"Don't be starin' at my ass. I'm self-conscious, you know."

Charlie glances up, blushing when she looks. "Then stop shaking it in my face, you idiot."

Cid pulls himself up to the platform, dropping his bag on the metal and reaching down for Charlie's hand. As she nears the top, she takes Cid's hand in her own, allowing him to pull her up with surprising strength and letting go as if this simple contact was nothing to him.

She cradles her hand against her chest, the heat of his skin still lingering on her own.

"Okay, listen, I know you're used to fancy gourmet food, so I hope this cheap take-out don't make you sick." Cid clears his throat, sitting down on the platform and propping himself comfortably against the rocket. He digs around in his canvas bag, withdrawing several cans of beer, a fifth of whiskey, the food he had promised her, and an unopened pack of cigarettes. "What're you doin'? Come sit down."

Charlie smiles, tracing her lower lip with her tongue before finally agreeing to sit, keeping a safe amount of distance between them. "How are we going to get back down if we start drinking?" she asks.

Cid scoffs, opening the box with Charlie's food and sticking a pair of chopsticks in the center of the sticky rice pile. "I've done it plenty of times, and I ain't dead yet," he replies. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go down first and you can just jump instead of climb. I'll catch you."

The serious and matter-of-fact way he delivers that statement catches Charlie off guard. "You seem very confident. Have you caught many women from the top of our rocket?"

"Ain't no one comes up here besides me," he says, glancing up from his food in her direction, eyebrows raised to his hairline. "And you." Cid pats the platform he's seated upon, impatient. "Sit down."

"You don't give me commands, Captain."

He doesn't falter. Instead, the corners of his lips quirk upwards. "Sit down," he says again, slowly this time, as if Charlie hadn't been listening the first time. "And eat your goddamn food."

Charlie sits, but she isn't sure she can eat. Butterflies flutter around madly in her stomach, and she's afraid of what Cid might think to ask her while they're alone, while he has the chance. She's afraid of having to answer for her decision to fire him, she's afraid of having to explain her role within Shinra Inc. in detail, she's afraid of having to talk about the events that pushed her and Reeve together.

So instead of waiting for him to swallow the massive amount of food in his mouth (his cheek bulges out like a greedy little rodent, but it's sort of cute, in a childish way), Charlie begins the conversation, hoping it take control from the start. "When did you move here?"

Cid looks sideways at her, swallowing loudly and washing it down with a long drink of beer. He coughs, wipes his mouth on his sleeve. Charlie finds herself unable to look away, despite his obvious lack of manners. "Few months after I left," he answers, almost too readily. "Caught wind that they were thinkin' 'bout makin' some fuckin' tourist trap town and I offered to help with construction. Left Junon, never went back. Was lookin' for an out, anyway."

"You don't like Junon?"

"It's a military town," he says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "And I ain't military anymore. Besides, here, I got a place for the Tiny Bronco. Ain't nowhere to put her when you're livin' in a tiny apartment in Junon."

"Do you ever think about leaving this place?"

"Why would I?" Cid gestures to her rocket, smiling. "If you can find me a place that would accept my rocket—"

"Your rocket?"

"Shit, I ain't seen you doin' any work on her lately."

Charlie grits her teeth, but allows him to joke about it. If she wanted to, she could have someone on their way, come to collect the rocket (in pieces or not) within five minutes. All she would have to do is place a few quick calls to Headquarters, and she could really show him then whose rocket it is.

Thankfully, Cid talks very little about the rocket after that, perhaps realizing that he's touched a nerve. He goes on at length about the process of building Rocket Town and what an adventure that had been, and then he talks about the handiwork he's been doing around the town and how he makes his living off odd jobs here and there.

It makes Charlie feel sad for him, struggling to survive in a town marked by disaster, but he doesn't seem to be doing so bad. He lives like Charlie might imagine a single man to live—his kitchen always empty, watching too much television, skipping a shower or two. She doesn't even want to talk about her own life, afraid that Cid might not take it kindly, afraid that Cid will only mock her for the luxury lifestyle she enjoys living.

But Cid's life isn't interesting enough to last them the entire evening. Charlie is only halfway through her meal when conversation switches to her, and he seems to make it his sole goal to embarrass her as much as possible.

"Tell me 'bout that speech," he says plainly, shoveling food in his mouth as if he hasn't eaten a day in his life before now. "You said you weren't gonna give it."

"Maybe that's all you need to know," she shoots back.

"Damn, you don't have to get defensive 'bout it." Cid holds his hands up in surrender, seemingly on the verge of rolling his eyes at her, but thinking better of it at the last moment. "Was only askin' a question." He smiles, raising an eyebrow. "I used to like that commercial you starred in. The one with the real catchy music."

"No," Charlie says, unable to keep her smile at bay now. She knows exactly what commercial he's talking about, one that she has yet to live down within the company, as well. "No, don't even talk about that."

"It was so catchy! How did it go again?" He puts his food down to think hard, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. "Dun dun dun, dun dun, dun dun bah bah bah—"

"Stop it!" she laughs, giving his arm a playful swat. "It's so embarrassing!"

Cid continues to hum the music, stopping and restarting to try it once more. "Bum bum bum bum, dun dun—" His hand rises and falls with the pitch, his offkey singing rather endearing—"dun dun dun dun, bah-dah, bah-dah—" He cuts off abruptly, grinning toothily at her. "You don't like, watch yourself, do you?"

"Sometimes," she admits. It's hard to avoid herself on television, given that she's on almost all the time, whether it be on some replayed speech or a recent news development or advertisements sponsored by rich friends of her father. "It doesn't really bother me all that much."

"Guess if you were ugly, it'd be different," he laughs.

Charlie can only laugh along with him, softly. The conversation is straying towards dangerous territory, and she fights the urge to flee.

Thankfully, Cid keeps conversation light and encourages her to drink and drink and drink, even when she struggles to consume the horrible beer he's brought for them. She scrunches her nose with each drink, and it makes him laugh.

After she's had three cans of that piss-water and after finishing her food, Charlie's drunken brain and full stomach bolster her courage.

"So, are you going to tell me the truth now?"

"The truth 'bout what?"

"About Shera, living with you."

Cid tilts his head back and lets out a 'ha!' before lighting up a cigarette, giving his head a shake. "I'm tellin' you, Lottie, there ain't nothin' goin' on between us, and there never will be." When this isn't enough for Charlie, he continues, knowing what she's thinking before she's even thinking it. "She was here, helpin' with construction after everythin'. You took everythin' from her when you sacked her. Her job, then she lost her home . . . ain't no one wants to hire someone who pissed off Charlotte Shinra, especially when the company who hires the most employees is run by Charlotte Shinra's daddy."

Charlie's jaw clenches tight. "It wasn't my fault the department was defunded."

"Yeah? Then what happened after you left base camp?"

She hesitates, certainly not going to tell Cid that both her brother and her fiancé voted to defund her department. "My father relieved me of my position," she answers, "and I had nothing to do with whatever followed."

"No one got their pension, like you promised we would. No one got an apology, an explanation, severance pay. Nothin', Lotti, nothin' for us regular workin' people."

"It wasn't my fault."

Cid scoffs, looking away from her and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "And how long did it take for that fuckin' snake to come onto you?"

Charlie knows that it's going to start a fight. She knows that talking about Reeve will only cause Cid to grow tense, defensive, irritable, but the disdain with which Cid speaks of her future husband infuriates her. He doesn't even know Reeve, not to the extent that Charlie does, and to hear him being compared to the other horrible executives and suits that work at Shinra Inc. is borderline offensive.

"He comforted me in the days after," she explains.

"Ah," he retorts, his lip curling. "So he waited for Charlotte Shinra to lose everythin' before makin' a move on you, is that how it is? He couldn't even call you by your name in the days before the launch."

"It wasn't like that," she tells him flatly. "He wouldn't do anything that I didn't want, and he definitely calls me by my name now."

"You settled."

"I didn't settle. I've known him for ten years of my life, Cid, and I loved him long before I met you."

It's a low blow, and she knows it. She can see something flicker in his eyes, anger maybe, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. She's seen cold anger like this before, but normally Rufus is the one wearing the expression.

"I didn't realize how little I fuckin' meant to you."

"Is that what you think? It's because I cared about you so much that I couldn't . . . I wasn't going to get you involved with my life, with my family. You know what they're like. How could I do that to you?"

He smashes the end of his cigarette against the cool metal, putting it out instantly and huffing, pouting, crossing his arms over his chest and brooding against the rocket. "Did you even think 'bout me once after the launch?"

Charlie deflates, the anger leaving her. He's only heartbroken, and Charlie had left him without closure, without an apology, with an explanation. She had left him to survive in a world where he was branded a failure. "Of course I thought about you," she whispers, reaching out to touch his wrist, but Cid jerks away from her. "What did you think was going to happen? You knew who I was. You knew the whole time."

"I dunno."

"We were friends, Cid—"

"Don't do that to me," he snaps. "You knew I didn't wanna just be friends. Even with you bein' a Shinra—"

"Gods, you just can't get over that, can you?" Charlie hisses, running her hands through her hair. It's like hearing him say the very word, her last name, sends an entire shockwave through her, making her feel sick to her stomach. "I didn't ask to be who I am! I didn't ask to be a Shinra, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to live up to that expectation!"

"What expectation?" Cid asks, arguably just as angry as she is. "Why do you have to do anythin', Lottie?" Frustrated, he drags a hand down his face, groaning. "When was the last time you even did anythin' for yourself? When was the last time you did somethin' that made you happy?"

"I'm happy," she reminds him stiffly. "You don't know anything about my life—"

"Yeah, your perfect fuckin' life," he says, voice dripping with venom. Charlie can feel her cheeks growing pink, hating the way that Cid is so unafraid (or is he just stupid?) to stand up to her. "Your life must be real goddamn perfect for you to wanna hop on a plane and fly across the world to come here." He suddenly gets to his feet, startling Charlie. "You know what? I don't need your fuckin' pity party or whatever it is you think you're doin'. You must think I'm too stupid to understand, but I get the message loud and clear. You can leave now."

"You can't tell me to leave," she answers, getting slowly to her feet to look up into his face. "This is my rocket."

"Is it?" He laughs in her face, and Charlie's hand twitches. How easy it would be to hold her hand up and strike him across the face. "Can't you let me have this one thing? You got a nice cushy job, all the money in the world, my airship, a husband that's too afraid to stand up and call you a bitch when you're bein' one—"

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're bein' a bitch, Lottie! A spoiled, frigid bitch!" he shouts, hunching over to move closer to her face, their noses almost touching. "And this is my goddamn rocket!" He grimaces at the sight of her, anger flashing across her face. She can feel it, the way her mouth is so tight, the way her jaw aches. "What? Not used to people tellin' you the truth to your face?"

"Do you have any idea what I could do to you for speaking to me that way?"

"You can't fire me, that's for sure," he replies, leaning back and putting his hands on his hips. He looks too smug for his own good. "You gonna tie me up like a fat hog and fly me back to HQ? Go on, then. Do it. Doesn't make you any less of a bitch."

"Stop calling me a bitch!"

"Then stop actin' like one!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" Their voices echo throughout the night, and Charlie is sure that everyone within five miles will be able to hear their argument. "You've always been a fuckin' brat, but no one's ever been brave enough to tell you!"

She hates him. She hates him hates him hates him. She hates him.

But maybe this is why she came back. Maybe . . . just to see what it would feel like to have a friend again, a real friend, because Cid's absolutely right.

Charlie could do the most twisted thing imaginable to Reeve and, chances are, he would thank her for it. Never would he stand up to her, stand up for himself, especially not after being shot and beaten down so many times before within the company, expelling the willpower from him, expelling the confidence from him.

She exhales, feeling as if Cid has knocked the wind out of her. For a moment, she can't bring herself to look him in the eyes, and he softens because of it, his shoulders loosening, his hands reaching out to take hold of her arms, but leaving them hovering above her jacket.

"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Cid sighs, mumbling to himself. "Lottie . . ."

Charlie looks back up at him, ashamed, fully prepared to break down into tears at the slightest thing, afraid of what is going to set her off. Cid lowers his hands back to his sides, brave enough to speak the truth, too much of a coward to even touch her.

"Do you want to know why I really came back here?" she asks quietly, hoping that any eavesdroppers have closed their windows again or gone indoors.

The corners of his mouth twitch. "Yeah."

Charlie blushes. It's not often that she speaks so plainly of her feelings to Reeve. It's not that she doesn't trust him, but the idea of projecting the image of her as some broken little girl is not the most appealing thing in the world.

"I feel like, ever since the day of the launch . . . ever since I left . . . sometimes I just feel like a machine, a cog in my father's machine." She pauses. It's so easy to stand in front of six cameras and millions of people watching to give a speech, but why is this so hard? "I feel like I left a part of me behind here, and I've never been able to get it back."

Cid clears his throat, looking up to the nose of the rocket before glancing back at her. "You mean the rocket?"

She gives her head a slight shake. "No," she says. "Not really." Charlie shifts uncomfortably, accidentally kicking over an empty beer can in the process, watching it tumble over the side of the platform to fall slowly to the ground far below. "I never pretended to be anyone different around you, Cid. That version of me . . . that was the best version of myself anyone has ever seen. And I want to feel like that again. That's why I came back here."

"How did you feel?"

She smiles incredulously, at a loss. "Free," she answers after a moment's hesitation.

"Free?"

Charlie nods, an embarrassed little smile on her face. "I think so."

Cid thinks for a moment, stroking at his scratchy chin. If he's still angry with her, he hides it well. If she knows anything about him, it's that he can't stay angry with her for very long, his hard exterior always crumbling the moment she smiles up at him, their argument forgotten.

"Well . . ." he says, thinking hard. "Maybe you just gotta shake things up."

"Shake things up?"

"Yeah. Do somethin' that scares you."

"Why would I do something like that?" Charlie asks.

"'Cause it'll make you feel good." Cid shoves his hands deep into his pockets. "When was the last time somethin' really scared you?"

The answer comes to her easily. "Well, there was a break-in at Headquarters a few years ago and I thought I was going to be cut down by some rogue Wutai soldiers. Thankfully, Tseng found me in time."

Cid pauses, opening his mouth to answer, but closing it at the last minute, laughing to himself. "I didn't mean like that," he teases. "I meant, when was the last time you did somethin' that scared you?"

"Oh." She thinks again. She had been scared to stand up with her father's speech in hand and tell the people how she really felt. She had been scared to disappoint her father. She had been a coward, though, unable to go through with it. "Um . . . I was scared to go into the slums before, but I did, and I'm not anymore."

"I don't think that counts. Try again."

"Okay." Charlie really reaches for something to tell him this time, trying to think even harder.

Not much frightens her, truthfully, and the most exciting and thrilling thing that's happened to her over the past few years was the first time she had convinced Reeve to make love to her in his office. That had taken a lot of convincing.

Cid snaps his fingers in front of Charlie's face after she takes too long to respond. "Hey! You good?" Something must show in her face, because he's quick to continue. "Hey, it's all right. Not everyone's a risk taker."

"But I—" Charlie feels the lump forming in her throat, breathing slightly heavier. "I don't want to be . . . I just want to be who I was before."

"Look—" Cid puts his hand on Charlie's shoulder, squeezing gently—"you're just . . . you're just gettin' cold feet 'bout your marriage, that's all. It happened to my buddy, before he got married. He had some kinda breakdown two months beforehand and said he was gonna travel the world 'cause he'd never see it again, but he never did it, and now he's a drunk 'cause of it."

This doesn't make Charlie feel better at all. "This has nothing to do with my marriage. This isn't my pre-marriage crisis or whatever you think it is."

Cid has the grace to look abashed, as if he knows that he's spoken out of turn.

"I have the perfect life. Women want to be me, they want my fiancé. I have money and a powerful family name and a respectable career," she confesses to herself, sighing. "Why can't that be enough for me?"

"Everyone wants what they can't have, Lottie."

"Even you?"

He snorts. "Especially me."

Charlie chews on her lower lip, wondering how much she could tell Cid. She wonders if there is anything that would scare him away now, if he would be understanding about her passing information to an eco-terrorist group, if he would listen to her complain about her tedious life.

"I want to be someone other than my father's daughter," she admits, surprised that it slips out of her so easily. She blames it on the beer Cid had been feeding her. "I want people to see me the way you did, all those years ago."

He blushes handsomely, looking surprised at her confession. His hand jumps to the back of his neck, rubbing it uncomfortably and looking away.

The both of them jump as Charlie's phone begins to ring, tucked away in her jacket pocket. She pulls it out quickly, and doesn't fail to notice Cid craning his neck to get a look at who's calling her, but if he had been expecting Reeve (and that's who Charlie had expected, as well), he's wrong.

"Sorry, can you give me a moment?" she asks Cid, who nods impatiently. She turns her back on him, looking out amongst the dimly lit town of Rocket Town, the cityscape far less beautiful than that of Midgar's at night. Charlie holds the phone up to her ear. "What do you want?"

"I expected a warmer hello," Reno laughs from the other line. "You'll never guess where I am right now."

Charlie scoffs, stunned into silence. "What are you talking about? I'm a bit busy. Is Rufus with you?"

"No, but Rude is. I'll tell him you said hi."

"Then why are you calling me? Is everyone all right?"

"You have to guess where I am."

"I'm not playing games with you, Reno." She glances over her shoulder to see Cid quickly avert his eyes, looking up at the stars. "What's going on? Why are you calling me?"

"You're no fun, Charlie. I'm in Sector Seven. Your boyfriend's project is comin' along nicely, by the way."

Charlie closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to control her temper, wishing she could reach through the phone and wring Reno's skinny little neck. "Is that seriously what you're calling for?"

"Nah. We're on recon duty, and as your friend—"

"We aren't friends."

"Well, I'd change your tune on that. Got some info that you might be interested in, and I'll have you know, you're the first person I called."

Charlie gives Cid an apologetic look, holding up a finger to him. She considers climbing all the way back down to have some privacy, but it would take too long. Reno sounds rather smug on the other line, and she doesn't want to wait any longer.

"What happened?" she asks, a little gentler this time for fear that he'll leave her hanging. It's been known to happen before.

"Well, it happened like this. Rude and I were assigned to keep an eye out for anything strange in—"

"Is there any way that you could possibly speed this process up?" she snaps.

"Take it easy, Charlie, what're you, on a date or something? I'm gettin' there. So anyway, we're keepin' an eye on Seventh Heaven. You heard of it?"

"Yes, of course." The bartender of Seventh Heaven had always been relatively polite towards Charlie and Reeve, who typically use the bar as a public place to meet grounders with grievances, despite the rumors of the bar being Avalanche's hideout.

"You'll never guess who just went in."

"Who?"

"You want a hint? She's a knock-out, solid nine, a ten if she had tits—"

"Reno, I don't have time for this!"

"Fine! You're suckin' all the fun outta everything, Charlie!" Reno grumbles and Charlie can hear Rude talking in the background, but can't make out what he's saying. "Your assistant just waltzed right into Seventh Heaven, and looks like she is awfully familiar with the bartender."

Charlie feels her heart stop momentarily.

"Now, last I checked . . . that girl lives up in Sector Four, doesn't she? Topside? So you tell me what a pretty little topside girl is doing hangin' round some terrorist hideout."

Not wanting to give herself away, Charlie scoffs. "Why are you calling me, then, instead of Tseng? Or Rufus?"

"Thought I'd just check-in and see if there's anything you wanna tell us, Charlie."

"Is there something you're interested in hearing me say?"

"Dunno, you tell me."

"I have nothing to say, let alone to you."

"That hurts, y'know. We've known each other a long time. If you got somethin' to say, I'd say it's a lot safer to tell me than anyone else."

The last thing she wants is to finish this conversation in front of Cid. The last thing she wants is for Cid to see her as some ruthless businesswoman, no different than anyone else at Shinra Inc., but she doesn't want Reno and Rude, of all people, to bring shady information to a superior about her own assistant.

"Leave me assistant alone, you tool," she hisses through the speaker, hoping that her point will be made without having to make it face to face. "Or I'll tell Rufus you touched me, and he'll beat you bloody."

"That's a low blow."

"You know he will."

"I know it. Hey, why'd you make your boyfriend fire his last assistant? I was trying to bang that broad, y'know—"

"Good-bye, Reno."

Charlie hangs up, allowing herself to breathe again. The information has certainly left her shaken, but she's quite glad that it had been Reno and Rude to discover this. Pia hasn't been to Seventh Heaven in some time, she knows, the last time having been a year ago, when she had joined Charlie and Reeve in the slums to help them find employment opportunities for some of the grounders.

Quickly, she sends Pia a message, hoping that nothing will be traced back to her.

Reno called. Turks watching. Be careful.

Pocketing her phone again, Charlie turns to Cid. "I'm sorry," she breathes. "But I think I'll have to leave town early."

His expression of impatience immediately turns to one of concern. "Is everything okay back home?"

"It's my assistant," she tells him. "Don't worry about it."

She smiles reassuringly at her, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. She's suddenly acutely aware of the situation she's in, having a cheap dinner and drinks with Cid, a world away from her fiancé, all in the hopes of feeling the stirrings of passion again.

Charlie falters, looking around her. "Oh," she moans, mentally kicking herself. "Cid, I should go."

"What? No! Stay," he pleads, moving closer as she takes a step back. "Where you goin'?"

"I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, hey—" His hands clamp down on her upper arms, keeping her still and facing him. "Don't go yet. I ain't seen you in so long. Keep talkin'."

"Please don't touch me."

Cid releases her immediately, holding his hands up in surrender. "You're really gonna leave? Just like that?"

"In the morning," she answers, so ashamed that she could cry. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to—"

"What?"

"I'm engaged," she states plainly, touching the ring on her left hand in all of its glory, beautiful and expensive and exquisite. "And I love him very, very much."

"That's what you think I'm doin'?"

Go on, run away, she tells herself. You're too much of a coward to do anything that scares you. She had done the same thing the night before the launch, when Cid kissed her. "I have a reputation to maintain."

Cid's face hardens, his chest swelling. "Yeah, wouldn't be good PR for you to be seen sneakin' away with someone like me, would it?"

Charlie can't even argue against it. "I'm sorry."

As she turns, lowering herself to the ground to hurry down the first of several ladders, Cid calls out, "Charlie."

She pauses, one foot on a rung. "Yes?"

His tongue swipes along his lower lip. "If you leave right now," he starts firmly, "please don't come back."

She won't let him see her cry. She won't. "I have to go."

"Fine. Then go."

And she does.

Cid watches the little plane takeoff from the topmost platform, the moon guiding her way through the night.

She said she'd wait until morning (he should have known better), which would have been plenty of time for him to catch her before she left. He could have brought flowers (does Charlie like flowers?) or maybe breakfast (everyone loves breakfast) and he would have made some half-assed apology about something he's not really sorry about.

Part of him worries, though. To see her leave so quickly after that phone call . . . he had expected it to be her fiancé, calling to make sure she wasn't spending her free time with some washed up pilot. If something did happen, would she tell him?

No, he thinks, likely not. Shinra, and those affiliated, love their little secrets.

Not that it matters anymore. He won't ever see her again.

The low growl of his guard dog wakes him.

He pushes himself onto an elbow, running his free hand through his hair. He listens for a moment, quieting his pup to hear for an intruder.

Dark Nation growls again at the sound of a door opening and closing slowly and softly from downstairs, towards the front of the house. Throwing the blankets off him, Rufus gets carefully to his feet, opening the drawer of his nightstand to withdraw a handgun.

Creeping quietly to the top of the stairs, he catches sight of a light on in the living room, yellow light spilling over the threshold. He isn't able to see who's inside the room, but Dark Nation goes on ahead, bounding down the stairs with his thick tail waving clumsily from side to side, turning the corner to enter the living room, growling louder, until—

"Shh! Dark Nation, be quiet! It's me!"

Rufus scoffs, lowering his gun and hurrying down the last few steps. "Charlie?"

Charlie runs to him within seconds, Dark Nation right on her heels. "Rufus!"

He grunts as she throws herself at him, burying her face into his bare chest. Wrapping his left arm around her, holding the gun away from her with his right hand, he gives her a moment to cry. His left hand sneaks up her back, cradling the nape of her neck. "I thought you were supposed to be in Rocket Town. What are you doing? Did you fly here yourself?"

"I'm done with Rocket Town," she cries, looking up into his face. "I want to stay here for the rest of the week."

Rufus smiles down at his sister. "Of course."

Though she refuses to tell him what had made her cry so much (he's certain it has something to do with that foul-mouthed pilot, and has every intention of crushing him the moment Charlie gives him the go-ahead), Rufus doesn't press her. She's come here instead of back to Midgar with Reeve, and her feet are in his lap as she sleeps soundly on the sofa, the flickering blue-white light of the television illuminating her face.

At some point, very late into the night, Rufus stands up to return to bed, covering his sister with a blanket kissing her temple. "Stay with her," he instructs his mutated guard hound.

He's reminded, briefly (the sound of the crashing sea filtering in through the open window, just like it did all those years ago), of his boyhood, a vivid memory of Charlie sneaking into his bedroom, the muffled voices of their parents echoing throughout the house, her eyes red from crying.

Charlie always sought comfort from him, but Rufus has to confess that she had brought him comfort, as well. Their mother had always been too busy doting on Charlie, and their father wouldn't have been caught dead hugging his children. To feel his sister's skinny little arms around him was the greatest source of comfort there was.

Father hadn't liked that, their sharing a bed so late into adolescence, and neither had their mother. It had always been his fault, according to Mother. It had been his fault Charlie kept slipping into his bed, as if Charlie couldn't possibly love him, as if he must have tricked her.

It had all been innocent, to be sure, but Mother always brought Charlie back to the proper bed in the end, always leaving Rufus cold and alone.