PROLOGUE

Part Two: The Rehearsal

"Miss Shinra, this is incredible! I've never seen airplanes fly like that before! So—so coordinated! So in sync!"

Charlie and Reeve exchange an inconspicuous look before returning their gazes to the sky. Cid and his men do put on a wonderful show, one that everyone seems to be thoroughly enjoying, save for Rufus, who continues to watch with disinterest, clearly only watching at all to appease Charlie. Cid's Tiny Bronco leads the others across the barren blue sky, barrel-rolling and zig-zagging and leaving cloudly-looking tails behind them.

"That Captain Cid sure is something . . ." Freyra says distractedly and to no one in particular, staring up at the airplanes as they fly overhead again, little engines buzzing like over-sized bees. "I heard he's the best pilot Shinra's ever seen."

"An overstatement," Rufus answers quickly, and Charlie doesn't bother to correct him, knowing arguing is futile.

"I don't like her," Charlie whispers to Reeve, folding her arms over her chest. "Where did you find her, Rufus? The slums? She speaks like she's never been properly beat."

"Are you jealous of her, sister?" Rufus moves closer to Charlie to join in on their conversation, all three of them looking at Freyra's back, her long ponytail waving as her head turns from side to side, watching the airshow with complete awe.

"What would I be jealous about?" Charlie asks quietly, and she sees a small smile tug at the corners of Reeve's lips.

"Worried that your Captain might be making eyes at someone other than yourself?" Rufus asks, an eyebrow cocked, a look of disdain upon his face.

Charlie scoffs. "Cid has eyes only for our rocket. She's more beautiful than anything else here."

The airplanes, completely synchronized, fly up into the clouds before diving down, swirling together in the sky. Rufus sighs heavily, bored, walking away from Charlie and Reeve. She immediately turns back to her friend to carry on their conversation.

"Can I get rid of her?"

"Not without reasonable cause, if you want to avoid any legal issues," Reeve answers, glancing down at her. "But I'll see what can be done. In any case, it doesn't seem as if your brother is very attached to her."

Charlie hums, smiling. It's the truth—whenever Rufus does offer Freyra a chance glance, it's only to look at her with pure contempt.

"She almost looks like you," Reeve notes, and when Charlie's eyes fix upon his face, it's to find a teasing smile there. "Perhaps if you had been raised poor, hungry, and in the slums . . ."

"I don't know whether to chastise you for that remark or not." They smile shyly at each other, and Reeve's cheekbones take on a pinkish hue. "If I'm ever President, you'll be my Vice President."

"Thank you, Miss Shinra."

"Stop calling me that, would you?" Charlie asks him, exasperated. "I think we're past that point by now, don't you think? You can call me Charlie, or Char, if you really want to, but I prefer Charlie."

"With all due respect, Miss Shinra, I'd prefer to keep things . . . professional in the vicinity of your brother."

"But you'll call me Charlie when he's not around, won't you?"

Reeve clears his throat, hands held in front of him, and nods. "Yes."

"Fair enough."

Charlie watches as the Tiny Bronco breaks off from the group as they continue on with their rehearsal. Cid lands perfectly on a fresh strip of flattened grass just beyond the camp, lifting his goggles up to rest upon his forehead, leaving pink imprints around his eyes. His yellow hair sticks up in all directions, wind-swept and disheveled, and his cheeks are a bright pink as he walks over to them, that arrogant strut of his that Charlie can't help but find endearing, walking as if he knows he's the most important person around for hundreds of miles.

Rufus must hate it.

Cid struts up to Charlie's side, removing his gloves and sighing happily, eyes flicking from Charlie to Reeve to Rufus and, finally, landing on Freyra, his eyes sweeping up and down her body before looking away. "Hi," he says lamely. "We're glad you could make it, Mr. Vice President."

"Captain," Rufus replies shortly, with a knowing look at Charlie.

"What'dya think, Lottie?" Cid asks breathlessly, looking up at the sky again to catch the airplanes flying above them. Rufus's face hardens instantly upon hearing this affectionate nickname for her.

Charlie raises her eyebrows at Cid, trying to silently communicate with him. He has the grace to blush. "It was—"

"—amazing!" Freyra finishes, earning her, not one, but three cold glares, one each from Charlie, Reeve, and Rufus. Oblivious, she prattles on. "Wow! I've never seen anything like it before!"

"Damn right," Cid replies, casting an awkward look in Charlie's direction and giving her a slightly crooked smile. "We've been workin' long and hard on that show. Impressed, Charlie?"

Charlie can feel Rufus's eyes boring a hole into her temple. Charlie is better than Lottie, at least. Straightening up the best she can, she nods politely. "Very," she answers. "Rufus, what do you think?"

"I'd like to know why you've been wasting time coordinating an airshow and fireworks when there's real work to be done," Rufus says in a sharp tone, clearly catching Cid off guard, but not causing him to falter. "Aren't there better things to be done during the afternoon before launch? You must not think my sweet sister's time is very important if you've been doing nothing but playing around."

"Come on, Rufus, they're just having a little fun," Charlie cuts in, reaching out to place a steady hand on her brother's forearm. He doesn't flinch, but his eyes stay fixed upon Cid as if still expecting an answer. "You have to admit it's quite a sight, isn't it? There's no entertainment quite like it in Midgar."

Rufus hums, looking away, refusing to glance upwards at the sky again.

"Forgive my brother," Charlie tells Cid, frowning apologetically. "Flying has never been an interest or passion for him as it has been for me. I fear an airshow is rather lost on him."

"Look, Mr. Vice President," Cid begins, his voice coming out much deeper than Charlie knows it really is. "I understand your concern, but I can assure you that there is nothing more important to us than getting Shinra No. 26 off the ground tomorrow. I have every expectation of being the first man in space when we launch tomorrow."

"I'll be cheering you on, Cid," Freyra smiles sweetly, drawing Charlie's eyes towards her. "I know it'll be great."

"Perhaps you could take some lessons from your superiors about how to behave while in the presence of myself and my brother," Charlie hisses, causing Freyra to go bright red. "It's proper etiquette to keep your mouth closed while the adults are talking, Turk."

Freyra looks away dejectedly, looking far younger, half her age, a beaten pup with her tail between her legs. Her hair falls on either side of her face, doing a mediocre job at hiding her furious flush. Rufus watches the scene unfold carefully, crossing his arms over his chest and forcing himself to smile at Cid, although his smile is far more malicious.

"Forgive my sister," Rufus says, and Charlie blushes preemptively, knowing he'll only further embarrass her. "She becomes rather intimidated and insecure while in the presence of other women she could consider to be competition. She means nothing by it."

Cid looks as though he's walked himself right into a trap and is afraid to continue, but he does, looking towards Freyra, who refuses to meet anyone's eyes. "Right . . . er, I don't really mind if she talks or not . . . she's just excited, Lottie." Perhaps he avoid looking into Charlie's face to avoid the dangerous look she gives him. Still looking at Freyra, he asks, "What's your name again?"

"Freyra," she says quietly, still looking sheepish. "I'm the Vice President's escort today."

"I wouldn't be here if my own sister weren't the head of the department," Rufus says, looking around with boredom written all over his face and in his eyes. "Space and rocket ships . . . space travel isn't worth the time or money, and if I were President, I'd shut the entire thing down and give my brilliant sister something far more important to handle. Unlike him, I wouldn't underestimate my sister's capabilities."

"Well, your father sure thinks it's important," Cid replies, unsure of himself. "If he didn't, he wouldn't have put so much money towards the project, and he wouldn't have had his own daughter keep tabs on the program. And she's doin' a damn good job at it, if you don't mind my sayin' so."

"In case you've forgotten, Captain, I'm not my father," Rufus retorts coldly.

Charlie's ears perk up as she hears something grumble from a distance, a buzzing noise that she recognizes with ease. "Do you guys hear something?" she asks, breaking up whatever conversation has just started between Cid and Freyra. Reeve, taller than anyone, looks around camp quickly. "It sounds like a plane. Cid, there isn't another show, is there?"

Cid scratches at his head. "No, didn't plan on it . . ."

Freyra is the first to see it, pointing to a place just over Charlie's shoulder, who whirls around in a flash of golden hair. "Someone's taking off in the Tiny Bronco!"

"Bastards!" Cid grumbles, his hand moving to his shoulder, grasping empty air when he realizes he's left his long spear by his tent. "Shit! Who is it? Charlie, what's goin' on?"

"I don't know who he is," Charlie tells Rufus, watching a bulky-looking man attempt to work the controls in the Tiny Bronco. He spares a few nervous glances at Charlie and Rufus and their companions before the airplane begins to take off again. "I know everyone here, and I don't know who that is."

"Shoot him," Rufus instructs Freyra flatly.

"Hold on!" Cid shouts, looking bewildered. "You'll bring the whole plane down!"

"Keep an eye on my sister," Rufus commands Reeve next, who moves too quickly for his own good.

"I got it!" Cid continues, but Charlie calls his name before he can get very far. He turns at the sound of her voice, looking desperate and very, very angry.

"You can't go!" Charlie yells, wriggling against Reeve's arms as he pulls her to his chest, trying to get her clear of the area in case of an enemy. She breaks his arms apart and takes a few steps forward as the Tiny Bronco stops and stars again, its gears grinding. "Without you, our rocket can't be launched!" She looks around at her party again. "Freyra, you go."

Charlie expects Freyra to protest, or at least look slightly hesitant or apprehensive, but instead, the girl is proud to be given such a command. "All right, I'm on it! I'll be back, Mr. Vice President, sir!"

They all watch her go before Reeve tries again to remove Charlie from the premises. His gun is already in his left hand, cocked and ready to fire at the first sign of a nearby enemy. His right arm is wrapped around her shoulders, giving him good control over her body if she needs to move.

Cid grabs the headset resting around his tanned and sweaty neck, lifting them to his ears and looking into the sun as Freyra leaps into the Tiny Bronco's small cockpit just as the man attempts to lift off the ground, the wheels rolling along on the grass and the propellers shifting tents and blowing everyone's hair around.

"Does she even know how to fly a plane?" Charlie hisses at Rufus. "I could have gotten the plane back and landed it safely without question!"

"It doesn't matter," Rufus snaps. "She's dispensable. You're not."

The four of them watch the plane for a moment as it takes off from the ground. Cid swears loudly all the while, holding tight to the headset over his ears, waiting for someone to speak to him, or for someone to speak to.

It takes off right over their heads, the engine growling as it grows higher and higher, steady at first, and then when it passes through a low cloud, something begins to happen. The Tiny Bronco wobbles dangerously, losing altitude at a pace that suggests Cid is about to lose his prized possession, but the nose suddenly looks towards the clouds, leveling itself out, but listing to the right, one of the wings pointing down.

"Freyra!" Cid shouts into the microphone that grazes his lips. "Freyra! Can you hear me? Did you get the plane back?" He waits a moment, and then a smile graces his face, a triumphant one, and he punches the air with his fist, nearly leaping up off the ground. "Listen, honey, you've gotta land it now, and I don't wanna see a single scratch on her when she touches down . . . I'm gonna walk you through it, so listen close . . . listen, I know you can do it . . . I need you to listen to me carefully and don't stop payin' attention even for a second!"

Charlie listens to Cid guide Freyra through the process of flying the Tiny Bronco to a satisfactory landing zone. Reeve releases Charlie, who moves to stand beside Rufus. Rufus's eyes are back on the sky, watching the plane wobble and drop and rise again, but Charlie is watching Cid, watching him smile as he teases Freyra about flying, watching him chuckle nervously when the fireworks go off and nearly hit his baby, his pride and joy. The fireworks might even have been enjoyable had Charlie not known it was Freyra in Cid's plane, Freyra distracting her pilot, her Captain.

Finally, after clearing the fireworks and circling a field, Cid instructs Freyra clearly and slowly how to land the plane, reminding her several times not to dent his plane or scratch it or land too hard or waste too much fuel or mess up the cockpit—all in good fun, of course.

He continues to tease her all the while, and Charlie continues to watch, uninterested in the Tiny Bronco's safe return, only concerned about how Cid hasn't bothered to look once in her direction since the plane went into the air.

"You are jealous, aren't you?" Rufus asks smugly, giving his sister a sideways look. "Gods, I think I'm going to vomit."

Charlie doesn't blush until she notices that Reeve is listening, as well, waiting a little too eagerly for her answer. "I'm not jealous. I just think it's irresponsible of him to succumb to distractions when there's so much riding on his performance tomorrow."

"Lying has always come naturally to you, Charlie," Rufus answers, sighing as the plane touches down beyond the chocobo pen. "But I've always been able to tell when you're lying." Looking over Charlie's head to glance at Reeve, Rufus adds, "If that pilot touches her, I want his hands removed."

Reeve hesitates for the briefest second. "Yes, sir."

Freyra wanders back over to them with the air of someone who's recently just been ravished, but her face is tinted slightly green. She's grinning, revealing a mouthful of bright white teeth, her front two slightly overlarge. "Did you see that!" she tells them all, still oblivious to everything except Cid's absolute delight that the Tiny Bronco is safe and sound again.

"Did you see who stole the plane in the first place?" Charlie asks sharply before she can answer.

"Well, no, but . . . he, well . . . he ran off when we landed . . ."

"And you just let him?" Rufus continues, his eyes narrowed. "What kind of Turk are you?"

Freyra mouths wordlessly for a moment, watching as Rufus makes a show of his disappointment. "They're probably long gone by now."

Though Cid looks skeptical, he shrugs his shoulders. "You're not bad in a plane, you know," he tells Freyra, whose chest suddenly swells right back up again.

"It helps when you have Shinra's best pilot talking you through it," Freyra answers, kicking distractedly at the grass, her eyes on her feet.

Cid's cheeks flush pink with pride, and he rubs the back of his neck, trying his best to appear modest. "I'd like to thank you. Y'know . . . I could give you a tour of the rocket, if you're interested."

"Really?" Freyra asks excitedly. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, sure," Cid says, giving a humble and falsely casual shrug. "It's the least I can do."

"That sounds great, but . . ." Freyra looks over her shoulder at Rufus before glancing back at Cid. "I shouldn't. I'm supposed to be with the Vice President today."

Charlie clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention within the drop of a hat, angry that she's been completely forgotten in the midst of everything, angry that nothing is being done about the man who tried to steal the Tiny Bronco.

"Reeve and I have business to attend to," she announces, pleased to see something flicker in Cid's eyes, his excitement lessening. "Rufus will go with you. He's yet to see the rocket."

It's clear that this is the last thing Rufus wants to do, and he thankfully bites back the cruel jab he has forming on his tongue. His typically handsome face is stony again, a look that Charlie is very familiar with. Blue eyes settle on Reeve as Rufus takes a few steps closer to Charlie.

"Don't let my sister out of your sight."

"Yes, sir," Reeve answers coolly.

Rufus gives Charlie another chaste kiss on her cheek. Cid doesn't look away from her face until her back is to him.

"Let's go, Reeve," Charlie murmurs, and he doesn't answer, but falls into step with her as she walks away from her brother and companions, back towards her tent. She releases the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when they're out of earshot of everyone else. "Does it bother you that no one seemed to care much about who was trying to steal the Tiny Bronco?"

"I'm sure it was an isolated incident. Someone who likely grew far too bold and bored." Reeve smiles pleasantly down at her. "I'll look into it. Have no fear."

"You know how much is riding on this launch," she sighs. "If the smallest thing doesn't go right, it'll be the end of me and Shinra until my father's in his grave, where he'll rise again to scold me." Charlie strokes her chin, thinking hard. "I don't want that girl here tomorrow. We can't afford any distractions."

"She'll be escorting your father tomorrow," Reeve explains gently. "It's not something I'd prefer to appeal to him, but if you insist . . ."

"No. Don't get yourself into trouble with my father on my account." Still trying to calm the burning rage inside of her, Charlie continues, knowing Reeve will listen. "You realize I could have done what that Turk did without Cid whispering into my ear? I could have handled it myself. I can fly—you know I can fly. You've seen me. It should have been me."

"Your brother was right," Reeve counters. "It doesn't matter if you could do it or not. Your life means much more than Freyra's does. The launch does not depend on her life, but yours."

"The launch could go on without me, so long as Cid was still here to operate the rocket." Charlie sighs again, this time wistfully. "I wish I could go. This is all I've ever wanted, but . . . I thought, if this ever happened, it would be me in the rocket, sent up into space."

"We need you on the ground," he insists, approaching Charlie's tent and holding the entrance flap open for her as she ducks inside. "And I highly doubt that Captain Highwind would be happy if Charlotte Shinra were removed as Head of the Space Exploration Department."

Charlie pauses in the middle of her tent, surprised at the amount of venom that drips from Reeve's tone at the mention of Cid. As far as she knows, Reeve has nothing against Cid and Cid has nothing against Reeve.

She looks discreetly at him as he fidgets about the tent, making sure all of her paperwork is stacked neatly on her makeshift desk, perfectly positioning her ball-point pens, checking that her few lanterns inside aren't being wasted during the daylight hours.

Charlie finds the tent rather stuffy and humid, despite the chill outdoors. "Are you all right?"

Reeve's mouth becomes a hard, thin line, almost non-existent. "Yes, forgive me. Pre-launch nerves, I think."

She continues to watch him until he walks right up to her as if she's some whore from the slums of Midgar, tucking her hair behind her ears and adjusting her jacket and necklace and scarf. Charlie smiles toothily. "I know. My heart is going a million miles a minute. Feel it."

She takes his wrist before he has time to raise a cry or protest, placing his palm to her chest, just above her breast. Reeve swallows hard, pulling his hand away after a few seconds to awkwardly rub at his wrist.

"Do you think Freyra is pretty?" Charlie asks, hoping he'll answer truthfully.

The question seems to make Reeve uncomfortable. "Objectively, I suppose . . . I suppose she is objectively good-looking, yes."

"Do you think I'm pretty, Reeve?"

This time, he answers without hesitation. He doesn't even think about it. "Of course I do, Miss Shinra." Reeve quickly catches his mistake and rectifies it. "Charlie."

Charlie takes a moment to look him over while he's so close. Objectively, he's not bad-looking. He's clean, with dark hair that shines, and a young face inscribed with a serious expression that makes him look rather unapproachable, something that almost draws her to him. His cleanly shaven jaw is strong and square, and he looks nice in uniform, as well. Though Reeve is not a Turk, he dresses much like one, in a dark suit that seems to stink of money.

Even now, Charlie still remembers the day her father had hired Reeve onto the company. It had been Rufus who was introduced to Reeve during a meeting, of course, so Charlie had only met him while running through the halls of Shinra Headquarters, flying a small, motorized model airplane that she had built.

Charlie had been sixteen at the time, and Reeve no older than twenty-five and dead handsome, even after her airplane had struck him right in the chest and fallen to the floor with both flimsy wings snapped clean in half.

But what struck her as most odd was that she didn't know him. Charlie knew (and knows now) all of her father's employees, the ones she loved and the ones she hated, even the guards stationed throughout the building and their rotation schedule. She had to know, otherwise she wouldn't have known who knew the day's gossip or who might give her a trinket to put on a shelf in her bedroom.

Regardless, she remembers taking a few steps back from Reeve, the controller for her broken airplane still clutched in her hands. Rufus had always told her that people would want to hurt their father, to kill him, and possibly them, and seeing a stranger in her father's building—on a keycard floor, no less—came as quite a shock to her.

But Reeve had been kind and warm, despite the somber and sullen look to him, just as he's always been kind to her. He had picked up her airplane and looked it over critically with his eyebrows knitted together, his dark eyes widening in comprehension upon taking in the sight of her.

"You must be Miss Shinra," he said to her, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Reeve."

Charlie had taken another step back. The name was unfamiliar, and she knew all the names.

"I've just come from a meeting with your father and brother. I'll be working closely with your father for a while," he had continued, gesturing towards the nearest conference room. "Is this where you've been instead of meeting with me? This is more interesting, I confess."

"I'm not allowed in meetings," Charlie had confessed baldly. "And you've broken my airplane. I'll have it back now."

Reeve had only held it loosely in his hands, turning it over and admiring it. "Did you make this yourself?"

"Yes, and it took me a long time. Now I'll have to rebuild it."

"You're an engineer then, are you?"

Charlie had crossed her arms, sizing him up, wanting to appear older. "It's one of the things I'd like to be. You'll be a weapons manufacturer, then?"

Reeve frowned then, looking rather concerned. "No, certainly not. I'm an architect." He had given her plane back with gentility, cradling it like a baby bird. "Do you still have any sketches or anything?"

"Yes, of course I do," Charlie had answered.

"Well, perhaps you might let me have a look at them," he suggested. "And perhaps I could draw up some designs for you. It's the least I can do for breaking your airplane, though no guarantee I'll sketch them well." Reeve had smiled at her afterwards and she had been lost in him, taking those few steps to close the distance between them.

"You would do that? Do you have an office yet? Can I bring my drawings by right now? You're not busy, are you?" She had help up her plane to show him. Reeve had towered over her even then, when she had been a gawky and awkward teenager. "I've had some ideas about the way the tail is designed. Could I show you? Have you ever worked on airplanes before? Or any ship? What are you going to be designing for my father? Are you going to design us a new house?"

Reeve had laughed and Charlie had been enamored by his laughter. She had helped him move into his new office on the sixty-fifth floor, and then she had convinced one of the pilots to fly her and Reeve to her father's mansion in a helicopter, where she had promptly gathered all of her drawings and brought them back to Reeve's office.

For years now, he's allowed her to come and go whenever she pleases, sometimes the two of them working on separate projects into the small hours of the night in silence. One time she had fallen asleep in his office amid a stack of books and papers, and Reeve had tossed a blanket over her and let her sleep until morning. Charlie thought, afterwards, that he would be furious, and she avoided him successfully for three days, only relenting when Reeve tracked her down after chasing her around for hours.

He's always brought Charlie vague details from meetings she wasn't allowed in, always making her laugh, always sharing gossip with her that they heard from sneaking around Headquarters. She had brought him to see LOVELESS for theh first time and had been more concerned with watching his expressions than watching the actual play, and he always called her 'Miss Shinra', even when she would insist otherwise.

Now, six years later, it seems his new job as the head of a department has worn him down and sucked most of the life and humor from him.

Charlie takes his hands and laces their fingers together, squeezing. "Sometimes I feel like you're the only true friend I've ever had. Where would I be without you? What would I do?"

Reeve looks down at their hands. "You would probably have launched yourself into space long ago, had I not been here to hold you back."

"I'd have begged you to come with me," she confesses, laughing softly. "I would never have left without you, my friend." Charlie shakes her head, letting go of his hands. "I'm nervous. What if something goes wrong tomorrow?"

"Everything will be perfect." Reeve touches her face, smiling reassuringly and lowering his hands when she begins to squirm. "Tonight . . . LOVELESS is playing at nine. Why don't I take you downtown and we have a nice dinner and see a show, and in the morning we'll be here, right on time, to watch your rocket launch the first man into space?"

She remembers the half-hearted we'll see she gave Cid when he'd asked her to stay late. But she also remembers Cid forgetting she was around when Freyra had arrived. "I have a lot of things to finalize tonight," she says, smiling apologetically at Reeve. "You don't have to stay with me once Rufus leaves. I'll call for a ship and, if I get home in time for the show, I'll call you."

"Are you sure I—"

"Charlie!" The tent flaps open hurriedly with a snap! Cid appears, alone, in the entrance, eyes flicking from Reeve to Charlie and back again and back again and back again, as if he can't quite get a read on the situation. Regardless, he gives his head a shake. "We're missing an oxygen tank on the rocket."

Charlie frowns, her heart skipping a beat. "Well, where did it go?"

"Dunno, but a little help looking would be nice!"

As soon as Cid races from the tent, Charlie turns to Reeve and swears loudly. "Get my father on the phone by the time we return. If that stupid Turk hadn't let that man escape, I'm sure this could have been prevented!"

Reeve only nods obediently. "As you wish," he says, "Miss Shinra."