Note: FFVII isn't mine.

Last chapter! Sorry it's so short. Sometimes things just turn out that way. Anyway, thanks for sticking with this venture into the world of FFVII fiction!

The next few days passed peaceably enough, in contrast with the first twenty-four hours of fear.

For his part, Vincent was in far better shape, but, for those next days, remained abed, plagued by sneezing. The condition left his normally pale nose the color of his cloak, a fact which Yuffie delighted in pointing out. To her observations, he simply turned his head away, sighing. He made no attempts to get up, much to her liking, save for necessary excursions to the restrooms. Even then, he allowed her to accompany him, saying nothing to dissuade her. Most of the time, he spent in a doze, not noticing—or, perhaps, not caring—when she curled up on his legs, nodding off as well.

She, on the other hand, was busily playing the dutiful nurse. Vincent may have been out of the woods, but was obviously still too weak to be about on his own. In addition to fixing up his shirt, she brought food, staved off the innkeeper, and, somehow, managed to keep up a steady stream of one-sided conversation.

Cloud headed back to work, and Edge, as soon as he was assured that Fenrir was again in working order, and that Vincent was in no further danger. His departure, however, was met with none of the appreciation of his arrival.

"Where'd the materia go?"

At the tone of her voice, Vincent looked up. He gave a small shrug. "Cloud left while you were gone," he informed her.

"He did what!"

Somewhere, along a lonely stretch of road, a motorcycle roared. Its rider's face twitched into a small, satisfied smirk at the clink of materia in the bike's side pouch.

"Bastard."

Vincent wisely did not comment.

And thus, the days passed. Yuffie enjoyed the quiet, the company. Whether or not Vincent shared her sentiments was another matter. She liked to think he did. The monotony was broken by a few calls here and there, most of them Tifa and Marlene, checking in on them. Or, in the child's case, giggling at the sound of Vincent's recovering voice.

"You sound like you're talking with your nose plugged!" she'd informed him.

He only rolled his eyes in answer, prompting his nurse to peals of laughter, as she agreed wholeheartedly with the little girl.

Part of Yuffie never wanted this idyllic time to end. It was so comfortable, simply sitting with him, explaining just why it was unwise to hang upside down from unfamiliar pipes. There was a safety in this room now. No one was out there, trying to destroy the planet. No bizarre, larva clones were appearing. No illness was threatening their very lives. For once in a very long time, she could pretend they were normal people, living out their days without harassment.

Even as she tried to ignore it, most of her knew nothing so serious could end so neatly. So when his eyes cleared, the sneezing abated, and his gaze began to wander away from her antics, towards the cloak still hanging on the door, her heart sank.

All her earlier worries returned. Even if he'd allowed her close now, there was no guarantee he'd do so again, for her or for anyone else. She could not rid her mind of the image of him, lying in the thrall of a seizure, helpless. If it happened once, it could happen again—was her line of reasoning. Who would be able to help him then?

"Vince…?" The question, the plea, trembled on the edge of her lips. Let me come too, she wanted to say. Let me come too, so I can help…

But, as the crimson eyes met hers, the words died.

Stupid of me. Why would he say "yes"?

"You should take a nap," she finished lamely, inwardly cursing herself.

It was funny how things always came full circle. This night was no different.

Around the same hour a ninja fell into his lap so many days ago, he sat up in bed, staring down at the same ninja, now curled in the same position, her head pillowed unknowingly against his hip. Just as she had so unceremoniously dropped back into his life, he fully intended to abruptly drop from hers. It was better that way. His problematic nose aside—still comically clogged, even after all his rest—everything worked well enough for him to leave.

The problem now lay in how to disentangle her from his legs. Why she'd taken to sleeping there, he had little idea. It made his plan all the more difficult.

Carefully, he eased his legs out from under her, swinging them over the edge of the bed. His feet made no sound as he stood. Behind him, Yuffie sighed, rolling over in her sleep. He relaxed a fraction. Maybe he'd overestimated her.

His things were just as she'd left them for him, the shirt folded on the dresser, next to the gun, the cloak hanging on the door over the boots. Silently, he pulled the clothes back on, sliding the gun back into the holster. The barest hint of a smirk flickered across pale lips at the familiar weight. All was going well, he felt.

"'cent…"

He froze. He neither moved, nor breathed, until she rolled over with a sigh, arms stretched out above her head, as if searching for him. Breathing a sigh of his own, he gripped the doorknob, then paused. Again, he looked down at the girl. A pang of guilt struck. Memories of her, bent over him, worry creasing her brow, flashed through his mind. Harsher, fresher, than the rest, loomed the image of tears filling her dark eyes, threatening to spill over.

As much as he disliked admitting it, she was owed far more than a quiet disappearance. Unfortunately, she was also owed more than he could give her.

In a smooth, practiced motion, he pried the materia free of his gun. Carefully, gently, the orb was pressed into her open palm, his fingers closing hers about it. Truth be told, it was an awkward gesture, one sure to bring about her wrath once she woke up. Money would have been seen as an insult, and he needed his cloak. It was all he could give her, really, in thanks.

Duty done, he turned back to the door, only to feel a tug. His cloak must have caught on the bedpost. Another tug actually jerked him back a pace. He frowned.

"So that's it? You're taking off? Just like that?"

When he looked back, Yuffie had released him, and was sitting up, looking at nothing but the gleaming orb in her hands. She turned it over restlessly.

"I have somewhere I need to be," he told her.

"You could have waited until morning," she retorted, glaring up at him.

He stared back, calmly. "You needed sleep more than a goodbye."

Her hands tightened around the materia. Neither spoke for a beat. Emotions warred in her eyes throughout the quiet, as she fought down the harsher words in favor of others. He approved. "I know what you'd say if I asked to come too," she said. "So… I won't."

Sensing a conversation, he settled against the dresser, folding his arms. If she wished to speak, who was he to stop her? "Why would you ask that?" he said finally.

Another glare. "You know why."

"There's no reason for you to worry," he told her. A shrug. "You said yourself, I'm fine now."

"I'm not talking about now!" One of her fists slammed into the mattress, hiding the trembling. She was fighting the tears. "I'm talking about… who knows when! When something like this happens to you, again…"

"What if it doesn't?" he countered. His tone was still calm, without any sense of argument.

"I know it will…!" It was irrational, stupid, but she felt the resolve breaking. "I saw you… I thought you were…" She stopped the train of thought abruptly. "How am I supposed to know it'll be okay? How'm I supposed to know you'll be okay? And not… not…" She broke off, the image of his seizure returning to fill her mind. Suddenly, she couldn't look at him. If she looked… Instead, she focused on the sheets, on the warm orb crushed in her hand. Anything but him.

Just as suddenly, he was all she could see. He knelt in front of her, at her level, crimson gaze barely a shade below "worried". It was more expression than she'd seen in them before.

"Shall I make you a deal then?" Vincent asked. "Since it means so much to you."

Despite the words, his voice was the same, cool and nonchalant. Somehow, it reassured her, giving her more hope than what he spoke. She could only nod, biting her lip.

"If something does happen," he began, choosing words carefully. "you have my permission to come for me." A small crease of thought etched itself in his dark brow. "Does that work?"

"So… I'm only allowed to follow you if there's a good chance you're gonna get your ass handed to you? Or do you mean… you want me to show up when you're pretty much screwed?"

He blinked. "Something like that."

Quite unexpectedly, Yuffie reached out, grabbing his hand and squeezing. Out of reflex, he nearly pulled back, effectively yanking her off the bed. At the last moment, he relented. He did owe her quite a lot, after all. If in one small agreement he could repay the debt, so be it. Even if the terms of the agreement never came to pass. He doubted such a situation would ever arise. But… if she felt it necessary…

"I promise."

Jerked from his thoughts by the sudden solemnity of her voice, Vincent raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"I promise," she said again, a small, triumphant smile on her face. "that I'll always save your undead butt. I won't let you down, Vinnie."

He nodded and she released his hand. Again, he headed for the door. This time, she made no move to stop him, no move to ask How will I find you? She would find a way, they both knew that. Before he set foot outside, however, she spoke up one last time.

"Doesn't mean you get your materia back though." The thieving flippancy returned to her voice. "What is it, Fire?"

When he failed to answer, Yuffie looked up. The doorway was empty, dark hallway echoing with only the faint thump of metal-shod footsteps and one, gruff, soothing word:

"Cover."

In the darkness, the ninja could only laugh.

Note: Personally, I enjoy that ending.

Also, thanks to the response to this fic, I've decided to write another. Be on the lookout! Tentatively titled as Arrhythmia. Yes, there will be angst and fluff and violence galore! Look for it this week, if time permits... Huzzah! Until next time!