I think this needed an overhaul for a good while now, since I wrote it years ago...so here we go, the updated version of this!

Obligatory disclaimer- Yeah, I don't own FFVII.


Rain lashed at Nibelheim in the worst storm the town had seen in years. The rolling spurts of rain clattered noisily over the rooftops and ran down in rivulets, creating large puddles on the ground; accompanied by its friend the howling wind, rattling at the windows. A distant boom of thunder broke the noise of the constant splashing, followed soon by a blazing crack of lightning. The storm seemed determined to rouse the sleeping inhabitants of Nibelheim, yet it only succeeded in waking one. At the end of town, sleeping in the old mansion, Vincent Valentine stirred...

Vincent blinked sleepily, listening to the sounds of the storm, stretching his cramped arms from where he had dozed off on the sofa. Shaking his tousled black hair from his eyes, Vincent stretched a final time, before getting to his feet and wandering to the kitchen. Casting his eyes to the clock on the wall, he saw that it was two thirty-five in the morning. "Damn," he muttered, yawning widely. "Why now?" He stumped, rather grumpily, to the living room and sat on the window sill, scarlet gaze intent yet half-lidded.

However, a movement outside a few minutes later caught his eye. That wasn't rain... Vincent thought, moving closer to the window, his breath misting the glass. Irritated, he wiped the mist away and peered outside. There was someone out there, in the middle of the storm at two forty in the morning. Probably a traveller, he concluded.

The young girl outside was drenched, her hair plastered to her head, and she was only dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. She swayed where she stood for a moment before collapsing limply to the floor, where she lay still.

Still watching from inside, Vincent started. "Better help..." he said to himself, walking to the door, picking up his cloak from the handle and fastening it. Opening the door, the force of the wind nearly blew him backwards, but, bowing his head, hair whipping round his face, he ran down the path to see who it was who had collapsed. He vaulted over the iron gate at the bottom of the path and reached the girl lying unconscious near the well. Vincent knelt down beside her and turned her head so as to see her face, eyebrows contracting when he recognised her.

"Yuffie..." he murmured. Wasting no more time, Vincent slid an arm under her shoulders, the other under her legs, and picked her up as easily as if she were a rag-doll. Keeping a firm hold of Yuffie's frail figure, he carried her back to the mansion, out of reach of the raging storm still pouring relentlessly.