'Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work.' – Aristotle

I'll Be Brave For You
Monk
Rated R for anyone, anywh - Nah, not really. Rated G. That's right, there's absolutely nothing offensive in this one!

AN: Gaaaah! I was halfway through the Dragoon story when I lost it. :[ So I wrote this to calm down. Dragoon will probably be next, if I can steel myself to rewrite it. QQ
Disclaimer: As before, I own precisely nothing to do with FFIII except the writing you see before you (though I do so wish I did).

Refia thinks Arc looks terribly cute in his little green coat – too cute to be strong, to be central to them – dashing back and forward through the camp, sorting and calling and tripping over tree roots and crying when he hits his head too hard off the ground. She would drop everything and rush to him, scooping him in to her arms and kissing his forehead and healing his wounds with a swish of her fingers and murmuring "It's OK baby, it's OK; it'll be fine in a second… Don't cry, sweetheart."

And Arc smiles bravely at her, and it does her heart good when he gets up and resumes his scooting about. Refia can't keep her eyes off him; she's constantly worried, even though she knows that mostly, he can look after himself. She's not sure, but there seems to be a motherly streak in her – something that wants to, maybe even needs to cuddle and reassure – and neither Ingus nor Luneth are any good for that, one being too constant and the other too… male.

There's a part of her that hopes that this Arc will never cease. She wants to always have someone to hold on to. Someone to give her a purpose, even if that purpose is entirely selfish. And she's not ashamed of this; as a White Mage, she spends the entire day giving. It shouldn't be too much to ask that she be allowed to take, once in a while, especially when what she was taking was so passive…

So when Arc emerges from his tent in a sky blue Monk's gi and announces that he's taking off, going somewhere to train – to make himself stronger – Refia's heart leaps in to her mouth. Don't go, she wants to call, don't go, Arc. I need you the way you are. But as he passes through the trees and that flash of blue vanishes in to the darkness, she lets him leave, because it will look odd if she doesn't.

And it's only after a few minutes have passed that she follows, tracking him like prey, and huddles in the trees by his training place, watching. She sees him twisting, running up trees and throwing kicks in to the air and she realises, all of a sudden, how long it has been since Arc last needed her to hold him. Since he last cried.

He falls, skinning his elbow, and cringes. He does not cry, but Refia can feel the tears rising in her eyes. And she smiles, and decides that if he's found himself – if he no longer needs her – then that's probably for the best. She returns to camp, and retires to her tent without a word to Luneth when he asks where she's been. Not even to Ingus when he comes to her quietly and asks what's wrong, and all she can do is shake her head and shrug; he wouldn't understand.

She manages to hold back from crying until Arc appears in his gi, some half an hour later, and produces his skinned elbow, smiling bravely.