. . . Chorophobia . . .

Last Stanza: The Observer

Ma poi ch'i' fui al piè d'un colle giunto,
là dove terminava quella valle
che m'avea di paura il cor compunto,

guardai in alto, e vidi le sue spalle
vestite già de' raggi del pianeta
che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle.

But when I'd reached the bottom of a hill-
it rose along the boundary of the valley
that had harassed my heart with so much fear-

I looked on high and saw its shoulders clothed
already by the rays of that same planet
which serves to lead men straight along all roads.

Dante Alighieri Inferno

In a place without time, it's often hard to realize where you are. Things get jumbled, and I can't see everything clearly. But I think I've been here long enough to do one thing; control my focus. Like a tape, I've played this day over and over again... I've never really known why.

When you're dead, your perspective changes.

That's the first thing you become aware of. This can't be life. You can't feel. You can only see. You can't interfere. You can only watch.

I stop and focus. I have my favorite moments. Certain smiles, certain touches of the hand. I guess that the happiness is what drew me first. When I could still feel the breath of life on my phantom lips.

But even that began to fade. I sought out the tears. The anger. The loneliness. I guess I was bitter then, maybe envious. And now, whatever now might be, I've run the entire spectrum. I might be emotionless, if it weren't for them. My reminders.

This corner of the room (if there ever was a room, so many things are deceitful), I keep Barret. His tapes play intertwined with the others, it was never very often that he was alone. His past is so much more vivid to behold before your eyes, no matter my once innocent heart nearly broke when he simple told us...

Ah. The dancing. My compulsive ghosting of a mind likes to keep tapes of like moments. Neat and tidy, like rows of vegetables. This current trace of feeling leaves me in the mood for their dancing. Some are so few; like Barret.

The swing with Tifa; a goodbye to sentiment. My favorite...brings us with ties of family, maybe.

"It's Christmas Daddy!" Marlene shouts, even on the cusp of adulthood, she cannot contain her glee. He smiles at her, enjoying the brief moment to hug her. She breaks free showing off her perfect pirouette; even in sneakers her feet are well trained.

She's only back for the holidays. A cautious old pale hand pats his elbow...

Further. It's almost my favorite part.

Lights dimmed and the tunes from an old stereo play light lullabies. Marlene's presence had left for the night; there were other parties to attend to.

But those who remain, though looking a little older for it, do not seem to mind. Laughter, soft and gentle, as he twirls her for the second time.

"I'm too old to swing like I used to!" Elmyra replied, nearly breathless. He grinned.

"And Imma silly ole fo'!" he said, spinning her back in place.

Too bad no wedding... I wanted to see them all together. But the future fluctuates sometimes, leaving fuzzy grains in the images. Sometimes they don't come back; I've realized.

Marlene is a dancer. I can see all the steps from tiny wisp of a girl, lanky girl woman, and then the graceful lady she became. Part of the rules of this place does not allow me to peer too far into the future beyond those that I know... most of Marlene's life is hidden from me. But her debut with the New Midgar Ballet is a tape I could watch over and over again.

Mother... I only want the best for you. I wish you didn't cry for me. I wish you had gotten married again. I was never enough to fill your strained heart, was I?

I'm too cowardly to watch any of their deaths. I know that some of them happened, certainly, and that they are at rest. Mother is finally had some peace, and I think Barret has joined her. But the younger ones are still around.

Like Yuffie. I like to look at her corner. She's so vibrant. Lovely dancer to boot.

She dances quite often, no matter what age I see her at. And she grew up, too. It would have been interesting to experience; the woman that Yuffie became.

Two wedding dances for her. The first was hasty and private; the second timid and with a few friends. A full life, for certain. I can't help but envy her that. But what is there but envy for the dead?

Her first husband died, I believe. I can feel the weight of his presence here.

"So, Spunk, do ya regret this?" Reno whispered in Yuffie's ear while the quiet music played into the night.

"Naw. I just wish we coulda invited a few people," she replied, grinning. He kissed her forehead.

"I shoulda learned by now the results of impulse decisions..." he said, laughing. She glared at him, but soon softened her expression.

Yes, he is gone. That's how she found her second husband. At the funeral. Another dance... but I don't want to think about that one.

Maybe I should look at Cid's corner. Corner? I wonder what shape this room is...

He's another one who has passed on. The first, I believe. I told him that those cigarettes would kill him; no surprise they did. Even if he quit them for periods of time... he was always sneaking them despite. And Shera too. I adore their wedding; it was the last time everyone was together in the same place. A place that started and ended so many things.

"Cid? What are you doing?" Shera asked, her face a mess of confusion, as she peeked her head in the room. He smiled at her.

"C'mere girly. I gotta surprise fer ya," he replied, gesturing for her to come inside. She raised her eyebrows and complied. He moved aside to reveal what he'd been working on.

"What is it?" she asked, inspecting it. He frowned.

"A radio, woman." Then she smiled. He flicked a switch, and the older music filled the room. He still used his patented hug and waddle when they danced, but she didn't mind.

Two children from them. Wright and Amelia. They did fabulous things with their lives, though Amelia took her father's death quite hard. He had a soft spot for her; she was the one out of the two of them that took up flying. Wright became an engineer. Both were terrible dancers, but lovely singers, like their parents.

Children... while I'm thinking of them, I can't help but look at Nanaki's corner. He had the most children: five total. Seems that he wasn't the last of his kind. His mate was lovely too... Hyuta. Five lovely cubs. He is most certainly alive; his time probably works so slowly. Became particularly close to Wright, if the image serves me right...

"The mechanics of it is so strange, even now," Nanaki spoke, to no one in particular, the red of the setting sun intensifying his own glow. A slight purr sounded next to him.

"Still musing about humans, dear?" Hyuta spoke gently, her tail flicking lazily behind her. He laughed.

"Yes, just remembering an old conversation..." he trailed off, and nuzzled her affectionately. She gave him a lazy half grin.

"I understand. They mean a lot to you, don't they?" she asked. He nodded.

"We should visit that Yuffie one..." she continued, and he grinned widely.

You are not alone any more, are you? I used to comfort myself, knowing that you and Vincent at least would be alone like I am. But I do not grudge you your happiness. It was silly of me to think that with a lifetime as long as yours, you would never find your own kind.

And even Reeve was not always alone. Though I expected him to find her.

His corner next. Such a double person, Reeve is. If only I'd have met him... that cat that he hid behind was the best reflection of his soul. I think he would have found me funny, with my girlish ways. He is my hope that even I, lost in time's grasp, might be found.

For even the wicked can be redeemed.

"Hello, sir?" the haggard looking blond woman spoke, tugging at Reeve's sleeve. He turned around to her, and his eyes flashed with recognition. She smiled tiredly.

"I can't help but think I know you," she whispered, raising a hand to his face. He grimaced.

"Do not play tricks with me..."

Further, to the discovery. The suspense is too much.

"I don't know my name," she said clearly, after Reeve interrogated her some more. He shook his head.

"Does Scarlet ring a bell?" he murmured, brows furrowed with the name. Her eyes lit up.

"So you do know me!" she exclaimed, hugging him. His eyes seemed divided.

"If you are her..." he whispered into her hair, "Then you might not want to know who you are..."

She was never really the same woman. Too much memory had been lost. But he built her up, into a person that had existed before the Shinra. So maybe she was more Scarlet than she had imagined... untouched and fresh. But she never tangoed again.

Redemption... I always think of Vincent when I think of that word. Such a heavy word, meant for serious talks, and serious people. If my phantom eyes could cry, I would have, when I saw him smile that time. I've learned that once broken, things can never really be fixed. There are always scars.

But you can come close, I think.

Vincent's corner is so full of light unexpectedly. He was a happy child. The fumbling steps as his older sister taught him to waltz remind me of times from my own life. Though, he wasn't my brother, and later, not even my friend...

No. Not now. I can't talk of the dead like that. Funny, how respectful of them I am. I wonder why I haven't seen any of them. Why I'm alone like this.

Tifa sat on the front porch, watching the sun come up over the horizon. Bags from a sleepless night hung under her eyes, and a mug of coffee sat next to her.

"Only you choose to be alone," Vincent's voice drifted next to her. She closed her eyes.

"So do you." She swallowed a lump in her throat. He sighed.

"Who are you waiting for?" he asked. She smiled, and looked up at him.

Tifa, sister, friend, I look at your corner so often. I wanted to play my life through you, did you feel it? I wanted you to marry him, and have lots of children. But Cloud's stubborn, isn't he? The silly boy. And I'm sorry, I made it so hard for you to let go of him. I didn't see where your gaze finally lay. I didn't notice it, the first time you danced with him, that you were meant for something else.

Why did you let me bully you so much? Of course, you'd never see it that way... and I think maybe you would laugh at me, for my silliness.

I used to think that when someone thought about you, you would sneeze. I don't know now. The living, for the most part, can't communicate with the dead. But, if they concentrate enough, they can feel them. I know Tifa felt me. Marlene felt me. Cloud felt me.

I hope, Tifa, you felt my blessing. Your happiness surprised me.

Tifa pulled a little closer to him, happy to have the excuse to dance with him again. It was such a formal party, and she felt awkward without him. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the amount of champagne they'd had, but he smiled at her.

"You are lovely," he whispered in her ear, immediately making her red. She giggled.

"Vincent..." she began to protest, but he shook his head.

"I wonder if we will ever have this chance again..." he murmured, and stumbled. She guided him back into the step. They were tipsy, for certain. So she kissed him on the cheek.

"I hope we remember this later..."

I watched them, making sure that they wouldn't fall out of existence. They must both be still alive, I can't feel them so keenly to suggest otherwise. A gray Tifa is still so bright and lovely. Especially considering how carefully Vincent handles her, with his own bones jumping back into aging; a fierce and quick thing. I want to think that they are always happy; but it is hard, to be so haunted.

I will be waiting for them.

I must look at the last corner now... my sense of order tells me to. It hurts the most, almost to the fact I can feel. I kept so much hope for him, and he kept...

Cloud. Didn't I tell you I would return?

I saw it all. Those lonely quests as you wandered, trying to "find" me. Trying for something that is just beyond our capabilities. Oh, how I admire your resolve.

And when you realized that the guilt was all that kept you going, I felt my last thread slip away. I think maybe that's why I'm here, unable to fully die, and unable to live. I think so many things, I feel loss, and I feel nothing...

It took another funeral for you to find her.

"Th-thanks for coming," Yuffie said, her voice quivering. She was still in shock, with Reno's death, regressing almost, looking younger and sadder.

"Oh, Yuff," Cloud said, holding onto her for a moment. He was never one to comfort, he was never as steady as he wanted to be. But he felt desperate, seeing this once sprite of energy reduced to a widow. She still seemed so young.

I always wanted you to find Tifa, when I realized that I couldn't come back. But I was such an idealistic and foolish girl, wasn't I? I didn't see the pain involved. From sorrow comes...

"I've gotten a little better at dancing," Cloud said, humoring her. Yuffie's empty stare disturbed him, and he recalled a happier time with music. She nodded.

"Here, I'll show you," he said, extending his hand.

...comes...understanding. Maybe that's why it all happened the way it did. But what have I done? Can I be selfish for once? Can I?

Not everyone made it to the wedding. Cloud wasn't so young anymore, and Yuffie was just beginning to show the signs of aging. Those present knew that it would be a short union.

Tifa was there. She was smiling so happily at them. Disillusionment did little to dampen that. With her came Vincent, pretending that he wasn't there with her. They weren't quite ready to stop hiding.

Maybe it wasn't the happiest affair they'd ever seen. It had a different feel from the typical blushing young bride and uncertain young man.

But when they were dancing, you could see it; there was forgiveness.

And still, I can't help but smile at them. I just can't let any of them go. I just can't...

Shy little wallflower, sing me a song
On faery light feet gentle breezes
They dance for me, come along

A wink and a giggle, teases
The young men, gentle girl
Be young, for so many reasons

Spin and dance, clap and whirl
Live it, for naught which is lost
Step and sing, jaunt and twirl

Out of a world, once tempest tossed
She's watching, endless youthful
Beauty, what is the cost?

All your life, ever truthful.

But I feel now. Something I haven't in quite a long time... it's February, isn't it? What age am I now? How many summers have I missed now? I am tired, let me sleep... I am tired...

"I believe that it is your birthday," Tseng said, matter of factly, in that serious manner she was used to.

"Yes, and I want to show you that I've been practicing," Aeris replied gleefully, tugging on his arm. He raised an eyebrow.

"You have?" he whispered, and then grinned. She arranged his arms.

"Of course," she said, taking the first step, "I figured I owed you my first real dance, considering you taught me and all." And they began moving, the youthful and hesitant steps contrasting with the refined and strained ones of a youth cut off too soon.

I can't believe I'd forgotten, trying so hard to hold onto life... can I be forgiven? Please? I want so badly to be forgiven, why did you let me go? Why did you even have to let me go?

"Come now, rest my child."

Mom? Am I still alone? Is he here?

"He's been waiting for you for quite some time now, dear."

---

AN: So, I finished it. I guess there are a couple of twists. >. I felt there was some resolution needed. And I have an unnatural curiousity with the idea of Limbo... I know some people will hate this conclusion. I apologize to you. These are just ideas I like to play with. And you can interpret the "he" at the end to be any guy you want. Seriously. Thank you for following along, those that have. And sorry for the longness of this chapter. It's the last one, that's my excuse.

Oy, I think too much. Back to studying now! I have an exam in five hours...but this story kept whispering to me, and I was so close to finishing it...

And if you're wondering what happened to Rude, well, he had a good life. Sorry, but Aeris wouldn't particularly focus on him. Made sense to me. Then again, do I ever make any sense? Oh well...

Bonus points for those who can figure out why Cid's kids are named what they are. ;) - Props to EvilMina, thehighwaywoman, and White Kit Rose, catching my not really so subtle relation back to flight... with a nod to the Wright Brothers and Amelia Earhart (personal heroes of mine).