Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of it's characters, etc.

I know I said I was taking a break for a little while. But finding it hard to concentrate on revision etc. I decided I might as well channel my restlessness into productivity. So this is what I produced, something completely different to anything I had ever intended to do. But I did enjoy writing it. So don't be scared to tell me what you thought, good and bad.

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"You were my hero you know."

The youth threw back another scotch double, sniffed, and rubbed his stubble. His long legs were cramped under the stool but he remained hunched over the sticky bar-top. His elbows were going numb but he still leaned heavily on the forearms that rested in front of him, his shaky hands cupped around the glass.

"Yeah, OK. So you didn't have the red cape and tights, and you sure as hell couldn't fly…but you were my hero." Denzel lowered his voice, realising what he was about to say sounded utterly pathetic, "You were the one who rescued me when I thought no-one else would come." He chanced a sidelong glance at the intent listener, knowing or maybe just hoping he'd struck a chord.

There was no outward change but for the blonde's eyes dropping to his own drink.

He quickly returned to watching the brick wall behind the bar. The man he had held in reverence throughout his childhood had not changed and that hurt. Just watching Cloud made him realise the reason he had spent so many miserable days in silence and so many years hurting was because he had blinded himself from the truth.

Cloud had always been the same, Cloud would never change. And when he looked at this ever-growing rift between them he could see it was just time. He was older, wiser, and experience had taught him the hard way. Years of distance had cleaned the bewitched spectacles of a young hero worshipper and handed them to a more than disappointed adult.

Ed, the bartender, refilled the glasses. He gave an awkward glance at Cloud and set the half-empty bottle of single malt at Denzel's elbow. Denzel allowed a moment to pass before bitterly laughing, "And all this time I blamed Tifa." The comment was chased with another swig and it burned the whole way down. He had mentioned the 'T' word and wasn't surprised to see he'd now gotten Cloud's attention.

But he didn't turn, he was going to make this difficult for Cloud.

Some drunk was shouting in the background, the waitress was trying to calm him down and the smoky air stung his eyes. He could hear the thoughts that were going through Cloud's mind. The excuses he was making for himself, just as Denzel had made excuses for him for all those years.

His jaw twisted and he set the glass down with such force that the drink sloshed onto the bar. He saw Cloud wince.

"Yes, I'm angry." He said. "I blamed her all these years. I screamed and I cried and I told her I hated her. I told her it was her fault. That she shouldn't have been so clingy, should have loved you more."

He quietened, "I blamed the one person who ever understood me. I told someone I loved beyond a doubt, the only woman I could ever call 'mother' that I hated her."

He was ashamed, angry and frustrated. "I told her I wished she was dead."

As Denzel closed his eyes a tear slipped down his cheek. He knocked back another drink and choked on an involuntary gasp to steady himself.

Cloud said nothing, just looked at his drink. Denzel knew that he hadn't a clue what to do, what to say; he never did.

The whisky caught awkwardly in his throat, so his question came as a half-spluttered croak. "Do you know who I should have blamed?" He looked back at Cloud over his shoulder.

He was sitting limp, back off from the bar. He didn't even look at Denzel when he answered, just kept staring at the glass. Anything and everything else. "Me."

"Oh suck it up." Denzel snapped. "Your wrong. Not you for once, you self-absorbed prick. Not anyone else. Me."

Cloud forgot his role as pitiable fool and met Denzel's glare. "What?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I taking your spotlight?" Denzel shook his head, laughed to himself and took another gulp. "That's right. I said me. I suppose I shouldn't expect you to understand, it must be strange for the blame not to lie on your shoulders."

He tapped the bottom of the glass on the bar-top.

"Tell me, how does it feel?"

Cloud didn't answer, and fell back into his silence. Back to playing his part.

Denzel laughed bitterly again. "That was always the problem Cloud. Everything was always your fault. How honourable of you to take the blame… or was it something else? A selfish desire to be the centre of attention perhaps?"

Cloud opened his mouth to protest but Denzel beat him to it. "I don't care what your reasons are, we can't change the past." When the blonde looked up hopefully he added, "But we can't forget about it either."

He sniffed and set the glass down gently, searching his pockets for the correct Gil.

"So if you didn't want to make up, why bother asking me to meet you?" The anger caught Denzel off guard and he stopped briefly before setting the spillage of coins on the counter.

"I don't know, maybe I was just curious to see if you would actually come this time." At cloud's expression he gave an indignant snort. "Don't flatter yourself. You know I've been trying to get hold of you for the past six years."

"And I must say I'm surprised you actually showed this time." He added.

Cloud 's face flushed, and Denzel grinned to see it was with anger. "So when did-"

Denzel interrupted him again. "Six months after you left for the final time."

"How?"

"When you left the last time, she went after you… because I asked her to." He said softly. "She must have been gone for a good few hours before I called Barret. By the time they found her, she had bled to death." Another tear slipped down his cheek.

"Shot." He said simply, laughing and crying. "Shot because the bastard needed enough money to pay his dealer and she didn't stand a chance. The coward was too far away."

Cloud's face fell, "She died because of me…"

"Wrong again, dipshit. She died because of me."

"But I-"

"She didn't give a damn about you no more. I knew she didn't. She was too strong, too independent, and after a while she even stopped crying when you left. The only time I seen her cry was when… I started shouting at her again."

Silence.

"So don't you dare think you had anything to do with her death. Don't you dare use her memory to add to your list of 'sins'." He finished angrily, jerking his arms into a wrinkled, half soaked jacket.

"Because of you the last thing my mother ever heard me say-" He choked. "The last thing she ever heard was me yelling that I hated her. That it was all her fault… that I wished she was dead." The tears were streaming steadily from his eyes, but he didn't care, he had waited so long for this.

Cloud looked up, completely indifferent to Denzel's tears. "Do you hate me? Is that what you came to tell me?"

Denzel stood up. A giddy burst of laughter bubbled through his tears. "I can't believe this! I tell you something I've never told anyone before, something I have regretted and will regret for the rest of my life and what do you do? You think of yourself!"

"Everything I've said and you blame yourself. I shouldn't be surprised, I knew you'd never change."

Small spirals of steam rose from the damp coat around his shoulders. He looked Cloud squarely in the eyes, intent to get his message across. "What I came here to tell you was that I don't hate you. But I don't love you either. I came to say that I stopped caring along time ago about which one I felt more."

He had said what he needed to say. And without a backward glance Denzel walked out the door, leaving Cloud alone in the bar.