"Good evening, and welcome to—" Charlie laughs softly, placing a hand over her heart as the applause continues to swell—"Wow, thank you!"

In front of her, in one of the largest buildings upon Midgar's plate, nearly a hundred of the city's most elite and richest citizens sit at circular tables, dressed in gowns that sparkle and jewelry that glimmers in the bright lighting from the stage, and the men sit stoic in their expensive suits, all clapping, all clapping for her, except for one man.

President Shinra sits at one of the front-most tables with Reeve, smoking a cigar, his eyes fixed critically on his daughter.

Charlie looks away from her father and out into the crowd again, smiling. "It's such a pleasure to be here tonight on behalf of the Urban Development Department," she begins, smiling smiling smiling. "I want to thank you all for being here on such short notice, and I especially want to thank those who have donated items for our auction tonight, and Mayor Domino for allowing us use of this lovely building."

There's another smattering of gracious applause.

"I have been given the job tonight of introducing the Head of the Urban Development Department tonight, Reeve Tuesti, by listing off several things that make him sound very, very good at his job, in the hopes of impressing everyone here tonight," she continues, pleased to hear hushed laughter among the crowd, "and I'm certain it will, by far, be the easiest job I've ever had."

More laughter, laughter from everyone and a warm smile from Reeve, but from her father, only a hard stare.

The idea had been attractive to her from the moment Reeve had brought it up after a visit to the slums, shortly after their engagement. They had passed out food to those living amongst filth, dispatched of several monsters that were lurking about and picking people off one by one, had Reno and Rude shut down a budding crime syndicate that was preying on the elderly and sick.

The slums had been disgusting, in truth. The houses weren't houses at all, but makeshift huts built from scrap metal and garbage, most of them without running water or proper trash disposal, so the outside of nearly every home was filled with bags and cans filled with garbage. Many had no heat, shivering underneath thin and worn and ragged blankets, while others ate cooked rats for dinner and other small rodents that crawled through the sewers.

The worst part, Charlie thought, was looking up and seeing nothing but the underside of the plate, unable to see the sky, the stars, the moon, the sun. It's always dark beneath the plate, always night, the air stuffy and humid and torrid, smelling of decay and urine and rotting food. Pickpockets roamed every corner, waiting for their next victim, and Reeve had ushered her quickly past two corpses lying beside each other atop a pile of trash, their bodies still stiff with rigor mortis.

Despite their general distrust of Shinra Inc. and those affiliated, Charlie and Reeve had been welcomed by the people of the slums, and they had both listened to grievances and complaints and requests patiently and kindly, promising to do what was within their power to help them.

Returning above the plate had felt like being born again. Charlie was able to breathe again and not have to worry about who was walking the streets behind her or if the house she entered would collapse on her.

But the amount of children down in the slums had absolutely broken her heart, knowing that those children were breathing that dirty air, that those children would never know what the stars looked like on a clear night, would never know the beautiful cobble-stone streets of the upper crust, would never know what the city looked like a night, when it was all lit up and the prettiest sight in the world from the top floor of Shinra Headquarters.

So when Reeve had proposed they attempt to build some subsidized housing in the slums for families with children, Charlie had been ecstatic, and agreed to help him without needing to hear anything more of his plan.

". . . I'm so pleased to welcome to the stage," Charlie finishes, smiling wide again, "Reeve Tuesti, Head of the Urban Development Department."

The guests all clap again as Reeve rises to his feet from the table, buttoning his suit jacket and walking the short way up the three stairs and onto the stage. There's a genuine smile on his face as he gives the crowd an acknowledging nod, placing a hand on the small of Charlie's back to kiss her cheek before she returns to the table, to sit alone at her father's side.

Dinner is served to them as Reeve discusses his plan to give the slums some affordable housing, something to get them out of the garbage huts and employ those who are able to work. The presentation is well done, as they've been working together on it for weeks now, calculating figures and drawing up designs and attempting to determine the amount of profit that could potentially be made from something so . . . risky.

"I hate it when you joke around, Char," her father says stiffly after a few minutes, putting his cigar out to fold his napkin and stuff it into his lap. "Must you reduce yourself to a laughing stock? No one will ever take you seriously if you strive for laughter and smiles."

"Sorry, Father."

He doesn't speak again after that.

Charlie can't seem to take her eyes off Reeve for a minute, however, not even to eat the delicious food set in front of her. Reeve presents the information in a way that sounds most professional, captivating everyone's attention as he presents facts and figures, several technical drawings, cost and profits, potential future opportunities that may stem from subsidized housing.

Her father, happily eating the lobster on his plate, is most displeased.

Charlie knows the only reason President Shinra approved the project in the first place was because it was doomed to fail with the limited budget offered to them. She thinks it highly unlikely he would have signed off on it had he realized she would be so successful with the many fundraisers she's put on of late, but it's too late to scrap the project now, not when so much money has been donated.

And with all the negative press that Shinra has been receiving lately, Charlie is sure that her father is pleased with the positive attention the company has been receiving on behalf of the new project.

"I hope you know this is folly," President Shinra remarks after Reeve pulls up a graph of projected Mako use in the slums after the housing is built. It pulls Charlie's attention away from Reeve, most reluctantly. "The slum-dwellers don't want your help. If you build so much as the frame of a single house, they would tear it down out of spite before it was finished."

"We were down there, Father," Charlie whispers, looking down to realize she hasn't touched any of her food yet. "They have no electricity, no running water. They were begging us for help."

"If I agreed to help every person who begged me for help, I would have run this company into the ground a long time ago." He sighs, glancing up at Reeve on stage, who seems to have forgotten the world around him, focused solely on his work and presentation, which seems to be going over rather well with the audience . . . as it should, as the majority of people in the audience are people that Charlie has known since she was little, people with money and compassion for others, people far removed from her own father's views on business. "If you want to run the company, you must show a certain amount of ruthlessness and cunning."

Charlie doesn't have the courage to tell her father this probably isn't the best place to be having this conversation. "Then I suppose it's lucky that Rufus will inherit the company, and not me."

A muscle jumps in her father's cheek, anger coloring his face.

". . . thank President Shinra for his generosity . . ."

He reaches out for her wrist, his hand hidden beneath the tablecloth, gripping Charlie's wrist so tight that she's sure it will bruise. She tenses, looking her father in the eyes for a long time.

". . . and my darling bride-to-be for all of the time and energy she put into helping my ideas come to life . . ."

Reeve gestures affectionately down at Charlie, who puts a smile on, her hand still restricted by her father's strong grip. As everyone's attention is turned towards her and President Shinra, he releases her wrist and returns to his cigar, relighting it and remaining silent until Reeve is finished with his presentation and speech.

"You were wonderful," she tells him as she sits back down at the table, slightly flushed, his hairline damp with sweat. Regardless, she kisses him on the mouth, just to make sure there's no possible way her father can avoid the scene. "I must have the best view in the entire place."

"You've hardly eaten any of your food," Reeve notes, glancing up awkwardly at President Shinra, who looks away from Charlie as if trying to pretend she's not with them.

"How could I, while you were standing up there looking so handsome?" Charlie sighs dreamily, watching Reeve cut his meat with his beautiful hands, thin fingers pressed against the hilt of his knife. "Will you buy me something expensive from the auction?"

"Anything," Reeve replies with a tight-lipped smile, eating very quickly to make up for all the time he spent on stage. "So long as you can find somewhere in your office to put it." He looks away from Charlie, his loving smile fading when he meets President Shinra's eyes. "Charlotte was very glad that you were able to come, Mr. President, as am I."

"Don't joke with me, boy," President Shinra replies with gruff laughter. "We all know that it's Rufus she wants here, not me."

Reeve clears his throat, and quietly urges Charlie to finish her dinner before it gets too cold. Charlie picks up her fork, pushing around the rice on her plate. "I don't know why you wouldn't let Rufus come," she mutters bitterly. "He wanted to come tonight. He told me so himself."

"I'm certain your brother tells you a great many things," President Shinra retorts, looking ready to slap her, but he wouldn't dare, not here. "Too many things, if you ask me. Rufus is far too fond of you. If anything, your marriage will force him to keep his distance."

"Rufus is lonely at the beach house," Charlie counters, wishing her brother were here instead of her father. "All of his friends are here."

"His Turks, you mean?" President Shinra scoffs, turning to face his daughter. "Tseng's a good and loyal boy, but he's not Rufus's friend. He's a Shinra employee. We can only hope he does not make the same mistake you did, Char."

Reeve and Charlie meet eyes. That's all it takes for him to blurt out, "Did Charlotte tell you we set a date?"

"What's this now?" her father asks, sounding almost happy, his eyes wide with surprise. "Did you? When?"

"In the spring," Charlie tells him. "The first of May."

Talk of their wedding seems to keep President Shinra happy the rest of the evening, which makes Charlie happy, and it makes her even happier when her father decides to bid on an oil painting for his office, grumbling only slightly about what his money will be used for.

"Where's Reeve?"

"He and Father are meeting about the placement of a new reactor today," Charlie replies, her eyes closed to shield the sun from them, bright even through her dark sunglasses. "Besides, I don't think Reeve has ever taken a vacation in his life."

"He's very serious, isn't he?" Rufus asks, hands behind his head as the sun beats down on his fair skin.

"Not always," she admits. "He can be very funny when he chooses to be. I wouldn't have agreed to marry him if he wasn't able to make me laugh."

"I wonder why you've agreed to marry him at all," her brother replies mockingly, scoffing. For a moment, they listen to the soft crashing of the waves. "I always thought you might have married Tseng."

"Why? He hardly speaks to me," Charlie answers, surprised by this. She opens her eyes, propping herself on an elbow to look at her brother. For all his years of living here in Costa del Sol, he's failed to attain a decent tan, still very fair of skin.

"He's younger than Reeve," Rufus tells her, "and the girls all agree that he's very handsome."

Charlie frowns, lying back on her chair. "Father would never have allowed me to marry a Turk, even if he is their leader." She thinks of Reeve, his face much easier to picture than Tseng's. Now that she thinks about it, she isn't at all surprised by Rufus's passive desire to see her marry the leader of the Turks—his close ties with them are well known, and it would be far easier for him to keep tabs on his sister if she married a Turk. "I've known Reeve since he came to work for Father. He's handsome, and he has a heart—he's compassionate, unlike the other cold bastards who work at Headquarters."

"You mean he's weak," Rufus spits, his tone full of scorn.

"There's nothing wrong about caring for other people," she says, teasing him. "You care about me, and that doesn't make you weak, does it?"

"He's nothing like you and me, Charlie," he explains patiently, always patient with his sister, always gentle, if not a little distant. "Father might be pleased with your arrangement, but he would never allow Reeve to have any control of the company. He'd run it into the ground with his generosity and compassion."

"Well, it's a good thing that you're the Vice President, and not me," Charlie says bitterly. "I don't know why it's my responsibility to procure a son for you to give the company to when you're dead. Are you incapable of producing a son for yourself?"

"Don't worry, sweet sister. The company will soon be ours, and if Father wants it out of your hands so badly, he can take it back over my dead body."

"Father has years left to him."

"Only if we're unlucky, and I am spectacularly lucky."

"Will you really give me the Space Exploration Department, Rufus?" Charlie asks, eager to hear his confirmation again. The thought of perfecting the rocket that is now the main attraction for Rocket Town (aptly named, she thinks), the place where her base had once sprawled upon an open field at the base of Shinra No. 26, is still attractive to her, and still within reach so long as her father doesn't outlive either of them. "I've been drawing up plans for the last year, even though they're useless. Palmer wouldn't even know what to do with them."

"Palmer knows how to do two things: eat, and cower in fear from those more powerful, and much richer, than him."

Charlie snorts, laughing softly. "You're not wrong." After another moment, she sighs heavily. "I don't want to give speeches anymore. The people love me, and all I do is lie to them."

Rufus turns his head to look at her, strands of blond hair falling into his eyes. "Don't think of them as lies, then," he suggests, shrugging his sunburnt shoulders, lightly freckled and not quite so broad without a trimmed suit on him. "Think of it as . . . you're reassuring the public, appeasing them. You're making them happy, and you want to keep it that way, right?"

With increasing pressure from several anti-Shinra newspapers that have published damning articles lately about the damage that Mako reactors have done to the planet, Charlie knows that it's important to keep up the image of a stable company with the bettering of peoples' lives at the core of their priorities.

"Yes," she confesses, but she isn't sure it's the truth.

"Father says that it's your woman's heart that makes you soft," Rufus muses, letting his eyes flutter closed again as a few bikini-clad girls walk by, whispering excitedly behind their hands at the sight of Rufus. "But I disagree, because I've seen women three times as fierce as you—Scarlet, for instance. I think what makes you soft is that you know what it's like to have something stolen away from you. You sympathize with those people."

"You think I want to be President so badly?"

"Do you?"

"No," Charlie answers, but it's a lie. She won't pretend to herself that she hasn't imagined it, fantasized about it, whispered her deepest confessions to Reeve after making love to him. "You're the one that's been groomed for it. I wouldn't know what to do." She keeps an eye on the girls, who look over their shoulders once more towards her brother, who pays them no mind. "You have enemies, I'm sure, but I'm not one of them, Rufus."

Rufus humphs, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"Where's your pup, Rufus? Don't you bring Dark Nation to the beach?"

"Not since he scared away the only good-looking girl here." Rufus opens one eye to look at her. "What do you want me to do? Put him on a leash?"

Charlie smiles. "I've heard pets take after their owners."

She receives a rare smile of his own in return, a flash of perfect teeth. "Is that what you think?"

"A scary and dangerous looking thing, soft only for me?" Charlie shrugs innocently, looking out at the clear blue water. "That sounds exactly like you."

"Gods, I hate it when you joke around, Charlie."

"You're so droll. You've no sense of humor."

"I can be funny," Rufus retorts coldly, shifting in his chair and stiffening. "I just choose not to be. Nobody will ever take you seriously, Char."

"I can be serious," Charlie answers, lifting an eyebrow at the use of her father's nickname for her, and the use of one of their father's favorite criticisms. "I just choose not to be."

"Very funny."

"That was the point."

"How was your auction?" Rufus asks lazily, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Buy anything pretty?"

"Reeve bought me a lovely diamond tiara," Charlie sighs, smiling at the very thought of it. It had been heavy on her head, but perfect in size and fit, like it was meant for her. "I was able to secure some funding, but not enough. We're still two hundred thousand Gil short of what we need, not that I've told Father that."

"How was Father?"

"Vile," Charlie responds right away. "All he does is criticize my every word, and I think his sole purpose in life is to shame me everytime he speaks to Reeve." When she notices Rufus's frown deepen at the mention of Reeve's name, his eyes still gazing out towards the horizon, she asks quickly, "Why do you dislike him, Rufus? Reeve hasn't done anything to you."

"It's nothing that he's done, per se," Rufus answers begrudgingly. "Unless you count the corruption of my sister as an offense."

"Speak for yourself," Charlie murmurs, but he hears her all the same, choosing to remain silent. "I know the people you've chosen to associate with. Those Turks are far worse than Reeve ever was, is, or will be. I don't trust Reno or Elena in the slightest."

"You don't like Elena because she reminds you of that girl," Rufus chuckles darkly, "remember? What was her name? The one that ran off with your captain."

"What does it matter? That was years ago, and I'm engaged to Reeve now."

"Even I have to admit that Reeve is better than that illiterate cowboy."

In truth, Charlie can't really ever remember a time where Rufus and Reeve got along as friends, let alone friendly acquaintances. Neither of them have ever shared the same interests, neither of them have the same goals, neither of them have similar personalities. While Reeve is polite and courteous towards others and strangers and, especially, Rufus, her brother takes it upon himself to make Reeve as uncomfortable as possible, interrogating him about his intentions with Charlie, bringing up past mistakes, cold and bitter and unafraid to offend.

Charlie knows that he's only protective, and it's always been like that. Rufus has never liked the idea of her dating, especially when she had been younger, and when she had shown more interest in one man than others, Rufus would immediately attempt to stop things from going any further than appropriate. It happened with Cid, and he tried desperately to make it happen with Reeve, but Reeve wasn't about to be scared away so easily.

"All right, I'll do it," Rufus says suddenly, startling her.

"You'll do what?"

"I'll fund the rest of your slum project," he explains, and it takes a moment for Charlie to realize he's being completely serious. "You say you need two hundred thousand, I'll give you five hundred thousand."

Floored, Charlie sits up straight in her chair, looking down at her brother. "Oh, Rufus, you don't have to use your own money!" she whispers, reaching out to wrap thin fingers around his wrist. "I wasn't asking for your help, really—"

"No, it's settled," he interrupts, taking her hand and squeezing it before letting go. "I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"Father will be angry with you."

"It's not his money, it's mine, to do with as I please." Rufus smiles, but it has neither warmth or kindness in it. "And it would please me to give the money to you. When have I ever denied you anything, Charlie?"

"Never."

Rufus hums, and the two of them settle back into a comfortable silence.

For years, she and Rufus have enjoyed the warm sands and quiet life in Costa del Sol—not just in the four years (or has it been longer?) since Rufus was assigned a "top secret overseas assignment", either. The Shinra beach house was a place of refuge for Charlie as a little girl, left there with Rufus and some Turk to look after them while their father was away on business.

Her favorite Turk had been an older, stern man named Veld, a man with deep lines in his face and a noticeable lack of smile lines, someone Rufus had admired, and who used to call her "little princess". Sometimes he would read her stories before bed, and when he did that, Charlie remembers how sad his face had always looked when he said "good-night" afterwards and left her in the dark. Other times, when he took her to the open market for something to buy, he would hold her little girl's body up upon his strong shoulders so she could see over everyone's heads.

And some nights, when the beach house seemed too far away to walk to after a long day of playing in the sand or swimming or walking around the town, Veld would scoop her up into his arms, supporting her with his sturdy prosthetic one as she slept against his shoulder, half her body damp and covered in sand, her hair tangled from the water.

It's been years since she's even seen or heard from Veld, his resignation having come as a surprise to her under mysterious circumstances that Rufus wouldn't explain to her, and just like that, he was gone from her life.

Tseng had been one of her favorites, as well, before he had become the leader, but he had been quiet and content to let Charlie and Rufus do what they pleased without much concern, given that they had been old enough to care for themselves at the time. He had only been a few years older than Charlie—the two of them got along quite well when they walked the city together, but while she liked to sunbathe on the beach, Tseng would sit right beside her, sweating in his dark blue suit, still and silent as a statue.

Now, the few remaining Turks—save Tseng—are all a little quirky and less intimidating than Veld had been, but they're Rufus's only friends, so Charlie tries wholeheartedly to be friendly with them.

"Excuse me—?"

Charlie lowers her sunglasses to better see the figure standing over her, unfamiliar and bulky, a tight little swimsuit hugging his narrow waist. "Yes?" she asks impatiently, looking him up and down, his dark hair slicked back and his skin leathery and tanned.

"Are you—" The man looks nervously over his shoulder, towards two other men nodding at him eagerly. He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at Charlie again. "Are you Charlotte Shinra?"

"Yes," she answers curtly.

He looks relieved to hear her say so. "Right," he says, "do you think my friend could get a picture with you?"

"My sister is not here for your amusement," Rufus hisses, startling the man.

"Yes, Mr. Vice President . . . sorry, ma'am—Miss Shinra—" The man runs back to his friends, clearly shaken, and it amuses Charlie that someone half the man's size had cowed him so easily with a few choice words.

Rufus continues to mutter under his breath, but sighs contently after settling back against his chair once more.

Charlie gives her head a shake, laughing to herself. "You're a bastard, Rufus."