A/N: Really? Two posts in one week? OKAY! So, this is for my friend Katrina. She's been going through some shit, so...here ya go, Babe! Better late than never.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still own nothing.

"I don't like it."

"I don't care."

"You're not going alone."

"You're not Tseng. You have no right to order me around."

Vincent's crimson gaze narrowed at his lover. "How is it that your ex-lover ended up in the Anti Shin-Ra Database anyway?" he asked, his rough voice lower than normal.

Katrina took a healthy drink from her 'coffee', her eyes shining up at him in the dimly lit office. "Damn good fucking luck is all I can account it to," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "Fucker never was too bright. He left me, after all. Douche bag deserves to die."

"I believe it has something to do with one of your partners and her ability to 'find' anything on anybody."

The red-head smirked at the gunman. "You give Kandi too much credit," she said with a soft laugh. "Either that, or you think nothing of her morals."

"We're Turks. We don't have morals."

"Then what is the issue, exactly, Vincent?" she asked. "I'm just doing my fucking job."

"I thought you were over him."

Katrina laughed in indignation, rising to her feet. "Seriously?" she asked standing in front of him. "You're jealous of my fucking ex?"

An ebony eyebrow arched elegantly. "Should I be?" he asked. "Is there anything left for him?"

Expressive hazel eyes narrowed as she walked passed him and out the door. Vincent with left with nothing but his question hanging in the air.

Too many years wasted, too many tears cried. And all for this lousy asshole. This fucker with his shit eating grin plastered on his stupid face as he watched her undulate against the pole for his private entertainment.

"Where ya from, Baby?" she asked, the pulsating bass of Lady YaYa's 'Bad Romance' accentuated in every one of her moves.

"Around," he answered, always the evasive bastard. "I'm not paying you to talk. Lap dance, now."

Still a demanding little shit, like always, she thought, stepping down off the small platform of the private room. She straddled his lap and leaned in toward him, locking eyes with him.

"It's been awhile...Trina."

Her eyes narrowed as she draped her arms around his neck. "Yeah, B. It has," she murmured. "Didn't think you'd recognize me."

He gave her that gods damned annoying smirk, his hands spanning the small of her back with familiar ease and drifting down to cup her ass. "Hard to forget an ass like this, Babe," he breathed out, giving it a firm squeeze.

Katrina didn't answer. She just remained on his lap, arms locked around his neck. Had she really been in love with this guy? Had she really been ready to give up everything she ever dreamed of to be with him? Stupidity, young impulsive stupidity.

"Guess you never made it to law school, huh?" he scoffed. "Or are you, uh, working through school?"

Her arms tightened around his neck just slightly. "Nah, this is more a hobby than anything," she told him casually. "I mean, I know I have a bitchin' body and all, but I'm so much more than tits and an ass."

"Really?" he asked. "Since when? That was all you were when you were with me."

"I'm better than that, B," she snarled. "I'm better than you."

"Then why is it, Trina, that I'm paying you to dance and strip for me?" he leered. "Seems to me like that's all you are and ever have been. Without your looks, you're nothing. Hell, even with them, you're nothing. The only thing you were ever good for was giving me head. So why don't you shut up and put that big mouth to good use again, huh, Baby?"

That familiar shame she had felt when with him was returning. He always made her feel this way, like she'd never be anything. Gritting her teeth, she moved her hands up to rest on his shoulders. "Oh B...don't you want to know what my real job is?" she asked sweetly.

"Let me guess...waitress."

She snorted and laughed softly. "Hardly."

"Secretary."

A shake of the head, sending vibrant red locks dancing.

"Bartender."

"You really think so lowly of me, after all we shared?" she asked. "Did you ever love me, B?"

He reached a hand up and cupped her cheek, bringing her face to his. "How could someone like me ever love someone like you?" he asked. "That's comparable to a peacock loving a pigeon, Trina. You were a good fuck...for a while. But you could never hold my interest. You're just not good enough."

She activated the trigger on her ring, releasing the six-inch retractable spike and stabbing it through his jugular. His eyes widened as he felt the blood gushing from his artery. "Just so you know, Douche Bag," she snarled into his gasping breath. "I'm a fucking Turk. And, baby...you wouldn't know a good thing even if it stabbed you in the neck, Bitch."

Rising from his lap, Katrina watched as her former lover, the man who broke her heart, collapsed and lay dying in a puddle of his own blood. His eyes rolled back and the twitching stopped. He was gone.

And as she pulled on her coat and exited out the back, she realized something. After all he put her through, after all the shit she took from him, after killing him...she didn't feel any better.

Her heels clicked down the sidewalk as she left the strip club and headed back to her place. Katrina felt someone fall into step behind her, though they remained noiseless.

"You followed me?"

Silence. Then, "I told you, you weren't going alone."

The red-head stopped and turned toward the gunman, fresh tear tracks marring her cheeks. "Why, Vincent?" she asked. "Why can't you just let me go?"

He shook his head, stepping closer to her. "I can't do that, Katrina," he stated.

"I can handle myself!" she snapped. "I'm a Turk, damn it!"

Vincent reached out to brush the remaining tears away. "That's not the issue here," he told her gently.

"What is the issue, Vincent?" she growled.

"You are the most desireable woman I have ever met and I'll be damned if I let some asshole who was foolish enough to leave you take you from me," he snarled, grasping her by the back of the neck. "It's infuriating enough that I have to share you with that damned drummer, but I will gladly acquiese to that well before I let that filthy bastard lay a hand on you again."

"Well you don't have to worry about that because the fucker's dead," she hissed. "I did my job. It's over."

Vincent stared at her, his eyes searching her face. "I can't share you anymore," he said. "This has made me realize how much I need you. Axel..."

"It's done," she whispered, tears falling down her face again. "I don't want him; I want you."

His lips captured hers in a heated kiss, sealing those words and binding them. And now, with the roaring of an ambulance sirens echoing in her ears and it's lights flashing on her lover's face, Katrina felt...better.

A/N: Two kids and a new puppy...too many distractions! Hope my writing isn't lacking THIS TIME.