The Beast and I stare at each other. For a long, long time. So that Vincent's blood dries on my arms and hands; I mean, I'm certainly not going to risk moving enough to wipe it off. That's the kind of vanity that gets people eaten.

You want to know how long this goes on? Not for seconds. Not for minutes. For hours. Hours.

Til the first light of dawn. You've got no damn idea how long that feels when your legs are asleep and there's nothing to do except stare into the eyes of some fickle hellbeast thing. I mean, you're terrified as well as bored. Plus, I mean, I'm no great spirit of love and charity, and I still don't like the guy, but I'm feeling motherly now (in a scary, occulty way) and I want to be sure Vincent was still in there. By every god, my feet are cold. Anyway, it's not like I can just walk back to camp. Turn my back on that Beast thing and try to walk away from it? Are you bloody well kidding me? No thanks, I don't have a death wish, I'm much too materialistic for that.

When the edge of the sun pokes its nose out over the horizon, however, the Beast blinks and vanishes. Not in the big, dramatic, rain-of-blood nightmare he'd emerged from, earlier that night; he just sort of winks out like a star, and in his place, Vincent lies on the ground, no longer bloody, white skin stainless and pure, stretched so taut over bone. He is breathing slowly, evenly; I can see his chest rise and fall.

I'm not proud of what I do then. I'm really not. But look, I still don't like him, and he's obviously somehow fine. Fabulous-wonderful, but I'm not going to hang around and wait for him to wake up. It's dawn, so the woods are safer. Besides, the peaceful, serene smile on Vincent's sleeping face frankly just pisses me off. I just stood all night staring into the cold red eyes of certain, goryo-iffic doom. Come on, is there no justice in the world?

So I turn away and push through the woods, tracing my trail by the half-light back to camp, and I leave Vincent there behind me in the woods. I'm going to get some sleep. I didn't sign up for this riveting, heroic shit. I just wanted to steal stuff.

000

Cloud, when he sees the circles under my eyes and hears my half-assed story about getting lost in the woods (I'm not too bothered about that WuTaian dignity at this point) is very sympathetic and tells me we'll take a break today and to go get some sleep. Okay, this isn't quite how it happens. At first he's just annoyed at me for "vanishing like that", plus he's demanding where Vincent went and when he'll be back (what am I, the goryo's mother?). Then Aeris – lovable sheepbrained voice of reason – steps in and suggests that I must be coming down with something, for a WuTaian ninja to be disoriented so easily, and that I should be allowed bed rest. I'm not even awake enough to be offended by the implications of this, nor concerned at Tifa's sad look when Cloud eagerly agrees. I'm just exhausted, frankly. That doesn't leave much room for anything else. The last thing I hear, as I stumble to my pup tent and slide myself through the flap, is Cloud agreeing that they'd go out and do some training for the day.

Camp to myself, I think. Lovely, too bad I won't be awake to enjoy it. And then my head hits my pillow and blessed blackness claims me.

I wake up refreshed, calm, warm-orange afternoon light filtering through the cracks of my tent, to a strange sound. I listen again, then realize what it is; someone is knocking on my tent flap.

Oh for crying out… "You don't knock on tentflaps, spaghetti-brain," I say patiently to whoever it is, "You either come in or you stay out." Sounds sort of wise, actually. I should write that down somewhere. He elects to come in.

It's Vincent, natch. I can't even bother to be surprised any more; nor can I work up much of my prior fear and loathing. Last night was too surreal to… well, to bother to even take seriously, as strange as that sounds. It's over, and he's obviously messed up in a big way, and I don't really have the time. "Rough night?" I say evenly, sitting up on my bedroll, running a sleepy hand through my hair.

He crouches awkwardly in a tent far too small for his gangling frame. Looks fine – what little you can see of his face, anyway. Just tired. So not fair. He looks better after being corporeally transformed into a demon than I do after a hangover. "To put it mildly."

"What happened last night?" I ask bluntly. He looks reluctant, but I'm not having that crap. "Don't you dare say it's none of my beeswax! I've got a right to know."

He pauses, which I'm used to, I guess. He'll speak when he's ready. And he does, finally. "Goryo," he says slowly. "You called me a goryo."

I snort. "Don't you dare get pissy at me, either. I think I kind of had a reason."

He shakes his head. "It's not that. I was… surprised you knew that word."

Well, tickle me pink, my most sarcastic inner voice says in a special brand of ubersarcasm. You don't say. "Why be surprised? I am WuTaian," I point out. "I mean, you noticed that, you pointed it out. And it's a WuTaian story, right?"

He hesitates. "You don't quite understand. The reason I commented – "

I flap my most casual hand at him. (It happens to be my left.) "No, I get it. I get a lot of attention. People around here aren't exactly politically cor – "

"No, you don't 'get it'." Now he sounds almost irritated, which I think is sort of rich, considering what I've had to put up with over the last day. "Why should I care that you're WuTaian? I've half WuTaian blood myself. You just looked different. You had the hair, the eyes, but you… you look different."

Despite me, my curiosity is piqued. "Different from what?"

"A normal WuTaian girl," he snorts. "In my time in WuTai, the girls wore kimono. Had long hair. Do they all dress like you now?" He eyes my short hair and hotpants with obvious distaste very poorly concealed. "Is that the fashion?"

My laugh is too bitter for someone in her teens. Gods, I'm aging prematurely, on top of everything else. "No. It's not a WuTai thing, it's a Yuffie thing. Don't worry, your precious pretty kimono are…" and then I realize what he's said. "You're half WuTaian?"

He nods slightly.

I look at him and, yes, I can't believe I didn't see it. Of course he's half WuTaian. He looks WuTaian. He looks almost exactly like Tseng, who got an unbelievable amount of flak when he was hired just for having some ancient WuTaian grandmother. "Leviathan," I blurt out, "I am such an idiot!" I'm really kicking myself, too. I was so busy being pissy at him that I didn't even notice what was staring me in the face. Then, all of a sudden, that makes me pissy, too. Why should I be the one on the guilt trip? I didn't terrorize some poor lost teenage girl in the woods. "So what's the other half?" I say snidely. "Fickle hellbeast?"

That does the trick with satisfying speed. Vincent melts in on himself, looking small and fragile. "Please…"

"What? Don't tell the others?" I scoff. "Of course I'm going to tell the others. I owe you nil, goryo boy."

"Not that," he says. "I've already told them. Just now."

I consider this. "How did they take it?" I ask curiously.

"Not badly," he says dryly. "Your leader's exact words were 'Whatever. We've got other things to worry about'."

I measure the words against Cloud. Yeah, they fit. He's such a pooft. "Figures," I groan. "That's Cloud. Doesn't want an innocent WuTaian exchange student, but he'll take the evil ravening demon thing."

"It's not a demon," Vincent says bitterly. "Actually, it's extremely scientific."

I settle myself a little. "Why do I get the feeling there's a big, long story full of heartbreak behind this?"

Vincent eyes me coldly. "Perhaps there is. But you'll never know it."

"Not even if I ask?"

"I appreciate what you did last night," he says quietly. "But there are matters I prefer to keep private and which, no, I will not share."

And you know what? I can accept that. Honor, pride. That's a WuTaian thing. It reminds me of home. I act offended, though. I know how to grab a slight moral edge. "Well, I hope you're proud of yourself. Considering." He does look guilty, well, the half-inch of his eyes that I can see looks guilty. The rest of him just looks cloaked. "Tell me this, though,' I said, and I really am curious about this part and really do want to know. "You told me it wouldn't hurt me. Was that the truth? Because I mean…" I remember how he looked, on the ground, in such utter pain. "You know, in that situation, I'd probably lie."

He chuckles slightly. It's rather unnerving. "It was the truth," he says. "The beast is a weapon. It won't and cannot hurt those with pure hearts."

"How do you know I have a pure heart?"

"I gambled," he says flatly, but then his eyes soften. "I didn't think it likely that I'd be wrong."

I feel myself blushing. Oh no no no, don't do this to me, body. Stomach, stay butterfly-free. You've still got to rake this guy over the coals. He deserves it. "I resent that," I told him. "I'm a big-time materia thief, truth be told. No one messes with me."

His look is unimpressed. "I was a Turk," he replies dryly. "We're even."

"A –" This is just getting ridiculous. "What the f…uffle?" I exclaim, throwing one arm out in emphasis, forgetting we're in a tent. It smacks sort of painfully into the canvas. Vincent is good enough not to comment. "You're a Turk?! What the hell! Seriously, I don't care what Cloud says, AVALANCHE has GOT to have some kind of damn rule against that. You can't just be on both sides at once!"

"I was a Turk," Vincent replies sharply. "Now I hate them. I stand by Cloud Strife and his party."

I shake my head. "What makes you so sure Cloud Strife and party even WANT you? What do you have against you? Let's see." I tick the reasons off on my fingers. "Locked in a coffin for seventy years, doesn't really know anything. Ex-Turk. Scary fashion sense. And, oh yeah, lest we forget, has a GORYO inside him. And what do you have going in your favor?" I held out two empty palms. "Yeah, you guessed it, a big fat nothing. Someone tell this man what he's won."

"I offer my weakness," Vincent says simply.

I stare at him. "What?"

"I offer my weakness," he repeats. "I am not the strongest member of your team. I am well-aware of that. The faults you listed are true. I was a warrior, once, and in time that will return to me. But until then, I will serve as the weak link. It is not a dishonorable position. Noble warriors fight harder, knowing others depend upon them."

I think about that. It seems to be true. I can't think of any other excuse for Elena, anyway. "Too bad," I say. "I was sure you were going to be the comic relief."

He gives me a weird look, like he can't even tell whether I'm joking.

I sigh. "I was sleeping. Is there something important you wanted to say?"

"I apologize," he says, and his muffled voice is deeply troubled. "I want to say that formally, and be sure you know. I treated you dishonorably. I'll go." And he turns to do just that.

This could be the end, between us, I realize. We could be honorable enemies, me and this goryo. We each know where the other stands. I could be noble. I could be proud.

Or I could take the next step, the step after that. Move from cold honor to warm friendship. Move from believing that there's a goryo out there waiting to get me to believing there's a broken man, right here, who needs some kindness. Who could maybe offer me something in return.

"Hey," I say, as he's half-disappeared out the tent flap. "You lived like a kazillion years ago, right?"

I can see his shoulders stiffen as he sighs. Well, whatever. "Something along those lines."

"In WuTai, right?"

He glances back at me. "Yes."

"Tell me about it," I invite him. I pull myself up to sit cross-legged on my sleeping bag, purposely in a childlike pose, all ready to listen to stories. "You nailed it," I tell him. "WuTai has changed, big time. And frankly, I miss the old WuTai. Tell me about it like it was. Before geisha bars and tacky plastic statues of Leviathan."

He doesn't want to talk about his past. I can see it in his eyes. Well, boo hoo hoo, cry we a river. It's my past too. And I'm entitled. "Don't want to be the weak link?" I challenge him. "Don't want to be the goryo? Pull your weight. Tell me about the past."

He hesitates.

I smile. My winning, ugly, foxy little smile. "I'll bring you up to speed on the future," I say. "It'll be a contract. I'm a super-savvy businesswoman. Ask Aeris. She'll tell you."

The seconds roll past the afternoon, towards the sun. And Vincent – shaking his head visibly at his own folly – steps back into the tent.

"Ooh," I say brightly. "Storytime."

"Firstly," Vincent says sarcastically, "I remember WuTaian ladies as retiring and demure."

"Obviously some things have changed for the better," I say, and wait for more. But Vincent's doing his stupid guilt thing again, looking away, hesitating.

"You don't want this," he says. "You think I'm a goryo."

"Pssht. Dumb old codger," I scoff. "The first thing you've got to learn about this exciting modern world is that there's no such thing as goryo. Now come on," I order. "Let's hear something less boring. You know, I haven't got all day."

THE END

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this, it was quite a lot of fun to write, a neat place to go within Yuffie's character. If you've read the whole story through, I'd be very grateful if you'd take the time to review. It's always nice to know you're not writing to the void! Much love, Locked Heart Ami.