sorry. forgot italics the first time; this chap is a repost.
A Shine Like Gold
Chapter 5: The Shadows of a Science
Thick rain poured from a dark sky, hammering against the windows, beating with the wild rhythm only storms could produce. Quistis had awoken to the storm. She lay in bed on her back, staring at the ceiling, something between a smile and a frown teasing her lips.
She was on the train again. After leaving Galbadia she had hopped an express and spent the night in Crux, a little border town in western Trabia with fantastic seafood. She'd spent the morning in Crux, enjoying herself at a little café (fantastic espresso, though the coffee cake left something to be desired) and poring over her notes (all one page of them). The overnight train had left briefly after lunch and would set her in front of Trabia Garden early the next morning. She had never minded sleeping on the train - she'd done it enough on mission, Hyne knew - but she still found herself thinking of distances in Ragnarok-time. Much different than normal-human-train-time.
She rolled over in the train bunk. She'd had the compartment to herself, for which she was mildly grateful. It was nearing sunrise, she noted, and her stop was shortly after. She stood and stretched, arching her back with a grateful sigh. It felt like every bone in her body was cracking. She stretched as she changed from her military sweats back into her SeeD uniform. Poor muscles needed a little activity, she noted, and wondered idly whether Trabia's Training Center was still in one piece.
Poor Trabia. Quistis had only seen it the once - that one visit still overshadowed by memories of memories, gifts from the faeries - and had felt for it with all her heart. For Quistis, it had been especially tragic: in her mind, it had been Balamb's own spirals and gleam lying in pieces on the ground. That vision alone had made her heart hurt. It had given her the first and sweetest pang of sympathy she could remember in quite a long time; and yet Selphie, undeniable Selphie, hadn't needed it. Quistis's admiration for the spunky and unstoppable little girl had increased tenfold.
In the back of her head, she wondered if she would have dealt so well with Balamb's destruction.
But Quistis knew that Selphie had enjoyed her foster life; she had spoken a couple times of her 'parents' in Trabia and her life with them. Garden had been a school to young Selphie. It had never been a refuge, a home, a place of safety out of mere necessity. Selphie had known she had another place with another family if she needed it.
Quistis had never had that safety net. Garden had been house and home and family and refuge all in one. She'd never had another option; if she'd lost Balamb, she would have lost her life.
She had never considered her own foster family an option.
Younger Quistis had once angrily told Younger Xu that she'd run away first, become a vagabond in Esthar, before she went back to that place. Xu had laughed, her mind full of proper little Quistis Trepe wandering in rags and a mask and doing a jig for luck under the full moon. Younger Xu had said that Quistis would be more likely to scold the other bandits for not dancing properly and had gone off on an amazingly accurate imitation of Quisty, informing those wayward vagabonds just how the lucky dance steps were performed. Younger Quistis had taken a pillow to Younger Xu's head.
Later, Younger Xu had asked what had been so wrong with Quistis's original family. Younger Quistis had made a horribly nasty face and replied simply: "They wanted me to be a girl."
Older Quistis's eyes refocused on the rain. Girl. Her sex had defined her life: ever since the day she had walked away from the orphanage forever. Her foster parents had been determined to make her the perfect little girl. She had disappointed, to put it simply. And then, at Garden, she had become one of few top females in an almost purely-male environment. It had been -
The phone rang, a shrill cry interrupting her thoughts. She reached down to her bag instinctively and pulled out that tiny communicator she had received with the laptop. The screen read Balamb Garden's identification number, so she flipped the on switch. "Trepe," she said.
"Morning," replied Xu's familiar voice; it was so fresh in Quistis's mind that she had to think twice to confirm that it really was her friend. "Where are you?"
"En route to Trabia," Quistis replied. Her scalp itched lightly and she had a brief fantasy of a hot shower and a large cup of coffee. "I thought I'd reported that."
"Damn." There was a faint crackle, either static or Xu's papers shuffling. "You're still on the damn train?"
"Yes ma'am," Quistis said, a note of amusement in her voice. "What's so urgent?"
Xu sighed. "Tilmitt-Kinneas mission's up," she said, definitely not laughing.
Quistis froze. "Finished early?"
"Gig's up," Xu replied shortly. "Cover blown, confrontation, the entire works. Just finished interrogation, first level."
"Confrontation?" Quistis asked sharply. "Details. What level?"
"Code seven," Xu replied. "They're okay, Quis. Our Deling City apartment's been blown to shreds, though."
Quistis let out a relieved bark of laughter. "Source?"
"Tilmitt's GF over-reacted, from what their report read," Xu said, amusement now coloring her normally direct voice.
"Damn Selphie and her explosion fetish." Quistis knew that Selphie's compatibility with Quezacotl had peaked, and she expected her friend's overzealous urges had become a part of the thunder bird's nature. "Long as they're alright. Mission results?"
A tapping traveled over the line, Xu's perfectly sharpened pencil echoing off the desk Quistis was picturing her at. "Two confirmed. One cleared. One in suspect. Interrogation completed." She paused. "Directive is to get you these mission details, Quis - ASAP."
Quistis narrowed her eyes in thought. "Forward them to Trabia," she said finally. "Headmaster's link there should be secure, right?"
"Right, can do," Xu replied. "Pick them up when you get there."
"Anything important?"
There was a longish pause. "It's an outside deal," she said finally. "Don't want to get into too much detail." Another pause. "Definitely tracked outside Garden, though."
Quistis debated asking her friend about her two hints -ever heard of "Elsevier"? - but decided to wait for the mission report. "Thought as much," she replied. "Nothing urgent?"
"It'll wait for you in Trabia," replied the smart voice on the other end. "Luck, Trepe. Out."
"Trepe out," she replied, as the whistle for the Trabia Garden stop blew.
Quistis gathered her things and stepped off the train. The storm had turned as the sun rose; it was now the light, chilling, prickly rain she knew would eventually turn to snow, paired with the kind of wind that skipped right through clothes and flesh and settled directly in your bones. Hugging her SeeD uniform jacket around her, she walked briskly to pick up her rental car. Throwing her suitcase in the back (and setting the case with her expensive toys gently in the seat), she adjusted the seat and took off for Trabia Garden. The dream of the shower manifested itself again, driven by the chilling frost in the tips of her fingers. Quistis added another cup of coffee and some scented bath gel.
It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming when she came over the final hill of the road. Trabia had certainly improved since the last time she had been there - the crumbling stones were now spotted with temporary caravans and office trailers, makeshift dormitories and a cafeteria on wheels. But its tragic grandeur remained: the Garden was no more. Shining, ethereal, castle-like Trabia with its two spiraling towers now lay in cracked pieces on the snow.
Quistis parked the rental, giving the return slip to the worker, and adjusted the collar of her coat in a lame attempt to combat that Hyne-awful wind. Gathering her things, she trudged through the slush of the parking lot (a space of lawn had been cleared for the purpose) and up into the nearest and largest building, hoping to Bahamut that it held someone who could direct her to a shower. Not only was she uncomfortable, the kind of discomfort that only spending a night on a train could produce; but she was freezing. At this point the fantasy was teasing the hell out of her. She considered adding a naked man or two - at least that would send it back to the realm of the unbelievable.
She opened the door and almost leapt in; the air was packed with freezing microscopic droplets of rain that gathered at her nose and ears like packs of Blizzaga-suffering mosquitos, and the daggers of the wind had sliced through her long legs. The door slammed behind her and she almost panted in the sudden heat wave, her glasses fogging immediately.
There was a light chuckle, and a woman's voice said, "I take it the storm's here."
"I don't know if you'd call it a storm," Quistis gasped, the warm air flooding her lungs, "but those of us from Balamb sure do." She removed her glasses, meaning to wipe them on her jacket; the jacket, however, was covered with a thin layer of water droplets. She gamely tucked them in her breast pocket and turned to meet her companion.
A friendly woman smiled at her from behind a desk. She was pale-skinned, with a pointed face and sharp blue eyes framed by black hair. Quistis warmed to her immediately; there was a playful flavor to her smile which was intriguing. Something about her bearing was a little off, however; something Quistis figured out as the girl emerged from behind the desk in a state-of-the-art wheelchair.
"Balamb?" she asked. "You'd be Quistis Trepe."
Quistis nodded with a smile. "Yes. I hope I'm not an inconvenience to anyone."
"Beh," the girl said, awkwardly wheeling herself back behind her desk. "This storm is more of an inconvenience. We've got plenty of rooms - t'ain't many people left here. I assume you saw them on your way in?"
"The trailers?" Quistis asked.
"Sure thing. Not pretty, but they're nicer inside than you'd expect for a dorm on wheels." The girl flashed her a grin. "You won't be able to tell once you're inside."
"Fantastic," Quistis said. "You wouldn't happen to have - networking in the dorms, would you?"
The girl made a face. "Yeah, right. Library was apparently at the bottom of the heap. All of Trabia is running off wireless from this office - trailer - actually. You could connect here or in one of our administrative wings."
Quistis, catching the girl's grin, asked: "Wings?"
"Companion trailers," she said with a snort. "Whatever. We like to pretend that we're a fully functional administration." Her eyebrows lifted in remembrance. "Oh, bloody Ifrit. Sh- Headmaster Shain is in meetings all morning. He won't be able to see you until later, after lunch."
Quistis allowed a smile to cross her face. "Fantastic," she repeated. "I think I'd have someone's child for a shower and a cup of coffee."
"An interesting offer," the girl said with an amused grin, "but I can understand. Our storms have been known to do worse." She turned to a computer, tapping away quickly. "I feel like a hotel clerk checking reservations, but - we do have a room reserved for you, C-wing, C-37 to be exact. There's a shower in there, cafeteria's attached, and whatever you want to do about that child thing is your own business."
"Thank you so much," Quistis replied, every bone in her body aching for the hot water. "I really appreciate it."
"No worries," the girl said cheerfully, wheeling herself a little closer to hand Quistis a plastic ID card much like the one she had received in Galbadia. "You'll have to go back outside, but only for a bit - down to your left, it's the trailer with the big 'C'. Should I make you an appointment with the Headmaster?"
"That'd be great," Quistis said.
The girl studied the scheduling book and then nabbed a pencil. "I've filled his afternoon for you," she said with a grin. "He has filing to do anyways - show up whenever you want." She gestured at a closed door behind her, decorated by a thin golden plaque.
A little shocked at her audacity, Quistis paused. "All afternoon?"
"How else am I going to get him to do his work?" the girl asked with a cheerful grin. "I may be the secretary, but he can't just throw a mess at me and expect me to know everything. Especially with things marked 'Top Secret'. Don't worry, I do it all the time."
"Have you worked for him long?" Quistis asked, amused.
The girl smiled wanly. "Since the bombing. This" - a grimace and gesture at the wheelchair - "keeps me from doing anything else. They stuck all the cripples at desk jobs."
Quistis winced, hardly knowing what to say. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she said.
But the perky girl smiled at her, a spunky spirit which suddenly reminded her of Selphie. "No worries," she said. "So many people were hurt much worse, or died, or lost someone they loved. I was lucky. And I'm gonna keep thinking about it like that."
"Good for you," Quistis said, a real smile spreading across her face. What a friendly personality. She liked the girl already. If only all the Gardens had spirit like this.
"You'd better go take that shower," the girl said, waving at the door. "You look prime to fall over, Miss Trepe."
"Thank you so much," Quistis said, picking up her bag and bracing herself for the bone-chilling wind. "I'll be back after lunch, then. And many cups of coffee."
"Shain has his own coffee-pot, don't worry," the girl called at her back.
The promise of hot water drew her through the wind; she quickly spotted the trailer marked with a "C" seemingly constructed from electrical tape. She let the door scan her card; the light flashed from red to green, and Quistis moved faster than she thought she had ever moved in her life. She was vaguely sure that Ultimecia had been worse than the cold - but only barely. Edea's own Ice Strike could learn a thing or two from the Trabian wind.
As her frozen limbs came back to life, she headed down the hall, scanning left and right until her quick eyes found room 37. The door scanned her card, approving her with a chirp, and finally Quistis was inside. Nothing stood between her and her warm shower.
She peeled the soaking wet SeeD uniform off piece by piece until she stood, shivering and slightly damp in only her bra and panties. For a fraction of a second she looked guiltily at the symbolically discarded pieces of the uniform she wore every day, which were now giving her a mocking yet slightly damp glare from where they lay, strewn across the bed. She'd have to wash them later - she wanted warmth, and she wanted it now.
The hot water beat into her skin with gentle force, a storm Quistis welcomed gladly for a change. She remained motionless, the heat seeping through her skin. She could feel it diffusing into her bones. Not for the first time, she thanked the laws of thermodynamics.
After thoroughly thawed, she concentrated on washing the train-born stiffness from her muscles. For a few brief minutes Quistis vaguely teased the notion of spending the rest of the day in the hot shower, letting everything related to Garden and treason and subterfuge slip past her like the streams of water over her skin. The thought of crumbled Trabia brought her back to her senses: not only did her sense of loyalty realize Trabia needed assistance, but her sense of practicality admitted that Trabia might soon run out of hot water.
She wrapped one thick towel around her dripping hair and, quickly patting her limbs dry, wrapped a second around her slim waist and slipped out of the steamy bathroom. Her damp, chilled, and slightly insulted SeeD uniform was waiting for her, still in its crumpled pile on her bed. She glared at it as she threw her suitcase open, pulling out fresh undergarments. Dry clothes caught her eye.
Quistis dug through them, cursing loudly. Somewhere in here were her Garden-issue slacks; the women received a feminine version of the male trousers, though they were less popular. Her own pair would be wrinkled to Hyne's Green Heaven and back, but they would do - much more nicely than the storm-dampened skirt. Headmaster Shain - whoever he was - would have to deal with wrinkled slacks.
She finally found them, paired with her second uniform blouse. The jacket was hopeless - no one received two jackets - but hopefully the blouse would fend off the dampness. Finally beginning to pick up a chill, she threw on the dry clothes, reveling in their warmth. Dry socks followed. Quistis only glanced at her sopping-wet uniform flats; her battle-boots emerged from beneath her suede leather fighting outfit.
She looked longingly at the battle-gear: leather of some northern dragon, worn soft and smooth by time and usage. It was a warm, neutral shade: a combination of rose, peach, and coffee, with darker mocha gloves and boots. Quistis loved it. But it wouldn't do to meet a headmaster in one's battle-gear. Uniform was required by protocol.
Deftly she pinned her hair to the top of her head, then tossed the wet jacket over her shoulder and went off in search of a path to the cafeteria.
It was easy to find; bold signs at the ends of each hall directed the wayward around Trabia's remains. Quistis was content to pick up a large cappuccino and a bagel, resting in the little café-trailer attached on the end of trailer C and reveling in warmth and dryness.
Finally the relaxation got the better of her; her mind, unused to breaks, was ready to apply itself back to her mission. She stopped in the room to pick up her briefcase and then (cursing under her breath as she struggled into the clammy jacket) headed back to the Headmaster's trailer.
The young girl behind the front desk was gone; still out on lunch, Quistis supposed. But the Headmaster's door was open, and she heard tell-tale signs of motion. She did have an appointment; and besides, she had to pick up the mission report Xu had sent through for her. Taking a couple quiet steps past the desks, she positioned herself in front of the door with a polite knock.
The man inside had been sorting through an overstuffed bookshelf; he looked up at the knock, and Quistis found herself momentarily frozen in shock. Bright green eyes met hers boldly and inquisitively. It took her a few seconds to realize that this dark-haired student was quite high on the list of most attractive people ever. That realization alone made her blink.
But for being a student, he seemed rather old. Maybe he was a fellow Instructor; he was perhaps a few years older than she. His eyebrows deepened into a frown, and a soft black curl fell into his face. Quistis noted briefly that he was wearing a soft gray sweater and khakis - not the Headmaster, then; much too young. An Instructor, or administrator of some sort, on a day off.
She realized that he was staring at her intrusion. "Can I help you?" he asked, rather bluntly.
"I'm sorry," she said, absently smoothing her slacks. "I'm looking for Headmaster Shain."
An eyebrow rose, elegantly. "I'm sorry, but I have appointments all afternoon," he said. "You can make an appointment with Cassie for tomorrow, maybe - isn't she at the desk?"
At the desk? "I spoke with her this morning - she said I had an appointment this afternoon." She paused, the pieces suddenly coming together. Her mind produced two coherent thoughts: he thinks I'm a student collided with this is the Headmaster! and left her brain momentarily stunned.
His eyes lit up with surprise as he, too, figured out the situation; he stood and ran a hand through his dark hair, grinning. "You're Trepe, then. Instructor Quistis Trepe, from Balamb? I'm sorry, I recognize you now. Those pictures didn't do you justice. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Bemused, Quistis shook his hand. In the back of her mind she had been imagining Headmaster Shain Sheridan as, well, a typical headmaster: Era Maxus, perhaps, wearing Cid's sweater-vest and telling Martine's stories. This gorgeous kid belonged in SeeD ranks, not in the office. He was - well, a kid. Casual through and through. He's wearing a sweater and khakis!
"I'm so sorry," Headmaster Shain was saying. "Cassie had mentioned that you came in frozen over and ran off to thaw first. I expected you to show up wearing sweats and sweaters, honestly."
Quistis managed to smile and be insulted at the same time. It would've been a great breach of Garden protocol to introduce one's self to a Headmaster - or any ranking officer - in anything less than uniform. She was close to embarrassed to have her own uniform wrinkled. But she made a quick mental note: Shain doesn't seem to subscribe to propriety. Perhaps next time she got soaked in the wind she could get away with her battle-gear.
She noticed Shain looking at her face oddly, and realized that she had not yet spoken - or released his hand. "It's nice to meet you," she said, giving him a polite smile in return. "I believe you also received a transcript for me this morning?"
Headmaster Shain blinked, retrieving his hand to run it again through his hair. "Did I?"
She remembered he had been in meetings all morning. "The results of the Tilmitt-Kinneas mission, sir."
"Tilmitt-Kinneas mission," Shain mused. "Yes - the one that started it all, right? Your own mission was formulated from what we predicted out of this one." He headed over to the fax machine, and Quistis noticed with distaste the relatively large stack of papers. "Let's see what we've got." He paged through the pile, pulling out two packets and setting them on a cluttered desk. "Neatly stapled, too - Hyne, that machine is the best. Here you are, Instructor Trepe."
Quistis reached out to receive her copy. "I've been in meetings all morning," Headmaster Shain said as he sat behind his desk, "so I haven't had a chance to peruse it either. Pull up a chair, Instructor. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"
Quistis noticed as she sat that the only remotely clean area of the office was a shrine to the Headmaster's coffee-maker; her mouth tweaked in a smile. "Yes, sir," she replied as she sat. "Thank you."
She began to skim the document as Shain got to work with the coffee. Her eyes devoured the cover page urgently, looking for detail. SeeD cadets Vanesa Adair, Trabia and Darik Halbred, Galbadia, caught guilty in acts of subterfuge against Garden and against fellow SeeD. Dall McCloud, Trabia, cleared of charges. Astra Baker, Galbadia, found associate of the guilty party.
The following section contained the summary from active SeeDs Tilmitt and Kinneas. Quistis scanned the statements from Selphie and Irvine describing the relative incompetence and rivalry of the SeeD cadets in question and the confrontation that ensued. The next page contained Xu's more thorough examination of the cadets. Quistis skipped to the conclusion page; she knew how Xu worked. The conclusions could be concise and direct, and she could read the details later, when she had more time.
SeeDs Adair and Halbred were contacted by an outside organization asking intimate questions about garden protocol. Subjects responded and email communications began. Organization never personally contacted students and never used the same email address twice. Adair and Halbred give organization name as Elsevier, but gave no further information, citing lack of information themselves.
Quistis sighed in triumph. "Two sources," she said, stabbing the paper with a finger.
"Eh?" She had forgotten about the Headmaster, who was reading over her shoulder, holding two steaming cups of coffee. He offered one to her, which she took gracefully, sipping carefully; it was rich and delicious. "Two sources of what?"
"Confirmation," Quistis said. "You know the rules: mentioned once, rumour. Mentioned twice, fact. Mentioned three times, confirmation."
"What are they mentioning?" Shain asked, taking his seat.
Quistis momentarily narrowed her eyes in thought. Shain's face held none of Era Maxus's quirky interest; he seemed more determined, focused on the facts. Besides - Cid had told her to trust the Headmasters.
"Ever heard of an organization by the name of Elsevier?" she asked him.
His eyes narrowed similarly. "Yes. Why?"
"Well, I haven't. But they're apparently the ones behind this. Two sources: once in this report, confirmed, and once in an email I tracked back at Galbadia."
"Aren't those the same source?" Shain sipped his coffee. "The email was to one of these students, I assume."
"Yes," she replied, "but no. This report is one source: vocal confirmation to Investigator Xu under interrogation. Second source is the tracked email. One could be forged or a lie - but we use the evidence to support the confession."
"The force of reason," Shain mused, stirring the cup in front of him.
"Exactly," Quistis said. Her sharp mind then presented her with a fact that had slipped her attention: "You've heard of Elsevier before?"
"Yes ma'am," Shain replied. "We've had trouble with them in the past - well, one branch - it was way before my time but ...hey, Cass!" The last was yelled towards the door.
Quistis saw the friendly young woman in the wheelchair slowly maneuver herself through the door. "Yes, sir?"
Shain gave her a smile. "You remember what happened to that Elsevier report?"
The girl cocked her head. "Which, sir?"
Shain stood up and headed to one of many filing cabinets along the walls. "It got pulled out of the archives after the bombing, remember? Then, when we cleared everything up about the source, they just vanished."
"Well, I put them away, sir," Cassie replied smartly; "you hadn't so much as touched them in weeks."
Quistis watched Shain and Cassie bicker, intrigued and amused. The direct, pointed segment of her mind wanted the data; if Elsevier had caused trouble before, why weren't they on the list of Garden Suspect? The other part of her mind watched the relationship between the Headmaster and his secretary. Headmaster Shain was much more casual and easy-going than any other Headmaster she'd ever met. Plus, it was obvious that the young girl was partially in love with him.
Finally the pair pinpointed the location of the files in question; Cassie went to retrieve them, and Shain returned to his desk, smiling. "I don't always send the cripple to do my work," he said with apology, "but if I try to protest, she gets angry."
"I heard that!" A voice sounded from the hallway, half amused and half insulted. "Do you want these files or not?"
"What would I do without you?"
She reappeared in the doorway, a pile of manila folders balanced carefully on her lap as she guided the wheelchair in. "Much better," she said with a winning smile for Quistis. "Your files, sir."
Shain paged through them as Quistis watched. "After the bombing," he explained, his eyes on the pages within, "we pulled out what we considered every possible suspect. Before we knew - who was actually behind it. I remember that Elsevier's file got pulled; rather close to the top, too."
"They were suspect?" Quistis asked sharply. "How so?"
"Well," Shain continued, his voice light, "this was before my time here, of course. Do you know anything about them?" She shook her head softly. "Ah, well that makes sense."
His fingers paused on the folders. "Elsevier began as a scientific research community: an organization dedicated to explaining the gifts of neomagic and sorcery. Back in their heyday they were more well-known than O-Lab; actually, Odine worked with them for a while, before he split."
"Research?" Quistis mused, eyes narrowing again. "How so?"
Shain glanced at her and then back at the folders. "You know - experimentation, publication, like any other science. The problem with Elsevier - apparently - was that very often their scientists mixed philosophy and science together. Ideals and facts don't always mix well. People began to argue about beliefs, and the organization began wasting its funding - and losing money."
"But what exactly did they research?"
Shain's small smile held no real joy. "They began in neomagic development, soon after the Draw technique became wildly popular. But from there they turned to actual sorcery - real, blood-based magic. Sorceresses."
"Oh." Her voice was flat.
"What happened was that Elsevier - the entire organization - was bought out. The man who bought them out was, again, more focused in ideology than scientific practice. He began a series of experiments that frayed the company to the point of destruction."
"What sort of ideology?"
Shain idly flipped through a folder. "They were the first Pro-Sorceress faction, Quistis. Their new President-"
"Pro-Sorceress?" Quistis sat up in her seat. "You're kidding, right? Everybody around is Anti-Sorceress - you know, they're dangerous, powerful, uncontrollable. Nobody would dare be Pro-Sorceress, sir - not now."
Shain nodded in agreement. "It started out as a good idea, in theory. They wanted to help Sorceresses develop their powers for the good of the world. You know," he said, smiling a little, "those with gifts like your friend Ellone could help people travel to the past and take care of their own demons. And a well-trained Dark Sorceress - your Rinoa Heartilly - could do plenty. A Sorceress with enough control could eliminate drought and famine, cure plague. That's the kind of thing they wanted - in theory."
"But theory-land and real-life don't always mix," Quistis said quickly, and Headmaster Shain nodded. "So this pro-Sorceress science went where?"
"Well, instead of helping Sorceresses develop, Elsevier decided they could develop the Sorcery powers themselves. So they began hunting Sorceresses."
Quistis's eyes narrowed. "Hunting."
"And that's where they came to us," Shain said, long fingers selecting one folder from the bunch and placing it on the table between them. "Someone at some point leaked that the point of Garden was to defeat the Sorceresses."
She took a second to put the pieces together. "So they labeled Garden as Anti-Sorceress - figured we were a threat to their goals. If we eliminated the Sorceresses..."
"They'd never get to their powers, yes." Shain stared down at the folder, his voice suddenly low. "A couple years back - when Abrya was still Headmaster - they were sending threats against Trabia. Wanted us to discontinue SeeD so that they could capture the Sorceresses and do things with their magic. Nothing came of it; they're much too dissociated now to cause any real damage. But their file was pulled when we got bombed; for a while, we thought it might have been them."
Quistis reached out, her long fingers resting atop the manila folder between them. "Am I allowed to take this?" she asked carefully.
Headmaster Shain looked up at her and gave her a handsome grin, his dark mood dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. "Of course."
She ignored the grin. "I mean - is it confidential?"
"Of course it is," he replied. "But I can release it at my discretion, and I think this is a situation where the information will be useful. Take that and do only good with it."
"I'll try not to hit anyone with it," Quistis said sarcastically as she tucked it into her briefcase along with the report from Xu.
"Just make sure it's the right person," Shain said, grinning at her again.
"Do you have someone in mind?" she shot back, reaching for her coffee.
Shain laughed out loud, a deep and friendly chuckle. "I can think of plenty of people who could use a good swatting," he said with a playful smirk, and then added: "but I'm sure you can as well."
"I know a few," she said, answering his smirk as she lifted the cup to her lips.
"Only a few?" Shain reached for his own cup. "I'm disappointed in you, Instructor Trepe."
"You be careful," she said with a slow smile, "or I'll add you to the list."
Shain chuckled again. "I had assumed I was already there."
Quistis burst out with a quick laugh. "In that case," she said, reaching for the file again, "just stay still for a second-"
"A good move, Miss Trepe," Cassie called from the door, interrupting the reverie. "All the pretty girls say that. Sir, there's a call for you on line two from Deling City. I think it's financing. Shall I take a message, or are you available?"
"Well, you could tell them I was busy being swatted," Shain began, but Quistis stood.
"No worries, sir. I have enough work to do as it is."
His eyes met hers, a playful gleam still present, and Quistis couldn't help but smile. At the same time, she felt an odd pang of worry. Headmaster Shain was so - different. How had this fun-loving, casual, drop-dead-gorgeous jokester become the Headmaster of Trabia Garden? Who had put him in charge? And was the personality genuine, or a front?
"Alright, Cass," Shain said with a resigned sigh. "I'll take the call. Instructor, I'll talk to you later, I assume."
"I appreciate your help," she replied with a smart salute, and left the office.
Back in her own room (accompanied with a fresh coffee from the caf) she spread the papers out on the bed. She had immediately changed into her fleece pants and a soft long-sleeved t-shirt. Curled up with her mission report, the details of Elsevier's past spread around her, she got to work.
Somewhere in the stack of papers in front of her was the answer. Something would connect and give her a direction. It was up to her to put the pieces together.
Quistis Trepe loved a good puzzle.
Beh. This chapter was pretty long. Then again, I owed you all a large portion of story.
I do have an announcement to make, explaining why my usually frantic story-writing has been less than frantic recently. In two weeks, I'll be moving to Delaware. I've accepted a great offer for a co-op job with DuPont (basically, I take a year off of school, earn money and get loads of experience, then go back and finish my degree), and my summer has been pretty hectic putting things together. The next two weeks or so promise to be even more hectic: not only do I have to continue to work my 40/week and finish up two simultaneous projects at work, but I have to get everything together to move my life down to Delaware and start the new job. I love you and I love Quistis, but the chances of me settling down in front of my computer to write are slim. I have a paper to finish on hemoglobin, and although that's a lot more boring than this, it's also paying me. You probably won't hear from me for another two weeks while I get my life in gear (hence I wrote a bunch for this chapter).
Feel free to wish me luck, I certainly need it ^^. If anyone knows super sweet things to do in the northern-Delaware area (I'll be in Wilmington), please send them my way.
I'd like to thank everyone individually, but I'm writing this in Delaware right now (came down to look for a place to live, figure that's kind of important, plus the sitting-in-the-hotel thing gave me lots of writing time) and so I can't get on the Internet. I appreciate all the wonderful comments, though; I hope you'll all hang around and wait for me to continue.
Sneak Preview!! Totally awesome and stuff!!
In the next chapter, Quistis actually does something nice for Rinoa and discovers the identity of the mysterious man called "Gray". And then she drinks some coffee. Who would have guessed?
Alright, stay cool. Email me with anything fun.
Seventhe