Tobi: Heeeeey! Alright: Shirosenshi Kisetsu 116 was 550th, and Orbiting Gravity was 600th. You guys are AMAZING. This chapter's freakishly long; I hope you enjoy it! (Heh heh heh...)

CM: Thanks for all the reviews guys! All you silent readers make sure you review this chapter ok? Just this one. Tobi and I wanna know how many real readers we have. :D You all should be proud of me. I replied to everyone this time! *phew* If i did skip you that was unintentional. Now go read! This chapter is packed!

If his mother could have heard what he was muttering under his breath as he sped through Nibelheim, she would've washed his mouth out with soap. She had been a kind, pleasant woman, but when she got angry, you ran. But she was dead, and Cloud was free to do what he liked.

People were staring. They were either completely ignored or fiercely glared at, and the stares eventually stopped. He really couldn't deal with anyone's crap right now.

Nibelheim was small. Cloud needed things. What he needed he couldn't buy in his new town, and he was forced to drive to the nearest place with a population with more than five thousand.

As he rode, Cloud avoided looking down at his precious bike. It was too depressing. What was worse was that he could feel them against his legs—those evil, satanspawn jolly ranchers! Fucking stupid candies!

Cloud risked a glance down, heart constricting painfully. His poor bike. He had saved up for years to afford a basic—but still pretty awesome—motorcycle and had done all the other modifications by himself. Fenrir was his pride and joy.

And his ghosts had ruined it.

This meant war.

His inner rage grew and grew as people in the little city he made it to snickered at him. This wasn't anywhere near as big as Midgar, and he acutely missed his old home as he entered the parking lot at some big store that boasted that they sold Everything—from Apples to Zippers! Pretty lame fucking slogan, if you asked him.

He parked Fenrir, shot it a mournful look and swept into the store. It was warehouse-ish on the inside, with a gross, destroyed ceiling that he supposed was supposed to make you think that they were cheap and had low prices.

He beelined for a back section, staring at the wide selection before him. He didn't know what to look for, exactly; he'd need help.

Stretching slowly, Cloud raised his hands to the ceiling after sticking his hands in his pockets and tugging his jeans down far enough so that the whiteness of his briefs poked out. A confused expression slowly crossed his face.

Cloud looked back and forth a little, absentmindedly running a hand along his stomach. He pushed his shirt up, tried to look helpless and resisted the urge to smile when an eager voice asked, "Can I help you with anything, Sir?"

There was a young female employee standing in front of him, and another two peeking out from behind a cardboard display.

Reno was an awful, disgusting person that he hoped he never met again, but Cloud couldn't deny that he was good with the ladies. He gave a foxy (but kind and open—people always said that his manners and thoughtfulness were completely adorable) smile.

"Hello, beautiful," he flattered. She went pink, and the blond made sure to 'accidentally' show some more skin. "I'm looking for some things, and I need some help…"

Twenty minutes later Cloud left with one big bag in his hand and four phone numbers in his pocket. He couldn't wait to put his purchases to use—this was certainly going to be a day to remember.

There was a cluster of girls surrounding Fenrir, giggling and snapping pictures with their cell phones. Cloud stiffened and went still with rage for a moment, then let a flirtatious smile bleed back onto his face.

He could be a real ladies' man when he wanted to be, but stick him in front of a handsome man and he was a shy, blushing, stuttering idiot. Reno had thought that was cute and had turned his charm on him one day, and—

Don't think about him.

"Can I help you ladies?" Cloud purred, swaying over to his ride.

One busybody stopped fingering one of the candies stuck to the paint and turned; so did the others. Cloud flashed them all a bright smile and said to the busybody, flicking his spikes out of his eyes, "What's your name?"

"Candi," she said after a moment, shooting one of her friends a look.

Cloud put his bag in the storage compartment, swung a leg over Fenrir and looked her in the eye. He gestured down at his bike and said in a husky voice, "I love candy."

Then he was gone, throwing a wink over his shoulder before speeding out of the parking lot. He heard one or maybe all of them squeal as he pulled away.

White teeth ground together as soon as he was back on the road. He had been so angry, but he knew he could either get mad and blow up at them, or save his anger for what currently resided in his new home.

The ride back seemed much shorter than it did the other way. His impatience and excitement might have been why.

Cloud wasn't stupid. Fenrir was a loud bike. He didn't drive it all the way up to the house; he parked it in the woods and made his way to the house on foot. He plopped his helmet on his head and made sure to stick his keys in his pocket so no freaks could make off with his bike while he was busy. He moved quietly; he needed the element of surprise.

His sheet ladder was still hanging out the window. Cloud carefully made his way up it, making sure not to make any noise. If his ghost saw him now, he doubted he'd be able to pull this off.

Cloud crawled in the window, pulled up his ladder and spread his things out on the bed. Pillows—he needed pillows… he scampered down the hall and grabbed them off of each bedroom he came across (he didn't take Hojo's, though. Ick).

Downstairs, Sephiroth heard Cloud's footsteps as he ran around. He didn't think anything of it, though; that boy was far too paranoid for his own good. (However, Cloud probably was that way because of them, he noted absently.) He'd run away from his own shadow.

The rope Cloud had taken from the shed was thin, but seemed to hold up well enough. He laid his bike helmet and everything else in order in groups, preparing to put his plan into action. He gravely put Sebastian in a dresser drawer, murmuring, "You've gotta sit this one out, buddy. I'll come back for you. Hopefully."

Once the drawer closed, Cloud set his jaw, offered a quick prayer to the Gods and got down to work.

Genesis often pretended to be completely annoyed at Zack's puppy-like behavior. That was a lie, of course—he was just happy that Zack had held onto so much of his innocence after everything Hojo did to them.

Zack was chattering about some reality show he had seen in private last night in some room with a television. And even though his ears were almost ready to fall off for real this time, without acting, Genesis did not complain.

"So then Jenny said to Brian, 'she's my sister!' And I was like 'ohhhh noooo, Brian's so fucked.' But then Angela slapped Allison, and Brian—"

He cut himself off, staring up the main staircase at something. Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal curiously followed his gaze.

A spiky marshmallow bellowed something and ran down the stairs, a plastic bag and a motorcycle helmet in its hands.

The Invisibles stared and followed as the fast-moving blob sprinted by them and into a comfortable, open room in the middle of the first floor, kind of near the kitchen. Cloud tipped a couch over, piled its cushions around him haphazardly and darted around, chucking cushions and pillows from couches and chairs in the other rooms onto the growing pile. Pillows were tied to his body with a length of thin rope that cris-crossed his chest, arms and legs. It was the most pathetic armor any of them had ever seen.

Five minutes later found Cloud crouched behind the couch in a makeshift fort. His blue eyes were narrowed as he looked around the room, slowly enough that it actually felt like he was staring at them. The blond glared, picked up the helmet and smashed it onto his head, pulling down the visor.

A black metal tube then appeared; it was the barrel of a medium-length gun that rested against the couch. Cloud gripped it and hunkered down for battle.

"Do your worst," came a slightly muffled voice, hard and strong and not sounding at all like the voice of the scared crybaby who had been living with them.

Cloud meant business.

The Invisibles cracked up. He looked so serious!Really, a normal boy against four Mako-enhanced, Invisible SOLDIERs. He didn't stand a chance, and yet he was going to try.

"Aww," Genesis cooed in a fake, high-pitched voice. "The kitten is trying to kill us! How cute!"

The boy looked completely ridiculous, covered in pillows and hiding behind a bunch of cloth and stuffing, but he looked serious. And that gun… what was it, exactly? It didn't look like anything they had seen before.

Angeal was closest. He communicated with the others through eye contact and gestures, then silently started towards Cloud.

The boy was on his knees, obviously listening intently for any noises. Angeal could see his eyes through the visor—they were narrowed suspiciously and swiveling in their sockets, gazing all over the room and into the rooms that opened into the one they were in.

The tallest man in the room crouched beside the makeshift fort of softness and peered at the gun. It didn't look that threatening—in fact, it almost looked like a toy… what the hell was this kid trying to pull?

He grinned reassuringly at his three heartily amused lovers, reaching out a little to take it away from the young man. His knee bumped into one of the pillows, and it fell over. Angeal froze for a second, and then Cloud whirled around and fired a shot point blank at the man's face.

For a beat, Sephiroth, Zack and Genesis's hearts stopped. Then they realized Angeal was still very much alive, and that green was all over his jaw and cheek.

A paintball gun?

Cloud had frozen too, surprised that he had actually hit his ghost. Then he recovered, and all hell broke loose.

Angeal was smacked in the face repeatedly with a fly swatter that had been pulled out of the plastic bag. He threw his arms up to defend against the furious onslaught, hearing Zack yell in a voice almost drowned out by helpless sobs of laughter, "What the fuck?"

Cloud screamed and hollered as he beat the shit out of his ghost. This might be his only chance… his only chance to beat this thing and defend his home! He kept an eye on that splatter of floating green paint, aiming for it with each whack of the fly swatter. For two bucks, that had been a very good purchase.

The paint suddenly zoomed away, and he only hit air. Cloud dove for the gun.

Genesis was on his knees, crying a little as he laughed. The kid—that ridiculous, stupid little kid—had totally gotten Angeal. "W-Wash it off," he gasped, pointing a shaking finger at Angeal's jaw. Cloud was still blasting away at Angeal with his gun.

"Way ahead of you," Angeal mumbled, embarrassed and just barely avoiding the paintballs that were flying straight at him. It hadn't hurt, and neither had the fly swatter, but his pride had been wounded a little.

…Dammit, that kid was good.

When the green paint's disappearance told him his ghost had left (for now), Cloud gripped his gun tighter and let his ears do the seeing for him. It would come back. He needed to focus, focus, focus…

Holding back laughter, Genesis covered his mouth and looked at Sephiroth and Zack. Sephiroth had his eyes closed and was shaking his head slowly.

Genesis knocked twice on an end table, just as an experiment. Cloud frowned, and Genesis's chest was struck with a yellow paint ball; two more quickly followed the first.

Cloud bellowed and opened fire.

It didn't hurt Genesis much. But, he wasn't happy about being pelted. Zack was laughing at him, telling him to run away.

Genesis Rhapsodos did not run away.

Cloud grit his teeth and kept firing at the blob of paint in the next room. He had made sure to make his fort in a room that was openly connected to three more in one big, long strip. He waited and listened for more movement.

Sephiroth, who was inching towards Cloud so he could grab the gun, hissed, "Genesis!"

Genesis dodged a flying paintball, pushed Zack away from a stray one and sighed loudly. He skittered to the side, heading out of the open part of the house and seeking cover somewhere where he wasn't in Cloud's line of fire.

Cloud stood and hurtled after him. He went right past Sephiroth, who had just been about to snatch the gun away.

Genesis paled as the helmeted, pissed off marshmallow-boy sprinted for him, firing and hitting him almost without fail.

Zack swore and chased them out of the room. Sephiroth followed, managing to absently praise Cloud's shooting skills and wish that a Cadet had had his shooting skills way back when.

Cloud continued to shoot as he chased after the blob of floating paint. With every shot that connected with whatever had been hunting, he felt a little bit happier, a little bit less…sane. He tried to keep it together (No, he wouldn't be driven crazy by this stupid thing) and just focused on shooting.

By now almost hysterical with amusement and even a little panic, Zack called to Genesis, "Take your clothes off!"

Genesis protested, then realized that Cloud would continue to shoot if he could tell where he was because of the paint. Sephiroth knocked over a vase, drawing Cloud's attention away from the redhead for a moment, and Genesis stripped.

Cloud opened fire where the vase had been, and Sephiroth was almost instantly coated in pink. It was matted in his hair, and was a perfect target for Cloud, who kept shooting at it.

Sephiroth grabbed a handful of his hair, looked at it and sent Cloud an anguished look. The ex-General pulled a "strategic retreat," going around Cloud so he couldn't see and then quickly rushing to the bathroom Angeal was in while Cloud's back was to him.

It wasn't until Cloud was done firing randomly everywhere that he stopped and thought. Something wasn't right. There had been something over there, and there, and earlier there had been— Cloud gasped, finally understanding.

He didn't have time to think about it though, shooting a few more times. He gave a mental shrug and stomped up and down on the pile of paint now on the floor. He'd have to wash his sneakers later. He paused, then, stepping away and crouching.

He fisted the paint mess and… something else, too. He could feel something like jeans in his hand. He couldn't see it, though.

…Invisible clothing?

Cloud's first instinct was to shy away and go hide, but he stubbornly pushed those feelings aside. He had to stand up to this thing if he wanted to live a normal life, invisible human experiment or ghost or spirit or poltergeist in his home or not!

Out of paintballs!

The blond sprinted back to the safety of his fort to reload, leaving behind a snickering Zack and a very unhappy Genesis.

Genesis crossed his arms. He didn't mind his nudity—heh, the others certainly didn't mind it, either—but it was a bit cool in the mansion that day, and he would have preferred to be clothed.

"Why can't we kill him?" he asked grumpily.

"We can't kill him. He had yet to make a 'serious' attempt to harm us. This hardly—why are you naked?"

Angeal had returned from the bathroom, skin and facial hair still a little wet. He was staring at Genesis's ass, confused.

Genesis pointed to his clothing, and Angeal nodded slowly. The ex-SOLDIERs spoke slowly, trying to get his train of thought back. "…What…he's doing now hardly counts as anything we could kill him over. He's protected by pillows." Angeal snorted quietly, "and shooting his 'ghost' with a paintball gun."

The redhead frowned, shaking his head a little. He sighed and waved his hand, and they (sans Sephiroth) went back to where Cloud was.

Cloud could feel his heart throb in every part of his body. It was unpleasant, but it made him feel alive. He wasn't dead—not yet, anyway—and he could fight!

There was a subtle noise in the next room, but Cloud heard it. For a short while longer he continued firing with his impressive aim. Things broke, but he paid no attention to that. The gun kept recoiling and hitting him in the shoulder, but that was okay. He had a goal, and everything else didn't matter.

He paused, though, after a short while. There was a blob of floating paint to the right… but also two more to the left. It could only mean one thing, reinforcing what he had come up with back near that pile of invisible clothing.

More than one ghost!

Holy shit!

He was done with being careful—he closed his eyes, held his breath and just fired.

He could hear breaking glass and the loud splats of the paintballs as they hit and broke probably-priceless things. He had more important things to worry about, like the lack of his most secret weapons.

Shit!

He had left them in his room! He was all out of paintballs for good, too!

Cloud settled his helmet more firmly on his head, shoved a little bag in his pocket and took off for the stairs. The house was a multicolored wreck, but he focused instead on jumping over spilled glass and making sure each breath wasn't his last.

Sephiroth (by now clean and having his wet hair thrown over his shoulder) stood up from behind a couch and hurried after Cloud. He was getting something, and he had a feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't some childish toy. Zack and Angeal followed, but Genesis was busy bitching about the air conditioning; he was getting goosebumps, among other things.

Cloud was at the top of the stairs when he felt it—a tug on his shirt. It was pulling him. He took the bag out of his pocket and let the marbles inside fall to the floor.

Sephiroth's left foot went straight onto the things Cloud had just dropped, and he completely lost his balance. He pitched backwards so quickly he didn't even have time to react, and then he was rolling down the stairs in one painful mess. He fell with his arms and legs splayed out everywhere, getting a lock of hair caught on a banister. It ripped free of his skull, Sephrioth let out an abrupt, pained grunt, and that was that.

This was probably payback for all the times Cloud himself had fallen down the same stairs, the silver-haired man dully noted as he came to a rest, sprawled out on the marble of the floor. Genesis was laughing so hard he was surprised he hadn't pissed himself.

Cloud heard a few great thumps and was filled with accomplishment and pride. He had done it!

He scampered to his bedroom, took two of the big blue blobs sitting on the mattress and ran back into the hallway.

Tightening his hold on them (but not too much), Cloud made his way to the top of the stairs. It was dangerous, he knew, being in such a place. So many things could go so wrong. He gulped, carefully avoided the marbles and started down the staircase.

A marble a few steps down rolled to the left. There was only one thing that could have done that.

He threw both of his 'secret weapons,' giving an unfortunate awkward sort of trip as he did so. They went sailing down rather than horizontally, but that was okay. Because covered in nasty flour-and-water slop was a leg. Cloud froze.

The balloons he had filled with his clever concoction had burst on impact, and it was clearly a leg right there in front of him—

Cloud moved on instinct, lashing out with his foot. Zack's eyes widened and he clutched his crotch, crumpling.

Cloud went off. He kicked the wet, dripping thing on the steps over and over, feeling definite hardness beneath his sneakers. Zack, annoyed at the way the other three men in the room dragged themselves, ran or hopped up the stairs to come to his rescue (like he was a fucking girl or something!), reached out and grabbed Cloud's ankle. The blond fell, and the four SOLDIERs pounced.

No one hurt the Puppy. Hurt any of them.

Cloud struggled and screamed as his arms were pinned roughly. His neck was pressed against a step, and even though it hurt so bad he was nearly crying, he continued to scream and fight.

It felt like he was being crushed, as his legs were painfully held together and his arms jerked behind his back.

He was then lifted into the air. He was only dimly aware that he was being carried somewhere—his struggles and curses and thrashing took up much more of his attention.

Was this the end? Were they going to kill him now?

Cloud heard his sobbing like it was coming from someone else as he futilely tried to get free (it was one of those out-of-body experiences, for a second or two there. ...Did this mean he was really going to die?). He had done so well—he had made it hurt; for a second, he had actually thought he was going to win.

With a string of curses from the four men carrying him, Cloud was brought into his room and thrown onto the bed with such force that he struck his head against the wall. The door shut, and Cloud was left alone, for now.

One day left to live.

The bedroom door had, surprisingly, been unlocked. After what had happened the previous day, Cloud wouldn't have been surprised if his ghost—no, ghosts, he reminded himself—had locked him in his room to die.

He cautiously made his way out into the hallway. It was quiet, but not quiet in the abandoned-house way. Now there was more than one of those things in his house. Maybe there had been more than one all along!

Cloud moseyed to the bathroom, throwing nervous glances over his shoulders. He shouldn't just be allowed to walk around like this—he had waged war! If anything, he should be a bag of bones in the freezer or something.

Anxious and trembling, Cloud peed, flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He closed his eyes tightly before looking at his reflection; he was afraid of what he'd see.

The '2' of yesterday had been scribbled off and replaced by the word 'ONE.' The ghost—ghosts! Cloud swore—had good grammar; the 'S' on 'DAYS' had been crossed out too.

One day.

Cloud was freaking out.

What did he do? He couldn't die—he had too much to live for! B-But he couldn't leave…

The blond leant his head against the door, overcome by a deep, desperate despair. What was he? A young, stupid blond up against two or more ghosts.

Did he just roll over and die? Or did he continue to fight? Did he plead for forgiveness?

He had to do something.

Cloud left the bathroom with a determined expression plastered on his face. He marched all the way downstairs before he heard it.

There was a deep moan echoing through the house. It sounded close, but also not really.

What the fuck?

Genesis peeked around a corner, smiling and moaning, "Oooooooooh!"

Cloud twisted and nearly fell over himself as he looked around. He turned his head, trying to locate the source of the sounds. He wasn't having much luck, judging by his confused expression, Genesis noted gleefully.

The redhead stifled a chuckle. "Ooooooooh!" He was great at this disembodied-voice thing!

"Are you having an orgasm?"

Genesis choked and turned to Zack, who was giggling at him. The ex-Commander opened his mouth, then closed it and smiled. "…What if I was?"

Zack rolled his eyes and walked past him, giving the older man a light smack on the head. Genesis's eyes narrowed playfully, and aware that Cloud was right there and was listening closely, he pounced and tackled Zack.

Cloud heard a series of loud thumps and what sounded like a fleshy slap.

What's going on!

He didn't stick around to find out. Cloud fled to the kitchen. A full two-liter bottle of Pepsi was half-gone before Cloud stopped guzzling and felt calm enough to think. He gave a tremendous burp and sat in a chair, resting his flushed and sweaty forehead against the cool glass of the table.

If he wanted to live, he'd have to patch things up with his ghost—ghosts. What was he supposed to do?

Cloud scrunched his nose up as he thought hard. He stared at the bowl of fruit on the counter, and it came to him. He scampered out of the house.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

Genesis lounged in one of the now-destroyed rooms. He stared at the ceiling, head resting on the back of a couch.

Sephiroth said quietly, eyeing the redhead's bared throat, "I don't know."

"Why hasn't he left yet? I would think that it's obvious he can't win."

Even more quietly than before, the ex-General murmured, "I don't know."

The two men frowned. Cloud was a puzzle; that was for sure. If he was a scientist, why hadn't he done anything other than be a buffoon? What was really going through that empty head?

They didn't know the answers. Something was off about him. It couldn't be good.

Genesis sat up fully when Cloud returned, wielding a tree branch.

Cloud beamed. He remembered hearing it somewhere—olive branches meant peace. He had managed to rip it off a humongous olive tree on the back of the property. He held the thing out and waved it around a bit. He knew that Sephiroth had had a really long sword named Masamune; he pretended he was handling the legendary blade himself for a moment but forcibly brought himself back to the present. He couldn't afford to daydream.

"Um… hello?" he called eventually. This was ridiculous, but it had to be done. "…Ghosts? I'm Cloud… and I don't want us to fight! I come in peace!"

Zack, who was slowly eating an apple in the next room, poked his head into the entrance room and snorted. He gestured for Angeal, Angeal got Genesis and Sephiroth, and they all went up to the young man with the huge branch. It was getting dirt and a leaf or two on the ground.

"We got off on the wrong foot," Cloud said to the empty-but-not house. "I inherited the house from my Uncle Hojo." At the old man's name, the others tensed. "I don't mean you any harm, believe me! I'm sorry we're on such bad terms. So, uh, I guess we can just learn to live with each other? It actually doesn't seem like it would be that hard; I hear I'm a good roommate. So, now all the fighting can stop, and the countdown can stop too, right? I'm so happy we worked this out—"

The olive branch was ripped out of his hands. It went horizontal and then violently broke in half, as if someone had cracked it over their knee.

The message was clear.

Something ruthlessly gripped his spikes. Cloud grit his teeth and held in a squeak of pain. It was testing him, he knew.

"Seems like an empty promise to me, Cloudy," Zack said, tightening the fist he had in the boy's hair and tilting his head back. Cloud hadn't been able to hear him, but Zack liked to think that the slight widening of his eyes was because of his words.

Cloud stayed still and submitted as his scalp burned as if it was on fire. He stared at the ceiling, breath hitching a little when there was a sharp tug on a spike near his ear. Alright, so there was more than one near him. Okay.

Something—probably a ghostly hand—wrapped around his upper arm. Cloud forcibly jerked away, skittering a few paces away. He panted and stared at where he thought it—they—were.

Genesis smirked, and Angeal lowered his hand. No one was the least bit surprised that Cloud had moved away. How could they trust one thing he said? He was a nasty, lying relative of Hojo's. A scientist.

Cloud sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly and wandered upstairs to get dressed. His posture was kept as unthreatening as possible. He'd just have to prove that he really didn't want to fight anymore. Even though he still wanted to kill them, they were stronger than he was. Better. He'd have to force down his pride if he wanted to live. Only one day left, after all.

He could do it.

If it was possible, Cloud's day was worse than the other recent ones. The ghosts were constantly doing things to him. Pulling his hair. Giving him little shoves. Moving things out of his reach when he tried to pick them up. He had made a plate of yummy rice he had found a packet of at the store, and in like some old, bad comedy, the bowl and come up off the table and had gotten him right in the face.

(All four had nearly died laughing at that.)

He was being bullied. But he put up with it, because he had to.

His panic steadily rose as the day went on. That damned moaning kept following him wherever he went. His nerves were stretched thin, and he got an eyeful of himself in a mirror as he passed by it; he was a complete, utter mess.

At one point, the house phone rang. Cloud eagerly picked it up, hoping that whoever it was had called to rescue him.

Instead, there was silence. Cloud frowned and pulled it away from his ear, peering at the little screen.

Intercom.

Somewhere in the house… on one of the other handsets… one of his ghosts was calling him.

Feeling more of his sanity slowly falling away, Cloud raised the phone back to his ear.

"…H-H-Hello?" Cloud stuttered, voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

There was no answer, except for a slow, even exhale. The static tickled his ear. It happened twice before Cloud heard the dial tone.

Cloud was still for a moment, then shrieked and chucked it. It crashed into something but he paid it no mind.

What was he supposed to do? This. Was. Hopeless!

What Cloud ended up doing was heading for the kitchen. He was going to take a page out of Tifa's book.

Cloud really tried his best to not throw up as he stirred the good-smelling mix into the bowl. That would probably make things worse. He was nervous as he opened the oven, fearing he'd end up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. Things went smoothly, though, and when done he made everything look nice and carefully wrote a letter.

Hopefully this would work.

It was Sephiroth who noticed it first. His sense of smell was probably the sharpest, but he was really just constantly sniffing out these sorts of things. The ex-General rose from the bed he and Angeal were sleepily lounging in and stumbled downstairs like a zombie.

Angeal said something to him, but he was ignored. Sephiroth trotted into the kitchen, moving as if he was being pulled by a leash. The other three ex-SOLDIERs curiously followed him.

On the table was a plate of cookies. Freshly made, steaming, chocolate chip cookies. He was watching closely; a bit of melted chocolate ran out of the well where a chip had been and ran down the golden-brown outside of one of the cookies and onto the plate.

Sephiroth very nearly came in his pants.

Cloud sat at the table, hands folded. He did his very best to look small and innocent. With luck, they'd accept his gift. That was, if ghosts ate.

Sephiroth broke a cookie in half, barely noticing Cloud, who was watching the display with wide eyes, gripping the edge of the table.

A section of cookie disappeared, and Cloud trembled in his seat. This was so weird. He guessed the ghost must've opened its mouth once as it chewed because he got a brief glimpse of floating, wet, mashed-up cookie mess before it disappeared again. So, anything in the mouth of his ghost was invisible too, as long as their mouth was totally closed?

Interesting.

Sephiroth slowly ate the cookie, tilting his head and assessing Cloud's performance. Impressive. (Or maybe his standards had been lowered because for years he hadn't gotten any nutrition from sources other than the tube Hojo gave him.)

He noticed a paper lying next to the plate, and he picked it up after licking chocolate off his fingers. It was a note from Cloud. He snorted after reading it and passed it back to the others, who were trying to look at it.

Dear Ghosts,

Hello. I hope you liked my cookies. I made them to show you that I really don't want to hurt you. See? Now you don't have to hurt me and we can be friends. So, you can forget about killing me at midnight or whatever. I'd be really grateful if you stopped hurting me, too. Thanks. I look forward to living with you—for a very, very , very long time.

Your new friend,

Cloud Strife

Zack giggled as he read it, making another crack about Cloud's intelligence. Genesis waved the paper a bit, getting Cloud's attention, and he ripped it up. He threw the little pieces right in Cloud's face; some got in his hair and stayed there.

Cloud went white with shock. All that hard work… he was still going to die!

He took off out of the kitchen, aware that his cookies were still being eaten. Tears pricked at his eyes but he wiped them away before they could fall.

He needed help!

A phone book was located in a drawer of some table in the parlor; Cloud opened it up to the yellow pages and put the smashed phone from earlier's batteries back in with shaking fingers.

His whole body shook, and he fought not to puke—nothinghedidwasworking—!

He saw an ad at the bottom of the page that said 'Enchanted Extermination Services.'

Cloud choked back a panicked sob and dialed. He was tense, waiting for a blow to come from somewhere. He shook hard as he felt a hand close around his neck. There wasn't any pressure, luckily. Cloud knew it wanted him to leave, but he couldn't! It wasn't his fucking fault!

"Hello, Enchanted Extermination Services," said a gruff voice. "How can I help ya?"

"You've gotta help me!" Cloud wailed, breath jerky and on the verge of tears. He quaked and sobbed a little as he felt another hand twist into his hair. "My house is haunted and I need you to come and get rid of the ghosts!" There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and Cloud flushed and cried, "Please!"

"We've got another crazy one!" yelled the voice, now sounding kind of far away. Someone in the background swore.

"I'm not crazy!" Cloud shouted, shivering again and feeling his heart stop as the fingers tightened, both in his hair and around his neck. "You need to help me!"

"Look, man," the guy on the phone said. "We get rid of roaches, alright? I don't have time for this. Have a nice day."

There was a click, and Cloud heard the dial tone. His mouth fell open, and he stared at the phone.

One of the ghosts grabbed his shoulder, and Cloud lost it. He turned and swung wildly, putting his fear, panic and hatred into one furious punch, which connected. Angeal barely winced, but Zack slapped Cloud for it anyway.

Cloud gasped, put a hand to his stinging cheek and tried to lash out with his feet. He was abruptly released and only hit air.

…It was impossible to win this.

When eight o'clock rolled around, Cloud was about to kill himself.

Nothing had improved. Every attempt of his to be nice failed.

His cuts from crawling in the window had re-opened. His bandages were dirty and dark red from drying blood. He couldn't be bothered enough to change it. He was limping; he had 'tripped' over a footstool earlier.

He was being tormented, plain and simple.

(What Cloud didn't know was that he wasn't the only one feeling nervous. No matter what they did, Cloud wouldn't leave. He must've been crazy, because even though they had resorted to petty pushes and cheap hits, he was still there. None of them knew what they were going to do for day zero; they hadn't gotten that far when they had started planning. They had thought that Cloud would have fled the mansion by now. Stubborn little fucker.)

His nerves were completely shot, and he fingered the knife in his pocket. He could do it… and he wouldn't have to deal with this shit anymore.

He collapsed on the couch, trembling and throbbing. He had been steadily making his way through a bag of Chex Mix for the past half-hour, finding some minor comfort in eating.

Cloud curled into a ball, fingers tracing the blade through the fabric of his pants.

It could all be over. Done with. He'd be at peace.

With a shaky sob, Cloud cursed at himself. How was he giving up so easily? He couldn't kill himself—he was young and had too much to live for.

He reached into his other pocket, tugging out his cell phone with fingers that ached. He continued to shake. He wasn't cold.

It rang slowly, and the tears started to fall. If Aerith didn't answer…

"Hello?"

"A-Aerith?" Cloud choked, relief washing over him. "Thank you for a-answering."

His friend could instantly tell something was wrong. "Cloud?" she asked, calmly but also a little bit worriedly, "What's wrong?"

The Invisibles watched him warily. Calling his friend? What was he up to?

Cloud giggled sadly, sniffling but not wiping his tears away. "Nothing… it's just that my house is haunted!"

Genesis rolled his eyes.

"…Haunted?" Aerith repeated. "Cloud, are you okay?"

"No, Aerith, "I'm not fucking fine! I'm bleeding all over and covered in bandages! I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since I go here! I'm being hunted down by ghosts! Do I sound fine to you?"

Aerith was speechless for a moment. Then she said in a soft voice, "Cloud, you need to calm down."

"I can't calm down!"

"Try. Take a deep breath and let it out for me."

Cloud nearly snapped at her to stop treating him like he was five, but Aerith always knew what was best for him, and he followed her orders.

He felt a little bit less hysterical after that, and Aerith said seriously, "Talk to me, Cloud."

"I hate it here!" he wailed, panic and fear returning. "I want to go home, Aerith!"

"What the fuck?" Zack sighed, at the end of his patience. "Then go the fuck home!"

Sephiroth, who was eating a bag of trail mix, sucked on an M&M and studied Cloud with narrowed eyes. Something wasn't right. Genesis frowned, then pulled a few peanuts out of Sephiroth's bag.

"He's allergic, isn't he?" he asked the other three. He got a nod from Angeal after a moment, and he stealthily walked around the couch Cloud was lying on and dropped them into Cloud's bag of food. He smiled at the others. "Maybe after he throws up a few times he'll leave us."

"Then come back to Midgar!" Aerith sounded bewildered.

"I can't!" Cloud sobbed, shoving a handful of Chex Mix in his mouth. He chewed without really tasting anything and burst, "I'm being blackmailed by Tseng!"

"Who's Tseng!"

"Hojo's lawyer or something! He's the one who told me Hojo left me the mansion."

Aerith still sounded confused, so Cloud told her everything. How Tseng was making him stay by threatening to give him the bill. How Tseng knew people. How it wouldn't be safe for him to breathe if he left the house. Tseng would kill him.

Through his sobs and tremors, he explained everything that had happened so far—the shower, pool, old lady floating, Sebastian and the war of the previous day.

Aerith was quiet as she listened to his crazy tale. Cloud told her about how he had only met Hojo a few times, and how stupid he had been to accept a whole mansion just like that, even though he wouldn't have been in Midgar anymore.

He kept eating Chex Mix as he spilled everything to the flower girl. He was a mess, but he didn't care, because there was one day left and—

A sharp pain hit him in the stomach. Cloud winced, and let the bag of food fall to the floor.

"…Cloud," Aerith said seriously, processing everything, "I'm driving up there. You need to promise me you won't do anything… bad before I get there."

The four ex-SOLDIERs stood behind the couch, completely still. The trail mix fell from Sephiroth's limp grip.

Cloud was…

…Innocent?

Cloud took several big gulps of air, clutching his stomach with the hand that wasn't holding the phone. Great—now he was hyperventilating. Perfect.

"I'll come pick you up," he rasped through a surprisingly sore throat. "You don't need to drive."

Cloud shivered. His throat was tingling. He blinked slowly.

"Okay. But promise me, Cloud. Don't do anything stupid. You can get through this."

Each breath was hurting. It felt like he was going to be sick. Cloud wasn't stupid—he knew the symptoms of an allergy attack when he had one. He abruptly hung up with Aerith and tried to stand. He caught sight of his arm—hives everywhere.

Cloud sucked air, stumbling to the stairs.

Oh, fuckfuckfuck—

He fell to his knees and threw up halfway there. The pain in his gut was awful, but he surged to his feet and continued on his way. He wiped his now-runny nose with the back of his hand, feeling dizzy and swaying about five steps up the staircase.

Cloud only made it a third of the way upstairs before he collapsed. He threw up again, and was just able to roll away from it.

He could hear footsteps. Footsteps and cursing.

Cool hands were on his cheeks, and Cloud turned his head weakly into a palm, eyes drifting shut.

Whoever it was was yelling at him, asking him something… he wasn't sure what.

The ambulance had arrived already? That was weird... he didn't remember calling. But he knew what they were asking for. Probably.

"Epipen," he croaked, not aware that he was starting to go into shock. "Bedside table… emergency card's in…wallet. Dresser."

The cool hands left him and he heard pounding footsteps go upstairs. Different hands were on him then, but Cloud didn't try to find out who it was. The darknesss that had been filling his vision grew and swallowed him whole.

...It seemed the ghosts had won.

He was going to die.