The day had already gone to the fuckin' dogs, Cid Highwind thought to himself, finding some solace as he took a drag from the cigarette that perpetuated the corner of his lips. Feeling the labor his heart as it strained through each puff, feeling the tar coat his lungs and feeling the rush of nicotine that coursed through his systems gave him the pleasure that something in this world would be the constant, that wouldn't change overnight, or up and leave him someday.

God, he missed her.

The house in Rocket Town was now all but deserted. Instead of smelling the lingering scent of lilac and the immaculate kitchen counter when one came in, all you could see was air so blue from the chain-smoking pilot within, dishes rarely being done, and the freezer full of instant dinners that Shera would never have approved of. Opened bottles of liquor about, being either nursed or downed to wash away the pain that would have had that same whitecoat tight-lipped and not spoken to the pilot for a week.

Don't even get him started on how he'd put his feet, still booted on the coffee table as he watched TV. She'd have torn him a new one for that.

But now she was gone, leaving Cid Highwind all alone. Packed her little bag and moseyed on over to the Golden Saucer, now making excellent money as a bar hostess. She wrote Cid every once in a blue moon, talking about the tips she got, the clientele, and Brian, the new man in her life.

That made Highwind feel sickeningly inadequate, despite the fact that he knew he brought it on himself.

Months ago, he would have killed for these simple pleasures. But now, the cost made them bittersweet.

Now, all Cid was left with were his memories, a bottle and the smoking stick in his mouth that was slowly killing him.

He'd tried to get his old friends up on the phone, with no success. Nanaki, or Red as Cid always knew him was out in Cosmo Canyon, getting reacquainted with himself, as well as having deep conversations with Cait Sith. (Despite the fact that he was just a stuffed animal, he had a surprising amount of intelligence.) Barret was off prospecting for oil, getting the rigs up so that people wouldn't have to rely on Mako energy anymore. Vincent Valentine wasn't much of a drinking buddy, but he was already off doing God knows what. Yuffie was off in Wutai, which suited Cid just fine. Every time they talked, she cracked something about his age and rambled on until he was sure he was going deaf, or dying of boredom and not giving a damn. Cloud was just too damn moody for Cid's liking and Tifa was insanely busy in Edge with her refurbished Seventh Heaven.

Too bad, Cid thought. She mixes a killer gin and tonic, and holds a good conversation...Hell, maybe I just miss female company.

Cid dragged a rough hand across his weary eyes. It had already been a tough day, with everything that could possibly go wrong occurring. First, he woke up late, broke a critical engine part for his prized Tiny Bronco, and ordering a ludicrously expensive one that would take two weeks to arrive. And the fact that Shera was gone only rubbed salt in his already raw wound.

Stabbing the remote forward, the fantasy on the screen vanished with a click, and Cid Highwind went to bed. It was already one in the morning, there was nothing worthwhile to watch anyway. All he could do was close his eyes and hope that tomorrow would be good for something.

After a good half-hour of trying to sleep, Cid's thoughts began to trail back to the glory days, fighting Meteor to try and save the planet.

One memory in particular crossed his mind, having blood flowing south and an old desire burning in Cid's heart...

---

It was deliciously warm, almost hot inside Holzoff's cabin, where the party had vetoed Cloud's idea of pressing forward without some decent rest. Besides, the sun had set and the temperature would only continue to fall.

Cait Sith and Red took residence on the carpet, the giant of a Mog in tow. Barret fell asleep, sonring happily in a chair near the fireplace. Cloud took up a cot, while Vincent leaned up against a pillar, sleeping lightly so as to act as a sort of scout. Yuffie curled up beside Red, using him as a pillow. That left a spare room, where Cid and Tifa decided to take up residence for the night. With little talk, (Involving Cid's smoking and how he was only killing himself.) they fell asleep, the clear moon shining through.

Normally, Cid Highwind preferred to be too hot than too cold, this was an extreme exception. He was in his undershirt and boxers, and he was still almost breaking a sweat. He heard Tifa rustling some beside him, presumably having the same trouble as he.

If the problem lay anywhere, it was that the soles of his feet were too damn hot! One of Cid's pet peeves from all the standing, walking and running he did was that the calluses trapped heat inside.

Impatiently, Cid checked his watch, reading two-thirty. Fuck sakes, this is gonna hit me tomorrow.

Turning over onto his left side and desiring something to pass the time, he whispered "Hey Lockheart, you awake?"

Her negative response gave him the answer he needed. But he saw her, turned away from him on her left arm. The covers were pulled down so they covered her front, but left her back exposed, peaking at her hip. She had obviously gotten too hot and taken her clothes off, consciously or otherwise. Her naked back was exposed, the moonlight reflecting off her supple flesh. Only a small portion of her backside was exposed, leaving the rest of the sensual picture of her curves to the imagination, where it belonged.

She was the most beautiful sight Cid Highwind had ever laid eyes on, and he knew it. He let out a small moan of pleasure and surprise, feeling animal instincts running high. She was so beautiful and so close, himself extremely tired and lonely, and he and Shera were never really formally together...

Before Cid Highwind's instincts told him to grab Tifa Lockheart and violate her, his brain kicked in and he vocalized what it told him.

"I need a fuckin' smoke..."

He pulled on his boots and jacket, leaving the sleeping angel to herself.

---

That was the past. Three years ago. And now, Cid Highwind cursed himself for bringing that back up. It only hurt him more to think that he was still alone. The wet spot he'd left in the covers proved he enjoyed remembering it, detail for detail, but it only tore the wound in his heart open even more.

Even if Shera was gone, Tifa all but belonged to someone else. And that made Cid Highwind sick with jealousy.

He cursed and turned over, falling into a dreamless sleep, void of either the woman he missed or the guilty pleasure of Tifa Lockheart.

---

Closing was a double edged sword. It was something to look forward to, getting to go home and do your own thing until the next day, but it was also a terror to clean up everything so you wouldn't have to do it the next day, while customers pounded their mugs, demanding more booze. And then it was killer during the slow times.

Tonight was slow for Tifa Lockheart. And she hated just standing around, with everything done, waiting for the time to pass, or until a customer came in.

But, as was normal on a Sunday evening, Seventh Heaven was deserted.

Tifa hated Sundays. One always had to go to school, or suffer the end of a weekend on Sundays. She never liked that feeling ever since she was five or so.

Sunday was also the day when he left...

She couldn't exactly blame him. Plain ol' Tifa Lockheart, bartender by day, fist fighter by night, one of a million other fish in the great sea of life versus beautiful, young, intelligent, one-of-a-kind Aerith Gainsborough. Tomboyish friend or beautiful lady, Tifa could do the math. Cloud had to follow his own path, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Dammit Cloud, what the hell's wrong with ME?

Her heart still ached with loneliness. Tonight was one of the nights she let her mind wander to things that didn't constitute a professional attitude.

Tifa was a lonely person at heart. She was always used to doing things herself, only having to rely on herself for what she needed. For nearly ten years she had done that, winning her own bread and doing her own thing. She had her friends, of course, but there was an itch on her back, a nagging prospect and need in the back of her mind that her friends just couldn't scratch or sedate.

Sure, petting Red or scratching Cait Sith under the chin was nice, or one of Vincent's firm handshakes or Barret's bone crushing hugs, even the playful slap on the shoulder from Cid Highwind after a good fight was nice. But she yearned for someone to hold, to feel safe in their arms. And for a while, she told herself that Cloud would be the one who would meet that need for her.

Look how that turned out, Tifa told herself reproachfully. In the deserted bar, she wasn't sure if she said that out loud or not.

Finally fed up with the lack of customers, Tifa cleaned the bar one last time, gave the floor a good sweep and mop, polished the brass and called it a night, leaving the ghosts of the past to frolic with her memories in the dark room.