Disclaimer: Owning FFVII would be wonderful, but this poor high school student, unfortunately, does not possess such a privilege.

AN: Yay! I took a few days off to recuperate and recharge my brain, which had been producing nothing but scrap metal for the past two days. So, I decided to spend some time actually doing my homework in time and sleeping a full eight hours. Now (after I fried my brain again in the math contest today), I'm going to write another one! And this takes place sometime after the game, but before Advent Children.

.:Vicissitudes:.

The clamor of the crowd beat upon Vincent's fraying patience as he followed Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and Marlene down the aisle to their hard, backless seats in the Event Square at the Golden Saucer. The open-air amphitheater, constructed out of grey granite polished to an eggshell smoothness, was almost completely packed with lovers and loners, parents and children, and youths and seniors. It was, after all, a rare Valentine's Day when the night air was brisk but not biting, and when the moon was full and unobstructed by clouds.

And when Cloud had suggested a group outing earlier in the day, Yuffie had been the one to brightly chirp out "Golden Saucer's the BEST! Come on, Cloud, we just have to see their new play!"

And thus, Vincent now found himself being herded down the congested aisle in one of his least favorite places on the Planet. People buzzed happily as they walked to and fro beside him. Children scurried down below the canopy of adult arms and bodies, weaving through the forest of legs, some even fearlessly ducking under Red XIII to the large feline's surprise.

He glanced behind him and wished again for the security of his Death Penalty. Obviously, bringing the gun to a social event was about as wise as pulling Red XIII's tail, but he had always felt uncomfortably vulnerable without a weapon.

His glinting eyes swept behind him again when he missed the sight of Yuffie's small head of fluffy brown hair, and alarm shot through him—she had been walking behind him just moments ago. Coming to a full stop, he abruptly turned and ignored the slightly apprehensive looks with which the approaching people regarded him.

"What's wrong?" came the gravelly voice of Red XIII.

"Yuffie is missing," he replied shortly.

"She's fine. She's probably stealing some poor man's wallet right now," he rumbled. But Vincent was not reassured before he scanned the amphitheatre quickly and found her purchasing food from a vendor near the back of the room. She was gesticulating forcefully and somehow cowing the six and a half foot man into submission. Vincent suppressed a wry grin; Yuffie had always been an excellent bargainer.

Turning around, he noticed that Barret was already seated with Marlene firmly seated upon his broad shoulders. Denzel sat beside the large man, attempting to stop Marlene from wriggling her bare toes in his hair. Cloud and Tifa sat nearby, the normally tense swordsman relaxed and frolicsome for once. They laughed as Red XIII effectively pushed a rather obnoxious looking business man away with his flaming tail and lounged on the wooden bench.

The feline's bulk left only a bit of space for Vincent and Yuffie, who had not returned yet. Sighing, the former Turk sat down with a swish of his cloak and observed the happy masses of people about him. The glowing lights of the square washed the dull granite floor with textured gold, and more beams flickered patterns across the sea of anticipatory faces. The sun had set to leave just a tinge of purple on the horizon, and the show was about to start.

Suddenly, there was a rustle of cloth beside him and a polite, feminine voice spoke. "Is this spot free?"

It was a heavily pregnant woman dressed in a white dress with a black coat. A boy, no more than three years old, clung to her side and stared at him with timid eyes. "It's just that it's so crowded—"

Vincent flicked his eyes to hers, and she paled slightly as the words caught in her throat. Unconsciously, she tightened her hold on her son, who had felt the same exact flash of fear that had rippled through his mother when she saw Vincent's eyes. Her own large, doe eyes traveled over his cloaked form with apprehension growing in their depths. "Maybe you're saving that seat for someone…" she said with a quaver in her voice.

But he could already see that there were no other empty seats. Even the aisles were filled with children and adults opting to array themselves in a pile of warm bodies in lieu of sitting on the tightly packed benches. She would have to either take the seat he had been reserving for Yuffie or stand, and he did not want to force such discomfort upon her in her pregnant state.

"Take it. There are none left," he said quietly, turning his disquieting eyes away. She paused, then gingerly took the seat and sat her son on the edge, as far from Vincent as possible. As she moved, her eyes caught sight of something and her hand became almost painfully rigid on her son's shoulder.

Vincent knew what it was: his inhuman monstrosity of an arm. He tucked it out of sight among the folds of his cloak, and felt a tinge of bitterness. How long had it been since a civilian had looked at him without horror? It seemed just like yesterday when women of all classes from the least virtuous bar girls to the most sophisticated—like Lucrecia, his mind reminded him unpleasantly—flocked about him like so many moths about a flame. But of course, like the spots of night-colors that the insects were, these women's attraction had only led to pain and death.

The others were lucky; perhaps their hearts had been broken momentarily, or perhaps their transient flight through life was stalled a bit by the turbulence of ill-fated infatuation. But Lucrecia—the only woman to have regarded him with neither fear nor intimidation, the only to have rejected him—he had broken her delicate wings, burnt her to pale ashes of what she once was.

And now, the sin must have shown in every facet of his cursed eyes. Mothers cowered and protected their children from this atrocity of nature that he was. Grown men quaked inside and set their jaw as they shielded their families from the shadow of his existence. And worst of all, he feared inside that perhaps they, his friends, would someday turn around and look at him with the same eyes. The same eyes of fear, disgust, and hatred.

His right arm, encased in the tight golden alloy that was crafted cleverly into a jagged claw, twitched as the old pain returned. It was not so bad now, just a slight cramp in the mangled muscle or a bit of fire in the modified joint. Vincent clenched the claw into a fist, gritting his teeth at the sudden scream of protest in his tendons.

And that was when something pounced on him, wrapping a pair of lithe arms in a choking hold around his neck. He had been totally unprepared for the impact, and the momentum jerked him forward, nearly causing his head to hit a man's back. A warm cheek was pressed lightly to his neck, a breath tickling his ear, and a high-pitched voice deafened him. "VINNNIIEEEE!" screamed Yuffie.

Even his Turk training could not prevent him from wincing as his ear was assaulted at point-blank range with the sheer power of the young ninja's voice. She now had somehow maneuvered herself to straddle Red XIII's rump, ignoring the flaming tail that was waving threateningly in her face. Thrusting a bag of popcorn at him, she began loudly recounting the epic of how she had acquired the treat.

"You know what? The idiot tried to trick me into paying three GP for the stupid popcorn, which I swear I could have like gotten for four gil, and so I told him that if he did business like that, I would hit him with my shoe! Then he got scared of me, the Great Ninja Yuffie, and he finally gave it to me for ten gil, but only after I really threw my shoe at him!"

Pausing to take a breath and catch Red's tail as she struggled to maintain balance on his wriggling body, she reached out fearlessly and used his arm to steady herself. "Man, it's crowded! Didn't you save a seat for me, you meanies?"

The others automatically directed their attentions to Vincent, who shrugged and shifted to allow them to see the pregnant woman. Yuffie understood instantly.

"Aw…now where do I sit? Can I sit on you, Red?"

The large red lion snorted indignantly. "You most certainly may not, Miss Yuffie Kisaragi. I am a sentient being, not the latest trend in red, furry furniture."

"Well, I have to say, you make quite a nice beanbag, Red," drawled Yuffie, and she received a vigorous shake for the comment. The furious movement finally unseated her as she slid over Red's glossy fur, face-planting painfully into the concrete. Tears leaked involuntarily out the corners of her eyes as her nose informed her of exactly how damaged it was. She reached an arm down to push herself up. "Ow! (& it, Red, you didn't have to do that!"

"I'm sorry, Yuffie," said the immediately apologetic Red, dismayed that he had caused her such pain.

Pouting, she glared back at Red from the floor and suddenly clambered onto Vincent's lap, accidentally kicking the cat on the way. He had no time to protest as she moved gracelessly but quickly, swinging her legs over his to dangle about six inches from the ground. Sighing contentedly, she leaned back into his chest, wriggling to adjust her position.

He was frozen at the sudden contact; this was not even just an accidental brush against his shoulder in a crowded hallway, or even the urgent steadying hand of an ally in battle. Her body was so small and light against him—he understood for the first time the frailty that lay within her delicate bones. It would be so easy for a wayward blow, a momentary loss of control,or perhaps a fit of rage when Chaos surged through him, to permanently dim the light that burned within the girl.

"Hey, Vinnie." He could feel the vibrations against his chest when she spoke.

"…"

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice was unusually pensive. "You looked so serious when I jumped on you from the aisle."

"…It was nothing."

"You know, if you're worried, I didn't hit anybody with my feet when I jumped. Well, I think I did give you a nasty bruise when I landed, but you're okay, right?" With that, she punctuated by solidly elbowing him, as it to prove her point that he was indeed fine and perfectly able to withstand her attack.

"Yuffie. That hurt."

"Oh. Sorry!" she cried and twisted to face him, concern on her youthful features as she rubbed his ribs vigorously. "Is that better?"

He nodded, a bit of surprise rising in his eyes. She was so naive, so fearless of the killer whose lap she sat on. Long ago, he had become accustomed to how people shrank from him, how even the most innocent child instinctively knew that he was something unwholesome. He had dismissed them as mere hindrances to his objective anyway, just obstacles in his path to kill Hojo. But it was not until now that he realized how much he missed simple human contact that was unmarred by the coppery scent of blood.

"Hey Vinnie." Her voice brought him out of his thoughts as he noted that the show was about to start.

"Yes?"

"You're really warm, y'know that? Just like a couch with a heater or something. My back isn't cold at all."

"I'm glad," he replied dryly.

"But my arms are cold," she continued, shivering slightly. "Hey, Vinnie, you don't mind, do you?" Grabbing his cloak, she proceeded to tuck it tightly around the both of them, so that only her head was exposed to the chilly night wind. "Thanks for lending me your cloak!"

"You're welcome," he replied, slightly distracted when Tifa suddenly turned back and started giggling madly. Then it became even worse when she smacked Cloud's arm with a fist and forcefully turned his head back to look at them. An expression of shocked amusement spread across his face and Tifa started reaching into his pocket for a camera phone.

But before she could acquire her new material for humiliating her team members, Yuffie shifted down with a suddenjerk and removed her sneaker. With a swift movement, she tossed the dirt-caked shoe in their direction, her accuracy remarkable as it successfully flattened half of Cloud's spikes of hair.

"Take that, you evil people!" she yelled, leaning so far forward that she would have slipped off had Vincent not wrapped an arm loosely around her waist. Though Tifa stuck her tongue out in return to Yuffie's threat, Cloud was too mortified to respond as he felt his leveled hairstyle.

But the lights were dimming and the stage began to glow brightly; the crowd's shouts softened to a murmur of anticipation. Yuffie settled back against him, and he removed his arm now that she was no longer in danger of falling into the row in front of them. She merely slouched, allowing him to support all of her weight.

"Hey Vinnie."

"What?"

"You're really bony, you know that? You need to eat more."

"If I'm so uncomfortable a piece of furniture, then why did you choose to sit on me?"

Her answer was forthright. "Because Red's too mean, Barret's got two kids climbing all over him already, and Cloud's probably going to spend the whole time doing mushy things with Tifa. And I can't possibly sit on a girl's lap, so Tifa's out." She paused to pout thoughtfully. "And her boobs would probably end up smacking my back all the time."

"…"

"Nah. I think sitting on you was my best option," she concluded, grinning up into his face. "Besides, I like sitting on you."

His reply was sarcastic. "Because I'm similar to a heated couch?"

"No," she said firmly. "Because I trust you."

He froze, stunned. The simple statement was one that he had heard many times before, but it had never been uttered in such a way to him. Undoubtedly, his colleagues had believed in his unwavering ability to kill, and even Lucrecia had once jokingly stated that she trusted Vincent to speak in ellipses. But never had a person declared it this way—the way that spoke of a bond deeper than mere acquaintance, of a willingness to place his or her life into his hands without a thought.

Yuffie continued, oblivious to his state of mind. "And I trust you because I know you'll never hurt me or let me be hurt. Because I know you care about me, about all of us."

His throat was dry, but for once, something was flowing in his heart that was somehow warmer than his blood had ever been. "Yuffie—"

"Shhh—the show's starting," she said, a smile in her voice. The fanfare played, and a crescendo of applause rose from the audience, the sound loud enough to drown out anything he could have said.

But she understood anyway, and reached down to give his hand a light squeeze. "Vinnie, you'd better promise not to mope anymore, because then I'd have to drag you around all the time like a security blanket just to make sure you aren't being depressed."

He laughed, and felt freer than he had in ages. "I promise."

AN: Thanks for reviewing, everybody! I love you guys! Wow…this chapter has been insanely long. Now I go off to die in my piano competition…