Pity the Lame Chocobo

"Cloud! Phone!"

I look up from my maps, and glance over my shoulder. Tifa's calling for me. I stand slowly and go to the office. She smiles as I enter and watches me closely.

"What?"

"Nothing," she states, her hand over the phone. "It's just Vincent again. This is like the sixth time he's called in the past two weeks...maybe Marlene was right. Maybe all he needed was a hug."

I take the phone from her, "I doubt it."

She laughs and walks away as I lift the phone up to my ear.

"No." I state.

"Cloud, it's been two weeks."

"And? Listen, I told you I would prove to you that I have faith in myself...not just go and tell...well, not just go and do that." I state.

Honestly, I think he's enjoying this.

"Cloud...you disappoint me."

"Go hug a toddler you morbid clown." The words fall out of my mouth before I even think about it.

Wait, wasn't that how I got into this mess?

"...I understand the morbid part. But clown, Cloud?"

"Four words, Vincent. Big. Pointy. Golden. Shoes." I'm not holding back.

Honestly, how can you not be a clown with those shoes?

"...They were the only thing that matched the claw." Somehow his voice is deathly serious about this.

Okay, I am not discussing fashion here with Vincent.

"Goodbye, Vincent."

"My faith in you is at a level two."

"You have that much faith in me?"

"...Negative three."

Click!

Stupid morbid clown.

Ugh…

Bleah…

Ech…

Uhhhhhhh…

Someone please…ugh…ah…help…ah…eh…

Ugh.

I let out another pitiful moan. This is freaking ridiculous. I haven't been asleep at all tonight.

I glance at my clock. The red numbers are a cruel memento to how long I've been awake. It's six bloody o'clock…in the morning.

Ugh.

It feels like there's something stuck in my chest, like, right beneath my ribcage. It's been bothering me all night, and I ache. What's wrong with me?

I sigh, and drag myself from my bed. It's given me no rest tonight; I see no reason to remain in it any longer. I'm just going to go watch some TV. Maybe that'll put me to sleep.

You know what the worst part about morning television is? It friggen sucks. Really. Nothing but news people who are way too cheery for this time in the morning. Honestly, who wants to be a news person? Their hours are so sporadic, and do they get some special insurance claim that states when ever their head gets blown off in a hurricane, the news station will compensate their family? Or are they just that excited to be on TV they don't think to ask these questions…really…I think it's common sense.

Groan.

This isn't helping any.

Six fifteen… Tifa will probably be getting up soon. Maybe she'll know what's wrong with me.

Sigh.

Weather people make such a big deal about weather too, you know? I mean, look at any time there's snow. Last winter I remember reading a headline that said 'Winter slaps Edge'. Okay, that was freaking lie. We got, what, a dusting of snow, okay?

Six twenty…

Oh! And not to mention the fact that when there's a miniscule amount of snow and/or ice on the road, people suddenly don't know how to drive. I've almost gotten killed at least twelve times because people overreact or under react.

Six twenty-five.

I wonder if their coffee cups are really filled with coffee. It's got to be some form of liquid drugs or something to get these people up this early and smiling that much. It's not like the sane people are up to watch this, anyway.

Six thirty.

Time stops when you can't sleep, I swear.

Sigh.

Oh…oh…you've got to be freaking kidding me.

Bathroom…Run…NOW!

My elbow smacks the doorknob as I push it open violently. For some reason, doors have become my mortal enemy. They've caused me a lot of pain as of the late, ever notice that?

But back to the present.

I don't think you want the graphic details of what just happened here.

Let's just say I just got a close up of my Wutai Chicken Lo Mien that I ate last night. I knew we shouldn't have ordered from Wutai Two.

I'm freaking cursed. Son of a –

Hold that thought.

Ugh.

Man, I hate throwing up. It's the worse thing in the world, seriously. I can't remember the last time I threw up, and honestly, I don't care to. Well, at least we know what pain in the ribcage area means now.

Hang on. Let me try to empty my stomach…again.

My head clumps down unceremoniously onto the seat of the toilet. I hate throwing up…but I have no energy to move my head. I barely have enough to flush the contents of my stomach down the toilet.

UGH.

"Cloud?"

I wearily turn my eyeballs; it's Tifa.

"Ugh."

"Cloud, what's wrong?" she asks, kneeling down to my level.

I don't reply, merely turn my head back to the toilet and let my stomach play mean, cruel games on me.

"Oh! Oh Cloud…" she places a hand on my back as I finish.

She flushes the toilet, and then raises my head with her hands. She presses her hand to my head, it's nice and cool. I think I'm a little delirious.

Hang on…those aren't her pajamas…

Wait a second! I've been looking for that shirt!

Oh great…not again.

"Eck…" Tifa mumbles as I retch into the toilet again. "Oh Cloud, what are we going to do with you?"

I hear her leave, and I would protest, but I'm in no position to speak…let alone move. I'm afraid if I open my mouth, my stomach will betray me yet again.

Then there's a blanket on my bare shoulders, and she tucks it around my back. I glance up at her, and she smiles sadly as she settles herself down beside of me.

"We're going to be here for a while, aren't we?" She asks.

I blink in response.

She rubs my back for a while, and it's not so much I feel the immediate danger of throwing up again, it's merely the fact I'm afraid if I move, I'll set it off.

"'Sum wata?" God that sounded pathetic.

She frowns slightly, "Just a little bit, okay?"

"Mmph."

She gets me some from the tap, and I drink it gratefully. I really want to brush my teeth, though.

I freaking hate throwing up!

It's eight thirty when I throw up again.

But after that, Tifa slowly helps me to my feet. She doesn't want me to sit on the floor anymore, and she thinks now that my stomach might be empty, I may be able to sleep. She drags me to her room, since it's closer, and pulls me onto the bed. I flop onto the bed, the blanket she brought me earlier still clinging to my shoulders.

"Come here, sick one." she states, sitting up against her head board.

I roll over and rest my head on her stomach, which is exactly what she had planned…or at least, that's what I had planned.

The slow, gentle rise and fall of her stomach doesn't put me to sleep, but it does lull me into a peaceful state of mind. She runs her fingers through my hair, and hums softly, a few words escaping her lips every now and then. I don't recognize the tune, but it's soothing.

My eyes open. Ten thirty. Must've fallen asleep. My eyes rise, to where Tifa's still sitting. She's still awake, and I don't think she's been asleep at all.

I give a small smile, and she smiles in return.

Oh bloody hell.

I roll out of bed quickly, catching Tifa by surprise, and stumble out the door.

I start throwing up again…and then dry heave.

Dry heaving freaking sucks!

Tifa stands behind me again, and I finish off, breathing heavily. Who knew throwing up could take me down? Man, whatever the hell this is, I hope it doesn't last long. I'm miserable here!

Twelve thirty.

Tifa's got me propped up on the couch, and I've nodded off a couple times, but I'm apprehensive. I've been throwing up every two hours, and I'm waiting for it to happen now.

Tifa's warned Marlene and Denzel, and they've both asked if they can get anything for me. I just sort of look at them and grunt. Then they ran away.

Two thirty.

Tifa managed to get me to eat a few crackers and then drink a couple sips of juice.

I fell asleep once, and when I woke up, Marlene's teddy bear Chester was tucked into the crook of my arm. I've felt no need to move him, so he remains a victim to a headlock in my sickly moments.

Oh the pain! I don't feel the impending doom of puking again, so at least that much has been fixed. But I ache…like, down to the core. My bones hurt. I should drink some milk, but I hate milk. They say milk is good for your bones. Maybe if I drink some milk, then maybe I'll feel better.

'It doesn't work that fast dumbass.'

What was that?!

Chester? Are you speaking to me?

Silence.

I look around the room, paranoid. Great, now I'm sick, achey, and delusional! What a day this has turned out to be!

Four fifteen.

Ugh.

I'm currently face down on my bed, as if I'm embracing it, Chester is trapped beneath my arm. Sleep still eludes me, though I'm trying to figure out how that is possible. I haven't slept since……well…it's been a really long time…I can't do math right now! My bones hurt!

At least I got to brush my teeth.

Tifa's sitting on the bed beside of me, she sighs. She's running her hand through my hair again, and I close my eyes. It's a good thing Marlene and Denzel can take care of themselves for the most part, because this day would suck even more if Tifa weren't here.

I just wish someone would put me out of my misery.

You know chocobos? They shoot them, you know, when they break a leg. It's cheaper, and they aren't always guaranteed a full recovery if you give them medical treatment. So, they say it's out of mercy to just shoot the damned thing.

That's what I am…a lame chocobo.

Someone please shoot this lame chocobo.

'Damn, he really must be sick to be referring to himself as a chocobo. Anytime I ever called him that, he threw a shoe at my face.'

Someone take pity on me and shoot me.

'We can't kill you! How bout this…I'll shoot you in the foot…with a bow and arrow…don't know how that'll help…but it's some type of pity, right?'

If you won't shoot me, will someone please shoot the mocking voice that keeps talking?!

Please!

'Don't worry, Cloud…I'll shoot him for you.'

'Hey! I'm not the lame chocobo here! He is!'

"Cloud, you feeling any better?" Tifa asks from somewhere above.

I crack an eye open.

"Mmmph." That's all the response I can muster.

She smiles at me, "Whatever you say, Cloud."

...she can't understand me...hmmm...this could possibly work to my advantage...granted, she might not have a clue what I say, or understand it...but that doesn't mean I didn't say it. Yeah, Vincent will have to accept that!

"Eff..."

She raises her head.

She laughs, "Alright Cloud. Sure thing."

Hmm...she doesn't even realize I just said her name.

'It's time to go to sleep, Cloud.'

The voices are making sense now…

There's sheer silence, then the sound of a drop of water falling.

"Sleep well." Tifa states, kissing me on my lips.

"Eff..." I mumble wearily, my eyes closing, "Mi muv moo."

And it all turns blissfully dark.

A/N: Poor Cloud! Random, sort of, I know...but I couldn't get the thought of Cloud referring to himself as a lame chocobo. And there's a little bit of Zack and Aerith for ya! Yes, those were the voices, and yes Cloud was that sick that he didn't recognize them. Seems that Aerith finally took pity on his poor soul and gave him relief! Bout time woman! And you guys can just guess what 'Mi muv moo' means. I think it's cute. SO There's a story to this...I WAS Getting ready to post a piccy up on DA for youse guys...but of course, they go into read-only freaking MODE! SO I had to delay this chappie, because Tis a GIFT FOR ALL OF YOU for being so kind, and even READING my story...like really, I never thought Diaries would get this far...but, it has...and so...I bet you all can figure out what this pic is from! LIke the tittle doesn't give it away...der. So! Just click on me homepage, and it should be up there. I read all of your reviews, but I have no strength to reply. I'm exhausted. BUT I still love you, and I hope you enjoy your piccy! And it's not just for the reviewers/favers/alert...ers...It's for everyone whose even gave this story a chance, and that in itself is enough to make me happy. Later loves!