Chapter One: There's This Ghost

There's no such thing as an ex-Turk. I should have known that I couldn't just walk away and never return. That's probably why I didn't burn the damn suit. That's probably why I had a red shuriken between the mattresses. That's probably why I still had Tseng's number programmed as speed dial one on my PHS. That's probably why my ears perked up when I heard a redhead quote LOVELESS at a bar on the Northern Continent. That's probably why I noted the glow to his blue eyes. That's probably why I'm in the position I'm in now.

What position is that? The position of having to go back to work after taking an unauthorized leave of absence for seven some years.

I buttoned my stiff white blouse, slipping a shoulder holster on and fastening it. I loaded my standard issue pistol, slotting a single Restore materia and then holstering the gun. The weight was familiar under my arm. Familiar and comforting. I put a spring-loaded holster on my right wrist and collected my shuriken from between the mattresses. I slotted a Transform materia, linking it with an Added Effect. The shuriken collapsed down and I loaded it into the holster on my wrist. With the right motion, the weapon would snap into my palm, expanding into its large and deadly form.

The suit fit like skin. The tie, tightening around my throat, was a familiar restriction. I checked my reflection. Soft copper curls, large brown eyes, unsmiling lips. Same old Cissnei. How silly of me to think I could just walk away from the suit.

I was tempted to simply call Tseng to report my findings, but . . . but if I called, I'd just fade away quickly, leaving him to deal with this mess. I would be the helpless creature who cried for weeks after Zack's death. I'd be that girl who missed Meteor blazing in the sky because I was lost in a bottle of whiskey. I'd be the girl talking to the ghosts of her past. It was better that I just walk into his office and report in person.

Consequences be damned.

I stole one last look around the room I'd existed in for the last seven years. I didn't feel any connection to it. In the corner there was a full size bed with a hard, lumpy mattress and a cheap blue blanket with stars adorning it. I had too many memories of lying in the bed, staring at the wall, whispering lullabies and crying like a baby.

I wouldn't miss it.

Outside, it was snowing for the first time this year. A few leaves clung stubbornly to the nearly naked trees. By the weekend, the entire area would be coated with the pure white snow that gave the village its name: Snowed Inn. We were south of Icicle Inn and not such a big name in snowboarding. There was a small port. With first snow, the jumpy southern traders would be in full flight. Every year some poor fool stayed long enough to get iced in. The rumors kept the rest moving.

At the dock, I bribed a dockhand to let me board a moored ship bound for Junon. I stayed below decks during the day, but at night . . . there was one part of the north I needed to say goodbye too: the night sky.

The deck was almost deserted. I headed to the stern, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. The sky was pitch-black, un-illuminated by the taint of city lights. The stars were lost to the darkness and large white snowflakes fell in a gentle breeze. I tilted my head to the heavens.

After a while, I heard someone approaching. The footfall was familiar. A sharp snap of boots on a wooden deck. The cadence of his footfall was like music to my ears. "Hey," I said, lips barely moving. My voice was muted by the snow, but he could have heard me even if I hadn't said anything at all. "It's been a while, Zack."

He leaned against the railing, staring at the black, icy waters. "Ahh . . . Cissnei. You don't have to go back, you know."

I didn't look at him directly. He'd vanish if I did that. Instead I leaned against the railing, watching him from the corner of my eyes. His black hair was spikier than usual, but his eyes were still that soul piercing blue. He wore his SOLDIER First uniform, but his sword was absent from his back.

He scratched the back of his head. "You were just getting . . . settled. You ever think of just staying?"

"I can't."

"Someone else can deal with Genesis."

"Like who?"

"Cloud."

"Your friend?" I asked. "The one who failed the SOLDIER entrance exams? I'd rather trust Reno to wear a clean shirt to work. I'm sure he's got a heart of gold, but honestly, this is something the Turks need to be aware of at the very least."

Zack exhaled nosily. "Cloud might not have been in SOLDIER, but he's good. He can fight just as good as Sephiroth with a sword. And he can give Genesis a run for his money in the materia department too."

"Whatever." I debated just walking away from Zack. It couldn't be healthy to talk to the ghosts of one's past, right? Whatever. I'd never be able to just walk away from him. Well, that wasn't true. I walked away in Gongaga, and a short while after that, Zack died.

Zack knocked his hands together. He was always moving, fidgeting. "The point is that . . . you weren't needed for Meteor or the Sephiroth clones or Deep Ground. You could just let this go too. Genesis will make a scene. Someone will recognize him. Someone will stop him. It'll happen. Trust me."

"You're probably right."

"I am right."

"But I don't care. I think that I have to go back. He's the last one, you know. The last of SOLDIER's great Firsts."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Sephiroth, Angeal, and Genesis . . . remember when they were the best that the Planet had to offer? Do you remember how hard you tried to impress Angeal? Do you remember how bad you wanted to be First? Do you remember, Zack?"

"Of course I do."

His voice isn't the same as it was when he was alive. He doesn't have that fire to it anymore. He reminds me of the Zack I met on the shores off the coast of the Nibel plains: worn to the bone, with nothing left to give. I'd give anything for the old Zack back. The one that laughed and smiled easily.

"Do you remember what it feels like to have a dream?"

"Of course - well, actually, maybe not. I don't dream anymore, Cissnei."

"That's too bad."

He turned around, leaning his back against the railing, arms crossed. "Why you, Cissnei? Haven't you given enough?"

I hadn't given anything. I'd stood to the side and let everything fall away like the damn snow that kept falling from the sky. I hadn't done a damn thing when Zack vanished in Nibelhiem. I was a damn Turk. I knew what Hojo was. We all did. And I knew Zack was in there. I justified myself not making a scene because once Hojo got his bony hands on a sample, the sample died pretty quick. I never imagined Zack was still alive. But even if I had known, I probably would have just stood by and watched.

Turks watch really good.

I tried to put it into words a ghost would understand. "Genesis was part of an era. When I first joined the Turks, the Wutai war was in mid-swing. Genesis was the first SOLDIER I worked with. He was amazing. I thought that he was everything SOLDIER should be. And then . . . then he deserted and attacked Midgar. I met a real SOLDIER."

"Really? Who?"

"You."

He was silent.

"I just . . . I've been fading Zack. I want to live again."

"You're gonna die," he said. "Tseng isn't the same guy you used to know. He slapped Aeris and then turned her over to be experimented on by Hojo. He'll kill you if you show up. Or worse. He'll interrogate you, then use you up."

"Use me up?"

"Shinra uses people, Cissnei. Shinra consumes people. Think about it. Angeal dedicated himself to SOLDIER. He was loyal to a fault. And when he got sick, Shinra discarded him. He did what he could to save himself, lost his way, lost faith, and . . . Shinra sentenced him to death. Take Sephiroth – hell, take me for example. What didn't I give them, eh?"

"I don't care. I want to be used up."

Zack shook his head. "Oh, Cissnei, don't say that. You can't mean it."

"I don't know what I mean. All I know is that I don't want to just watch anymore. I want to do something this time."

"Why?" Zack sounded bitter. "You don't have anything to protect Cissnei. No stuff, no people, nothing. Nada, zip, zilch. Just get on the next boat back and at least you'll have that chance. You don't have to be a hero. Heroes don't get anything but sorrow and regret."

I didn't answer.

"Heroes can't save everyone. And the ones they fail . . . haunt them." His lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. "Or they die to protect the ones they love."

"I have something to fight for."

"You're fighting to die," he said. "I was there, you know. I saw you put the barrel of your gun in your mouth. Saw how close you got to pulling the trigger. You're only going after Genesis because you know he won't hesitate to cut you down. Don't ask me to be part of that."

"I'm not asking you for anything," I said.

"Fine. I'll just go then."

I blinked and he was gone. The snow kept falling. I kept my eyes open wide, trying not to let any tears leak from the corners.