House: Oh dear, seems as if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. Well, one can’t really try to reveal background while moving in the present while not stepping over some lines. Truth is, not everything goes exactly chronological, and to get the workings of the inner mind of someone such as Cloud, who is obviously engrossed with his past, you have to have something to go on. But I’ll consider that a slap on the hand and try not to do it again. At least, not without proper supervision.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not hers. I guess a nail gun would work to keep the story in place, but the only problem with that is the possibility of killing it by getting trigger-happy. To avoid possible casualty, feed story with reviews please. It would make me happy, and it would keep DR’s proverbial nail gun in its holster…if they make holsters for nail guns. Maybe they do…hmmm…

Cloud always found solace in the rain. Perhaps it was because the rain reminded him of Aerith. He wasn’t sure. Sometimes, when it rained, he could almost feel her with him, consoling him and guiding him through whatever it was he needed to do. The thought was comforting.

I don’t deserve that comfort, he thought sullenly, dismounting from Fenrir and walking into yet another inn. Part of him wanted to sleep outside, in the falling liquid precipitation, but another part of him, the logical part still hanging on by a mere thread, told him that he shouldn’t stay out in the cold. He would surely catch pneumonia or something.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. He partially thought he deserved some kind of suffering, other than the insomnia that had recently plagued him for the past couple of days.

The nightmares were getting worse. It was almost as if they didn’t wait for him to fall asleep, instead choosing to play from the inside of his eyelids whenever he closed them. Squeezing his eyes shut didn’t help; it only gave him a headache. He could never succeed in blocking out all the bad thoughts that arose in his mind.

The blond ignored the throbbing in his head as he stepped up to the front desk, registered for a room, and the paid the innkeeper. Sack of personal effects already in hand, he silently ascended the stairs, step by lamentable step. Finally reaching the room, he set his sack beside the bed and removed his sword, leaning it against the wall. He looked around, examining his surroundings.

Another listless night, he thought, causing himself to wonder just when he’d started saying words like “listless.”

The same name that had been bothering him since that horrible day hit him like one of those high-speed freight train back in Midgar.

Vincent. He’d probably been listening to Vincent talk for too long, and had somehow started speaking as eloquently as he did. Cloud smiled briefly as he remembered how the dark-haired man had sounded when talking to him about something…anything…just the low-pitched sound of the gunman’s voice was enough to turn him inside out.

The blond sighed and started chewing on his lower lip, trying to think of something other than his dead lover for once. He vaguely wondered how everyone else was doing. Maybe he’d even call one of these days, just to check in. He knew he’d sleep easier just knowing that the others were okay. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything when he called, just hanging on the line long enough to catch a snippet of a recognizable voice before hanging up.

Of course, Tifa would be expecting that. She always seemed to know when he called, even without checking the caller ID. He even remembered picking up the phone once, getting ready to do a call-and-hang-up check, when his cell rang and sure enough, Tifa was on the other end. He hadn’t actually been thinking straight when he’d answered his phone. It was something he rarely did, usually when he was too caught up in something to really pay attention.

He smirked. Good thing it was only calls that caught him off-guard. Of course, sometimes the calls were just as painful as getting shot or stabbed…even to the point where he wished someone had come along and wounded him, just to save him from the affliction apparent in Tifa’s voice.

He knew he hurt her, as much as he tried not to. For some reason, no matter what he did, he was always hurting someone. Tifa had said that it would be all too easy for him to come back to Seventh Heaven, maybe get some work, try to patch things up.

But, as much as he did miss being in the company of his friends, he wouldn’t dare go back. The thought that something could happen to one of them on his account was too much to bear, and was far worse than him not answering their calls.

Sure, Yuffie’s calls had a tendency to bug him more and more, as she had a bad habit of calling in spurts and clogging up his voicemail, and he often found him chest aching after one of the kids would call…

In fact, Denzel sounded older and older every time he’d leave a message. Part of Cloud wanted to call and make sure he was being good and taking care of Marlene and Tifa, but that would sound too much like something a parent would do. Despite his deep affection for both children, he could hardly think of them as his own.

Cloud yawned, making him painfully aware of just how tired he was. Fatigue was a funny thing. It snuck up on you when you least expected it to. He stretched out and laid on the bed, extending his legs out for a change, instead of sleeping curled up like a frightened animal. Surprisingly, sleep came easy for the blond as he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, uninterrupted by nightmares or his own subconscious.