12th December 2007

It was well past a reasonable time to fall asleep, especially given the pressing demands of the next morning. Tseng knew that all too well as he stared up at his blank ceiling. He needed to keep his mind sharp if he was going to stay ahead of ShinRa, but yet he had still not found a way to shake off the dogged sleeplessness that seemed determined to frustrate his plans.

The clock on his bed stand shone out red with an electronic glow. 2.05. It would be another four hours before Tseng could reasonably escape from his suddenly airless bedroom. He flashed aching eyes around the dim room. His furniture looked blank and featureless in the soft light. ShinRa's metallic buildings made for a cold and unforgiving atmosphere at the best of times, but by night even the few personal effects that usually added colour and warmth to the room, had descended into an empty grey.

It was a strange way to look at the night time, especially when the dusk brought with it such a welcoming peace. But Tseng had found that night, true night, was much less tranquil than appearances would protest. In the dusk, the quiet was resonant, and it was genuine; at night it was only a brittle covering for something more ominous.

Every night he'd wondered if he'd managed to overpower it, not enough for sleep of course, but enough for quiet. Minutes, hours sometimes, stretched out in blissful emptiness, as the self constructed walls in his mind shook, but held fast, against the barrage of memories that threatened siege upon his consciousness.

Sooner or later they always broke down.

Perhaps it was tiredness, or just the strain of keeping a blank mind, but, for all his resolve, he could never make it through an entire night without remembering.

And, exactly the same as every night previous, before Tseng had even noticed it begin, those images were flashing through his mind.

This time it was as if he had himself stood on the plains outside of Midgar, the whirr of the propellers of ShinRa helicopters ringing in his ears. One by one the choppers landed, still on the grass, each spilling forth throngs of blue uniformed militia. In the far distance, a dark figure was striding out onto the dusty landscape. Had he seen them yet? Had he recognised the uniforms? The insignias? Had he realised that after all of his years of serving them, it was the ShinRa Company that would engineer his demise? Did he know that less than an hour from now Tseng would be arranging a way to finish what ShinRa had started when they'd taken Zack's wounded body from the Nibelheim reactor?

Wiping clean the slate of his existence.

Gaia only knew what destruction Zack had saved its people from when he took on Sephiroth. But as far as the ShinRa Company were concerned he had crossed a line. Simply by witnessing Sephiroth's rebellion, Zack had become entwined in it. The most feared and respected SOLDIER turning on the Company and murdering innocent people… it conflicted with ShinRa interests. The Company couldn't allow it, and they couldn't allow it to be known. And in an instant dozens of fates were signed and sealed. Sephiroth himself and the bulk of the witnesses already lay dead. As far as ShinRa was concerned that was… convenient. As for those that lived, well, they would have to dispose of them personally. And if they could further the Science program at the same time, well, all the better…

Tseng threw himself upright in bed, his fingers grasping at his loose hair. He couldn't think about this any longer. He needed to force his mind to a different topic. Or to an absence of thought… of course that was the ideal, but it was something that he could never lastingly achieve.

He grasped for the dressing gown that hung from a peg at the side of his bed, and paced over to the window, staring dully at the thin beams of moonlight that dodged their way past his blinds. The worst part of it all was that no matter who he remembered, sometimes it was Zack, sometimes Cissnei, the truth of the matter was that their names took up barely a fraction of the long list of his misdeeds. Every cover up, every smoothing over, every piece of history rewritten in the Company's favour had impacted on someone with the same cold horror that ShinRa's pursuit of Zack and Cissnei had aroused in Tseng. How many other Zacks and Cissneis had Tseng encountered in his long years as a Turk? How many lives had he destroyed under the banner of protecting Company interests? The Turks facilitated so many atrocities. It was because of Tseng and his work that the Company could continue to do as they pleased. And for years Tseng had barely even noticed.

He span, frustrated, away from the window. He was doing it again! He ran a shaky hand over his forehead. He needed something to really take his mind off things. And while he was up he might as well get some work done. He made his way sleepily to the desk in the corner and, flipped open his laptop as he slumped into the seat. Reno had reported meeting an unfamiliar man earlier that day who wore a First Class SOLDIER uniform. The uniform must have been stolen; there was no doubt about it. If the man had been a genuine First Class Reno would have at least recognised him. But the strange thing was that Reno had sworn that the man was mako infused, and whilst uniforms and weaponry could be stolen, nothing could be done to fake that unnatural mako glow.

Tseng hammered on his keyboard with swift and methodical taps. The page he was looking for sprang at once to his monitor. Company Employment History. If this man had had a mako transfusion then he had served in SOLDIER, there was no other explanation for it. It was just a matter of finding him…

With a sigh, Tseng reached for the mouse and called his message inbox to the screen. With any luck Reno would have already sent the email he'd promised, describing the incident… Ah. Here it was. Tseng scanned the page to find a description of the man in question.

In an instant Tseng's eyes widened, his chest constricted. A handful of words leapt from the screen with a haunting familiarity.

Male… early twenties… SOLDIER First Class uniform…spiky hair... oversized sword…

And lastly the location of the incident:

The Church in Sector 5… with Aerith.

Tseng's mind was swimming. He blinked at the screen, as if it would somehow change the words displayed there. This couldn't be. It was impossible! He ran a hand through his dark hair and tried to get a hold of himself.

Of course it was impossible! So there was a few similarities between one man and another… there was nothing strange in that. Zack was dead. Even disregarding the vast numbers that were sent against him, if there was any chance at all Zack had survived Rude and Reno would not have left him on the hillside, Cissnei would not have permitted it. Tseng smiled weakly. That much, at least, was certain.

Wearily, he recalled the Employment history to the screen. He'd feel a lot better once he'd pinpointed the identity of this stranger. He reached for the mouse and hit the folder marked SOLDIER. This would all be solved in no time…

But he couldn't quite silence that stubborn concern in the back of his mind. It seemed awfully as if something, be it his own paranoia or otherwise, was playing tricks with the world around him. Something was determined not to let him forget that long list of offences.