Diesmal wird es für immer sein
Auch diese Wunde wird verheiln
Ich reiß mich los muss mich befrein
denn unser Schicksal holt uns ein
MOUTH ON FIRE
In the world of his head, every movement she makes is some sort of tribal stamping dance. He knew she’d grown up, but he’d never suspected she would grow up this much. Their little Yuffie—his little Yuffie—hasn’t grown much taller, but her hair is longer and her expression is serious as she advances on the operative she sent to cover him.
“Gee, maybe I’m crazy, but I seem to remember ordering a stealth action,” she says with lips that are somehow wicked.
Vincent feels the urge, briefly, to take the blame. To see what that ire looks like when it’s directed at him. But Yuffie pulls a suction cup-covered shoe from her duffel bag and Vincent holds his tongue.
Edge is one humming, thrumming bustle around them. The clock in her head is ticking and she can see that Vincent is anxious to get back to work. So she doesn’t rush her decision, but she doesn’t exactly take her time, either.
“Well, I’m glad you decided to stay with us,” she tells him as they make their way back to the urban headquarters. Reeve will be staying at the Edge locale for several days, until they finish the repairs to the REAL HQ.
Each of his steps is timed, she realizes. He is slowly slipping into the pulse of the city, the rhythm of the street. It’s both odd and interesting to watch. Fascinating, really.
Okay, so she’s been crushing on him for a couple of years. But that doesn’t mean she can’t act professionally. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself as they move through the office and people make jokes about how short she is next to him. Everybody thinks maybe she should be a little taller. She thinks maybe everybody should shut the hell up. Vincent emits one of those three-beat silence moments and suddenly it’s all funny.
A quiet moment. Those are rare enough, especially in their lines of work, that Yuffie appreciates it. Sure, it might be coming while Reeve takes a shower and she waits to make an urgent report, but it’s still a quiet moment.
They stare at each other for a few minutes, excruciatingly aware of their differences in loyalties. She loves Wutai, always has, always will. And he is loyal to Reeve, will never let him down.
“You’ll be home tonight, I hope?” Vincent murmurs, voice devoid of accusation.
She nods, says nothing about all the times he hasn’t come home. Now’s not the time. Not when he’s smiling.
JANIE’S GOT A GUN
The door slams closed. Yuffie immediately turns and glares at the operative who might have had Vincent killed. It's the glare that she learned from Vincent.
The operative raises his hands.
Yuffie restrains herself from shouting. Just because she's pissed--really pissed, like terminate his employment with extreme prejudice pissed--doesn't mean the whole building has to know about it. When she speaks, her voice comes out in a harsh, nasty hiss, "I told you to stay out of sight. You could have died. Vincent could have died. And then we'd be out an agent and Reeve's bodyguard." And my absolute favourite person in the world, she thinks but doesn't say.
She sighs and kicks her desk. The heavy wooden structure moves several inches along the floor.
The operative squeaks.
She whirls and crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm not sure if I can afford to let you stay."
TSUMI NO SUNA / WAVE OF SAND
The bullets begin raining down all around him. He doesn't even hear the gunshots; it's like the world around him is all one long gunshot. It's like a thousand whips cracking right behind his head.
Vincent thinks of Yuffie, not just ordering that they stay out of sight, but of her smile, that peculiar habit of walking on railings. The way she throws back her head when she laughs.
"I'm going to get you out of this alive," he tells her panicking agent.
"Nice to see you out of that coffin," Yuffie chuckles.
When he replies that it's nice to see her too, she gives him a genuine smile. He likes that smile.