd expected that answer, he certainly doesn't care for it.
The reason for Aerith's hesitance to allow herself what she freely encourages in others, the reason she's come to have such a complicated relationship with her own existence, is right here.]
I should be saying the same to you.
[There's an unusually hard edge to his voice now; it's a hardness born of concern, of caring, but he sounds oddly strained.]
What were you thinking, all but inviting him in like any other customer?
[She doesn't need him getting on her case. It's not his problem. Aerith also understands that he is only saying it out of concern. Evidently no amount of anger saps his care. Or the painful honesty she hears in him.
Aerith waits several breaths before she actually responds.]
He's been here for months. If he was going to do something, he would have done it already. The last time we spoke, the only thing he did was—
[Was confirm that he was the one responsible. She can't say that. Won't.]
It doesn't matter. He didn't do anything. [Nothing malleable.] I said what I did because I know he isn't going to show up there. If he wanted to track me down, he would have.
[Hearing he's been here for months does nothing to calm his ire or inspire confidence. What he has or hasn't physically done in this place are of little consequence; what matters to him far more is the unusual hesitation he'd heard in Aerith's voice when that man had approached her.
He has never known her to be openly afraid, but he thinks in that moment, she might have been close.]
He seems intent on antagonizing you, regardless of how much time he's had. Gods, if he's the one who—
[He can't even bring himself to say it, but his temper flares nonetheless— not at her, but the situation itself is an impossible one.]
It shouldn't matter what he's done in this place. He shouldn't be anywhere near you.
He's not wrong. On any account. Sephiroth has a unique ability to actually leave her feeling uncertain. Powerless. Essentially because she feels as if she is. She puts up a brave front, but someone like Balthier can likely see right through it. And Sephiroth does antagonise her. Because he knows it'll get to her, even if she refuses to show it outwardly. And sometimes when he speaks to her...]
If anything happens, you'll hear about it. But nothing will happen.
[She says it for his benefit. That's not a promise she can make and keep. Because if Sephiroth gets curious about Balthier, she won't have a choice except to step in. In some ways, she wishes Balthier hadn't intervened at all. It makes him a target.
If she couldn't protect herself against Sephiroth, who's to say she can protect Balthier?]
Forgive me if I don't find the idea of hearing about any heinous acts after the fact to be of any comfort.
[Not that this is about his feelings, beyond his concern. Aerith is so much stronger than most would give her credit for at first glance— and even so, the way that man spoke had shaken her. She'd composed herself well, pushed through, but as ever, Balthier remains an expert at reading people.
It's considerably easier when the person in question is someone he cares about.]
Even the way he speaks to you—
[She won't be able to see him as he shakes his head in frustration, of course, but she'll hear him scoff.]
[It's not fine. She knows that. She's just saying it as a means of placating. If he loses his temper, she isn't sure what he'll be like. She doesn't know if she'll be able to stop him from doing something stupid.]
If I feel like I'm in danger, I can get someone to guard me, but I don't think that'll be necessary.
[She looses a sigh, easily able to picture exactly what he looks like when he makes his little scoff.]
Sephiroth and I are both in the same situation. He wouldn't gain anything here by doing anything to me. And we're both powerless here.
[Placation seems to do little, though perhaps she can take some comfort in the fact that Balthier doesn't seem to be loading his gun while they speak. Though certainly upset, he's yet to do anything reckless.]
There's more to be concerned about than physical danger, worrying as that may be.
[The rest of it— it isn't nothing, like she seems to want to convince him, or perhaps convince herself.]
People like him don't need to have something to gain. They think the laws of nature don't apply to them, have no care for consequences. I know.
[He knows the mark of madness when he sees it, however subdued.]
[Aerith says nothing for many long moments. Probably long enough to make one wonder if she is simply of a mind to hang up on him. All she's doing is listening. Giving him the opportunity to get out whatever he feels he needs to over this situation. Where she stands with it remains firmly in place. And it is important that he understands she's taking his concerns seriously.
It wouldn't matter what their relationship was like. He would be protective regardless, she assumes. Although there is quite likely a certain level of that protectiveness fueled by their circumstances. And by her own, of course.]
I didn't call you to argue about this or to cause you more concern than necessary. All I want is for you to keep yourself out of it.
[Because I can't guarantee that I'll protect you.]
I need you to be able to agree to that for me. I wouldn't ask anything of you unless I felt it was necessary. This is necessary.
Realistically, what would he do? This isn't Ivalice. When something is over and done with, he can't climb aboard the Strahl and leave, forgoing all consequences. The situation is clearly more complex than he knows— he knows next to nothing beyond the end result— and while that certainly doesn't offer any excuse, it means his actions will have consequences that affect more than just him.
It's what he imagines she meant when she'd said 'powerless.' What could possibly be done that wouldn't make the situation worse?
He, too, is quiet for several long moments. When he speaks again, his voice has softened considerably, though it remains heavy.]
I've never heard you sound the way you did when he spoke to you. I just don't want to see you hurt.
[He can't sound like that with her. She knows she can't handle that. That ridiculous softness to his voice. The voice he uses with her every time he expresses concern. Every time he's ever reassured her. Just hearing him makes her heart hurt. She's almost certain it hurts more because he's worried about her. Afraid for her. She's never asked for that.]
...You weren't supposed to hear that.
[It's there. In those moments. A subtle falter in her voice. A waver. Not out of fear. At least, not because of Sephiroth. She would weather a plethora of him antagonising her before she could properly endure causing Balthier concern.]
[Whether or not he was supposed to, he can't unhear it now. It was so unlike her, he's not certain he ever will.]
You can tell me it's 'fine' all you like. It won't change anything.
[Someone can't just stop being concerned about such a thing, regardless of how many times Balthier has insisted that he could brush any and all cares away without consequence. He'd never managed to convince much of anyone with that bit, least of all himself.]
[What is she supposed to say? That she'll go to him if something happens? She can't do that. She can't go to anyone because that would mean endangering someone else. It always seems to come down to the same thing. It's not that it's fine for her to be in a position of danger. It's that she would always rather weather the hardships than those around her. Than those she cares for. If she can't be around as long as she'd like to be, doesn't she owe it to everyone else to give every part of herself? Isn't it her responsibility to take all of that on? Isn't that the right thing to do?
She swallows, not for the first time in recent days and weeks, feeling the crushing weight of reality, threatening her strength to carry it.]
I know that.
[Aerith finally replies quietly.]
I can't stop you from worrying and I'm not going to try. None of this was about that. Your feelings are your own and no one else can change them. No one else should be allowed to change them. I'm not exempt from that. But I can't have you involved with him. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. If you end up doing something careless, the only place I can stand is between you and him.
Edited (DON'T LOOK AT ME I MISSED A LETTER) 2021-11-13 07:54 (UTC)
[He would love to be able to make her that promise. Aerith conducts herself by her own personal code, insisting that she'll always do what she believes to be right. Whether or not others agree seems to have little to do with it. Similarly, he has a code of his own. Sometimes, reckless is the right thing— but even he can admit that this is not the right moment.]
I'm hardly about to go charging after him, but if I feel you're in danger— you cannot expect me to stand aside and offer the benefit of the doubt. I won't.
[How could he?]
I don't wish to put you in a position where you feel you have no choice but to stand between us, but I won't see you bear this on your own, either.
[Even if she doesn't want to see him. Even if this is the first time she's spoken to him in weeks.
Once someone makes their way in and gets you to care, it's difficult to stop, he's found.]
The words lock right in her throat, because she knows no matter how she earnestly believes that, Balthier would be outraged to hear it. Maybe not outraged, but he certainly wouldn't be shy about telling her what he really thinks. He has something he needs to go back home to. If she has to start calculating the weight of her life versus his, it's not comparable. She will always choose him first.
She can't get him to say what she really wants out of him. His is a stubbornness that easily rivals her own and they have reached a point where they can't agree with one another. Where they understand and even perhaps marginally respect, but it's merely disagreement. Aerith seems to get that ultimately, he'll do whatever he thinks is necessary.
Because of his heart and the way she's touched it.]
[Because what is there to say? They won't agree on this; doing so would require one or both of them to act against their very nature, and in stubbornness they are equally matched.]
You've told me more than once that you will always do what you think is right. An admirable trait. One might not expect it from a pirate, but so will I.
[Even if he doesn't always state it so openly. He will never act against his conscience, especially not now.]
I can't make you that promise. For that, I'm sorry.
[She could try to sway him. If she were more foolish, or younger, perhaps. But she doesn't do anything like that. She doesn't even consider it as a remote possibility. She doesn't have to agree with him. That was never a requirement either.
Aerith settles on his words, simply turns them over in her head. She wonders who or what decided she was worthy of that. In the end, it may have nothing to do with her worth. Balthier does as he does, she suspects, that he can face himself free from guilt. It can't be all about her. She can't think that it is either.]
This situation, this circumstance, this predicament, is mine. Not yours. It isn't something you can fix. It isn't something you can change. It is what it is. It's my burden. It's my responsibility. As such, I'll do everything I can do to otherwise prevent any need for your intervention. Whatever that may entail.
[After a pause, she continues.]
I guess what I mean is that I'm going to become very, very good at defending myself. So that you won't have to again.
[Were the situation different, he might laugh— the approach is wholly her own, what he should have come to expect from her, but it only makes his heart feel that much heavier.
Determined, as always, to do things all on her own, and it's so like what he's seen in himself over the years that it's disheartening. It's difficult to sway someone from thinking like that. He's never really given it up, himself.]
You should know by now that I don't do anything because I feel I have to.
[It's not the part of her statement she would have wanted him to focus on, he knows.]
Nor is this your responsibility— this situation isn't a consequence of your actions.
[No. The blame for that lies squarely with another party entirely.]
[She knows. She's very well aware of it. She understands that essentially, she has been the catalyst for all of this. Aerith never imagined she would take root in his life, in his heart, the way it seems she has. His true feelings? She wouldn't know. She can't know.
It's another cowardly act on her part, still meant to serve long-term benefit to both of them, even if these day to day adventures are painful.
She has to act like he hasn't said any part of that. And she does, though it's evident it weighs on her with that extended pause.]
I'm here. Cloud is here. That's reason enough.
[He won't understand any of that and she doesn't seem inclined to explain.]
It doesn't matter. I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for at least hearing me out.
[No, he doesn't understand how her presence here could possibly be enough to make anything her responsibility, but he supposes it doesn't matter. What does matter is that he recognizes her response for what it is. She's withdrawing, knowing they won't see eye-to-eye on this matter.]
It's not—
[He sighs, frustrated, and pinches the bridge of his nose unseen.]
I have no desire to make things more difficult for you, but please. You cannot take these things onto your shoulders, all on your own. [A brief pause, before adding:] Does Tifa know?
[He doesn't expect Aerith to feel like she can turn to him, to confide in him— the time for that was gone almost as soon as it had begun— but he knows she can turn to Tifa. Tifa would want to know.]
[He doesn't know it, but every time he says her name like so, she can't help but actually listen. There's just some kind of edge in it. She can't call it parental. She isn't sure what it is.
But it's something. Whatever it may be, it manages to make her pause, to come to a full stop.]
She knows that he's here.
[There's a pause. A break in her voice. Whatever Balthier might be asking her there, she skirts around.]
I don't know the details, but she has her own hangups with him. I promised her that I would keep her safe and we both agreed that we would stay away from him.
[Loosing a long sigh, Aerith continues. He's broken her down just enough that she doesn't bother to soften or tiptoe around the rest that she says. If she's resigned, and a part of her is, then she simply takes it in stride.]
So you get it. I need to protect her. I need to protect you. And I need to protect the others. The worst thing that can happen is going to happen anyway eventually. So I have to do everything that I can do for all of you. For as long as I can, anyway.
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