The Spirit of Hangar 09

A/N: So this was done as a little oneshot for Halloween. It originally started as a full-out story, but I decided to just cut most of the idea off and just format it as a oneshot instead. But it's a hint of Cid/Zack although they're more of acquaintances or maybe friends here instead of anything else. But it's them because Cid/Zack is love and hardly anyone writes it. *sighs* Oh well...

The Spirit of Hangar 09
Zack Fair wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Far from it. He wasn’t frightened by the ridiculous cutouts that the cadets slapped up on their walls as a scant form of decoration during this silly holiday of Halloween and he wasn’t frightened of the wiggling fingers of his comrades as they hid under white sheets and make sounds at him. Even the elaborate plans they all made in their free time of setting someone up on a rolling chair, decking them out to look like some vengeful ghost with a dull sword covered in “bloody” ketchup and shoving them down the hall as the newer cadets stepped into said hallway couldn’t rattle him. No, Zack Fair wasn’t afraid of ghosts or goblins or zombies.

But spirits were another question.

He shivered a bit as he walked down the dark corridor and thought over the differences. Yes, there were differences, at least in Zack’s head. Ghosts were made-up things that people used to scare other people. They weren’t real, they didn’t go haunting around old places looking for victims and they didn’t say “boo!”. But spirits… Spirits were the remains of those who just couldn’t make it to the other side and were stuck here for some reason. They looked like normal people (with some small changes), they haunted places because of reasons other than to scare people, and they usually didn’t know they were dead. At least, that was how it worked in Zack’s mind.

Granted, he had never actually encountered a spirit, but he had seen one. Several times, actually. And this spirit happened to be most confusing as Zack just couldn’t figure out why it was where it was.

He slowed as he walked, the sound of his footsteps echoing back to him alerting the fact that he was stepping too heavily. Taking a breath, he eased his steps, satisfied when he hardly heard them. Normally it was good to announce one’s presence in a dark hallway, but not when one was stalking a spirit. And this spirit in particular tended to be very skittish.

The door to the hangar loomed ahead of him and the cadet stopped completely, swallowing hard. It wasn’t that he was scared. He was just… anxious. He had been running into this spirit for about two weeks now, but had never thought to try and catch him. Now normally he would have called anyone trying to capture a spirit insane, but obviously this wasn’t a normal event.

He had his reasons. For one, he wanted to know why the spirit was there. And two, what had happened that forced it to be stuck to that spot, never leaving the hangar. And three… he was just overly curious about what the spirit might do when confronted. It seemed harmless enough, especially with the way it ran all the time when he or anyone else opened the doors loudly, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was harmless. He wanted to know if this spirit would attack, just run or end up talking to him.

The door was cold to the touch which wasn’t all that surprising figuring it was late at night. Hardly anyone was out wandering around past midnight and, technically, he wasn’t even supposed to. Curfew included the complex, so he was legally allowed to be only in the cadet barracks beyond 2300 hours. But Zack had never been one to let too many rules keep him bound. And when given something as curious as a spirit haunting the hangar, he was guaranteed to go see what it was all about.

A small creak sounded as he pushed the door, peeking through the window. A faint light, one of the work lights set around, was on and drawing a small area out of the darkness. Zack raised a brow as he looked around, finally catching sight of the spirit working on the rear of the single-engine plane parked in the hangar. At first he wasn’t sure if it was the right figure because it was half-hidden behind an oil drum housing a toolbox, but the grease-stained standard khakis and olive shirt combined with that shaggy blond hair made him nod in agreement: it was the spirit, goggles, cigarette and all.

Zack snorted lightly as he slipped inside of the large room, making sure that the door closed silently. That was something he had always wondered about and that had first tipped him off that the figure might be a sprit. They were explicitly told not to smoke in the hangar. Hangars were filled with oil stains and spilled gas and other such flammable liquids and gasses, things that cigarettes could easily spark into and cause a fire. Since there hadn’t been any fires in the hangar in the two weeks that Zack had known the figure to be occupying the hangar, obviously the spirit was smoking spirit-cigarettes.

He frowned, realizing for the first time how silly that sounded. But it was the only plausible explanation he could come up with at the moment, so he accepted it, silly or not. Inching around the outer edge of the hangar, he kept himself tucked into the shadows and behind the crates of cargo and supplies. It really wasn’t that hard sneaking up on this spirit. He expected more of a challenge, really.

A soft mutter of a curse reached his ears and he jerked his head up to see the spirit moving close, stopping to root through several tools that had been tossed aside. Zack paused, tilting his head to inspect the spirit since this was the closest he had ever been. It was interesting, seeing how normal the spirit appeared. Under the shaggy blond hair peeked out sky blue eyes, constantly moving across the objects in front of and around him. The spirit’s face was clean-shaven, the young face giving away that the man the remnant arose from couldn’t have been much older than the cadet himself when he had died.

Even more curious about the spirit’s past, Zack inched forward until he was nearly face-to-face with the eerily lit face framed by messy golden hair. Only a few boxes and crates were in the way, blocking Zack from sight just enough. The guy must have died some weird, special death to still be going on like this. He breathed out, wondering if there’s was some grisly story about a flying propeller chopping the spirit’s original body in half or some horrible explosion, ironically caused by the cigarette dangling precariously from the pale pink lips.

The box in front of his face suddenly moved, glove-encased hands lifting it quicker than Zack could react. He froze, just staring back at the shocked blue gaze focused on him. “Uh… hi,” he mumbled with a small grin, waving his hand a bit.

His words seemed to have broken the sort of trance the spirit had been captured in, the bright eyes going wide as they flicked to his uniform and the sword strapped to Zack’s waist. The pink lips opened, the cigarette falling to tumble harmlessly on the concrete floor as the look of shock increased. Only a moment passed before the spirit darted away, scrambling haphazardly across the mess of tools and parts scattered around the plane.

“H—hey! Wait!” Jumping up, Zack tried his best to catch up. Unfortunately, the spirit had quite a good head-start on him and probably knew this hangar far better than the cadet did. After all, the guy had been haunting it for who knew how long. “Wait! I just wanna talk!”

When the spirit kept running, Zack huffed. He doubted he could catch the spirit now and obviously yelling at him wasn’t going to work. Halting abruptly, the cadet grimaced and whirled his short sword out of the sheath. His idea wasn’t exactly practical, but it worked in his mind, at least somewhat. Planting his feet firmly, he swung hard, the cord wrapped hilt slipping easily from his loosened fingers. He held the pose, waiting to see if the blade skidding across the floor did its job or not, his breath held.

However, Zack was a little too familiar with how things never worked as planned. Instead of tripping the spirit, the blade skittered off to the side of the blond, planting itself deep within the edge of a cargo crate. Yet luck seemed to favor him that night as the blue gaze flicked to the spinning sword as it passed the spirit, distracting him just long enough to miss the stray box jutting into his path.

A loud grunt followed the crash as the spirit stumbled into the obstacle. His feet hit the obstacle with such force that he fell face-first, momentum working to send his heels flying over the blond head, the olive-cloaked back slamming into the concrete floor with a thump. Zack froze, gaping at the still hand showing around the edge of the box, the only part of the spirit now visible to him. He panicked at first then realized that spirits couldn’t die twice and relaxed. No, he couldn’t kill a spirit. He just… stunned it. …Right?

He grew worried and a little unsure when the hand still refused to move. “Uh… hey… are you okay?” he asked, inching closer. More of the body slowly came into view and he swallowed hard, anxious that maybe he could kill a spirit. “Hello?”

Silence answered him, only driven away by the loud groan that made him jump. “Fuck…”

Zack’s brow rose as the rough voice growled the curse. Evidently he hadn’t done too much damage. “Hello?” he called again, stepping closer still. He was about to peek over the box when the hand suddenly moved and gripped the top of the wooden slat, a head following soon after. “What the fuck d’ya think you’re fuckin’ doin’?! Who the fuck throws a fuckin’ sword at people? You know what the fuck ya coulda fuckin’ done? Fuck!” His face was nearly red from the shouting, his chest heaving from what was probably a combination of shock and breathlessness. “Seriously man, what the fuck?”

The cadet’s mouth gaped as if he were unsure of what to say in response to the outburst. “I… I’m sorry. I just wanted you to stop.” Flashing an unsteady yet apologetic smile, he shrugged. “I just sort of acted on instinct.”

“Instinct? Instinct? Your fuckin’ instinct told you to throw your fuckin’ sword at me? What kind of a fuckin’ lunatic does shit like that?” Stumbling to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height, the olive-clothed spirit glared at Zack. It was intimidating, or at least would have been if the cadet hadn’t been at least three or four inches taller than the fuming figure standing before him. “Well?”

Violet eyes widened a little at the insistent tone, glancing aside. “I said I was sorry. But I honestly did just want to talk to you, but you wouldn’t stop when I asked.” At the utter shock written across the spirit’s face, Zack continued. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but you run off every time the door opens. How else am I supposed to catch you?”

The spirit frowned heavily. “You’re one of Soldier’s lapdog’s, right?” When Zack’s mouth opened to retort, he shook his head. “Cadet. Whatever. Trainee. You’re essentially a lapdog ‘cause ya run around with your happy ass a-waggin’ to do whatever they ask ya to.”

“It’s not exactly like that…”

“Don’t matter. That’s what ya are, right?” He waited for the dark-haired head to nod before continuing. “Yeah. You an’ me? We’re not ‘sposed to be in the same place at once.”

“Wait… what?” Zack shook his head. This spirit was pretty much talking nonsense and he had just started something of an actual conversation with him. There wasn’t even time for nonsense to start spilling out, but somehow this… shadow of a person had managed it.

“You’re Soldier. I’m not. Boss said not to cross paths with ya’ll. Some shit about priority an’ whatever the hell else. I sure as fuck don’t agree that a buncha little pansy kids should get priority over the hangars when that’s my turf.” He punctuated the comment with a sharp stab of a finger to the cadet’s chest, the force of it giving away that he had held in this particular issue for a long time. “But I do it anyway ‘cause I sure as fuck don’t wanna lose this job. ‘S the only one I got an’ I can’t afford to lose it ‘cause I stuck around to put one of your little friends in their place.”

At that Zack felt his astonishment fade, replaced by a sense of injury. “Hey. I don’t go around insulting people like you, do I? No. So don’t go insulting my friends like that. I don’t care if you’re some bone-dead ghost or spirit or whatever you are, keep that stuff to yourself, thank you very much.”

“Ghost?” The spirit’s face abruptly changed, breaking into laughter a moment later. You think I’m dead? You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, you have to be! You’re standing in the middle of an oil spill, practically, and you’re smoking but you haven’t blown up yet! So those aren’t real,” Zack stated as he waved a hand toward the crumpled pack of cigarettes stuffed under the strap of the flight goggles fastened securely around the blond head. “Also, I’m pretty sure that fall would have killed a live person so you must already be dead.” He looked triumphant, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring the wide-eyed spirit to prove him wrong.

Unfortunately, he didn’t expect the blond to huff loudly and then shuffle through his pockets to toss an ID at him. He barely caught it, reading over it quickly after an inquisitive look toward the other. “’Cid Highwind, Aerospace Research and Development’ And this means…”

“That I’m not dead.” A gloved finger arched over the card, tapping a single line. “See when this was issued? Can’t be dead if I got it last month, can I?”

Zack frowned, not sure what to think. He remembered the new ID release last month so the spirit wasn’t lying. “I guess you could’ve died within the last month…” A palm whacked him in the forehead and he stumbled back, disoriented. “What was that for?”

“I’m not dead, ya dumb fuck! Ya felt that so obviously I’m solid. If I was some ghost or some shit, wouldn’t I go right through ya?” Tilting his head, the spirit named Cid gave him an irritated glare. “An’ it sure as hell don’t look like I’m goin’ right through ya so give it the hell up!” He whacked the cadet’s forehead once more, following as Zack wavered back again.

“All right! You’re not dead! Fine!” Waving his hands to deter any more blows to his head, Zack grimaced. “Just stop hitting me already.” Holding his hands out in front of him, he formed a makeshift shield. “Truce? I’m not going to mess with you so just stop.”

Cid snorted, but made no attempt to strike him again. “Fine. Truce.” A gloved hand extended, this time poised to shake, not to hit. “But only if ya don’t throw your fuckin’ sword at me again, got it?” He raised his hand away, withholding it until Zack nodded in agreement. “Fine. Then a truce it is.”

Taking the offered hand, Zack grinned a little. “Name’s Zack. And… I really am sorry about almost, you know, making you into a spirit and stuff. I didn’t think that would happen.” He gave an almost sheepish smile, his shoulders arching a bit.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Despite his tone of voice, the blond still offered a small grin as well. He only stopped at the loud creak of the door, his eyes shooting to the light pouring through the entranceway. “Shit… I better get goin’. Listen, I’ll, uh… I’ll see ya around.” Hurriedly dropping Zack’s hand and dancing around to gather his few personal tools, Cid rushed past the cadet with a short wave.

Zack watched with a lazy, amused smile as the other disappeared through the rear door. “That was certainly different,” he mused to himself, turning only to whirl around at the small wedge of wood tossed at his back. Frowning, he narrowed his eyes against the darkness outside of the pool of light, just barely catching sight of the blond. “What?” he hissed, slipping stealthily over to the other man.

“Don’t mention this, ‘kay?” Zack raised a brow, but nodded in agreement. “Good. See ya ‘round, kid.” A flash of a grin and he was gone again, leaving only Zack and the hangar as well as a chilly gush of wind.

Snorting out the tiniest hint of a laugh, Zack turned away. Maybe Cid was a spirit after all. He did just sort of… disappear into thin air right then. Shrugging, he started back into the light, shielding his eyes against the bright glare and the people starting to congregate in the center of the area. “Fair! What in the blue blazes to you think you’re doing in here! You’re supposed to be under nightly confinement like everyone else in your squadron! Now I certainly hope you have a good explanation for why you’re here and not in your barrack!”

Zack shrank back a little under his commanding officer’s demand, but only because he was stunned by the outburst. But he let a small apologetic smile slide onto his face again. “Sorry. I heard a weird noise and was wanting to check what it was.”

The officer snorted loudly. “That’s exactly why we’re here. Someone reported a loud disturbance and we’re here to report on what it is.” He waved a hand to the mess scattered across the floor of assorted tools and supplies along with a few new oil spills. Zack couldn’t help but smile as he caught sight of a spent cigarette butt abandoned next to a cargo container, but he quickly swallowed it down. “So you didn’t cause this ruckus?”

“No, sir. No one was here when I arrived. They’d already left, I guess.” He kept his gaze steady, not wanting to glance toward the rear exit and give away Cid’s escape route.

The only reply he received was a growl, the commanding officer’s lip curling slightly. “Fine. Back to your barrack, Fair. And don’t let me catch you out here past your curfew again.”

A quick nod and, with the sharp dismissal from his officer, Zack hurried out of the hangar and down the hallway. He stopped once he was near the barracks, leaning against the hallway wall with a little shake of his head. Cid might not have been a spirit, but he sure was strange enough to be one. Shaking his head again, he gave a little laugh and pushed off of the wall toward the barracks. He half-wondered if the same thing would happen tomorrow night or if suddenly there would be no record of one Cid Highwind. After all, weird things happened past midnight on Halloween night.