Author's Note: This chapter replaces the old chapter twenty-five where Cissnei hooked up with Vincent and Cid and went to rescue Reno in Gongaga Village. Everything I tried to write after that chapter got to melodramatic, so I decided to try again from the point where things went askew for my muse. Hopefully y'all like this better.

As always, reviews make me happy. Hopefully someone is still reading after I've neglected updating this story in so long . . .

Chapter Twenty-five: Liar

No one followed me. I went home. Well, more accurately I went back to my new apartment in Edge. I arrived on the outskirts of the metropolis well after midnight and torched the stolen helicopter by puncturing the fuel tank and hitting it with a Fire spell. The orange flames lit my entry into the city, but there really wasn't anyone around to witness me slipping from shadow to shadow. The sky above was dark, roiling with clouds and no moonlight. The air smelled like the rain.

I've said it before. Edge isn't and never would be my favorite place. It was an ugly city in daylight, full of cool grey buildings, dingy windows, and neon billboards. There was normally a throng of dirty people milling about, mingling with the clean and shiny and respectable people. Tonight it was a ghost town. Except my personal ghost was gone. I was alone and I didn't like it.

By the time I arrived at my apartment building my entire body hurt from exertion and the lingering hurts from my fight with Kunsel. I pretended I was emotionally stable. I'd always been a great liar.

I paused at the security door to the apartment building, scanning the area for the telltale signs of trouble. Across the street the ruins of Seventh Heaven looked like someone had started the rebuilding process by clearing the rubble. A new foundation was already in place, along with the skeleton of the future bar. Good. That meant someone was alive to rebuild.

There were no signs of trouble. No glowing mako eyes or glinting steel blades anyway. Maybe they were just hidden by the moonlight. I shrugged off the feeling that someone was watching me, picked the lock to the security door, and slipped up the steps to my apartment.

Inside I caught the faded scent of cigarette smoke. There was an empty bottle of scotch tipped sideways on the table. It wasn't exactly like I had left it. I drew my stolen diamond sword and checked the apartment warily. No one was there. There was no alcohol either. I'd been pretty sure that I'd had a fifth of vodka in the fridge along with a half case of beer. Briefly I debated hitting a liquor store and getting wasted.

Then I caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror. My copper curls were matted to the side of my head, stiff with blood and mako. There was a dark bruise blossoming on my cheek. My borrowed SOLDIER uniform was torn, bloody, and crusted with filth. It clung to my body, plastered against my skin with sweat and blood and mako. I smelled like one of Hojo's dying science experiments. Ugh. I stripped with a grimace, discarding the clothes Kunsel had loaned me when he tried to rescue me. Underneath my clothes, the lingerie Genesis had left out for me was surprisingly unblemished, pretty white silk and lace. It contrasted disturbingly with my filthy skin and hair. I stripped out of it and made a mental note to burn the damn stuff. Then I hit the shower.

All the while my brain was whirling through plans to save myself from dropping back into the hole I'd fallen into when I'd first lost Zack. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw. I let shampoo seep into my eyes so I could justify my need to cry. Turks don't cry. At least not about people they killed with action or inaction. My shoulders shook with the first sob. Stop it, I ordered myself. I washed more vigorously and started singing a rowdy drinking son Reno taught me:

"Dance on the tables; fall of the bar!

Live a little baby and take five more shots!"

I could really use a shot right about now. I turned off the water and stood still for several minutes, listening to the water fall from the showerhead. I lingered until the droplets racing down my body turned into general dampness.

After a while I toweled myself dry and hit the closet. Several minutes later I was dressed in a fresh navy blue Turk suit, complete with freshly pressed white blouse, gun holster and gun, shuriken holster and backup shuriken, and firmly knotted tie. It felt good to be dressed again.

I stole a glance at the mirror. My reflection stared back. "I'm Cissnei of the Turks," I said, voice quiet. "I don't need a drink. I need to sleep and then I need to wake up." My reflection stared back, silent with red-rimmed eyes and clean bruises. My reflection didn't look like she believed me. Too many lies had already passed between us. I sighed and turned away from the reflection. So much for being a great liar.

I dropped into bed, fully clothed and fell into a dreamless sleep. Hours or minutes later I woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cigarettes. I shifted, muscles stiff from multiple bruises. The mattress groaned with the movement. There was a barely perceptible sound, a rustle of fabric or an intake of breath. I couldn't quite decide. What I knew was that I was not alone.

Fear laced my thoughts. I had locked the door, hadn't I? And surely I would have heard someone entering the apartment, entering my bedroom. Before the fear pushed me from bed, Tseng cleared his throat. "Good morning, Cissnei," he said. His voice was clipped and formal and oh-so-familiar. I sat up quickly, locking eyes with him. He was sitting at by bedroom desk, ankles crossed in front of him, newspaper in hand. The front page picture showed Seventh Heaven in ruins. The headline read "The Return of Sephiroth." Genesis wouldn't be pleased with that.

Tseng's lips twitched in a brief smile and he broke eye contact, sipping his coffee. His dark eyes moved across the page of the paper as he continued reading. I croaked "Good morning, sir," and then watched him read. Part of me was absolutely sure that he was really there. That if I got up and walked to him, I could physically touch his silky black hair. Presuming I was brave enough to touch him and brave enough to risk him not being real. He looked real enough though . . .

He glanced up, meeting my eyes and arching one eyebrow.

I flushed and my eyes watered up against my will. My tongue felt heavy, my throat too tight for words. I wanted to ask him if – or how – he was alive, but just couldn't. Against my will, tears seeped from my eyes and my shoulders shook as I tried to suppress sobs.

Tseng sighed. The paper rustled as he folded it. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. His shoes ghosted whisper quiet across the floor. Then the mattress dipped as he sat down on it. He drew me into his arms, one arm across my waist, the other across my chest, hand resting on my shoulder.

My breath hiccupped, catching in my chest at his surprising demonstration of affection. He was real. Solid. I could feel his firm muscles and smell the almost undetectable scent of his cologne. His body was hot against mine. He rested his chin on the top of my head. We didn't speak for what felt like forever. Then, finally, he sighed, grip tightening a little.

"Sir?" I asked, hating myself for breaking the moment.

"Yes, Cissnei?" His voice was cool, but he didn't let me go.

My tongue darted between my lips in a quick, hesitant motion. "I re-killed Zack," I said, voice almost a whimper. I tensed, waiting for his reaction.

He rubbed the front of my shoulder with one hand, leaving the other across my lap, fingers tapping against my hip. I could practically hear him thinking. Then he asked the right question, like always. "How?"

"A phoenix down."

He waited. Patient, probing gently until I told him the whole sorry affair, complete with the Aeris encounter and the rumors of his death, finishing with my violent escape from Genesis and pathetic betrayal of Kunsel.

"So we have work to do," he mused when I was finished. "I knew that Genesis had the Black Materia already. As Aeris said, if one is paying attention, one can see his attempts to summon meteor. What I didn't realize is that he knew about the Holy materia as well." His thumb started running circles over my shoulder. "His search for holy is good. It gives us some time while he searches."

"Time? How does that give us time? We're probably already too late to –"

Tseng chuckled, silencing me. "Cissnei. I am the Director of the Turks. Ask me how I'm still alive after four military grade missiles obliterated my office while I was sitting at my desk in my office doing paperwork."

"Sir?" I twisted to look up at him and he let me, loosening his hold just a little.

His dark eyes glinted with cool amusement. "Immediately after I recovered from Sephiroth's attack at the Temple of the Ancients, I went to the City of the Ancients. I went to the pool Cloud laid Aeris's body in. And I recovered her holy materia."

"So . . . you already have it, sir?"

"Oh yes," he said with a short laugh. "So Genesis is searching in vain and we have some time to plan." He smirked for a second before schooling his features back into a more professional, detached expression. "The materia has been useless since I picked it up. I can't work its magic at all. Not on purpose anyway. It activated itself just before the missiles hit." He tilted his head to the side. "You've never seen such pretty white light, Cissnei." He fell silent for a second, the continued. "Well, I suppose keeping it was useful as something more than a memento. Something more than my little piece of Aeris Gainsborough."

"You loved her?" The question was off topic, but with him holding me I felt brave and reckless.

I didn't expect him to answer, but he did. "I didn't love her like Zack did, but I did love her in my own way," he said. His hand tightened on my shoulder, fingers digging in painfully. "I had someone else to love. Why would I need Ms. Gainsborough like that?"

I gasped at the intensity of his grip, his voice. "Sir . . ."

"Ask."

My mind spit out a question before I could think about it. Tseng was an enigma. Always had been. No one knew what made him tick, what drove him to be the perfect Turk. "Elena. Do you love her?"

Tseng shifted. "Ah. Aha," he muttered. "Elena. Do I care for her?" His grip loosened and he started rubbing his thumb against my shoulder again. "That is an interesting question." He paused. "I suppose I could say that I love her, but it isn't the same. It's a learned love, if you will. She loves me. Who am I to deny her what she wants?"

"Do you have someone else you love, then?" I asked, thinking about what Aeris told me about Tseng.

He kissed the top of my head. "That's enough of that." He didn't push me away, but his posture changed, letting me know that the time for cuddling in my boss's arms had passed. I leaned closer anyway, comfortable. "Tseng, have you ever really been in love? Not a learned lover or anything like that. True love. Like with Zack and Aeris." I really should have just dropped the subject, but I wanted to know.

His body tensed. I didn't think he would answer. He exhaled, body deflating as if the question itself defeated him. "Yes, Cissnei, yes. I have loved, but not like Zack and Aeris." He paused. "It was more like you and Zack."

"It hurts."

"Yes, it does." He kissed the top of my head again. "But that is enough. No more questions on –"

"Is she dead?" I asked. I really wanted to know who she was, but I'd never dare ask that. I suspected that I knew who she was and I didn't know how I would feel if I was right.

Tseng let me go and got out bed. He took two or three steps away and then stared at me. "She was gone for so long that I suspected she did die. Felt it really." He shrugged, turning away. "But no, she's not dead at all."

My heart quickened. Me. It was me. Tseng loved me. I swore out loud. Tseng arched an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

I scowled. "Yeah, I shouldn't be picking at this when the world's going to hell." I slipped out of bed, smoothing my dark blue suit with both hands. Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe I just needed him to be in love with me so I'd feel wanted. I clearly wasn't irresistible or else I would have caught Zack's eye, right?

Tseng smoothed his suit. "Picking at this? You're hardly picking, Cissnei. You're distracted. If the world wasn't 'going to hell' as you so eloquently put it, I would order you to Costa Del Sol for vacation."

"I haven't been there since Zack died," I said. "I don't like the sun and sand and umbrella drinks anymore. Too many bad memories." I chewed the inside of my lip. I was distracted. It wasn't a good thing.

Fortunately Tseng is the epitome of focused. He drew his PHS, glancing at the display. "I'm going to make a private call. You should check on the others." He left my bedroom. I followed him.

Rude was on the sofa in my living room. His legs stuck off the end of the white couch. His neck was cranked at an uncomfortable angle, resting on the headrest. He clutched a lap blanket with rubber duckies adorning it. The blanket wasn't mine, so the only thing I could think was that he brought it with him. He was snoring softly, sunglasses conspicuously absent.

Slumped in the corner with an unlit cigarette hanging, almost ready to fall from his lips, was reno. His skin was pasty and pale, with a sickly sheen to it. But his chest rose and fell steadily. His eyes were closed, lids twitching and eyelashes fluttering as he tried to wake up. His long fingers were wrapped around a full bottle of whiskey.

"Yo, Reno," I hollered overjoyed to see him and Rude both. "Wakey-wakey!"

His eyes struggled harder to open.

"He's been sedated," Tseng said, bemused. "Let him wake up on his own."

Rude snorted, then sad up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded to me. "Looks like we all made it," he said, voice slow and rumbly with sleep.

I sat down beside him on the couch and hugged him. "Yeah, looks like it."

Tseng watching us a moment, then shook his head. "Wait here. I'm going to set up a meeting with the President." He yanked open the door and stepped into the hallway. "Cissnei," he said before closing the door. "You did the right thing. Kunsel was wrong, and Zack wouldn't want to live like that." Then he was gone.