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Disclaimer: I don't own FFVIII, and all that jazz. Now, let's carry on, shall we?

Save Yourself

Chapter One

...Cause I want to learn

Can you save yourself?

For someone who

Loves you for you

Who loves me for me

So many times you just give it away

For someone who

Can't even remember your name…

So you save yourself

For someone who loves you for you

Loves me for me

Give it away

To someone who, someone who

Will cherish your name…

"That was Save Yourself, by Sense Field. Coming up next is a set of three with The Cactuars, 50 Gil and Doomtrain, after an update on the weather. Remember you can call our weather hotline for up-to-date, accurate 3-day forecasts. Our number is 1-800-857-2562. You're listening to BLMB 99.3, Balamb's official light rock station!"

She reached out a sleep-disoriented hand. In one languid sweep, she sent the alarm clock, as well as half the things on her dresser, crashing to the floor. Snapping to her senses, she tossed aside the bedsheets and see the damage. Ironically, this was probably the messiest her one-person dorm had ever been.

"Shoot…Hope that contact cleaner will come out of the carpet." She sifted through the other remnants, including her small collection of jewelry, assorted writing utensils and Save the Queen. Once coming to the conclusion that nothing was broken, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and continued her morning routine. Couldn't get back to sleep now even if I wanted to, she thought grimly.

She wasn't even fully awake until the coffee maker 'pinged' to life. Over the stress of getting her teaching license back, she had developed an unhealthy addiction to the stuff. It was like a friend of sorts, comforting her on her late nights reading and preparing for classes. Oh, her classes…She mainly taught simple weapons combat, especially the whip, as well as Basic and Advanced Juntioning. Every other day she went to the GF training centre and let students work with them for short periods of time. Teaching, going on the odd mission, being a figurehead in the Garden as a participant in the Second Sorceress War and as the youngest instructor…Quistis had everything she ever wanted.

Or did she. Sometimes on those nights she spent tapping away on her laptop, sipping coffee and glancing at the clock every so often, watching as it flashed 2:00AM, then 3:30 AM, she began to wonder if there was something more out there for her. If there was someone out there for her. But the thoughts would fade as she printed out the latest mission report and settled down for a restless 2 hours of sleep.

The concealer worked wonders. No one could notice the dark rings under her eyes with a dash of fleshtone powder. Looking in the mirror, her exhausted ice blue eyes stared back at her, clearly expressing her fatigue, but at least she no longer looked like a raccoon. She scanned the top of her dresser, looking for a hair clip. I could do something different with it, she thought, maybe a braid, maybe let it out for once…the thoughts died as quickly as they came, as she tied her hair in the ever-Quistis style, leaving some strands in front and tying it back. Same thing she did yesterday morning, most likely the same thing she would do tomorrow morning, give or take a cup of coffee.

She sighed, adding a bit more powder and drinking the last of her caffeine-loaded sludge. Zipping up the front of her peach-colored suit, and slipping on her burgundy gloves, she looked like the ideal Instructor Trepe: calm, cool, collected and not a hair out of place. The Ice Queen, she noted grimly, how could I forget. She made a mental note to clean the contact lens cleaner out of the carpet later, grabbed Save the Queen and headed for the 2F classroom.

"Instructor Trepe, can I have an autograph please?" Quistis forced a weak smile as she spotted the usual herd of 'Trepies' hovering outside her classroom door. Even with her license being taken away and given back, her notorious fan club never died.

"Not this morning, please. Meet me after class and we'll talk then." She stepped forward into the doorway. In her peripheral vision she could've sworn she saw a girl swoon – at the mere concept of talking to her. It was pathetic…Quistis shook her head slightly and organized the day's lesson, shuffling papers and opening her books. Today was a demonstration of Time/Space Magic refining and junctioning. She stared down at the schedule.

T/S Mag Junct: Wizard Stones – ref to – Haste (have stud. cast Haste on each other)

Wonderful, all she needed was a classroom of students running around like monkeys on crack. Taking a pen from her desk, she neatly scratched out 'Haste' and replaced it with an equally neat 'Slow' and 'Stop'.

Continuing to write down the day's schedule, she absently minded the flow of students coming in, noting that none were late. At least she had an effect on her class, unlike previous years…she smiled wryly at the thought of her most memorable, and not in a good way, student, Seifer Almasy.

Oh, Seifer. Headstrong, stubborn, and enough ego and arrogance for a whole country. Talented with a gunblade, far from stupid in strategy and knowledge…Perfect in almost every aspect except attitude, which Quistis assumed ranked somewhere in the negatives. Tall, powerful, piercing and fiery green eyes that radiated his passion for battle, taunting and forcing opponents into submission. Short, slightly spiked blond hair, that she imagined would be soft if she ran her hands through it. Wait, this couldn't be Quistis Trepe thinking this!

A faded scar crossing his nose, marring his otherwise clear complexion. A mouth always twisted into a sneer or a smirk. The one soldier, or 'knight' as he was dubbed during the second war, that everyone loved to hate. A passionate man, no, only a teenager – struck down by following his dreams…

"Uh, Instructor Trepe?" Quistis snapped back to reality when a random student broke the silence like glass. Blushing a faint shade of red, she stood up and started passing out sheets of paper with information on juntioning Time/Space Magic, as if her mind had never drifted off the enthralling subject.

"Alright. Today class, we will learn how to refine Time and Space Magic from items and also learn how to junction and use it in battle. Time and Space magic can be refined from items such as Lightweights, or Wizard stones, using the 'Time Mag-RF' ability, which is an ability learned by the GF Diablos. Today we will be using M-Stone pieces to refine 5 Slow spells…"

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He was sitting on the docks, watching a fisherman retch into the harbor waters after eating a badamb fish. A dog had just recently rooted through a nearby dumpster, spewing assorted garbage on the pavement, which no one bothered to put back, or even notice, for that matter. Anything beyond the hotel had turned into a literal slum, filled with bad bars and hookers on the corners at night. Whoever made those touristy postcards expressing the beauty of Balamb obviously never lived in Balamb.

He crushed the can in his fist and chucked in into the water. It floated for a minute, then bubbled at the surface and sunk. Sort of like something he knew…the thought nagged at the back of his mind. He chose to ignore it and sifted through his tattered trenchcoat pocket for a few gil to get a drink, there was nothing better to do around here. Oh sure, he could get a job, he could travel around, he could do something with his life…then again, he could win the lottery just the same. It just wasn't worth the effort.

The nearest bar was, of course, a cheap run-down building, the sign blaring "Harbor Hopper's" and hanging on by a shred of rope. The paint was peeling, windows were cracked, but if it had cold beer it didn't matter to him. Opening the door (noting that it too, was about to fall off) he stepped into the establishment, letting a wave of hot air smother him.

The place was just as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. The bar was made from scrap lumber and had burn marks and phone numbers scrawled onto the counter, the cheap stools were either wobbling like a drunk man or occupied by one. He gazed past the bar, noting the horrible attempt at creating an fishing atmosphere; fishing nets placed here and there, and broken lobster traps stuffed in corners. Turning around, he came face to face with a grotesque stuffed seagull, confirming his decision to get the hell out of there.

I'll just grab a beer and run, he thought, this place stinks like sex and sweat and even I have standards…Pulling out the last of his Gil, bought a six-pack of beer that could have expired last week or last year, and got the hell out of 'Hopper's', leaving the smokers, alcoholics and hookers alone in their home. A wisp of heavy smoke followed him out of the bar, as if it wanted a breath of fresh air like he did.

He resumed his seat on the dock, opening a can and taking a long drink. He grimaced at the taste, but hey, alcohol was alcohol. It doesn't matter how it tastes, as long as it makes you forget what you've been trying for forget for a year, even if it's only for an hour…

The fisherman was still puking when Seifer finished the last can and threw it into the water to meet the same fate as the others.

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"Gee, thanks for the great lesson, Instructor Trepe. I really learned a lot today!" Quistis smiled at the junior classman, it always made her happy when someone actually enjoyed learning as much as she did. It almost made every day worth it.

"You're very welcome." She filed away the papers on Time magic. The class had gone smoothly, and the students had gotten a kick out of casting Slow spells on each other. She was a bit tired from using Diablos to refine the magic, she hadn't had to junction and use Diablos since the lesson on refining Status Recovery Medicine. Double-checking her schedule, she wrote down to run by the lab and drop of the GF before lunch, as well as to sign out Ifrit for the afternoon junior rifle class. It would be a convenient time to teach them how to refine ammunition.

As Quistis walked to the lab, her mind traveled back to Seifer. He had been convicted of countless counts of murder but was hiding, Hyne knows where. He could be dead for all I know, or care, she thought bitterly. She paused. Did she really want Seifer Almasy dead? Everyone else does, but it was all a misunderstanding. Few people could bring themselves to realize that Seifer was possessed during that time and had no control over his action. But no, they just turned him into THE criminal, THE man to kill.

She missed him. Quistis would never dare tell anyone this, why ruin her perfect façade? But she did, she missed his quick wit, their arguments – Seifer was the only one who could hold a candle to her in verbal fights – and behind all that arrogance and his stained hands, there was a man of gold. Too bad he never showed it to anybody, or things might have been different…What if he had opened up to you? Her mind asked.

"It's too late. He's gone now. He's gone forever." She said aloud. When she realized what she had done, she covered her mouth in embarrassment. A few students walking by stared at her strangely, whispering as they passed, no doubt questioning her sanity. Quistis shook her head. Seifer had been on her mind a little more than she'd wanted lately. Even her studies were suffering. She couldn't study gunblade tactics without picturing his lithe 6-foot body standing poised with Hyperion. She could see him fighting in her mind, every stab, swing and parry flowed together like a deadly dance.

Taking a seat on the bench outside the Training Center, she thought back to the days of the orphanage. Since cutting back on GF usage, her childhood memories had come trickling back like melting ice. She could remember vague memories of her home; the beach, the lighthouse and the vast fields of Centra Point. She could remember the people who lived with her; kind and gentle Matron, Ellone, the 'sister' to all of them, rambunctious Selphie, the loner Squall, sensible Irvine (hmm, some things do change, she thought), energetic Zell…and of course, wild Seifer…

Seifer and herself had been inseparable, best of friends Actually, looking back, she might have been Seifer's only friend. They did stuff like throw spiders at Selphie and watch her run away squealing. They went swimming, caught grasshoppers in the long grass on the edge of the sandy beach and looked for salamanders under rocks. She remembered when she built sandcastles in the sand, pretending she was the queen of the castle. Seifer would always pretend he was her knight, waving a piece of driftwood around as a make-believe sword before he eventually smashed her creation. That would usually be followed by a lively game of tag, leaving them tired, sweaty, and grass stained. Matron always marveled at the grass stains, Quistis vaguely remembered her saying she was only going to buy green clothes for her and Seifer so she wouldn't have to wash them twice a day.

She remembered the day they made the kites. Matron had given them some paper to draw on, but Seifer had found some string and sticks. They went down to the beach and colored the paper with stubby crayons, using wooden boards as makeshift clipboards.

She had never been much of an artist, but the kite stood out as one of her better pieces of art. She had drawn a blue bird, wings clipped by the edge of the paper, and under it, her name – a big waxy red 'Quisty'. Seifer had drawn himself with a sword…a badly drawn figure with the head much too big. (Quistis snickered inwardly, couldn't have been more accurate.) It was accented by green dots for eyes and a shock of yellow scribble for hair.

He had also written his name on his kite, an illegibly scrawled "Seifer". She remembered how much trouble they had getting them in the air, running wildly through the field, pleading to the wind to accept their kites, and their elation when they started to fly.

They had stayed in the field for hours, eventually laying in the tall grass, holding onto the strings and gazing up at their kites…the bluebird flying among the real ones, and the crayoned Seifer hovering among the clouds like a childish deity. It was a wonderful and memorable day…She wondered what it would be like to be that carefree again, where her only worry would be whether she could get a kite in the air, and whether she could get it to fly higher than Seifer's. Sadly, things had changed. She had changed, from a curious little kid to an instructor and an ice queen. Seifer had changed from her best friend to a public enemy, and was most likely dead. She cringed at the thought. The truth hurt, but did it have to hurt this much?

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Seifer woke up between two garbage cans. A mangy-looking cat was inches away from his face, with breath that could kill small animals wafting from its mouth.

"Beat it, cat!" he shoved the feline with a wide sweep of his arm, watching in irritation as it yowled and dashed off, knocking over yet another garbage can. "Damn it, how did I end up here?" He brushed the dirt and debris off his sleeves and coat, checking for Hyperion. It was, thankfully, still there. The last thing he needed was a drunk nut running around with HIS precious sword, the only thing left of his identity, the last thing he owned that made him Seifer Almasy.

"Heat stroke. You passed out, I dragged you over here." He looked over to see the once-puking fisherman leaning up against the wall, a shadow mostly, the sun was setting and he was in the darker end of the alley.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"You want to get pillaged by thugs while you're out cold? That's a real nice way to thank someone, by the way. I should've just left you there." The shadow moved and left him there alone. Alone, like he had been for 2 years…Friendless, hell he hadn't even gotten laid in months. Every day was a struggle to live, the only things that meant anything to him anymore were Hyperion and distant memories. What would Quistis say if she saw me now?

Quistis. Intelligent, (hell, intelligent doesn't do her justice, he thought to himself) organized and beautiful…But she was so cold. The Ice Queen, if he remembered correctly, after all, he was the one who dubbed her that in the first place. She never had a boyfriend, but Seifer expected that had changed since the end of the war. Quistis was the type that let nobody through her defenses. Seifer admired her for that, she was indeed a strong woman. Crystal clear blue eyes that danced with blue flames when they used to fight, back in the days when he was at Garden. She was different than any other girl he knew…she admired men for their wit and not their body. And he knew, from being in her classes so long ago, she had a great knack for making you feel very stupid.

He wondered if she still thought about him, or if she remembered any of the orphanage days. Like the day they spent a whole afternoon trying to catch fish with a branch, string and a paper clip – to no avail. He had ended up pushing Quistis into the water, laughing as she spluttered and flailed around in the water. It was only after she went under that he realized she couldn't swim. In a panic, he dove into the water and swam through the murkiness, panic seizing a little more of his tiny heart every second. He caught a glimpse of gold, and headed towards it…His eyes widened in relief, and he grabbed her shirt and pulled her close to him, swimming violently towards the surface.

He remembered his pitiful younger self crying her name over and over again on the beach, calling for 'Quisty' to wake up. When she finally coughed up water, he couldn't remember being happier in his whole life. He had hugged her, their first hug, and that very same day he promised he would teach her how to swim.

He ran a hand through his desperately-in-need-of-a-shower blonde hair. He hated to admit it, but he missed Quistis desperately. He needed to make up for everything he had done to her, Hyne, he had tried to kill her more than once when under Ultemicia's power…but she stood strong, Save the Queen in her hands and a determined expression.

Quistis was a forgiving person…but would she forgive him?

"That's it. I'm doing something with my life!" He shouted in the alley, scaring away various rodents in the trash bins and attracting stares from the passerby. The least I can do is see if Quistis would ever take me back…if not a boyfriend, then a friend at least. Hell, Almasy, you've changed, he thought. Before you couldn't give a shit about whether anyone from Garden lived or not, not you're being a weak fool and going back to someone who you know won't take you back?

"Shut up." He told the voice in his head. Seifer picked up his beloved Hyperion and headed for the train station. It was time to change his life.

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"As you should know, there are 8 types of ammunition: Normal, Shotgun or Scatter shot, Dark, Fire, Demolition or Canister shot, Armor Piercing and Pulse Ammunition. I would like a 500-word paper on how each type of ammunition can be used to your advantage in battle by the end of the week. Any questions? No? Alright, you may leave a little bit early today." Books thumped closed, computers beeped as students logged off, and excited chatter sounded the end of class.

Once the classroom was empty and blissfully silent, Quistis slumped over her desk, staring at her desk clock as it blurred in and out of focus. She was just nodding off when there was a beep at the classroom door. Her head shot up, and she fiddled with her hair trying to regain what little composure she had left. Selphie stuck her head in the door, her personality still as hyper and bubbly, and her hair still as gravity-defying as ever.

"Quis, we've been looking all over for you!" She was just about to ask who 'we' was but then Rinoa, Zell and Irvine tumbled into the room. They crowded around her desk like a swarm of Trepies. A glance to the door showed a few jealous Trepies glaring at the small group.

"Well, if you'd take the time to look at a clock, you'd notice that classes are still going on. I just happened to let my class off early today." Selphie glanced at Quistis' clock.

"Well whaddya know? Oh well. Anyway we're all going out tonight, and you're coming, whether you like it or not." Irvine, who had snaked an arm around Selphie's waist, nodded vehemently. Zell, having the attention span of a sardine, was already bouncing on his feet, punching an imaginary opponent on the other side of the room.

"Well, ok, I guess I can spare a few hours. I really have to finish this research paper on Shumi techno-"

"Geez, Quistis, live a little!" Irvine complained. "You're going to come with us tonight, and you're going to have a good time. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"…Fine, you win," Selphie and Rinoa cheered like some sort of ant chorus. She shook her head and hoped to Hyne this wasn't going to be a shopping trip. She glanced at the clock - 5:00PM…if they were gone only 5 hours, she could still finish that paper and manage a few hours of sleep. "So where's Mr. Whatever?" Rinoa giggled.

"Oh, he's busy as usual. Ever since he became the Commander of Garden, he's had no life whatsoever. I'm trying to convince him to take a vacation for once in his life."

"Like he had a life before?" Zell paused his air-punching long enough to get a word in. "Anyway, let's get going. I found this fantastic restaurant in Balamb. It's called 'Big Al's' and apparently they have these chicken wings so spicy that they call them 'Suicide Wings'! Sounds great, huh?"

"Sounds…charming." Quistis groaned and got out of her seat. "I just hope they have something on their menu that isn't slathered in grease or barbeque sauce."

"Somehow, I seriously doubt that." Irvine said in a low voice beside her as they walked down the hall, almost drowned out by Zell's graphic description of how the so-called "Suicide Wings" made him bleed from the ears the last time he ate them.

As the large Garden car pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like if Seifer was one of 'the gang' again. Would things be better? Worse? Different, of course. But right about now, she would give anything she had to have him here with her tonight. Wait, what was she thinking! She was Quistis Trepe, the Ice Queen. She couldn't think that way about a man she once despised, a man that tried to kill her and her friends! But it was Seifer…she didn't care, he was still her friend. He was still her knight, even if they were only the rulers of a sandcastle, left victim to the tide.

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The wind whistled through his hair as he hung off a boxcar. Too poor to buy a ticket, he opted for the next best option. The large bars on the side were perfect for holding onto, as long as you had endurance and strong arms. You'd be fine unless the train happened to go through any tunnels…fortunately, the train trip to Balamb Garden had none. He held the bar with his left hand, leaning off to the side with Hyperion swinging in his right hand, feeling free at last. The sun had set, its last rays glinting off the sword blade in a final show of its beauty.

…I'm coming home Quistis…

Rubbing his bruises from the painful jump off the train, Seifer scrambled to his feet and looked around. Good, nobody had seen him. Now, time to act nonchalant. Seifer, aside from Hyperion, which was a dead giveaway, was not so recognizable as he was before. The scar adorning his face was gone, his hair was longer and slightly spikier, and his once passionate green eyes had lost their luster. The gray trench coat and choker were long gone, he wore a plain black jacket and a Fire Cross pendant instead. Somehow, he managed to get in the front door and well into the Garden without someone yelling, "HEY, there's Seifer Almasy, the guy who killed hundreds of people let's KILL him!" somwhat of a miracle in itself. Breathing a sigh of relief, he wracked his mind trying to remember where Quistis's dorm was, hoping to Hyne that she hadn't changed it in the past 2 years.

She hadn't. Room 1719, Q. Trepe, Instructor, blared the sign on the door. A small grin played on his lips - she must hate that sign with a passion. Quistis never was one for drawing attention to herself. Clearing his throat, he knocked on the door. A second after his third knock, he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Somehow, "Yeah…so I guess I'm not dead then huh?" or "So, yeah Quis, I've been in hiding for the past 2 years because thousands of people want me dead, mind if I come in for a cup of coffee?" didn't seem like the most appropriate greetings.

There was still no answer. He rapped on the door a few more times. "Quistis?

Instructor Trepe? You there?" there was no answer. Great, what was he supposed to do, just WAIT here until she got back to her dorm, or worse, be discovered? Hyperion wasn't really hiding all that well. He knocked one more time for good measure, and to his surprise, the door opened. Glancing around, and seeing the coast was clear, he stepped inside.

The room was basically neat. It looked like she had some sort of accident this morning, a tipped bottle of contact lens cleaner was spilled, staining a large chunk of the carpeted floor. Everything besides that was so utterly Quistis. A laptop, poised between large, organized folders and stacks of papers. Books lined the shelves, and large bookcase beside her desk held the overflow. He ran a finger along some of the spines, reading the titles. "…Blue Magic: Legends through Time…Biology of Trabian Ecosystems…more boring crap…Fastitocalon Salads made Easy?" Seifer couldn't hold back a laugh as he put the book back in its spot. Running a thumb along the top of the bookcase, he noticed a heavy layer of dust on it, and pretty much everything in the room. Knowing Quistis, she was probably working late nights and never had time to really clean up – she could make the room look presentable, at least, but it needed a deep cleaning.

Seifer figured he owed her. Cracking his knuckles, and swearing to himself that there was no way in hell he would ever do this again, he searched her kitchen for some paper towels and cleaner. Keeping an eye and an ear on the door, and making sure the window was open for quick escape, he squirted the cleaner on the windows, desk, bookcase and dresser, wiping at least a month's worth of dust away. Once finished, he organized the papers on her desk, arranged the stuff on her dresser…his hands lingered on the bottle of perfume. He smelled it cautiously. It was the same scent that he had always remembered, it was Quistis. Not childhood Quisty, but older and wiser Quistis.

He quickly put the rest of it away, and now faced the stain on the rug. He had read somewhere that soda water got stains out of carpet, so it was worth a shot. He returned to the kitchen and searched the fridge, helping himself to one of the cans of Coke that resided there. He found a small bottle of soda water, pulled it out, and closed the door. As he walked through the kitchen, an idea popped in to his head: surely Quistis would like some coffee when she got home. He took 5 minutes to try and figure out the machine, but finding the coffee took no effort – Quistis had at least 3 cans of the stuff in her cupboards.

He had managed to remove the stain, by some miracle, and was watching it dry. He was sitting at her desk, holding a pen in one hand and the Coke in the other, trying to leave her a note, but trying not to sound too stupid or obvious. It was a challenge indeed, but then again, he was Seifer Almasy, and everyone knows that Seifer Almasy never backs down from a challenge. Drinking the last bit of cola, inspiration hit him, he stared furiously scribbling, not noticing or caring that his handwriting was absolutely horrendous compared to Quistis'. Sitting back, he hoped she could read it. Oh well, it was worth a shot. But how to sign it? Should he blatantly obvious and put Seifer? Or be more mysterious and put "S"…or maybe a sketch of the Fire Cross?

He never got the chance. Voices were outside the door, and he decided not to risk it. Grabbing Hyperion and his coat, he dashed towards the open window and leaped out it without a second thought. He'd be staying in the Training Center tonight…he would reveal himself when the time was right.

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Quistis was exhausted and extremely cranky, although her polished icy exterior showed none of it. Selphie and Rinoa had indeed dragged her out on a shopping trip, forcing her to try on clothes that she never would have looked twice at, and for good reason. The shoe shopping had not gone much better, the fun factor equivalent being eating a bucketful of nails. Speaking of nails, the heels on the shoes they bought for her could easily impale something or someone. Oh well, she thought, maybe they could be used as a backup weapon.

To her shock, her door was open and slightly ajar. Alarmed, she drew Save the Queen out of her purse and entered stealthily, taking small, quick and deadly silent steps into her dorm, ready to lash anything that moved to a quick demise. The lights were off, but enough light was filtering in though the open window to outline the objects in the room with a pale wash of shadows. Sensing that her dormitory was clear of any thieves and robbers, she took a look around the room to see what had been stolen.

She blinked. Not a thing was out of place, everything was so neatly organized she couldn't have done better herself. Hyne, even her file folders were arranged alphebetically! The stain that once threatened to consume the carpet was gone, and the thick layer of dust that once adorned each piece of furniture was nowhere to be seen.

Checking the kitchen, she found her dishwasher emptied, the refridgerator sifted through and the food inside arranged efficiently and compactly. The yogurt, expired two weeks ago, that she had been meaning to get rid of, was pitched.

As if on cue, her coffeemaker 'dinged', playing both the roles of a wake-up call and a Hyne-sent miracle. She tuned slowly towards it, not really sure whether to believe this whole thing was real or not yet. Sure enough, a freshly brewed pot of coffee was waiting in front of her, practically screaming "Drink Me!" like the bottle of milk did to Alice. She didn't even need a second thought.

Sitting in her desk chair, sipping the coffee from her favorite mug, Quistis ran the events of the day through her mind, the day being average enough…except for the fact that instead of getting theives in her dorm while she was away, she got a maid/neat freak/absolute genius. Maybe Lady Luck had finally decided to pay her a visit for once in Quistis' lifetime.

A piece of paper caught her eye. A message from her mysterious housecleaner? The writing scrawled across the page was messy, smudged in some places, and almost illegible in some parts. To her, the writing looked almost familiar, but she erased the thought, when she considered how many students she had taught and how she couldn't possibly remember a single student's handwriting. Her tired eyes scanned the paper.

The joy so short alas, the pain so near,
The way so long, the departure so smart,
The first sight alas I bought too dear,
That so suddenly now from hence must part.
The body gone, yet remain shall the heart
With her, that which for me salt tears did rain,
And shall not change till that we meet again.

"…Thomas Wyatt, 6th sonnet…first stanza…" she mumbled quietly. She unconsiously started to recite the following lines to herself.

"The time doth pass, yet shall not my love;
Though I be far, always my heart is near;
Though other change, yet will I not remove;
Though other care not, yet love I will and fear;
Though other hate, yet will I love my dear;
Though other will of lightness say adieu
Yet will I be found steadfast and true…"

She couldn't find a signature. All that was left for a name was an ink splotch, as if someone had been thinking to long with the pen pressed down on the paper. Quistis shook her head, it was all too much to take. She still had to finish that research paper on Shumi technology and the night was drawing to a close already. Looks like there wouldn't be any sleep tonight for her. Facing her laptop, she prepared to begin typing away at the keys when her fingers tapped paper instead. Staring at the keyboard, she saw her paper completed, neatly printed out and ready to go.

Tonight would never cease to amaze her.

Cheesy and Pathetic Trailer: Will's Seifer's choice to come home be the best or worst decision he's ever made?

Hmm anyway, if even one person reviews, I guess I'll continue it. Hint hint. Oh by the way, I don't intend to stuff the following chapters with old poetry unless requested. Which I hope it isn't – takes me long enough to understand them myself…

Juusan Ikkiuchi