9. Title: Drug

Timeframe: One year after DoC
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Moderate DoC
Notes: It had to come out sometime… and who better to see it than Ms. Unrequited Affections herself? I really don't know my stance on Cloud/Tifa. I like it if it's done well, I guess. I dunno.

Sorry this is so late! This was somehow harder to write than the others… Huh.

"Warning: May cause heart palpitations. Dependency may occur. Consult doctor for further use."
–Drug warning label.

"What's she doing here?"

Startled by the anger in the younger woman's voice, Tifa looked up from the table. Leaning on the half-cleaned surface, she followed the dark-eyed gaze to the front door, where a pair of familiar figures stood, one already moving towards a corner table. A chorus of gruff male voices welcomed him over. He took a seat, careful not to disturb the cut of his uniform, and the two older men dealt him into the game, their heads already wreathed in Cid's smoke. The other new arrival stayed rooted to the spot, tucking short, pale-brown hair behind her ears.

With a sigh, Tifa bent back to work. "Shelke has as much of a right to visit as you do, Yuffie."

The ninja swung her legs back and forth on the stool. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered.

As much as she tried, she couldn't find it in herself to like the girl. Everything she did rubbed Yuffie the wrong way. No matter how much time passed, Shelke never seemed to change more than her clothing. Her voice remained the same—a grating monotone, Yuffie thought—and it seemed to be hard for her to form connections deeper than that of acquaintances. From Yuffie's perspective, that sort of stubbornness was worse than even Vincent's. He, at least, had horrible trauma—or something, she was never quite sure what exactly the whole "Giant materia chick" issue had been—to keep him set in his ways.

Much to her chagrin, the girl approached, and Yuffie braced herself for whatever bomb Shelke was probably going to drop. She never brought good news—not even on her sporadic visits with her employer. As always, Tifa greeted her warmly. The welcome appeared to fall on deaf ears. Cool, mako-eyes regarded the two women, Yuffie especially. The ninja kept her own eyes on the bar and her glass.

"Is Vincent here?"

"I think he's upstairs, talking to Cloud," replied Tifa, easily covering her friend's stubborn silence. "That is, if you call what those two do 'talking'." There was a definite, teasing smile in her voice.

Without a reply—perhaps she nodded her head, Yuffie didn't look up to check—Shelke headed for the stairs.

The passing of time grated at her. Each time she looked up at the clock, part of her willed it to slow down or to stop altogether. The times when she looked over at the stairs were the worst. Especially after Cloud had come down. Occasionally, someone would yell at her to join the game, or get them more drinks. She shook her head at their requests, and it was up to Tifa to do her job. All she could do was sit there, waiting, bruising her hand by clenching her fists. She didn't even realize she'd been doing so until Tifa gently, yet firmly, uncurled them for her.

"What's the matter?"

"Huh?" She managed to tear her eyes away from the stairs long enough to meet her friend's eyes. "I'm okay!"

Tifa's skeptical expression looked remarkably like Cloud's, save for the smile. " 'Okay' never means staring off into space for two hours, looking fit to kill," she said. Resting her elbows on the counter, she leaned down to look Yuffie in the eye. "What's on your mind?"

She pushed her empty glass across the bar. It was infinitely more interesting than anything else in the room. "What's she got to talk about anyway?" she muttered, well aware of how childish the words sounded. "I can't even get a real conversation outta the guy and she's been up there two whole hours! What's so interesting about a stupid computer anyway? I mean, that's all she really is…"

"You're jealous?"

The words stopped her rant in its tracks. "I'm… what?" she managed, feeling her cheeks color. "I am not!"

Am I?

"It's all right, Yuffie." The smile was back in Tifa's voice. "I understand. If it were me, in your situation, I don't think I'd be happy with this either." She stood, turning to clean one of the glasses their card-shark friends had accumulated. "But, really, they're just friends, I think… You don't have to worry about that."

"And why would I be worried?" she shot back, folding her arms.

When Tifa turned back around, Yuffie was fully prepared to explain away any conclusion the other woman had drawn. And to do so with all the indignation her slight body could muster. However, the next words left all her carefully organized explanations hanging in the wind, blown away.

"Because, you love him, don't you?"

Innocent enough, but they froze her all the same. "I… what…?" was all that would come. Not even hot anger, not even resentment, could thaw the sudden, cold realization that slowly drew itself over her. Her heart hammered in her chest, so loud she swore the entire bar could hear. She wanted to deny it.

But, that would be a lie, wouldn't it?

She cared for him, sure. It was hard not to care about someone whose life you kept saving, someone who you'd been traveling with for years. They were partners, they were friends. Of course she'd come to care for him. But love?

Think about it, stupid. You know him better than anyone. You've lived with him out on assignment for ages. Hell, you're practically sleeping together.

That wasn't love, was it? Love wasn't what she felt. Love was something that turned you into a fawning pile of goo that took long walks in parks, held hands constantly, or left you whispering simpering nothings at the object of your affections.

All right, but look at Cid. He's in love too, right? Has he changed much? At all?

A glance in the pilot's general direction answered that question—and it was very much a "no". What exactly was love then? How did it apply to Vincent and herself?

You want to protect him. You don't want to leave his side. You take care of him. You want to make him smile, ruffle his feathers. You want him to be happy—if that's even remotely possible. And it irks you when someone else does it before you do.

Could that mean…?

"I don't know," she murmured. "I really don't know…" She couldn't look up.

Tifa started to speak, but the sound of feet, metal-shod feet, on the stairs cut her off. The ninja's heart skipped a beat. At the first sight of the familiar black and red attire, the omnipresent lack of expression, she felt her pulse settle. He met her glance, nodded, then headed for the direction of the card game, summoned by the gamblers' demands.

Despite herself, she felt herself relax. When he turned those eyes on her, she felt, she knew, nothing could go wrong. She'd grown so used to it, out on the road. She had no idea being deprived of even that minimal regard could send her through such a withdrawal.

Told you so.

Something must have changed in her eyes, for Tifa reached out, taking her hands. "You need to tell him," she whispered. "He needs to know."

She felt herself go cold again. "I can't… I mean… what if… but there's still… What if he's… and that materia chick…" All her excuses seemed to dry up under the other woman's scrutiny.

"Yuffie, listen." Now it was Tifa's turn to examine her hands. "You should tell him. The worst that can happen…" Her warm gaze turned then toward the table, falling over their second silent companion. The smile she wore turned sad. "The worst that can happen is that nothing changes… that you stay the way you've always been… friends." She sighed softly. "And, there's nothing wrong with that, now is there?"

No further words came. She could only offer her friend a squeeze of hand before Tifa pulled away, going back to her duties with a smile that only seemed a little forced. Still, Yuffie said nothing. They both had their problems, but nothing seemed fully capable of curing either one, save the option they were loathe to try.