Discovery
By: Illusion of the Mirror
The darkness is close, pressing, muffling sound. Tifa's palms find barriers on all sides and panic drives a spike into her chest as she gasps under the weight of the gloom. There. A thread of light down by her toes. Her fingernails scrape against wood; shallow breaths echo in the tight space. The armoire. She's in her bedroom armoire. And someone is outside.
Tears borne of fear threaten to brim over as all her muscles instantly seize. She must not make a sound, but despite her concentration, her heartbeat thuds in her ears and she cannot hear the intruder. Shadow passes over the line of light beneath the doors and she knows he's just on the other side: this unknown pursuer who has plagued her for so long. If she stays, he will find her.
The thin beam cuts back into her dark prison. It's time. She springs out of the armoire and into the room, slamming into something solid and somehow she knows it's him. But she doesn't stop to see if he's fallen, sprinting down the hall like a woman possessed, taking the entirety of the stairs in one leap. She can hear his thumping footfalls behind her as she skids into the kitchen and in her mad dash for the door, takes precious milliseconds to topple a chair into his path.
And then she's outside, tearing through the open yard and plunging into the darkness of the woods. He follows, crashing through the undergrowth with a curse. His voice is a terrible, rasping absence of sound and dread clouds the perimeter of her vision. She hurtles a fallen oak and lands hard and awkward, biting her lip until she tastes blood. He is coming, gaining despite her all her efforts.
Her lungs ache, her chest burns, her muscles pull and twist beneath her skin. Every step is raw, searing pain, like some unseen fire is consuming her alive. Tears sting her eyes and blur her sight, burning their way down her cheeks. She doesn't see the root. She never does. By the time she remembers to look for it she's already careening to the forest floor.
Pine needles bite into her palms and she squeezes her eyes shut. Wake up. It's a nightmare. Wake up, dammit! But she hears his grating, hollow laughter, feels cold flames licking up her shins. She flips over, eyes wide, blood freezing in her veins, and she sees him: a slash of sucking darkness against the night sky, drawing the very life from her. She screams but no sound comes.
- O -
And then suddenly, Tifa was awake, eyes snapping open to reveal her own room bathed in the mid-morning light which spilled through the curtains and splashed across her bedspread. Light. Light was good. It meant safety. It meant warmth. And best of all, it meant that the storm had finally passed.
Tifa muttered a curse to herself as she uncoiled the sweaty sheets that clung to her legs. They'll have to be washed again,she thought as she began to ball up the bedclothes with a sigh. These night terrors are sure doing a number on my water bill.
She was just crossing to her bathroom for a much needed shower when a heavy thud resounded against the ceiling above her, followed by a short yelp and a series of scraping noises, like boot-heels sliding along the gritty floor of the attic.
Murmured voices filtered down and then a clear, "Stop it! You're making it worse Yuffie!"
Okay. Shower can wait. Throwing on her robe, Tifa hurried out of her bedroom and, just as expected, spotted the attic door open and ladder down. The voices were louder now and as Tifa passed by, the door to the guest room swung inward.
"What the hell is all that racket?" The pilot's hair was plastered flat against one side of his head and sticking straight up in the back.
"Morning, Cid," Tifa chirped with a smile, noting with amusement that he was missing a sock. "Just some harmless shenanigans, I'm sure. No worries."
"Hrmm," was all the reply she received before the door closed once more.
Tifa reached the bottom of the ladder just in time to see a face pop over the railing at the top. "Okay. So don't get mad, but Denzel may have busted your wardrobe."
The aforementioned boy pushed past the ninja and began to descend the ladder in a huff. "It was your fault, Yuffie! If you hadn't pushed me none of this would have happened." Tifa stepped to the side so he could pass.
"Good morning, honey. You okay?"
"Great. Just great, thanks," he answered without making eye contact.
Tifa glanced up at Yuffie for some sort of clue as to what had upset him, but the younger brunette only shook her head. By the time she turned back to Denzel, he had already gone into his old room and shut the door soundly behind him.
"I didn't do anything," Yuffie began in a soft voice as Marlene sidled up to join her in leaning over the railing. "I don't get why he's like this."
Tifa raised her hands in acquiescence before starting up the ladder. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the closed door before breaching the ceiling. Once at the top, she began herding the two girls further into the attic. Now that the piles of junk had been cleared away from the windows, enough light was filtering though to illuminate the bulk of the room, though someone had turned on the overhead light all the same, its dim wattage melting uselessly into the slanting sunbeams.
"Alright," Tifa began once she felt they were out of earshot. "So what happened?"
Yuffie opened her mouth to reply, but Marlene held up a silencing finger. "I wanna tell her."
The young ninja relinquished story-telling rights with a flick of the wrist. "By all means."
"Okay. When Yuffie and me woke up you were still sleeping so we got up and I wanted to go see the attic because you had said last night that you and Mr. Vincent cleaned it." Marlene took hold of Tifa's hand and started leading her toward the far wall where the oversized ebony armoire loomed menacingly. Or maybe that was just her imagination.
"Denzel was downstairs and at first he told me it was a lame idea but he came anyway." A sad look crossed the girl's face then and Tifa felt a twist in her gut.
"So did you find anything cool?" she asked as the three of them came to a stop.
"Well, we found a bunch of jars of raindrops," Yuffie offered before kneeling down to drag a pair of fallen boxes out from in front of the wardrobe.
Marlene brightened significantly. "Yeah! And we found a box full of big, old hats! Are they yours, Tifa? I don't remember you having them."
"Nope," Tifa grunted as she helped Yuffie restack the boxes to their left. "I found them up here but I thought they were super neat. I figured I'd keep them." She backed up to survey her work, then, finding it suitable, turned to investigate the damage to the armoire.
The avalanche of heavy boxes had cracked the right door, breaking off the silver handle, which was now nowhere in sight. Something had landed hard against the bottom molding, causing it to splinter, and upon further inspection, Tifa found that one of the hinges on the left door had been bent in a way that made closing the doors impossible.
"You guys sure did a number on this poor monstrosity."
"I'm sorry we broke your closet, Tifa." Marlene knelt down beside her and threaded her small fingers into Tifa's hand. "I thought I saw a rat and we got scared and Denzel bumped the boxes. He didn't mean to…but it was mean of him to blame Yuffie."
"No kidding," Yuffie puffed before leaning down to join them. "So can you fix it?"
"I don't know," Tifa sighed as she rose to her feet. She gave Marlene's hand a squeeze. "But don't worry, sweetie, I'm not mad. I'm not even sure this old hunk of junk is worth fixing. Only reason I didn't ask Vincent to help me haul it out of here is because it probably weighs about eighty-billion pounds."
Marlene let loose a giggle. "Maybe you could ask Daddy to do it."
"Right!" Yuffie added with a snort. "Like you could even get that thing down the ladder! Barret would hardly fit by himself!"
At that moment, their shared laughter was interrupted by Shera calling from the bottom of the stairs. "Soup's on, kids! Come get it while it's hot!"
"You guys go ahead," Tifa prodded, goofy grin still clinging to her lips. "I'm going to see if I can't find that handle really quick. I'll be down soon."
The two girls turned to leave, giggling over some pun Yuffie had made. "Oh!" Tifa called as the top of their heads disappeared below the floor. "And make sure Cid doesn't eat my share!"
She waited for Yuffie's sarcasm-laced reply before turning back to the task at hand. Okay. So it's got to be somewhere around here. Honestly, Tifa wasn't sure why she cared about finding the handle; she had been sincere when she told Marlene not to worry. She wasn't attached to the great, squatting bulk of a wardrobe or anything. But for some reason she felt compelled to look all the same.
Getting down on all fours, Tifa lowered her head as close to the floor as she could get without touching and peered underneath the ebony behemoth. There. Something glinted in the darkness back against the wall. With a sigh, she stretched out her arm, feeling about blindly with her fingertips but finding only dust bunnies. She scooted closer, bare feet scritching on the rough wooden floor, and was shoulder deep before the tips of her fingers brushed the wall.
"Okay…I know you're back there…aha!" Tifa closed her hand around something cold and metal and then suddenly, and rather inconveniently, remembered that Marlene had thought she'd seen a rat. She yanked her arm back like she'd been bitten, scraping the back of her hand on the splintered molding in her haste.
"Nice," she sighed before licking away the few beads of blood that had formed. But when she opened her hand, Tifa found that she was not, in fact, holding the lost handle, but rather, a large skeleton key. She turned it over in her palm, rubbing a layer of dust from the silver finish. It was beautiful, in the way that old things sometimes are, elegantly shaped and surprisingly heavy. It didn't make sense, really, the way it transfixed her, but the longer Tifa inspected the key, the more important it seemed. Closing her eyes, Tifa gently ran her fingers along every facet, as though she were memorizing its shape, branding it into her brain.
Then, somewhere amongst the creaks of the rafters and the soft groans of the wind against the windows, Tifa could have sworn she could hear whispering. It was indistinct, soft enough she had to hold her breath. The harder she strained to hear, the less human it sounded, more like the hissing of static than any construct of words. She could feel a droplet of blood trailing down past her wrist but remained perfectly still. Then, the whispering ceased and Tifa was left wondering whether she had heard anything at all.
Her eyes flicked open as she tucked the key into one of the front pockets of her robe. Such a treasure would have to be kept for further study. Besides, keys usually belonged to locks. Maybe she could find whatever it was this one belonged to.
Standing with a groan, Tifa leaned in to survey the busted door. She gave the hinges a few tests and then pulled both doors open. It was then that she noticed that the floor of the armoire had also been damaged. The single piece of wood that made up the bottom had caved in up front, leaving a gap in the back. Tifa gave the edge a tug, and with a bit of exertion, was able dislodge the piece entirely. Beneath, she found a small open space and inside, a faded, dust covered cigar box.
After further examination revealed no other items of interest, Tifa carefully replaced the floorboard and gave it a few pounds with her fist in each corner. Satisfied she'd preformed the maximum amount of repairs she could manage at present, Tifa turned her attention to the box. Gingerly, she turned it around in her hands before cautiously pulling up the lid. Inside, she found a stack of folded yellow parchment.
Careful not to tear her brittle discovery, Tifa unfolded the top piece. The inside was covered in some sort of writing. It was done in black ink, but the words were composed of symbols, rather than letters. The date in the upper right hand corner, however, she could read. These papers were over a hundred and fifty years old!
She was suddenly jarred from her thoughts by Yuffie's bellowing at the bottom of the ladder
"Tifa! I can't fend off Cid forever! Get your butt down here or I'll eat all your flapjacks myself!"
"Alright!" She called as she hurriedly stuffed the parchment back in the cigar box. "I'm coming right now!"
Tifa rushed back to the attic door, making sure turn off the ineffectual overhead light on her way. She folded up the ladder behind her and shut the door with a dull thud but paused before heading down the stairs. Doubling back to her room, Tifa slipped the cigar box under her robe. Once safely behind her door, she doffed the robe, rolling both box and key inside, and tucked it all into her bottom dresser drawer.
As she descended the stairs, Tifa realized she wasn't making sense again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that these discoveries were important for some reason. Whatever they were, she wanted to wait until she knew more before telling the others about them.
- O -
After a wonderful breakfast, made all the more wonderful by the company it was shared with, Yuffie declared that she didn't want to spend another moment inside. Tifa couldn't help but agree. What with all the recent rain, she was beginning to get a chronic case of cabin fever, even if it had abated a bit now that she was surrounded by close friends.
"Well," she offered cheerfully as she stowed the last of the clean breakfast dishes in her cupboard. "I would like to pay a visit to the diner. You know, to check up on things. I wouldn't mind a stretch of the legs."
Vincent, however was opposed to the idea. "I do not think that wise, Tifa, in light of the recent threats."
Yuffie, who had been leaning against the archway, took a step into the kitchen, notably in the direction of the back door. "Hey, no worries. I'll go with her. We'll be perfectly safe. After all, it's just next door."
'Next door' would have been more aptly called 'a modest trek.' Although the diner sat on the abutting property, there was a good 60 yards of winding, lightly wooded path between it and Tifa's back stoop.
This was surely what caused the gunman to grimace. "That's hardly reassuring, Miss Kisaragi."
To her credit, Yuffie didn't even bat an eye at the suspected slight. "Well fine then. You'll just have to come too." By this time, she had sidled up to Tifa, possibly intending to present to image of a united front.
Marlene, who was sitting in one of wooden kitchen chairs reading the morning's edition of the comic page, piped up. "Tifa's pretty strong, Mr. Vincent. She can protect herself, you know."
The comment only caused Vincent's frown to deepen, but Tifa stood a bit straighter at the praise, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's right, Marlene. Thank you for noticing." This last part was punctuated by a smug glance in his direction.
Not ten minutes later, Yuffie, Tifa, and Marlene were out the door, Vincent trailing after in morose silence.
"So about what we were talking about last night," Yuffie's boots crunched on the gravel as she turned and began to walk backwards in order to face them. "That whole thing Barret said about you going back to Rocket Town with Cid and Shera is crazy."
Tifa smiled as she felt Marlene's hand slip into her own. "I have no intention of leaving. I have responsibilities here."
"Yeah, and besides," the younger woman continued, "That means the bad guys win."
Maybe it was her imagination, but Tifa could almost feel Vincent bristling behind her. "It's not about winning or losing," she laughed awkwardly. "I just kind of like it here. And I don't feel like running."
Marlene, who had only been informed of a fraction of the goings on, started to swing her arm back and forth, bringing Tifa's with it. "I don't want you to go all the way to Rocket Town, Tifa. Then I'll never get to see you."
Tifa looked down and watched as the cool, rain-scented breeze parted the girl's bangs across her forehead. "I wouldn't want to be so far away from you and Denzel either, Marlene."
The girl grinned up at Tifa and then glanced over her shoulder before slowing her pace, clearly waiting for Vincent to catch up. Once was close enough, she reached out with her free hand and gripped one of his own.
Tifa held her breath, waiting for Vincent to react, and when he showed no sign of anything happening whatsoever, looked to Yuffie with a shrug. The ninja returned the gesture before turning back around and the group finished their journey to the diner in silence.
- O -
"Oh, hey, boss. Glad you could find time during your busy vacation to stop by."
"Of course, Ace. Glad to see you haven't burned the place down while I was away."
Ace, a young man with fiery red hair and a thousand watt smile, grinned as he tossed the towel he'd previously been buffing the counter with over his shoulder. "Well, I figure grease-fires are bad for business, so, you know." He turned his beaming visage onto Marlene, who was, with some effort, climbing onto one of the many stools positioned at the bar. "Good to see you, Marlene. It's been a while. Can I get you the usual?"
Having attained maximum comfort levels on her stool, folded her hands on the counter in front of her. "Chocolate milk, please."
The ginger fry cook/waiter saluted. "Coming right up."
As he rooted around the beverage station behind the counter, Yuffie took the seat next to Marlene. "Business is kinda slow, isn't it?"
Tifa surveyed the diner, giving the single customer a friendly wave before turning back with a shrug. "The Saturday lunch rush doesn't start for another hour or so and most people are done with breakfast by now."
Ace returned, sliding a tall glass of chocolate milk complete with red and white striped bendy straw in front of Marlene. "It's been a slow day, besides. I guess folks are out enjoying the lull in the rain." He regarded Yuffie with a smile that practically shone out his eyes. "And what can I get for you, beautiful?"
"Just water, please," Yuffie answered good-naturedly. "And while I'll agree that I am quite beautiful, that's not my name." She extended a hand which the young man eagerly shook. "Yuffie Kisaragi."
"Pleasure to meet you. They call me Ace around here, but my names actually Aidan." He let go of her hand and leaned back, giving the young woman an once-over so obvious Tifa almost face-palmed. "But you can call me whatever you want."
The couple's shameless flirting was interrupted by a loud ringing and a shout of "order up!"
Aidan sighed. "Duty calls." He turned on his heal and lifted a plate of flapjacks and back from the metal window in the wall behind him before heading to the corner booth where the lone guest sat.
"Hey, Keaton," Tifa called to the young blonde peering through the window. "How's it shaking?"
Keaton merely waved, uttering a 'good morning' before ducking back out of sight.
Aidan stepped back behind the counter with a chuckle and a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about him, he's just shy. That, and class has apparently been taking a lot out of him." The well-built red-head glanced over at Vincent, who had remained by the front door and was currently keeping his eyes affixed to something outside. "So is your friend gonna eat something or…"
Tifa shook her head subtly, hoping Aidan would take a hint and not bother him. Even though Marlene had so graciously offered her hand during their walk, it had done nothing to improve his more-stoic-and-broody-than-usual mood.
Aidan threw her a wink before leaning forward and passing Yuffie a glass of ice-water, his fingers lingering over hers longer than necessary. "So where were we?"
"I was just about to go back and ask Keaton something," Tifa replied quickly before smoothing back Marlene's hair. The girl pulled back from her vehement straw-sucking and looked up at her. "I'll be right back, okay sweetie? Let Ace know if you want anything else."
Marlene nodded and as Tifa pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, she heard the girl politely asking for a second cup.
Once in the back, Tifa took a moment to have a look around. Usually, during the week, she came in at 6am to prepare for the day. Her full time fry-cook, Fergus would come in at 7 and she would open up shop, working as a waitress/hostess until closing time at 2pm. It was only on Fridays and Saturdays that the diner was open from 4 to 9 and Tifa had hired on four college students to work the weekends. Keaton and Aidan usually worked in the kitchen and Melanie and Charlotte up front. Currently, however, Aidan was also working in Tifa's stead.
Today, as was the usual on Saturday mornings, Keaton was manning the grill. Although it would have been more accurate to say that he was sitting on an unfolded step-ladder with his nose in a rather thick textbook. He seemed startled when Tifa approached and shut the tome with a sharp thud.
"Sorry, Ms. Lockhart. I know I shouldn't be…well…it's just been really slow this morning…especially now that the rush is over…"
"Don't sweat it, Keaton," Tifa replied with a smile as she leaned against the industrial sized metal dishwasher/sink. "I totally understand. And I thought I told you to call me Tifa. I'm not one of your professor's, you know."
The tall, and rather gangly, blonde blushed as he awkwardly rose and nudged the ladder back with his heel. "Right. Of course, Tifa." He added the name almost in a question, as though it was completely foreign to him.
Tifa made a show of glancing about, hands on her hips. "I will say this; you sure run a tight ship back here. Everything's so clean and orderly."
The compliment coaxed a nervous laugh from the youth, but, if anything, his usually hunched shoulders seemed to take on even more invisible weight. "Thanks."
Alright, so buttering him up clearly wasn't going to work. Tifa would just have to resort to plan B: the direct approach.
"So, you used to be majoring in linguistics right?"
Keaton placed his textbook on top of one of the metal cabinets near the cooler: the ones that almost reached the ceiling. "Actually I was double majoring in language studies and history. But I switched to history with an emphasis on the written word." He turned back to her, hands in his apron pockets, and fixed her with his mud-brown eyes. "I didn't think you'd remember that."
"Oh, come on," Tifa retorted with a congenial smile. "How could I forget? I think it's really neat you have an aptitude for that stuff. Maybe you'll be a famous historian someday."
"Historians don't really get famous." Keaton dropped his gaze to his shuffling feet, but Tifa caught the genuine smile that split his face.
'Okay, time to go all in.'
"Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me with something." She reached into the pocket of her shorts and fished out an old receipt. "Do you have a pen?"
Though his smile had dissipated almost instantly, he reached over to the order window and grabbed a ballpoint pen before placing it in her hand; Tifa caught the curiosity in his eyes. She thanked him as she smoothed out the paper and then proceeded to draw out some of the symbols she had seen on the parchment from the cigar box, hoping she was getting them right.
Once she had finished five of the symbols she could clearly picture in her mind, she capped the pen and backed up. Keaton slid the receipt over to take a closer look, hunched low over the counter.
"Well," he began, pushing his rimless glasses back up his prominent nose, "I can't tell you what it says, but they look like runes of some sort."
"Runes?" Tifa picked up the paper and inspected her drawings. "You mean like the ones used in fortune-telling?"
Keaton nodded his head back and forth. "Yes and no. You see, the runes used for that sort of thing are merely symbols, but they were originally part of an alphabet."
"So they're like kanji?"
"Runes are actually closer to the letters of our alphabet than kanji. Kanji is used to express an idea but runes were invented as a phonetic alphabet. Each one represents its own unique sound." The young man bit his lip before pointing at one of the runes that resembled a less-than sign. "See how they're all straight lines? That's because, runes were used by peoples who pre-dated paper. Straight lines are easier to carve into wood or stone. Easier to keep for long periods of time too."
Tifa hummed in understanding. "So there are people who can read them today?"
"Yes, but it's more complicated than you'd think. There are several different runic alphabets, originating from different areas, and they each have subtle differences from one another." Though he still wasn't meeting her eyes, Tifa noticed that he had straightened a bit once he got into his explanation. She thought to herself, not for the first time, that academia suited him.
"Also, there's the issue of different spoken languages. You may be able to discern the sound each rune stands for, but unless you know the original language, you'd still need a translation. And if, by some chance, ours was the original language, it still would be a little tricky." At this he gestured for her pen and then bent back over the receipt, scrawling something below her drawings.
"Here's what I mean. Say you wanted to convey the term 'daughter.' Rather than writing out one rune for each letter, you would use the ones which meant 'dah,' 'ah,' 'tah,' and 'er.'"
He handed the pen and paper back to Tifa, with a crooked smile. "I see," she mused. "Thank you, Keaton. This has been very informative."
Keaton nodded before turning away to hide another blush. "No problem."
When it was obvious the conversation was at an end, Tifa clapped her hands together and nodded toward the door. "Well, my friends are waiting, so I should go…but it's been nice talking to you."
The young man gave a quiet nod, but as Tifa was about to leave he asked, "I don't mind or anything, but why the sudden interest in ancient symbols?"
Tifa shrugged with a good-natured smile. "Just saw them somewhere. Thought if anybody would know it'd be you. Catch you later."
Back in the dining area, Tifa found that a) the single customer had left, leaving a five under the salt-shaker, b) Marlene had finished off another glass of chocolate milk in her absence and was almost done with a third, c) Aidan had seated himself on the vacant stool next to Yuffie and was in the middle of some story the ninja was laughing awfully loud to, and d) Vincent had not moved an inch. Really, none of these things surprised her in the slightest.
- O -
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