Disclaimer: The usual...they ain't mine...

A/N: Sorry for the delayed update. Mass Effect 2 ate up some serious brain cells the last couple of weeks, so it took awhile to get back into the FFVII frame of mind. As always, welcome back and enjoy!

Cold wind bit at Terra's face and hands as the two of them plummeted rapidly down the side of the canyon. Terra desperately wanted to scream; her mouth was even open to allow such a sound to escape, only she couldn't force out any noise. Her voice seemed to be lost somewhere around her toes, and just when she began to think that at any moment they were going to splatter against the rock below, Terra's stomach bottomed out. Were they…floating?

Though Vincent would likely call it drifting. Floating is too feminine a word, Terra thought facetiously. She forced herself to crack an eyelid open, and what she saw confirmed it. They were drifting over the broad expanse of the rusty canyon below them until the deep orange rock bled into lush green grassland and jagged mountains off to the north. Slowly they began to lose altitude, Vincent's cape flapping noisily in the wind as they descended, touching down a click or more shy of a narrow river.

Once Terra's feet touched the ground, she immediately planted herself down in the grass. Her legs still felt like jelly after the surprise vault from the observatory's peak, and she gaped at Vincent stupidly.

"How…?"

"It's not simply for aesthetics," he said so calmly that Terra thought he was being deliberately obtuse. There was no way that a cape could keep two people adrift for that long. At least…not without some seriously complicated modifications.

Terra didn't press the issue, however. She was still trying to locate the rest of her voice, but what little she had found evaporated when Vincent looped an arm around her and hauled her to her feet. They collided abruptly, and for the first time Terra was awarded with a clear view of his face. Flawless. Every facet, every nook and every cranny and severe angle came together in a seamless, porcelain visage that was devoid of a single wrinkle, and Terra had the crazy urge to ask him who his beautician was.

"I…" he began, faltered, then cleared his throat, and when his eyes finally met hers, Terra grew breathless at the rolling fire behind them. "I was wrong to accuse you," he finally finished, and his arm fell away from her waist.

Well, it wasn't exactly an apology, but Terra was willing to let it slide if it meant that future indiscretions brought them that close again.

"Uh…so what do we do now?" she stammered, palming her hip where the warmth of Vincent's hand still lingered. She didn't want it to fade. Glancing around, she then motioned to a village across the river that was nestled into the jagged mountains. "Maybe they have an inn that we could stay at."

"My cloak can help me glide, not fly," Vincent said as he began to adjust his various accoutrements. The gauntlet on his left hand chinked loudly in the silence that followed, and he glanced up at her when she continued to remain speechless. "In other words, using my cloak is out of the question if you want to make it there by nightfall which is…" –he looked up at the sky to judge the angle of the sun. "In less than an hour, give or take."

Terra continued to gape at him. He was serious? Walk three or four miles in these shoes? No. No, walking was absolutely out of the question, too, and yet Terra found herself trotting to catch up to his lengthy strides once he began walking in the direction of the river. Their little arrangement certainly wasn't a democracy, though it would've been nice if he had just asked if she wanted to make camp for the evening instead of walk, and while the day before she might have argued with him, it just wasn't in her to say anything. He had fulfilled his end of the bargain and then some; the least she could do was quit picking fights with him.

They trekked for over an hour until the sun began to disappear behind the mountains. Unable to walk anymore, Terra plopped down on the grass and toed off her shoes in order to rub at her throbbing feet. "Uncle," she moaned, causing Vincent to stop and turn. "Please. No more. I can't walk anymore. Can we just make camp here?"

Vincent once again looked at the sky then in the direction of Nibelheim. It was at least a few more hours before they reached even the outskirts, and so carrying her was out of the question. Not that that idea was particularly pleasing anyway, and so without a word, he began to gather a few rocks and long blades of grass to make a campfire, and by the time the stars began to twinkle brightly above them, bright orange flames crackled between the two of them.

"Those men," Vincent said after a long lapse in the conversation, and Terra blinked at him sleepily from her spot on the soft earth next to him. He looked so surreal in the orange low dancing over his face, and for a long moment she thought he was a dream. "You weren't exaggerating when you said mercenaries. Many of them carried rifles and multiple sidearms as if you were a dangerous criminal."

"Maybe they know about you already," Terra said with a sleepy grin as she stretched her legs out in front of her. She flexed her toes back and forth as she giggled softly, the image of Vincent fighting off a pack of fiends playing exotically in her mind. She didn't know much about him, the way he fought or the make-up of his past, but she didn't necessarily need to. Anyone who helped to defeat Sephiroth wasn't anyone to be trifled with, and she was pretty sure plenty of men weren't eager to witness his fighting style firsthand, let alone be on the receiving end of it.

Vincent didn't answer, only continued to stoke the fire as he mulled over her words. If they knew he was her keeper (no, guardian. He liked guardian much better), then they were likely close to finding out where the island was. Even if they weren't close yet, it was only a matter of time, and Vincent had to prepare himself for the probability of casualties.

By why? Was Terra really worth killing in order to protect? And just as the question ran across his mind, Terra leaned against him and curled herself about his upper right arm.

"Thank you," she said with a yawn, shutting her eyes as she turned her face into his cloak, and Vincent looked down at her. Without really knowing why, he reached over and touched his fingers to her emerald hair, lingering there much longer than he had originally intended to.

"You're welcome," he said quietly.