SHINRA HEIRESS ENGAGED!
It takes a moment for the words to truly sink in (the word Shinra appears in the papers every other fifth word). The title is bold and half the size of the front page, a photograph positioned perfectly beneath it.
"Son of a . . . !"
Charlotte Shinra, 26, and Reeve Tuesti, 35, are happy to announce their engagement. Charlotte, formerly Head of the Space Exploration Department at Shinra Inc., is currently Director of Communications within the company. Reeve, previously the Director of City Planning, has recently been promoted to Head of Urban Development.
The picture stares up at him, taunting him, mocking him. A black and white photograph of two happy people looking spectacularly and sickeningly in love—one of them radiant and blonde and absolutely fucking beautiful, and the other a bastard, a cock-sucking, boot-licking, Shinra-loving, sullen-looking bastard.
It shames Cid to even think about how he had once harbored feelings for Charlotte Shinra, feelings that weren't complete and utter loathing. Once, she had made him feel things he had never known existed, as well as a great many other things: inadequacy, for one.
Standing in the shadow of Charlotte Shinra had intimidated him at first, unable to figure out how a skinny little girl could make him feel so insecure and leave him second-guessing everything.
But he had loved her, too, loved the way she was both parts arrogant and unsure, strutting around the hangar as if she had been born there, unafraid to tell people when they were wrong, unafraid to correct men three times her age who had been working on machines since before she had even been thought of, unafraid of getting dirty and doing something herself when she didn't like the way someone else was doing it.
"You saw the article, then?"
Cid starts violently, closing the newspaper and accidentally tearing it in the process. He's always startled easily, especially after his brief, but violent, stint in Wutai, a nervous recruit fresh from the academy and itching to fly a plane, not fight on the front lines with other wide-eyed recruits.
But Shera has an uncanny way of sneaking up on him that he doesn't like, almost as if she purposefully means to invade on his most vulnerable and private moments—case in point, while he's staring moodily down at the picture of Charlie and Reeve, the stupid son of a bitch.
"What the hell do you know about anything, Shera?" he snaps, turning his head slightly as Shera lets herself into the kitchen, the clicking of her boots growing louder, nearer. "I don't give a rat's ass who she marries, s'long as she and her company stay far away from me and my goddamn rocket!"
"Sounds like you don't care one fig," she replies airily, and the idea that she might be mocking him sends a jolt through his system that lights a fire beneath his feet.
"Isn't that what I just fuckin' said?"
Shera ignores him, looking over his shoulder at the front page. "I remember him," she muses, making for the tea, like she owns the fucking place, always moseying around in her fucking plaid, flannel nightshirt, making her look like some sixty-year-old woman. "He came with Miss Shinra once or twice to camp, I think. His hair was shorter then, and he didn't have a beard."
"Who the fuck cares, Shera?" Cid pushes himself to his feet, his chair toppling over and crashing to the floor behind him. "Who the fuck cares what he looked like the one goddamned time he visited camp? Piece of shit fuck! Just make your fucking tea and stop pesterin' me all the goddamn time!"
Cid retreats to his bedroom, taking care to make lots of noise on his way, stomping his boots on the innocent wooden floors of his home, slamming the door of his bedroom so hard that it rattles and nearly falls off the rusty hinges he's been meaning to replace.
The announcement of their engagement has left a bitter taste in his mouth. The suddenness of it all . . . not that he's been keeping tabs on her, but a very public engagement to someone under her father's payroll seems suspect, odd, unlike her . . . and what was that about a recent promotion?
Maybe he just doesn't want to believe it.
He sits down hard on his lumpy mattress, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and opening his contacts, scrolling through the few names he has until one stands out to him: CHARLIE.
Cid hesitates, his thumb hovering uncertainly over the button that would instantly connect him to her again for the first time in four years.
Fuck, has it been that long?
Of course he's heard her voice since then, over the television and radio. He's listened to more Shinra speeches in the past four years than he ever has in his life, something that disgusts him.
Despite her not holding her position as Head of the Space Exploration Department anymore, Charlie still attends many public events that are broadcasted to nearly every home on the planet, her face always on the cover of some newspaper or magazine. It's very easy to see why she seems to be the face of the company—she's far more likeable than her pissant brother or her criminal father. She draws crowds and positive attention from all corners of Midgar, and from cities all over the world.
What would he even say if she answered?
Hey, Lottie, congratulations on your engagement to the world's biggest piece of shit! Hope you're happy for a few years with that dick until your marriage falls apart and you're left with nothing as a reminder of what people who associate with Shinra Inc. deserve!
Cid turns his phone off before he does something stupid. It's not like she would answer his call anyway. It's been four years now, and if she hasn't reached out once in those four years, it's unlikely she's still interested in rekindling even the slightest connection with him again.
Four long years.
She's probably forgotten his name by now. Maybe it's for the best.
"The boy asked me first, did you know, for her hand in marriage! Like she was some princess." President Shinra lights his fat cigar, blowing the smoke into Charlie's face as if by accident. "Damn thing won't light."
Rufus's eyes are fixed on his father with a terrifying intensity, his fingers hiding his tightly pursed lips, his elbows resting on the fine linen tablecloth. This week's girlfriend sits at his right side, casting jealous looks across the table as Charlie, not half so pretty as the last girlfriend Rufus had, with orange hair and freckles. This one talks out of turn, as well.
Rufus hadn't even told anyone her name, but Charlie is sure it's because he doesn't know it himself, though the girl had seemed to make it her sole goal to flatter Charlie before they had been seated, likely in the hopes of becoming friendly with Rufus's family.
The President continues the slow process of lighting his cigar, engulfing Charlie's head with the thick gray smoke. Once it finally catches, he lowers it, sighing heavily as if the effort has left him out of breath.
"Father, put that foul thing out," Rufus says, moving his hand away from his mouth. It's a command, and a rather bold one to be spoken to the President of Shinra Inc., not to mention his own father. "Must you smoke it now, at dinner? We're all trying to eat, and you're ruining all the food."
President Shinra blinks in surprise, and Charlie half-expects him to stand up and beat Rufus bloody. "What did you say to me, boy?"
Rufus doesn't falter, signaling distractedly for a waiter. One arrives at his shoulder almost instantly, bending down so Rufus can speak into his ear. "Take my sister's plate back and throw it away. My father has tainted it with his horrible, filthy habit. Bring her a new meal, better than the last one."
"Right away, Mr. Vice President."
"Rufus . . ." his little girlfriend whines, touching his arm. Rufus jerks his arm away from her, scowling. "What about my food?"
"There's nothing wrong with your food," he hisses. "Eat it."
The girl pushes her food around miserably with her fork.
President Shinra's gaze lingers ruefully upon his son's face. "What was I saying?" He puffs his cigar again, ashing it carefully. "Ah, that's right—I always worried about you finding a suitable husband, Char. I don't like the people you associate with. That pilot, four years ago . . . I can't recall the name now . . . perhaps I should be counted fortunate not to have that inbred invalid as my future son-in-law."
The table roars with laughter, none of them louder than the President himself.
"Cid," Charlie says softly, causing the large party to go immediately quiet. She clears her throat and lowers her napkin to her lap. "His name is Cid, Father. His last name is painted across your airship."
No one answers, all averting their eyes awkwardly. Charlie drinks deep from her glass of wine.
The idea had sounded grand, in truth. The idea of all her 'friends' and family celebrating her recent engagement at a private dinner in Midgar's most upscale restaurant, one that sits at the edge of the upper plate, the wide windows giving guests a view of the surrounding earth and distant mountain ranges far past the dead and browned earth that surrounds the city. Rufus had bought out the entire second floor for the night, a luxurious private dining area, not wanting to share the place with anyone who might be a distraction, and Charlie is rather glad they have the floor to themselves.
A live orchestra plays on a raised platform at the back of the restaurant, against a backdrop of white, silk curtains. Long tables have been placed together in front of the stage, the balcony doors open wide to give the gift of a warm summer breeze to the celebrators while they dine on the finest imported foods in the world and the finest wines bottled before Charlie was even born.
It had begun with a red soup mixed with chopped onion and mushroom, served with a tall glass of plum wine, and Charlie had drank it very quickly when her father began to talk nonsense, criticizing her while Reeve listened on silently.
Afterwards, they had eaten sticky rice and fresh eel all the way from Wutai, and then Rufus had hand-picked tuna from a massive fish tank for their party to be served nearly raw. Charlie had enjoyed the steamed eggplant, but the thick beef stew still sits in her stomach.
She had been served pickled ginger and cucumber and turnip, steamed fish atop a bed of more rice, platters with small servings to allow them a taste of everything. Wine and liquor flow constantly, always being poured, always being served more, and Charlie isn't certain she'll be able to get through the rest of dinner. Already, her head is swimming, and the lingering smell of her father's cigar makes her stomach churn and her head pound.
Maybe dinner would be a little more enjoyable if it were her friends gathered around the table. Instead of her friends, President Shinra had invited who he saw fit, with no care as to whether or not his daughter and future son-in-low liked them.
In fact, Charlie thinks the most of the guests are completely abhorrent, especially that fat bastard Heidegger and Scarlet the harlot, who has never been glad to know Charlie. Her father had even displayed the audacity to invite Palmer, the very man who had taken over her position after the failure of her rocket launch all those years ago.
It feels like a meeting, with everyone involved at the top-most level of Shinra Inc. seated around her, everyone that Charlie would have chosen not to invite to her own gathering.
A waiter brings Charlie a fresh bowl of soup, the pork belly and boiled eggs smelling something delectable, but she isn't sure she's willing to eat more food. She thanks the waiter politely, smiling sweetly and rather drunkenly, before dismissing him with a flippant wave of her hand.
Reeve leans in close as President Shinra banters with a passing waiter about available wines. "You know," he murmurs, "I could always pretend to be sick and we could sneak out of here early. I think LOVELESS is playing their last show for the night downtown in an hour."
"A few more drinks and I won't need to pretend." Charlie smiles at him reassuringly, wanting to lean into him and watch the entire world around them disappear, leaving just the two of them. "I do love you."
"Look at the lovebirds!" Scarlet remarks, a thin and penciled eyebrow raised playfully. She holds up her wine glass to hide her mouth, but Charlie can picture the smirk on her lips without having to see it. "You haven't even shown us the ring yet, darling."
Charlie knows that Scarlet is only looking for a reason to mock her engagement (the words faux and sham have already been thrown around behind her back, according to Rufus), but a refusal to show off the ring would only hurt Charlie's cause. Smiling, she holds her left hand out to the table at large, allowing everyone to fawn over the sparkling pear-shaped diamond that nearly swallows her thin finger.
"Isn't it stunning?" Charlie asks, looking directly at Scarlet and beaming as brightly as the diamond. "The band was custom made."
"Lovely," Scarlet hums, looking away.
Palmer mops his sweaty bald forehead with a silk handkerchief, giving unfiltered praise, while Heidegger eyes the ring with a gleam in his dark eyes that Charlie doesn't like at all.
"You're putting us all to shame," Tseng notes, nodding approvingly at Reeve, who shifts uncomfortably under President Shinra's critical gaze. "Every woman in the world will be searching for a diamond ring just like Charlotte Shinra's."
Rufus looks surprisingly satisfied. "My sister deserves nothing less."
"It's so beautiful," his girlfriend coos, her eyes wide with awe. It's clear that she's never seen anything quite so spectacular, and it gives Charlie a queer sort of pleasure. "Oh, Rufus . . . it's so lovely, isn't it?"
"Didn't I just imply it was very fine?" Rufus snaps. "I told you to eat your food."
Her father's voice cuts through the din like the crack of a whip. "How much did you spend on that ring, son?"
Charlie's smile falters, and Reeve clears his throat. "If it's all the same to you, Mr. President," he begins, "that is a detail I would prefer not to speak of in front of your daughter. I would be happy to answer any questions when we're able to speak privately."
President Shinra exhales heavily, leaning back in a seat that looks far too small for him. Every chair does, except for the throne-like thing he sits upon in his office. Picking up the smoldering remains of his cigar, he puts the fat thing to his lips again and attempts to light it, this time with a deftness and skill that he lacked before when he'd found it appropriate to blow the smoke in Charlie's face at her own dinner.
He addresses the table at large again, as if this were no more than a mandatory staff meeting, full of false smiles that indicate next to none of them are delighted to be present, even being served such lavish food.
"How soon will you be married?" her father grunts, fingering the straining buttons of his waistcoat, threatening to burst.
Charlie and Reeve exchange a quick look. "We haven't set a date yet, Father," she replies, covering Reeve's hand with her own. "But within the year, for a certainty."
"Good. No longer than a year, I think. In Midgar?" her father presses, scooping some sticky rice into his mouth and chewing loudly, looking very much a glutton in the moment. "The plate will be flooded with beggars, paupers, the infirm . . . they'll crawl up from the slums in the hundreds to see you married. I'll not have it. The last thing we need is a few dirty rats infesting Headquarters. You remember what they did to the family home?" President Shinra looks very seriously up and down the table. "Small riot outside the gates. They would have broken in if I hadn't set security there."
"It wasn't a riot, Father," Rufus interrupts, rolling his eyes. "And it was because of me that Charlie wasn't harmed. You only put security outside the home because I suggested it."
"You hold your tongue, boy," President Shinra retorts coldly. "I know what I'm talking about." He looks at Charlie, still chewing noisily, speaking with his mouth full. "You won't be married within the city. Costa del Sol will be a fine place for the both of you to marry. You can use the beach house if Rufus will have you. The place is too big for just him."
Charlie watches Rufus's girlfriend's eyes light up at the thought of a very large and empt beach house, but she knows her brother, and she knows that Rufus would never bring the girl back to the beach house.
Rufus smiles wide, but it doesn't extend to his eyes, and when he speaks, it's with all the courtesy he can afford them. "My lovely sister is always welcome at the beach house," he tells her, cold eyes flicking to Reeve, "and you, Reeve. Congratulations to you and Charlie."
"Do you still go by that ridiculous nickname?" President Shinra scoffs, making Scarlet titter behind her hands. "Please, you sound most unprofessional. With a name like that, no one will take your seriously. Where is the waiter? I've been waiting ten minutes for that damn bottle of wine I asked for."
Turning to Reeve again, Charlie lays her hand atop his. "I'm going to get some fresh air."
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"I'll only be a moment," she whispers, clearing her throat and getting to her feet when her father stops complaining about finding a waiter. "Please, continue without me. I'll only be a moment."
Wandering out onto the balcony, hardly noticed by anyone save Reeve and Rufus, Charlie allows the summer air to warm her. She steps right up to the balustrade and looks out into the night, able to see Shinra Headquarters looming large over the city from this angle.
It's not as if her engagement had come as a surprise to anyone. Her father had criticized her at every turn, of course, exploding with fury upon learning of their living together, always insisting on a hurried wedding, always wondering why Reeve was prolonging things, always open about his fear that Reeve might wake up one day and decide not to marry her, and then who would marry his only daughter? his soft-hearted failure of a daughter?
"Congratulations, Charlie," comes Rufus's voice from the doorway, a voice she would recognize anywhere. "I think you truly have finally pleased Father." He steps up to the balustrade to stand at her side, their shoulders nearly touching. His gaze settles on the massive building that is Headquarters. "I'm sure Reeve is happy with his recent promotion, as well. Father is rather satisfied with how he's handling his new department."
Charlie crosses her arms over her chest. She had worn such a beautiful dress tonight, a black silk, sleeveless gown with a plunging neckline to rival Scarlet's. Reeve had bought it for her weeks ago, but she had never been able to find an occasion for it. The diamonds she wears sit heavy around her neck, her favorite piece of jewelry.
"Where did you find that stupid girl?" she asks her brother sharply.
Rufus's lip curls and he sneers at her. "You don't like her, sister?" He nudges her gently with an elbow, dressed to the nines in a new fitted suit, all white, just like their father. "You and Reeve are going to put ridiculous fantasies in her head of marriage, you know."
She smiles at her brother. "You should find a nice girl, Rufus, and settle down."
Rufus scoffs loudly, looking at her with a rather incredulous expression. "Is that what you think?" He looks back towards Shinra Headquarters, clasping his hands together over the railing. The sounds of the city drift up to them from below, cars and generators and the rattling of the trains beneath the plate.
"Is Father going to let you come home?" she asks quietly, and Rufus's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "It's been years now. I miss having you in Midgar."
"Why would anyone ever want to live here when they could live in Costa del Sol?" he asks, but there's something bitter about his tone.
"It's been years, and you've never even told me why Father sent you there in the first place," she tells him, hoping that, this year, he might tell her something else beyond it being a 'business trip'. "You're Vice President now, officially. Surely he needs his Vice President at his side, not half a world away."
He considers Charlie for a moment, giving her a sideways glance and then turning his body in earnest to face her. "It doesn't matter what that fat fool wants," he says in a low voice, pointing towards the Shinra building in the distance. "One day soon, that company will be mine, and you'll be my Vice President." Rufus places his hands on either side of Charlie's face, so close to her that their identical noses nearly touch. "That stupid broad in there, she won't matter, and neither will Reeve, or any of those people. It'll be you and me, sister, leading Shinra Inc. together, like it was always meant to be."
Charlie nods slightly, her lips twitching.
"You don't want to be Director of Communications anymore, do you? Would you like to be Head of the Space Exploration Department again, Charlie?"
"I'd like that very much."
"My first decision as President will be to fire that stuttering idiot Palmer and replace him with you. What does he know of rockets and mathematics and engineering? What does he know about anything?" Rufus continues, smoothing down Charlie's light blonde hair and brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Would you like that? Would you like to be my Vice President, sister?"
"Yes," she answers, lowering her head to allow Rufus to press a soft kiss to her hairline before lowering his hands to his sides.
"You and me, Charlie," he promises, taking a step backwards to return to the interior of the restaurant. "And for the record, I think Reeve is a bit old for you, personally. And while he may not know it, I know that, even after what happened, you would still run back to your vile little pilot if you had the chance."
Charlie grits her teeth, watching a smile grow on her brother's face. "I want that girl gone," she hisses at him, which only makes him smile wider. "You shouldn't have brought her here tonight. This dinner is for me, not for you to parade around with some whore from the slums in an attempt to anger Father."
"This one's not from the slums," Rufus replies, looking pleased with himself. "This one was fucking Reno until she got bored of him. Isn't it wonderful? Father hasn't spoken one word to her the entire night."
"Where is Reno? I thought he might be here."
"Father? Entertain some low-level Turks? Not likely." Still walking slowly backwards, he opens his arms and performs a mocking bow, adding, "You look lovely, by the way. Are those the diamonds I bought for you?"
Charlie's hand jumps to her necklace. "Yes."
She follows him back to their table, where Scarlet says something about their prolonged absence, which makes their father's face grow flushed with rage. Reeve smiles a welcome smile at her, a plate of dessert in front of her seat, a thin slice of chocolate cake with fresh raspberries tucked into the base of it.
". . . once she turned twenty-two, I thought for certain no one would want to marry her, especially after that disaster of a rocket launch . . ." her father is saying baldly, chewing on the end of his cigar again, puffing rings of smoke into the air. "It's lucky she took so much after myself instead of her mother . . . look at her! She's got the Shinra look about her. I had hoped she might have a few more suitors, but twenty-six isn't so old. Still healthy enough to have a few sons."
Charlie blushes on Reeve's account, but Reeve doesn't seem half as bothered by this comment. He's always handled President Shinra's backhanded compliments with grace, something she's always admired about him.
"Are you?" Rufus's girlfriend asks her eagerly, almost innocently. The entire table falls silent at the sound of her voice. "Going to have children, I mean?"
Charlie meets Rufus's eyes across the table, but there's a smug look to him, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed, waiting patiently for his sister's answer.
"Yes, of course," Charlie answers automatically. "A son, at least, to inherit the company after Rufus."
"Wouldn't Rufus's son inherit the company?" the girl continues, her eyebrows knitting together.
President Shinra guffaws, wheezing. "Rufus! With a son!" He coughs, choking on his cigar. "The boy would remain celibate forever if he knew it would spite me!"
Rufus's face darkens as soft laughter echoes around him, an angry flush creeping up his pale face, the nostrils of his pointed nose flaring.
"Yours would certainly be handsome children, Mr. Vice President," Scarlet purrs from the other end of the table. "And certainly capable."
"Brains and brawn!" Heidegger hoots, slapping the tabletop with a meaty fist. "Any of Reeve's get would be brainy, no doubt. Consider yourself lucky, then, that a son by the two of you would be one of those things."
"My sister was a fully-trained and capable aeronautical engineer by the age of nineteen, Heidegger, and helped design that airship you're so fond of," Rufus shoots back coldly. "What have you ever done in your sorry life that makes you believe she's anything less than a genius?"
This shuts Heidegger up, earns Charlie a scowl from Scarlet, and disgruntles her father. "Enough, Rufus, enough . . . he knows what he said . . ." he mumbles, waving a distracted hand around to put a stop to whatever is beginning. "I'm glad you're marrying within the company, at least, Char. Took you long enough to commit, boy."
It continues on in this vein for some time, until President Shinra decides it's time for everyone to go home, and everyone rises as one as if being dismissed from a meeting. Charlie and Reeve linger behind, watching Rufus urge his date along roughly, shushing her with scowls whenever she tries to protest. He pushes her right into the back of a car, slamming the door shut behind her, and Charlie sighs, clutching at Reeve's hand.
Ever the gentleman, Reeve opens the car door for her when their driver brings it around to the front of the restaurant, long after everyone else has gone. The dark partition keeps the driver from hearing their conversation.
"Are you all right?" Reeve asks her, touching her knee gently. "That stunt your brother pulled only made things worse."
"It was fine," she replies, looking up and accepting a kiss from him on the mouth. "I'm just ready to be home and out of this dress."
They don't speak for the rest of the drive, and Charlie lets them into her apartment well after midnight, her feet aching. She kicks her shoes off the moment she closes the door behind her, flipping the lights on. Through the wide windows that overlook the city, it could still be day outside with all the lights still on and the glow that comes from the surrounding Mako reactors and Headquarters.
"Coming to bed?" Reeve touches her waist, brushing away her hair and kissing the crook of her neck, sending chills down her spine.
"In a minute," Charlie answers, letting him attend to his ministrations until he pulls away, tugging gently at her hand to urge her back to the bedroom. "I'm just going to finish up some work in my office."
"Don't be long."
She waits until she hears the bedroom door before moving through the double doors to her office, taking care to lock herself in. Her mahogany desk is covered with papers, handwritten articles that need to be edited before being published in any Shinra Inc. owned paper. Rufus has taken recently to calling Charlie the 'Head of Propaganda', which has lessened her desire to be a part of the communications branch of Shinra Inc.
Her office is her favorite room in her entire apartment.
It's bigger than her bedroom, with shelving built into the walls on either side of a fireplace, currently adorned with Materia brought back for her from Tseng, framed photographs of her and Rufus, of her and Reeve, of her standing next to an airship with the name HIGHWIND across the side. There are expensive tea cups, shimmering minerals and gems, artifacts dug up and bought at auction.
Hanging on the wall to her left is a sword from Wutai that had been gifted to her by Rufus on her eighteenth birthday, its beautifully hand-painted, ornamental scabbard hanging parallel below it.
Against another wall is a large drawing desk, big enough for both she and Reeve to huddle over, discussing plans for a new rocket ship that will never be launched, or for a new plane for the Shinra military that hardly exists anymore.
Charlie sits at desk by the fireplace, opening the topmost drawer and pulling out a sealed envelope, an envelope she hasn't opened in three years, since the first anniversary of her failed rocket launch. She opens it gingerly now, pulling out the photograph within and feeling her entire being filling with sadness and longing and emptiness.
Despite it only being four years ago, Charlie thinks she looks much younger in the picture. Cid's arm is thrown over her shoulders as if he hasn't a care in the world, a lit cigarette between his fingers and a thermos filled with coffee in her own hands, their smiles genuine and excited and naive, having been prepared to start their first day of work at their newly established base camp.
She flips the photograph over, reading the faded writing on the back.
Lottie,
to the moon and back
Charlie would never admit it to anyone—she even hates admitting it to herself—but she thinks of Cid often.
With her phone sitting beside her on the desk top, she looks at it for a long time. After hesitating for a few seconds, she picks it up and opens it to her contacts, scrolling through them at lightning speed until the name Cid is staring her back in the face.
What would she even say?
Hey, I'm not sure if you heard that I'm engaged to Reeve, but I am, and my father is really pleased that I'm not marrying you. I wish it was you, but you probably still think I'm some kind of murderer. Well, if you ever think about me, come save me from my marriage now before I'm being bred like a chocobo to give my own brother a faux son to inherit the company that should be rightfully mine.
She closes her phone, sighing. He probably wouldn't even answer the phone for her. After the way they had parted last, after the way she had commanded him to kill Shera, after the way she had dismissed him . . .
He probably doesn't want anything to do with her. It's been four years and he hasn't once tried to call her, nor has he reached out to inquire about his airship.
Charlie turns her desk lamp off and gets to her feet, stuffing the picture back into her drawer, her eyes falling upon a picture on her desk of her and Reeve just two years ago, smiling at each other, so happy with each other.
Calling Cid now, all this time later, would only bring up bad memories. Maybe it's for the best.