Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, it's characters, or anything pertaining to Final Fantasy VII.


The first thing I noticed was that she was crying; The normally brave and cheerful Yuffie Kisaragi, crying. The group was looking in awe at the incoming destruction that was Meteor, but Yuffie had resigned herself to a little corner, throwing up and crying.

It wasn't normal, the pang of guilt I felt in my chest. She shouldn't be alone. She shouldn't be crying. We were going to die anyways, why not give her comfort? Why not?

"Yuffie, are you alright?" It was a stupid question to ask, but it was the best I could come up with. When the destruction of the world behind you, you can't really think straight.

Through her tears she coughed out, "Vince, I don't want to die."

"Nobody wants to die Yuffie." I held her, she was surprised, but it's not like it would matter, any time now, the Meteor would impact Midgar. I felt the storms and shock waves from the Meteor, even though the airship was a good distance away.

"Vince," She whispered, turning in my arms, pressing her head against my chest, wiping her tears on my shirt. "Vince, I don't want to die a virgin."

It shouldn't have surprised when she kissed me, I couldn't think straight, I couldn't calculate the damage this would cause. Not like it would have mattered, we would be dead in a matter of minutes. Disinigrated. Gone.

I gave into her demands, I took her to the Chocobo stall on the ship. Of course no Chocobos were there, they had been dropped off to cut weight on board. We made love, in that smelly room, in the straw, as the whole ship shook from the Meteor.

It seemed to pass quickly, but I wouldn't say it wasn't the greatest and most thrilling time in my life, holding the teenager to my sweaty chest, as certain death came upon us.

Then I heard the most terrible sound in the world. Cheering. It came as a pleasant surprise at first, and then the situation settled into my brain. I was 57, a genetically altered man, holding a 16-year-old. My chest constricted, my breathing became quick. But I held her. I held her, as if to comfort her on the upcoming tragedys. I had to leave, nobody would take this lightly, I would be hunted down by those I had just learned to call my friends. I deserved it. It was another sin I had committed. Finally, we separated, each putting our clothes on.

"I won't tell anybody. Please, just don't disappear." She told me, tears again welling up in her eyes. I wanted to say I was sorry to even think about it, to say that I would stay and that everything would be alright. But I couldn't, and even she knew I had to leave. Even she knew there was no choice.

After a long silence, she spoke up again. "Atleast tell me where you're going. I still care about you. I want to know what happens to you."

"I don't know." I said stupidly. "I'm sorry."

"I love you."

I was silent, I knew my chance at opening my heart to her had passed. Everybody would hate me if I did. We had forty-one years between us. It wouldn't be taken very well.

I left, and for the first time in a long time, I was scared.