Author's Note: Hey everyone; sorry about the long wait, again. Hopefully you still enjoy it!



When we got to the company car in the parking garage (mine was out of commission due to Yuffie's stink bomb prank) she looked at me over the roof of the car, eyes anxious and entirely too innocent. "Why did you kiss me?" she asked simply.

She was holding the passenger door open, waiting for my reply, and I vomited the best one I could think of as quickly as I could. "Would you have rather I put laxatives in your coffee?"

xxx

The ride to Tifa's bar was mostly silent, but for the sake of sanity I attempted to strike up a conversation, which was mostly met with one-word answers of dismissal. I sighed and resorted to concentrating on the road, willing to understand the likelihood that her mind was running in circles around one subject alone.

I let the silence settle, winding down streets until the familiar tavern beacon caught my eye. "Almost there," I muttered.

"I know," she replied, and it bothered me how very little emotion was on her face or in her voice.

I parked and pulled off my seatbelt, pausing to glance over at her. She was staring ahead of us at the front door of the bar, her belt still latched, but hand on the buckle as if she had meant to undo it but had gotten distracted.

"Yuffie?"

"You know when you have this plan in your head? When you have it all figured out how your life is going to turn out? But all of the sudden, something happens to make you wonder if that's really the way life is going to go."

I didn't reply, simply gazing at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

"I'm in love with him, Reeve."

I knew, but my heart clenched in misery anyway.

"But..." her voice cracked. "But I don't know if that's the way my life is going to pan out, you know?"

It took every ounce of strength in me to reach over and take her hand, reminding myself again and again that she didn't need a love triangle, she didn't need my love; she needed a friend.

"You'll never know until you go in there, Yuffie," I replied, surprised at how level and confident my voice sounded. She looked over at me and I flashed at her my most winning smile, squeezing her hand. "Come on, I'll go with you. It'll be fine."

She finally made it out of the car and we headed toward the bar with me in the lead and the usually confident ninja in toe, too frightened to look over my shoulder.

"Come on, Yuffie," I said, half glancing at her. "He's been gone a long time, I'm sure he misses you."

"Not enough to come home on his own," she muttered in response.

I faced away from her and swallowed uneasily. The pain coursed through my veins relentlessly, but I couldn't tell what hurt me more; knowing Yuffie was in love with Vincent, or listening to her heart broken words.

xxx

Tifa saw us first. "Hi Reeve! Hi Yuffie!"

I smiled and waved. "Good afternoon, Tifa. Is the gang all here?"

"All but Cid," she replied. "I sent him to get a couple cases of beer."

I laughed. "Celebration is well under way, then?"

As we reached the doorway, I could see more of them. Cloud and Barret greeted us from behind their drinks, and Marlene and Denzel waves furiously from where they were playing with Nanaki.

Vaguely I could sense Yuffie was feeling less anxious, simply by the way that he hand loosened its grip on my coat. I could also tell she had seen Vincent, but for a different, more obvious reason.

"YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!"

"Yuffie, language!" Tifa barked.

The ninja didn't hear her, and I followed her gaze to the corner of the bar that I should have known would occupy the gunslinger.

"I WAS WORRIED SICK."

He stood graciously and bowed his head apologetically, looking up just in time to see her fly at him, and to catch her in his arms.

I swallowed uneasily as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and had to look away when he eased his arms around her, holding her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I missed you, you jerk," she muttered into his shoulder.

"I missed you too. I have... been meaning to speak to you." Missed? Wanting to speak to her? Who the hell was this man? I felt if I dwelled on it any longer, my bitterness would soon have me thinking illogically.

"Tifa?" I looked to her for a distraction, and she seemed to sense it.

"How about a beer?"

"That sounds perfect."

xxx

It was usually up to Vincent to be the loner in the corner, but since he was outside speaking to Yuffie, I took on that role myself.

I should really have been happy for her. Vincent's response to her greeting was overall favourable, and now she at least had her friend back. It's getting repetitive, these thoughts of mine. Over and over they circled around my desire to see Yuffie happy, and how I should be satisfied by the fact that all would be well when Vincent was back and she was smiling again.

Well here we were; Vincent was back, Yuffie was smiling, and I was depressed. In reflection, I suppose I hadn't truly believed Vincent was going to be any different when he came back. I had been banking on him being callous and uncaring toward the emotionally vulnerable girl who was hoping to win his affections. Why? Because I'm a horrible person, that's why.

I'd been fooling myself with this selfless act. It was all just a way of preserving myself and my feelings up until this point, but now I was left to face the dismal defeat of my carefully made plans. I wanted to be the arms she could fall into when her infatuation with Vincent fell through. I wanted to be there for her, let her cry on my shoulder, dry her tears and be the one who showed her she was beautiful and show her that she deserved more than to be brushed aside by a broken man confused about his own existence.

I'm not sure when I had fooled myself into believing this would be the way things would go, but now that it was plain that my scheme wasn't going to work, I felt all the more bitter because of it. I was convinced that Vincent and Yuffie were out on the porch explaining to each other how they felt and carefully treading around the remains of their friendship; picking up the pieces required for the journey into the land of 'something more'.

Tifa smiled at me from the bar where she was chatting with Cid, who had returned not long ago with his promised delivery of alcohol. I offered a weak grimace of a smile in return, making half an attempt at looking like I was enjoying myself. I really just wanted to go home. I wanted a long hot shower, a glass (or bottle) of wine and to fall asleep with classical music blaring through my condo.

I was beginning to plot my escape when I heard my name from across the room, and saw Cid waving me over, luring me with the prospect of another beer.

I wanted to decline, but it wasn't in my nature, no matter how badly I wanted to sulk. I was in politics. It was bred into me to smile and act as if everything were perfect when really everything was going to hell in a hand basket.

I joined them with a friendly greeting, sitting on a stool next to Cid.

"Glad you've joined us, there, Reeve. What were you doing way the hell over there nursing a beer with a glare set to kill?"

I laughed it off, reaching for a full bottle. "Just a stressful day today."

"Tell me about it. This whole fuckin' week has been one fuckin' thing after another. I'm sick of it, damnit."

Tifa smiled sympathetically. "But at least Vincent is safe now, right?"

"Yeh, I suppose things'll start looking up now."

"One can only hope," I commented half-heartedly.

"Where in hells name is he, anyway?"

"Outside," I replied, a little too quickly. "With Yuffie."

"Ahh. Well the girl deserves the chance to rip him a new asshole. Leaving her high and dry like that. It's not right that. Not what good friends are meant to do."

"I think he had some things to work out," Tifa said plaintively. "I think the time alone was what he needed."

"Ain't no excuse for not tellin' no one where he was off to, y'know? We was all worrying sick over the bastard and he was just hanging out, happy as a clam, under that damn waterfall. He coulda been dead and not one of us would have known any different," Cid argued, glaring at the door that lead to where the pair were apparently hashing it out.

I was reminded again of the long week of morose Yuffie; the pranks, the rants, the tearful breakdowns. "She hasn't been herself."

"Can you blame her?" Tifa asked. "She's had a crush on him for forever."

As much as I wanted to, no, I couldn't blame her. I was a demonstration of the rule that you couldn't help who you fell in love with, and Yuffie was no exception. However, I retained the right to my belief that you can fall in love with the wrong person. Whether that was the case for Yuffie or for me, I wasn't sure.

"I sure wish he'da just called."

The martial artist's knuckles crack and my head jerks to see her kneading one hand into the palm of the other. "I just hope he's sorted things out, because if he thinks he can get away with hurting her, he's got another thing coming to him."

They were both absorbed in their own thoughts. Cid's perspective the fatherly role-model to the girl, and Tifa's the best girlfriend and confidant.

I wondered where I fit in. Was I just the shoulder to cry on while everyone else was gone? Would she have chosen Tifa to talk to over me? Would she have gone to Cid with her pranks?

They probably would have handled her better than I. They would have been concerned entirely for her, rather than this selfish half hate of a man who had once been a good friend that I was feeling. It made my stomach churn.

I'm a good man. A good guy. A nice guy, even. I'm that guy who is easy going, still strict enough to work in politics, but generally just a nice guy. And yet here I was, actually disappointed that a friend had come home safely, and selfishly wishing that the girl outside with him was instead in here with me. I was sitting there actively wanting to physically remove her from the guy she claimed to be in love with.

"Another beer, Tifa?" I hadn't even realized I had finished mine when I asked for the next, but sure enough, I looked down at the bottle in my hands to find it was empty.

"Alright, but I'll need your keys for the time being."

I handed them over wordlessly; I'd sleep on the couch if I had to.


Author's Note: Well there it is. I'm not overly pleased with it, but at least it's here.