Standard Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII - not mine. Scarlet - not mine. Turks - not mine. And don't you think for a second that I don't hate some people because of that. *g*

The following story takes place after the events in 'Damnation and Redemption', and does include some allusions to both the Scarlet Scar and another fic I plan to write later on, based on a role-play session - likely after TSS concludes (if I can ever manage to get there). The title is a play on 'Idle Conversation'. Author's notes continue at the end.

I know you despise me. Believe me, the feeling is mutual.

Vincent would like you to believe that I was used; that Shin-Ra took advantage of me, of my talents, for their own purposes. Maybe they did. But don't ever think for a moment that I wasn't using them as well, that I wasn't taking advantage of what they gave me, what they made me into, for mine.

Don't ever think for a moment that I didn't want to do these things. Don't ever let anyone tell you I felt a twinge of guilt, because I didn't. The only regrets I have are that I couldn't finish what I started.

Don't give me your false sympathy; I don't want it. Don't pretend you understand. You don't. You can't. Don't pretend we can be friends, now that it's over. You know better. We may not be enemies anymore, but you will never be on my side. You will never be on my good side.

You made me what I am. More than any shower of gil, more than any Shin-Ra kiss - it was a promise, and you made it. The promise of revenge. I don't care if it wasn't your hand; I don't care if it wasn't your colleague, your friend, your father; I don't care if you don't know the man who shot mine - if you weren't even born. You're all the same. You dreamed of freedom, and took mine away.

I hate you. The day I betrayed you was the sweetest day of my life; when I sold you out for a ride on a Turk, a ride to the plate.

I loved your tears, though. I loved your tears, and your blood. I loved watching the sunrise out a highrise window while reports of the war filtered in; I loved knowing I was the one who made it happen. I would have danced on your grave if I'd been given the chance, and I'd do it now if I got it.

I wanted to send you there. I almost did.

And then you almost sent me to mine.

I hate you! You weren't satisfied with destroying the first half of my life; you had to go for the last, too! Taking my father wasn't good enough; taking my virtue and selling it to the highest bidder wasn't enough - I was a good girl, once; does that surprise you? It shouldn't. You made me this way. Taking the man I loved, no, you couldn't stop there, could you. You had to go for the only thing I had left - my Company.

Oh, it was mine; don't you ever doubt it. I may not have been there from the beginning, no; I may not have borne the name; but it was me who made them what they are - were. Without me, who knows how the war would have turned out? Without me, there would have been no materia-boosted weaponry, no Mako Cannon, no Sister Ray. Without me -

Curse me, curse me if you want, because you know it's true. And you know I curse you. I hate you, I hate you. Without you -

No, you made me who I am.

Should I thank you?

Author's Notes: When I started this, I had actually been working on the character profiles for my role-playing page; not trying for a fic. Scarlet had other ideas - she snatched the keyboard right out of my hands and started venting. What you see above is the result. Originally, her wrath had not been directed at anyone in particular - just a generic manifestation of those she blames for her situation. As it went on, however, I began to feel that her words were indeed aimed at a specific person. I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to whom that may be. I'm rather glad now she decided to take over; I've been wanting to work on the Chronicles again for a while, now, but my Muse is apparently taking an extended leave.
~Scarle