. . . Chorophobia . . .

Second Stanza: Barret Wallace

Sleep, sleep happy child,
All creation slept and smil'd;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee thy mother weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face,
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe, once like thee,
Thy maker lay and wept for me.

- William Blake "Cradle Song"

She was still so small, twirling in her garishly girly dress. Barret knew that he had only a precious few more years of her childhood like this. She was already ten years old; the single digit days had passed so quickly. He'd spent so much of her growing up period away, trying to make a difference in the world.

"Daddy?" she asked expectantly, tugging on his hand, "One more dance, puh-leeeze?" He smiled at her. She was going to be quite a heart breaker, that was for sure. So convincing, and with a bat of her pretty little eyes, she'd have anything she wanted.

"Ya, baby," he replied, taking her other hand, "But jus' one more, ok? Daddy's gettin a little tired." She smiled impishly at him and twirled around. His little girl wanted to be a dancer, for some reason. She'd held onto that thought for quite some time, pleading with him every year for the right shoes, the right dress...

It was funny how she'd picked up the idea. She had seen Tifa training one morning, doing her stretches and practice jabs and kicks. Marlene had been six or so at the time, and he hadn't exposed her to the idea of fighting. She had clapped her hands cheered Tifa on, saying it was the prettiest dance she had ever seen.

He took his gaze off his daughter for a moment, searching out the woman in question. He didn't get to see her himself as much these days, but Marlene certainly did. He'd been thankful that Tifa had such a way with children, and had taken care of his girl for so long. She was the very reason his girl didn't end up boyish and strange... for Tifa was a lady, in his mind, always would be.

Marlene let go of one of his hands, spinning around and around. She giggled as she did this, always happy to be moving.

His eyes finally rested on Tifa, who was sitting at a table, head propped on her elbow. She was laughing, and he could see the flame tip of Nanaki's tail peeking up over the tablecloth. Vincent sat across from her, an amused look on his face.

Why does he hang around so much? Does he really have nothin better ta do?

He thought Tifa's face looked natural laughing, or smiling. He'd seen it drawn and sad too many times to wish it on her. She looked natural when she was beautiful. And there was nothing more beautiful than her face when she was happy, except maybe his daughter's smile.

He couldn't help but let out a breath; long and slow. If only Marlene knew all the things he'd given up for her. Maybe he would tell her one day, after she was grown up with children of her own. So he could hold onto her a little longer.

"Daddy, the song's over," Marlene's voice brought him back to the present, with her adorably morose tone. He shook his head and smiled at her.

"Maybe you should go an' bother Aunt Tifa," he suggested, gesturing towards the woman, who was in another fit of laughter.

Pawnin yo daughter off on her again? I need ta think anyway.

"Ok Daddy!" she exclaimed, bounding her way to Tifa, who greeted her with a warm smile.

It was then that he allowed himself to frown, to let his real mood set in. As long as Marlene was nearby, Barret could never really feel down. But the truth was, his spirits were low, especially on a day like this.

Damn Cid's married, and I can't git over the one thing I'll never have.

Another laugh from Tifa's direction, this time it was Marlene. Whatever story Nanaki must be concocting was a good one.

He stalked off, narrowly avoiding bumping into Yuffie and Cloud; who were dangerous on the dance floor. He felt exposed out there, alone and towering over the others. He felt exposed most of the time, having a robotic hand with a gun hidden inside didn't help.

He sat down at an empty table, with an exhausted huff. He hadn't lied to Marlene, he was a bit tired. Though more from his own thoughts more than anything else.

He was looking off in her direction again, that woman had a magnetism that was unparalleled. And he was jealous of every man sitting around her, as Reeve soon joined the table.

Git a grip. She's close to being a mom to yo daughter, but far from bein yo wife.

He had held illusions about it at one time, just after Cloud and she had their final fight. After the whole hero shine had worn off. She'd come crying to him about that foolish boy, her smile and laughter all but lost. He wanted to pump him full of lead for doing that to her. And she'd asked him if anyone would ever love her, if anyone gave a damn.

But he'd let the moment pass. He couldn't burden her with the life he had to give. He was her friend, her confidante. Never her lover.

Then why do ya still regret it?

"Barret?" her soft voice greeted him, and when he looked up, her radiant smile, "Why are you out here by yourself?" He shrugged.

"Jus' needed ta rest," he replied, keeping his mood out of his voice, "She's a real ball of energy sometimes." Tifa nodded knowingly.

"Well that ball of energy thought I should come over and ask you to dance," she added slyly, with that warm and friendly voice he was used to. She was so comfortable around him. He found himself nodding before his brain registered what she said.

"Great!" she said, tugging at his arm in a manner all too familiar, "Just one, and I'll let you have a good long rest." He smirked.

It was a fast tune, though not particularly cheerful. There was something almost frantic in the music, but it seemed to suit Tifa quite well. His daughter had to learn her more endearing traits from somewhere.

Laughing, smiling, spinning... he was nearly euphoric for a moment, just dancing with her, being close to her. She narrowly missed the disaster twins, Cloud and Yuffie, on one particularly flailing spin. Yet she still had that odd sort of grace, that quiet Sunday morning feeling she usually left him with.

He had another memory to lock away, to savor. He would always be her friend, no matter the circumstances, but it was the precious few times like this that he felt like he could touch her, and she would touch him back. That running his human fingers through her hair would only make her pull him closer.

"Whew," Tifa gasped in between breaths, "I might be getting too old for that." He laughed with her at the absurdity of such a statement. For Tifa never grew old, not really. She just lost a little color, a little vibrancy.

And with a pat of his arm, the contact was broken. He felt colder for it.

"I'll leave you alone now," she teased, giving him a wink, "Go rest you old bear."

Old bear. Guess I'll jus hafta live bein that.

And she sauntered off, as he watched her short and curvaceous form fade back into the table that seemed to miss her presence.

Marlene waved at him, with hands that were growing bigger every time he held her hand. There were some things worth holding onto, and they made all that he couldn't that much more bearable.

His little girl was going to be quite a heartbreaker some day... she'd learned from the best.