Tobi: Hey everyone! Don't worry, we're back-with fic! Anyway, myndt-moon was reviewer number 950, and maiyr was number one thousand! WE HAVE OVER A THOUSAND REVIEWS, GUYS! NEVER EVER EVER DID I EVER THINK IM WOULD GET THIS MUCH! I love all of you, so so so so so much. Thank you! (and yes, there's some other FF characters in here in honor of Dissidia. Just roll with it.)

CM: Did you miss us? *dodges flying objects* ._. I won't say much. Go read. Enjoy! But: HOLY FRIGGIN CRAP ITS OVER 1000! I TOLD TOBI WE COULD DO IT! :D DUDES YOU ALL ROCK! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

Oh, GaiaGaiaGaia—

Only a shock of yellow spikes and bright blue eyes were visible. Cloud's comforter was tightly wrapped around his body. It was pulled up to the bridge of his nose, and he clutched it and Sebastian desperately as he watched the unusual—and freakish—phenomenon occurring on the other side of his bedroom.

His clothes were floating. Of course, Cloud knew that they weren't exactly floating, and that they were being handled by one of his ghosts, but he preferred to think that they were actually floating. That was certainly less scary than what was really going on.

It seemed the spirits hadn't given up trying to be nice to him. He had hoped that his performance the previous night would have deterred them but... that was obviously not the case.

A shirt drifted out of his drawer, unfolded itself and was promptly folded back up and put into the dresser where it belonged. After a few articles of clothing failed inspection, a shirt was finally picked and flew over to the bed. It landed next to his hip and was flattened and smoothed, like someone was getting rid of any wrinkles.

Cloud almost had a heart attack.

A pair of pants joined the shirt, and a pair of socks and a little pair of boxer-briefs settled onto the comforter. Cloud stared—it was a pretty cute outfit, actually; his ghost must've had good fashion sense.

But that was irrelevant! His ghost was picking out his clothes! This was quite possibly one of the worst wake-up calls he had ever gotten.

Genesis beamed and waited expectantly. Cloud was obviously terrified, judging by how wide his eyes were and how he was huddled on the bed, but hopefully he'd wear the clothes and accept the latest peace offering.

Do it... c'mon...

When Cloud shoved the clothes to the floor, glared at a spot to his left and picked out his own clothing, Genesis couldn't say he was surprised. He rolled his eyes, threw his hands in the air and walked out silently. It was going to be hard—really hard—to get Cloud to forgive them; he realized this now. But he'd still try.

Dressing in the bathroom, Cloud seethed. Why couldn't they get that he didn't want their help? He almost wished that they were trying to kill him again, as crazy as that was.

His bad mood got worse when he entered the kitchen to find a steaming plate on the table waiting for him. He almost drooled—there were eggs, slices of bacon, hashbrowns, and pieces of toast—but he came to his senses.

Even though his mouth was watering, he picked the plate up and threw it out the window. (It was like his own personal trash can.) He grabbed a few Pop-Tarts, slammed them into the toaster and waited in tense silence until they heated up.

Angeal rolled his eyes and put a hand over his softly grumbling stomach. He had figured Cloud would do that, but had still thought it was worth a shot.

They had to keep trying.

Within an hour, Cloud was ready to scream. His ghosts had continued doing their 'nice things' to him, and he was sick of it. He had nearly shit his pants when a bottle had floated and squeezed soap onto his hands when he was about to wash them.

He had to get out—it felt like he couldn't breathe. Sneakers were hastily shoved onto his feet and he was out the door.

Once outside, Cloud breathed in the chilly air and calmed down a bit. He thought for a minute, figuring out what to do, then remembered Fenrir. Poor thing!

Cloud jogged into the forest, trying to find his way back to his bike. It had been a couple of days since he had deserted it; he was a changed man now. Hopefully Fenrir would still work for him, after he had so callously left it in the woods (Cloud firmly believed that Fenrir was not just a bike. It had moods too. And if it was unhappy with him (and he wouldn't blame it) then it wouldn't run.)

Moving at such a speed proved to be great exercise. Two months ago he would have been panting and gasping already, but now he was able to keep going, feeling more or less okay. Cloud blinked; he was becoming a big, sturdy mountain man! The horror!

Fenrir was finally spotted in a clearing. It was a sorry sight; more paint had been chipped off, one handle had been chewed, and mold covered at least half of the candies on it. Cloud almost shed a tear.

But... was that a raccoon, licking a purple jolly rancher?

Cloud froze. Yes, that was indeed a raccoon. It was black and white and a little gray and it was licking a candy near Fenrir's seat like it was performing fellatio or something.

It turned its head and looked at him when Cloud took an enraged step forward. It had a challenging expression on its furry little face... what a bastard!

What if more raccoons came? A wolf or something, that came to eat the raccoon? A bear, that came to eat the wolf? A monster, that came to eat the bear!

It wasn't safe to be in the woods. He had to move quickly.

Cloud screamed at the raccoon, hoping to scare it away. It screamed back, little raccoon voice unbelievably high-pitched and making his ears ring and hurt, face screwed up in rage. Cloud jumped about a foot in the air and stared at it.

Oh Gaia, what if it has rabies?

Holding his breath, Cloud bounded forward and kicked. The raccoon whipped out a clawed paw and tried to gouge his ankle, but Cloud was too quick for it. His shoe struck the animal's side and he launched it into the woods. It hit a tree somewhere, and he didn't hear any more movement.

Shit... did he kill it? N-No, he didn't—it was just...sleeping...

Cloud hurried to Fenrir. There were little animal claw marks all over it, and raccoon slobber dripping down a jolly rancher and all over the side of the bike. Poor poor poor thing!

Cloud sat on it and started the engine. It sputtered almost pathetically, and Cloud's heart broke.

"Hey, Fenrir," he cooed, "I'm here, don't worry..."

The engine died. Cloud hastily patted the seat and murmured lovingly to it, and eventually the engine started again. Making his way back to the house was hard. Fenrir stalled six times and made all sorts of terrible noises when it did run. He was almost in tears when he pulled into the driveway, but held them in.

"It'll be okay, Fen," he sniffed. "I'll get you fixed up, and I'll never ever leave you out there again..."

He stumbled back into the house after apologizing profusely. Dispirited, he sank onto the couch and didn't move.

Tifa had called the previous night, saying she was going to stop by sometime and bring him around town. He had to meet the townspeople and get Strife Delivery Service's name out there somehow. It was really nice of Tifa to do this for him.

He lay there for a while, not really thinking about anything. His ghosts weren't doing anything; he was grateful for that.

Zack eyed the resting blond on the couch and had a marvelous idea. He looked tense. Zack knew he was great at giving massages... he could give Cloud one, and Cloud wouldn't hate them anymore and they could finally speak to him without scaring him and they'd become friends and all of their guilt would go away and they'd all be happy. A great plan!

He swooped, about to latch his hands onto Cloud's shoulders, but he was seized around the waist and held back.

"What are you doing?" Angeal whispered into his ear. Even though they constantly spoke at a pitch so low Cloud couldn't hear, the older man whispered.

"I was just gonna give 'em a massage," Zack answered struggling. Cloud blinked and shook his head a little—to him, when they spoke, it sounded like a subtle ringing in his ears or a slight buzzing.

"Zack," Angeal said in a grave voice, "We can't touch him yet. He's still scared of us—he might try to fight us again if we frighten him."

"I'm not gonna scare him, you'll see-"

"Zack."

Angeal led him away, but even though Zack appeared to give in, he was quite rebellious in his mind. Cloud's muscles were not safe from him!

Cloud yawned and put a pillow under his head. He felt like he was floating, not really involved with anything. Tired, too.

His cell phone rang from in the kitchen. It was probably Tifa, but he didn't wanna get up...

It floated out of the kitchen and came towards him. Cloud's eyes went wide with astonishment, and he stared like an idiot when it stopped before him, like someone was holding it out.

It continued to ring, and Cloud gulped before nervously taking it. Nothing else happened, and he sat nervously for a few seconds before finally answering.

"...H-Hello?"

"Hey, Cloud," Tifa's warm voice came through the speaker. "I'm almost at your house. Will you be ready when I get there?"

"Yeah," Cloud rasped.

"Okay! I'll see you in a bit."

"'Kay."

"Bye!"

"Bye."

Cloud hung up and was absolutely silent, hearing nothing but the ticking of that ever-present grandfather clock. Sephiroth frowned down at Cloud and waited another minute for anything to happen before smoothly returning to the kitchen.

When Tifa rang the doorbell, he nearly gave a shout of relief. He went to her, glad for a distraction.

Tifa didn't look at him; she was staring at Fenrir.

"...What-"

"Don't ask," Cloud said darkly.

Tifa caught the anger in his tone as he stared at his ruined motorcycle. She kept glancing at it but didn't ask any more questions.

The walk down the mountain was nearly as pleasant as it had been with Aerith. They chatted, and luckily, Cloud couldn't detect any jealousy on her part. That had been awkward. But she was her usual kind self, and Cloud liked that.

The first house they stopped at had smoke drifting out of a chimney. A fireplace. Sweet.

Tifa pushed him forward, and Cloud suddenly started to protest. He hadn't rehearsed or anything—

He found himself knocking, and then he couldn't run away. The door opened after a tense twenty or so seconds.

"Hello?" asked a confused-looking girl.

"...Um. Hi," Cloud said stupidly.

She stared, and when Cloud didn't say anything else, looked like she was about to shut the door on the scary man on her doorstep. Tifa came forward and elbowed him, and Cloud came to his senses. "Uh, I'm new in town, so I haven't met many people yet. I'm Cloud Strife... and I own a delivery service called, uh, well, Strife Delivery Service. If you ever need anything, I'm your man!"

He was sweating buckets by the time he finished. He smiled (but it was more like a grimace).

How do door-to-door salesmen do it?

The girl blinked twice before giving a hesitant nod. She noticed Tifa and visibly relaxed, knowing Cloud couldn't be dangerous if the brunette was there.

"Hey Terra," Tifa greeted.

"...Hello, Tifa," Terra said back. "Um, Cloud, er, Mr. Strife—I'll remember you, thanks. And welcome to Nibelheim."

Cloud thanked her, said his goodbyes and backed the hell up. Tifa giggled at him. "That was terrible."

"I panicked, alright?"

"How are you supposed to get any customers if you creep them all out?"

Cloud growled at her, and Tifa laughed again. They kept walking, and she snapped her fingers. "Oh—Terra is Helga's cousin."

"Oh. That's nice."

With that they continued to the next house. Cloud cursed under his breath.

The task was daunting. Very daunting.

Genesis, Zack, Angeal and Sephiroth studied the interior of the mansion. This wouldn't be fun... but they had to do it.

The house was a wreck.

The phenomenal mess caused by the "war" had been sitting around for long enough. They could hardly move without walking on broken glass or stepping on dried paint. It would take ages to clean... but again, they had to do it.

"I don't even know where to start," Zack confessed.

Sephiroth frowned. "We need some sort of plan," he said, taking charge. He surveyed the other three men. "...I think it's best that Genesis and I fix Cloud's motorcycle." He looked guilty for a moment, then continued. "Angeal and Zackary—you two stay inside and do what you can. We'll join you when we're done."

They all agreed to that and went their separate ways. Genesis led the General outside, an he put his hands on his hips as he stared at Fenrir.

"...That's so gross," he said finally.

Sephiroth was not excited to be touching all those moldy, gross candies, but he had to.

They got to work. "What do we do about these?" Genesis asked, pointing to a jolly rancher. "Rip them off?"

They decided to use the hose. It would melt them, rather than peeling the paint off if they ripped them off. Genesis went to the shed, hooked the hose up to the side of the house and dragged the nozzle into the driveway.

After five minutes of spraying, they realized that the water wasn't working. It was chilly, so the water was freezing, and was it even safe to spray a motorcycle with water? The engine and inner workings were getting wet...

They tossed it aside and stared yanking the candies off. Each one came away with pitch black paint on one side, leaving odd rectangular patches all over the bike.

Who knew those things could cause so much damage?

Genesis grimaced once Fenrir was half-cleaned up. The ugly silver rectangles were clearly a problem. After talking it over, they agreed that Sephiroth would run into town and would try to steal some paint somewhere. He grumbled but agreed, leaving Genesis to continue to pull the candies off.

The redhead waved him away and continued working. His fingers hurt, and he wanted to stop, but he wouldn't. Poor blond's bike was damn near ruined.

It was weird, not having such murderous thoughts about him. One day he might even have fond thoughts, Genesis realized. With luck, Cloud would go back to Midgar and they'd be able to live out their lives happily and alone with each other, but hey. He'd make the most out of the current situation.

Sephiroth rummaged through a citizen of Nibelheim's rusty shelves, feeling ridiculous. Here he was, the (ex) General of the Shin-Ra army, looking for paint in an unnamed person's dirty, spider-infested garage!

He squatted and peered at a can of paint. White... no, he didn't want that. He found a can of black paint, but it was extremely low quality. That wouldn't do; Fenrir was a beautiful, gleaming piece of machinery.

Eventually he gave up and moved onto another house. Crouching next to lawn mowers and stepping on rakes (and just barely avoiding the ensuing smack in the face with the rake's handle) was not his idea of a good time—after five unsuccessful houses he was grumbling under his breath and was about to kill something.

His brilliant, genius mind finally kicked in and he started towards the tiny hardware store in town, tucked behind a beauty salon and a thrift shop.

Sephiroth frowned at the door. To get inside and nab some paint, he'd have to open it. Doors didn't open all by themselves...

He went inside anyway. The bells hooked to the top of the door chimed, and the business owner's head popped up from behind a shelf. Of course, Sephiroth knew he couldn't be seen, but he still felt a little unnerved when the man's eyes looked right into him.

"What the hell," he said flatly, returning to a hunting magazine.

Sephiroth sneered at him and rooted through the store until he found the paint. There were boring colors that he'd never put in any place he lived (the freaky purples and blues and reds of the mansion bothered him as it was). There was black, but it was the same crappy kind he had found in that person's garage.

On a shelf in the middle of the paint section were ten cans. A bright light shone directly down on them. Sephiroth nearly chocked on his own spit when he saw the price.

Seven-hundred Gil? For one can of paint!

Brightly-colored stickers announced that the cans were, 'Imported From The Great City of Midgar!' and 'Worth Every Gil!' He could've gotten the same thing in Midgar for a fifth of the price. Scamming, little nowhere-town shop owners—

The paint was for metals. There was a sample off to the side; the little piece of scrap steel glittered and shone. Perfect.

How did he make off with it, though? Floating cans of paint would certainly arouse suspicion.

Five minutes later, he had a plan. Carefully, Sephiroth climbed over the counter, inched behind the man, took firm hold of a metal rack holding the more expensive tools that were kept away from the average customer, and tugged. The metal bent and ripped—nothing was a match for a SOLDIER's strength—and with a tremendous racket, everything on the shelves fell.

Sephiroth vaulted back over the counter before he could get hit and brought down another nearby shelf. In the confusion, Sephiroth seized every last can and ran like hell. He quickly made it to the woods, hoping no one had seen.

"Mommy!"

Sephiroth froze, hiding behind a tree after a short pause and peering out of the forest. A little girl was yelling to her mother, who stood a short distance away. "Mommy!" the girl called, "I just saw floating-"

"That's nice, Annabelle," the mom said, not paying one ounce of attention to her daughter. "Come on, now!"

Annabelle reluctantly followed her retreating mother, and Sephiroth sighed softly with relief. Holding all these things was more than a bit uncomfortable, so he quickly started back for the mansion.

Genesis looked up when he heard Sephiroth's footsteps. The ex-General scowled and dropped enough paint to coat a house at his feet.

"...Where'd you find all that?"

Sephiroth grunted and went inside to find a paintbrush.

In the kitchen, Zack was keeping up a steady stream of curses as he swept up old, broken glass. Cleaning... he hated cleaning...

Zack dumped the now-glittery, full dustpan into the trash. He mopped the floor and unhappily trudged to Cloud's bathroom. Angeal had him doing stuff like this while he scrubbed the paint out of the carpet. Boring!

There was glass all over the place. Zack sighed and began cleaning that up too, nicking his finger on a shard and cursing bitterly.

Downstairs, Angeal frowned. Now that he was cleaning it up, there was an awful lot of paint everywhere, more than he had originally thought. His arms felt like jelly so he had gotten out the shampooer from a closet on the second floor. This was much easier.

About two hours into their work, Sephiroth came inside. He gave Angeal a brief, tired smile and left to get something.

This was all very boring, tedious work, but they had to do it. Spirits in the house were low, but if Cloud was happy and forgave them after this, they'd be happy too. Angeal still had nightmares about what he had done every night; the day they stopped would be a great day indeed.

After Zack cleaned up the glass, he moved on to the IcyHot still sitting on one of the bathroom toilet seats. Gross! The only really fun thing he got to do was mow. He got to sit on the beast of a mower and be outside for a while, secretly watching Genesis and Sephiroth sand and re-paint Cloud's bike.

Angeal, when finally finished cleaning up the inside of the mansion, dragged himself into the kitchen. He was sick of making food that went to waste—wait, dammit, one of them had to replace that broken window Cloud kept throwing food out of—but he couldn't give up.

Zack's 'snickerdoodle' comment earlier made Angeal make some. He actually loved to bake, something that only three certain people knew. Cookies would probably go over well with Cloud (as long as he didn't think there was peanut butter in them), but there was one problem...

...Sephiroth.

Angeal put an oven mitt in a drawer, and when he turned back around, three of the steaming, right-from-the-oven cookies were missing. He spotted a trail of silver hair quickly disappear around the corner.

Cloud had better appreciate all he did for him.

Now that he had finished introducing himself around town, Cloud felt a lot better. He hadn't spoken to everybody, of course, but a good number. They had tried to talk to the guy who owned the Nibelheim version of a Wall Market Depot, but he was still raving about faulty shelves and stolen paint and blah blah blah, so they left him alone.

Now he and Tifa were seated at a little table outside a small coffee shop. Both sipped strawberry-banana smoothies; Cloud was on his third.

Tifa was filling him in on his delivery for the next day. It turned out that his destination was the same city he had bought the flyswatter and the other war supplies in. He had to give a package to a 'Mr. Dick' and pick up some shot glasses from some bar.

"Shot glasses?"

Tifa smiled. "I want to open my own bar some day," she said shyly.

Cloud nodded encouragingly, "If I ever need to get drunk, I know where I'll be going." Tifa kicked his shin under the table.

As they started back towards home, Cloud felt very peaceful. Then he remembered what he was returning home to, and his mood turned dark. He declined Tifa's offer to come inside her house and 'maybe meet her old man' (he wasn't going anywhere near her father—that was too much... just too much).

When he finally returned to the mansion, he expected to see the usual depressing sights and go to sleep or something. He hadn't expected what was waiting for him in the driveway.

Fenrir was there in all its glory. It gleamed. No more candies. No more animal poo. As good as new.

Cloud stood completely still for a minute, then dissolved into helpless tears. He collapsed next to his bike and hugged it, bawling like a little kid.

"...He is so weird," Zack said softly, maybe a hint of fondness in his voice. He elbowed Genesis. "Feel all proud and accomplished?"

"Not really," Genesis said a little too dismissively, folding his arms and looking away. Sephiroth smiled and kissed the redhead on the corner of the mouth.

Cloud cried until he couldn't cry any more, then climbed onto the seat and started the engine. Fenrir roared into action and then kept up a steady purr. Cloud sobbed—his motorcycle was back!

Cloud drove Fenrir back down and up the huge, winding driveway twice. Fenrir seemed glad to see him and drove perfectly. Cloud parked Fenrir, turned it off, put down the kickstand and had to collect himself, wiping his eyes and sniffling. Zack cooed at that, and almost as if Cloud had heard, he stiffened.

Wait...

He had been so caught up in the moment he hadn't thought about exactly how Fenrir had gotten fixed. The ghosts...?

Cloud slid off Fenrir, gulped, and entered the house. He stopped walking and stared.

The mansion was clean. Sparkling. The paint previously ground into the carpet was gone, as were the broken picture frames and vases. It felt like a mansion again, the same one that had made him gape in awe when he first moved in.

Cloud examined the whole house appreciatively. No more mess—even the glass in his bathroom was gone! He could use it again.

In the kitchen sat a plate with one lone snickerdoodle cookie on it. (Angeal sent Sephiroth a positively evil look.) The previous 'cookie incident' resurfaced in Cloud's mind, and he was consumed by rage.

Was this another peace offering! They hadn't accepted his cookies; they expected him to accept theirs? The ghosts must have been serious about being sorry if they cleaned the mansion and fixed Fenrir, but was he about to forgive them? No! They had tried to kill him!

This cookie probably had peanuts in it! His first impulse was to throw it out the window (and, he realized, the window had been replaced so that wouldn't work), but... he thought he'd do the ghosts a minor favor. They had cleaned Fenrir, after all. Rather than chucking it, he left it sitting on the plate and refused to look at it. Hmph!

Cloud turned on his heel, livid, and tried to prepare for the delivery the next day. It would take his mind off the spirits, if nothing else. The only thing he could really do was pick out his clothes and get a jacket ready. When that was done Cloud was at a complete loss as to how to spend his time.

Television seemed like a good thing to do, so he mindlessly watched a movie about witches... or something. It was about a week until Halloween, so scary movies were everywhere. It eventually ended and some X-rated, bloody gore torture movie began. Cloud was a complete wimp when it came to scary things and immediately wanted to change the channel. But... the remote was on the complete other side of the couch...

The remote zoomed into his fingers. Cloud froze, and eventually switched to something more up his alley, but he was Not Happy.

That night, the toothpaste 'squirted itself' onto his toothbrush for him. Cloud's patience snapped, he roared, "Leave me alone!" and darted into his bedroom. All four invisible men were exhausted and tired of doing unappreciated things for Cloud. They had to keep trying, though—SOLDIERs never gave up. Ever. If they had, they probably wouldn't have survived Hojo.

With that sobering thought, they went to bed too.

Cloud woke up the next morning in a foul mood. Luckily, his clothes didn't try to pick themselves out, so his morning was at least better than the previous one.

This ended when he was brushing his teeth. A hair brush floated towards his head in a way that could only be called menacing.

It'll rip my hair out!

Cloud screamed and threw a roll of toilet paper at the brush. He unplugged a hair dryer from the wall and threw that too, then escaped.

Even though his hair was a mess and he was hungry, cloud left the house. Nothing was worth staying in there for another minute.

Cloud swung a leg over Fenrir and nearly floored it, but the sound of the front door opening made him look back. A brown paper bag drifted through the air. Cloud's stomach growled.

He employed a new tactic of his, which was complete, utter denial.

No... the packed lunch is not floating towards me... it's not, it's not, it's not...

It waved temptingly in front of his face and Cloud snatched it out of the air with a poisonous look. He carelessly tossed it into a storage compartment and took off.

Every foot Cloud put between himself and the mansion eased his heart a little. He was out in nature on Fenrir—his new, beautiful, fixed Fenrir—what more could a guy ask for?

He'd deal with all the shit at home later; right now, he just wanted to focus on the wind in his spikes.

There was a quick stop at Tifa's to pick up her package, whatever the hell it was, and for a quick good-bye hug. Then he was back on the bike, speeding out of Nibelheim. It looked like that shop owner was still freaking out—what the hell had happened, anyway?

Cloud shrugged and hummed to himself until he was out in the countryside and away from all the staring people. Granted, the staring wasn't as bad as it had been when Fenrir had been covered in candy, but it was still annoying.

Mr. Dick—Cloud couldn't stop snickering at that—turned out to be the President of some smart environmental company. Tifa had given him the name of the business the previous day, and he waltzed inside, looking very important in his 'Strife Delivery Service' hat he pulled out of the storage compartment and with a clipboard under one arm. He had a receptionist sign it to keep track of all transactions, then gave Mr. Dick his package—Cloud giggled—by slotting the package into the President's mailbox in a room on the second floor. Easy enough.

Cloud exited the building, only to stop and gawk at two SOLDIERs talking on the sidewalk. They were fully uniformed, and Cloud immediately tried to look busy. He pretended to scribble on his clipboard as he listened in on their conversation.

After listening for a minute or two he recognized them: Second Class Kunsel and Second Class Luxiere. Both looked bored, like they didn't want to be stationed in the middle of nowhere.

Kunsel pointed to a pair of teenagers doing squats across the street. They seemed to be runners, warming up for a work out. "Hah, Zack would've loved to see this," he said, voice full of amusement.

Luxiere snickered, then stared at his feet. Kunsel patted him on the shoulder. "I miss him," Luxiere said softly. "Everyone else in his fanclub refuses to think he's gone, but it's been years, y'know?"

Kunsel slung an arm around Luxiere's neck and started dragging him down the street. "I do too, man. Zack wouldn't have been killed by that madman... and neither would the others. Cheer up!"

Cloud frowned as they left. Zack? Must've been some SOLDIER that went MIA or something. Sad stuff... He shot a last envious look at their retreating backs and got back onto Fenrir.

The shot glasses Tifa wanted were waiting at some high-end bar whose occupants wouldn't stop staring at him. Cloud nervously got his clipboard filled out and signed, grabbed the shot glasses and scurried out. As he carefully secured the box to the back of Fenrir, he wondered how many of the shot glasses would be used as planchettes in Ouija board séances.

Laughing at his own ridiculous life, Cloud got back on Fenrir and drove home.

"Tifa!" Cloud called happily, knocking at her front door. "I'm back!"

The door swung open, revealing Tifa with her hair up and her sleeves pushed down to her elbows. She grinned, accepted the box and gently placed it down on a table. Her house was cozy and nice, nothing like the mansion but great in its own way. Cloud was wary of her father, the Mayor, but he didn't seem to be around.

"Thank you so much, Cloud," Tifa said, wiping her hands on a towel and hugging him. It was... perhaps a bit more than sisterly. Cloud knew he had to gently tell her he wasn't interested, but... he'd do it later. He was enjoying her friendship too much to risk losing it.

Cloud extracted himself, smiled, told her to keep up the good dishwashing work and split. The second he entered the mansion he collapsed onto a couch, ready to go sleep for a million years. He was tired, but in a good way. He had worked, and he had earned money!

He did his best to relax, turning on the television. His muscles were tight and he yawned, trying to work the kinks out of his back and shoulders.

Zack looked left and right before pouncing. They were alone; his three older lovers were busy doing something outside, so no one could hold him back this time. Cloud looked tense again; Zack dropped onto the couch behind Cloud, put his hands on warm shoulders and got down to business.

Cloud absolutely melted. Zack held his breath as he dug his thumbs into the tense muscles near Cloud's shoulder blades. The blond's head flopped to the side and he exhaled softly.

Wow... he's okay with it!

Zack happily continued giving Cloud a massage, really thinking this was working out. Cloud pretty much resembled a puddle of goo, and man, this kid was really wound up.

Cloud realized suddenly, through a hazy, pleasured brain, that a ghost was touching him!

He yelled and swung a fist right into Zack's nose, kicking and pummeling and bashing with all his strength.

Zack clutched his nose and managed to fend off Cloud. He cupped two hands over his face to catch the blood gushing everywhere and sprinted into the kitchen.

The others heard the ruckus and came inside. Cloud was enraged, swinging his fists into thin air and screeching about something. Zack was hunched over the kitchen sink, blood dripping down from a broken nose into the basin. They could all guess what happened.

Angeal sighed and went to help the Puppy out of his latest mess.

One week had passed since the day of his delivery. It had been one of the worst weeks of his life. Why didn't those stupid ghosts just... leave him the hell alone? He was sooo sick of putting up with their crap.

Cloud clutched his cell phone, huddled into a small corner of his bedroom. It was ringing, and Cloud desperately hoped he was alone in his room.

"Hello?"

"Aerith!" Cloud hissed. "It's awful!"

"What's awful? The spirits haven't done anything, have they?"

"That's just it! They're not being mean anymore, they're being nice! They just won't stop!"

"...What-"

"They keep helping me, Aerith!" Cloud said hurriedly, voice a frantic whisper. "They pick out my clothes and they do my dishes and they tie my shoes—I almost wish they were trying to kill me again!"

The earful he got from the usually-sweet girl made him wish he had never called. When he finally escaped and hung up, Cloud exhaled and dug his palms into his eyes.

He was so stressed... he really needed to relax. What to do?

His newly-cleaned bathroom was calling to him. A bath sounded nice—a warm, bubbly bath in the jacuzzi in the middle of the bathroom. Excited, Cloud entered the bathroom. He shot the shower a dark look and eyed the various knobs of the jacuzzi. There was a little pillow that he could rest his head on; it looked great!

Cloud eagerly shut the bathroom door, hearing a subtle noise and feeling a soft breeze as he did so. Cloud frowned, but figured it was the air conditioning or something. He shut the door firmly and immediately stripped. He stretched and ambled over to the jacuzzi, fiddling with the taps.

While it filled up, Cloud inspected his face in the mirror. He bent over the sink and stood on tiptoes, looking at his eyes. There were bags under him Eww! He needed to get more sleep. Cloud flexed too, grinning at the chest muscles he was getting. All this fighting for his life stuff was doing wonders for his physique.

He filled the water with a spicy, yummy-smelling bubble bath and walked around, humming and looking at the paintings on the walls while he waited. A lot of it was nature-ish stuff...huh.

The water was deemed ready when he didn't shiver when he stuck a toe into it. He got a washcloth and a towel ready and lowered himself into the water.

It was warm, soothing... just heavenly. Cloud smiled dreamily and let out a blissful sigh. All his stress was melting away..

He drew a knee to his chest. He giggled—what a lewd position!—but shrugged it off (he was all alone, no need to be embarrassed) and checked it for bruises. It had been hurting him. He found none, luckily, and lay still for a moment before reaching for the washcloth.

He leant towards the soap, but it was unnecessary. Cloud looked on, shocked, as the body wash floated over to him, turned upside down, and deposited some blue gel in his hand. It was re-capped, and then he felt shampoo fall onto his spikes. Fingers delved into his hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp.

Cloud was completely frozen.

The hand in his hair combed through his spikes slowly. He felt breath on his ear, and a hand closed over his, guiding his actions and smearing the body wash over his chest.

Cloud shrieked, flailing and waving all his limbs in a panic. His fist hit something hard, and he repeatedly struck the same spot, covering himself up with the other hand.

It saw me naked!

The horror! The embarrassment! Cloud splashed water everywhere, hollered and thrashed until the bathroom door was flung open and he heard retreating footsteps.

Genesis ran from the bathroom, both (now soapy) hands clamped over his mouth so he wouldn't start laughing hysterically. He was soaking wet and looked wild, and when he sprinted into where the others were, they couldn't stop staring.

"...What did you do?" Angeal asked, lowering the book he had been reading.

Genesis explained, barely able to get the words out through his laughter. He had snuck in there, sat on the toilet and watched Cloud prepare for his bath, then had 'assisted' in the cleaning process.

"I thought he would appreciate it!" Genesis defended. Zack laughed along with him, and Sephiroth shook his head, smiling. They could hear Cloud still screaming and making noise upstairs. Poor kid.

Genesis snickered at the ceiling, then exclaimed, "Oh! And if I rated his ass on a scale of one to ten... I'd give it a fourteen."

"...Too much info, Gen. Really."

Cloud was so furious, he trembled and shook. A few days had passed since the bathroom incident... and things had only gotten worse! They wouldn't stop! This was worse than before! They just wouldn't—why—!

He pushed away the glass of water shoved into his face and snatched his cell phone out of the air. It never stopped—constantly things were zooming towards him, never ceasing! This wasn't the way to get someone to forgive you!

Cloud snapped. He clenched his eyes shut and roared, "Leave me ALONE! Just stop!" He finally, finally spoke his mind, putting those goddamned ghosts in their place. He told them exactly what he thought of their endless favors, how much he hated them, and he told them how he wished they just died.

...Shocked, the four older men looked at each other.

It was obvious that everything they had done was for naught—Cloud never would forgive them. They'd be stuck with this guilt forever.

They still wanted to try to persuade Cloud, get him to come around, but... it was useless. Maybe it was better if they just... disappeared, for a little while. Until Cloud calmed down.

Cloud clenched his fists in rage and waited. After a minute he felt lighter, less... oppressed, though it may have just been his imagination. The mansion felt bigger. Emptier. Scarier, but in a different way.

For the first time since moving to Nibelheim, Cloud felt completely, truly, utterly alone.