Notes: For all you US readers, 50 kg is 110 lbs. 55 is 120. Yuffie is actually 47 kg (104 lbs). She's 5'3".

Operation: Exploding Jellyfish

Chapter Three: Bombs and Butterflies, Bikinis and Beaches

When she came to, she realized that she had the single worst headache of her life, felt like she was about to puke, and that her eyes had crusted over with something.

When she got the gunk out of her eyes and opening them didn't hurt her head like whoah, she found that she was in the infirmary.

She was also, she noticed, attached to a blood transfusion machine.

She tried to say, "What's going on?"

It came out as a dry, cracked yelp.

Tifa's voice, a warm contralto, filled her ears. "You lost a lot of blood, Yuffie. You're lucky we keep a supply of O Pos."

"Water. Please, love of god, WATER," Yuffie replied.

Frankly, she didn't care if Tifa'd had to dance naked on a bridge somewhere to keep her alive, she just wanted food and water.

And maybe for her lungs to quit burning and for breathing to not be a total bitch. Yeah, definitely that. The breathing thing needed to get a hell of a lot easier.

Tifa smiled and handed her a bottle of water. "Blood loss can result in severe dehydration."

Yuffie accepted the bottle and drained half of it in one swallow. She stared at the now half-full bottle.

She'd needed that.

"Whoah."

"Yeah. The surgery probably took a lot out of you, too. Two gunshots wounds to the back... Once you're finished, I'll patch up your ribs. You broke some ribs on both sides of the ribcage. And while I'm bandaging your ribs, you can tell me all about how you got hurt."

Much as she wanted the awesome cool green bandages, she shook her head. "Nuh-uh. I promised I'd watch Denzel and Marlene for you tonight, and I will."

Tifa smiled at her, that tender, loving smile that Yuffie wished to Leviathan her mother hadn't smiled before she'd died. "I can't leave you in the same house as Reeve, not in good conscience. He wants to strangle you."

"Let me watch Denzel and Marlene, and it won't be a problem. I promise. Now, go get ready for that hot date. I'll get Vincent to glare at Reeve until he bandages my ribs."

Tifa watched her, biting her lower lip.

"Do it," Yuffie urged. "Go on the date. When the blood transfusion finishes, I'm sure I'll be yippee-skippy-good-as-new!"

That biting motion turned into a smile. Tifa's eyes narrowed. "You're being so sweet. Is there something you don't want me to know, or something?"

"It's nothing like that! I made a promise, and I'm GOING to keep it!"

"Are you sure that's it?"

"Tifa," Yuffie growled, "if you don't shut up and go on your date, I am going to have to beat you."

"You're hiding something."

"Yes, I am. And I'm not telling you, because I don't want to. We're at an impasse here. Now shut up and go get ready."

The smile vanished. "No. Not until you tell me what you're hiding."

"I'm not going to, Tifa. And I've been stripped naked and hung from Da Chao, so don't think you're going to convince me to talk."

"Yuffie."

"No."

Tifa took the water bottle away. "Tell me."

"No. Go on your date."

"Tell me."

Tifa poured the water into the sink.

Yuffie felt her heart go down the drain with the water.

"Let's compromise. I'll tell you. After your date."

"Deal. Just... Promise me you won't hurt yourself any worse."

A wide grin stretched across her face. "What's going to happen? Vincent won't let Reeve kill me, and Marlene knows better than to punch me while I'm lying on the couch."

"You promise to call me if anything happens, right?"

"Absolutely," she lied.

There would be no need, after all. Nothing would happen, right?

"Go get Reeve. Tell him I'll explain if he bandages my ribs."

Tifa, still smiling, left the room.

She stared at the box of bandages in Reeve's hands. They were white. The white bandages were for use only in case of emergency, when they had run out of other bandages. The white bandages were actually a form of tape.

"Reeve, these are the wrong bandages. You're supposed to use the green bandages."

"More Wutaian superstition?" He asked.

"No, stupid. The white bandages are tape. The green bandages are self-adhesive cloth using body heat to stay on."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter that much?"

Ooh, eyebrow-raising? Well, two could play at that game. She raised an eyebrow, too. "Yes, Reeve, it does, because tape hurts, and I've got two gunshot wounds, and broken ribs, and I don't want any more pain, thanks."

He sighed and headed back to the bandage cabinet, this time coming back with the right bandages.

"The things I do for you guys..." He sighed.

Yuffie stuck out her tongue. "Not like we don't help you back, Reeve. Who's the one who helped you design your security system, huh?"

"And you also broke through it. You said you'd tell me why if I bandaged your ribs. Well, I'm bandaging your ribs, so start talking."

"Okay, you know the engagement ring that Cloud left in your desk?"

And that was all she had to say. Reeve slapped his forehead, groaning. "I'd completely forgotten that he was dropping by to get it... I've gotta get my head out of the paperwork sometime."

"Yeah, Reeve, that might not be a bad idea. What happened, anyway?"

He looked at the floor, mumbling in a very small voice, "I told the secretary to ask him to come back later... and then come back later... and then just go away." He looked back up, meeting her eyes, then looked away. "Hey, I was working! That stuff's gotta get done, Cloud-emergency or no Cloud-emergency!"

Yuffie snickered. "So, you forgive me for kicking your guards' asses and breaking through your security and shit?"

He sighed and nodded. "I understand. I wish you could have called, but that'd be expecting something like sanity from you and Cloud."

She glared.

Reeve opened the box of bandages. "Shirt off, kiddo. Let's get this done and get you occupied so you don't drive us crazy."

She grinned, lifting her arms to fold her hands behind her head. The motion made her wince, and she dropped them as quickly as she dared. "I'm watching the kids tonight."

"That's a scary thought."

"Shut up! You're obsessed with Moogles!"

"It's still a scary thought. You, watching kids." He shuddered, grinning.

Stupid joker, she thought, more than a little resentful.

It wasn't like she was irresponsible.

...Okay, so she was. And she had a foul mouth, no proclivities towards stealing, and distinct skills with arson, burglary, blackmail, light explosives, heavy explosives, and auto theft. She had no proclivities about using those, either, or about beating the crap out of people who pissed her off.

Not exactly the best role model. But hey, she was better than Cloud, right?

"Well, the kids have to go to sleep sometime, kiddo. You, unfortunately, regard sleep as a waste of time."

"The instant they figure out how to remove memories from peoples' brains, I am so deleting your memories of everything I ever said to Cait Sith," she grumbled as she pulled her shirt off.

Her abs and ribcage were slathered in vivid bruises. It was way completely totally grossness nasty. She didn't want to look at her ribs anymore.

She looked away.

Reeve made a hissing sound. "Jenova on a pogo stick, Yuffster, what the hell did you do!"

"Broke my ribs and got shot, Reeve. No big. Really. I mean, Tifa's been electrocuted nearly to death and I've been hanged from Da Chao and it's really not that bad. Really."

No, it wasn't that bad. Except it hurt like a sonovabitch.

Vincent walked in. He saw the ribs and stopped short.

"Uh, yeah, hi. You gonna make sure Reeve doesn't kill me?"

He nodded, once, and moved closer.

"How?" He asked.

She shrugged, then winced again. "I'm not sure, actually. I mean, one minute, I'm sliding down the railing, the next, bam, I'm rolling down the stairs. I'm not even really sure how I managed to actually, like, drive." She chuckled. "Then again, nin means "endurance", as well as the ability to hide. Enduring pain is sort of what we do."

Reeve sighed. "I'll talk to the one who shot you. Lift your arms."

She did so, hissing in pain. Gawd, it hurt. Hurt like a sonovabitch. She was never ever breaking her ribs ever again. Ever.

Vincent stood behind Reeve, his arms folded across his chest.

Now, Vincent always had a closed posture. But he only ever aimed himself at others in closed posture when he was getting ready to—

Oh gawd, Vincent was glaring at Reeve's back. Yuffie could practically hear Reeve's shirt melting from the laser beam Death Glare (TM).

"He's glaring, isn't he?" Reeve muttered.

"Yup."

Reeve wound a bandage around her torso, wrapping it around her aching ribs, occasionally touching her ribs to help position her.

Vincent stood behind him, making slight glottal noises every now and again. Every time he made a noise, Yuffie nearly fell over from shock. Sure, Cloud had told her that Vincent had told him, "Hmph," during that entire Geostigma crisis thing in Ajit, but she had always thought Cloud had been making some sort of assumption.

And here Vincent was, looking over Reeve's shoulder and making vaguely disapproving noises.

Vincent's right hand snaked out, slithering to touch one of the knots. He tugged.

"What are you doing?" Reeve asked.

Yuffie fought down the urge to glomp the thirty-year-old sweetie at the puzzled look on his face. He looked like somebody had snuck up behind him, cast Confu, and then repeatedly beat him about the head and shoulders with a live fish screaming, "Namu amita bul namu amita bul namu amita bul namu amita bul namu amita bul namu amita bul namu amita bul."

"Check this."

Reeve checked the knot.

There had been nothing wrong with it.

Reeve's right eyebrow twitched.

He didn't say anything, though. Just sat there and worked on her ribs, trying his best to ignore Vincent's noises.

Noises. Vincent's noises. She could have laughed herself into a funny farm at the insanity of it. Vincent didn't make noise, and yet now he was.

The hand sheathed in fingerless gloves— a long, spider hand, she thought— reached out again, stopping Reeve's bandaging and lightly touching the cloth.

"Check it," Vincent said.

Reeve checked the knot. Again, there was nothing wrong with it.

The eyebrow twitching started again, but Reeve kept his cool.

Yuffie had to admire him for that. If she'd been in his situation, she'd have smacked Vincent a good one several times already.

The next time Vincent demanded Reeve check a perfectly good knot, Reeve sucked in a breath through his teeth.

The fourth time, Reeve's brow furrowed, he inhaled in a hiss, and his hands paused, trembling, for about ten seconds.

The fifth time, Reeve snapped.

"Vincent, do you mind? I did take basic training. I know how to bandage ribs. Unless you think you can do better with only one hand?"

She heard more than saw Vincent stiffen at the remark.

"And don't you think you're a little out of touch with, you know, the medicine field, what with your injuries healing almost as fast as you get them and being able to regenerate vital organs and all?"

Vincent said nothing. But it was a hard silence, an angry silence. It wasn't in his nature to answer a personal attack of that sort.

So instead he glared.

Reeve turned around, glaring at Vincent.

She took as deep a breath as she could. "Guys, don't start this kind of shit, okay? Just don't."

"I didn't start it," Reeve said. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at Vincent.

This was almost cute. Except not, because Vincent was scary when he was angry and she didn't want to think about the fact that there was a physical weight in the air.

She took in another deep breath, wincing at the pain. "GUYS. Vincent, stop being a dickhead. Reeve, you think maybe he's got a point doubting the fine motor coordination of a man who is thirty years old, keeps a glowing Moogle clock in his office, and finger paints?"

He glared.

"Vincent, look, you're not doing much but being a dick and pissing Reeve off, so maybe you should just head out, okay? Make sure Denzel isn't doing anything stupid like putting DVDs in the microwave. I think I told him about the light show you get if you do that for ten seconds..."

Vincent just stood and looked at her, watching her face, watching her breathing, obviously weighing whether to stay or go, before turning and sweeping from the room.

Yuffie sighed. "Well, he's gone. Why don't we get back to my ribs now, okay?"

Reeve turned and looked at her, then sighed also.

They went back to her ribs.

Vincent left the medical room and meandered through the hallways until he found the kitchen.

As Yuffie had suspected, Denzel was watching the microwave.

Within was a DVD, Vincent noticed.

The timer on the microwave read 00:04. Vincent blinked, then stared at the lightshow in the microwave.

He watched as the DVD began to melt, and electricity crackled inside the microwave.

He shoved Denzel aside. His right index finger jabbed against the Stop/Cancel button. He slammed the door release button, his claw reaching in and easily scooping the melting, crackling DVD from the turntable.

Privately, he thanked Leviathan and Da Chao that he'd chosen to use a Mastered Lightning and a Mastered Absorb Materia in the linked slots of his armour. Else the shock that jolted down his body might actually do damage.

He threw the DVD into a trashcan and turned to face Denzel.

The boy didn't even look guilty. Those blue eyes (So like Cloud, Vincent thought before he could stop himself) watched him with a frank and almost apathetic reserve. Almost as if Denzel were judging him.

No, that was nonsense. Denzel was a mere boy of twelve. What did he know of life, of struggle, of sacrifice? Surely Denzel wouldn't try and judge him?

"Tell me why," Vincent said. He kept his voice soft— people always responded to his voice when he kept it soft, so why should he trouble himself to raise his voice?— but he made his demand clear.

Denzel looked at the floor. "Yuffie said it was cool and wouldn't hurt the microwave."

"You listened?"

He continued to look at the floor. "You'd never believe this, but yeah, I did. It sounded like something that would really work."

Vincent looked once at the DVD in the trash and said, "Don't do that again."

Denzel nodded.

Vincent, being himself, figured that he had the boy beaten.

"So, how'd you get hurt?" Denzel asked as he helped her settle on the couch.

"None of your beeswax, twerp," she replied.

He poked her.

She bit back a scream.

"That was evil, evil!" She hissed.

Denzel shrugged.

"Evil, evil, evil!"

"How'd you get hurt?"

"I fell down some stairs. Now bring me the phone." It wasn't a lie. She had fallen down some stairs.

"Not very ninja-ish to fall down stairs. Are you SURE you're a ninja?"

"Oh goddamn YES I'm sure I'm a ninja, now bring me the GODDAMN PHONE."

She felt like Cid. She was reasonably sure she sounded like Cid. Maybe she should stop practically living at Shera's place whenever she left Wutai, which was as often as she could.

Denzel went and grabbed the phone. He brought it to her, slapping it into her extended palm.

"Now bring me the phonebook or your address book or what-the-fuck-ever Tifa uses to list important numbers."

He brought back a tiny green book. Somebody had written Phone Numbers on it in a neat, round hand.

Tifa, of course.

She flipped it open, found a Wutaian take away listed, and dialled the number.

"Silent Sun Take Away," a Wutaian-accented voice said in Midgarian, then repeated in Wutaian.

Yuffie grinned, responding in Wutaian. She placed an order, looking at the folded up take away menu in the address book.

The woman on the other line sounded delighted to hear somebody speaking real, decent, Wutaian.

Yuffie couldn't blame her.

About fifteen minutes later, Denzel had to pry the phone out of her hands.

"Tell me you at least ordered dinner," Denzel demanded.

"Yes, I at least ordered dinner. And no, I'm not telling you what I ordered for you guys. It's a surprise."

Denzel just sort of stared, then shook his head and left.

Yuffie didn't bother trying to call him back. It wasn't worth the effort.

Reeve wandered in. "Hey, Yuffie? You ordered dinner yet?"

"Yes, I've ordered dinner, Reeve. I ordered it from Silent Sun, and I'm not telling you what I ordered, ha-ha."

"It's not too spicy for the kids, is it?"

"Will you trust me? I'm not stupid. I promise, none of it's too spicy. And it's not too out-there, either. I didn't even order any sushi, okay!"

Reeve held up both hands, his expression both apologetic and angry. "Don't bite my head off about it."

"Don't take me for an idiot."

"Okay, I won't." He settled into the chair beside the couch. "So, how exactly do you plan to stay occupied?"

"Horror movie marathon."

"Won't the screaming bother your ribs?"

She shrugged, winced. "Maybe. But I don't think so. Horror movies don't bother that much, actually. Heh, my life was a horror movie."

Reeve grinned at her. "You know that Cloud's into action and Tifa's into comedy, right? There won't be any horror movies in this house."

Yuffie smiled, making sure to do so sweetly. "I know that, but do you think maybe you could, oh, I don't know, rent some? Horror movies make me feel better."

He sighed.

She fixed him with a Look. "Come on, don't be a girl about it. I promise we don't have to start until the kids are in bed."

Reeve Looked right back at her.

Their Looks competed, vying in the air for the title of Most Effective Invisible Death Ray. Had Vincent been around, the two Looks would have been nothing, totally and completely nothing, but Vincent wasn't here, and oh boy did Reeve have a glare.

It's gotta be the moustache, Yuffie thought. Gotta be.

She continued her glare. Her pathetic broken ribs, gorgeous grey eyes, and history as a ninja would help her. It would have to. Reeve might have a moustache, but come on, she was a ninja!

"You're not going to do it, are you?" She asked.

"Nope."

"Well, then will you at least give me something for my ribs? It hurts like fuck!"

"Yuffie, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please, Reeve? It hurts so bad... It hurts to breathe, Reeve!"

"Yuffie—"

"Just a little something! C'mon, Reeve, just a little! I don't even care WHAT it is, Reeve, you could shoot, like, IBUPROFEN or something into me, just give me SOMETHING, please for the love of Leviathan!"

"Yuffie—"

Her muscles spasmed. She clutched her left side, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Leviathan," she hissed through the pain.

Reeve left the room. He returned with a medical box in his hands.

"How much you weigh, fifty kilograms? Fifty-five?"

"Fifty sounds about right..."

She wasn't fifty, and there was no way she was fifty five. At all. Ugh, if she was fifty, she needed to lose weight. But oh well.

"Don't tell Vincent about this, okay? He'll KILL me."

The needle jabbed into her arm. She grinned up at him at the precious inflow of pain-take-away-ing fluids.

"Your secret's safe with me!"

"He's going to kill me for this."

Reeve cleaned up and left the room. A little while later, she heard the front door slam.

A knock sounded at the door. Yuffie forced herself to stand. She shouldn't have, she knew, but the knock was so soft that she doubted anyone else had heard it.

Thank Leviathan for Reeve and drugs.

She made her way to the front door, turning the key and unlocking it.

The door opened to reveal a tiny Wutaian woman.

"This Seventh Heaven House? Ti Fa's house?" The tiny woman asked, her arms full of bags.

Yuffie looked at the other woman, even shorter and tinier than she herself was, and nodded, then realized that the woman couldn't see her over the order. "Yes, this is Tifa's place. Here, let me take some of that."

The woman peered up at her over the brown bags. Her brows furrowed. She exclaimed, "You aren't Ti Fa!" in a rapid flow of Wutaian syllables.

Yuffie barely recognized the accent. This little middle-aged woman was from Thai-Wu, the southern most portion of Wutai.

"No, I'm not," Yuffie replied, switching to Wutaian. "My apologies, I am... watching Tifa's house while she is away. She's gone out for the night, and the children are hungry. Please, ma'am, let your granddaughter carry some of that."

Thank Leviathan for Reeve and drugs.

"You from Da Chao Pinnacle!" The woman gasped, this time in Midgarian. And then she switched back to Wutaian. "You came from Leviathan's City? From the Lotus? You are the only one I've met from the Lotus!"

...Aaaand back to Midgarian: "You only one from Pinnacle! I seen too many from Southland, some from Mountains, but none from Pinnacle! Or you born in East, talk like Pinnacle?"

The drugs were making Yuffie's head hurt, and the rapid changing of languages wasn't helping. Come on, lady, just pick a language and stick with it. "I was born in Leviathan's City, yes. Gracious Water-God, grandmother, let me carry that! How much?"

But the woman refused to answer. She simply stood on the porch and tapped her foot.

Yuffie, sighing, switched to the Thai-Wu dialect. "Please, honoured elder one, let this unworthy granddaughter carry some of that!"

The woman's face brightened, no other way to describe it, and she offered some of the bags to Yuffie.

Yuffie took them and turned. "The kitchen is this way, honoured elder one."

And then she ran into another brick wall. She stumbled back, looking up.

Vincent stood with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed. He was glaring at her.

Vincent, Yuffie's drug-dazed brain decided, was very good at glaring. And also very sexy when he was doing it to her and not wearing the cape.

"Yuffie, why are you carrying?" He asked. His voice was soft, deep, smooth like spider silk in that beautiful-dangerous tone that meant she was in serious trouble.

"She not carry?" Asked Cute Middle-Aged Lady.

His eyes narrowed even further, then finally widened to their usual position. The red glow filled her with the need to move back just a little farther.

"No," he told Cute Middle-Aged Lady in Wutaian, "she is not supposed to carry things."

And with that, he took the bags from Yuffie and turned on his heel, carrying them to the kitchen.

Yuffie followed, Cute Middle-Aged Lady a pace behind her.

Cute Middle-Aged Lady made a snorting sound and switched to Wutaian. "And why not? She's young and strong. Is she pregnant? Is that it? Are you getting her in the habit of not carrying now so she won't hurt the baby later?"

Vincent stood still for a moment, just an instant, and then continued moving.

"That's not it at all," she forced herself to say, once she had recovered from the shock and her anticipation of Vincent actually saying something. "I'm not pregnant! I'm just... uh, banged-up a little."

Telling a middle-aged Wutaian woman that she had four broken ribs and two gunshot wounds was comparable to suicide. You simply did not confess weakness like that to middle-aged Wutaian women. Not if you wanted to spend the next few months in relative comfort without having tea poured down your throat and being fussed over and scolded.

She liked tea. She really did. But she had broken her ribs once during her journey, and she had spent the next four months under Chekhov's frenetic care. Shake had helped nurse her, and those had been the worst four months of her life.

She had run away, back to the Western Continent, and a year later found AVALANCHE.

"Ohhh," hummed the middle-aged Wutaian lady. "I see. Banged-up a little, hm? Does he play rough? Is it a height issue? Or are you just irritating?"

Yuffie gritted her teeth. What was it about tiny women from Thai-Wu in their mid-forties that enabled them to automatically hit sore spots? She would have sworn in Leviathan's Court that they all had some sort of Emotional Accuracy Stat +500 Materia equipped.

"He and I aren't like that. He just feels responsible--- wait, no, actually, I have no idea why he's here. We're just friends, sort of, except he never calls," and her tongue felt like Cloud's case full of Huge Materia, why was her tongue so heavy? "And he's here because I got hurt a little and that's IT, okay, he has almost nothing to do with this, he wasn't even there at the time, Leviathan GAWD!"

Thank Leviathan for Reeve and drugs? Maybe not, she decided as she sank to her liquid jelly quivering sleepy heavy knees on the kitchen floor.

Her head slumped against her chest and her eyes were so heavy, so heavy, so heavy. She felt like keeping them open was like trying to lift the Pagoda with one hand. Impossible, heavy, painful, heavy. Her eyelids weighed five hundred thousand kilos and her mouth was drier than dust and her tongue was like this dry, dead snake in her mouth and she would just REST her eyes, just for a MINUTE.

Someone jerked on her shoulder. "How banged-up, Lady Kisaragi?" The woman demanded. "Tell me the truth!"

"Fuh brok'n ribs, tw' t' 'side, 'n tw' gunshot wounds t' m'back."

"Lord Leviathan," the woman hissed. "Lady Kisaragi, you--- I--- how are you standing!"

Yuffie yawned. "Nin."

"Nin. Endurance? You idiot. You're standing because of pride! Pride! Prideful, foolish girl." And then the woman sighed. "Just like both your parents. You've probably never heard the stories. But Leviathan knows I have."

"'hov?" Yuffie asked. "'hov-obaasan? This's Edge! How c'me you're in Edge?"

"I'm not Chekhov, dear. That's my aunt. I'm Chekhai."

"Chekhai," she mumbled. "Chekhai... Chekhov's niece?"

She felt the touch of cool metal against her cheek, and Vincent's voice murmured, "How bad? Can you tell?"

"I think she has a fever, but that may be her body trying to resist the tranquilizers. Whatever you used on her---"

"---I had nothing to do with that."

"Thank Leviathan for Reeve and drugs!"

The cool metal stopped moving. "I'm going to kill him," Vincent growled. "I'm going to kill him."

"Don't say things you don't mean," Chekhai's voice snapped. "If you were so slack as to allow him to drug her this heavily, you don't have the right to complain!"

"'cept maybe not," Yuffie continued to explain, "'cos this is making me sleepy and sleep," she yawned.

Vincent mumbled, "Esuna," and all the tiredness began to leech away, falling straight out of her bones.

Unfortunately, the pain came back. At first, she wasn't entirely aware of it. And then the world became ridiculously clear, the pain especially so.

The 'toxins' came rushing up the back of her throat. She made a noise, covering her mouth.

Vincent produced a bowl, placed it in her lap.

She bent over, wincing, her eyes filled with tears, and vomited up the tranquilizer serum that hadn't yet entered her bloodstream. With it came blood, of course, that had been 'tainted' by the tranquilizer.

She wiped her mouth. "Ugh."

Vincent took the bowl from her and dropped a bottle of water in her lap. "Rehydrate."

And then he strode from the room.

Chekhai smiled. "That's a handsome one. You should snatch him up."

"We're not like that. How much for the food?"

Chekahi looked over at her, then shook her head. "For the Lady of Wutai and Master of the Pagoda? I may charge nothing." She withdrew a warfan from her left sleeve.

Snickt!

The warfan slid open.

"I offer you my services and the services of my family, should you ever require them, Lady Kisaragi. Yours to command, always and forever."

"Mine to obey," Yuffie managed, taking the warfan from Chekhai. "Always and forever, sworn in the name of Leviathan, witnessed by the Daughter of Da Chao."

"So do I swear."

Chekhai began to carry boxes of food to the dining room table. After the food, she set the places at the table, including the tea bowls that Yuffie had started storing in the coffee cup cabinet.

"You don't have to do that," she told Chekhai.

"I feel that I should. How many, exactly?"

"Uhh, there's Denzel, Marlene, Reeve, Vincent and me... So that's... uh, five of us. I think you set too many."

"Yes, I did. Three too many, and that's not even filling every chair. You have a large dining table."

"AVALANCHE," Yuffie replied. "Tifa is the Tifa from AVALANCHE."

"Ah, AVALANCHE. Well---"

But Chekhai got no further. Marlene came rushing into the room.

"Vincent said Reeve made you sick!" She demanded. "He didn't really, did he?"

"Vincent said something?" Yuffie replied, bewildered.

"Did he really make you sick?"

"Yes, he really made me sick. He was just trying to make me better, but Reeve's a dummy sometimes."

"C'n I give you a hug?"

She spread her arms, fighting back the wince. "Do your worst, kiddo."

Marlene did her worst. Yuffie didn't gasp or cry, but gawd, it hurt something awful. She didn't let Marlene know. It would probably scar her for life or something.

"Thanks, kiddo. That makes me feel way better. You should be, like, a doctor when you grow up."

"A doctor? Really?"

"Way totally, sunshine."

"Way totally? You promise?"

Yuffie grinned. "Absolutely. You'd be the greatest doctor ever. Get to wear a white coat and shout at stupid people and stitch 'em up and make 'em take bad-tasting medicine. That'd be some serious fun, huh?"

"I could make Denzel take yucky cough medicine and he'd have to 'cuz I'd be his doctor!" Marlene giggled.

"Totally! And he'd hate it and try and cough it up so you'd make him take more and then the nurses would hold him down and MAKE him swallow it!"

The two of them started conjecturing more and more ridiculous doctor situations, culminating in four burly nurses sitting on Reeve and giving him his rabies shot. Yuffie was reasonably sure that Marlene didn't know what rabies was, and equally sure that Eastern medicine didn't require rabies shots for humans, but hey, whatever! It kept Marlene laughing and not hugging her, and that was the important part (especially the laughing).

"Where is Reeve, anyway?" Yuffie asked. "I wanna see Vincent kick his ass--- butt!"

"Reeve's at the movie renting place. I wanted to go, but he said he wasn't renting Marlene 'n Denzel movies, he was renting grown up movies. How come you get to watch grown up movies and I don't!"

Yuffie blinked. The kid could switch topics without taking a breath. That took talent. Talent she'd thought only she possessed.

Must be a kid thing, she decided. "Uh, Marls? I am a grown-up. I'm eighteen, 'member?"

"But it's not fair!"

"But it is fair, sunshine. I'm eighteen, now."

Except it wasn't. She'd been watching 'grown up' movies from Denzel's age or younger.

Not that she was going to tell Marlene that. It'd start something she just didn't have the energy to finish, and might even put Ideas in the kid's head. Ideas with a capital I, Cloud had explained to Yuffie some time ago, would be very bad for Yuffie's health if Marlene started to get them.

Yuffie was making damn sure Marlene didn't get any from her.

"Aww, how come you gotta be older 'n me! You're too COOL to be a grown up!"

Yuffie grinned. "So's I can save the world, dummy. How's your math coming?"

"I hates it. Math is stupid. But I gotta have math so's I can add up bar tabs 'n stuff."

Yuffie shrugged. "I use most of my math to add up how much I've picked from people's pockets. ...Er, I used to. Now I use it to add up how much I'm spending on gas for the bike."

"D'you like your bike?"

"I totally love it. You were way right. Motorcycles are the SHIT, Marls OHGAWDDON'TTELLTIFAISAIDTHAT."

Marlene giggled just as somewhere in the house a door slammed open and Reeve shouted, "Luuuuuuuuucy, I'm hoooooooooooome!"

She could just imagine Vincent twitching. Thanks to her referring to Lucrecia as "that Lucy-whatever woman", Vincent was now reduced to a Berserked, twitching SHAMBLES of a man whenever he heard the name Lucy.

It was almost funny, really.

"Jenova on a pogo stick," she heard Reeve suddenly shout. Something hit the floor, several somethings, actually, and heavy booted footsteps thudded their way to the kitchen.

Reeve stared at her.

"Help me up?" She asked. "I wanna go eat at the dining table. Like a normal person."

"Who are you?" He replied.

"I am Chekhai, work at Silent Sun."

"Oh."

"I am just leaving?"

"Has she paid you?"

"No money needed. Happy to serve Empress of Heaven."

And with that, Chekhai bowed to Yuffie and moved towards the door, easily pushing Reeve aside to leave.

Vincent followed immediately after the woman's exit.

"That is one scary-ass lady," Yuffie said, recalling the woman's face as she offered the services of her family. She slid the war fan open and closed. "Hey, Vincent, can I be her when I grow up?"

"You've probably been to prison too many times."

"Only four, hah, and I escaped like THAT each time! So there!"

Vincent Looked at her, and then turned to Reeve. "Some doctor."

"Oh, shut up! So I misgauged her weight---!"

"You could have overdosed her."

"But she didn't OD, she's sitting there, in pain! You should have HEARD her, Vincent."

"I did."

"And you didn't just want it to stop hurting her? You didn't want to make her feel at least a LITTLE better?"

"Anaesthetizing a martial artist does more harm than good. Always."

"Cold bastard."

Marlene harrumphed. "Your FACE is a cold bastard!"

"MARLENE!" All three adults in the room hissed at once.