A/N: Apologies for the rather slow update. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble. Writer's block blows. It also didn't help that I ended up writing this chapter twice – finished nearly all of it, was rereading it, and decided to scrap the whole thing and start again. Also, I know I said before that this was going to be a three-chapter fic; not anymore! There's definitely going to be one more chapter after this (and you shall see why), and possibly even a fifth.
I'd also just like to thank everyone for their reviews – they feed my soul, and the army of hungry plot-bunnies living under my bed. Now enough of my blathering, it's time for more Yuffie.
She woke up, and he was gone.
She followed him two days later.
I need to find you I need to tell you-
She checked his apartment in Kalm first. The sparse furnishings looked oddly lonely without their brooding master. She empathized; she missed him too. Missed him desperately.
Standing there in his dark, cold, and most importantly Vincent-less apartment, she found herself suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, vague whispers that she'd steadfastly been ignoring suddenly yelling and clamouring for attention.
I need to find him-
The soldier, helmet still in place, above her, panting-
Waking up slowly, to see Tifa above her, with a look full of so much pity-
I need to tell you, Vincent-
She was not broken. She did not need their pity; she did not want their pity. She was not some fragile glass ornament to be smothered in bubblewrap and placed on a mantle with a 'Do Not Touch' sign, god damn it –
Vincent...
She checked the mansion high and low, ignoring the slowly decaying bodies of the DeepGround soldiers that still littered it.
She skirted around the small bloodstain that lurked, inconspicuous among the rest of the filth that littered the front entryway, where she had seen him, with her hand in his chest and he collapsed and I thought you were dead ohmygawd Vincent –
She eventually found herself standing before the charred fragments of wood that marked the place where he had spent so many years. It gave her a sense of satisfaction, looking down on it, but he was not there and the satisfaction quickly disappeared.
She didn't like it here. The heavy scent of dust and moist decay couldn't cover up the faint whiffs of old, dried blood. This place was full of too many memories, of him (and her, for him) and what had been done to him (and her and why do you hate yourself she knew what she was doing, knew the risks) and the place felt full of stifling ghosts, echoes of so many horrors she would never know the true extent of.
She left, passing around the vast crater left by
Rosso, grinning as she snapped another finger-
Cid, Cid, for Christ's sake, with tears in his eyes as he asked how she was doing -
She was looking up at the stars, telling some ridiculous story, and she beamed inside as she saw his lips quirk in an almost-sort of-kinda smile -
Her mother, lying so so still on the cobblestones, porcelain skin contrasted starkly by crimson -
Just dandy, she'd replied, and made light of everything that had happened to her, and she ignored the sorrow in his eyes and her own feeling of wrongness that still lingered because if she ignored it then it wasn't real –
Why weren't you there, Vinnie? Why weren't you there when I needed to see you more than anyone?
The vast cavern was empty of everything besides the mako crystals and her, as much a part of the cavern as the very rock that made it.
Where is he.
Where else could he be? This was his place, his ultimate broody hideout, here with her.
She looked up at the beautiful woman entombed in the crystal. She looked so serene, floating there, eyes closed, hands clasped.
She wanted to break it, to hit her, to shake her until she opened her eyes and saw what she had done to him.
It's not fair, with you so at peace when he tore himself up for decades over what had happened to you, he blamed himself for absolutely everything that happened then, and everything after-
Blames himself.
She paused, lingering on the thought, rolling it around in her mind.
She turned on her heel to leave, and out of the corner of her eye (it's just a trick of the light, don't be stupid) she thought she saw a tear glisten on that beautiful face.
For once, her thoughts were blessedly quiet.
It took her a fair amount of searching, but she eventually found him.
Her shoes were filthy with the dust of the mountain, and she had almost given up, thinking maybe she was wrong, until she rounded a corner, and there he was, sitting, one knee propped up, his red cloak barely stirring in the summer winds.
She approached him silently, stopping a few feet away. He made no indication of having noticed her presence, but he had always been like that.
She managed a small smile, her first genuine grin in over a week, and offered a weak greeting.
"Hiya, Vince."
He leapt up in alarm, whirling to face her, Cerberus brought to draw so fast it seemed to almost teleport from his hip to his hand. She blinked at him in surprise, while he stared back at her.
His face was unreadable as always – but not because it was expressionless, but because there were just too many different emotions to understand.
He backed away from her, slowly, but she would have none of that, it took me long enough to find you this time and I don't have the time or the strength to find you again.
"Stop."
He did, as if anything she spoke manifested itself as a law of physics that ruled the entire world.
Or his world, at least.
She pointed sternly at him, narrowing her eyes in a mock expression of severity, doing her best to not notice (but it was impossible not to) the emotions that he was trying to withhold, flickering ceaselessly in his garnet eyes even as he managed to master the rest of his face and set it firmly into its customary stoic mask (made of paper, now, no longer the rock it had always been).
"No leaving until I tell you."
The statement was an order, not up for rebuttal. She waited, trying to not show her anxiety (please don't leave me pleasepleaseplease I just need to tell you then you can run, if you want). He seemed to struggle with himself, looking away from her to stare at the ground. After a few moments, he sagged with resignation, and she did a quick mental victory dance.
"What do you wish to tell me, Yuffie?"
The question was quiet monotone, but his voice was even rougher than normal. She took a deep breath, opening her mouth to tell him, to finally tell him –
And the words died in her throat, all the determination that had driven her to find him suddenly ripped from her in a deluge of insecurities, old and new, memories of all the mistakes she'd ever made flickering through her mind one after another to make a movie of her failures.
She struggled with herself, tried desperately to find any of her old determination, that confidence that had always been there, even if she had made it look larger than it appeared. Floundering in the flood of images, she managed to latch on to one measly bit of strength, floating by like a small piece of driftwood, granting her temporary relief.
"Don'tlemmeleaveuntilItellyouokay," she blurted out in a rush, saying the words as quickly as possible, fearing she'd lose her will to speak at all if she waited even a heartbeat.
He looked up at her questioningly at the words. She gripped desperately to her mental raft, holding on long enough to repeat her request even though she wanted nothing more than to flee from him at that moment.
"Don't let me leave until I tell you. Please," she added, a touch of desperation in her voice at the look of hesitation on his face.
"...How will I know when you've told me what you wish to say?" he murmured, looking away from her again.
She gave a snort of twisted amusement, feeling slightly sick.
"You'll know."
He nodded once, a short, unwilling jerk of his head, but that was all she needed. She closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh of relief as the mental storm within her calmed.
"So," she said after a lengthy pause, trying to revert back to her normal chipper attitude. "I hear you and Chaos won't be having any more late night tea parties."
His jaw tightened at the mention of the demon, but he gave a grunt of affirmation.
She waited, slightly surprised at the lack of reaction. She knew (well, maybe not knew – Vincent had never been a particularly willing conversationalist on the topic – but she was quite confident in her assumption) that Chaos had been the worst of all his demons, tormenting him constantly. He should be overjoyed that the monster was gone from his mind.
"So why aren't you partying it up, Vinnie-boy? You should be getting smashed, or at the very least trying to!"
His lips tightened into a thin line, and though he said nothing the silence between them thickened with unspoken thoughts. She looked away from him, suddenly feeling unworthy of looking at him, and swallowed nervously.
Giving an exasperated sigh at her own inability to conquer the fear stopping her from telling him, she sank to the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them to her, looking out and feeling the familiar sense of pride she gained whenever she looked upon her hometown.
She glanced back at Vincent, who remained standing where he was. She studied his profile, the slightly slumped shoulders, the tight lines of his face. He looked so lost, so defeated, and her heart clenched. She wanted to fix him. Wanted to show him – not just show, but shove it up his left nostril – that it isn't your fault.
She looked away again, and gave a sour smile. First, however, she'd have to fix herself.
Part of her railed against the thought.
Not broken not broken not broken I am just fine thank you very much have a good day.
She bit her lip. Maybe she wasn't broken, but simply damaged.
Nononononono I'm NOT.
She gave a weak, abrupt laugh, laced with a bitterness that was rare to her. Without looking back at Vincent, she casually informed him of the one thing she was certain about.
"Might wanna take a seat, Vinnie. I think we're gonna be here a while."
He didn't sit.
She hadn't expected him to. As long as he stayed, she didn't care.
She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, swinging them back and forth, her sneakers hitting the face of the cliff with soft thuds. She looked up, grinning into the rain as it spattered against her face, ignoring the chill that was beginning to seep into her limbs. She stuck out her tongue to catch the drops, drinking in Leviathan's gift. She grinned wider at the sky, winking at the rain clouds as a message of thanks to her god.
She registered an approach – the slight pinging of water off metal, the squish of boots in wet grass – and flopped down onto her back, craning her neck so as to poke a tongue out at Vincent this time, instead of the rain.
"You should get back into the tent," he monotoned, stopping beside her.
She ignored his suggestion, patting the grass next to her instead with a beckoning squelch of mud and moss.
"Pull up a seat, Vinnie."
"Yuffie, you will become ill if you stay out here."
She pshawed, waving a hand dismissively at him. "Leviathan won't get me sick, I'm – " She caught herself before she blurted out that she was Leviathan's daughter, Princess of Wutai, having no wish to divulge that information to anyone.
"You're...?" Vincent prompted. She flashed him a grin to cover up the partial slip.
"I'm the coolest, bestest ninja ever born of Wutai, silly. Duh."
Vincent crouched beside her, giving her one of his 'looks'. She frowned at him. She didn't like the Looks – they had a habit of seeing things regular looks did not.
"What is your last name?"
Yuffie blinked at him. "'Scuse?"
"Your last name, Yuffie. What is it?"
She blinked at him momentarily, the question catching her offguard. He raised an eyebrow at her hesitation, and she shook herself out of her surprise.
"Korozami," she said, listing off a name at random.
Vincent stared at her. She met his gaze innocently, repressing the urge to fidget.
"...You're lying," he stated blandly after a few moments of staring contest.
"Am not," she pouted, frowning at him.
He gave her an unfathomable stare before rising to his feet.
"What, leaving so soon?" she taunted, glad he hadn't pressed the issue.
"...Do not be ashamed of your bloodline, Kisaragi Yuffie," he said quietly before turning and heading back for their camp within the shelter of trees.
She stared after him.
"How did you know who I was?" she asked, stirring herself from the memory. She looked over to find that Vincent was now sitting in the same position he had been when she had found him originally.
He looked at her questioningly.
"Back when we were hunting Sephiroth, you knew who I was even though I'd never told anyone."
He looked away from her again, staring out at the coniferous forest surrounding Wutai.
"You look very much like your mother," he said quietly.
Yuffie blinked at him.
"You knew my mother?" she asked eagerly. Godo very rarely spoke of her, and Yuffie only had fragmented memories of her from her childhood.
Her mother, lying so so still on the cobblestones, porcelain skin contrasted starkly by crimson –
Vincent shook his head slowly, and she gave a frown, feeling disappointed.
"I saw her on the day she was due to be married to your father. She was quite young at the time."
Yuffie rested her chin on her knees, staring pensively into the distance.
"Why were you at their wedding?" she asked, though she thought she already knew.
He was silent for a few moments. Then, "I was there as a Turk," he stated abruptly, voice expressionless. He didn't offer any details of his mission, and Yuffie didn't need him to. She knew that his reasons for being there had not been for the good of Wutai.
Nor did she blame him for doing his job.
"I was never ashamed, ya know," she said quietly. "I just didn't want to be treated differently."
Vincent gave a grunt of understanding.
"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked after a long stretch of silence.
"Yes, Vincent, I looked all over for you to tell you that," she snidely responded. She glanced at him, and further taunts died in her throat. The sun had lowered, dipping towards dusk, and the harsh orange colouring glinted off his wild hair, lighting some of the ebony strands on fire. He was still looking over Wutai, and she had a clear view of his profile.
He was beautiful. Yuffie, as she eyed him, mused that his was not normal Yuffie terminology, but she couldn't think of a more appropriate term.
She shook herself and hurriedly looked away, feeling her face flush and a lingering heat in the pit of her stomach.
She descended cautiously into the darkness of the mansion's basement, doing her best to ignore the twinges of pain in her left ankle with each step.
The monster lurking within the safe had not been an easy fight. But the materia had been worth it, and keys generally lead to valuables.
She grinned at Cloud's back as they descended. She did like her valuables.
They went cautiously forward into the eerie glow of the tunnel at the bottom of the stairs, Barret training his gun prosthetic on the roof, his eyes straining for any sign of aggression from the many bats. They came to the locked door they'd discovered earlier, Cloud inserting the key into the lock and turning it.
The 'click' of a lock falling open echoed in the tunnel. Yuffie resisted the urge to rub her hands together in glee as the thought of stashed away materia danced in her mind.
As the door swung open, the dancing materia stash in her mind was quickly pushed over a cliff by Disappointment. The room was full of coffins – she found her eyes immediately drawn to the one black coffin lying in the center, more ornate than the rest.
Barret was tense as he moved past her. Cloud moved slowly into the room, taking it all in. He approached the black coffin, apparently drawn to it as she was. Reaching it, he leaned forward to grab the lid.
"...To wake me from the nightmare."
The voice, a low monotone, seemed to echo in the confined room. Yuffie's eyes widened, and she clutched her shuriken to her more closely, her muscles tensing in nervousness.
Cloud drew his hand back sharply, a look of concerned surprise on his face, before suddenly reaching forwards once more and wrenching off the lid of the coffin.
The man who emerged would change her life forever.
Yuffie frowned.
Vincent had spent far too much of his life brooding, as far as she was concerned. Blamed himself for absolutely everything, which was absolutely ridiculous.
Lucrecia died. Well, kind of. So he locked himself for thirty years in a coffin and moped. Then he discovered that stupid cave, and decided he liked it better there.
And now I've found him here, on top of Da Chao, after something bad happened to me.
Her eyes narrowed.
Oh no he didn't.
"Vince," she said sharply, her words breaking the stillness of the night that had by then fallen.
"What exactly were you doing up here before I found you?"
She glared at the side of his head, his pale face shining starkly in the faint moonlight. He didn't respond for several moments, instead lowering his head to cover as much of his face as possible with his cloak.
"...Reflecting on my newest sins."
The words were murmured, nearly lost in the folds of scarlet cloth that covered the lower half of his face.
But Yuffie heard them anyways. And anger surged within her.
"Is that so?" she hissed, rising to her feet and stalking towards him. "Blaming yourself for what happened to me, were ya?" He said nothing, but tilted his head away from her.
"What, were you gonna build yourself a box out of rice-paper and lock yourself in it for another couple decades?"
Vincent refused to look at her. So she grabbed his shoulders and turned him forcefully, ignoring the startled look on his face.
"Don't you ever blame yourself for what happened to me," she hissed, locking his gaze with her angry stare. "Because it was not your fault." The image of the woman entombed within the mako crystal, a tear glinting on her cheek, flashed through her mind. "It was never your fault."
He seemed taken-aback by the vehemence of her voice, but he held her gaze, his eyes devoid of emotion.
"I left you there. If I hadn't – "
"There were more important places for you to be, Vinnie, than looking after a stupid ninja like myself who couldn't handle a bit of a bumpy ride," she interrupted. "DeepGround wasn't about to wait for me to wake up."
He looked away from her, and she was reminded of a sullen child. She released his shoulders, the fingers of her left hand aching from the pressure she'd exerted on them.
"What would you have done if I had died, Vince?" she asked quietly, never taking her eyes off the gunman as she felt the large part of her anger ebb away to reveal a sorrow for the man before her, who was just as stubborn as she was.
His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed.
"Don't say that," he said sharply.
"What would you have done, Vincent? If I had died down there, if you had never found me – "
"Don't!" he yelled, whirling to face her, breathing heavily as he glared at her with a mixture of rage and terror.
She eyed him with a strange sense of detachment.
"You've already thought all about that, haven't ya, Vince?"
He turned away again, and she watched him tense up as he fought to control himself. She sighed, and rose to her feet.
"If I was you, Vinnie," she said, reverting to her normal cheerful tone, "I would stop dwelling on the 'what ifs' and start thinkin' about the 'what ises'." She threw herself forward into a handstand, ignoring the painful stretching of her half-healed scars. "For example, a 'what is' is that you are here basking in my wonderful company, whether you like it or not." She gave a slight grunt as she tilted to keep her balance on the uneven ground, the blood began rushing to her head. "Ises. Fun word to say, you should try it."
"Is that what you wished to tell me?" he asked, his voice back to its usual monotone.
She stuck a tongue out at his back.
"Jeez, Vince, you that desperate to get away from me?" she joked, doing her best to ignore the voice in her head saying yes he is, he doesn't want to spend any more time with you, he's just being polite, who'd wanna stay with you, you who's so loud and annoying and ugly and-
"And nope, that's not it," she said, rather abruptly in an attempt to cut off the voice. "Well," she amended, "it is, but there's a whole lot more still." She bent herself forward to plant her feet under her and stood, rather ungracefully, resisting the urge to giggle as the blood abruptly rushed away from her head.
"Why do you not simply tell me?" he asked her. She didn't register the question for a moment, focusing on keeping her balance.
Then the question gave her shove, and she tripped over her own feet to land on her back and blink dazedly up at the stars.
"Uhh..." she floundered momentarily for an appropriate response. Because you, being the polite gentleman you are, won't laugh in my face but will instead quietly explain why it can't work and then run away and leave me. "What, doncha like the suspense?"
The shik noise of metal scraping rock marked his footsteps as he approached her where she lay. The stars above were suddenly blotted out as he leaned over top of her, frowning, his eyes glowing dimly in the darkness.
"Yuffie, what is it you wish to tell me."
She licked her lips, looking away, feeling the sudden urge to escape. Before she could fight it, she found herself scrabbling away from Vincent and back onto her feet, heading for the path.
"It's gettin' dark, Vinnie, I should probably head down and leave you to your thoughts and all that," she called over her shoulder, hating her cowardice and enjoying the relief of running away at the same time.
Her progress was abruptly halted by a hand grabbing her arm, spinning her back around. She stared at her sneakers, unable to meet Vincent's gaze.
"You asked me to not allow you to leave until you told me," he reminded her quietly.
She scratched the back of her calf with her other foot awkwardly.
"Yeah, I know but...we need, um, food, and stuff, ya know, so I thought I should just go down and get some..." she trailed off, glancing up at him.
"There is a large stash of supplies on the crest of the mountain, left for pilgrims," he stated dryly. "As I'm sure you were very much aware."
She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away from him again, feeling incredibly uncomfortable under his red gaze. It reminded her of when Godo had caught her trying to break into his room.
"Yuffie."
She looked up, surprised at the gentleness of his tone. He met her gaze solemnly for a moment, before focusing on her right shoulder instead, his forehead wrinkling in thought.
"...I have not run away. It was obvious that you wished to tell me something of some importance, so I stayed, out of...respect for you. You should give yourself the same respect." He lifted his eyes back to hers, the sincerity in them evident.
She swallowed, biting down on her lip, feeling the insane urge to burst into tears while wrapping Vincent in a hug. Instead, she just nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to where they'd been.
Each day afterwards was the same.
Much of the day was spent in silence, as both were lost in their own thoughts.
Yuffie would sporadically tell Vincent whatever popped into her mind.
When she had finished, he would ask, "Is that what you wished to tell me?" And she would reply in a sarcastic, joking (never serious, because she didn't like serious) that no, it wasn't.
On the fifth day, she told him that he had never needed to apologize for yelling at her the day she burned his coffin. And that he should actually never ever actually apologize to me because it's usually me getting you into trouble anyways.
"I probably could've, ya know, tried actually talking to you first, but it just seemed so much more effective to just go ahead and burn it at the time..."
"Yuffie, there's no need for you to apologize about that."
"Yes, there is, Vinnie, so kindly shut up."
"Sorry."
"Vince! What did I just spend twenty minutes rambling to you about?"
"...Sorry."
She smacked his arm. And the eeny-weeny smirk on his face made her beam like an idiot and butterflies erupt in her stomach.
The eighth day, she abruptly asked him if he still felt the need to repent for his sins.
She eyed him, rather nervous as to how he'd take such a forward question. He appeared to be considering the question carefully, staring out at Wutai but not really seeing it.
"Yes," he'd responded, and she felt a great sense of disappointment.
"But not the same way I used to," he continued, and she perked up, staring at him attentively. "Someone showed me that holing myself up in a coffin is not a way to make amends."
She grinned at him. Curious, she asked, "Who showed you?"
He glanced at her in surprise.
"You did."
She blinked, and felt her cheeks flush. She quickly looked away.
"Ya know, back when...back when I stole everyone's materia, and then Aerith died right after...you, um..." She pretended to become incredibly interested in the dirt, doodling random shapes in it and refusing to look anywhere near him as she felt the blush in her cheeks grow brighter.
"You really helped me keep together, then, annnnd I guess I just really want to thank you for that, and maybe you can use that as a 'get out of sin free card' or something, 'cause, you know, that should count for something, if you ask me, and ya know I really gotta go get a drink of water – "
She'd ran all the way to the top of the mountain, feeling his eyes on her back the whole time.
When she returned, he was exactly where he had been, and she hummed noisily to herself, attempting to act normal (which was futile, she knew, because she was way too far gone down the path of insanity to ever come close to normal ever again). She gradually relaxed when he didn't say anything, and just as she started to return to a relatively tranquil state –
"You're welcome, Yuffie."
She told him much over the first two weeks they sat upon the mountain. Some of what she told him was serious and deep, most of it was whatever random thought popped into her head at the time.
It was all important to her.
But the most important thing, the main driving force behind her original search for him, remained unspoken.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so much sometimes it hurt. But every time she considered speaking those words, that little voice in her head would speak up again.
Her left hand no longer ached. The many scars dotting her skin were fully healed, and already beginning to fade.
But she was still damaged. And she loathed her own weakness at being unable to overcome her insecurities.
It was their seventeenth night on the mountain.
The wind was brisk, the temperature cooler than usual for a summer's night in Wutai. She sat with her knees hugged to her chest in an attempt to remain warm.
She had thought that her determination was returning, that her strength and confidence had finally found their way back to shore after being washed away that first day she'd seen him.
But she remained unable to tell him, and she could feel a despair beginning to creep over her. The voice whispered persistently in the back of her mind, Yuffie being too tired to attempt to shut it up.
A warmth draped over her, and she looked up to see a concerned Vincent standing over her. She automatically pulled his cloak more snugly against her.
"Thanks," she said quietly. He nodded, sitting himself down a few inches to her right.
The voice in her head didn't stop. If anything, its volume was increasing.
Loud, ugly, annoying, thieving, obnoxious, who'd want to love you, you're worthless, useless –
"What is it, Yuffie?"
She jumped slightly, startled by his voice. They'd been sitting quietly for hours now.
"It's nothing," she responded once she'd recovered from her surprise. She attempted to give him a reassuring grin, but it came out as more a grimace, her face too tired and her mind too depressed to be able to give a full-fledged smile.
He gave her one of his Looks, that let her know she wasn't fooling him at all, but he didn't press the issue.
She gave an inward sigh, closing her eyes. The voice continued its stream of comments, maliciously gleeful.
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked abruptly, then instantly regretted it, scrunching her face up in embarrassment. "Pretend I didn't say that, it doesn't matter," she quickly revised, feeling her face flush in humiliation. In her peripheral vision she saw Vincent turn to look at her, a surprised expression on his face. She steadfastly refused to look at him as several seconds of silence passed.
"Yes."
She tilted her head to see Vincent staring at her.
Good ol' Vinnie, always the polite one.
She gave a small snort, looking away from him again.
"...You don't believe me?" he asked.
She shrugged, feeling awkward.
"It's alright, Vinnie, you don't have to spare my feelings or anything. It doesn't matter anyways, stupid question."
"What could I do to convince you of it?"
Kiss me. Hold me. Touch me. Love me.
Biting down on her lip, she tried to disappear into his cloak. She was temporarily distracted as she breathed in his scent – gunpowder and earth mingled with the dust of Da Chao.
"I told ya, Vince, just forget about it."
"No."
She found her gaze drawn back to him at his stubborn response.
"What? Why not, just leave it alone, will ya?" she snapped at him, feeling irritated by the whole conversation.
"Insecurity does not suit you," he replied, heedless of her wishes.
Her jaw dropped open, momentarily stunned by his blunt response. He raised one eyebrow in a wordless challenge.
"I am not insecure," she growled.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
"Then why is it that we've spent nearly eighteen days atop this mountain, waiting for you to tell me something?" he asked softly.
She stood up, pacing angrily, but unable to deny the words.
"And why do you ask me if you are beautiful, and not believe me when I tell you yes?"
She paced more rapidly, starting to shake as a dam she'd built without realizing started to fracture and break.
"Yuffie – "
"Why?" she yelled, gesturing violently with her hands. "Why, because no one, no one, no guy, has ever – " She was crying now, choking out the words, " – has ever so much at looked at me, with the one, measly exception of the – the soldiers who raped me. I mean, I guess I should be grateful that they didn't put a bag over my head."
"Yuffie – "
"So tell me, Vince, why I should believe I'm beautiful, when the only touch I've ever felt is one of pain and hate."
She refused to look at him, her vision blurred with tears as she stood with her fists clenched, before her knees gave way and she sank to the ground, hiding her face in her hands and drawing a shaky breath.
"Gawd, I'm sorry Vince, I didn't mean to dump that all on you," she whispered tiredly, feeling humiliated.
Very well fucking done, Kisaragi, go spill all your shit on his doorstep, gawd you are such an idiot sometimes.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Yuffie."
She stiffened at the words, tensing up. "Don't start that again, Vincent," she said roughly.
"If I had found you earlier, I – "
She rose to her feet once more, spinning and facing him, and shoved him hard, making him take a quick step backwards to compensate.
"Don't," she sobbed. "Don't blame yourself because it's not your fault, Vincent, alright? It's not your fault I got captured, and I had plenty of opportunity to save myself the pain, but I chose not to, and you had a world to save, and I was not important, stopping Omega was important, okay? So stop it."
"Why didn't you just tell them what they wanted to know?" he asked, his voice sounding constricted.
"Because I cared too much, because I was, am, fucking in love with you, and I couldn't betray you again, alright!"
A deafening silence followed her exclamation as Vincent stared at her and her exhausted brain caught up to her mouth.
As she realized what she'd said, she clapped her hand to her mouth, and did the only thing she could.
She turned and ran.
A/N: Hooray, emotional cliffhanger! Honestly, I never intended it to end that way, but...well, that's just how that chapter wanted to end. I wasn't sure at first how to write Yuffie's reaction to everything, but I just looked at her character, and thought, 'How would this affect her?' I hope I did a decent job of it.
Next chapter will follow the same format as chapter 2 – Vincent's perspective of the same events.