Whump Prompt: Sleep Deprivation

Cloud couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. Hells, he'd just like to have more than two or three hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness… something twitched uncomfortably in the back of his mind, that he didn't want that actually, nonsensically insisting he'd slept enough for the rest of his life. He'd fall asleep and inevitably jerk awake an hour later - an hour if he was lucky that is.

Rolling over, he stared at the blank wall his bed was pressed up against, eyes burning and head swimming with exhaustion. His body ached and no position was particularly comfortable as his muscles twitched restlessly. He was tired, he should be tired, he'd barely slept the day before and he'd not stopped going all day - all night he'd spent running, riding, fighting and fighting and fighting. It wasn't as though he was soft or something, a SOLDIER First had a much more strenuous workload so he should be used to this…right?

There was nothing he could do to fight it as he curled in on himself, a spike of pain flaring at the base of his skull and shivering beneath his scalp in a way that made him cringe. He clutched at his head, the room glitching around him like a faulty television full of static and the green glow of… of…

Cloud swallowed against the nausea as the fit, whatever it was, passed. He wondered how long he'd been lying there, the room still spinning slightly. Bright light leaked in around the edges of the door, casting sickly yellow rays of artificial sunlight across the floor and ceiling. Had it been hours?

He slumped back against the thin mattress, the rickety bed frame creaking as he tried to get comfortable. For a moment, just a few seconds, he winced as the headache returned - this time followed by a sick and heavy feeling in his chest. His eyes slipped closed, a sound nearly getting trapped in his throat - a whimper, as he writhed against the bed. He felt hot, and then cold. So cold. Cold as Mount Nibel in winter.

There was nothing physical trying to weigh him down but he felt heavy regardless, his instinctive struggles weakening until his muscles relaxed. HIs hands clutched at the sweaty sheets beneath him as he arched back against the… whatever it was. Going slowly limp, a soft voice followed the feeling of ghostly hands on his shoulders pressing him deeper into the mattress.

"Sleep," a deep, dark, voice whispered into him and he couldn't help but chase after it. Gods, yes, he wanted to sleep.

"Please," Cloud shuddered, invisible fingers stroking down his face. He let go, sighing, yearning towards the nothingness beckoning him to relax and give in.

"Sleep," the word was so seductive, the need to obey so powerful, "and dream the sweetest dreams."

A sensation like falling began to drag him under and he went willingly, desperately, and the sharp gasp of air in his lungs felt like knives as something brushed over him and pulled him awake. Fists pounded on the door, making him roll to his feet to answer. The danger lent him enough adrenaline to get up, to grab his sword, to keep going again. Always again.

He closed his eyes briefly, stumbling down the stairs more on autopilot than deliberately, and through himself into the fight. He'd sleep… sometime… he hoped.