A/N: So I'm finally committing myself to a full-length Tifa/Sephiroth fic. I've actually had this kicking around for a few months now, so I finally went through it and did some heavy editing. It is as close as I can get it to being acceptable enough for the public.

This fic acknowledges the entire Compilation. Before Crisis, Crisis Core, FF7, Advent Children, and Dirge of Cerberus.

Feedback is always, always appreciated. Much love!

Chapter #1

Survival Tactics

Pain.

The moment she became conscious, Tifa became aware that she was in pain. Her arms hurt. Her wrists hurt. Her legs ached as though she'd spent hours running. Her spine felt wrenched out of place. When she moved her head, her neck burned.

Her head was the only part of her body she could move.

Panic rising in her chest, swelling like a balloon being slowly inflated until she was sure it would burst and she would scream at the top of her lungs. Cold metal held down her wrists and her ankles- she was shackled, literally chained to a flat metal surface.

Was she dead? Dreaming?

No. She hurt too badly for this to be a dream.

Tifa slowly became aware of the numerous discomforts her body felt besides the pain. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion. Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth, dehydrated, sore. Her stomach had that dull ache that meant she was beyond hungry. And if she could, if she didn't hurt so much and if she wasn't scared and confused, if she could convince herself that this was just a horrible dream, Tifa would have tried to go to sleep. She was tired.

But more than once in her life she had been forced to deal with life-threatening situations even when her body and mind had reached their limits. She closed her eyes, took a private moment to pull herself together, and looked around to asses her surroundings.

The room was lit by brisk white light that hurt her eyes. On her left there were several metal tables with various instruments laid out on them, and a strange sort of chemistry setup- a vial of black fluid rested in a test-tube holder, glittering strangely in the harsh light. On her right there was an odd glass chamber, cylindrical, large enough to fit a human being into. And, straining her eyes, she saw that there was somebody in there, floating in the strange green liquid that filled the chamber. Whoever was in there clearly wasn't happy about it- the poor thing thrashed about crazily, stirring up a whirlpool of bubbles. All Tifa could make out was the occasional glimpse of an arm or leg, tinted a sickly green in the liquid.

Her throat constricted as she stared at this bizarre scene. She was obviously in some sort of laboratory, though Tifa couldn't imagine who would bring her here, and for what purpose. The sight of that person in the chamber, obviously in excruciating pain, did not bode well for her.

Tifa cautiously flexed her arms. The simple little movement sent bolts of pain shooting up from her wrists to her shoulders, and she cried out in surprise. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she focused on relaxing her muscles in an attempt to make the pain go away.

"Oh, you're awake."

Her head snapped back to the left and she stared, speechless and dumbstruck, at the man who had silently entered the room and now stood beside her, studying her with mild interest.

Tifa blinked. Refocused. Blinked again. The apparition did not go away.

"You!" she whispered hoarsely, struggling to free her wrists. Pain burned its way up her arms, hot, searing pain that hurt so badly she had no choice but to stop moving.

"Welcome to my lab. Tifa, is it?" Hojo (or this man who looked very much like the scientist) smiled thinly, eyes glittering behind his glasses.

Tifa glowered at him, still not trusting her eyes, certain this had to be some strange hallucination brought on by exhaustion or shock. "Let me go." Her throat burned when she spoke, she was so thirsty.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, apart from him," Hojo nodded at the large glass chamber, "you are my most prized specimen. At the moment, of course."

"Specimen?" Tifa whispered. Her mind finally acknowledged that this couldn't be a hallucination- it was too real. His voice made her skin crawl, and she had a sudden mental image, sharp and detailed, of Vincent Valentine, with his crimson eyes and metal prosthetic.

"Yes, specimen. Don't worry, the procedure won't be a very painful one. In fact, it could potentially be very pleasant, though I doubt you'll be cooperative enough to enjoy it. Then there is only nine months of waiting, and your life will be over." Hojo walked over to the table with the vials and tubes on it. He picked up the vial of black fluid and returned to her side in a slow swagger. "Once the pregnancy is confirmed..."

"Pregnancy?" Tifa cried, finally recovering the full use of her voice. She made renewed efforts to break the shackles around her wrists, jerking her arms desperately, ignoring the excruciating agony that movement caused her. Hojo continued, apparently unaware of her distress.

"I will be able to inject the fetus with the cells." He stared at the vial in his hand intently, as though it might be hiding something from him. For several seconds there was silence. Then, "You see Tifa, I don't like failures. They bother me. I should have known better, last time. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"What are you talking about?" The longer she could keep him talking, the better her chance of escape. She needed a plan. No, she needed a massive stroke of luck...

"Inferior genetics. That was the problem. Sephiroth's human genes were inferior. This time around," Hojo's eyes had taken on a rather insane gleam, "I'll have a much better carrier."

"Carrier?"

"Of course, the original is right there, but he is useless to me now. So uncooperative. Really, I'm surprised he isn't more supportive of my research. It's the reason he's alive, after all."

"Sephiroth," she breathed, snapping her head back and looking at the glass chamber, where the subject in question continued to thrash and flail about.

"He's proven difficult. I can only guess what went wrong...he had so much potential. But his mental illness is unacceptable. Of course, he is only a prototype."

Tifa turned her gaze back to Hojo, unwilling to accept or even entertain the possibility that the person in the chamber really was Sephiroth.

"And when are you planning on doing this...procedure?" she asked, masking the tremor in her voice with great difficulty.

"Immediately," Hojo replied briskly. "So, if you'll just lay back and relax, we can get started."

She stared at him, still not comprehending, until he approached her and placed one hand on her waist. Then she got it.

"No," she whispered, trying vainly to free her arms and legs. "No...get away from me..."

Hojo smiled placidly, running his hand from her waist to her leg, then gripping her inner thigh.

"I chose you for numerous reasons," he said, his eyes roving over her body. She shuddered, jerking her arms, trying to break the shackles around her wrists. "Firstly, because you and your friends have ruined my life's work. Secondly, you are a good, strong body, and you should be able to handle the pregnancy right to the end. And thirdly, I have to admit..." Hojo's smile grew, "you're quite the catch."

"Creep!" Tifa spat at him. He laughed and slid his hand along her leg. She screamed, letting out so many profanities in one sentence that even Cid Highwind would have been impressed, and tried her very best to thrash around. Hojo shook his head and placed his other hand on her breast, squeezing it lightly.

"Now now, don't be like that," he chided. "It will be over quickly, I promise." He moved to the end of the table and studied her appraisingly. "You really are a very attractive..."

Crack.

Hojo glanced up, his concentration broken. Tifa craned her neck to get a better look at what had distracted the man.

There was a hairline crack running the length of the glass chamber.

Hojo reacted quickly, pulling out a small pistol and aiming it directly at the chamber.

"Don't move," he hissed at her.

"I can't..."

His hand connected with the side of her face, though his attention remained focused on his other "specimen." Tifa sucked in her breath, outraged and itching to strike back at the man responsible for her current situation. She was not used to being immobilized, and it infuriated her.

Crack.

Hojo's expression darkened.

"Listen, I don't want to be strapped to a table if he's about to break out of there!" Tifa snapped. She was aware of her heart beginning to pick up speed, thudding rapidly against her ribs. Her breathing grew ragged.

"He won't break out." Hojo sounded too confident.

Tifa was not reassured. If experience had taught her anything, it was this- if you don't think it will happen, it's probably going to. Sort of her own version of Murphy's law.

The crack in the chamber had become a splinter. Fluid dripped out, a steady plonking noise filling the silent room.

"That's not really Sephiroth," she whispered, quite sure that even Hojo wasn't crazy enough to think a bullet would stop Sephiroth. If it was Sephiroth.

"Quiet!"

The sound of glass shattering startled her so badly she shrieked. Whether it was pure reaction or a pre-emptive attack Tifa would never know, but Hojo fired two consecutive shots at whatever had just broken out of the chamber. One of his bullets must have hit something important, because every light in the lab went out, and they were left in total blackness. She only knew Hojo was beside her because he was breathing quite loudly, obviously terrified.

"How kind of you to invite me over, Professor Hojo." A cold, deep voice... a voice Tifa knew very well, if only in her nightmares...

"Get off! Get off of me!"

She heard scuffling, sobbing, and laughing coming from somewhere by her feet. Something warm and wet sprayed across her face, and she automatically screamed.

"No! No!" Hojo's voice cracked- he was clearly in pain.

She heard a sickening thud, then silence. Tifa didn't dare breathe.

I'm going to die, she thought wildly, and screamed again when she felt a hand on her ankle. And suddenly the restraint on her right leg popped off. Then her left leg was freed- she writhed on the table in absolute panic, striking out with her legs in a desperate attempt to at least make contact with her liberator.

"Get back!" she screamed.

The hands were on her wrists now, freeing her arms, and holding on to them in an iron grip.

"Stop." That voice. She shuddered involuntarily. It was cold, icy, a voice that gave orders often and expected them to be followed. The grip on her wrists tightened. "You are coming with me," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. He threw her over his burly shoulder rather roughly. Tifa pounded her fists against his back furiously as he moved through the darkness.

Then a door was flung open, and harsh sunlight assaulted her eyes. She recognized the village instantly; it was Icicle. The bitter temperature shocked her scantily clad body. She noticed dimly that her captor had a mane of silver hair. And a very long sword.

No.

Her mind rebelled against it savagely. She continued to hammer on his back, screaming as loudly as possible.

"Help! Somebody help!" She didn't remember Icicle being this empty. Nobody so much as poked their heads out of their windows to see who or what was causing such a ruckus. Tifa's faith in humanity did a nosedive.

Sephiroth skidded down a small, snowy slope and made towards the hill at the end of the village. Tifa continued to pound on his back, though it seemed he didn't even notice.

"I said stop," he hissed in her ear, and slammed her down on the ground. She yelped as her back struck the hard, icy earth. He withdrew his sword and placed it against her neck. The cold, sharp metal burned her skin. "Are you going to cooperate, or will I have to kill you?"

"You'll have to kill me," Tifa gasped, struggling to regain her breath. She refused to look at him, focusing instead on his black leather boots.

"I'm afraid that's not an option at the moment. Now, be quiet and cooperate. We have to get out of here."

"What do you mean we? I don't have to go anywhere..."

He seized her by her throat and lifted her into the air as though she was weightless. Struggling to breathe as his hand tightened around her throat, Tifa finally looked at his face.

"Shall I leave you here for Hojo's flunkies, then?" he asked, his emerald eyes blazing furiously despite the calmness in his voice.

"Like you care," Tifa whispered breathlessly. Sephiroth flung her over his shoulder once again. She winced, but kept quiet.

"Better," he said approvingly as he marched towards the steep hill.

"We can't go this way," Tifa whimpered, remembering the treacherous path she and her friends had endured after snowboarding down the icy slope.

Sephiroth didn't reply. They were standing at the edge of the slope- she could see, looking around his massive shoulder, the steep descent towards the Great Glacier. He started down casually, his footing very sure. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say any more, and there wasn't anything Tifa could do about her current situation, she let her body go limp and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the cold as well as the obvious question of what was going to happen to her.

She must have drifted off, because when she opened her eyes she was lying on her back, and a heavy black trench coat was draped over her body.

She was unbelievably sore. Everything ached. Every part of her. She felt as though somebody had given her a tremendous beating, then stomped on her head to seal the deal.

Tentatively, lest her body give out on her, Tifa sat up and scanned her surroundings. She was sitting on the floor of a small cave. A fire blazed several feet away, throwing off an impressive amount of heat. The ex-SOLDIER Sephiroth was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, watching the flames as they danced. The firelight touched his eyes and made them even brighter- brilliant, swirling green.

"Ughh..." Tifa moaned, stretching her legs out in front of her and wincing as a savage, aching pain seized them. The noise drew Sephiroth out of his reverie, and he looked at her sharply, his gaze cold and calculating.

"So you've finally decided to get up," he said, watching her stretch her limbs. Tifa took a moment to send him a dark glare.

"Why did you save me?" she asked. The fact that he'd rescued her from becoming a scientific experiment deeply disturbed her.

"I don't know," he answered bluntly. His attention shifted back to the fire in front of him, and his expression grew distant.

Tifa watched him for several seconds. She had not expected such a benign reaction. It was unnerving, the fact that he just sat there and paid her little to no attention. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled underneath her and to her embarrassment, she fell on her backside with a thud.

"Oww!"

"Be quiet," Sephiroth said flatly, not even glancing at her. Tifa scowled and shivered; the coat had fallen off of her when she'd tried to stand. Keeping an eye on the ex-SOLDIER in case he decided to kill her, Tifa put the coat on and scooted closer to the fire for warmth. She was quickly becoming aware of just how pitiful she felt- tired, sore, cold...and extremely hungry.

Her stomach felt like it was beginning to gnaw on itself out of desperation. She'd never known such hunger- it was maddening. Her mind turned instantly to food, and for the life of her Tifa could not think about anything else. Never mind the mass murderer sitting across from her, she needed to eat.

Her only option...

"Listen...umm..."

Sephiroth looked up at her, his face expressing mild surprise, as though the last thing he'd expected was for her to actually communicate with him.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice dangerously cold. Tifa shifted nervously.

"I'm sort of...starving," she continued cautiously.

"Thank you for informing me," Sephiroth answered, one corner of his mouth lifting in a derisive sneer. Tifa scowled at the ground and scuffed her foot into the dirt. He obviously didn't give a damn; if anything, he was probably happy to see her so...vulnerable. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"Have you got anything to eat?"

"No," he said curtly, looking back at the fire. Tifa gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Well...I'm a bit laid up at the moment, otherwise I could fend for myself," she mumbled. Hesitating, almost positive that what she was about to say would likely get her decapitated, she added, "Could you...umm...maybe get me something to eat?"

Sephiroth sighed deeply. Tifa jerked her head up and looked at him. He was still staring at the fire, his expression reflecting mild irritation.

"Will you perish if you don't have something to eat immediately?"

She felt her cheeks heat up at his belittling tone, and she longed to snap back at him. But self-preservation won out, and she answered as politely as possible.

"I might, actually."

Sephiroth sighed once more and stood up. Tifa braced herself.

"I didn't think you would be such an inconvenience," he said in a patronizing tone. "Because you're, as you put it, laid up, I will go get you some food. But I warn you, Tifa, I expect to be repaid for this favour." He moved to the cave's entrance, then turned around, his mouth lifting into a smirk. "Don't go anywhere," he added mockingly. Then he left.

Tifa glared after him, her face getting even redder. A moment of blind fury rose up inside her, and if she could have stood up, she might have gone after him and tried to sucker-punch him. Instead she scooted even closer to the fire and gazed into it, her mind racing.

The past twenty-four hours were a haze. From being knocked out at her bar in Edge, to waking up in that lab, to being...well...rescued, by Sephiroth. She felt panic creeping up in her. Had she escaped Hojo's lab just to be slaughtered by Sephiroth? But he had saved her. And he was going to get her something to eat. Surely he wouldn't just kill her, after going through all that trouble. Or maybe he would.

Then again, maybe he was planning on killing her slowly. Or using her to get to Cloud. That seemed more his style. She thought about what Cloud would do if he found out that Sephiroth had her, and knew Cloud would come after him. Maybe not even for her. Just because it was Sephiroth.

And of course, the obvious question. How was Sephiroth alive? And how had Hojo caught the man? For that matter, how was Hojo alive, and what exactly had he been planning on doing to her?

"...his mental illness is unacceptable."

Mental illness. That was putting it lightly. The man was insane. Tifa groaned and put her head in her hands, rubbing her face vigorously in an attempt to clear her mind. It didn't work. There was a dull pounding somewhere behind her left eye that got worse as she pondered the insanity and bleakness of her situation.

She needed a plan. Besides the obvious task of staying alive, she needed to do something. She needed...something.

She realized, as she pondered her situation, that she still had Sephiroth's coat. The heavy black garment dwarfed her small frame and kept her remarkably warm.

Sephiroth had gone out into the freezing cold without a coat. Well, he probably didn't feel the cold as much as she did. All the same, she felt a small twinge of gratitude. But she shook the feeling quickly, telling herself that any comfort he provided her with was negated by the fact that he had put her in this situation.

Sephiroth returned shortly, carrying two snowshoe hares in one hand. He tossed them at her.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" she asked, lifting one up and examining it. It was still warm. Blood oozed slowly from its' throat.

"Not only do you expect me to find you food, but prepare it for you as well?" he asked, his face unreadable.

Tifa shook her head.

"No, I can do it. But I don't have a knife." She watched in alarm as Sephiroth withdrew his sword, but he grasped the end and pointed the handle at her. "What, use your sword?" she asked in disbelief.

His previously passive face turned murderously irritated.

"What else? You've used it before. Or tried to," he added with a sneer. Tifa glowered at him and snatched the sword, turning to the task at hand. She didn't talk to him while she prepared her meagre dinner and ate it, and he promptly went back to ignoring her and staring at the fire as though entranced by the flames.

She felt much better after eating. Fingering the buttons on the trench coat, she glanced at Sephiroth, wanting to say something merely to break the eerie silence in the cave.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked after nearly two hours of listening to the wind blowing outside and the fire crackling in front of her.

Sephiroth looked up at her briefly before returning his gaze to the fire.

"No," he replied shortly.

"Not at all? I mean, you went outside without a coat..."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you might freeze to death if I take mine back," he interrupted sharply. Tifa blinked in surprise. Was he...concerned...about her?

"You..." she started, but he cut her off again.

"You are making that option look very appealing, on the other hand," he snapped impatiently. Tifa sighed and shut her mouth, gazing down at the fire. She was going to have to deal with the quiet, obviously, seeing as how her only companion was a short-tempered mass-murderer.

Another half-hour crept by with incredible sluggishness. Tifa began to fidget with the coat, out of boredom. When she'd explored every pocket and examined every button, she began to run her finger through the dirt, drawing stick-figures there. She drew one with long hair, and one with an enormous sword. Then she erased the head from the long-haired figure with the palm of her hand.

"Very amusing," Sephiroth commented, and she flinched, startled by the noise. He was watching her, his expression indecipherable. Tifa shrugged in what she hoped was an off-hand manner.

"Just a little foretelling," she muttered.

"How interesting," Sephiroth answered, though he didn't sound interested in the slightest. "I wasn't aware you were a fortune-teller."

"Well," Tifa answered, grateful simply for the chance to speak rather than sit in absolute boredom, "it's the most probable outcome." She was surprised to see a flicker of amusement in his eerie mako eyes.

"You're very insightful," he said, "but you cannot draw conclusions when there are so many variables."

Tifa tilted her head, now genuinely intrigued.

"Variables?" she asked, watching him.

"Yes. For example, if you continue to irritate me, I foresee your prediction coming true within the next twenty-four hours." Okay, he'd just threatened to kill her. Sephiroth continued, "If you don't aggravate me too much, well...we'll see. I'm sure I'll find some use for you."

"That's all my life is worth to you, isn't it. Something to use," she said coldly, staring at the ground in front of her rather than look at the man she loathed so completely.

"Don't be upset, Tifa. It's nothing personal. That's all any human's life is worth to me."

She shook her head in disgust.

"It never occurred to you that human life has value?"

Sephiroth didn't answer her. He'd apparently gotten bored with the conversation, and had resumed his endless (and unnerving) observing of the fire.

Tifa sighed. "What time is it?"

No answer.

"Look," she said, her anger getting the best of her, "you can't just ignore me. I mean...what am I supposed to do? What are you going to do with me? Will you at least answer me?" Her voice had risen steadily, until she shouted the last part at him. Instantly she saw that she'd crossed a line. Sephiroth stood up and drew his sword.

She made a desperate attempt to stand, and stumbled away from him. He put his foot on her back and kicked her down to the ground.

"I told you, Tifa. If you don't cooperate, I will kill you," he said calmly. Tifa groaned and crawled away from him, but he reached down and seized her ankle, yanking her back towards him roughly. Then he knelt down, pinning her arms and putting his weight on her. He was heavier than he looked.

She breathed in fluttery, panicked breaths and stared at him, wide-eyed, her heart battering against her ribs. Half-formed thoughts of Cloud, Marlene, Denzel, and her life in general raced through her mind, and the only concrete thought she had was that she didn't want to die yet. She had things to do, stuff she wanted to say to people...

"So," he continued, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

Was he asking for an apology?

"Please," she whispered, her entire body shaking with fear. Sephiroth had the cheek to smile at her.

"So you do have manners."

"I'm sorry," she added, her cheeks flushing with humiliation and rage.

"Hm. It's good to know you can overcome your pride, Tifa. Pride is a weakness for most people," Sephiroth answered lazily, studying her with his bright mako eyes. "Let's remember this little lesson, shall we? Consider it a warning." He almost got up, deliberated for a moment, and then bent his head to whisper in her ear, his hair tickling her nose, "And remember, you owe me a favour. For the dinner I so graciously provided."

He let her up and returned to his spot by the fire. Tifa wanted to scream with outrage. At this rate, she would almost prefer it if he got it over with and killed her. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to endure his company. And the thought of owing him a favour made her shudder.

Finally she crawled back to the edge of the fire and stretched out on her side, cushioning her head on her arm. There was nothing else to do now but sleep. Hopefully she wouldn't be quite so sore tomorrow morning...maybe she could make a break for it.

She tried to drift off, but it was far too cold. She found herself shivering again, despite the coat and the blazing fire. But complaining wouldn't get her anywhere. It would probably provoke his temper...maybe he would kill her if she whined about the cold long enough. That sounded like a reasonable plan. She considered it for a moment, and then decided the stress of her situation was beginning to affect her reasoning skills.

After an undeterminable amount of time, much to Tifa's surprise, Sephiroth spoke.

"Tifa."

She looked up at him warily. "Yes?"

"Are you cold?" His voice itself was icy, indifferent. She decided to go with the truth, because she had a feeling he would know if she lied.

"Yes."

Sephiroth looked at her strangely.

"So fragile," he mused, his eyes thoughtful. Then he patted the ground beside him. "Come here."

"Why?" Tifa asked suspiciously, remembering the favour she apparently owed him.

"Don't argue with me," he said brusquely. "Come here. Sit with me."

She didn't want to go anywhere near him, but she didn't dare defy him either. Cautiously she crawled towards him, still not trusting her aching legs enough to try to walk. He watched her, his eyes unfathomable, as she moved to sit several inches away from him.

"Closer," he prompted. Tifa closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Slowly she inched towards him. Her shoulder brushed up against his arm and she froze, looking away from him, half-expecting him to strike her or cut her head off. Instead he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him firmly.

Tifa's heart jumped into her throat, and she slowly turned her head towards him to meet his eyes. He was looking at the fire once more, his face blank.

"Umm..."

"Warmer?" he asked curtly. Tifa nodded, not daring to speak again. And she was warmer. His body was very warm...it was almost pleasant, being pressed up against him like this. It would have been lovely, if it wasn't for the fact that she was being held by the man who had killed her father, burned her town to cinders, and tried to destroy the planet.

The sudden warmth made her extremely tired. She tried to keep her eyes open, to stay alert in case Sephiroth was up to something (which he probably was, she reasoned), but she found herself drifting off anyway. She fell into a deep slumber, her frail body pressed against the burly ex-SOLDIER.