Nostalgia

Barret knows that he is never going to be the most popular guy, or will ever be. He knows that even though his friends love him in their own way, there is never any real kind of understanding or real feeling of kinship amongst them. Most just think of him as a crude black man, with a penchant for swearing and violence and never really give any real thought as to who he actually is underneath his gruff exterior.

It hasn't really bothered him during the crisis, or rather, he should say both of them. There had been more important things to think about, more important things to remember. With Aeris' death hanging over their little group of misfits, he had forced himself never to lose hope, never to lose sight of the goal that a kind flower girl had given her life for.

He owed her far too much to be so selfish as to focus on his own personal insecurities. She had put the safety of his daughter above her own, and had made sure that Marlene had gotten away to safety but had paid the price herself by getting captured, risking her precious freedom and even worse, putting herself in the hands of Hojo.

Sometimes though, especially now, when they're forced together in one of Tifa's impromptu parties, he feels as if he is one of the most maligned individuals in the group, second only to a damned robot. But there are other times when he becomes aware that it isn't as if he is the only one who is completely misunderstood.

Like now.

Cloud sits alone, flicking through television channels but not really paying attention to what's on the screen. At last he seems to settle on something, a light of recognition in his eyes. Barret has seen this before, or at least he knows that it happens to be one of Cloud's favourites. It doesn't interest him and for a time, he had thought that this particular show would be Cid's sort of thing, since it's set in space. When he had asked, Cid had merely shrugged and said that his dream had been lived and that it was time he find something else to dream about.

He watches from the doorway as Cloud laughs at something he just can't wrap his head around. It's weird though, because Barret, with all the sense of a leader that could-have-been notices that even though Cloud's laughing, in his eyes there's something else.

Frowning, he sits down beside spike-haired kid, because Cloud's better to talk to then that &£%*ing vampire and he doesn't feel in the mood for cleaning up this time around.

'Why do you like this shit?' he asks after a respectable length of time, after he's stared at the screen in confusion for ten minutes or so.

Cloud says nothing and Barret thinks that perhaps the blond hasn't heard him. He's surprised therefore, when he gets an answer out of the blue.

'I don't. But it brings back memories.'

A shock of black hair and laughing blue eyes flashes briefly in Barret's mind. He nods. Nothing else needs to be said.

He sits there for a little while longer before he thinks it's polite to leave, knowing the sanctity of precious recollections.

He heads to the kitchen, which still has cups and glasses scattered everywhere and picks up a half empty bottle of scotch. He methodically puts some ice in the glass and pours himself out a drink.

'Memories, huh?' he questions, voice uncharacteristically soft. He toasts the air, face morose. Ice clinks against the glass as he drinks the amber liquid.

'Here's to you,' he growls,. Voice husky from the burn. And perhaps from something else. Maybe. He's not sure.

He thinks of his precious Marlene, with her dark hair and trusting eyes. He sucks down the last of the scotch, as a familiar face hovers in his mind's eye.

'Dyne...'