(A/N: Thanks to everybody who sent in a review. I really appreciate it. Please continue to do so as the story progresses. Kudos.)
"Two months, eh?" Cid whistled through his teeth. "Seems like an awful long time to be searchin' for a bugger like Cloud. Usually you can find 'im just by followin' his fanclub."
"Cloud's popularity aside, the fact remains that we still have no idea where he is," Vincent growled. He stared languidly into the glass of amber liquid, wondering if Cid had any idea that he had never touched alcohol in his life. He glanced up, red eyes flicking across the pilot's weathered face. "Which brings me to the reason for our visit."
Cid raised an eyebrow. "Yer not flyin' my airship," he declared, waving a warning finger in the gunman's direction.
Vincent's brow furrowed dangerously. "I don't think you understand quite how serious this situation is," he said icily.
"I understand perfectly, dipshit!" Cid exclaimed, pounding Vincent good naturedly on the shoulder. "That's why I'm gonna fly it for you!" He whipped around. "Shera! I'm gonna be takin' these two kids on a mission t'morrah! Willya watch after the house for me?"
"Will do," came the response from the kitchen. "Don't let them get into any trouble, dear."
Cid grinned and thumbed his nose. "Shucks, Shera, as if I'd let these li'l brats get into any trouble." He winked at Yuffie who stifled a laugh. "Not without my comin' withya, at least," he whispered genially.
Vincent rubbed his shoulder. "Sometimes I think you forget that I'm at least ten years older than you," he muttered, shooting Cid an irritated glance.
"Maybe so, but there's a difference between havin' a heartbeat and livin'," Cid retorted. Swinging his legs off the table, he scooted his chair back and stood up. "An' y'know what? Livin' ain't so bad. You should try it sometime." Flashing a meaningful look into the gunner's crimson eyes, the pilot turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen.
Yuffie watched him go, then turned to Vincent. "What was that about?" she asked.
Vincent shrugged enigmatically and pushed himself out of his chair. "I'm going to bed, he said curtly, flicking his cloak over his shoulder as he turned to go.
The ninja girl raised an eyebrow at the clock. "What? Why? It's only eight thirty! We could have so much fun!" she protested incredulously.
"I'm tired." Without waiting for a response, the gunner ascended the stairs and disappeared into one of the rooms on the second floor.
"Ugh!" Yuffie slammed her hands down on the table. "That man! Doesn't he ever want to just have a night on the town?"
If Tifa had asked, he would have stayed out all night, she thought bitterly. She pulled out a handful of throwing stars and a whetstone, mumbling something that sounded a great deal like 'eight thirty my ass' as she prepared for another boring night alone.
It was two o'clock in the morning before Yuffie finally decided to head upstairs to bed. She had sharpened every one of her throwing stars (all three hundred and ninety seven of them) and would have moved on to her hidden knives had her whetstone not ceased to exist. And so, with her blurry eyes still seeking out imperfections on invisible blades, she tottered up the stairs and made for the spare room at the end of the hall.
Opening the door quietly, she slipped inside and let the latch fall closed behind her. She proceeded to pick her way carefully across the hardwood floor, groping blindly for the bed Shera had made up for her and hoping to God that she didn't step on Vincent - who had most likely fallen asleep on the rug. THAT wouldn't be pleasant, she thought sleepily. I'd be lucky if I only ended up dead.
Finally locating the small blanket smothered mattress against the back wall, she lowered herself onto it and pulled her knees up under her chin. On a whim, she held her breath and listened very closely, straining in the silence of the darkened room. At last the soft sound reached her ears – the steady breath leaving the gunman's parted lips. She blew out a small sigh and buried her nose between her knees. It always felt good to know he was near – even if it was only in body.
I wish I could know you, she told him mentally. I wish I could be with you…
…always…
A few minutes ticked by in silence. Then, without really knowing why, Yuffie swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped onto the floor. She began to make her way across the room on all fours, afraid that if she stood straight she would trip over the sleeping beauty and her plan would be ruined. At last her fingertips ghosted across a wave of soft tresses cascading from a rough bandana, pillowed by nothing but the thin carpet and broken dreams.
Found you, she thought happily, tracing her fingers through the velvety locks. Her heart skipped a beat as they alighted on his silky skin; she gently cupped his cheek with a loving hand.
Vincent stirred slightly. "Mmm…" For a split second, two pinpoints of crimson light appeared in the darkness, then flickered out again as the gunman settled back into sleep. Yuffie let out the breath she didn't remember drawing, wondering idly at the burning sensation the soft murmur had wrung from somewhere near the pits of her stomach. Allowing her fingertips to linger on his cheek for a few moments more, she then traced her hand down his arm until she found his claw. It's probably better you can't feel this, she told him silently as she gently laced her fingers into the cold metal. She softly lowered herself until she was laying beside him and rolled against his side, burying her face in the front part of his cloak. The material was rough and the underlying leather was frigidly cold, but the idea of being so close to him sent a fire raging through her body that chased the chill away.
"Tifa be damned," she whispered, the late hours of the night getting the best of her cheerful personality as she spoke her heart at last. "You sure as hell mean the world to me."
Hours later, Vincent was awakened to the realization that he was cradling someone in his arms. Sleepy crimson eyes flickered open, casting their scarlet glow into the predawn shadows. Yuffie's peaceful features swam into view, and for a muddled moment he envied her the still serenity the innocent call sleep. For him, the world of dreams was nothing but nightmares.
He was preparing to gently remove her from his embrace when she reached up around his back and tangled her fingers in his hair. The gunman started, red eyes darting across her sleeping face.
"Vincent, don't go…" she mumbled, nestling her head underneath his chin. "It's…too early to be moving…" A deep sigh flowed across his neck, tickling his skin with her sweet breath.
"Yuffie…" Her tender plea reminded him of something someone had said to him long ago… An image of Lucrecia hunched over her computer swam before his eyes, veiled by fluorescent blue liquid and reinforced glass, the image of defeat and despair…
Vincent, please don't go…don't leave me here alone…
The hazy memory forced him to let her lie. Rolling onto his back, he tossed one arm across his forehead and stared blankly into the shadows, leaving the other arm around the sleeping girl as he let his mind wander across the possibilities the future might hold.
Suppose we don't find Cloud, he mused. What then? Would she be able to move on?
The first rays of dawn were beginning to peak through the shuttered windows. They would be leaving in just a few short hours. To where? Vincent wondered, realizing at last that he had no idea where to begin. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks; so what if Cid had agreed to lend them the airship? Without a destination, whether they walked, flew, or sat on their asses was of no importance.
"Damn!" he breathed into the darkness. The supple fingers of his good hand tightened unconsciously on Yuffie's waist as Reeve's parting words echoed through his mind: if Cloud doesn't want to be found, you're not going to find him. They could search the planet three times over, but if the elusive swordsman wanted to remain undiscovered…
"Vincent, what is it?"
The gunman blinked, shaken from his dark thoughts by the soft query issuing from somewhere near his collarbone. He glanced down, meeting her questioning eyes with his own troubled gaze. The silence dragged out as he considered his words, and she studied his handsome features with worried eyes.
"We will not find him," Vincent said at last. He glared into the darkness over her shoulder. "Reeve was right. If Cloud doesn't want to be found, we're not going to find him. It's as simple as that. God, why didn't I realize this sooner?"
Because you wanted to help Tifa
You wanted to see her smile…if only for a little longer.
Yuffie bit her lip. "Vincent…"
"He means everything to her," he grated, eyes fixed on nothing as he tangled his claw in his hair. "It's been two months since we've started this ridiculous search, and we've found nothing. Not a trace. Yet still we kept at it, hoping that if we were diligent enough, we would…" He searched for the words. "…find what isn't there."
Yuffie was quiet for a moment. Then, "Maybe he wants you to find him, but it's just that he can't be found," she said slowly.
Vincent tore his gaze from the shadows and shot her a questioning look. "What do you mean?"
"What if something happened?" she asked, getting excited now. "What if there's something going on that we should have seen, but were too wrapped up in our own lives to notice?"
"You didn't see the message he sent me," Vincent muttered.
The ninja girl blinked. "What message?"
"I received a message from Cloud just the other day. It said, 'Hey. I know you're looking for me. Leave me alone'." The gunman glared into the palm of his claw. "I don't know about you, but that made me think that he's fine…but just doesn't care enough to come home."
"Or maybe he's in trouble and someone is forcing him to keep quiet. Have you ever considered that?" Yuffie demanded.
Vincent snorted. "No one can subdue Cloud."
"No one but Sephiroth!" Yuffie almost shouted. She rolled on top of him and pushed herself up into pushup position, glaring down her slender nose at the startled gunman as she jammed her finger into his face. "I can't believe you would just disregard a message like that!" she growled. "You know Cloud better than that! Or at least I hope you do. I mean, the guy may be detached, but he cares enough about Tifa – and all of us, for that matter – to at least give a reason if he's going to be gone. Geez, I thought you guys would've known that if Cloud was missing for this long, he was in trouble!"
The gunman narrowed his eyes until they were tiny pinpoints of light peeking out from beneath his swath of sable hair. "You didn't mention this before."
"Well, it should be obvious," she sniffed. "From the way you were talking, it sounded like Tifa had given him up for dead. But she of all people should know that Cloud would never just leave her behind like that. That's not what love is."
"And how would you know about that?" Vincent snarled.
The girl stopped cold. "What do you think?" she grated. Then, in a much softer tone, she asked, "If you asked me to stay…I would never leave you, would I?"
Before he could answer, she leaned down and caught his lips against hers, kissing him feverishly in the growing light of the dawn. Vincent started to pull away, but she caught his hands and laced her fingers into them, pinning him to the ground by settling her weight on top of him in ways that would send any normal man into a frenzy. But Vincent simply watched – watched and waited until she had drunk her fill from his frozen lips.
After about a minute, she pulled back ever so slightly, releasing his hands so she could cup his face. "I wish you could learn to think beyond yourself," she murmured against his mouth, barely containing her desire to claim it once more. "Then I believe you'd be able to help Tifa. And do you know why?"
The gunman said nothing, but the question burned in his eyes.
"Because you'd truly want to make her happy," she answered herself. "You would actually want to find Cloud for her. You would have admitted to yourself that Cloud loves her more than anything and would never leave her unless something was wrong– and that you have to look beyond your selfish needs and do what needs to be done." With this, she kissed his lips one last time and rose to her feet, padding toward the door with a calm purposefulness in her step. She paused when she reached the threshold, flicking one last glance at the gunman who had not moved from his place on the rug. He calmly returned her gaze.
"So where do you propose we start?" he asked softly.
She smiled to herself, knowing that her words had sunk deeper than he would ever let on. "Well," she mused, "for starters, I think we need to stop thinking like Cloud…and start thinking like Sephiroth." Then she smiled and glided down the hall, leaving the gunman to brood in silence.
(A/N: Bleh, I hate Yuffentine…but oh well, not much we can do about it now…R&R)