We've had a bit of confusion going around as to the status of this story.
The last chapter seemed to have everyone think that it was done; I can understand that assumption, because it certainly sounds like that. This is me saying, "Don't go! It ain't over yet!"
Anyway, this one was inspired by Mozart's Cantata 147. I was listening to it today when this plot bunny mauled me (funny how they work. When I am not preparing to leave on vacation they rebel, but when I am desperately trying to pack they maul me like rabid dogs).
This one occurs during DOOM (not too long after "Meeting" and "I Fell Down The Stairs"), and it's slightly inspired from one of LuckyLadybug's stories. After this please visit my profile. I need you to vote on a poll—again :D
Raphael stared tentatively at the instrument.
He had been in the main ballroom of the Paradius Corporation building, checking up on decorating plans for an evening party that would be occurring that evening; Raphael himself was not attending the event, and neither were his comrades. Master Dartz would be here later in the evening to accommodate his guests, and the Atlantean wanted the blonde to make certain preparations were ready.
He'd been nearly finished when he saw the piano in the corner of the spacious ballroom.
The effect was magnetic.
Irresistibly he had made his way across the room to the instrument, his eyes never really leaving the black piece of furniture as he weaved his way through the tables and chairs. He arrived at his destination and then simply stood there, unsure of why he was over here or what he was planning to do now; actually, the blonde man felt foolish that he had come over here for no apparent reason.
Raphael sighed, carefully sitting down on the bench and staring at the ivory colored keys with his blue eyes, wondering if he could actually play something even though he hadn't touched the instrument before him in years.
The isolation on the island had almost completely driven that knowledge away; piano playing wasn't exactly beneficial for survival if you were trapped on an island for three years. As a result, most of his memories that involved the piano were so far back that he could only remember his hands (so much smaller than they were now) gliding effortlessly across the piano keys.
Raphael shook his head, heaving a sigh as he rose to his feet. It was silly to think about playing the piano now; he still had work to do and he could not play the instrument with so much work left to do. But as he rose to his feet he inadvertently lost his balance, and he placed a hand on the edge of the keyboard to steady himself. One of his hands brushed a few of the ivory keys, resulting in a jarring, plinking sound.
Raphael jumped in surprise, looking down at where his hand rested. He lifted his hand to look down at the keyboard, and he found himself automatically beginning to identify the notes and remembering the basics of how to play the piano.
He caught himself at it, though, and he shook his head ruefully. He was not going to indulge himself in a childhood memory. He had things that he needed to do—Raphael had no time whatsoever to slack off. With that thought in mind he turned and resolutely left the room.
Within seconds, however, he found himself in front of the piano once again.
Raphael glanced around at his surroundings, making certain that no one was coming or had come into the room before he sat down on the bench once again and made himself comfortable. He looked down at the ivory keys and he mentally began to review the keys in front of him, identifying each one.
He glanced around at his surroundings once again. Maybe…maybe he would play the instrument. Just for a bit, until someone came in; it wasn't as if he had anything overly pressing to do. Sure, he had to make certain that all the preparations were complete, but didn't that include making sure that the piano was in tune?
It was like riding a bicycle (or a motorcycle, in his case)—one truly couldn't forget how to play the piano. Raphael played it so much as a child; this should be instinctive by now, shouldn't it? Maybe he did know how to play…Raphael could at least try, since no one was there in the room with him. No one would hear him mess up in here; he was free to make as many mistakes as he wanted.
Raphael took a minute to decide which of the few pieces that he actually remembered learning before he took a deep breath and began to play.
At first, the notes were slow and hesitant, and his hands clumsily moved across the keyboard. Mistakes were frequent, and he was certain that if he had an audience they would be cringing at how many mistakes were audible.
But he didn't stop because of the errors, and Raphael kept playing persistently. The more he tried, the more the memories came back to him; he wasn't about to give up now, not when he was so close to remembering.
Gradually, the mistakes made became fewer in number until they no longer existed. The music issuing from the piano filled the room with a smoothness that hadn't been there minutes before, and Raphael found that he was no longer sitting in an empty corporate ballroom.
Instead, he was an eleven year old boy who was at home with his family and they were watching him with warm smiles as he played the instrument. Sonia and Julien were sitting next to him on the piano bench, watching him with wonder and delight as he came toward the end of the piece. When he finished playing, though, the vision vanished as abruptly as it had come. The warm feeling vanished and Raphael sighed tiredly, looking at the ivory keys beneath his fingers.
"I didn't know you could play the piano."
The voice startled Raphael, and he looked over his shoulder sharply.
Alister was watching him emotionlessly from one of the table's seats, gray orbs unreadable. "I didn't strike you for the piano playing type," he continued, and Raphael heard the faintly impressed note beneath the sentence.
The older blonde was surprised. This was the first time Alister had actually said more than a simple hello to him, and he was a bit surprised. He recovered, though, and rose to his feet. "I used to," replied Raphael gruffly, rising from the piano bench and moving around it to walk to Alister. "I haven't played a piano in years. It probably sounded awful."
The redhead shrugged. "The piano's in tune, at any rate."
Before Raphael could reply, Alister had risen to his feet and was speaking. "I was sent by Gurimo to find you. He claims that Valon will be a selfish pig and start munching on the buffet unless you regain control over him."
Raphael raised an eyebrow at the red-haired man's distasteful expression. "I take it you don't like Gurimo," he said wryly.
"Do you?" the other man replied challengingly.
"…I'd prefer not to answer that."
Alister seemed to almost smile at the reply, but Raphael couldn't truly tell since the other man was good at keeping his face straight. The blonde stepped past Alister to head out into the hallway, but then Alister's voice made him pause.
"It wasn't half bad, you know."
Confused, the older man turned back to face the redhead. "What wasn't?" he asked, watching Alister catch up to him.
"What you were playing on the piano. For someone who hasn't played it in a while, it wasn't half bad."
Alister brushed past him at that point, ending the conversation. Raphael hesitated for a moment longer, looking back into the expansive ballroom and at the piano before following after his companion. Gurimo wasn't going to be able to hold Valon back for long, and Raphael was certain he'd have a hard time explaining to Dartz why the teenager had ended up dead.
He stared at the piano for one final minute before he shook his head and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Those days were over and done with; he needed to focus on what he was doing now, instead of getting caught up in faded memories.
…It wasn't too long after that thought had passed when Raphael decided he would come back after the party was over.
