Slowly emerging from behind the mountains, the sun was spreading its arms wide, as if to yawn out over the eastern continent. This new, clear day had broken as a strange interruption to the intermittent rains of the early autumn. In one room, high up in a wooden tower, an unbroken stream of sunlight was pouring through a paneless window, stirring one young woman prematurely from her sleep.

Cissnei shifted on her thin mattress as consciousness began to nudge at her. She wiped a hand across her half closed eyes, trying to adjust to the light forcing its way into her small room. She clutched her blanket around her. Everything was brighter than she'd expected.

Reaching with one arm to the floor she grasped at the loose blouse and long skirt that lay folded at the side of her bed. She slipped them on, making her way to the window. Just outside of the settlement she could see a small burnt patch of grassland, standing out like a scar on the otherwise perfect landscape. So it wasn't a dream. She had really stood there last night, staring into the flames as they danced their merciless dance.

She remembered everything so vividly. The way that she had so carefully unpacked her hold-all. One by one she'd taken out each item: her uniform; her PHS; the cameras. All were laid out onto the timber, ready for the blaze. She had lingered for a moment over each piece, trying to come to terms with what she had decided to do.

She remembered the thoughts that had run through her head. She'd held her jacket, a little crumpled by then from the journey, in her open palms. She'd worn it, or others like it, every day. Now, suddenly and without warning, she'd never wear it again. Silently, she'd placed it on to the logs that she'd gathered earlier that day.

She'd dipped into the bag once more, this time taking out her PHS. She'd run her fingers over the smooth metal and plastic, her reflection just visible in the polished surface. That had been her last link to her old life. But it had seemed somehow inadequate; the path she had chosen bore far more significance than could possibly be conveyed by these few remaining objects. Her life, as long as she could remember, had been tied up with ShinRa. She was a child when the company had taken her in, and they'd been kind to her. There were so many friendships that she'd made over the years, so many people that she would never see again. Everyone she knew was connected in some way to the company. When these last few remnants of who she'd used to be were consumed, she'd be completely alone.

It had been all she could do, in that moment, to keep herself from flipping open the phone she was still holding, and franticly punching in the number of Tseng's secure line. Maybe it was not too late; the company might not have been alerted yet. Maybe there was still time to forget all this madness and return to how things were. But the memory of the two items remaining in her holdall had prodded at the back of her mind, so she'd pressed on.

Almost as soon the tips of her fingers had touched the final objects for the fire, understanding had returned. She'd remembered again the exhilarated courage she'd had when she'd first removed these from Sector 8. Taking one of the tiny cameras in between the thumb and forefinger of each hand it felt as if they'd sent forth a dozen old memories surging beneath her skin, every one screaming its justification for what she'd decided to do. These had stored data that showed one of Zack's friends accosting a military sergeant for news of Zack's fate. She'd taken these them to protect him. As far as the company were concerned his actions were rebellious. Who knows what the punishment would have been? Firing? Death? Worse?

A familiar sensation had squeezed at her chest as she'd remembered the lengths that ShinRa had been prepared to go to before. She'd remembered catching sight of Zack on the beach near Nibelheim; she'd remembered the realisation that had trampled without remorse over her naïve perceptions of ShinRa and their motives. She'd remembered looking fearfully into his eyes that day, not allowing herself to wonder how he'd been treated for all those years in the lab. And she remembered Reno's report of his body, bloodied and abandoned on the battlefield. That was why she was leaving ShinRa.

She hadn't even realised she was crying until she felt the splash of her own teardrops as they fell upon her arms and hands. She'd bowed her head then, her chest heaving in silent sobs. And, finally, slowly, she'd placed the phone and cameras on top of her folded uniform. And she'd set them all ablaze.

It had been so much darker then, deep clouds had hung overhead, heavy with the threat of rain. She'd stood with her back to the settlement, so the only light she could see for miles was the cruel flickering of the fire, as it lapped menacingly at the atmosphere around it. But in such a short space of time, the fire, the rain clouds, the weighty sorrow that hung from Cissnei's shoulders; all were gone. It was as if all the hurt and grief of the night before had become somehow bound up in the murky sky and shattered with the breaking morning.

Looking out over the charred earth now, it was hard to believe it was the same place. The scorch marks were unattractive, perhaps, but now, with the sun shining valiantly over the area, it didn't hold any of the misery it had the night before. It was no longer a symbol of the end of her life with ShinRa. In fact, it was something else all together.

It was a new start.

--

The room had been thoroughly swept for bugs, any phone calls had been made on his PHS, on a secure line, and he was meeting his staff in Kalm, away from Midgar and Shinra's surveillance. Tseng had taken every precaution that could possibly be needed, but still he couldn't prevent his stomach from somersaulting as he waited for the others to arrive.

He pulled a chair from under the table near the windowsill and sat down. Leaning forward, he ran a hand over his hair, breathing deeply to try to calm his worries. True, he shouldn't underestimate ShinRa. He wasn't foolish enough to think that their powers of investigation began and ended with the Turks. The President's influence, whether born out of respect or fear, spread virtually across the whole of Gaia. There were few powers in existence that ShinRa couldn't tap into if they so chose. If things developed that way, they would be a devastating opponent.

But neither should he underestimate his own powers. Many years of service with the Turks had taught him how to cover his tracks. And more importantly it had given him quite an insight into how Shinra handled their operations.

"So," Reno declared, bursting through the door of the inn, "What's with the change of location, boss? Not that I'm complaining… you should get some of these comfy touches for your office."

He bounced on to the bed in the corner.

Tseng smiled. "I'm glad that you approve. Come in, Rude."

Rude moved to sit on the other single bed, as Tseng turned his chair to face them.

Reno fidgeted on the mattress. His professionalism, such as it was, was battling his curiosity. It didn't take long for curiosity to prevail. "Boss. You've got us meeting off base, using secure phone lines… you gonna tell us what's going on?"

Tseng met Reno's questioning gaze for a moment before looking to the floor. He sighed. "It's about time that both of you knew."

Tseng met each man's eyes in turn. "Cissnei has left the Turks."

Reno's jaw dropped. "Not because of the SOLDIER boy?"

He stared expectantly at Tseng, but there was no answer to be found in his boss' expression.

"Cissnei wasn't comfortable with the company's agenda, but we're not here to interrogate her motives. I'm sure you both know the danger that she's in."

Tseng didn't expect a response. Reno and Rude knew as well as he did the penalty for leaving the Turks. At any rate, the tense silence that had fallen in the room was answer enough.

Eyes wide, Reno could only splutter in amazement. Even when his powers of speech finally returned, he could manage only, "Why would she…?"

"It's none of our business" answered Rude firmly before Tseng had the chance to speak. He looked to his superior. "What do we do?"