. . . Chorophobia . . .

Third Stanza: Reeve Rabczowski

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

- Wallace Stevens Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Reeve was a mingler, despite many people's impressions that he was socially inept. If they knew what Shinra had been, they would know that the socially inept didn't last long. There was a certain beauty to laying low, to saying nothing with a smile. With his neatly trimmed hair and beard, and otherwise unremarkable appearance, he'd managed to live while all the others had gone up in flames. The ideal employee was just a shadow of a person, a glimmer of a conversation.

Of course, in many ways, he was socially inept. Only a very observant person would notice that he never started a conversation on his own. That he avoided most social occasions altogether. His true personality was reclusive; tinkering with ideas and toys. He liked the company of children, however. They were so free of adult ideas and worries. They just talked with you because they wanted to.

Especially little Marlene. Who wasn't so little anymore, from the striking conversation they had been having.

"Mr. Reeve, why aren't you dancing?" she asked, swinging her legs as she sat in the chair. She was always a petite child, he noted, even now. She probably wouldn't grow much higher than five feet or so.

"Oh, I just don't feel like it," he replied, absently pulling at the hair on his chin. She giggled.

"But everyone likes dancing!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms, "You're probably just scared." He gave her a mock look of incredulity. He actually knew how to dance, someone had taught him a long time ago how to dance... he just didn't want to remember, maybe. No, he didn't feel like it, truly. And he had no partner.

"But who would I dance with, hmm?" he said, with a tone that made her frown for a moment. He could tell she was thinking... she was quite a clever girl. She tapped her chin and knitted her eyebrows, as she scanned the crowd.

Maybe he had her. There were no ladies for him to dance with. Cid didn't let anyone dance with Shera, Tifa was dancing with Barret at the moment, and Yuffie... well, he didn't want to go there. She and Cloud were still creating a disturbance, to say the least.

Then Marlene started giggling, and Reeve knew that she had a plan.

"Me, silly!" she said between giggles, "Daddy won't mind. He says you aren't Shinra scum anymore." Reeve laughed at her honesty. She certainly had a way with words. He glanced over at Barret, who was swinging around with Tifa, smiling wider than Reeve had seen in awhile.

Marlene tugged at his hand, and they were up. She preferred twirling around him, one hand gripped with his, and he helped spin her. He ended up not doing much dancing himself, mostly watching out for potential collisions, and keeping near the table. He was sure that Barret would come back sometime soon. And before the song even ended, he led her back, smiling that she had won yet another dance partner.

She sat down and waved, seeing that Barret was free. He didn't come and join them however, and Reeve could see the beginnings of a pout in her lips. But then she turned her attention to their table mates, whom Reeve had forgotten. He was back in a place he was comfortable; in the background.

Their laughter echoed in his mind, fading into the hum that his brain created when he was left to his own thoughts. He'd never been one for the music they played at such parties, in fact, he much preferred the newer things that he'd heard just outside of clubs he thought of walking in. Of people he thought of meeting. A technological buzz of rhythm and sounds that only the electric and artificial inventions of man had made. Real instruments were too organic; he needed something that was as much of a machine as he was.

A machine. Who had given him that title? Oh, her of course. But she didn't matter anymore. She was finally free; death did such things for the wicked.

"Uncomfortable too?" a voice spoke from his elbow. He blinked and realized it was just Nanaki. The beast still startled him once in a while, even though he knew that he was intelligent. Some things one never did get fully used to.

"Just thinking," Reeve replied, as Nanaki shifted to more comfortable lounge, "I'm glad things have settled down. Everyone seems a little happier now." Nanaki's tail curled into a question mark shape; a relaxed and careful form.

"Perhaps," he replied, and yawned, "But you humans have an odd way of celebrating. This dancing, and mingling, and chatting... seems a waste of time to me."

Why were parties so dull? Why did he always feel so out of the loop? Was the background such a good place anymore?

"You're right," Reeve murmured, staring off into space, "Odd traditions, I suppose. But there is certainly something special about the dancing..."

She'd been bored when she taught him. She was perpetually bored. Scarlet, the witch, the harlot, the weapons specialist... had been a wonderful dancer. Her specialty was the tango, an intimate and risqué dance the encompassed all that he knew about her. A tease, a temptress, a coldly intelligent woman. Each step was precise and calculated, each move flowed with the rustle of her silk dress; she practiced with him, honing the skills she would use to make a kill. She had trusted him because he feared her. He trusted her because...

She was there. And listened. Probably plotting my downfall, but we can have our illusions. Maybe I did care, Scarlet. You used to be so clever.

"My kind do not have such things," Nanaki said, with a twitch of his ear, "Maybe you could tell me about it?" The beast was still a child in many ways, that was something Vincent had told him once in passing. But Reeve was still a child himself.

"It depends on the company," Reeve began, pulling on his beard, "Different people mean different interactions."

Marlene always twirled in his mind like a ballerina in a music box. A timeless piece of innocence; a reminder of a world that hadn't ended.

"Some are friendly, some are obligatory," he recited, a tired and old song he sang with speeches and orders, "And some are more intimate. Very few people ever experience that." Nanaki smirked in that strange feline manner.

Always in red, perpetuating an image that allowed her seamless access into all their lives. She had approached him at usually dull party, and he grudgingly waltzed with her, feeling bored and alone. Later it was swaying to relaxed tunes with similar steps.

But he'd always remember the way she tangoed, kicking her spike heels in the air, and throwing back her head, splaying that bright blond hair. That look in her icy blue eyes as she finally got someone's attention. That was all he was for, a partner to attract the others. It always worked because she looked so beautiful when she tangoed... she looked free of the restraints she had given herself...

I need to break free of you, Scarlet. Of all those past lives and faces.

"So it's not much different that most human interaction?" Nanaki asked, a bemused expression across his features. He probably saw the dark look in Reeve's face when memory flooded in. He'd been with the devil on enough occasions, and he knew that the devil had so many faces...

"No, not much different at all," he said, looking him straight in the eye, "Surely there is something you can relate to there?" The cat nodded, with a knowing glance.

"In time," he said, and stretched, "For now, I'll just watch." And he padded off, ears perked forward curiously as he made his way to the table where Barret sat alone.

I have to stop this hiding... I can't keep this up anymore, this silly charade.

And he got up from the table. Slowly he walked to the middle of the floor. Slowly he raised his arms in the air. And then the music he always listened to pulsed in his head.

He began a fast and crazed dance to a beat he worked to. A fast and flailing dance. One that left many people staring...

Here I am! The clown, the spy, the outsider!

He was the only one moving, and he loved it; his heart was pounding, his breath was quick in his throat. He tried every move that he wanted to let everyone see, every move he had taught himself. No more archaic steps with a partner. This was a frantic and fast and solo art.

And abruptly he stopped, seeing that everyone was staring at him. And he bowed, grinning like mad.

Marlene was clapping and laughing, and soon the others joined with scattered applause. It was Cloud who approached him first, a bewildered look on his face.

"What was that?" the former leader asked, with a slight whisper of admiration. Reeve smiled.

"Break dancing," he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow, "Just something I picked up one day. Maybe not appropriate..."

"Could you teach me how to do that?" he asked quickly and then cleared his throat, "Some other time..."

He never knew the reasons why he did the things he did. He'd been on so many different sides for so many different causes. But he didn't really feel like worrying about it so much anymore. His inner self was still a child; foolish at best.

Maybe he just needed to break out.

"Sure," he replied, trying to contain his grin, "We need better music anyway."