First off: To everyone coming back, welcome back! I'll try to keep the chapters rollin' as smoothly as possible. To everyone who's new: welcome, and please go read C'est la Vie at your convenience. This work will have references to the characters already mentioned in the prequel, so you'll have a lot better idea what's going on if you do. (It's long, I know, and some of it's boooorrrring, I know. But I can't write Die Hard.)

So without further ado, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

Prologue

If there's anything you want, anything at all,
Come to me... I'll be your guardian angel.

-Inscription found on the statue of the angel in Midgar Edge

Midgar was no more; the planet itself had seen to it, as if it wished to mete out punishment to the city which had been arrogant to rise so high and mighty, above the nature's orders. The tall buildings had crumbled, leaving a jagged skyline to anyone who dared trespass into the wasteland, where once a million people had lived and breathed, forming an oddly misshapen pyramid with Rufus Shinra at the apex.

Renaldo Miller, age twenty-six, was not entirely sure if he had existed at the city's nadir, or close to the summit. He was not sure if it actually mattered, or if he cared. All he knew was that the city he had built his life in was gone, and despite all the grouchings and whining he had done - hell, nobody actually had liked Midgar - the city so aptly named 'The Rotten Pizza' was the only place he had his life in, and to have it shattered to the ground was not a pleasant experience. Even now.

It was a cold morning, with fog obscuring the windows, as if blindness to reality was some sort of a blessing bestowed from the sky, but the sleep shoved the unborn reality a little too harshly for his comfort.

"No!"

His cry went unheard, and his fingers, extended, touched nothing but air as the image dissipated into the mist. There was no direction, just the white haze, and she kept appearing like a mirage, only to disappear when he got near. She looked sad, her face haggard, and when he had come so close to touching her, she simply shook her head and disappeared. If he could cry, he would, but no tears would come out, and the hollowness in his stomach just got bigger and bigger, as if it was a black hole that was growing, threatening to swallow him up…

With a gasp, the redhead woke up, felt the chill of the cold air against his shoulder, and rolled over, reaching for his… his what? He wasn't sure of this either, needless to say, the woman who occupied the spot next to him had a complicated relationship with him that went beyond and over the boundaries of a romantic relationship. Camaraderie, affection, hatred, annoyance, and everything in between lay between them, like a heavily seasoned stew with so many ingredients no one quite knew what to call it.

He opened his eyes in dismay when he realised the spot was… empty. The coverlet had settled down long ago, telling him the occupant of the bed had left its comfort some time before, leaving him to his slumber. The sheets under it had gone cold, and when he looked beyond the bed and to the dresser, the clothes were gone. He frowned, trying to listen to the noise of the lodge, trying not to panic. The dream had not been real, but across the sleepy threshold between reality and illusion, this was a bit too much. He tried to concentrate, trying to ignore the irrational fear that she was gone.

The lodge they were occupying was one of the lodges owned by the president of the now defunct Shinra Company. Remodelled to serve the Geostigma patients, the structure was close enough to Midgar without being too conspicuous, and so the president - Rufus Shinra, age twenty-five - had decided to remain there, making the structure overlooking the hell his lair, his den, and his abode. Reno could not help thinking of it as some kind of a lair of a predatory animal, lying in wait to pounce on whatever poor prey that happened to come along. Regardless, the Turks had remained with Rufus, as if the company still existed; Reno had pointed out that he didn't remember getting fired, and the rest of the team had readily agreed. It wasn't like they had places to go or things to do, anyway.

Reno himself had taken residence in the new town being built, called Midgar Edge, or Edge for short, partly because he had wanted some privacy with his… undefinable other in his life who was currently nowhere to be seen. He really needed to come up with a name for that person, who occupied a rather special spot in his life, except that seat had no label attached to it. He usually referred to her as his mate, as partner and buddy were reserved for his best friend, Rude Richardson. But mate made them sound bestial. Elena, Tseng, and Rude occupied the other rooms of the lodge, and the largest room was Rufus's. Reno spent half his time here and the other half in Midgar Edge, a rather bothersome arrangement but the only one he could come up with. And that was how he was in Cliff Resort, sleeping way past the usual hour. They had come in two days before to take over Elena and Tseng's duties, who had left on some assignment that the three didn't know about.

There were noises from the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head, then reached over to turn the clock so he could see the time. It was seven, an ungodly hour by his definition, but clearly not for the ladies of the house. Now to come and think of it, his ever-sensitive nose detected… nuts. And a toasty fragrance of something being baked. And sugar?

He decided to investigate out of a misguided sense of duty and curiosity, but also to abate his anxiety. He looked for clothes, found none, and cursed the weather for a moment. He finally found a T shirt he had been wearing, pulled it on, and then found jersey bottoms. Good enough. Running his slender fingers through his flaming red mane, he ambled toward the kitchen, where it was already bright, warm, and definitely in service.

"Hey, ladies," he yawned, "what in the gods' name possessed you two to… do whatever you're doing?"

The blonde woman opened her mouth to protest, but the taller woman merely raised her dark eyebrow. "Morning, Reno," said his mate. She really had the eyebrow-arching down to an art form. "It's nine-thirty."

"No, it's not. The clock said seven."

"That would be because the clock's out of batteries and you didn't bother doing anything about it," said the woman. "But since when was punctuality your strong point?"

He looked at her sourly. She could be a real kitten when there was no one else around - all sidelong glances, pouts, and her every gesture asking him to, well, show her his affection - but as soon as someone walked into the room, she turned into an ice queen. Arien was like that, but he had recently begun to learn that this was because she was extremely reserved and shy about the fact that she liked him, not some evil ploy to get his attention. Not that it helped. If they had been in bed together this very moment, she'd be throwing her arms around his neck and pouting for a kiss. But now, she stood, ramrod straight, her eyes filled with disapproval. Where did that lovable creature go, every time someone else came in? Did she just evaporate with a poof, only to be replaced by this robot?

"Reno, if you have nothing to do, please get out of the way," came the voice, and he paid attention back to the kitchen. He dodged out of the way as Elena bent down to open the oven, and his nose identified it as the source of the smell that filled the air. Muffins. It was nine-thirty and they were baking muffins. Were they crazy?

"Here," Arien said, as she pulled one out from the baking sheet with a pair of tongs. She put the muffin down on the counter, in front of where he stood.

"What's this?"

"That," she said, as if she was talking to a five-year-old, "would be a muffin."

He glared at her, but she gave a small grin with a jerk of eyebrows, then turned away. Her hair was growing back. He picked up the muffin and went back to the bedroom, biting in as he went. The nutty flavour spread in his mouth, sweet and soft, some falling onto the floor in tiny crumbs. He was going to sleep again. Maybe things would be normal this time.

Or not. Arien seemed to have other ideas. What seemed to be thirty minutes later, she came into the bedroom and flung the windows open. Reno groaned and turned over, burying his face into the pillow. "Leamme alone," he moaned. "I'm tryin' ta sleep…"

She sat down on the bed; his side, or so his brain told him from the way the mattress sank. A gentle hand touched his forehead. "It's eleven," came the soft voice. It was the kittenish Arien, the sweet, loving woman he only knew when no one else was around. He was starting to feel as if he lived with a bizarre incarnation of Jekyll and Hyde. He felt a kiss just below his ear and turned his head to see her face. "Good morning."

"Why were you guys baking?" Reno asked instead of returning the greeting.

"Rufus wanted muffins, and when he says jump, we jump. That, and I think Elena's trying to get to Tseng with food. They came back last night." She laughed. "An old tactic, but a good one. Didn't I get to you the same way too?"

"Actually, I kinda fell into your bed. And that's how we got here in the first place." He sat up, scratching his head. She laughed at his answer, but stopped when she felt his arms around her shoulders. He held her for a moment, remembering the previous year; he had begun dating her, then fought with her, lost her, nearly lost his life… it had been a busy year indeed, and he could only hope this year would be quieter. Quieter, as in, the usual Investigation Sector operations, not a big hunk of rock falling on their heads. That was a bit too much, even for him.

Of course, he should have known that hoping for quietude was a silly thing to do. The world dictated that those who sought adventure never got any, and those who wanted to avoid it always got them.