Disclaimer: Don't own, no no no. Disney and Squaresoft do, yes yes yes.

…

Ups and Downs

…

Cloud Strife was a young man who liked to think he wasn't afraid of anything. Cloud Strife was a young man on his way up in the Guard ranks. Cloud Strife was a young man who had his own figurative fan club, of which Tifa Lockhart and Lady Yuffie Kisaragi were founding members.

Cloud Strife was a young man who was currently terrified by a pair of green eyes and an innocent face. Aerith smiled up at him expectantly. They were on their first 'official' date, and he had taken her for a picnic by the Garden of Fountains. The Gardens were near the palace walls, a labyrinth of beautiful topiaries accented by tinkling crystal fountains that gave off a mystical glow. They were considered to be a more romantic setting, a perfect place where lovers could easily find a private place where they could…talk. Squall had ragged him for picking this particular setting, saying he was taking it a bit fast. Cloud was beginning to suspect his old friend was right. The two of them had been at the gardens for two hours already, and Cloud was quickly running out of conversation topics.

Then maybe it's time for a little less conversation, that little voice inside his head, the one he knew he shouldn't listen to, chimed. That little voice usually tended to sound just like Squall, not a comforting thought.

And Aerith was still staring at him. Great.

Cloud had never had any problems with girls before this. He and Squall were known as 'ladykillers' in their portion of Bastion Town. The femmes simply flocked to Cloud's blue-eyed…blondness and bad-boy reputation just like they loved Squall's rugged looks and sharp wit. For the most part, Cloud indulged them. If they wanted to make themselves a fool over him, why should he complain?

And now young Mr. Strife found the tables turned on him by the cosmic hand of Fate. He desperately racked his brain for something, anything to say, but was drawing a blank.

Fate really sucked a big one tonight, didn't it?

…

"Interesting dinner conversation," commented Tseng, sotto voce, as he and Shera strolled home. Shera turned worried eyes towards him.

"You don't think…?" she asked.

"Think what?"

"That…any of those things could really happen, do you?"

Tseng paused. "I do not wish to alarm you, Shera," he finally responded. "But I also do not wish to think that the Prince would put such weight on a trivial matter. He may be young, but he has had the burden of the Crown upon his shoulders ere he was born, and this has made him mature for his age, despite his behavior, which can, I admit, be…questionable at times. And the Count agreed with him on the possible threat; what more justification do you require?"

"None," Shera whispered. "But I could use some good news around here once in a while." It seemed as if the day's events had sucked all the emotional energy out of her like a vacuum. Tseng looked concerned. They were now standing outside her home.

"Are you all right, Shera?" He asked. The girl nodded. "I'm sorry I'm such a bore to be around today," she apologized. Tseng shook his head.

"You are never anything but a pleasure to spend time with, Shera. Now, I suggest you come to see Lady Yuffie tomorrow for lunch. That busted ankle of hers will be healing nicely, but she won't be allowed out for a few days, so she'll probably be so bored she'll resort to tormenting the staff, and, as you know, we can't have that."

Yuffie had fallen during her chocobo lesson that afternoon, and apparently she'd be fine, save a twisted ankle and a bruised ego. Shera smiled.

"I'd love to."

She'd almost declined, before remembering she didn't have lunch plans anymore. The initial surprise at that fact soon turned into misery, and Shera was left as depressed as she was that afternoon. She removed her hand from Tseng's arm. "I'm sorry," she apologized again, "But I feel very tired right now, and I'm afraid I won't be such good company."

Tseng seemed to accept that explanation. "Then I shall see you on the morrow, then, right?"

Shera nodded. "I'll be there."

"The time shall pass ever so slowly," Tseng said, bowing like a courtier. Shera knew he was just trying to cheer her up, but she felt inconsolable.

Shutting the door, Shera watched him go, precise and polished as usual. Good old Tseng. Ever the gentleman. Shera headed upstairs, nodding to their old butler, Pennyworth, and hid herself in her room. No doubt Squall would be back in a few hours, and Shera didn't think she could handle seeing him so happy and in love.

Because she couldn't be.

…

"So then I said that Cloud should just ask her out and be done with it if he was going to be whining all the time!"

Rinoa giggled. "Gee, Squall, way to be subtle!"

Squall grinned at her. "What can I say? I can't stand a man who doesn't have the courage to go after what he wants."

"Don't you mean a boy?"

Squall placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Pretty and cruel! Wow, hits a guy where it hurts!"

Rinoa smiled. "Man or boy, I appreciate that you didn't take as long as Cloud to figure out what you want."

"Mmm."

Squall leaned in for a kiss, but Rinoa held him at arm's length. "Squall?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think our relationship is a committed one?"

"Wha-? Oh, yeah. Completely."

Squall tried to kiss her again, but Rinoa clearly had more to say. "Squall?"

(Sigh) "What?"

"Be my partner for the Festival dances."

Squall jerked back as if he'd been burned. Being Rinoa's partner in all the Festival dances was as good as being engaged to her, even though she hadn't come out yet. People would automatically expect the two of them to be together forever, and residents of the Bastion took these sorts of rituals very seriously, fun as they were. I'm only 16! He thought in alarm. How the hell does she expect me to make that kind of a decision?

Rinoa was obviously awaiting an answer, but Squall just stood there, mouth open like some kind of fish. After a few minutes, Rinoa turned away. Squall found his voice.

"Wait, baby, don't be like that…"

Rinoa sighed. "Just forget it, Squall. Just…leave me alone for a little while."

"We'll take it a bit slower!"

"Funny," his girlfriend spat, "That's not quite what you say when you're trying to cop a feel, is it?"

"Rini…"

"Just leave me alone. I think we need to take a break for a little while, so you can sort your priorities out."

With that, Rinoa stalked off. Squall felt a rush of fury, and he shouted at her retreating back, "Fine then! You know, maybe it's you who needs to sort out her priorities, and learn how to not take things so seriously!"

She didn't react. Squall kicked the wall of a building near him, and yelped in pain. He must've fractured a toe or something. Great.

The brunet stumbled home through the early-spring air. Hobbling into the dark house, he tripped and fell over in the foyer, cursing loudly. His sister heard him and rushed down the stairs in her nightclothes. She reached Squall, who was moaning in pain and clutching his bad ankle. She poked the offending limb, making her brother squawk.

"Are you a closet sadist or something?" he hissed through clenched teeth. She brushed him off.

"Don't be such a baby, Squall," she muttered. "I have to see what's wrong."

"Right now, what's wrong is you trying to break the damned thing!"

"Me? No, dearest Squall, I think you've handled that better than I could already."

"It's broken then? Great."

Shera shook her head. "No, just sprained, so far as I can tell. What did you do to yourself?"

Squall was silent. Shera glared at her brother. "Squall," she said warningly, "I'm not in the mood for your sulking right now."

Squall looked uneasily at his foot, still in his sister's vicelike grip. "I kicked a wall," he muttered. Shera cocked her hard to one side. "Sorry, didn't hear. What did you do?"

Squall sighed. "I kicked a wall," he said, clearly and distinctly, cheeks burning. Shera stared at her brother, then she slapped him across the face with just enough force for it to sting. "You idiot!" she whispered frantically. "What on earth would possess you to do something so stupid?"

Squall didn't answer, but if looks could kill…Shera would be fried to a crisp at this point. "Rinoa," Squall finally said, without any elaboration. Shera nodded in understanding. "Oh."

"Ya know, you're luckier than you know, Sher," Squall said, attempting to get up and failing miserably. "Relationships bring you nothing but trouble. I'm done with it, you hear me, done! No more for me, I plan to be a highly desired bachelor for the rest of my life!"

It was an impressive speech, but Squall did not inspire any sense of admiration in his sole listener from his position sprawled on the floor. Shera sighed, helping him to stand. "Good for you," she murmured. "And should Rinoa come calling for you in a few days, I take it you won't go running to her side like a lovesick puppy?"

"Course not," Squall grunted as they slowly hobbled up the stairs. There was a pause. Then Shera looked at him. "That's…good, Squall. That's very mature of you."

And highly unlikely.

….

Cloud was in even deeper trouble than before, if that was at all possible. He was currently engaged in walking Aerith home, and neither of them had said anything for at least five minutes. The silence was suffocating. Squall never has this problem, the blond mused rather unfairly. As they stood outside Aerith's home in Middle Bastion, Cloud felt his palms grow sweaty and his breathing more rapid. What was he supposed to do? Kiss her? Shake her hand? Ask for another date?

Thankfully, that decision was taken off of his shoulders when Aerith did all three. She reached over, took his hand, and kissed him soundly on the lips. She pulled away, and whispered, "So, should we do this again sometime?"

Cloud kind of nodded, too dazed at that point to speak. Aerith smiled, and left him on the doorstep.

Cloud looked up at the house for a few minutes, imagining which window could be hers, before turning and stumbling home, head still in the clouds, to make a horrid pun.

…

Cid slammed his glass down. "'Nother round, barkeep," he mumbled. He sat at the dimly lit bar of The Bouncing Moogle, a tavern of some disrepute in Lower Bastion. This was a place where he could get completely smashed without anybody recognizing him or causing him annoyance.

"Oy! Cid!"

Well, he had hoped no one would recognize him.

The young man looked up into the genial face of Barrett Wallace. The large man slumped down next to the blond and slung a hefty arm about his shoulders. "So, whatchoo doin' down 'ere, eh?"

"Whassi- whassit look like?" Cid slurred. He wasn't drunk yet, oh no. Just tired.

"Looks like you got sommin' on yo' mind what you wanna forget. Or," Barrett paused, "Somebody."

"Shuttit."

Barrett grinned down at Cid. He was enjoying this too much to back off at this point.

"So it is, somebody, ain't it, Captain?"

Cid gestured at him rudely, vowing to keep silent. However, a combination of wracked nerves and alcohol works to loosen any tongue, and Cid Highwind was, upon occasion, a chatty drunk. A few more mugs, and he was spilling everything.

"She's- she's really prrrretty," he mumbled. "An-an sweet, and smart, and when she smiles it's all like, y'know, whoooah, funny feelings. But I gotta stop, gotta stop."

"Hmm? Stop what?" Barrett was confused. Cid's way with women in no way ever involved stopping, or even slowing down.

"Stop…thinking."

"Why?"

"She's…too sweet, too good. An- her dad…her father…no, couldn't work. Me 'n her…nah."

Cid's demeanor suddenly changed, and he shakily raised his glass. "Don' need her, anywaysss. Goo', gooood…riddance!"

Barrett tried to stop a grin. "Yeah, yeah, that's the spirit, Cid. Don' eva let a woman rule yo' life."

Cid nodded several times, and Barrett feared he'd fall over. "Yeah, who needs stupid ole Shera? Even if she is…pretty, and perfect, an…"

The blond man slumped forward on the table, passed out cold. Barrett looked at him in shock. Shera? As in…Shera? Naw, musta heard wrong. But…it coulda been her, I mean, he's gotta love 'er, the way she puts up with 'im.

Ah, well. Can't just leave 'im here. He's gonna be hearin' bout this tomorrow, though.

Feelin' it, too.

Barrett hoisted the smaller man over his shoulder, throwing a few coins back at the barkeep, and marched out of the tavern towards Upper Bastion.

…

Vincent snuggled down in the coverlet next to Lucrecia, running a hand over her belly. She stirred, waking up. Vincent sighed. "Sorry to wake you, love."

Lu mumbled a little bit, moving away from Vincent. She turned over to face him. "Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really think it's possible?"

"What?"

"That…well, you know…what Rufus said."

"Oh, that. Well, it's possible, even likely. I know my relatives, and Ansem's always been a greedy little wretch."

"How can you be so calm? I mean, what kind of a world will this baby grow up in?"

Vincent took Lucrecia's hand. "Lu, darling, it'll be all right."

"But how do you know?" Lucrecia was shaking. "I mean, we should at least let Master Hojo know…"

"No." Vincent's voice, though calm, was firm. "Hojo isn't going to know anything."

"You don't like him." It wasn't a question.

"I don't trust him, no."

"Well, there is one area in which we disagree, dearest." Lu turned away from him, ending the discussion.

…

A/N: Another chapter down, no major action so far. I imagine Hojo is laughing maniacally in a corner for this chapter. He'll be back next chapter, though, evil and plotting as always. And do we sense some marital unbliss for V and L? Not to mention, the Festival is still around the corner, and drama will come to a head. And I promise some Yuffieness next chapter.