Wrote this off the top of my head. Post Advent Children and Tifa is still having issues with her own closure. Probably a one shot. Trying to find it within me to start writing chapter 3 of pressure points!
It was in the dead of night after Tifa had closed the bar and drawn the curtains that She visited. Under the cloak of darkness while Edge slept, as the people of Gaia assimilated into a routine of normalcy and the mundane, that she appeared.
She always chose to sit at Tifa's piano.
If Tifa could only focus enough while she's there, she'd play her a song. A song bled from her fingertips, born out of guilt and grief. Gaia knows Aerith deserves as much, for the lengths she went to and the debt she paid on behalf of the planet she once called home.
Her stomach drops every time she walks the hallway; passing the children's room, passing Cloud's closed door. It lurches and churns when the crack of light from the dim light reveals a scattering of petals inside her room; her heart pounds at her throat as she quietly opens her own door, and Aerith is there. She's leaning back on Tifa's piano, elbows propped against the lid and her legs are crossed. She's without her red jacket and her braid is settled on her shoulders. Her expression is faintly amused, like it always was.
Tifa smiles hesitantly, but says nothing. She has a million and one questions for the Cetra. Inside she knows that the woman who used to be a flower girl would probably not grace her with an answer to any of them. Tifa knows her better. For all of her vivacious behaviour, Aerith always kept some secrets.
"I miss you." She speaks softly from her seat, emerald eyes glistening in the light of the Sun that the moon reflects.
Tifa allows her shoulders to slump and sighs. She feels the corners of her eyes burn as tears begin to well, held at her eyelids by the lashes that she peers through to see her best friend. She's surprised she has any tears left, if she's honest. Cloud had mentioned taking Tifa to see her grave, if it would help her transition out of grief and into closure. But she still feels bound.
Aerith straightens, before propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her knuckles as she brings her hands together. Her smile is warm and patient, and every ounce as effervescent as Tifa remembers it.
"Tifa. I didn't come here to talk to myself... I get to do enough of that in the lifestream!"
Tifa cracks a smile and Aerith winks knowingly at her. She doesn't have to say any more to compel Tifa to talk. She never had to. She's like Tifa's own truth serum; she would have made a lot of money if she'd pursued psychology and a career as a therapist, Tifa muses to herself.
"I miss you...a lot. It hurts. Not having you here. I thought that maybe when we saw you and Zack at your church...that you might be coming back. I guess I am a fool for thinking that..."
"Tifa Lockhart, you're many things but not a fool. I remember you saying those words to me once, too." Her words fall from her lips like lies never could. But Aerith never speaks a word that isn't genuine and that fact coils around Tifa's heart and tightens like a vice grip which reminds her once more that she didn't deserve the fate she received. It's painful and Tifa's crying again.
"Oh my Shiva... I've lost my way with you! My goddesses I feel like I'm some jerk of an unworthy boyfriend that keeps putting his foot in his mouth!" Aerith mutters, and chuckles lightly.
Tifa wipes her eyes on the back of her hand and feebly attempts to compose herself, "How does that foot taste anyway?" Tifa jokes. She hasn't stitched the hole in her heart but it's a band aid at the least. A cure all would be to tell Aerith how she really feels about her. She can't bring herself to do that. Not yet. She doesn't want Aerith to stop visiting her. That would kill her.
"Oh you know. Like dirt." Aerith raises her brow and pulls her lips together in a bemused smile. "I have a burning question for you tonight, Teef."
"...Oh whats that?" Tifa feels her heart thud wildly against her ribcage once more and heat rise to her cheeks. She'll never be able to look her best friend in the eye if it so happens that she learned to read minds after death.
"I honestly had no idea what I was watching, a while ago. You are capable of so, so much more..." Aerith's eyes transitioned from Tifa's, to the ringlet that she now toyed with between her fingertips.
Tifa felt a blush from her chest upward...where was she going with this conversation?
"…I can't be the only one who wonders why you got into a slap fight with Scarlet."
"Wait...what?" Tifa finds herself dumbfounded. That's Aerith's burning question? "She tried to gas me, Aerith... I was exhausted from trying to hold my breath and escape!"
"Dilly dally shilly shally...I watched you first hand piledrive dragons on endless sleepless nights and you got into a slap fight with her? Psssh. I expected better!" Aerith purses her lips and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Tifa's eyes are locked on her lip bite and her heart swoops, leaving her feeling a surging warmth at her core.
Aerith crinkles her nose and her dimples appear as she giggles, as if watching Tifa become flustered is a favourite past time of her own, "You could have still broken her nose and thrown her off the cannon, just saying!"
"I can barely believe I'm hearing you say that! Since when did you become an advocate for violence lady?!" Tifa scoffs, glad that she's off the hook. For now.
Aerith shakes her head lightly, smiling and stands; gesturing Tifa toward the bathroom. Tifa obliges, gently padding toward the flickering candle light and a bath full of hot water and bubbles. "You've had a long day, I think you deserve to relax...don't you?"
Tifa struggles to find words again, and the warmth in her abdomen is quickly replaced by the growing pit in her stomach. She doesn't deserve anything. Not a bath, not Aerith as a friend... let alone as a lover if it came to pass that Aerith really did reciprocate her feelings.
"Thank you."
Aerith's eyes skim quickly down her body with a small smile, she feels them, before she straightens her dress and sits down once more.
Tifa doesn't lock the door behind her in spite of herself. It's unlikely the kids would interrupt her this late. Quietly she wishes Aerith would take the hint follow her and join her. She knows this is just as unlikely. Aerith doesn't take hints. She takes a vernacular two by four in the form of honest to goodness truth spoken out loud; though Tifa doubts that she is oblivious to hints, no. It's more likely a power play and Aerith would much rather hear Tifa voice her desires so she can play with her like a cat does with wool. It's another one of her quirks that Tifa adores so much.
She doesn't take too long in the tub. She dries herself quickly with her towel and pulls her sleep shirt over her head, darting across the hallway. She hopes she can bring herself to lighten up her end of the conversation.
But Aerith isn't there when she returns to her room. Her bedsheets are pulled back, curtains are closed and there's a glass of drinking water at her bedside table with a single Gardenia flower on her pillow.
Tifa leaves the bar early the next morning, eager to find a book to tell her what these different flowers mean when Aerith leaves them at Seventh Heaven for her to find.