Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters belong to Square Enix and many others. Sadly, I'm not one of them.

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Private Translations
By Lady Calliope

He'd found it at a scrap shop near North Corel. Of course, when he'd bought it the thing couldn't even close properly, let alone play anything. But he wasn't called a genius with machines for nothing. It took weeks to figure out exactly how the ancient equipment functioned but once he did the old parts didn't stand a chance. However, now he faced a bit of a dilemma.

What did he do with it?

Sometimes things, especially old mechanical things, caught his eye and before he could question the logic of it he'd have a brand new piece of junk to add to his collection. The desire to find out how and why machines and engines and clockwork pieces worked the way they did haunted him, captured him. As a kid he'd spend hours just staring at old plane engines in the junkyard, tracing their fuel and electrical paths in his mind until he'd deciphered their inner workings.

And now he had a refurbished cassette player and no idea what to do with it. He'd finally found a cassette tape at an antique shop in Midgar: a man singing ballads and folks songs in a language he didn't know. The voice was graveled, deep, and calm in such a way that Cid didn't really care to understand the words—the feeling he got from just listening was enough. But, much as he enjoyed it, he didn't have a lot of time for music between keeping his ship in order, flying around the continents, and saving the world.

They'd been walking to the airship when he'd overheard something that gave him an idea. Tifa usually sat in the co-pilot's chair while he flew, talking about whatever came to mind—sometimes she slept. That day they lifted off and sure enough she plunked down in the worn leather seat. As soon as he'd set the course for Cosmo Canyon, though, he excused himself and left the bridge, heading towards his bunk. He pulled out the cassette player and stared at it for a few moments, contemplating his options. He didn't have any wrapping paper so he ended up just stuffing it in one of the brown paper bags that used to contain a pack of cigarettes.

She turned as his footfall signaled his reappearance on the bridge. "Where'd you disappear to?"

"Hn." He pulled the package from behind his back. "Happy Birthday."

Her eyes widened to a degree he didn't think was possible. "But…how'd you know?"

"You women talk a lot louder than you think you do."

With a soft smile she took the present and unfolded the top. The shock returned to her face when she withdrew the contents. "Where did you get this? I haven't seen one of these since I was little. Does it work?"

"Why don't you stop askin' so many damn questions and just try the stupid thing?"

Slowly she placed the headphones over her ears and hit "play." He could tell the moment the music started when her eyes slid closed seemingly of their own will and a quiet smile came to her face. "This is beautiful."

"I don't know what the hell he's sayin' but you're always listening to the radio when we're in range so…" He was not prone to babbling but something in the upturn of her lips forced the focus from his mind.

"Don't need to understand it, it's still beautiful. I can make up my own words." Her eyes opened bit by bit, as if she was coming out of a trance. "Thank you, Cid. I don't know how else to say it." That full kilowatt smile of hers beamed up at him: he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was not prone to blushing, either. At least, he didn't used to be. But what hot-blooded male wouldn't get a little flustered at having that face, those eyes, directed exclusively at him?

"It's just a damn tape player, don't have to make a fuss." He turned back to the steering column to get himself in check.

"All the same. Thanks, Cid." She turned back to gaze out the viewing window, losing herself in the sounds of a music forgotten and tapping the rhythm on her knee.

Though he would deny everything if asked, he let her smile taint his own for the rest of the flight.

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