(Disclaimer: As a work of fanfiction, the creation of this piece does not imply ownership of the Final Fantasy franchise, its characters, or any affiliated intellectual property.)

Quistis did not sleep well. She spent the rest of the evening pulling up every file she had sent Cid, going over each one line-by-line, taking notes on anything she thought the headmaster might take issue with and preparing an argument for its inclusion. Even as she lay in bed, she continued to run through the materials in her head, and she got up more than once to add to her notes. Somewhere amid this mess of frustration and self-doubt, she fell asleep.

She woke to her alarm, feeling as if she'd only drifted off minutes before. She gathered her notes, made sure she looked professional, and turned on her computer. She hesitated placing the call to Garden, and she decided at the last minute to send a message to Argider, explaining the situation and letting him know she might be late to the library. Then, her excuses exhausted, she took a deep breath and made the call.

Cid appeared in the communications window, frowning, his hands folded on his desk. "Good morning, Quistis," he said. "I am sorry I couldn't get in touch with you yesterday."

"Good morning, sir," Quistis replied, but she did not apologize for being unavailable.

"I wanted to speak to you regarding the portions of the curriculum you have been sending me. They are very well-written, and your research is impressive. However, the content seems to be deviating from the outline you submitted for my approval."

"Yes, it has. I drafted that outline based on the information I had available at the time. Namely, the extent of knowledge covered in the books I had borrowed from the library here. But in the process of conducting research for that outline, I have discovered much more information that I believe is invaluable to the development of blue mages at Garden."

"So you have. But did you not stop to consider whether all of that information might be too much for one course?" Cid picked up a stack of papers. The curriculum notes, Quistis assumed. "For example, this section here, 'The Historical and Cultural Context of Blue Magic.' While this information is very interesting indeed, it has no practical application in a blue mage's education. It makes no difference whether they know that people once assumed their power to be that of a god; their job is to use their skill to exterminate the enemy and complete missions."

"If you were dissatisfied with that section, why didn't you let me know before?"

"Because I had faith that you would correct yourself. But this last portion you submitted to me, all full of impractical applications and vague theories, is boring at best, confusing at worst. Blue mages at Balamb Garden only have a few ways of learning skills; they don't need to know any more, and they definitely don't need to waste valuable time and energy debating theories."

Quistis bit her lip, thankful that Cid couldn't see her clench her fists beneath the table. "It isn't a waste of time to understand how one's skill fits into society at large. This kind of information gives mages context, an anchor in the world around them, so they might not feel alone. Isn't one of Garden's goals to produce well-rounded citizens as well as properly-trained mercenaries?"

"Yes, it is," Cid admitted. "But knowing who said what about arcane knowledge is hardly relevant to becoming a functioning citizen. No one wants to hear about those things, perhaps not even the blue mages themselves."

"And you'd make that decision for them? If the mages don't want to hear it, let them tell me themselves."

"Tell you? Why would they —"

"Furthermore, you said once that you didn't want all of your students to become machines."

"When did I —"

"I overheard you say those words to Seifer after his final failed exam, before you put the blame of his failure on me. You seemed undecided on whether to punish him, because you seemed to admire his independence — his rebelliousness — even when it jeopardized the entire mission." Quistis smirked. "Or does that sentiment apply only to Seifer? Don't think I didn't see the favoritism —"

"That is enough!" Cid slammed his palms onto his desk, half-rising from his chair. "You dare to speak to me that way? You are treading a very dangerous line here, Trepe. I could call your little outburst insubordination. I could cut off funding for your little venture right now and order you on the next flight back to Balamb." He sat down and adjusted his glasses. "But I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you're stressed, maybe you're tired. You were out until all hours last night, after all."

"I got in at 20:30!" Her arrival at the apartment was the most useless point to argue in this context, but Quistis felt that Cid saw it as a reason to question her industriousness, her character. Beneath the table, her hands began to shake, but she set her jaw and maintained her composure.

"No matter. This whole disagreement is far beside the point I originally hoped to make. I've taken issue with the content of your submissions for a more practical reason: without all of the resources you have at your fingertips, how is anyone expected to understand enough of this to actually teach it?"

"I've included a very detailed bibliography with each segment, as well as extensive footnotes. I can obtain copies of the relevant chapters and sections from textbooks and reports to submit to you for distribution to the prospective instructor."

"That assumes the instructor is willing to put in the extra work. Teaching a course, especially an introductory course, shouldn't require such extensive preparation."

"Because you would need to compensate them for the extra time they spent preparing, correct?"

Cid glared at her. "That's part of the reason. The other is, where would I find an instructor patient enough to go through the tomes of supplemental material you're threatening to send me?"

Quistis frowned, but when she realized she had an opening, she softened her expression. "You have one," she said.

"What?"

"I can teach the course. I can always reapply for my instructor's license, and I am very familiar with the information I'm including in the curriculum."

Cid snorted. "You? Have you already forgotten that I personally dismissed you from your original position?"

"But that was for lack of leadership on the battlefield, sir." The words tasted sour as she spoke them. "This course is strictly classroom-based."

"I can't stop you from reapplying for your license, but I cannot guarantee that Balamb Garden will have any position available for you. You have failed us once, Quistis, please don't do so again." He tapped the stack of papers in front of him. "I want to see a streamlined, beginner-friendly version of the most recent section of this curriculum at the time of your next scheduled progress report. Failure to provide the requested material will result in the immediate termination of your sabbatical. Have a good day, Miss Trepe."

Before Quistis could say anymore, Cid reached out with one stubby finger and disconnected the call.

"Dammit!" Quistis shouted, slamming her laptop closed. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She shoved a stack of books off the table, slammed her fist onto the tabletop. She covered her face and let out a long scream of frustration, punctuated by some choice curse words, then slumped back in her chair and sighed.

The doubts crept in, slowly and quietly. Cid was right, Quistis admitted, the material she'd gathered probably was too much for one course. But Garden wasn't going to incorporate it right away; she would've had time to edit it down, maybe even develop several courses from the information she'd accumulated, right there where Cid could immediately review things to his liking.

Maybe she'd gotten defensive, maybe she'd pushed too far. She was getting used to being independent, to pursuing her curiosity as far as it would take her. She'd forgotten how much power Cid still had over her life, and how much of that life she still owed to Garden.

She opened her computer and turned it on to make sure she hadn't damaged it. She picked up the books on the floor and fixed her hair by her reflection in the computer screen. She would have to tell Argider to cancel their plans for a research project, or, in a more charitable gesture, turn the project over to him. There was no way she would have time to devote to new research now. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears, gritting her teeth and forcing herself not to cry.

She walked to the lift station, defeated.

•·•·•·•·•·•·•

"Good morning," Retta chirped as Quistis walked into the library, only twenty minutes later than usual. "Thank you for your help yesterday."

"You're welcome." Quistis gave a half-hearted smile, ignoring Retta's inquisitive look as she made her way to the back. Argider looked up from his desk and grinned.

"Oh, Quistis, I hadn't expected you so early. When I saw your message, I assumed you wouldn't get here until the afternoon."

"The conversation with my boss didn't take as long as I thought it would."

"Boss? I don't think I've ever heard you refer to the headmaster like that before."

"He is my boss, isn't he? And what he says goes." Quistis sat down and opened her laptop.

"Is something the matter?" Argider asked. "You seem upset. Does this have anything to do with yesterday evening?"

"No."

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?"

"I said it didn't have anything to do with last night," Quistis snapped. "Contrary to what you might've been told your whole life, the world doesn't revolve around you. There are plenty of other things a person can be upset about."

"Whoa. All right, then." Argider turned back to his computer.

"I'm sorry," Quistis groaned, rubbing her temples. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just a little … preoccupied right now." She couldn't find the courage to tell him that the project he'd so eagerly anticipated the evening before was not going to happen.

"Don't worry about it. You're only human, after all." He brightened. "Hey, do you have a minute to come up to the lab with me? I want to get you familiarized with its operation before we put together the proposal for the project. I've scheduled a phone conference with Kiros and an Estharian army general for this afternoon."

"So soon?" Quistis rose and followed him, thankful for the relative privacy of the second floor, where she could explain why she had to abandon the project. Argider walked toward the lab, but did not open the door. Instead, he turned around, hands in his pockets, and looked at her.

"All right," he said, "what's going on? You're more than just preoccupied right now. You don't have to give me details, but I want to know if there's anything Retta or I can do to help."

Quistis avoided his eyes. "I … can't work on the project."

"What? Why not?"

Quistis told him about Cid's new demands. He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Now I know why you started calling him your 'boss,'" he said. "People like him love to give ridiculous orders, but I don't think they even understand what they're saying half the time. Is there any way you can work around it?"

"No. It's going to take up all my time. If I can't deliver a revised curriculum by the next time I'm scheduled to send in work, Cid will terminate my sabbatical."

Argider frowned. "That seems harsh. You've been working hard here. So what if you got a little carried away? His timetable is really screwed up." He sighed. "Haven't you ever considered leaving Garden?"

Quistis shook her head. The thought had really never crossed her mind.

Argider continued. "It makes no sense that someone like you – someone so bright, so strong, so independent – should have to answer to someone whose biggest concern is how to make the most money off of child soldiers."

Quistis bristled. Rationally, she knew he was praising her, but right now it sounded like another criticism of how she lived her life. "It makes more sense than you realize," she said coldly. "I am indebted to Garden."

"Indebted?"

"Everything I have is because of them."

"Really? Wow, I guess if even you couldn't resist their brainwashing, they must be pretty effective."

"It's the truth."

"Is it? What in the world did you do to end up at their mercy? How could you even consider going to them for help in the first place?"

"I didn't have a choice! I was given up!"

Argider stared at her, silent. Quistis turned away. A suite of memories, long suppressed by the use of Guardian Forces and only recently resurfaced, came to the fore once again. They flooded her mind and rushed into her mouth, bitter and vile, and she had no choice but to spit them out.

"My family was killed during the Second Sorceress War," she began in monotone. "I was sent to an orphanage and adopted out when I was about five years old. The couple that adopted me was one of means, and I think they chose me specifically because I fit their image of the perfect little girl. They wanted me to dance, to play the flute and the piano, to be quiet and polite and not speak unless I was spoken to. They hated that I liked to read, and that I had so many questions. They hated even more that I was no good at what they wanted me to be. So when I was ten, they decided they'd had enough. They took me to Garden. They gave me up.

"At Garden, I swore I'd be the perfect girl I couldn't be before, so that maybe they wouldn't give me up, too. I studied hard, I took the SeeD exam at my very first opportunity, and I passed. I became Garden's youngest instructor at seventeen. Then, a year later, I lost it all. One of my students went rogue during the field exam and took his classmates along. I was blamed for his actions, even though I had no way of monitoring him at the moment he made his decision. It was decided that such a disobedient student could only be the result of an incompetent instructor. As far as Garden was concerned, I'd failed them even more than my student had.

"And that's when they gave up on me, too."

Argider said nothing, and Quistis couldn't blame him. The whole story had just come tumbling out of her, and it was nothing anyone wanted to hear. She could not have known, when Irvine triggered her memories of the orphanage three years ago, just how deep her other suppressed memories ran, how painful and fresh their wounds would feel.

Some days, it was too much. Some days, she'd go into Squall's office and beg to be sent on a mission, any mission, just to have a chance to junction again and bury those memories, even for a little bit, to reclaim a moment's peace. Squall would always deny the request for dispatch, but in merciful solidarity, he would provide her with a document to procure a GF for "training purposes." He, too, understood the agony of too many memories resurfacing at once.

It was something that Argider could never understand. And maybe that was what hurt Quistis the most. She blinked back tears, determined not to cry in front of him. She set her jaw and glanced at him, noticing that he'd been watching her the whole time.

She waved the memories away and dropped her gaze to the floor. "I shouldn't have told you all this," she said. "What are you supposed to say about other people's problems, anyway?"

"I'm sorry," Argider said softly. "I'm so sorry about what you've been through. I'm sorry that you've had to bear so much pain. And I'm especially sorry that you feel that no one cares." He stepped closer to her, but did not reach out to touch her. "I can't see the future, so I can't say it'll get easier, I can't even say the worst is behind you. But I can say that the people who gave up on you are wrong."

Quistis' eyes widened at his response, letting loose the tears she'd been holding back.

"I can say with absolute certainty that there is so much more to you than what those people deemed a failure," Argider continued. "I've seen it. So, please, even if you can't forget the pain, don't let it define you anymore. Don't give those bastards the satisfaction of keeping you down."

Quistis was trembling now. She leaned against the window ledge and brought her hands to her mouth to try to stifle a sob. She didn't succeed, and once the first one was out, others followed, loud and painful, feeling as though they were being torn from her heart. Her legs weakened beneath her and she crumpled toward the floor, but Argider caught her arm and led her toward the lab. He unlocked the door and turned on the lights, then helped her onto one of the high stools. She tried to stop crying, ashamed of how she must look, but the sobs found their way out. Argider sat quietly beside her, resting a reassuring hand on her back, as she finally released years of frustration and hurt.

When she was spent, her face a swollen mess, she laid her head on the table in front of her and mumbled an apology.

"There's no need to apologize," Argider said. "You've obviously been under a lot of stress, and what happened this morning must've been the last straw. Do you need me to get you anything? Tissues, water?"

"No, thank you." Quistis raised her head. "I'll go clean myself up."

Staring at her reflection in the restroom mirror, her features still puffy and red even after multiple splashes of cold water, Quistis berated herself for her outsized reaction. She wasn't usually given to tears; she preferred to keep her strongest feelings inside, where they could be controlled, hidden away. And now she'd not only blurted out her pathetic story to Argider, but she'd also practically dissolved right in front of him. She wondered how he must see her now - she was definitely not the strong, mature, curiosity-driven researcher he'd thought she was. Beneath that façade, she was only a weak, unstable little girl, one so desperate for kindness that she fell apart at the slightest hint of it.

When she returned to the laboratory, she noticed that Argider hadn't moved from his seat, and now he stared into the distance, apparently lost in thought. He turned toward her as she entered and asked whether she would like to take the rest of the day off. Quistis thought about her silent apartment, the books stacked haphazardly on her table, the resentment of this morning's discussion still hanging in the air, and declined.

"In that case," he said. "Feel free to rest here for a while. I've got to head back downstairs to get some work done, and prepare for the conference call."

"Oh. So the project is still on, then?" Quistis asked. In her emotional distress, she'd forgotten to make the magnanimous gesture of turning the project over to him. Luckily for her, he was self-centered enough to take it for himself.

"Of course."

She tried to smile. "Good luck with it. I hope the information you find is useful."

"What are you saying?" He frowned. "I'm keeping the conference appointment so that you can go ahead with the project."

"I told you, it's impossible."

"Haven't I mentioned something to you about giving up too easily?"

"Yes, that I do it."

"Exactly. There might be a way to salvage the project and meet your boss' demands. Let me see if I can't figure something out." He rose and walked to the door. "Just give me until the end of the day. Then, if there's no solution in sight, we can talk about abandoning the project."

Quistis watched the door shut behind him. She admired his confidence, even if it was ridiculous and ill-placed. In the cool quiet of the laboratory, her agitation faded away, and tiredness began to overtake her. A short nap didn't seem like a bad idea. She rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes.

Just for a few minutes …

She woke to someone shaking her shoulder, and opened her eyes to Retta's smiling face.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Retta teased. "You're going to miss lunch, and that won't do!" She placed a takeout container, still steaming, on the table in front of Quistis. "This might not be the ideal place to eat," she continued, wiping the table with her finger to check for dust and residue, "but I don't think we'll end up getting poisoned."

Still feeling as if her head was stuffed with cotton, Quistis sat up and accepted a plastic fork from Retta.

"Argider told me what happened with your boss," Retta said, opening her own container. "So, if I understand him correctly, your boss wants you to revise your curriculum within the next two weeks?"

Quistis nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "It's just the latest segment right now," she said. "But I'm sure he'll want me to go back and do the same with the others. He said they were too detailed for an introductory course, for the prospective instructor, specifically."

"Ah, yes, introductory courses. I had to develop a few of those when I taught at the university. Sometimes, I think they're the hardest to plan. You're well-versed in the material, so you can't always see where the students are coming from. There's a lot of hand-holding involved."

"Exactly!"

Retta grinned. "You know what helped me? I'd think of my intro students as baby birds. They've hatched, and they're demanding, but you can't just boot them from the nest right away. You've got to wait until they've grown their feathers, learned how to use their wings. It's your job to help them do that."

"So, basically, you become a mother bird?"

"That's a perfect analogy. As the instructor, you've taken in plenty of new information, but before any of your knowledge can help your students, you have to break it down, then regurgitate it in easily digestible bits."

Quistis wrinkled her nose and laughed. "Oh my goodness, that's a vivid analogy!"

"But it fits, no?" The two ate in silence for a while. "Argider also mentioned that you are considering abandoning your research project."

"Revising the curriculum will take all my time." Quistis set down her food. "I don't even know where to start."

"That's because you're too deep into the research." Retta turned to face Quistis directly. "How would you like a little help?"

"Help?"

"I'd be happy to help you. I know next to nothing about the intricacies of blue magic, so I'm pretty much on the same level as an intro student. However, I have experience developing curricula, so I can offer some pointers in course structure as well. What do you say?"

"I wouldn't want to burden you with my problems."

"It's no burden at all. Just give me a copy of the curriculum as it stands now. I can read it during lulls in my work, and in the evenings at home. I'll make notes and then I'll consult you, and you can adjust the course accordingly." Retta shrugged. "That way, you can use your time here to work on your research with Argider."

Quistis looked down and picked at her food, dangerously close to tears again. "I can't ask you to do that," she said. "It's my job."

"I'm not going to rewrite the thing for you. I'll just point you in the right direction. Think of me as an editor. Any author worth their ink has one, and no one argues that the finished product isn't still theirs."

"As long as you're all right with it," Quistis said, "I'd appreciate your help. Thank you, Retta."

"You're very welcome. Now, finish your food before it gets cold."

•·•·•·•·•·•·•

The next week and a half flew past. Argider received permission to go ahead with the research project, and on an expedited schedule to fit into the remainder of Quistis' sabbatical. The military, Argider said, was all too happy to receive new and possibly revolutionary information on blue mage training, especially when it came at no expense to them, since the project was Quistis' personal undertaking. Their only condition was that Quistis submit a proposal by the end of the following week.

So, Quistis found herself switching between two objectives. During the day, while Retta read and critiqued Quistis' curriculum in between her normal library duties, Quistis familiarized herself with the laboratory equipment and procedures, and pored over manuscript style manuals to prepare her proposal. At night, she looked over Retta's notes and made the necessary adjustments to her curriculum. She submitted both the revised curriculum and the proposal on the same morning.

Cid's reply came the next day, thanking her for the revisions, and, predictably, requesting that she revise the previous two sections of the curriculum, as well, albeit on a more forgiving schedule. Keeping Retta's advice in mind, Quistis decided to revise these herself; meanwhile, for fear of falling into the same predicament again, she used her idle time at the library to research and begin drafting the final section of her curriculum.

She told herself there was nothing wrong with the pace at which she worked, even as she fought to stay awake and the words blurred in front of her. She removed her glasses and pressed her palms against her tired eyes.

"You know, it's okay to take a break," Argider said, setting aside the paperwork he was going through.

"No, it's not," Quistis answered, resuming her task, flipping through books and furiously scribbling down notes. "There's work to do. Besides, I was quite used to working at this pace until a few years ago." She jotted down a phrase on her notepad and tore off the sheet. "Do you know where I might find items pertaining to this?"

Argider walked over and took the paper from her, but didn't move toward the shelves or his computer. "You're going to burn yourself out."

"I'm not. I admit, it was irresponsible of me to take on another large project before finishing the first, but I'll be okay. I'm responsible for my irresponsibility."

"I'm slightly disturbed that I actually understood that. Nevertheless, perhaps you should set this aside for a while and work on preparations in the lab, instead."

"What for? I've already learned how the necessary equipment works, how to run the simulator and prepare the subjects for testing. What other reason do I have to go there at the moment?"

"To get away from this." He pulled the book out from under her nose.

"Hey!" She stood up and tried to take it back, but he held it just out of her reach.

"Listen, I know you have to meet your obligations to Garden. But taking a day or two away from them won't hurt. I don't want you to be an overworked wreck by the time you begin the experiment."

"I'm fine. I know my limits."

"You sound like a drunkard."

Quistis scowled at him, trying to find a suitable retort. But his statement made a strange kind of sense. "Maybe I am, in a way," she conceded. "Productivity is addictive."

"Then it's my duty as your friend to intervene."

"Friend?"

"Fine, advisor, colleague, whatever." Quistis saw one corner of his mouth turn up. He was enjoying this! Maybe there was an amusing element to it, and it certainly had woken her up, but she had her pride. She couldn't back down.

She took a step toward him and held out her hand. "The book, please."

"You really are serious about running yourself into the ground."

"The book."

"You're very stubborn. Has anyone ever told you that?"

It was her turn to smile. She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. "I prefer the term 'tenacious,'" she said. "And yes, I've been told that it's one of my better qualities."

"Really? By whom?"

"Give me the book."

"Argider, this package ca – " Retta walked through the shelves, carrying a large envelope, but stopped short when she saw Quistis and Argider standing there grinning at one another. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said in a sly tone.

"No, I'm glad you're here, Retta," said Argider, not taking his eyes off Quistis. "Perhaps you can talk some sense into Ms. Trepe." He explained what their exchange had been about.

"I think Quistis' approach is a very prudent one," she said.

"Ha!" said Quistis. She snatched the book from Argider's hand, then sat down again.

"But Argider has a point," Retta continued. "You have to consider your well-being. What good is it to work so hard if you become too ill to finish anything?"

"Mm-hmm," Quistis murmured, pretending to be absorbed in what she was reading. She could practically feel Argider smirking at her.

"Anyway, before I got roped into playing mediator," said Retta, "I came back here to give you this. The courier just brought it. It's from the Department of the Military, so it's either the contract you've been waiting for, or orders for Argider to reenlist."

"Well, I do cut a dashing figure in a uniform," Argider quipped, taking the envelope from Retta and opening it. He glanced over the cover letter, then sat down beside Quistis and began reading the contract aloud, clarifying jargon as he encountered it. When he finished, he slid it over to her.

"There you have it," he said. "They've approved your proposal, and are able to supply the test subjects at the beginning of next week, for a period of two weeks, four days a week. What do you say?"

Quistis stared at him, then at the contract. She went over it page by page, biting her lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to come out, drawn forth by the thrill of accomplishment. They'd approved her proposal. The project was really going to happen. She reached for a pen and signed on the line above her name.

"It sounds good to me," she said, handing the pen to Argider so that he could add his own signature, as supervising party. Then, he turned to her and extended his hand.

"Congratulations," he said. "You're now officially a scientist."

Quistis thanked him and shook his hand. Retta, who'd been watching in silence, now gushed forth congratulations for Quistis.

Quistis thanked Retta, then flipped back through the contract. "Twenty mages," she said with a sigh. "That'll require a lot of processed items."

"Don't tell me you're getting intimidated," Argider said.

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Never."

•·•·•·•·•·•·•

When Quistis entered the library on the first day of the experiments, Retta looked up from the book she was processing for a patron and grinned. "Ah, the esteemed researcher arrives," she said, then gestured toward the back of the building. "Your subjects await."

"Already?" Quistis asked, excusing herself to the patron.

"Don't worry. Argider got here a little while ago and corralled them into the laboratory."

Quistis thanked Retta and hurried to the stairs, hearing Retta explain herself to the patron as she did so.

Argider was leaning against a table, arms crossed, having a lively conversation with the other blue mages in the laboratory when Quistis arrived. He smiled at her and straightened.

"And here she is," he said. "Ms. Quistis Trepe, the lead researcher on this project. She'll be administering the various skill-bearing items to you and putting you all through your paces. Please cooperate with her to your fullest extent."

As a unit, the twenty blue mages assembled in the laboratory stood and saluted. Quistis raised her eyebrows and glanced at Argider, but he shrugged and shook his head to indicate that this was not his idea. Quistis turned back to the mages.

"Good morning," she said. The mages stood at ease. "I apologize for being a few minutes late. Perhaps Argider has already explained the scope and purpose of this experiment to you?"

"Nope," Argider said. "You're the lead researcher. It's your show from here on. I'm just here in a supervisory capacity, to make sure nothing gets blown up, and –" he hiked an eyebrow – "to make sure none of these fine young men – or women – get any ideas." A nervous titter rippled through the group.

Quistis took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, trying to envision herself at the front of a Garden classroom once again. "Well, in that case, allow me to explain. As I conducted research for a separate project, it came to my attention that there was no readily available information comparing the efficacy of various methods of introduction of skill-bearing items across all known blue magic skills. As far as I could find, the experiments detailed in the texts available to me simply tested whether one particular method of introduction worked for each individual test subject. Since all of you are Estharian, I assume that the only method of introduction you have been offered has been the ingestion of distillates, am I correct?"

The mages nodded.

"And in some cases, those distillates did not teach you the corresponding skill, also correct?"

They nodded again.

"The purpose of this experiment is to fill in the gaps in your skill sets via alternative methods of introduction." She nodded to Argider, who handed a stack of papers to the mage in the far corner and instructed him to take one and pass on the others. "You are now receiving a short survey listing the twenty most common blue magic skills. Please indicate which skills you have learned, which you failed to absorb through a distillate, and which you have yet to attempt to learn. This will help me sort you into appropriate groups, and help the experiment to proceed smoothly."

From the completed surveys, Quistis began sorting the mages into groups based on the skills they hadn't learned, being mindful to not schedule groups with any shared members immediately before or after one another, to give the mages time to recuperate between tests. She prepared the necessary items for consumption and tried to remain professional and impassive as she watched groups of highly-trained soldiers grimace and gag over the mixtures she administered. Their comrades, however, were not so gracious, openly laughing and jeering at them. Until it was their turn.

When it came time for testing, Argider assumed a post just outside the door to the testing chamber, from where he could alternately observe the ongoing process and keep a watchful eye on the mages remaining in the lab. Quistis sat at the control panel, adjusting the conditions within the simulator and monitoring the subjects' vital signs. She thanked the subjects after the test, logged the results, and retrieved the printouts detailing their responses to the simulated battle and the use of their newly-acquired skills.

After she had tested a few groups, Quistis settled into a comfortable rhythm. Outside of several phone calls placed sporadically from the front desk to the laboratory by Retta — messages and deliveries for Argider, her daily announcement that she was leaving and closing the library at the end of her shift – the world outside the laboratory seemed to drop away. After several days, Quistis figured out the number of tests she could fit into the daily schedule, and so began to select several groups a day and dismiss the remaining mages until their turns came. The process became smoother and more efficient, and the results were encouraging.

At the beginning of the second week, however, Quistis noticed calls coming through to the laboratory accompanied by a unique pattern of ringing that she recognized as that from Odine Laboratories. The conversations were always short once Argider answered, bordering on pointless, but the calls increased in frequency each day. Halfway through the week, they had become so disruptive that Argider simply disconnected the laboratory telephone for the rest of the afternoon.

"They must've caught wind of something going on over here," Argider said as he and Quistis straightened the stools at the tables after the mages had left, "and it burns them up that they're not in on it."

"Do you think we should have consulted them before beginning this project?" Quistis asked.

"Hell, no. Let them stew in their curiosity for a while." He laughed. "Like I mentioned to you before, all major research projects in Esthar eventually attract their notice. So, in a way, I'd say it's pretty flattering that your project has caught their attention." He became serious. "But you're still under no obligation to speak with them. You're running this experiment for the Estharian government; if they want to know what's happening here, they can wait to read the report."

Quistis nodded, but she was no longer as averse to the concept of Odine Laboratories as she had been. During her time in Esthar, she had begun to understand the intricacies of the country's structure, the sometimes contradictory alliances between its various sectors, and the "affiliation by necessity" that Argider had spoken of months earlier. She was beginning to more sharply differentiate between Dr. Odine's personal work and the work carried out under his patronage.

Still, she appreciated Argider's protectiveness, particularly as it represented a safe place to which to retreat should she eventually decide to directly interact with O. Labs and find herself in over her head. She told him as much and he chuckled.

"I do what I can," he said. "There aren't a lot of things a regular guy can do to help a SeeD woman. You all are pretty self-reliant. Since you don't really need a knight in shining armor, I'm forced to convey my gallantry through smaller gestures."

"Gallantry?"

"Alas," Argider said, placing a hand over his heart and adopting a dramatic tone, "my gestures are so small as to pass beneath the good lady's notice! Did you not see how I have scaled the tallest stepladders, battled the fearsome dust demons, and braved the caprices of the archive shelves, all so that you could have what you need?" He grinned at her.

Quistis laughed. "Oh my gosh," she said. "I once thought it might be too harsh to refer to you as a nerd, but now I think it might be just right!"

"Of course," he said, walking to her, still in character, "it would be far easier to demonstrate my valor by providing what the lady wants. But, unfortunately, she is silent on the matter." He looked down into her face, his smile grown soft. "So, what doth the damsel desire, that I might bring to her posthaste?"

Quistis felt the heat rush into her face, her heart hammering in her chest. What did she want? She stared at him, then let her gaze wander from his face down his torso, before turning away. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to feel his hands on her waist, wanted to know whether his lips were soft or had been roughened by the sun ...

She shook away the thoughts and felt her blush deepen. "Nothing she can't get for herself," she lied.

"Heh. Fair enough, I suppose." Argider went back to straightening the laboratory furniture. "But now that I think about it, I don't believe I've ever heard you ask for anything you wanted, not even an early lunch break. Why is that?"

"I don't like bothering others," Quistis said. "Like I said, if I want something, I'll get it myself. If I have to ask someone for it, then it probably was unnecessary to begin with."

"Interesting. Just remember, people aren't mind-readers."

"I know that. And they're also not resources for me to drain." She straightened the last stool, then looked up. "Well," she said brightly, "only two more days of testing to go. I'll admit, it'll feel strange not having those mages milling about."

"And tedious taking over the front desk duties again," Argider added with a frown. "It was far more exciting up here."

Quistis smiled, and the two of them segued into more mundane topics of conversation, locking away the tension and awkwardness behind the laboratory door when they were finished for the night.

•·•·•·•·•·•·•

The lone female mage in the final group of subjects removed the electrodes from her temples and grinned at Quistis.

"I'd like to thank you, Ms. Trepe," she said, "for running this experiment. Not only do I now have several new skills at my disposal, but I also understand how my powers work quite a bit better than I did before."

"I'm very glad that this was a positive experience for you," Quistis replied, "but I should be thanking you – all of you – for participating, especially on such short notice."

"Eh, it was no problem," one of the other mages said. "Spend a few weeks as a lab rat, or march around, follow orders and clean the mess hall? This was the easier, and more interesting, choice, by far."

The rest of the group murmured in agreement, then saluted as they exited the testing chamber and followed Argider to the exit. By the time Argider returned from locking the library doors, Quistis was already perched on a lab stool, going over the results of the tests. Having transferred the data to her computer, she slid it aside and focused on the printouts, letting it fall dormant.

Argider began straightening the stools and wiping down the tables. "Forging straight ahead, huh?" he asked her.

"Well, I figured that since we finished with the tests a couple hours early tonight, I should try to get a head start on interpreting the data." She looked at a printout and frowned.

Argider walked over. "Is something wrong?"

"Subject 17. He is the only one for whom both the distillate and the processed item failed. I ran him through the simulator with the rest of his group, though, just to see if the monitors might give me any clues as to why the skill didn't take. But everything looks normal."

"An outlier. There's one in every group, it seems."

Quistis glanced at him. "So what do I do with this data?"

"We can always call the subject in for another round of tests, if that would make you feel better," he said. "Alternatively, we could drop it altogether, or better yet, we can use it as a launching point for another study. At any rate, staring at the data all night isn't going to make it fit in with the others."

"Yes, you're right." Quistis sighed and took off her glasses. "I just need to make sure I don't miss anything. I've got one shot at this before I have to go back to Garden, and I need to know that I'm basing my conclusions on the best evidence I could gather."

"I know. And you're doing amazing right now."

She turned to face him. The stool on which she sat was high enough that her eyes were level with his chin. She looked up and smirked. "I don't care for your patronizing."

"I'm not patronizing you. I'm telling the truth. Within what, a month and a half, you've gone from a researcher on sabbatical to running your own experiment. You took the crash course I gave you in laboratory operation and turned it into a study that could revolutionize the way we approach and train blue mages."

"I didn't do it alone. You helped me."

"Not as much as you think. You really need to start taking credit for what you do. It's all right to be proud of your work, and it's all right to want recognition." He rested his hand on the table and leaned toward her, dropping his voice. "And it's more than okay to ask for what you want."

She looked at him, remembering their conversation from a few nights before, but still unsure whether the subtext she detected in his last sentence was intentional, or a result of her imagination running wild. Argider revealed nothing, but simply smiled at her, his face close enough to hers that she could see flecks of gold in his dark irises. The familiar sensations began stirring within her once again, the fluttering in her chest, the warmth that spread outward from her heart, each feeling growing stronger with every heartbeat, ultimately coalescing into something she could only describe as desire.

She reached out tentatively and touched his face, running her hand along the sharp angle of his jaw, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath her palm. He didn't pull away, and that was the only invitation she needed. She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.

Hers was a clumsy attempt, owing to inexperience, but it didn't seem to matter to him. He reciprocated, gently, his hand cupping her face, fingertips sliding into her hair. When they parted, Quistis shivered, the air around her suddenly cold in comparison to the flame the kiss had kindled inside her, a flame that refused to cool or diminish.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologize." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Are you all right?"

Quistis was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "I want more," she said, her final word muffled as she kissed him again. He obliged her with an energy that triggered in her a hunger she hadn't even known she possessed. She matched his intensity, then surpassed it, surprised when she heard a soft moan escape her. Argider broke away to trail kisses along her jaw, and she couldn't suppress a giggle when his lips reached her neck. She felt his lips stretch into a smile, but he did not abandon his path, setting off a series of sparks that electrified Quistis to her core. He planted kisses along her collarbone, and when he reached the base of her throat, he briefly flicked his tongue against the small depression there. Quistis gasped and shuddered, pulling him closer, her fingers clenching in his hair. He laughed against her skin, and she thrilled at the vibrations his voice sent through her body. His lips skimmed the length of her throat to find her mouth once more, but as his fingers slid up the nape of her neck, the telephone rang, startling them both.

The pattern of the ringing indicated the call was coming from Odine Laboratories. Again. "Dammit," Argider growled, disentangling his fingers from her hair. "I'm so sorry. I'll get rid of them as quickly as possible."

Quistis nodded, her voice having abandoned her. She watched him lift the receiver, his back to her, and sighed. Her body burned and trembled, and a faint, delicious ache overtook her most sensitive areas. She pressed her hands onto the table in front of her, trying to steady them, and looked around, her gaze coming to rest on her dormant computer.

The face Quistis saw reflected in its darkened screen was one she couldn't recognize as her own. Its cheeks were flushed, its lips full and bright. The eyes were heavy-lidded and dreamy, and sections of hair had escaped their proper places and draped over the shoulders. Quistis reached out to touch this unfamiliar reflection, but when her fingers brushed the screen, the computer flashed back to life, revealing the data she'd been processing. She blinked as reality rushed in, carrying on its back heavy doses of guilt and regret.

What was she doing? What the hell was she doing?

This kind of behavior wasn't like her at all. It was unprofessional and, she admitted, reeked of desperation. How had things gotten so out of control? What might have happened had the interruption not occurred? She hurriedly fixed her hair and straightened her clothes, then packed away her laptop and other materials and shrugged on her jacket. She had to leave now.

Argider, meanwhile, finished up his phone call and turned to her with a smile that faded as he registered the meaning of her appearance.

"I need to apologize," Quistis said before he could speak. "What I did was completely unprofessional."

"If that's the case, then so was my response," he said, "and I should apologize as well. But I really don't consider it a monumental transgression if both of us simply accepted what the other offered. Unless I misinterpreted the situation?"

"No, you were right. But the blame is all mine. I started it." She frowned. "I just feel so stupid. I'm here to work, not to –" She waved her hand, unable to even verbalize what had happened.

"And you have been working, hard, almost nonstop, since you arrived. So maybe you had a lapse in judgment. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"I appreciate that."

"But please, don't take all the blame. I would've reacted far differently if I hadn't wanted any part of it." He grinned and Quistis silently cursed as the flame inside her roared to life again. "The past few months working with you have been amazing," Argider continued. "You're smart, you're dedicated, and your insight has opened up a new branch of research. You're straightforward and articulate and — if you'll forgive me for being shallow — incredibly attractive."

"I don't believe you're being particularly rational right now."

"Maybe not, but I mean what I said. I really like you, and I consider myself very fortunate for having met you." As his words hung in silence for several moments, his smile transformed into a wince. "But maybe I misread the implications of what happened."

"No, you didn't. I feel the same way about you. The kindness you've shown me, the confidence you have in my abilities even when I doubt myself – no one's given me that before. And that's why I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if the nature of our relationship changes, those things will, too."

"No, they won't. Because they're the foundation for everything else."

Quistis sighed. "I want to believe you, but right now I'm too confused to make that decision. And this kind of uncertainty is the last thing I need when I have the project to complete." She looked in his eyes. "Please understand. Under different circumstances, maybe if the project was already finished, I might not feel so bad. But until then, I can't let my 'lapses in judgment,' as you call them, interfere with my work."

He nodded, serious. "I understand. But it's impossible to ignore what happened. So, what do we do now?"

"I was hoping you'd have the answer." Quistis shifted the weight of her bag across her shoulders. "But maybe … maybe it might be best if I took tomorrow off … to give us both a few days to cool down and think this through rationally."

"You're probably right." He leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You're not going to use this as an excuse to let the project die. You've worked far too hard for this."

Quistis smiled. "I promise," she said. "I promise I will be back here at the beginning of next week, and I will see this through, and I promise that somehow we'll figure out whatever in the world is happening between us, too." She nodded farewell and quickly walked out of the laboratory.

As she exited the library, however, the cold night air restored some of her senses, and she realized with a sinking feeling that her last promise might be impossible to keep.