Always Moonlight Sonata

Who: Leija and her dad
When: night
Where: their house

It was Moonlight Sonata. Always Moonlight Sonata. John Christiensen stood outside the door to the study for a long time, listening to his daughter play. She would stop as soon as she knew he was there, but the man had learned ways around it. Like eavesdropping when she was too wrapped up in the music to even think about whether or not he was in the hallway. He'd learned what the pieces meant to her. Moonlight Sonata was for when she was sad about something. Which was why she knew it so well, most likely.

Eventually his fatherly instincts won out over his appreciation for her skill, and he walked into the room to sit next to her. Leija's fingers stilled on the keys and she took her hands away just as his moved to take their place. He picked up where she'd left off, effortlessly taking over the tempo she'd had going. Leija let her temple rest lightly against his shoulder, watching his long fingers do their work.

"You were happy when you came home," John observed quietly. She had, in fact, been smiling from ear to ear. He'd seen it with his own eyes and found himself a bit taken aback. It was a boy, of course. Had to be.

"Yeah," she mumbled in a noncommittal manner.

"Want to talk about it?" he offered as he moved into another classical piece. Something from the Russian school, slow and somber. Far be it from him to try and force cheerfulness on her, after all. Not only was it impossible, he'd always seen it as disrespectful.

"No," Leija said flatly, even though she did. Her father nodded and she watched him play for what felt like a long time. She forced herself not to look at it, but the framed and smiling picture of her mother that rested off to her left on a bookshelf just gleamed in her peripheral vision. "Do you think it was worth it?" she asked very softly, barely audible over the music. "Being with mom?"

John didn't even hesitate. "It was worth everything," he answered, keeping up the playing. It helped her talk, he knew. And his hunch about it being a boy was entirely confirmed. Not that he thought she'd be running off to get married any day or anything ... but it wasn't a question she'd ever asked before. "I miss her. I wish things had turned out differently. But your mother enriched my life too much for me ever to even consider trading our time for anything. And she gave me you."

Leija's breath hitched, and John stopped to put his arms around her. She put her face in his chest and tried to hold everything in as hard as she could. "I don't w-wanna be anyb-body's burd-den," she stuttered when that didn't work. The entire day -- save for the early morning -- had been wonderful, and she'd loved every second of it. And that was the problem. Thom was too good, too wonderful, too personable and funny and she liked him far too much already. It was horrible and amazing at the same time.

Her father made a soft tsking sound and rubbed his hand over her hair. "Not possible, sweetheart," he murmured to her softly. "It just takes the right kind of man. You've got plenty of time." Which was of course generalized advice that might not help her at all, but he meant it at least. He left out the fact that she might not find a boy her age anywhere who would accept and deal with 800 pound gorilla in the room that had to be dealt with. It was a sad truth, but he'd worked with young people for a long time, and most of them couldn't even commit to a major, much less Leija's size of secret.

She shook her head against him in a mute sort of denial. She did have plenty of time, that was true, yes. But she doubted that anyone anywhere would ever understand. Her father was one of a kind. She hugged him and just cried for a while. She was fairly sure in a dim way that she hadn't had this weird of a day in a long time. Stupid hormones or whatever was going on. She just knew she didn't like it. After a while she just quieted into sniffles. "This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" she mumbled, aware that she didn't have to lay things out detail by detail for her dad.

"Everything worthwhile does, in one form or another," John told her gently, continuing to stroke her hair. It was darker than her mother's had been, but so much else was very much the same. "It's just your call to decide what falls under 'worthwhile'. Nobody can make those decisions for you."

Nodding a bit more and pulling away enough -- but not too far -- for him to have his arms back, Leija wiped at her eyes with one sleeve. "Play some Tchai for me?" she asked softly. Chuckling a bit, John nodded and put hands to keys once more for his little girl.