A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, my lovely readers. I really didn't mean for this to take so long, but Mengde came and went and I got kind of lazy and listless, but here I am again, and I'll try not to get off schedule anymore. I hope you like this chapter - it's kind of a change of pace.

-

Everyone, this is where the story gets… well, bad. Okay, maybe not bad, but let me put it this way. Does anything ever go right for Yuffie Kisaragi? No! How many times have I mentioned this in the story so far – the gods hate me. I don't know why. (Don't look at me like that – thieving and swearing and un-piety and all that stuff doesn't count. Sheesh. I'm the ruler of a country. You'd think fate would cut me a little slack 'cause, y'know, I'm royalty and all, but noooo. Maybe it's 'cause I date all these foreigners and I can't pick a nice purebred boy to initiate heavy petting with. What can I say, apparently I like 'em bald and big. Oh Leviathan that could be so wrong aaaaaah.)

-

"What do you mean you want me to go on a mission with Vincent? Why, for the love of Leviathan's sparkly fins, do you want me to go on a mission with that undead brain-eater? I can't believe you called me here for this."

Reeve sighed at me, exasperated. I think I am quite possibly the one thing that makes his job unbearable. Without me, the prancin' dancin' ninja extraordinaire, I think he'd be a perfectly happy man with a couple of kids (I say this because I think I am his birth control – he imagines what it would be like if he had kids like me and then promptly throws up and never has sex without a condom).

"Yes, Yuffie, I want you to go on a mission with that undead brain-eater."

"What is an undead brain-eater?"

"Vincent," Reeve blurted, his voice a little squeaky. He cleared his throat. "We were just discussing the mission I am assigning Yuffie to."

"Mission?"

"Yes, and I tell you this because you're going with her."

"I see," Vincent said with perfect aplomb. Damn him, he didn't even blink! What the hell is that? I swear to Da Chao, ever since he dropped me like a hot tamale, it's like he doesn't care at all. I just want to punch him in his overly pretty, luscious mouth. Asshole. "What is the mission?"

"Well, I shouldn't call it a mission, per se," Reeve mused. "I guess it's more like, well… an inspection."

"An… inspection?" I echoed.

Reeve nodded. "At least, that's what we're going to make it look like."

"Look like?" I raised an eyebrow. "Just what are we covering up here? Get to the point, Reeve."

Vincent gave me a look. Holy hell, Vincent, I'm not three years old. I WILL SPEAK TO REEVE HOWEVER I PLEASE. (Unless he's threatening to fire me or something.) Man, I needed to calm down or else there'd be Vincent guts all over the room, and seriously, cleaning guts out of the upholstery and the wallpaper is just not a pleasant task for anyone. I wouldn't want to inconvenience the janitors like that, y'know? I like 'em too much. I know this one named Phil, this one time he let me in when I couldn't find my key-card after hours, and – oh, sorry. Tangent.

Reeve scowled at me. "Yuffie – "

"Sorry, sorry."

"Okay," he said, lightening a little. "What we're covering up is this – there have been rumors of something illegal going on in Junon – at one of our air-shipping stations."

"Oh, really, do tell," I said, leaning over his desk and wiggling my eyebrows.

He smirked a bit. "We're not exactly clear on the details, but someone might be deliberately miscounting the stock of our artillery shipments. Numbers aren't adding up, and we need to know what it's about. We need to know if this is a calculated event."

"How many times has this happened?"

"Three times in the last month," Reeve said. "We need you to see if there's anything nefarious going on. But we don't want to let anyone onto the real reason you two are at the plant. Doubtless, having Yuffie Kisaragi and Vincent Valentine 'inspecting' the place will raise a few eyebrows, but if you don't draw any further attention to yourselves, you should be able to get some actual work done."

"Why us, Reeve?"

"You two are the best agents we have, and you'll get the job done quickly and efficiently. I don't want to send some newbie out there and have our cover blown."
"All right, when do you want us to head out?"

"We'll have an airship waiting for you tomorrow."

"Is that all you wanted?"

"You might have to stay in Junon a couple of days, so pack some clothes."

"Aye, aye, captain!" I saluted Reeve, and with one last glance at Vincent, who was not looking at me, I left.

-

The next day, the airship ride was, well, tense.

I know, I know, we had broken up (if you can even call it that, I mean, it's not like we had a damn relationship) four months earlier, and I was most likely just making it worse for myself by feeling tense, by feeling like he was feeling tense, but seriously, he's such a jerk, and I hate him! Okay, not really. I probably still had feelings for him, and no amount of my newfound affection for Rude could completely stamp them out. That was just going to take time, and I hadn't had enough yet.

Since we had arrived late in Junon, we decided to just turn in for the night and see about inspecting the shipping station the next day. But then the gods decided to smirk cruelly and use me as their plaything. Again.

"What do you mean you mixed up our booking?" I spluttered. "Fix it!"

"Ma'am," said the nasally desk attendant, "we offer our sincerest apologies, but there was a mix-up, and we've booked the both of you in a single room."

"A… single room?" I said slowly.

"Yes."

"Okay, well, then get us another room. That simple." I clapped my hands together and grinned in triumph.

The clerk simpered apologetically, and my heart sank. "I'm afraid we have no extra rooms, ma'am. Just the one."

"What!"

"Yuffie, please calm down," Vincent murmured. I shot him a glare. With a lift of his eyebrow, he stepped in front of me and began to negotiate with the woman. Fuming, I slumped into a nearby chair in the lobby, occasionally catching phrases like holiday weekend and all the other hotels are booked too and Junon is big on tourists and terribly sorry.

When Vincent came back, and I saw that he was only carrying one room key, I scowled. He sighed, a short puff of air, and I knew there would be no arguing the situation. "So we're sharing a room then?"

"Yes. There is no way around it."

"Fine," I said, and I snatched the key unceremoniously from him, leading the way to our room.

Fuck you, Leviathan! Fuck you and your fishy self! I hate you, Da Chao! I am going to paint giant wangs all over you when I get home to Wutai! Payback is a bitch.

I was aware that I was acting rather childish; it wasn't Vincent's fault that we only had one room. However, it was Vincent's fault that he had broken my heart four months before, and I am so great at acting like an overgrown, spoiled brat. Yay for being raised like a princess!

When I threw open the door to our room with Vincent following close behind, I let out a short grunt of irritation at the realization that there was only one bed. It was obviously made for two people, but no effing way was I about to spend the night in the same bed as Vincent. I knew one thing, though – I wasn't going to be the one sleeping on the floor or in the bathtub.

I heard the door click shut quietly behind us as I threw my bag down by the night stand and flopped onto the bed like a petulant child. There was silence for a few glorious moments.

And then, "Yuffie."

"Yes, Vincent?" I said shortly.

"Is there something wrong?"

Leviathan, I hated the sound of his voice. It was so, so… stupid! And delicious and velvety and all washing-over-you-in-warm-buttery-dark-tones-like-chocolate-and-sexy-things-and… fuck. Not being over Vincent was some hard stuff.

"No, Vincent. Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Why would anything be wrong? That's ridiculous. Everything could not be more right than it is now."

"You're lying. Why are you acting this way, Yuffie? I realize that sharing a room will be an inconvenience, but I didn't know that my presence was so odious to you."
Slowly, ever-so-slowly, I rolled over so I was facing him. I studied him, standing there so stiffly in the middle of the room, so Vincent-like. His face was impassive, but after all the time we had spent together, after all the things I had discovered about him, I knew that he was annoyed.

"Vincent, don't pretend you don't know what's bothering me. And if you really don't know the reason, then I definitely don't want to talk to you about it. I don't talk to stupid people."

His eyes shuttered, and I knew the conversation was over. For the moment, at least.

Really, my hostility toward Vincent was a new thing. Ever since I had gotten together with Rude, I had sincerely wanted to put away any lingering feelings I might've had for Tall, Dark, and Vampiric. I'd been through the grieving stage, the depression, the denial, and that whole acting-like-I-didn't-care-and-feeling-really-awkward stage (that had been the most recent), and now I was just angry at him for existing and making me feel things for him, dammit. I wanted to be happy with Rude and not be feeling anything, no matter how small or doomed, for Vincent.

That night, I took a special sort of relish (and not the hot dog kind) in Vincent sleeping on the floor.

-

You know, it's funny how, sometimes, life is not what you think it is.

And by this awesomely philosophical statement, I mean that there was not actually any problem at the shipping station. Before I tell you the wondrous blunder that the gods laid in my lap, I'll tell you about some important shit that went down between me and Vincent.

Yeah. Shit did go down, unfortunately. I mean, did you expect any differently from Yuffie the Wonder Girl and Vincent the Brood-Meister?

From where I left off, we woke up the next morning and brushed our teeth and stuff in silence, and then we headed out to the shipping station in silence, and we didn't look at each other unless we were checking to make sure we weren't looking at each other. Or maybe that was just me?

As we questioned different people and "inspected" the area, I noticed that nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

And then we met Herb.

"Miss Kisaragi, Mr. Valentine, I'd like you to meet Herb Walker. He handles stock and inventory," said the young man who had been giving us the grand tour. (And by grand tour, I mean snooze-fest, 'cause ohmigawd there couldn't have been anything boring-er than walking around a plant and pretending to inspect it – well. Except maybe listening to Cid talk about how to make the best cup of tea ever. BORING.)

"A pleasure to meet you," Herb said. Herb sounded like he had a severe cold, and his face was sort of scrunched-up funny-looking, but he had a nice smile and big thick glasses. In fact, his glasses were so thick that they magnified his eyes by several times, giving him this weird, bug-like appearance. His squat body didn't help. It sort of reminded me of a cute, oversized beetle. I immediately liked him and wanted to tackle-hug him for some reason.

"Hi, Herb!" I chirped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vincent give me a fleeting, funny look, but I ignored him. He also murmured a hello.

"So, Herby," I said, "tell us about what you do here."

"Well, I keep records of what comes in and out of the plant," said Herb. "Mostly I'm just a paper-pushing number-cruncher. Not very interesting, I'm afraid. However, if you want to see where I work, I can give you a short tour." He smiled that funny little smile again, and I couldn't help but grin back. He was just so… nice.

"Awesome!"

Our tour-guide from before said, "Miss Kisaragi, Mr. Valentine, will you be all right with Herb? Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Nah, we're cool," I said, waving a hand at him. "We'll let'cha know if we need anything else, mmkay?"

"Right so, let me just show you my office," Herb said.

There were countless hallways in the shipping station. Many of them led off to wide open areas where airships constantly landed and took flight every day. Some of them led off to offices and storage rooms and janitor closets, etc. As Herb chattered friendlily (THAT IS TOTALLY A WORD, SHUTUP), I pretended to write comments on my very official pretend clipboard (that is to say that the clipboard had no real purpose except to make me look official, not that the clipboard was not actually real, heh).

Finally, we stopped at a door with the name "WALKER" printed on the window in those nice black block letters that all official-type people have on their doors. When Herb opened the door and flicked on the light, I whistled.

"Wow, Herb. Nice set up ya got here."

Herb blushed. D'aww, I just wanted to pet him and hug him and feed him cookies. He was so squishy and huggable-looking. "I've been with this plant for quite a while, Miss Kisaragi. I was here before the WRO took over for Shin-Ra and cleaned this place up. Seniority comes with a comfy desk job and a coffee maker. Oh, and a couch."

And he actually did have a couch too. I scampered over and flopped onto it unceremoniously, sighing in bliss. "Ohhh, my aching feet."
"Er… are you all right, Miss Kisaragi?"

"Inspecting plants sucks, Herb. It sucks a lot. Being on your feet this much sucks. Your couch, however, does not suck. In fact, it is quite the opposite. This count is rather divine, if I do say so myself. I would bet that Leviathan and Da Chao probably blessed this couch before its wonderful, comfy birth."

Herb looked as if he was struggling not to laugh. Vincent looked like he wanted to kill me.

"You're certainly friendlier than any of the officials who've come to inspect the plant before," Herb commented. He immediately blushed again, obviously knowing he had said something that could get him in trouble. That is, if we were real plant inspectors. Frankly, I didn't care. I planned to milk this for all it was worth.

"Oh, I know, Herb. Those guys back at Plant Inspection Headquarters are a bunch of stiffs. I can't even get them to come over to play poker with me on Fridays."

He frowned. "That's terrible! Wait… there's a Plant Inspection Headquarters?"

I nodded gravely. "Oh yes. Shin-Ra takes inspecting very, very seriously."

Herb seemed to cotton onto the utter seriousness of the situation and nodded as well, appearing solemn. "I imagine it does."

Vincent, I could tell, was getting more and more agitated.

Besides the totally sweet couch that Herb had (did I mention it was a nice floral pattern?), I noticed that his desk was totally disorganized. There were papers everywhere. Teetering stacks were all over the place, looking like they were about to fall and scatter everywhere.

Herb saw where my gaze was directed. "Oh, er, sorry about the mess. I'm a little bit disorganized."

"'S okay, Herb. You get the job done. That's the important part."

His ears went pink again. I really liked Herb. At the same time, though, something was niggling at the back of my mind, but I couldn't place my finger on what.