It was a weird thing…a friend of mine and I were IMing one day and she brought up the fact that Cloud looks like he has Vincent's cape and claw in Kingdom Hearts. I thought about it and was like, "Wow…he does…weird." And she got to wondering how it was he got that way in the first place when ZING! It happened. I was like, "Great story idea!" and so we decided to do it. Basically, we kind of alternate chapters, but most of Vincent's behavior will be totally her fault, while I get to use Cloud as my own personal puppet. (holds back evil laugh)

Anyway, that's what's going down in Chinatown. And now for the traditional disclaimer:

Disclaimer: Neither myself nor my colleague own any of the characters from FFVII mentioned in this story. Between the two of us, we have two video games, two copies of the same movie, a wall scroll, a wooden shuriken, and our own twisted fantasies. That is all we own. Sad, but true. Enjoy!

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Cloud sat in the corner of a dimly-lit room, slumped against the wall with one knee to his chest. Across from him was a small bed and bedside table. The room was almost barren, save for a few strategically-placed items. His buster sword leaned against the wall next to the bed, just close enough for him to grab if he should be attacked unexpectedly. On the bed was a small knapsack containing a few of his personal items.

He sighed and lifted himself up onto his feet, lethargically making his way over to the bed. He sat on the bed and reached for the bag, pulling it onto his lap. He opened it carefully, as if it was something fragile and precious that could easily shatter in his hands. He pulled a thin strip of soft pink ribbon from it, threading the ribbon through his fingers thoughtfully. He ran his thumb over the ribbon once more before tying it to his arm and turning his attention back over to the sack before him.

Reaching in, the blond pulled out a set of clothes: a navy-colored turtleneck and large navy pants. Though he no longer wore the clothing, he could remember the day he acquired them like it had happened the day before. It no longer plagued his dreams as it once had, but the wound still felt raw. He looked at his sword leaning against the wall, remembering the one it reminded him of still stuck in the ground somewhere.

He set the clothes aside and reached into the bag again, this time leaving his hand in the bag, as if he was unwilling to remove the remaining items. After a few moments, he slowly withdrew an arm-like brass gauntlet with a claw hand and a large, very worn, crimson-colored cloak. An audible sigh left his mouth; this time, it was closely followed by a single tear down the side of his face. He bit his lip and stared at the articles for some time before speaking.

"Vincent," he said gently, as if saying the name alone was a task of great difficulty. He placed the items back into the sack, all except the red cloak, which he held close as he sprawled out on the bed. He ran his hand over it gently, closing his eyes as if to remember something. He opened his eyes and drew his brows together.

"Just another ghost to follow me around." he remarked sounding almost bitter. The once-hero's disposition went from anger to grief in a matter of seconds as he struggled to contain a sob, causing his body to shake violently. A tight knot formed in his stomach and he curled up in the fetal position, burying his tear-stained face into the rough, heavy fabric of the cape-like object. His breathing became slower and more shallow as he fell asleep, his last thoughts before succumbing to exhaustion being the last words he'd spoken to his fallen comrade, right before his passing.

"No Vincent, you can't…no…this isn't fair. Everyone I've ever loved has died. Being around me will…kill you."