CHAPTER 1: Torn
Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the characters, ideas, worlds, ect. of FFVII

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Yuffie's heart throbbed against her ribs as she impatiently bounced her knee up and down. She glanced over at the timer sitting on the bathroom counter: 2 minutes left.

"Oh Leviathan, this takes forever!" she groaned nervously. It was the longest two minutes of Miss Kisaragi's life; her life would drastically change if that stick justified her doubts.

The timer beeped when it had reached its limit. Yuffie shut her eyes tightly, whispering last minute prayers before she hastily read the result.

Yuffie covered her mouth with one hand as she gasped.

'Positive.'

Tears welled in her eyes and her heavy heart sunk deep within her stomach.

"Oh Gods…," Yuffie hiccupped. She silently cried, forehead falling into palms; she shook her head slowly as negative thoughts raced through her mind.

'How the Hell am I going to tell him?!' Yuffie screamed within her head. This was not the way she had planned their relationship; she meant to be married before she decided to have a baby. She threw the pregnancy test into the waste basket and hurried out of the bathroom.

Yuffie paced around her bedroom for awhile, grabbing her hair and rubbing her face, as if to try and wake herself from this horrid dream. 'What will he say?' But she already knew the answer to that question. She loved him so much, and to burden him with this new, upcoming responsibility would be cruel—she knew it wasn't fair to ruin his life. She had to leave for awhile; she didn't want to hurt him anymore than he was already suffering.

Glancing over at her dresser, she grabbed a suitcase from under her bed. It was time to go.

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Just as she was finishing her packing, Vincent entered the room. Almost instantly, a frown had formed on his face as crimson eyes met stormy grayness.

"What are you doing?" he sternly asked, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyebrows knitted into one another from utter bewilderment.

Yuffie could feel her heart racing as her hands tremblingly combed back her hair. "Vincent… I-" she paused a moment, inhaling a ragged breath as not to burst into tears, "I-I'm pregnant…" She swallowed the dry pain in her throat, her palms perspired with anxiety.

Vincent's felt as though he had been stabbed through the chest as the fearful word passed through her lips. He just stared at her through cold eyes, an angry mask replacing the sincere one he had adorned prior to this moment. For several minutes (which seemed like eternity), Vincent said nothing. He didn't know what to say. She couldn't expect him to be exactly 'happy' about the sudden news; he didn't necessarily want a baby in the first place.

Shaking her head, and finally allowing few tears to spill over her flushed face, Yuffie pleaded at a whisper, "Please say something..."

"I can't," he retorted monotonously. The ruthless Vincent Valentine had taken control of the once-sincere companion she had fallen in love with. His muscles were extremely tense and his jaw clenched tightly.

Noticing the painful expression on his face, Yuffie advanced towards him, but he quickly stepped out of her reach. She let out an agonized cry as she tried to touch him once more, but again he stepped away. He had cast his gaze down at the floor, careful as to not allow himself to surrender to her.

"Vincent!" she choked as she fell to her knees before him. "I… I l-lo…" she swallowed that thought and began anew. "P-Please… do-on't g-go!"

He could not consider her anguish for his own was quickly consuming him. Thus, with a vision clouded by tears, Vincent opened the wooden slab and slammed it behind him, fleeing the suffocation before he crumbled. He knew her muffled sobs would always haunt him if he walked away now.

But he had no choice.

The bedroom stilled as Yuffie continued to stare in disbelief at the door. She might have expected this from him for he was not one to be confined by another; he was a drifter. She remembered a time when she believed his cold exterior to be a façade, but it is never until a serious incident that one's truly colors are vibrantly exploited.

Too weak to stand, she bent forward and did not even try to suppress another eruption of mourning.