Beyond Paradise II

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuffie, Vincent, or anything/anybody else in this fiction, they belong to Square Enix. I also don't own previously established fictitious characters such as Moira, Zeb, or Jethro. They were created by the original fan fic's author, tolerant. This is not an "official" sequel by the original author, more like a tribute by me since the original has been discontinued, unfortunately. I am not affiliated with tolerant in any way, shape, or form (other than being a fan, of course).

[04/27/2013 Quick Note: I think I might be coming back to this. Please, be patient. I've been quietly practicing my writing on an independent project for the past few years now, and lately, out of the blue, I've been entertaining the idea of conducting a major overhaul for this entire story. Why have I seemingly disappeared, you may be asking? I got so cocky with BP2 that I wrote things I never should have. In fact, it got to the point where I've been cringing in disgust every time I've thought back to this work. I hope to change this.]

Author's note: Since the original Beyond Paradise by tolerant (story id: 1927645) has been discontinued with no updates for over 4 years, I decided to pick up where the original story left off in it's semi-cliffhanger. I was impressed with Beyond Paradise in comparison with the numerous other Yuffentine tales I've read due to it's emphasis on an adventurous, story-driven plot and especially believable character development, rather than the straight "jumping into the love-making" or whatnot I've observed in other fan fictions. I personally find this quite uncharacteristic of the two protagonists — but then again, this is a website for fan fiction where anything goes, so to each there own, of course! Anyways, in Beyond Paradise, similar to the series canon, Vincent is a quiet, serious, and outwardly stoic person who purposely distances himself from all others while mentally suppressing his literal demons within, in stark contrast to Yuffie's childishly immature, playfully outgoing and endlessly talkative nature. Yet, seemingly against many odds, they somehow discover a connection and begin forming a close (albeit unlikely, particularly on the secluded gunslinger's part) bond. Despite that, it still remains a "believable" Yuffentine that looks as if it could actually really fit within the FF7 mythos and fill in the rich, though untouched, gap between FF7 and Advent Children. I present you with my sequel tribute to my favorite Yuffentine story by far, starting with a prologue (in actuality, the first half of which being the very last scene of the very last chapter from the unfinished Beyond Paradise) to "bridge the gap," so to speak. Honestly, I'm not used to writing in a few of tolerant's literary mannerisms, but to preserve a more authentic feel, I will do my best where I feel them applicable.

Also like in the original, tolerant made a habit to include various poems by Shel Silverstein in the beginning of all her chapters, explaining that they each had a subtle little connection to their respective chapters. I've chosen to continue this practice, but differently. The Silverstein poems seem to relate to Yuffie, so for most of the "sequel" I'm using a different writer with tidbits that apply a little bit more to Vincent this time around (But if not, they will still be less bubbly than the Silverstein ones), something I'm really looking forward to.

Finally, I highly suggest you read the original Beyond Paradise not only for being a great piece of fan fiction, but to actually understand what the story is and who the original author's created characters are, as jumping straight into this "sequel" may just confuse you. Nevertheless, I will still do what I can in allowing this to stand alone as much as possible).

Never hunger, never prosper
I have fallen prey to failure
Struggle within, triggered again
Now the candle burns at both ends
Twisting under schizophrenia
Falling deep into dementia

The Frayed Ends of Sanity
- James Hetfield

- Prologue: Promises Are For Keeping

AVALANCHE had won. AVALANCHE had saved the planet. But, the people they had risked their lives for were not happy, and a new group arose in the weeks following the events at North Crater who united under a banner against our heroes. They vowed revenge for everything they believe AVALANCHE was responsible for: all the recklessness, all the loved ones lost, and all the lives forever broken. Seeking answers and an end to the hostilities, AVALANCHE reunited once again a mere month after Meteorfall and set out to confront the leader of these rebels. The intention was to restore peace to what was supposed to be the much desired, and long-overdue, calm.

Over the many days of their investigations, Vincent found himself regularly paired up with the young princess of Wutai, Yuffie, and subsequently began developing a sort of bond with the little ninja. This came as somewhat of a shock to the others. Sure, history was destined to paint their portrait as an unlikely band of faithful comrades, but in the earlier years, such a pairing proved to be nothing short of bewildering. The travels with Vincent Valentine before Meteorfall imprinted memories of the gunman as a quiet, apathetic man who refused to let anyone get too close to him. By the gods, however, Yuffie found a way, starting with that day she forbade the caped-man from returning to his coffin.

After gaining a new ally in the form of the rebel leader's right-hand man, Jethro, and losing three beloved members of the team — Barret, Nanaki, and Reeve — to the comatose Dreamland conjured up by the evil magical jester known as Moira (a chaotic "pawn" of the rebel group's leader with a personal agenda of her own) who has been stalking the members of the group, Cloud, Tifa, Jethro, Yuffie, Vincent, and an injured Cid who is expected to recover on his own time, have set out to face off against Zeb, the enemy leader. They must remain alert during every mile of the journey, as Moira watches tirelessly. This is essential, as she has proven to hold the ability to simply blink in and out of existence. She also has the terrifying power to possess those in their slumber, and even spirit them away to an otherworldly plane.

Those left still able to fight make their way to Midgar with the burning desire to make the anti-AVALANCHE rebel leader, Zebadiah "Zeb" Mahonney, pay for everything he has done.

After a full day of walking, the downsized group set up camp and built a small fire to sit around. Yuffie, whom had been silent for the long walk after waking up in a fit of tears, sat herself down closest to the fire, arms wrapping tightly around drawn up knees. Tifa, worried about the girl while they walked on in silence, sat beside the little ninja, one hand resting lightly on the Wutaian's arm.

"Yuffie, are you alright?" The older woman tried to smile, but it came out far too fake. "You can tell me, you know..." This she was sincere about, but she couldn't smile. Not truly.

Yuffie shook her head and shrugged, more to remove Tifa's hand from her arm than to respond to anything. The hint was taken and Tifa slowly got up and left her to her thoughts.

There was an awkward silence as the others began to settle themselves around the fire, each trying to start a conversation, sans Vincent, but not knowing how. Cloud cleared his throat uncomfortably, figuring that if anyone was going to say something, it would have to be him. He opened his mouth and...

"I think, since Yuffie's slept for most of the day, she and I should keep watch as the others sleep," Jethro spoke up, smile and intentions apparent in his eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as four pairs of eyes glared straight through him. "Well, it would make sense..."

"He has a point. Yuffie has slept through most of the day... so she and someone else will keep watch while the other three sleep," Cloud said, making a point that it wouldn't be Jethro alone with Yuffie.

The Wutaian snorted and stretched her legs out into a 'V', her torso falling between her legs and her arms stretching out in front of her, fingertips brushing the rocks around the small fire. "You talk like I'm not here, sheesh. Vinnie can stay up with me. At least I know he won't yammer my ear off." There was a pause as everyone seemed to attempt to register this joke. "Ugh, never mind! Go to sleep, Vincent and I will watch out for anything suspicious! ...like the tooth fairy."

Within a number of minutes, the three were asleep and all that remained was Yuffie, Vincent, and a dying fire.

"Sorry for forcing you into sentry duty again. You can go to sleep if you want," Yuffie said softly, gaze traveling to her silent companion.

Vincent didn't even look at her. "You didn't tell Tifa was what troubling you." It wasn't a question, but Vincent's statement did call for a response.

Yuffie shrugged and decided the fire was more interesting than a stone-still Vincent. "You eavesdrop on us?"

"It was so quiet that not listening is nearly impossible."

"Nearly, but can still be done. Never thought you had it in you, Mr. Big and Bad Valentine." She chuckled to herself and shook her head. "Nothing was or is wrong. I just had a bad dream."

"You woke up crying."

"Bad dream," Yuffie repeated, fighting not to glare at him. "It's over now. Let it go." A silence followed and Yuffie soon feared she had angered him. "Vinnie..?"

"What happened to your leg?" Vincent shifted slightly, but this movement managed to get him around the fire to sit beside the princess, human fingers pressing lightly on the bruise that had gone unseen until now.

Yuffie blinked down at the purple and black spot on her shin and, intelligently, poked her own finger into the center of it. "It doesn't hurt..." she said thoughtfully, poking at it again. Finally, she shrugged and stared back at the fire. "I probably got it from fighting that Zolom yesterday, in which you didn't help at all until the end," as if just the fact that he hadn't been there to help her out would jog his memory of the fight.

Vincent seemed to ignore this and turned watch the fire sizzle and die with its last breath. "It will be getting cold... You should go into the tent and sleep with the—"

"No!"

The outcry caught him by surprise and he shot her a quick glare.

A head popped out of the folds of the tent and Tifa stared tiredly at them. "Anything wrong?" she asked in the midst of a yawn. Both shook their heads and Tifa frowned slightly. "Then keep quiet..." And she was gone back into the tent.

Yuffie let out a heavy sigh and rubbed at the back of her head. "I guess this means no more talking, huh?" She looked up to Vincent and put up a lopsided grin. "That means shut up, Vinnie."

The caped man chose to make no comment and simply poked a stick into the embers of what was once a fire. Silence reigned and he could feel Yuffie shift uncomfortably beside him, fighting off the chills of the dark night. Soon, a smaller hand gently fell over the hand that held the stick and he stopped his attack on the embers.

"Yuffie..."

"I thought I said shut up," she half-whispered as she pried his fingers from the stick. "Be a gentleman and don't let me freeze," she continued, forcing his arm to drape lazily over her small shoulders, thus bringing the cape around with it so only her head popped up beside him. If anyone were to look now, they would believe Vincent had two heads instead of one.

And if Barret or Cid were awake... they'd tell him he had five demons... Yuffie thought sadly to herself. "Tomorrow... we'll make Zeb pay for everything he's done," she murmured, taking in a deep breath to fight off the frustration Moira gave her in her dreams. Suddenly, the familiar scent from her dreams drowned her senses and her body stiffened. "Vincent!" she squirmed slightly beneath his arm and smiled up at him as he stared at her quizzically. "Thanks."

Vincent didn't know how to respond. The warmth from her body, the feeling of her heart beating, the scent that was only hers... It was confusing his demons and giving him a headache. He had to get her away from him. "Yuffie, I—"

"Vincent, stop talking. You'll wake everyone up," the Wutaian ninja said as she rested herself comfortably against him. "Oh, one more thing."

Vincent watched her from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be any closer than he already was. "Yes, Yuffie?"

"Protect me like Cloud does for Tifa..?" she knew it sounded stupid. Like it would come from a hopeless romantic. Well, Leviathan be damned if she wasn't one.

He found this to be strange, but no matter how much his mind screamed for him to avoid any and every subject that included the Wutaian princess, he found his voice breaking past his lips and speaking from what he had believed was a long-since dead emotion.

"Yes, Yuffie..."

—

Vincent found it hard to believe that Yuffie could bring herself to sleep after having done so for nearly half the entire day. That, coupled with the fact that she had just somberly told him that her fear of getting thrown into another nightmare was incentive enough to stay awake, prompted him to question the young girl's personal focus. Seeing as how it was typical Yuffie manner, however, he shrugged it off.

"It was so real…" he thought back to her explaining her nightmare, her voice in a trance-like murmur as if she was envisioning the dream at that very moment. "She claimed the wasteland around me was the Promised Land. And there were hands. I think they were the dead, and I heard their voices, too. They all begged me to help them, and they pulled me down and wouldn't let go… until something saved me. "Someone" saved me, drove them away."

She had been talking of Vincent. The familiar scent she spoke of turned out to be him, she explained. He didn't understand how he had truly helped. All he had done was carry her as she slumbered. He then rationalized that it may have been on a subconscious level.

In whatever case, she felt safe and secure with him. This was a realization which perplexed Vincent, no matter how much sense it may or may not have been making. He once again reminisced about the incident at the Ghost Hotel, when, while under possession by that jester, he had shot Yuffie. Why she continued to willingly stay around him, let alone having had chosen him, of all people, to talk over the dream she refused to share with even Tifa, was just one droplet amidst a myriad of thoughts that coursed through his mind on quiet occasions like this.

The midnight air was freezing, and with the fire gone, Yuffie would shift her body every so often to bury herself deeper and deeper into his warmth. It was a wonder that Vincent could keep still, because it wasn't so much a gentle kind of nuzzling like the movements of a cooing kitten, but a sudden jerk in a random direction as she mumbled something about various pastries. This didn't stop Vincent from staring blankly at the last dying embers of the exhausted bonfire, fixated on the demons that resided within the darkest recesses of his psyche. The howling winds of Chaos' existence appeared to be stronger than usual. To Vincent, they seemed colder and darker.

What are you up to this time . . .? Vincent thought to himself while stepping through the blank void.

He marched through the nothingness, eyes fixed forward even as the cackling, taunting figures of Death Gigas, Hellmasker, and the Galian Beast circled the mental vision of Vincent.

"Chaos!" he shouted.

The winged creature was slumped comfortably upon a simple stone throne covered in ice. Its eyes were shut in meditation, though fully aware of Vincent's presence.

"Why have you been helping me? Why have you been helping Yuffie?"

No response, as usual.

"What do you want with her?"

The three lesser demons laughed as they spun round on geometrical ends, eying the shadow.

"I want some answers! Now!"

Chaos wasn't even reacting at all.

Vincent stood there with his fist clenched in anger, glaring at the creature. Though they sometimes had their uses — Chaos' wisdom in particular being a desirable, yet rarely attainable and frustratingly cryptic, prize — he hated these demons, these vile tormentors that mocked him for sins long passed whenever he closed his eyes.

The eternal punishments he felt he deserved for what happened to Lucrecia all those years ago were burdens that he would have to frequently fight to control day in, day out, night after night. Sometimes, he could temporarily suppress them for long, glorious periods, and other times they ran free to anguish him mercilessly. It was an affliction that was for him and him alone to bear; always in his mind.

"Damn it," Vincent murmured with a heavy, defeated sigh as he dropped his fist and glared at the floor that was not there.

No matter how big or small, no matter how piercingly strident or deathly aloof, his demons seemed to find any way to add to his deepest-hid feelings of anguish and self-perceived uselessness. Though the lack of worth and self-esteem he used to feel incessantly had significantly receded since his adventures with the ragtag group of wayward misfits he'd come to accept as his friends, these things just knew exactly how to scratch and tear at his very soul. They were him, in a way. He felt like he was getting nowhere again, and began to think of just giving up this time. Vincent knew that besides their beastly groans and malicious cachinnations, they did not speak, though whether because they lacked the ability, or simply chose not to, was beyond him.

Out from the corners, a ghastly mist floated sluggishly past the mental vision of Vincent and settled in front of the frozen throne. It began to swirl. It happened slowly at first, but it gradually picked up speed, forming into a humanoid shape with distinct colors he recognized. Flashes of green and white stabilized into the solid form of a small, blue-haired girl in a jester outfit pulling her purple lips back into a sickening smile. The unexpected appearance of Moira, the puppet responsible for the horrible things that befell AVALANCHE, infuriated Vincent. His crimson eyes boiled at the jester's steely blues until the upper half of the young girl's face was obstructed from view by the sharp fingers of Chaos.

Her smile endured the grab, as if nothing had happened. The small bells that dotted the jester's outfit rang lightly as Vincent observed Chaos lifting the small figure, it's inhuman yellow hues transfixed on the gunslinger. With it's mouth opened wide in a fanged grin, a disturbingly sadistic enthusiasm streaking across the demon's leering pale face, it crushed the puppet's wooden head within it's fist with a sudden, effortless squeeze. Vincent stood quietly, watching the splinters sprinkle down to the shadowy floor. On top of that, the jester's wooden body crumpled itself into an awkward heap.

Chaos licked it's bottom lip in satisfaction and continued to gaze upon the mental vision of Vincent. The gunslinger had a bad feeling about what was to come.