A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed: Kisdota-The Freak Gamer, Calenlass Greenleaf, Stryper, Amos Whirly, Creative Spark, scienceguy, Drink. Juice, pockybandits89, Asterxia Sy, NailoSyanodel, KCVII, 1080, vx-Luna-xv, and P.P.V.V
The subject of this one-shot is written quite a lot by many authors who write Tifa, and I never had and I wanted to try my own take on it. The inspiration for this came from listening to CalikoKat's piano rendition of the song "Falling Slowly" on youtube. It set the mood for what I wrote.
Tragedy
"Tifa!" Denzel called from downstairs. "There's someone at the door!"
Tifa set the laundry basket full of clean clothes down beside Cloud's dresser and went downstairs. Denzel was standing in front of the open front door, while Marlene perched on a barstool, peering curiously at their visitor.
"Thank you, Denzel." Tifa took his place at the door and looked at the man with the clipboard standing there. "Can I help you? We open in an hour--"
"I got your piano here." The man jabbed his thumb over his shoulder toward a truck parked outside. Sure enough, there was a piano in the truck bed. A second man was untying the ropes holding it in place.
Tifa shook her head. "I think you must have the wrong place."
The man looked down at his clipboard. "Seventh Heaven?"
"Yes, but--"
"Cloud Strife live here?"
Tifa closed her mouth. After a long pause, she said, "Yes."
"Then this is the right place. Sign here, please." The man thrust the clipboard and a pen at her.
"I can't--" Tifa looked at the piano, and something hard and uncomfortable clenched her stomach. "Where am I supposed to put it?"
"Wherever you want. I'm a delivery guy, not a decorator."
Marlene and Denzel had come up behind Tifa and were peeking around her at the truck. "We could put it in the living room," Marlene said helpfully. "There's enough room in there."
Tifa pressed her lips together, staring at Cloud's name and address written on the delivery slip. Where had he gotten a piano? Why?
"Lady, it's just a signature," the delivery man said impatiently.
Tifa blinked and hurriedly signed her name. The man took the clipboard and went to help with the piano.
Ten minutes later, the truck was driving off and there was a piano in Tifa's living room. She stared at it, the knot in her stomach tightening more painfully. It was on old piano, the wood faded, some of the keys chipped. But as Marlene excitedly started pressing keys from one end to the other, Tifa knew it had been kept in good musical shape, wherever it had come from. It was in tune and each note resonated clearly through the room.
"This is so neat!" Marlene exclaimed. "I wonder why Cloud got a piano?"
"Maybe he wants to play it?" Denzel said, but he sounded dubious. "Does Cloud play piano, Tifa?"
"No." I do. I…did. I…
Marlene looked at Tifa, about to ask something, but then she stopped and frowned. "Tifa? Is something wrong?"
Tifa realized she was staring intently at the piano with her forehead scrunched in a frown. She tore her eyes away from it and smiled at Marlene. "I'm fine." Her voice sounded forced even to herself. "Why don't we go get some lunch?"
Tifa got busy with making the kids' food, finishing putting away the clean laundry, and opening the bar, but even that didn't take her mind off the new piece of furniture now occupying her living room. She heard it, too, when the kids played with it as she was working, plunking random keys in no particular order. She didn't understand why it was making her so tense, why the thought of a piano in the house was shadowing her mind, why the sound of it was agitating her enough that she finally turned on the radio to block it out.
Or maybe somewhere deep down, she did understand and just didn't want to really think about it.
The kids went to bed at nine, Tifa closed the bar at ten, and she was soaking in a hot bath when Cloud came home at eleven. She heard Fenrir, and then sounds of the door downstairs opening and his footsteps on the stairs. When she got out of the tub and tugged on her pajamas, she found Cloud in his office, preparing things for the next day's deliveries. He looked up from his work when she stopped in the doorway, the corners of his mouth curving into a small smile. "Hey."
"Hi." Tifa leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded tightly. "Cloud? Why did some guys show up with a piano today?"
Cloud paused. "It's here? It wasn't supposed to be delivered until Thursday."
"Well, they were early. You didn't tell me you bought a piano."
"I didn't." Cloud set his pen down and turned on his chair to face her completely. There was a puzzled look in his eyes as he studied her. "One of my customers was getting rid of it. It was her husband's, and he just died. She was going to throw it out. I told her I'd take it. I thought--"
"That I would want to play it?" Tifa's voice came out strained.
Cloud's expression grew more perplexed. He looked at her silently, and she turned away from his office door.
"Tifa." He was out of his chair and beside her, grasping her elbow and turning her toward him before she'd made it away from the office.
Tifa sighed. "I haven't really played a piano except maybe once or twice since I lived in Nibelheim, Cloud. I haven't even touched one in years."
"I know." Cloud was still searching her face as if he could find an answer to a mystery there. "You're upset."
"I'm not."
"Tifa."
She clenched her jaw and gently tugged her arm out of his grasp. "The kids were really excited about it."
"I was going to tell you before it came."
Tifa nodded, feeling guilty about her complete lack of enthusiasm. She managed a smile and hugged him. "I know. It's…it's a great piano, Cloud. It's good that it didn't get thrown away." She drew back from him and kept the smile on her face until she had turned completely away. She felt Cloud's gaze following her as she headed away from his office. She went into her room and flopped into bed, her remorse poking her sharply. What was wrong with her? He hadn't done anything wrong and she had practically jumped down his throat.
She was still wide awake when Cloud left his office and went to take a shower. Her thoughts were stuck firmly on the piano. This was ridiculous. It was just an instrument. An instrument that she had played, that she had loved playing. It shouldn't be causing her such frustration.
The house was silent when she finally crept downstairs into the living room. She was not going to let this get to her or make her testy with Cloud again. What would it say about her if she could face monsters, Remnants, and Sephiroth, but not a piano?
Tifa's feet took her over to the piano almost of their own accord. She ran a hand over the top of it, calloused fingers on smooth wood. She slowly sat on the bench and stared at the piano, pressing a hand to her aching stomach. It shouldn't hurt to look at it. It shouldn't hurt.
Her right hand hovered over the keys, and she gently pressed the C with her thumb. The single note rang out in the silence, an echo of the distant past. Tifa's breath stuck in her throat, and the ache deepened and spread through her. She brought her left hand up to join the right one, fingers slowly pressing keys. It was like finding a long-lost friend, one that had kept her company during long days and lonely nights. The chords and notes flooded into her mind as if it had merely been days and not years since she had sat like this. She had spent so many hours carefully practicing her playing, committing songs to memory.
She played the first few notes of a song that she had once played constantly. Even after she had started training with Zangan, even after she spent most of her time roaming and learning the mountain paths, she had always found time to play. Her father had never wanted her wandering Mt. Nibel; they'd had such a big fight about it. He had been a good man, her father. Sometimes hot-headed and overprotective, but he had always tried to do what he thought best.
Her father had always loved listening to her play. He had said it always made him feel a little more alive. She had understood the sentiment exactly.
She hit the wrong key and corrected herself. The song picked up, her fingers moving more quickly, more assured. Her father's laughter danced through her memory, and she could see the faces of the townsfolk she had grown up among as clearly as if she had just opened her front door in Nibelheim. She could picture Cloud's mother watering her flowers next door. His mother had been so lonely after he left, and had one day invited Tifa over for coffee and cake. Tifa had soon become a regular visitor, and had Mrs. Strife to thank for her love of coffee and a lot of her knowledge about cooking.
Tifa slammed her hands down flat on the keys. The sound jangled harshly in her ears. It was only then that she realized her shoulders were shaking. She leaned her forehead on her hands, still holding random keys in place, as the jarring sound slowly faded into silence.
Arms wrapped around her from behind. She wasn't surprised when Cloud sat down on the bench beside her, without letting go of her. Tifa didn't look at him; she kept her head on her hands and bit her lip in an effort to still her trembling. There was dampness on the backs of her hands and she was almost ashamed of the tears.
Cloud smoothed her hair back, his hand grazing her cheek. She felt him stiffen as he discovered her tears, and he lifted her chin, turning her face toward his. She met his worried eyes. He had his mother's eyes, so very bright blue, always so expressive. She tried for a smile, but to her dismay, her face crumpled and more tears trickled down her cheeks. She finally lifted her hands from the piano to press them over her face.
"Tifa."
She shook her head at his concern, wiping the tears away. She didn't need consolation or sympathy. She so rarely cried; why should this set her off?
Tifa didn't mean to speak, but Cloud was still holding her and watching her and the words just came out. "I wrote your mother a song once."
Surprise flickered across his face. "You did?"
Tifa nodded. "Your mother told me that you had loved to stand outside and listen to me play piano, even if you didn't think she knew. She said she understood, because she liked listening to it, too. She said sometimes after you left, she would sit outside and listen to me play. So I wrote her a song for her birthday." She stopped and took a deep breath. At least her tears had stopped. "Two weeks later, Nibelheim was gone. She was gone, and Papa, and everyone…" She looked at Cloud bleakly. She wasn't sure how to explain the rest; it was all muddled inside of her. She didn't know how to explain what it had been like when they had returned to Nibelheim years ago to find the town rebuilt and occupied by strangers. To find her own house, which had at least been partially burned in Sephiroth's rampage, rebuilt and complete. There had been things that were off about it, furniture that was different, the wrong pictures on the walls. But her bedroom had been eerily similar, with the bed and the piano…the piano…
She had known that it wasn't her house anymore, or her bed, or her piano, but there had been a part of her in that instant that had somehow expected her sheet music would be there. There had been music, and she had found a note from Zangan in it, but it hadn't been her music. Not the pieces she had carefully written out over the years, not the ones she had collected. It had been the final stamp on the tragedy that had destroyed her home, family, and childhood.
She hadn't touched a piano since then.
"It hurts." Tifa finally returned Cloud's embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. "It shouldn't hurt like this. It's been so long. Every time I think I'll be fine the next time I come across something that reminds me of Nibelheim, it just…hurts."
Cloud's hold on her tightened. "I know." He kissed her temple. "We don't have to keep it, Tifa. If it upsets you this much--"
"No," she cut him off. "It's...I'll be okay. I just needed to understand." She leaned backwards, shifting in his arms and freeing one hand to tentatively rest on the piano keys. She hesitated, then turned completely so she could use both hands. With Cloud's arms still encircling her, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder, she started playing her song again. It still hurt, but the knot inside of her had loosened a little, and there was beauty mixed in with the pain. Sometimes it took the pain to bring the healing, to allow her to remember her father's laughter in the face of remembering his death. To allow her to hear the cheerful greetings of the villagers in the face of remembering the chaos and panic on the night they had all died.
Tifa leaned her head against Cloud's as her fingers moved along the keys, filling the room with music. As long as she had arms to hold her and remind her that she wasn't the only one who remembered the tragedies, then she would also have someone to share the beauty.
