Late again. Um, I'm sorry? I knew what I wanted to happen in this chapter, but the chapter didn't want to do it. That's really all I got. That and I was in a really angsty mood so I worked on "Warrior in Heart" so that this "lighthearted" story wouldn't suffer from it.

One more thing: if you are worried about plot strings I have left loose, never fear. I actually have a list of them with conclusions for each one. Sorry if I accidently miss any (just stick in the comments if you have anything in particular you definitely don't want me to miss). I do my best.

Of the three beds, Denzel's lay in between the other two. Barret's massive bulk filled the bed nearest the door. Denzel had fallen asleep trying to stare through Barret, watching for Cloud to walk in. Denzel's muscles spased as he flinched away from the giant rat in his nightmare, and within seconds his eyes flew open. He stared through the darkness and sighed in relief when he realized where he was. Turning over, Denzel glanced at Cloud's bed. Empty. The clock clicked to 2:00AM, and Denzel frowned.

"Where are you?" he whispered aloud to Cloud's bed. As expected, nothing answered him.

Denzel lay still only a minute longer before snaking out of the covers. Putting on something more presentable and less embarrassing then the fuzzy chocobo themed pajamas Marlene had bargained for him last Christmas, Denzel quietly slipped out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway. He had forgotten his shoes, but this was the Gold Saucer. No one would notice.

Soon Denzel's bare feet took him to a place he shouldn't be: the Battle Square. Truthfully Cloud might have left and absconded to some other square or even left altogether, but Denzel had a feeling Cloud was tired of running away. Only a feeling, yeah, but Denzel's feelings tended to lead him in the right direction so he learned to trust them.

Walking into the Square proved easy enough. The old, worn carpet under his feet awakened him to sensations he hadn't experienced when Cloud showed him the place only the morning before. The course carpet guided him around contemplative BP spenders and squabbling drunkards vying for a female fighter's attention. Denzel kept from bumping into people until he made it to one of the open desks. Well, it wasn't open, but the person ahead of him was busy signing his life away on liability forms.

"Excuse me?" Denzel forced down a grimace when he realized the countertops were built so high for a reason.

The woman pushing forms at the other guy looked over the counter down at Denzel. "Hello, sweetie," she sounded surprised to see someone his age.

Denzel stood at his full height, not wanting to hear her talking down to him like he was some child. "I'm looking for Cloud Strife and Vincent Valentine. Are either of them here?"

The woman tossed a glance at the preoccupied man and shrugged imperceptibly. Denzel shifted from foot to foot as he waited for her to scan the list of contestants.

"Hm," she frowned. "Looks like you're out of luck."

Denzel's heart sank.

She went on, "Mr. Valentine's last registry was 11:25PM and Cloud Strife is currently in a battle."

"Really?" Denzel couldn't help the awe from shining through his worry. "Can I watch him?" he wondered aloud.

"Sorry, kid," the attendant snatched up the forms from the man and shoed him along without breaking eye contact with Denzel. "You look a bit young to be legal."

Denzel's stubbornness kicked in. "Cloud Strife is my father, and you can't stop me from watching his fights."

"Your father?!" the attendant squawked and paled instantly.

"Yeah, so what?"

The woman continued to stare for another moment before regaining control of herself. "I'm just surprised he's got kids is all. In any case, you still can't go in."

"Why?" Denzel insisted on dragging out the point.

"Protocol."

Now Denzel felt like throwing a tantrum, but he knew he'd look like a two year old, and he didn't want that. So instead he turned wordlessly away to find the entrance himself. If he had to, he would force his way in. At any cost Denzel would pull Cloud out of there and drag him back to his senses. Denzel didn't care if Cloud needed time to work out his emotions; Denzel needed Cloud around so the twists of worry in his stomach would go away. He needed Cloud, and he needed him now.

Despite what the lady had said about protocol and legal age limits only one person stood guard to stop people who hadn't paid the entry fee. Denzel mentally entertained different scenarios that would allow him entrance, but the problem solved itself thanks to the woman Denzel had seen the men admiring earlier. Apparently she had had enough and started a fight near the front doors. Denzel took immediate advantage of the guard's distraction and dashed through the double doors before anyone saw him.

He closed the heavy doors behind him and just stood for a moment. Denzel stared at the stadium. It was a lot for a sleepy, stubborn, worried boy to take in. Even this early in the morning elbow room looked obsolete and the volume of the crowd gave Denzel a headache. Fluorescent red lights dimly lit the alternately jeering and cheering people as they pressed their faces to the netted fencing separating them from the arena below. Instantly Denzel had to fight the pulsing urge of claustrophobia. Cloud's down there, he murmured to himself as a litany.

Slowly Denzel forced his lean frame through the jostling crowd until he made it to the front line where he could join others in pressing his palms and nose against the fence in an effort to see the fight better.

At first Denzel only saw Cloud staring down what looked like a tailed penguin in a priest's robe. They simply stood there watching each other. Confused Denzel listened to the crowd for clues on what was happening. Was Cloud okay? Did he need help? What was he looking at?

The chants of the crowd did little to help Denzel understand the situation. All he gathered was that everyone resented Cloud for being such a good fighter because the only blood shed was monster blood. In fact, Cloud looked hardly fatigued. If anything, his whole being appeared focused on the thing in front of him. It was like the noise and floodlights battering him from the sidelines simply bounced off him like they were nonexistent.

The longer Denzel stood watching the tighter his grip on the fence got. Cloud and the monster were doing nothing. Just standing. Then suddenly a cold steel hand closed on Denzel's shoulder.

Denzel gasped and yanked away before realizing Vincent had come behind him while he had been watching. Vincent looked at Cloud's taut figure before returning his eyes to Denzel. "You shouldn't be here."

… … … …

Cloud barely breathed. Underneath all that monster blood staining his shirt was blood of his own. It went without saying that Tonberries had some freaky body control. They moved around at a calm pace until close enough to strike, and every time they hit, the attacks were severe. Cloud knew the crowd had missed the Tonberry throwing out its knife in a vicious, twisting stab. Certainly the mako had already healed the worst of the cut and Cloud had shaken off the attack easily enough, but losing blood drained energy. And the fact that the Tonberry had hit him at all drained his confidence.

He was getting careless.

Cloud couldn't tell how long he had been fighting. If necessary he knew he could fight all night and all the next day if he had to, but that was because fighting was the one thing he was good at. In life he seemed to mess up everything else.

No, that wasn't true. He wasn't a good fighter either.

In Nibelheim, Cloud constantly had to run from bullies to avoid a beating. Then in the SOLDIER Academy, Cloud only managed to keep in the program long enough for them to let him know he wasn't good enough. When the world was going to fall apart, Cloud only managed to stymie Sephiroth the first time, not stop him. Sephiroth returned twice more to remind Cloud that he was a fai–

Abruptly, Cloud jumped forward, swinging First Tsurugi in a wide arc. In one powerful, angry swipe the Tonberry squelched and fell to the floor in two pieces.

Failure.

Cloud hated the word. It reminded him of everything wrong in his life so he avoided thinking that malevolent label. He limped to the back ledge, stomach stinging where the mako was working to heal him, and grabbed a waiting water bottle. Cloud swallowed the water slowly and let it cool the inside of his cheeks. He watched the clean-up crew haul away the dissolving carcass of the Tonberry.

Frowning to himself, a thought penetrated the mental walls shielding him. I killed it in one strike. I am a good fighter. But, ever the one to beat himself down, Cloud automatically protested, Yes, but I lashed out in anger. I'm uncontrollable, and I don't want to act like a monster when I get angry. The positive voice began to irritate him with the reminder, Your anger helped you defeat Sephiroth every time he challenged you.

Cloud didn't respond to that thought. Rather, he directed his eyes upward as a digital handicap reel spun on the screen. After seven seconds the reel stopped on the "all materia" handicap. That was okay. All Cloud had on him was a FullCure and a Comet, both mastered. Cloud rolled his tense shoulders and passed his materia over to the officers for safekeeping. One more fight and he could take a break. At this point he wasn't sure he wanted to stop. Life seemed easier when he kept moving even if the motion was aimless. It was easier than stopping to face the consequences of his actions.

Speaking of which…why did he have to take offense every time Tifa opened her mouth? It wasn't her fault; his emotions were jagged shards of glass. They cut both ways. It pained Cloud to admit it, but as soon as he left Tifa guilt had welled in his stomach. It hurt that Aerith had confided in Tifa about him, although Cloud wasn't sure why he felt that way. Because of that pain, Cloud felt justified for his actions, but a louder part of him shouted that Tifa hadn't meant offense by admitting she engaged in a stereotype girlish activity, namely: talking about boys.

Ripping Cloud away from his broody musings for a moment, the announcer overhead shouted out the arrival of the final monster: a Serpent. Cloud readied his sword and stepped toward the center of the Battle Square motto emblazoned on the floor: "The brave do not fear the grave."

Cloud took a second to sweep an assessing look over the monster. First he needed to get rid of the flapping fins keeping the torso airborne. Without those the monster would flail and Cloud could come in for a quick finish on either the skull or back.

With one focus, Cloud charged the monster. It lunged to meet him with a breath of icy air. He felt the sticky, almost sweet smelling breath rush through his hair. Ignoring the tiny prickling sensation on his skin, Cloud jumped around the monster's flapping fins that threatened to knock him down.

Tifa's probably really upset, a small voice scolded in the back of his mind. Cloud promptly told the voice to shut up; he was busy. Moments of insight and clarity often came to him mid-battle. It was like how most people got brilliant ideas in the shower, only more inconvenient because if Cloud didn't stay focused on swinging his sword he'd end up as a humanburger.

Cloud threw his weight into his swing as he swirled around to cut off the arm of the beast. Blood and body fluid of a horrid yellow-green color spouted from the Serpent's wound. Grimacing, Cloud frowned. Even with First Tsurugi there was no such thing as a clean cut. He ducked around the screaming monster to slice off the second fin.

You should apologize to her. His persistent conscience just didn't know when to take a hint. You said you were going to let go of the past.

Cloud growled aloud. Well, it's harder than just saying so. I can't help it if something hurts.

But you would never want to hurt Tifa, would you?

Cloud paused at that. The Serpent instantly seized Cloud's hesitation as a chance to attack and swatted Cloud with its tail to the far side of the arena. The crowd roared in a mess of screams and cheers. They called out for blood, but Cloud merely stood and shook his ringing head. Enhanced or not, hitting a wall head first always hurt.

But that didn't matter, because now he knew he had to forgive Tifa for her slip of words. He had to because if he didn't, he would be hurting her. That was the last thing he wanted. But it got worse; Cloud would have to forgive her in the future too because mistakes are inevitable in human nature.

The sooner the better, Cloud's infernal conscious reminded him.

Enough already, Cloud readied his sword, I get it. And anyway, "I'm tired of living in the past."

Cloud threw himself at the Serpent, laying on hits and blows till he was only a blur of movement. This was the last time he would run away. If Tifa wanted to dredge up the past, then fine! He would learn to take it because he didn't want to run away anymore. This would be the last time.

First Tsurugi gained a bluish green glow and Cloud's body was suddenly encased in the same light. A surge of energy rushed through his system. In one quick movement, Cloud impaled the monster before jumping into the air, First Tsurugi ripping through the length of the Serpent's body. Cries of disgust mingled with cheers at seeing Cloud finally use a limit break. Cloud barely heard them. As he turned away from the body, he allowed a tiny smirk. Releasing a limit break always helped relieve tension, and he needed that if he was going to face Tifa tomorrow.

Cloud must have walked to the Recovery Rooms in the back of the Battle Square, but he only remembered blinking and then suddenly finding himself slumped on a wall bench. His shirt was nearly ruined under monster blood and guts, but his pants might survive till the end of the trip. His hair was messier than usual, and though the cut the Tonberry had inflicted had healed, his side still itched and tingled from the added concentration of mako needed to pull the skin back together. He leaned tiredly on the hilt of his sword, the tip digging slightly into the floor. Now out of the fight, Cloud found himself washed over with dread. He never did much apologizing for anything to anyone – even Tifa.

Boy, was he in for it. Mentally, he prepared for a verbal lashing. Tifa, unfortunately, was good at delivering speeches like that to him. Normally he heard them when he came in particularly late or even scratched up. Yes, sometimes monsters did land hits on him. Rarely, but when they did they normally got him good. Except for that Tonberry. Cloud really needed to remember to focus on his battles. Maybe Zack's personality was slipping back into him like it did sometimes when Cloud got defensive or sensitive. He'd have to keep himself in check. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between himself and Zack though…

"Cloud!" a familiar, young voice shouted through the room to him.

Cloud glanced toward the front doors of the room. Only fighters entered that way, but the person walking to him was only a child. "Denzel?" Cloud glanced up at Vincent trailing disapprovingly behind Denzel like a bodyguard. Vincent merely inclined his head at Denzel, implicating that he was the instigator the plot. "What are you doing here?"

Denzel shifted on his feet. Cloud noticed his bare feet and rumpled hair. More conspicuous was the printed tag showing on the front of his inside out t-shirt. Whatever state of mind Denzel had been in when he had dressed, he hadn't been concerned about his appearance. That or he simply didn't notice.

For a moment Denzel stood chewing his lip. The worry and fear was so evident on his face that Cloud thought he was going to cry. He felt an urge to defend and protect Denzel from whatever had shaken him so much.

In a small voice, Denzel admitted, "I was worried you weren't coming back."

Cloud blinked.

Denzel was worried about him…not coming back?

Denzel was worried? About him?

Cloud stared for a long moment. He had caused the worry he saw in Denzel's eyes? It was his fault Denzel was up in the night lurking in places dangerous for someone so young. If Cloud wanted to stop that worry, if he wanted to stop hurting Denzel and Tifa and whoever else happened to care about what he did with his life, he needed to make a change. It couldn't start with apologizing to Tifa. It had to start now by comforting Denzel.

The boy trembled slightly the longer Cloud remained mute. After a minute of exchanging expressions, Cloud realized Denzel was analyzing him. Ruefully, Cloud thought that one day Denzel might have made a good Turk.

"You didn't have to worry."

Denzel only looked slightly relieved by that statement. "So, you're not going away again?"

Cloud frowned internally. He already wanted to back out, to run away and not commit himself to anything that might end in pain. If you love someone, you can lose someone. If nothing else, he had learned that much.

But he was done running. This life was worth the risk. He had done it before, after all, even if that was before Geostigma. But if he did it then, he could learn to stay close to home once more.

"I can't make any promises–" after promising to be a living legacy, Cloud didn't make promises anymore "–but I don't intend to." He offered a tired, sincere smile.

Denzel blinked and released a breath. Cloud saw the tears glaze over those innocent eyes and before Cloud realized it, Denzel had thrown himself into his sticky, bloody, arms. Denzel squeezed him tightly, and Cloud found himself too shocked to do react. After a moment, Cloud wrapped his arms around Denzel and hugged him reassuringly.

Having receiving that comfort, Denzel stepped back and tried to hide the few tears that had crossed his cheeks unbidden. In an effort to help Denzel hide his embarrassment, Cloud took the opportunity to ask Vincent how they had gotten into the room. The Recovery room was a waiting area for those who still had battles to fight. Once you were signed in the rules forced you to stay in the recovery room whenever you weren't fighting until all your registered battles were completed. No visitors allowed, and exiting before completing the allotted battles meant forfeiting. In essential, Denzel's presence in the room was a question begging an answer.

"Your friend let us in."

My friend? Like a light turning on, Cloud was suddenly aware of a young woman standing not too far behind Vincent. She stepped forward now and smiled at Cloud.

Cloud squinted at her for a moment before vague recognition fogged his mind. "I know you…" he muttered to himself, then suddenly realized aloud, "You were the lady talking to Marlene last night."

The woman nodded, obviously pleased he had noticed.

Almost as an afterthought, Cloud added, "And you're the one who does registration for the battles."

She smiled sweetly now that he truly remembered her. "I work in the Wonder Square now, but I traded shifts with a friend tonight. You just happened to come in before I did, otherwise I would have made sure to wish you luck before you went in. But since you're here now…Good to see you, Cloud."

Cloud blinked away the face of Sephiroth and managed not to grimace at her choice of words. In his mind he forced himself to forgive her unintended offence. Standing, he returned her greeting with a painful smile and a hum of acknowledgement. Rubbing a hand through his blood spattered spikes, Cloud watched Denzel wiping traces of blood from his own shirt from the brief embrace.

"Time for bed, kiddo," Cloud instructed and Denzel stopped fussing with his shirt immediately.

"You know," the woman tipped her head to pull Cloud's attention to her once more, "If you leave now, you forfeit–"

"I know," Cloud interrupted gently. "But I have more important places to be."

Eyes on Denzel, she nodded knowingly. "Alright then. At least let me check you out so you can have your tissues."

"Tissues?" Denzel frowned.

At the front desk, the woman presented Vincent and Cloud with four white handkerchiefs ("tissues") and Vincent with six, each piece of plain cloth representing a battle. As they walked out, Denzel fiddled with Cloud's tissues. "What's so special about them?"

"Absolutely nothing," Vincent replied smoothly.

Denzel frowned at the cloth in his hands. "Well, that's stupid. Why give them out if they serve no purpose?"

"Give them to Yuffie," Vincent suggested. "She's collecting supplies to take to Wutai, and I'm sure she'd appreciate them."

Denzel nodded, "Okay."

"Does anyone know you're up?" Cloud asked then.

With little shame in his voice, Denzel answered honestly. "No. Just you and Vincent."

"Okay," Cloud felt relieved to know that he hadn't inadvertently kept anyone else awake.

They walked in near silence for a while save for Cloud's squelching boots. They would need a careful scrubbing before all traces of blood were wiped off.

Without prompting, Denzel confided, "Tifa said she's going to be dating someone when we get home."

Vincent glanced over at Cloud who managed to keep his face neutral.

"She says his name's Johnny." Denzel peered up at Cloud with that deciphering look again. "Do you…know him?"

Cloud frowned now. Johnny, Johnny. He knew that name somehow. Cloud delivered packages to a lot of places, so knowing a Johnny would be no surprise, but to recollect one face in a million? "I don't know."

"He owns a café," Denzel supplied.

Something clicked in Cloud's mind, "Oh, Johnny's Heaven. Yeah, I've delivered there before." He paused a moment as his memory slowly filled the blanks. Johnny was a kind, mildly charming guy with a naturally shabby appearance. Not that Tifa would mind that. She was good enough to see heart before looks. "He's a nice guy."

Both Denzel and Vincent were watching Cloud now – Denzel openly while Vincent observed subtly from the corner of his eye. But that was all Cloud said on the matter.

Vincent dared to comment. "Perhaps it's for the best. Someone like her shouldn't be lonely. Tifa has a good heart."

Cloud nodded mutely in agreement.

Back in the hotel room, Denzel snuggled into a tight ball under his heavy blankets. A light in the bathroom shined directly in his eyes, but he preferred it that way. Cloud had to shower and dig out his spare outfit since his current set was temporarily ruined. Denzel intended to wait until Cloud came out again, not that he doubted Cloud meant it when he said he was going to stay. Denzel just felt safer knowing Cloud was around. Denzel missed his dad sometimes, and even though Cloud couldn't make up for that hurt, his presence eased the pain a little.

It was a little after 3:00AM when Cloud finally dragged himself onto his own bed. He flopped on the mattress and lay on his back with the blankets off. Denzel turned over slowly as if asleep so he could face Cloud, and even though Cloud seemed aware he was awake, he didn't say anything about it. Denzel watched him till his eyelids closed of their own will. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the abyss of a pleasant, dreamless sleep was Cloud's soft, broken voice whispering into the darkness.

"I did it, guys. I'm committed. But what do I do now? What do I do if she doesn't want me to stay?"

I intended this to be a short chapter with a happier ending, but I am cursed with an inability to write cheerfully. Everything I write must end in sadness, despair, and destruction. Happy, lighthearted stories that I commit to require a lot of self-discipline on my part. This chapter and the last weren't too great in the "happy" department, but according to my outline, that'll change shortly.

-Dante