Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII. In fact, I don't own any part of the Final Fantasy series. I don't even have a doll of any of the characters…do they even sell those in America? Either way, I don't own one.

Note: My computer's a mentally challenged chicken. Blame slow/bad updates on that. If you spot any typos, please point them out so I can fix them. (Just don't center an entire review on just typos.)

Second Note: Much thanks to all of my great reviewers! Don't worry, this fic still has a few chapters to be squeezed in. I know that the very last chapter will be an epilogue chapter…I want to at least have twenty chapters though.

Third Note: Eh, the Sephiroth-Tifa Incident seems to have a bigger role in this story than I thought it would when I first typed it. I hope none of you mind. Also, there's fluff in this chapter! After reading the fluff in previous chapters I'm sure none of you will mind, as long as I keep this fic lemon-free. (Which I will, don't you worry…)

Chapter 17: Fear, Nostalgia and Love

A soft rain started up outside, gradually splattering the cold window of the room with rain. Tifa sighed, remembering the night that began her status as Vincent's captive. It had been raining then, and she remembered feeling the icy coolness of the rain through the closed window. The steady, light rhythmic beat of this particular rain was not as heavy, nor as loud, as the one that had occurred that night, but it still reminded her of that rain.

"Vincent, hurry up and get back," the cinnamon-eyed woman sighed, lying flat on her back on top of the beautifully patterned bright red top quilt of the bed. This was the exact same room that she and Sephiroth had been in all of those years ago, she was sure of it.

The walls were cream-colored, unlike the bright white walls of the rest of the inn's many rooms. Also, there was only one bed, while every other room had two or three small beds. The one she was lying in at the time was a large king-sized one. The scar in the oak wood flooring, she knew, was from when the silver-haired man tossed the Masamune aside, having no need for the long sword for what he was going to do…

Mentally, Tifa shook herself. Don't be so scared. He didn't actually sleep with you. You know that!

She hated this room. Memories of that night kept flooding back to her. She could feel herself shaking—for a minute, she swore he was in the room, giving her the same lustful look he had given her five years ago.

A long, shaky sigh escaped her lips. Truth be told, she was still a virgin just because her father just so happened to be coming down the hallway at that point to check up on her…

"Papa…" she murmured, suddenly missing him just as much as she did the night she saw him killed.

She bit her lip to fight back a scream when a warm hand suddenly rested its palm on her forehead. Sitting bolt upright, she looked, panicked, at the person the hand belonged to, and let out a small sigh of relief.

It was Vincent.

"Are you alright, Tifa…? You were pale, shaking, and sweating. Your eyes were wide and you were staring at one spot in the ceiling. For a moment I was worried you were having some sort of internal attack…" Vincent said softly, sitting next to the woman.

"…This is the same room Sephiroth was in five years ago…" she said reluctantly, her lips barely moving as she spoke, making her words barely understandable.

"I'm assuming that you have bad memories of this room, then," the man murmured, gently brushing loose strands of Tifa's dark hair out of her wine red eyes.

Tifa nodded once, leaning into Vincent's comforting warmth, allowing him to wrap his natural arm around her.

"Oh, before I forget. Do you still have a craving for pickles?" the expert gunman asked.

Tifa almost laughed. She'd forgotten about her pickle craving, truth be told, but she nodded any way.

The man didn't want to lose his embrace on the woman but let go of her anyway, standing up to grab the brown paper bag of food he'd bought. He pulled out a small jar of small pickles and handed it to her.

"…You can have them all. I was never too fond of pickles," he said as she unscrewed the bronze colored lid.

"Thanks, Vincent," the martial artist giggled.

"No problem. But by the way you were craving pickles, one might think you were pregnant…"

Tifa could detect the slight worry that was badly masked in the tone of voice he was using. "I'm not," she assured him after swallowing the several small pickles she had stuffed into her mouth. "I'm a virgin. Virgins can't be pregnant."

"I know. I just worry about you sometimes."

"Why are you worried about me being pregnant? The only way I'd become pregnant is if you had sex with me, and unless there's something you're keeping from me, Vincent Valentine, we've never done that," she said, raising one eyebrow.

Vincent kissed the top of her head. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

"I'm glad…"

There was a long silence as Tifa finished her pickles and Vincent slowly consumed some of the other food-type items he had purchased. The dark-haired woman didn't like the silence. Memories of the room she didn't want to have kept flooding back to her.

Walking across the room to throw away the empty jar of mutilated (yet delicious) cucumbers known as pickles, she shook her head. She really shouldn't be afraid. That had happened years ago.

"I'm going to brush my teeth to get the pickle smell off of my breath," she muttered to her captive, who nodded.

"I'll be in here," he said evenly as Tifa dug her toothbrush out of her bag of belongings.

Once inside the relatively medium-sized bathroom, her hand moved towards where the toothpaste (courtesy of the staff of the Nibelheim Inn) was lying on the marble counter. Then, her cinnamon paused on a small bottle of a certain hair-care product.

"This is the same type of hair gel Cloud uses," she observed, picking the small squeeze bottle of greenish hair gel up to get a better look at it. Opening the cap, she sniffed it, and suddenly felt nostalgic. It smelled like Cloud after he did his hair.

"…Cloud…" she muttered. She knew he must be extremely worried about her by now—she'd been captive for over one week. Then Tifa remembered that she'd come in here to brush her teeth, and did so, though it didn't make her stop missing her spiky-haired friend.

"That took a bit long," Vincent observed as he watched his captive exit the bathroom and come towards the bed, where he was seated.

"There was a bottle of hair gel in there. It was the same type of hair gel that Cloud used. It even smelled like Cloud so it made me miss him…more than a little…" she admitted, sitting next to the gunman.

"I don't want to let you go, Tifa, but I can assure you that you will regain your freedom sooner than you may think," Vincent said in a comforting tone of voice, despite the fact that his demons were screaming at him not to tell her that.

The wine-eyed woman gave the man a small smile and edged closer to him. In response to this action, Vincent slid his natural arm around her waist, pulling her into his warmth (though she didn't make any signs of being cold).

"…Would kissing you right now be a bad thing to do?" he asked, somewhat timidly.

"No. If you wish to, go ahead," Tifa replied, her cheeks becoming scarlet as she said that.

"Are you sure…? I mean, it will not bring back bad memories…?"

"As long as you don't yank off my shirt, I won't be afraid," Tifa assured him, moving gently onto Vincent's lap.

"Well then."

Without further hesitation, Vincent closed his lips over Tifa's, and they gently nibbled on each other's lips for a moment before the gunman deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue skillfully into his partner's mouth. Tifa let out a quiet moan as he did so, and threaded her fingers through Vincent's hair. He slanted his head forward slightly and began thrusting his tongue into her mouth again and again, stroking hers gently every time.

This resulted in a slightly louder moan from Tifa and she moved one arm around his neck and slid her other hand to one spot on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

A low groan escaped Vincent and he pulled the woman so that they were both lying on their sides. He allowed the kiss to continue for a couple of minutes and then, though neither of them wanted to stop, he pulled away to prevent this from going dangerously far.

"I love you, Vincent," Tifa whispered, her gaze locking with his as she pulled her arm away from the back of his head to rest on his chest.

"I love you too, Tifa."

"Okay, the engine's ready for take-off! So, Cloud, we're dropping you off at yer damn destination first, right?" Cid bellowed.

"Right. Nibelheim," the spiky-haired young man replied, nodding once.

"Okay then! Take off, bitch!" grumpy old Cid shouted at the pilot that was driving at the time. She cringed at being called a "bitch" but took off nonetheless.

Once the Highwind landed at Nibelheim, Cloud departed the airship and entered the town he was born in.

"Let's see…three places I should definitely check are Tifa's old house, the mansion, and probably the inn as well…" he said, pondering over which place to check first.

Finally, he decided.

He was going to check the inn.

Yumesuta: Not much of a cliffhanger…looks like Vincent and Tifa are gonna have their moment broken! What will happen? If I get enough reviews, I'll update and you'll find out. So…REVIEW! Please!