This was originally written for a challenge over at the KH drabble comm on LJ ages ago, so when I came across it again, I figured I'd post it here too. This came about as a mixture of the prompt 'sweet things' and my attempt to fit Shera somewhere into KH-canon, because who else is going to humour Cid's tea addiction?

Takes place during KHI. Concrit would be very much appreciated! Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney; Final Fantasy VII to Square Enix. Completely non-profit, as evidenced by my monthly countdown to payday.

Two Sugars.

Cid was nothing if not a practical man, and that was why if anyone asked him about Shera, he would tell them three things: that she had been a genius with machinery, that she had known people like the back of her hand, and finally that she had made a damn good cup of tea.

Anything else was for him alone on nights such as this where he stood at the shop counter with only the silence and a mug of tea that never quite tasted right for company. He would stand there and remember how she used to bring him meals when he became too absorbed in his work to think to eat; remember how her hand had felt in his; remember how she'd smelt of flowers under the oil. Of course, he tried not to remember her screaming over the intercom to leave right now or you'll all die or the slow sinking realisation in the weeks to come that she was never going to be amongst the crowds of refugees at the gates of Traverse Town.

He still talked to her (when he was alone, of course- it wouldn't do to have the others thinking he'd lost it), grumbled about this and that- Yuffie's latest antics, Squall's insistence that he wasn't Squall any more, how the fate of the universe now rested on some cheeky brat with an oversized key. He imagined her gentle smile as she sat there- surely just behind him, just out of sight- listening to him and thinking up a considered suggestion or two before standing to go and fetch more tea.

Of course, she never was there, not really, no matter how much he tried to pretend and tried to pretend that he wasn't pretending.

He drained the last of the mug and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste that he never mentioned to anyone. It seemed that it was true: there were just some things that you couldn't get back after all.