"Lettie . . . Lettie, wake up."
"Mama?"
A dark bruise on her cheek, her left eye swelling rapidly, even through the darkness. "Shush, Lettie. You don't want to wake your father. Pack your things."
"Are we going on vacation?"
A shaky voice, whispering, the clock face showing the dead of night. "Yes, Lettie. A vacation, my love. Pack your things now, and quickly."
"Is Rufus coming with us?"
"Not this time, my love, not this time. Pack your things, darling."
In her state of limbo, memories come swirling back to haunt her in the form of dreams. The image of her beautiful mother, adorned with purple and yellow bruises, mouth always drawn tight, eyes always sad. Father loved her once.
"I don't want to leave without Rufus!"
"Come, Lettie, you'll see your brother again."
Tears stinging her little girl eyes, burning, painful, heart aching. "No! I don't want to go without Rufus!"
Desperate pleading from her mother, frightened and crying. "Hush, Charlotte! You'll wake your father!"
"I don't care! I don't want to go!"
Charlie moans softly, rolling over on the firm sofa, where once they sat as a family, she in her father's lap and Rufus between their parents. She had fallen asleep against his chest, and her father had carried her up to bed.
"You're not taking my daughter! I won't allow it!"
The sound of flesh against flesh, hard contact, hard enough to bruise. Rufus clinging to her, the both of them shaking, only children, hiding underneath the blankets, never intending to part.
"I will not let that girl be condemned to a life in the slums, goddamnit! She's a Shinra! She's my daughter!"
Child hands keeping her safe, keeping her warm. A whispered promise uttered from the mouth of her little brother against her ear, smooth fingers brushing away the tears budding at the corners of her eyes. "I won't let her take you. I won't let you go to the slums."
Her hero, the only boy who ever protected her when she was little, who would kill for her now, who would hurt or maim or threaten anyone who touched her.
"Good-bye, Lettie."
"Don't go, mama."
"I have to go, my Lettie. I have to go . . . I love you so much . . ."
The rumbling of a big-wheeled truck, her sobbing mother sitting in the bed amongst her few things. "Mama! Mama! Don't go!"
The feeling of a hand in hers, squeezing tight, soft little fingers, a thumb carressing the smooth skin of her own hand, keeping her from running away through the gates of their home.
"Don't cry, Char. You're better off with us, anyway."
"Charlie!"
Her eyes snap open. Rufus's fingers are curled around her upper arm, having been shaking her awake. Charlie pushes herself up onto the arm of the sofa, breathing heavily. The memories are already fading fast.
She exhales a shaky breath, Rufus's grip tightening before he releases her completely. "You were talking in your sleep," he tells her, Dark Nation at his side, the thick appendage protruding from his bulky head waving back and forth, slowly, as if underwater. "You were dreaming about Mother, weren't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, getting back to his feet, already dressed and ready for the day's newest adventure. "Go get cleaned up. I'm taking you out for breakfast."
Charlie groans, rolling over to put her back to him. "I'm tired, Rufus. I have to fly back to Midgar today."
"I thought you were staying the rest of the week." Rufus grits his teeth. "Does Reeve know you're here?"
"Only you."
"Good morning, Director. Is there something I can help you with?"
Pia smiles brightly at him, thin eyebrows raised high. She's a cute little thing, young and soft-spoken, with insolence written all over her face, despite the polite way she speaks to others. He knows Charlie is rather attached to her, despite his fiancée's scorn towards other women who show any sign of objective outward beauty.
There's no denying it's odd that Charlie has kept her around for so long, considering she's always telling him to get rid of assistants the moment they show interest in him, which isn't as often as it may seem, but through Charlie's eyes, even polite conversation seems to indicate some sort of infatuation.
Reeve shifts uncomfortably, wondering how much Charlie tells her assistant. "I was wondering if you had heard from Charlotte," he begins, sitting down in one of the leather chairs in the small nook leading to Charlie's office. "She didn't call last night, and I was unable to get through to her this morning."
"Don't worry, Director," Pia answers gently. "Miss Shinra reached out late last night when she arrived safely in Costa del Sol."
His entire body tenses. "Costa del Sol?"
"Oh," Pia gasps quietly, placing a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize you weren't made aware." She lowers her hand, smiling again, almost knowingly. "It was a very last minute and spontaneous decision. I'm sure she's still sleeping. Is there anything else I can do for you, Director?"
If he didn't know any better, he might think she's pushing him out. "No, thank you," he answers her gruffly, standing up, adjusting his tie, and making back for the elevator.
Costa del Sol?
What in the world would drive her from Rocket Town to Costa del Sol so late at night?
Part of him feels he already knows. He's sure it has something to do with that overstepping and careless cowboy, having probably done something to offend her. But even the thought of Charlie seeing that rough-necked pilot is nothing to the idea of her running back into her brother's arms for comfort.
Charlie never wants to listen to him go on at length about Rufus. She doesn't ever want to hear anything that could taint her vision of Rufus, her vision of him as a paragon of all that is good, of all that is righteous.
She doesn't want to hear that Rufus is a leech, a parasite, clinging onto his older sister in the most possessive and jealous way, buying her love and affection through expensive gifts and jewelry, showering her with things beyond Reeve's own price tag (the ring alone had set him further back than he would have liked, but he needed Charlie's father to approve of it, as well). All of it is done in the name of love, under the guise of caring for his sister and keeping away those who don't deserve her.
It had been . . . difficult, he supposes. If Charlotte hadn't loved him so much, he might not have bothered at all. While President Shinra had been easy to appease, needing only a few promises about a future marriage and grandchildren, Rufus had been much harder. Nothing ever seemed to please the vice president, and no man that came within a mile of Charlie was ever good enough for her in Rufus's eyes.
Reeve had endured the insults, passive and to his face, had endured the resentment and jealousy and waves of rage that would possess Rufus from time to time (maybe Charlie isn't so different from her brother). He's sure he'll be forced to endure it his entire life, certain that Rufus will even have one last ditch effort to break them apart on their wedding day.
He calls six times, staggered over a ten minute period. The last thing he needs is for Charlie to come back spewing praise of Rufus, if he even allows her to return this time. No doubt that she would be locked in that beach house, if it were up to her brother.
Finally, on the seventh call after the third ring, someone answers her phone, but it's not Charlie.
"How many missed phone calls does it take for a certified genius to take a hint?"
"Sir," Reeve utters, scowling to no one in particular. He stands before the windows in his office, overlooking the sector below him in all of its smog-tinted glory. "I need to speak to Charlotte."
"She's indisposed, but I can take a message for you," Rufus replies, sounding bored on the other end. "I'll be sure to tell her the moment she's available again."
He's no fool. Maybe someone bolder, someone more courageous, might dig into Rufus, in his current situation. "Have her call me when she can," he sighs, smoothing his hair back out of his eyes.
"No need," Rufus says. "I've just thought of a wonderful idea."
"You'll send her home?"
"Nonsense. I thought we could all have dinner tonight. You're not too terribly busy to take a brief vacation, are you?"
"I am," Reeve answers, growing severely frustrated. "I can't make it to dinner."
"A shame. I'm taking Charlie to her favorite restaurant. She could really use it, I think, especially considering the entrance she made last night, crying up a storm."
Charlie, crying up a storm? Over what? What had Rocket Town done to her? What had that pilot done to her? Why hadn't he snuck Cait Sith aboard her plane? Why hadn't he insisted someone go with her, a Turk or a SOLDIER or a few security guards? Why had he let her go by herself? "I can't tonight," he repeats.
"I'm not asking anymore." Rufus's voice is cold and low. "I'll call in to have a plane readied for your departure in—" He pauses for a moment, and Reeve can feel his chest contracting, a cold and steel trap around his heart to know that Charlie is with this man whose sole ambition in life is to spite everyone around him—"let's say two hours. That should be plenty of time for you to arrive and get settled."
He really, really doesn't want to fly all the way to Costa del Sol just to fly all the way back after a painfully awkward dinner with Charlie and her brother. He hates flying to begin with, especially in those little planes that Charlie is so fond of, and he'll have to reschedule three important meetings to make it there on time, not that Rufus cares about any of that.
It's a challenge—it's always a challenge to the vice president. Reeve already knows what will happen if he agrees (does he even have a choice anymore?). He'll show up in Costa del Sol to be forced to bear witness to Rufus trying his hardest to win Charlie over, trying to make her smile and laugh and blush. He doesn't think there's any worse feeling in the world, watching his fianceé's brother attempt to sweep his fianceé off her feet.
In the end, he's forced to agree to Rufus's request, wondering what's keeping Charlie away from her phone for so long.
Why hadn't she called? Why hadn't she at least sent him a quick message indicating her desire to leave Rocket Town early? What happened to her that she was hesitant to tell him?
Or perhaps he's overthinking the entire thing.
One meeting he's able to configure via e-mail, one meeting is done within thirty minutes after several apologies to his staff about being called away for an emergency, and the third meeting needs to be rescheduled, but his new assistant has a hard time working it out in the computer with her severe lack of training, so Reeve has to recommend her to Pia for help before he loses his mind.
Thankfully, Pia is patient enough, going through the motions with his new assistant, and taking over so he's able to sneak away.
Rufus doesn't remember much about his mother.
He remembers that she could be pretty when she wasn't tinged with some ugly color, her face swollen more often than not. He remembers that she could sing, but only because he used to listen at Charlie's door when their mother sang for their daughter. He remembers that she loved to look through her telescope, showing Charlie all the different constellations, and he remembers hanging out his window to see what kinds of pictures he could see amongst the bright and flickering stars.
And he remembers one of their last real interactions, days before Mother left them on the back of a truck, waving tearfully at her children.
He had been wondering why he couldn't go to the same school as Charlie, and his mother had shushed him, saying, "Quiet, Rufus, your sister's a genius!"
Mother always did love Charlie best, always having high hopes for her daughter, always pushing her daughter to be the best, to be the smartest, to work hard at the cost of a social life, all while Father had been grooming Rufus to run the company, insisting that Charlie's talents were misplaced.
He sets Charlie's phone down, still able to hear the slapping of water against the shower tiles from above his head.
Dinner with his future brother-in-law will certainly be something new, something to change up the dull lifestyle he's developed here. If anything, it will be a chance for Rufus to show Reeve how his sister ought to be treated. He even considers calling up that girl from the bar he'd met weeks ago and has been avoiding ever since. She might be fun to have along with the three of them, and if anything, she would serve to make Charlie jealous, despite the glaringly obvious difference in their outward appearances.
"What are you doing with my phone?"
Rufus turns, looking over his shoulder. Charlie's coming down the stairs in a short little dress that doesn't look at all like one he's ever gotten for her. Her legs are toned, athletic, not at all the skinny little things she used to have as a child, slightly knock-kneed to contrast with their father's bow-legged stance.
Her hair is still wet and unbrushed, pushed out of her face and knotted at the ends, and she's not wearing any jewelry or makeup. She approaches him, feet leaving behind a small amount of water on the hardwood floors of the house, holding out her hand expectantly as Rufus cradles her phone to his chest.
He smiles politely, dropping it into her outstretched hand, watching her long fingers close around it. "Reeve called," he says, watching Charlie lift her eyes again to give him an angry look. "I invited him to dinner."
"I told you, Rufus, I have to go home today. And besides, he's far too busy to—"
"He's coming."
Charlie blinks at him, looking rather surprised. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. He clearly respects my word."
"I don't believe you." And with that, she stalks off, back up the stairs to continue getting ready. It always takes her so goddamn long to get ready, but the payoff is usually worth it.
Charlie is a beautiful woman, and everyone always knew she would be. Whenever she would be seen with their father, everyone would comment on the beauty she would be in a few years, and of course President Shinra would take credit for it, for Charlie did have the "Shinra look" to her, after all, and without it, she would be nothing.
Security officers, administrative assistants, SOLDIER members, Reeve . . . everyone loved Charlie, and everyone still does. Any fear they may feel in regards to Charlie is likely because they know what her father would do if anything were to happen to her (because despite everything, it's obvious President Shinra is fond of her after all the good work she's done for the company in the past few years), and they know that Rufus would stop at nothing to ensure his sister's safety.
She'll make a fine vice president, he decides. She'll be wonderful at keeping up the morale of the people during such staggeringly strange times, she'll be wonderful at reassuring the public of his own competence, reassuring them that Shinra Inc. will be better under him than it ever was under their father.
Besides, people hardly hear her when she talks. He knows that most people see her face and tune out the words filtering from her mouth, wanting only to look at her. Most people forget that she's supposed to be a genius, taking one look at her and deciding they know her already.
When he hears the closing of Charlie's bedroom door, Rufus retires to the living room, where Dark Nation still rests peacefully, his tail moving every so often. One of his dark eyes opens to watch Rufus maneuver into the room, sitting down on the sofa where Charlie had slept last night.
As fun as it is to toy with Reeve, to watch him squirm and shift and stutter after being asked some insolent question and attempting to force himself to remain calm and polite in the face of the vice president, Rufus knows that it will come to an end very shortly. In a few months, his sister will be married off to him, and their father will transfer whatever affection he has remaining for Rufus and bestow it upon Reeve, the son he never had, the son he wished he had.
Rufus isn't stupid. He hasn't failed to take notice of the change in his father. If he didn't know any better, he might think Father was grooming Reeve to take over the company, and that thought doesn't sit well with Rufus.
Charlie and Reeve would be a popular choice to run the company, of course, but Rufus knows better. They would run it into the ground completely, giving things away instead of raising pricing, using their charm and good looks and genius and charisma and kindness to get what they need instead of using fear or money to dominate the people of Midgar.
He refuses to hand his power, his title, his future over to anyone, especially Reeve. He refuses to submit after all the years spent at his father's side, listening in on meetings and ordering people three times his age around.
He's going to have to do something about his father before this goes too far.
When he finally lands in Costa del Sol, his stomach is churning so badly that he isn't certain he'll be able to stomach dinner.
Charlie and Rufus are already waiting at the bar of the designated restaurant, their heads together, deep in conversation. She's wearing a handsome dress that shows off her legs, the back of her dress plunging to reveal more skin that he likes in front of her brother (of all the people in the world, why does he have to be her brother).
Rufus laughs at something (a strange sight), his smile the same as his sister's, though Reeve can count on one hand the amount of times he's seen Rufus genuinely smile. A pale, spidery hand comes up to rest lightly on the small of Charlie's exposed back, in a casual way that he deeply mislikes.
Charlie looks over her shoulder and spots him before he's halfway to the bar. Her face lights up at the very sight of him, and she breaks away from Rufus to meet him, running towards him and jumping into his open arms, kissing his face all over with not a care in the world as to who may be watching.
"I missed you," she breathes, kissing him on the cheek again as he sets her back on her feet. "I'm sorry I didn't call last night. I guess I missed the beach too much." She must see something in his face, because she immediately looks apologetic. "I'm sorry about this. I meant to come home this afternoon."
Despite his obvious frustration, Reeve smiles down at her, his heart softening upon hearing her speak to him again, this time not through the phone. "The moment we get home, I'm locking you up."
"Stop it," she teases, laughing sweetly and giving his chest a playful swat. "You're starting to sound like Rufus." Wrapping her arms around his waist, she sighs happily, looking at him for a long time. "Did you miss me?"
"Terribly."
"Did you think of me?"
"Every minute."
Looking at her now, he finds it hard to believe what Rufus had told him only this morning. Charlie has always been good at masking her feelings, but she hardly seems changed, hardly seems as if, just last night, she had come here crying. There's a bright and playful smile on her face, and she seems glad to be here, despite her apology.
There's so much he wants to ask her, but it will just have to wait until they're on their way home, and that's only if Charlie feels like talking about it. If she doesn't, Reeve might never hear about it at all.
He can certainly see why this place is Charlie's favorite. It never seems to get cold in Costa del Sol, so there's available dining on the balcony year round. The breeze off the water is nice, and the setting sun reflects off the water and casts them into the pink and orange shadow.
But the air is too salty, he's tired of seeing everyone dressed in skimpy swimsuits, too many heads are turned at the sight of both Rufus and Charlie, and it's too hot. He prefers the relatively temperate climate of Midgar, the artificial warmth due to the reactors, the lights of the city at night from the wide bedroom window in their apartment, the lack of sand.
Gods, he hates sand.
Charlie loves it here, he knows. She spent much of her life within the beach house that dominates the other, smaller buildings that surround it, and it's no surprise to him that she has developed a certain fondness for the tourist town. And, the few times he has visited for a day or so with her, it had been nice to watch her lie back in a small swimsuit to let the sun touch her flesh, oblivious to the other men around her, gawking and whispering behind their hands.
Reeve watches them carefully throughout dinner, hating himself for the jealous way his chest tightens. Charlie clearly enjoys her brother's company, and Rufus goes on to detail all the little gifts he'd accumulated for Charlie, including a new necklace (exquisite in the sunlight, the diamond perfectly posed upon the divet between her collarbones, as white as her skin).
Rufus touches her so casually, refills her wine glass, orders food for her instead of asking what she wants. Charlie doesn't even seem to mind, but her foot bumps into his own underneath the table every so often, and when Reeve looks up to meet her eyes, it's to find her smiling shyly at him from across the table, a dreamy look in her eyes that is conspicuously absent when she looks at Rufus.
Even when Rufus talks into her ear, Charlie has her left hand covering her smile and showing off her ring, kicking at Reeve's foot in a childish way that's endearing. He can't help but smile back at her, wondering how she might look the day of their wedding when he peels back her veil to see him smiling up at her, his Charlotte.
But she isn't the only one looking at him. Charlie and Rufus sit closer to each other than Reeve thinks is really necessary, and whenever Rufus's fingers touch the upper part of her back, or whenever he takes hold of Charlie's hand, his pale eyes fix right on Reeve's face, as if waiting for him to stand up and say something, waiting for him to stand up and say stop!
By the time dessert is brought out to them, much to Charlie's pleasure, Reeve finds himself checking his watch every minute or so, leg bouncing beneath the table impatiently. If they don't leave here soon, it will be too late by the time they get back, and with the day he has ahead of him tomorrow, he needs all the sleep he can get.
"Charlotte, we should be getting back soon. It's getting late, and we have a long flight ahead of us."
Charlie smiles at him, chewing on the straw stuck in her drink. "Okay," she answers coyly, as if it makes no matter whether she stays here or not. Turning to her brother, she adds, "Rufus, are you going to pay for my dinner?"
"You're not leaving already, are you?" he snaps, shooting Reeve a cold and accusing stare. "Surely you can stay the night. I think the company will be more than fine if you're a few hours late to work tomorrow."
"Don't press him, Rufus. Some of us still work, you know," Charlie tells him, and Reeve is glad that she's said it instead of making him say it. "Not all of us can sleep all day and drink up our stores of liquor."
"You've been sneaking into my liquor cabinet, have you?"
"Please," Charlie laughs. "Your passcode is my birthday. You don't really expect to keep me out, do you?"
Rufus takes his sister's hand in his own, bringing to his lips to kiss her knuckles.
"No," Reeve hears himself saying, setting his coffee down and making up his mind the moment Rufus's lips touch Charlie's beautiful skin. Rufus raises his eyebrows, waiting. "We'll stay the night. Just tonight."
Rufus falters, likely not having expected him to give in. However, within moments, there's a smile on his face, and an even bigger smile on Charlie's.
"Oh, really?" she breathes, turning all of her attention away from her brother to lean forward towards Reeve. "You'll stay? Really?"
Against his better judgement, he nods, taking Charlie's hand across the table.
She sighs, face flushed with drink, letting go of her brother. "I do love you."
The walls are thinner than they seem.
Rufus lies in bed, hands clasped behind his head, listening to them.
There's the high-pitched laughter of Charlie stifling a playful scream, followed by the loud shifting of the mattress, words spoken in low voices that he can't quite make out, and finally the rattling of Charlie's headboard, heavy panting like a bitch in heat, the carnal slapping of skin against skin, more laughter and soft moans.
Leave it to Charlie to treat their family beach house like a brothel, just as she had all those years ago, when he had opened up her bedroom door to find both his sister and Reeve naked as the day they were born, sleeping in her childhood bed together. He recalls the rage he had felt upon walking in on that scene, wanting to rip Reeve from his sister's bed by the hair and send the bastard to the Turks to answer for his crimes.
She may not see it as a slight, whoring herself out to their father's employee in their father's old beach house in the bedroom on the other side of the wall, but he's certain that Reeve intended it very much as a slight. Rufus had had his fun at dinner, and now he's paying for it dearly, forced to listen to his sister respond more positively to someone else's touch, to someone else's love.
And then—"Stop!"
Rufus sits up immediately, prepared to burst into her bedroom with his gun drawn, but Charlie only laughs again, and Reeve murmurs something and it makes her laugh louder. It's strange to hear Reeve laughing, something that Rufus thought, for a long time, he was unable to do, but Charlie has always been able to draw out a side of him that others haven't.
"Stop it!" Charlie giggles once more, her voice a bit louder, slightly breathless. ". . . being goofy."
". . . not being goofy . . ." Reeve answers, kissing her. Gods, they're loud kissers. Everything they do is loud. ". . . love when you . . ."
". . . talk too much . . ."
". . . can help with that . . ."
Rufus scowls to the dark ceiling, scowling. He has to leave now, before he hears something really unsavory, before he's forced to hear Reeve proclaim his love loudly for Charlie after she does something particularly filthy to him.
His sister, being used by that soft-hearted bastard. It's not the first time he's thought it, and it certainly won't be the last, but there's no denying the bad taste in his mouth that the idea leaves behind.
Just this morning, she had been asleep on the sofa, dreaming of their mother. And now, in bed with Reeve, letting him put his bastard hands all over her, letting him put other bastard appendages inside of her.
He pictures a little boy running around the beach house, a little boy with blond hair and pale eyes, precocious and gifted, a good-hearted boy lacking the Shinra name while retaining the Shinra look. A little boy with his hair parted off to one side and slicked down, a pointed nose and a father that's involved and anything but distant and resentful.
He drags the backs of his fingers lightly over his guard dog's hairless back.
He wants to go home for good, to take up the mantle and run the company, to spend time with the closest things he has to friends. He wants to take Charlie out to eat, wants to bring her to the theater, wants to escape the suffocating presence that are the girls that work at the tacky gift shop, always dogging his every move the second he leaves the beach house.
The loneliness is killing him, and the house is too big, and he's spent years alone, lying on the warm sand, dreaming about the days when he and Charlie were only children, and all they needed was each other.
One day, Rufus thinks, it could be like that again.
One day.
Charlotte sleeps so softly.
He brushes the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone, murmuring an apology when she stirs, humming quietly.
It was here, in this very room, that everything really began. He had kissed her (she had kissed him) on the sofa, and carried her to the bedroom, the innocent twenty-two-year-old daughter of President Shinra, who had just suffered a bruising defeat with her rocket launch and probably had never been kissed before in her life.
It had been cathartic, beyond satisfaction, kissing her after years of watching her get caught up in whirlwind romances that were always prematurely put to rest by Rufus and his Turks, always meddling, always intervening. And once Charlie would lose her little boy toy, she would go running back to Reeve, allowing him to take her out on a few dates, holding his hand and making quiet suggestive comments, but he never was able to summon the courage to confess he loved her, to kiss her, to touch her.
There had been a dark-haired SOLDIER once, who had caught Charlie's attention after being raised to First Class, but Rufus has been very plain that his sister was off-limits. Reeve had seen them a few times making eyes at each other across the gym, and Charlie hung around the training center a little more often than usual, but after it became known that they had designs on each other, the SOLDIER had been sent to Wutai and never returned.
After the SOLDIER, Charlie had settled on a tall journalist who stuttered and blushed whenever she was within six feet of him, young and inexperienced and fired three months after starting, once it became clear Charlie was interested in him. Reeve doesn't recall ever seeing his face again around Midgar after that.
Reeve recalls there had been an engineer at one point, as well, but nothing had ever happened between them, for the engineer disappeared one day after flirting with Charlie in front of Rufus, and there had been an actor, as well, who brought her backstage after a play in Sector Eight. That had infuriated him so much that he had accidentally let this information slip in front of Reno, who immediately set to work in getting rid of him on Rufus's behalf.
And every so often, when they were younger, long before Charlie hated Reno because of his involvement in getting rid of any man she showed interest in, she would let him flirt casually with her, basking in the attention. He was always happy to oblige her request for affection and attention, in a playful sort of way that seemed to appeal to Charlie.
However, if anything had happened between Charlie and Cid before the failed launch, it remains a mystery to Reeve. In the four and a half years since that day, Charlie has not spoken very much of Cid at all, and he's too much of a coward to broach the subject, afraid of her reaction, afraid of her fury.
For all of her crushes and failed and doomed romances, Reeve couldn't help but worry about Cid. Nothing was ever done to cow him, as he was too important to the Space Exploration Department, and he and Charlie had developed an unnatural friendship that was different from anything else he had ever seen.
The man had absolutely no respect for her, touching her in public and crossing boundaries that would get anyone else killed by Rufus and his friends. He was foul-mouthed and smelled of cigarettes all the time, always walking around the hangar in Junon with his shirt off when he worked on the Highwind, and Charlie had always been watching—discreetly, of course.
Reeve kisses the corner of her mouth, smoothing her hair back with his palm.
"Sleep," she urges him quietly, not bothering to open her eyes.
"Why did you come here, Charlotte?"
She scoffs sleepily, smiling. "I told you, I missed the beach too much."
"It wasn't anything to do with the pilot that still lives in Rocket Town?" he asks, and to his pleasure and great surprise, Charlie's small and tired smile doesn't fade. "Rufus said you arrived crying up a storm."
Charlie shushes him, opening her eyes to look into his face. "Am I not allowed to cry, as a Shinra? You would, too, if you were me, if you saw your rocket again."
"No, it's only . . ." He hesitates, eyes scanning her face. She wouldn't tell him the truth if her life depended on it. Nothing he's ever done has encouraged her to speak of the history between her and the pilot. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I was sleeping so peacefully until a minute ago."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," she tells him, closing her eyes again and placing a hand over his heart, scratching lightly at the skin there, sending chills down his spine. "Just close your eyes and sleep."
Reeve buries his face in her neck, making her laugh. "Yes, Miss Shinra," he teases, which makes her laugh again, this time louder.
"Don't be stupid," she sighs happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and keeping him in place, the front of his body pressed against her own, long after she falls back asleep.