Who's still writing fanfiction? Not me, officer. I don't know what you're talking about.

*surreptitiously sweeps notepad under rug*

3. Hypothesis

Squall didn't even make it out of the Garden.

He was walking fast and hard through the grand lobby, trying to put as much distance between himself and that GF—that damn apparition, if it was even real—as possible, and if he found Rinoa on the way, that worked even better. At least he didn't have to pass through a gauntlet of strange looks. It was that lull in the evening between the rush of dismissed classes and the night shift, not yet quiet enough to hear his own footsteps but just enough to hear himself think.

That's where Squall stopped, his thoughts catching up to him at the corner where the elevators faced the front gates. What was he doing? In a fit of desperation he had this notion—this rash, germinal idea—that if Minotaur didn't like Rinoa, then being near Rinoa would rid him of the GF. Even if that was true, it was a short-term solution at best. He couldn't hang around Rinoa constantly. As much as she might appreciate the attention at first, it was impractical more than anything (she didn't help him around the office for a litany of reasons, 'distraction' and 'boredom' at the top of their respective lists.) Secondly, that would never answer why the GF appeared to him like that, out of the blue (or pink, rather) without a summoning, and that was something Squall needed to find out.

Finally—and this was what made him pause—that solution was tantamount to running to mommy to get the boogeyman out of the closet. Squall was not doing that. He was never that type of kid, growing up—not that he never got scared of shadows. He had the foggiest recollection of taking cover under the sheets while Zell went crying to Matron, but Squall didn't dare follow that route and give Seifer the satisfaction of calling him 'chicken wuss,' too. And not that he never cried, either, it was just... he was alone. He had always been alone. He still had one early memory, potent and untarnished by GFs, of standing outside and wiping tears on a rain-soaked sleeve, vowing to never...

Never...?

Squall shut his eyes and pinched his brow, squinting at fading thunder in the back of his mind. And he can hear and feel and smell the lion but he still can't see it.

(Griever, do you remember?)

"Ah, zere you are."

As soon as Squall looked, they were right in front of him, as if they had magicked into the lobby. It was a practiced feat to hold his composure and not jump back in shock, although something must have betrayed his surprise, judging by the grin that snaked across the older man's face.

"Did ve sneak up on you?"

Doctor Odine was not a pleasant person. There was something slightly offensive about his... well, his everything, from his condescending tone to his ungainly sense of fashion. He was always seen wearing that big, striped parasol-collar and baggy suspenders, pacing about the room with a stoop like a derelict clown. Squall could have dismissed him as nothing more than an annoying eccentric with too much clout, but if he remembered correctly (by proxy, if it's possible for implanted memories to be correct or real) this man had a lot to answer for what happened to Ellone all those years ago.

Right behind him was a gargantuan bodyguard who looked quietly uncomfortable in those heavy white Estharian robes. Squall recognized him at a glance; Ward was a man with whom he could easily connect. Perhaps it was that sturdy, mutual silence wherein a 'hello' could be exchanged with a mere nod, and then neither would need to converse further. ...Not that it was possible, for Ward. Squall almost felt bad for the loss of Ward's voice, but he had too often entertained the fantasy of never being expected to talk to people to be entirely sympathetic. (It must be nice, sometimes...)

"Doctor Odine." Squall nodded out of base respect, minding not to bow too far lest the chip fall off his shoulder.

"Squall," Odine returned, and it was oddly refreshing to be addressed so shortly, as if all of a sudden he was beneath the doctor. It was a change from the way students and staff scurried up to him all day with that deferential sir (or 'Mr. Commander!') though Squall knew better than to feel special; Odine was just courteous enough to talk down to everyone equally. "I might say it iz nice to see you again."

(Don't strain yourself.) "You've arrived early for the conference?" (It's not for another five days.)

"Of course, of course..." Odine nodded slowly, starched ponytail bobbing over his head. "I wouldn't vant to miss anyt'ing so important. You could say ze fate of all GF hang in the balance of zis fateful gathering, yes? I just hope your committee remembers how instrumental GF vere in ze battle against ze sorceress."

(Who said this was MY committee? All of Garden is in on this.) "I'm sure they didn't forget."

He continued musing as if Squall wasn't there, his distant, glassy look amplified by his thick spectacles—there was a fountain of a goggle-eyed karp a short ways behind the doctor that suddenly bore his likeness. "Hmm, some might even say zat's ze reason GF vere created..."

Something in that sentence hit a snag in Squall's head. "Created?"

Odine shrugged dismissively. "Oh, vell, zere's never been any conclusive evidence to ze origin of GF. Zere is only folklore and speculation... hardly scientific. Even a great authority such as I, who haz dedicated years of research into GF and 'ow to junction zem..."

(As if I need to be reminded of this.)

"...might never uncover zat mystery. Why, I remember ven I first developed ze junctioning technique, so many years ago. I vas werking day and night on a machine zat could capture..."

(Does he even remember who he's talking to, or does he give this pompous speech to everyone on a regular basis?)

"...My colleagues said, if I veren't already mad, ze beasts vould drive me to it! But I showed zem, didn't I? Hohoho!"

(God, if I ever get this old and windy, I hope someone puts me out of everyone's misery.)

His tone took a stern drop. "Even so, surely a SeeD of your experience understands ze importance of my research, and how ze continued..." He rubbed his fingers like a panhandler scratching for change, until the right word came to him. "...Employment of GF in Garden iz necessary for zat."

(Employment? They would think of it more as enslavement.) The thought came so abruptly and unbidden that Squall was taken aback. It wasn't a sentiment that made sense to him, rationally, and in the backlash he lost his voice.

Odine only took that as a comment on how impressive his argument was, and a cue to keep talking. "It might even interest Garden to know zat I have been developing a method to summon GF wit'out ze hazards of junctioning... but zen, research haz been painfully slow zese days. If only I had more rezources..."

Squall was interested and alarmed at once. (Wait, how would that be possible?) "Resources?"

"Oh yes, you know, it can be very difficult to experiment on GF wit'out any subjects..."

(You mean lab rats. If you think I'm going to give you any of this Garden's students or GFs, after what you did to Ellone...) "That's a shame."

"It iz, it iz..." Seeing himself at an impasse—one giving him a very flinty, uncooperative look—the doctor tucked his hands behind his back and turned away. "Vell, it iz getting late, and we old men like to retire early. I suppose you have quarters prepared for me already, yes?"

(Nice to know you'll be imposing on us directly. We just have an opening, as a matter of fact. Toilet's not included, but...) "I can call someone to show you to your room."

Squall started in the other direction to do just that, but before one foot crossed the other he held back, realizing he had an opportunity as rare as it was convenient. "Doctor Odine." He hesitated until he had the old man's attention, long enough for his pregnant question to birth a fully formed sentence. "Is it possible to summon a GF... unintentionally?"

"Hmm?" He narrowed a keen look at the commander. "Do you mean... wit'out ze summoner's consent?"

(Something like that.) Squall let his question sit long enough for the doctor to mull over it. "Interezing... I suppose it depends on ze GF. Ones in ze wild can behave unpredictably. I believe zere iz documentation from your own team zat recounts certain GF behaving in zat way, even after junctioning."

(Right. There was Odin, and others, but...) "What about a GF that isn't junctioned to you?"

Odine's bushy eyebrows peered over the top of his glasses. "Zat is interezing," was all he said for several seconds. "Do you have a case for me, or iz zis all a hypot'etical discussion?"

(I just watched a midget sasquatch try to eat out of Angelo's food bowl.) "...No."

Odine seemed sincerely disappointed. "Vell zat, as you say, iz a shame." On second thought, he tugged on a gross bit of stubble, trying to pull his gaunt face into something that could be taken seriously. "I vould t'ink, though, zat if such a case had arisen, it vould have made quite a spectacle of itself by now."

"Not half the spectacle you make every time you walk outside in that outfit."

Odine's sour countenance locked up as Ward's head snapped in Squall's direction, eyes bulging in disbelief, and a beat passed between the three before Squall realized he had said that out loud. Godsdamnit, his brain-to-mouth filter usually functioned so well—what the hell was wrong with him?

That seemed to be exactly what Ward wanted to ask, but then he had to fall back to avoid getting smacked by Odine's collar as the doctor threw his head back to laugh—still in that belabored accent, "Kwahahahahah!" After a moment, the cackling simmered down to a mirthful sneer. "Zah, hah... how amuzing. Yes... I'm sure I can show myself around. It haz been a pleazure, Squall."

He then ambled away, his bodyguard trudging at the doctor's heels. The close-lipped grin that Ward passed over his shoulder didn't really make Squall feel better, but it was nice to know that on some unspoken level, somebody approved.

-3-

Following that disaster of an encounter, Squall decided to make himself scarce rather than wasting the rest of his evening running around Garden—or worse, flitting around Balamb like a lost dog, looking for his girlfriend. Tonight would have been perfect for going back out to the fields for the alone-time he was suddenly craving, but his promise to Rinoa was still too fresh to consider writing an excuse around it.

He had plenty of writing to do at his desk, besides, so he took solace with the warm, solitary light of a lamp as he worked under the slowly darkening glass ceiling of the headmaster's office. Even without the conference coming up and its miles of red tape, there were still backlogged work orders to sign for SeeD posts across the continents.

As it happened, the week's newest batch appeared with a fluttering smack, like a pigeon dropping dead on his desk. Squall glanced up at the delivery girl, who crossed her arms and cocked a wryly quizzical look at him. "Is this your strategy for the evening?" Xu asked.

His reply was to keep writing. As unusual as it was, he wasn't in the mood for Xu's attempt at colleague-to-colleague banter. "Hmm?"

She shrugged and settled on the corner of his desk, somewhat more mindful than Rinoa not to sit on any sticky paperwork. "Nothing. I just thought you'd be taking the night off with Rinoa, rather than holing up in the office."

"She went to town with Quistis and Selphie. Some 'girls night out' thing. Even if I was invited, I'd rather not become a personal shopping cart for all the clothes they're buying." Squall didn't leave his brain-to-mouth filter on when working with Xu, although he couldn't say why. Something about sitting in Cid's old chair made him overtly cynical—or it was something about Xu, although they didn't particularly like each other or see the need to be friends—maybe that was it.

Xu tended to take everything he said (or didn't say) in stride, at least. "I see."

"And what are you doing here this late?" he tried to turn the conversation back on her.

"I was just going to drop this off on your desk to sign in the morning, but looks like you beat me here."

"How convenient." Squall's snide tone fell flat—he couldn't even muster the energy to be sarcastic.

Xu let it pass with a sidelong smirk. "Quite."

He thumbed through the stack of orders before sticking them at the bottom of the pile, and then got back to checking the older ones. A signature later, Xu was still there—staring at him but not quite, light eyes hovering around the odds and ends of the desk. This was getting strange; it wasn't Xu's custom to loiter, and she never acted shy about any work-related questions or demands.

Which could only mean this wasn't related to work. "...What?"

Finally, she met his gaze. "Are you all right? You look like something's been bothering you."

"It's nothing." (Is that why she's trying to talk to me like this? Am I that transparent?) It occurred to him that the way he answered quickly and then ducked back into paperwork probably didn't help his case. He tapped his pen against the desk to stall until a more reasonable explanation (excuse) surfaced. "...I just can't wait for this conference to be over with."

Xu folded her arms with a tired sigh, looking off into the rafters breaking up the night-cloaked skylight. "Me too. These preparations are killing us, and it hasn't even really started."

Speaking of premature hassles, "I ran into Doctor Odine downstairs."

Her surprise reflected his own at the doctor's appearance, in a subtle yet startled blink. "Here? In the lobby?"

"No, in the basement. That's where we greet all our guests." As soon as he said it, that didn't seem like such a bad policy. Maybe Squall wouldn't have to put up with so many solicitors looking for special forces hand-outs, or private security contractors trying to recruit students from under Garden's nose, or scientists like Odine trying to squeeze GFs out their dwindling pool if these people first had to make it past the oilboyles lurking in the sub-levels.

"Smart alek. So how did that go?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That well, huh? I'm sure he was impressed with your stellar people skills."

"Shut up." He was about to snip, As if you could do better, but then he realized that she probably could. That was the reason he so often delegated Garden's public announcements to her, after all.

"Fair enough." She shifted away, as if to get up and leave, but instead withdrew something from her coat pocket. Even behind the dim shadow of the lamp, Squall spied the unmistakable glint of gold foil as she coyly shuffled a deck of cards in one hand. "What about your playing skills? Care to show me what you'll be bringing to the tournament this weekend?"

Squall bit back a look of amusement. "What makes you think I'm going to that?"

"Honestly." Xu found the sliver of neon green almost completely buried in white papers, and pinned it with a finger. "You've had one eye glued to that flyer for the past week. I'm not blind."

"...Fair enough." Squall met her challenge by opening a drawer and pulling out a deck of his own. It was amazing how often it paid to keep one handy. It was a little ridiculous—and perhaps a strange comment on society, if he looked at it analytically—but Squall wasn't the type to over-analyze a chance to play cards. He only knew an opponent when he met one. "Let's game."

Xu scoffed through a grin, 'I knew it' on the tip of her tongue, yet all she did was help him clear the desk and set up the first match.

-3-

Xu had the upper hand while he was taking a few matches to warm up, but once they were playing in earnest, Squall trounced her at the game. By the time they were finished he ended up scoring a propagator card, which did improve his mood somewhat. At any rate, it was after 2200 and he was feeling as worn out as ever (still something nagging, itching, clawing at the back of his mind, some word or phrase he meant to remember but can't, like something gagged trying to speak, like something tied up trying to move) by the time he stepped back into Rinoa's room.

Past the muted fluorescent markers of the breezeway it was dark, as expected (Rinoa must still be out), but once Squall shut the door he swiftly noticed that it wasn't the right kind of dark, the darkness of vacant quarters. There was a candle lit on the nearby table, and he wandered from it to another on the coffee table, and from there into the bedroom, and from there to the woman on the bed, sitting back on her hands with her slender legs sweetly crossed under some lacy pink lingerie.

Of all the sparkly ornaments in Rinoa's room, just then her eyes were the brightest, gleaming darkly over a restrained smile. She could have said anything—anything—at that moment and it would've suited Squall perfectly, and he knew she could talk until daybreak if she were possessed to do so—but she held her tongue, and that in itself was horribly tantalizing. She only looked at him with that smile on the brink of taking over, rich golden shadows falling through a halo of black hair and painting her pale skin with burning tiger-stripes.

"Squall," she finally said, simply, softly, as she beckoned him to the bed, and then—not for the first time—he caught himself thinking that all the pink didn't look so bad, in this light.