A/N: This chapter took a few weeks to write. I've been very busy with school, so please don't be too mad about the wait for updates. To make up for the prolonged wait, I decided to make this chapter a bit longer. I'm not too satisfied with the ending, but it was necessary for the plot. I hope you don't find it too unrealistic.

[Important notes: This is an AU, yet not an AU - there is still Midgar, Kalm, etc., but no 'Meteorfall', Vincent in a coffin for 30 years, etc. So keep in mind that it's the same setting with entirely new events.]

- I included a sequence where Vincent uses his powers to delve into Yuffie's short term memories/subconscious. Her thoughts are in bold. I was trying to make it seem like Vincent was reliving the event himself and watching it play out through her point of view, but limited.

A much shorter a/n than usual :) Once again I apologize for neglecting this story, and I hope you will still continue to read/review in the future. Thanks for the support so far, and 10 great reviews.

-Rot

Disclaimer: I do not own The Last Vampire or FFVII

Thirst

CHAPTER --- 3

When I realize what I have done, I am gripped by a shadow of horror. Self-loathing...disgust.

Despite what legends have claimed, I cannot create another vampire simply by biting a mortal. I must mix my blood with theirs – it is best if a human consumes my blood, drinks it, until they gag with the loss of life and feel their mortality beginning to crumble, as their internal organs fight a battle against the poison slowly spreading within.

But this girl...

A part of me wretches. I am suddenly distinctly aware of what I have done. Though taking the blood so violently was a crime, it gave me the clarity to understand the horror of it. Quite the contradiction.

She fell, limp against me; tiny and frail, bones protruding beneath her skin. It was a strange knowing that suddenly the girl's life was in my hands, a fragile and tiny life, and that I could perhaps protect it rather than destroy it.

But I would have destroyed her if I hadn't regained my senses. The darkness creeping up my spine disappears. The feral part of me – the longing and desire for blood – is sated. My mind is no longer clouded, hazy; with the puncture of my fangs into her skin, I was regained my sight, could see the microscopic detail of the pores of her skin, the thread in her clothes.

The girl is ill, that I know. She is a frail and sickly human being, but not from physical ailments – seemingly from deserting the will to live. I touch her gently; feel her pulse, check for bradycardia, use my sight to examine the wound near her throat. Her heart rate is slow, but she isn't in danger; the tiny holes near her jugular did not pierce the skin to kill. I never stalk to kill when I am in the dire need to drink.

Her breathing is heavy. A low breeze whips through the alleyway, empty of all other living souls. We are completely surrounded by towering, dilapidated houses of the inner-city. Wutai. What a terrible place to be. It is filled with beggars, drunks, gamblers. Few pure remain.

It is understandable that this girl would resort to suicide. Humans have interesting, fascinating minds. They are easily influenced by the actions and words of others, especially those close to them; and it is usually those closest to them that can cause them great joy or great harm. I am almost certain that she chose death to escape someone – or perhaps something – in her life.

I touch the girl, feel for where my nails pierced her back. The claw marks will leave no scars. She leans against me, feather-light. It is apparent that she has not eaten in almost a day's time.

I allow myself to support her, as it is not difficult to hold her tiny body. As we touch physically, I focus and gather the necessary information I seek, to clear up the cloud of confusion, and allow myself to slowly slip into her subconscious mind.

–--

She runs, prey being chased.

A man, behind her – man, no a monster, she is sure he's a monster.

There is her breath all around, in a sickly sweet cloud, tainted with the light spray of blood on her lips. Her ankle is twisted; she is gripping the gun, her left hand is bleeding -

Thoughts are scattered, swarming angrily through her brain, loud and horrified enough for me to comprehend -

- Let me get out alive they killed him they'll kill me too please God -

Thunder rolls; a damp mist sprays her clothing, cloth torn at her shoulder, thudding footsteps echoing in the vacated streets, two more of them following now -

She is confused, afraid, running for her life, slipping away from the murder scene in the middle of the night. A street light flickers, the footsteps are louder, I sense five total, all toting guns -

- Why is this happening God need to get out -

Her hair whips against her face, the gun is shaking, she does not want to use it, does not want their blood on her hands, the killers of her father....

---

I am suddenly rejected from her thoughts.

Hyperaware of her thoughts, emotions, mental state, I feel suddenly very crowded, unable to delve into her mind any longer.

There is a groan, faint. I realize she is regaining some consciousness. I look up above to see that the sun will rise in less than four hours.

Drinking from this girl – Kisaragi Yuffie, the name I gathered when I explored her subconscious – has cleared her of the memory, of my attack and the pain; but I did not feed enough for her to lose recollection of everything before it. She will remember toting the gun, running from her pursuers. She will remember it all.

It is clear to me now: this girl was not attempting suicide. Childlike and lost at nineteen, she was fleeing from the scene of a crime with no intentions of suicide. In her thoughts, scattered and frantic as they were, it was clear that her her father was murdered by the men following her. I was unable to see, from her minds eye, their faces. Of course she would not look back.

Why was she being chased? For what reason was her father targeted and killed? In this exploration I have only given myself more questions. But I do not branch my senses and try to read her again. It would not be wise to try.

For a moment I think. I am sure that if she was being followed before, just hours ago, the men may still be looking for her. The city is smaller than Midgar; it is meant for travelers and provides few adequete places to hide.

I quickly go over my options.

Leave the girl – but this is wrong. It is, in some way, inhumane of me. How funny that I associate myself at all with humanness. But this is no laughing matter. I cannot desert her and let her die.

Take the girl – but this could be incredibly risky. It is evident that I too am being hunted by someone who knows entirely too much about my identity. We are both on the lamb. I am unsure.

Return the girl – but to where? Certainly not home. Her home, it seems, is the scene of the murder. Most likely her father's attackers entered the home, murdered the man, and went after the girl. Yuffie.

She is groaning quietly, in obvious discomfort. I take off my cloak and wrap it around her body, offering her no warmth of my own, but a covering for her wounds. Her wounds – I should have considered them. I must get her wounds taken care of at least.

Wutai is not safe. We will return to Midgar, to the outskirts, but not back to my hotel. Shinra's men could be waiting for me there, a secret ambush planned for my capture. Kalm is also not an option. Returning to my mansion would be even more foolish.

"Kisaragi Yuffie..." I mutter aloud. I shake my head. I really ought to be careful about who I bite in these modern times.

I gather her in my arms; feel a trickle of blood from her shoulder drip onto my arm. But her blood is not tantalizing to me now – her blood has revealed entirely too much. With a few agile leaps, I scale the two buildings and hop onto the roof, and begin my journey to Midgar's edge.

THIRST

When the girl – Yuffie awakens, I can sense her disorientation, her fear and confusion. Her emotions are jumbled, overtaken with anxiety; her heart begins to pound, a quick, steady increase of her pulse booming in both of our ears.

I turn to her. Soften my stare as much as possible, to protect her from the sense of my true age. I say nothing.

From the moment I began my escape from Wutai, I knew I would have to be careful, quick. I would not stop for anyone, even if that meant their death. But I was able to escape without killing a civilian, running too fast for the careless human eye to detect, though slowly enough to ensure I would not break the girl's spine.

We entered the border of Midgar sooner than I anticipated, which was to my advantage. It was easier to manipulate the will of the man at the desk of our hotel so early in the day. The employe at the desk listened to my words. My eyes pierced his. I held the girl in my arms. I didn't want any questions about her.

"Listen carefully – you will give us a suite on the ninth floor. You will give me the key. You will tell no one. You will not remember doing this. " The persuasion in my voice was thick and powerful. The man's will was easy to bend. He was tired, middle-aged - an easy target.

Accordingly I got our suite, room 205, while the man, in an almost hypnotic state walked back to his desk. Taking the girl to the hospital is not an option. I do not want anyone seeing her in this state, getting down her name or mine. The hospital personel will ask far too many questions, will be instantly suspicious if me. It is too great a risk.

Carefully I laid Kisaragi Yuffie on the bed; removed the cloak, and examined the shredded cloth on her back. My nails left scratches, red and swollen, some of the tissue of her flesh torn. I went into the bathroom and examined the drawers. Tiny shampoo bottles and towels. Some bandages, tiny and large, with a first aid kit. I took them.

The puncture wounds in her neck are already fading. They are not as deep and grisly as they were just thirty minutes ago. Strangely, wounds from my fangs do not take very long to heal. But it cannot be said the same for my other attacks.

I can sense that Yuffie will awaken soon. Her mind is coming up from a deep haze and stress. I quickly, with inhuman speed, wipe the cuts and bandage them. They do not require stitches. They will heal in a few days' time.

I examine my surroundings. Our suite has a television with tiny cracks around the edges only visible to my eyes; a carpet that also has microscopic stains; fresh sheets but unwashed mattress covers; a tiny wet bar with orange juice and an assortment of tea and liquor; a desk with a telephone to call for room service. I remember Yuffie's hunger and think about calling for food.

Then, she begins to awaken.

In response to her movements, the groggy murmuring, I stiffen. I do not know how a mortal will react in the presence of a vampire, in such close proximity. In the past I have hardly ever taken a human as my companion; for centuries I have tolerated humans and interacted with them but never...cared for them, or befriended many. I fear they will become so afraid that they will want to reveal me to the rest of the world, thus resulting in their demise. And I don't prefer to kill when it isn't necessary.

Yuffie stirs. Her eyes – the eyes that created the urge in me, the strange eyes, watery and huge, so oddly similar to my lost wife's. I am struck by her eyes for the second time. They bare such a strange resemblance to Lucrecia's eyes. I feel I am looking at her once again, as I did thousands of years ago, meeting her gaze and feeling her devotion and her human companionship for me.

But I do not feel those emotions from this girl, when I return her gaze. She has fully regained consciousness; she rests on her elbows. Yuffie's eyes are wide with wonder and terror. My appearance often does this to human beings.

"Who are -"

I know I cannot let this escalate into some kind of battle between us – the girl struggling to get out of the room, to leave, to scream. "Listen to me – you are Yuffie Kisaragi. I am only here to help you. Earlier you were being attacked. And I saved your life."

I choose my words carefully, add a sense of empathy to them, to keep her from fearing me. I sense her body relaxing a little; but Yuffie does not entirely trust me. This is sensible of her. I can already tell that her will is not as easy to bend as the man's at the desk was.

"I am only here to help you," I repeat slowly and carefully, my voice smooth and soothing. "I am not like the men who were chasing you tonight. I am on your side."

Yuffie coughs. She clears her throat, thirsty. With mortal speed, I very slowly walk over and get a bottle of water. I do not trust the tap.

Yuffie accepts is with trembling hands. Her eyes dart about the room, avoiding my face. I furrow my brow. "Do not be afraid. I am - "

"Look...I get it, you're one of the good guys," she says. Her breathing is shaky. "Can you - just leave me alone?"

I decide it will be best to do as she asks. "As you wish," I say. I exit the bedroom and stand by the door. I feel that I must do as she says to avoid confrontation between us.

By her bedroom door, I stand very still, listening. I keep up my guard, even though I am in no immediate danger. But there is something odd about this. I listen within, through the paper thin walls, and hear strange rustlings. Perhaps it is the bedspread or the sheets? I stand a little closer, wishing my vision was enough to see through walls -

- Suddenly the door bursts open, and I am faced with Yuffie shoving her knife at my throat. Though I am quick enough to evade this attack - though it was apparent to me that the door was opening before she actually emerged - I humor her and allow myself to act as prey. I should have known she was concealing other weapons in her clothes.

Her will is fierce. She presses the knife closer, glowering. She snarls. "Where are we? And who are you? And how do you how exactly know about those creeps from Shinra who want me dead?"

THIRST