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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Jiraiya decides that trying to track Tsunade down to drag her home is getting tiresome, no, just really, really annoying. For one thing, she puts her stealth to use evading him and finding the most out of the way, seediest bars she can think of. He figures that she probably chooses the increasingly risqué locale on purpose.

Jiraiya surveys the bar from the doorway, the dying yellow sunlight filtering in behind him. A head of corn silk hair stands out in the sea of bowed heads. I figured. Jiraiya marches over to where she's sitting, and his bulk occupies the chair beside hers.

The bartender walks over to him. "What'll you have, sir?"

Jiraiya smiles humorlessly. "Sake."

The bartender, a tall man with acid scars on his face, turns to Tsunade. "More of the same, ma'am?"

"Oh, no," Jiraiya interjects, "she's had enough."

The bartender nods, a gleam of understanding in his eyes, and sweeps away.

Tsunade very slowly turns her head and glares at her former teammate. "Mind telling me what that was for?" Her pale eyes are bloodshot and lidded; her face is grim and set, yet the muscles are strangely lax.

"I've got no strong want to deal with you when you're so drunk that you're smashing everything within reach."

Tsunade snorts. "Coward."

For a few moments they are silent. Tsunade is staring straight ahead, a decidedly disagreeable look on her face, and Jiraiya steels himself for what's probably going to be an unpleasant night. And he has to wonder…

She hasn't been the same.

Then Tsunade speaks, and her voice drips with a latent threat. "I told you to stay away. I don't want people chasing after me. I told you… I just want you people to leave me the hell alone." Her voice grows harder and more hostile as she speaks.

Jiraiya snorts. "Now how could I do that? I don't think I could live with myself—besides the fact that the little kid you stuck with me would have my head—if you just upped and ODed on us."

"How noble." Tsunade is at her worst, sarcastic and cutting, and her voice grates on Jiraiya's ears; it doesn't help that she doesn't even try to keep disgust off of her face.

For once, Jiraiya does not respond to that; he doesn't rise to the bait. That would be too easy, and he hasn't come here to duke it out with his broken hellcat of a teammate. "I just wanted to see how you were holding up," Jiraiya mutters under his breath, casting a sharp look at her face to catch even the most minute of reactions.

Tsunade lets out a harsh, choking sound that almost sounds like the most caustic of laughs. "I think it's pretty obvious how I'm "holding up", Jiraiya, or have you finally lost your senses entirely?"

Jiraiya forces himself to choke down the harsh flare of anger and the cutting remark that threaten to bust forth at that. He reminds himself, again and again, that he can not rise to the bait. Because he knows that she's only doing this to try to alleviate her pain, and it's obviously not working.

"You…wanna talk about it?"

Tsunade's hands tense on the edge of the bar, and Jiraiya sees the wood buckle and splinter. "Not really," she mutters. Her voice is tense and rough, thrumming with a raging river that roars just beneath where the human ear can hear.

Jiraiya rubs his hand against his forehead. She's been like this for four long, draining months. She's been running off to bars straight after shift change for four months; she quit work a month ago. She's been spitting and swearing at every one of his attempts to talk to her for four months.

And he's sick of it.

"Tsunade, you're running again."

"What?" Her voice is low with danger, but Jiraiya doesn't hear.

He groans and raises his voice, thinking she didn't hear him. "I said you're running—"

"I heard you!"

Well, he's gotten her attention at least. One down. Now all he has to do is figure out how to do this without getting killed or thrown through the thatched roof of the bar.

He turns to face her, placing his hands blade like on the bar. "Listen, you're never going to get over it by drinking and not talking about it; all that's gonna get you is a hangover and an addiction—though from the looks of it you're already at both," he added in a mutter.

Tsunade's face contorts and contorts again, and Jiraiya winces to see the endless pain writhing on her otherwise flawless features.

"Did this guy," he asks quietly, "really mean so much to you?" It's a question that seems almost ashamed, and Jiraiya wishes that he didn't have to ask it. But if he's going to make any progress, he needs to know.

"About as much as Manami meant to you."

Jiraiya grimaces; yes, he is in for a very long night if his suspicions are correct. "Then maybe we've finally found something we can both talk about."

Tsunade snarls and whips around, her eyes blazing. Jiraiya starts and almost flinches, because of what he sees in her eyes. There is anger, rage, pain, sorrow, agony. And above all that, there is a lack of light; her eyes are dark and shadowed.

"How can you possibly think that you understand? How can know what it's like to feel everything good in your life die in one moment?" she half-howls, and the other patrons turn and begin to stare.

Tsunade keeps going on, her eyes burning and her voice throbbing with rage. "I have lived in hell for four months! I watched Dan slip away; I held him when he died. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I don't want to look at people. Damn it, I can't hardly breathe anymore. I just…I just…"

"Yeah?" Jiraiya knows it's probably a bad idea to press her further, but he has to keep pushing at this sore until it drains completely.

"I'm not sure," Tsunade whispers, dragging her hand through her hair and staring down at the empty glass with lost eyes, "I'm not sure that I really want to live anymore. Not without him."

For a moment, Jiraiya hates Dan. He hates him for leaving Tsunade so fraying and tattering, like a piece of cloth that's been left alone too long with out repair. He hates him for dying and making Tsunade hurt, and he hates Dan for being able to evoke such strong emotions in Tsunade in the first place, even when dead.

Especially when dead. The problem about being jealous of a dead man, was that the jealousy never died, not completely.

"Listen, Tsunade," Jiraiya says bracingly. "There's a war going on. The village needs you. You can't just go around hiding from your work and drinking your life away. Life goes on, Tsunade."

Tsunade laughs and stands up. She stands in the open doorway, the yellow light silhouetting her frame. "That doesn't matter. You know what, Jiraiya, I really don't care about this place anymore. This whole village could burn to the ground, and I wouldn't care."

Something in that fills Jiraiya with foreboding. "Tsunade…"

There is harsh finality in the words that she speaks. "Goodbye Jiraiya. I don't think we'll be seeing each other for a while." With a silent sweep of her clothes, she is gone.

Fifteen, ten, even five years ago, he would have gone running after her. Because five, ten, Jiraiya had to admit that he was somewhat in love with Tsunade, and fifteen years ago, wholeheartedly.

But if nothing else, tonight has shown him that she's not the same woman he fell in love with then out of love with. Tsunade has become something harsh and bitter and dangerous, and that's something that Jiraiya doesn't think that he can even stand to be around, let alone love.

So even though he has a terrible feeling about what she's said and what she might do, Jiraiya does not go running after Tsunade. Instead, all he does is sit at the bar, drink, and dream of what was a once happy past, and pray that the future will not get any worse.

That night, Tsunade is seen fleeing the village of Konoha, and Jiraiya is not surprised.

For the record, yes, Tsunade is an alcoholic. It is never explicitly stated in the series (not as far as I know) but she is. People, she was drinking in the hospital. That's the only reason Lee had that sake during his fight with Kimimaro.

Just in case you're wondering, this is four months after Dan dies. Jiraiya and Tsunade are in their early thirties.

Hope you enjoyed it.