She's left the porch light on and the front door unlocked.
Gods, he hates it when she does that, little things that make it seem like she has little to no regard for her safety. How hard is it to lock the front door?
Then again, she's used to a Turk being with her, doing everything for her, paid well to be completely devoted to her, paid to tie her shoes and zipper her dresses and brush her hair and do everything she never learned to do for herself.
A Turk wouldn't have forgotten to lock the door, at least.
"Charlie?" Reeve calls out, hearing the soft hum of the television carrying from the living room, and he takes care to lock the door behind him. "You've got to lock the door, darling, or else anyone could just come—"
He stops abruptly, listening. Besides the television, the house is still silent. Is she sleeping?
"Charlotte!" he calls again, only for silence to answer once more.
His heart starts to beat a little faster. The front door was unlocked. Had someone come in and taken her? Is someone else here?
Crossing to the living room, he's able to breathe again. Charlie is watching the news, a bottle of expensive scotch on the table, half-empty. The smell hangs heavy in the air, just like the smoke of her father's cigars, and even looking at her through the darkness, her face lit up by the bluish hue of the television, Reeve can tell that she's drunk.
"Charlotte, what are you doing?" he asks warily, lingering in the doorway. There's a soft sniffling, and upon realizing that she might be crying, Reeve turns on the nearest lamp to brighten the room. "What are you doing, my love? What happened?"
Charlie reaches out with the remote, only her profile visible to him, and she turns the television off. When she turns to look at him, Reeve's breath leaves him all at once, taking in the pink bruise on her cheek, the purpling fingertip-shaped bruises around her throat, the dark coloring around her wrists.
"What happened to you?" He takes a step closer to her, reaching out for her, but Charlie turns her face away from him, turning cold. "What's going on?"
"I spoke with Hojo today," she says hoarsely, still not looking at him.
"Hojo? You spoke with Hojo? He was here?"
"Yes, at the beach." Charlotte gets slowly to her feet, swaying slightly before regaining her balance. She turns to look at him fully, and though she's been crying, there's something angry about her, as well. "Did you know?"
This can't be good, whatever Hojo told her. "Did I know what?" His fuse is short tonight after the trip over here, and he's already sounding waspish. Tonight will end in an argument and tears.
"Did you know about Angeal? Did you know the entire time?"
Yes. But he says nothing, running a hand through his hair and sighing. Ever since seeing the sword during the infiltration and bombing of mako reactor five, Charlie has seemed fixated on re-seeking the closure she had never gotten. Reeve half-believed she had forgotten about Angeal, truthfully, just like she had chosen to forget Veld.
Charlie seems to (correctly) take his silence for an answer, her face hardening. When she speaks, she slurs slightly. "You watched me cry for months over him," she cries softly, swiping at the tip of her nose. "And you said nothing."
"Your father and Tseng were of a mind . . ." Reeve hesitates. It's not going to sound good coming out of his mouth. If he were in her position . . . "They believed that if you knew the truth, it may have led you to develop some . . . less than kind opinions of what Shinra Inc. was doing behind the scenes . . ."
"And you just agreed to that?"
"Telling you would have been a death sentence, Charlie," he argues. "If I had told you the truth, you wouldn't have been able to keep that to yourself."
"If it meant your life, I would have kept it to myself," Charlie replies, looking genuinely hurt by that comment. "Do you think your life means so little to me?"
"No, I . . ." Gods, he's done it again, fucked it all up because he can't seem to handle being put on the spot by her. Every little thing that comes from his mouth can be twisted in some bitter way and thrown back in his face. She has an uncanny ability to twist things around sometimes. "I thought it would upset you, to hear the truth—"
"Well, Tseng showed me the classified report, and I am upset—"
Reeve exhales loudly, raising his eyebrows to further impress his point.
"What about Lazard? Did you know Lazard was my half-brother? Is it true?"
Yes. Again, he says nothing for a few moments. What is he supposed to say? "There was talk around the office that . . . there were similarities that could not be ignored . . ."
That's true enough—it mostly was just talk, but there had been truth to some of the rumors, and Scarlet was convinced she knew who the mother was, as well, a former administrative assistant. Reeve has never put much stock in whatever Scarlet has to say, but side-by-side, the similarities had been striking. The "Shinra look" indeed.
"My own bastard brother," she spits, moving closer to him, "given the SOLDIER department to run, while my father's true daughter was given a failing department, a lack of secure funding, and all the beatings I could wish for—"
"Don't pretend you drew the short stick, Charlotte," Reeve hears himself say. He wishes it sounded more confident. Lazard had been decent enough, and while bitterness was a feeling the former director was very familiar with, none of it was displayed towards Charlie. If she hadn't been half so charming, so clever, or so funny, things could have been terribly different. "He may have been given the SOLDIER department, but you were given the last name and the money—"
"Oh, spare me," Charlie sneers. "He was educated, well-spoken and well-dressed, compensated very well . . . I'd say Lazard was lucky enough to have the money, as well."
"The Shinra name holds more power than you know."
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know what kind of power the Shinra name holds? You think I don't know what I could do right now because of it? All I'd have to do is make a single phone call, and anyone I wanted could be dead at my command."
Reeve breathes deeply. It was all bound to happen eventually. Secrets can hardly be kept forever, bound to come out in due time, and he knows that his secrets are damning in their own right. So when is he supposed to confess to his own private role within Shinra? When is he supposed to bring up the fact that he had participated in covered-up assignments by spying, by lying, by doing it all from afar like a coward?
"What else do you know?" she hisses, placing her hands to his chest and shoving him hard. Reeve stumbles, but is able to find his footing after a second. "What else have you been hiding from me all these years? What else have you lied about?"
He wants to say I don't know where to begin, but the words don't come, stuck in his throat. Truthfully, he's harboring nearly a decade's worth of secrets. He had only been trying to preserve a shred of her innocence. He only wanted to keep her happy, to keep from breaking her heart.
"Do you know what happened to Veld?"
Yes. He looks away, ashamed.
"Tell me," she whispers. It is a command, and not a polite one. The cheek that's not marred by a bruise flushes. "I am your vice president. Tell me!"
She's desperate, and there are tears in her eyes.
"That's not how it works here, Charlotte," he protests. It's not the first time she's used this tack, and it surely won't be the last. "Who did that to you? Did Rufus do that to you?"
Charlie frowns, touching her cheek lightly. "It was my fault. I hit him first," she answers, her voice cracking. "He didn't mean it. He was only upset about Father."
Fury burns inside of his chest. It's only been just short of two weeks since her father died, and Rufus has already taken it upon himself to hurt her. And of course she would jump to her brother's defense, just like she always has.
It's the straw that breaks his back—seeing Charlie bruised and battered by the hands of the brother who swears he loves her, trying to convince herself that Rufus hadn't meant to hurt her. With everything that's happened recently, Reeve doesn't know if he's able to take anymore of it. Perhaps this is the way he grieves the death of the late President Shinra, grief finally manifesting into incendiary anger.
"How can you say that!" he shouts, and Charlie's eyes go wide, probably very surprised to hear him yelling. "Charlie, how can you continue to defend him after all he's done to you?"
"After all he's done to me?" Charlie snaps, looking so damned beautiful in her rage. Damn her. "My brother has only ever loved me since we were children—he's been the only one who hasn't made a complete fool of me by leaving—"
"Your brother pays the Turks to micromanage every little thing you do, Charlie," Reeve retorts, heat rising to his cheeks and the back of his neck. "He doesn't love you, he wants to control your entire life. He wants the one thing he can't have, the one thing he's been denied his entire life. He just doesn't want anyone else to have you—"
"So he's protective of me—"
"Protective isn't nearly a strong enough word to describe your brother's feelings towards you—"
"Oh? And what would you call it, then?"
"Belittling? Abusive? Obsessive? Possessive?"
Charlie's jaw twitches, her teeth gritted. She keeps a cool face, even with the tears that leak down her flushed cheeks, but she's furious with him.
Perhaps he shouldn't have yelled at her. He probably shouldn't have said those last four things, either. He knows better than to speak out against her brother.
"Those are bold words from you, Reeve," she tells him, almost sounding level-headed. Maybe she's not as drunk as she seemed at first glance. "I bet you've been waiting a long time to say that, haven't you?"
Reeve hates how he feels so small in front of her. He supposes it must run in the family, the looming and threatening presence, seemingly larger than life, and powerful, always so powerful. She's always been a Shinra in that way.
"You wanted the truth, and there it is," he says, heart beating at a frenzied pace, hammering hard against his chest.
"Well, I'm glad to see that you've finally found the courage to tell the truth after all these years."
Her words are cruel, and she means it to come across that way.
"How long will it take you to tell me everything else? I thought you loved me."
"I do—I love you, Charlotte—"
"Then tell me what you're hiding!"
"It's very complicated," he begins, standing so close to her that he could reach out and place his hands upon her shoulders. Coming here had been a terrible idea.
"You're just like everyone else," she huffs, pouting with her bottom lip. "Keeping secrets for the greater good, to keep me happy, to keep me from knowing the horrible truths about my father's legacy."
"I can assure you, Rufus is no better—"
"I'm not engaged to Rufus," Charlie hisses, crossing her arms.
"He wishes you were, I'm sure."
Something happens—something so quick that he thinks it may have been just a trick of the light. It looks like panic flashing across her face, just like it had when Reeve had questioned her about her first kiss.
"I don't know what you're suggesting," she counters coldly. "I would be very careful about what I said next, if I were you."
It almost sounds like a threat, but the defensive way she suddenly acts is telling. It makes Reeve only feel more nervous, and a little ill. "Can't you see what he's doing to you?" he pleads, lifting a hand to reach for her own, but Charlie slaps it away.
She's quiet for a moment, looking away from him. "Do you know what they call me in the slums?"
"I'm sure we all go by many names in the slums," Reeve answers. "None of them mean anything. They aren't important."
"'Brotherfucker', they call me," Charlie continues carelessly, not amused in the slightest. "And I don't even consider that the worst one."
"It's only talk." Is it?
"Is it so difficult for everyone to believe that my brother could actually, genuinely love me?" she asks, and Reeve shifts awkwardly beneath her hard stare. "He just doesn't know how to show it, that's all."
"Your brother is old enough to know that this—" He gestures wildly at her cheek and throat—"isn't how you show someone you love them."
"That's what he knows. You can thank my father for that."
"He saw what your father did to you, and to your mother, and he's doing it all over again to you, Charlie," he protests. He's never hated Rufus more in his life. The shred of respect he had for the president is now gone, upon seeing the evidence of his "love" for Charlotte. "He tracks your purchases, has access to your phone and travel records, has Turks watching your every move, bugs your phone and our apartment . . . look at what he did to you!"
"He was right, wasn't he?" Charlie scoffs, wiping angrily at her tears. "You're turning me against him."
Reeve can't believe he's hearing this from Charlie's mouth. Then again, she's drunk, probably traumatized after watching her father's murder, and likely brainwashed by her sociopath brother.
"You don't believe that," he whispers, not wanting to seem cold, but wanting to shake sense into her.
"How can I believe you when all you've done is lie to me?"
"Me?" He wants to turn around and leave now, before they say things they don't mean, before they say things they do mean. "You were sneaking around for years with Avalanche—"
"That's different—"
"How is that different? Look at what your secrets caused! Look at what you did—"
Charlie sobs, cutting him off. Her hands jump to cover her face, and she hunches over, shoulders tensing. She's stopped listening to him, crying hoarsely into her hands. His eyes are drawn to her wrists again, and the light bruising around them. It makes him sick to think of what Rufus might have done to her.
Reeve sighs, combing his fingers quickly through his beard. There's no reason for him to be so harsh on her after everything that's happened. "Come here," he rasps, and to his surprise, she does.
She cries against his chest for a minute, pressing herself against him, receptive to soft kisses placed at her hairline. "I don't know what to do anymore," she confesses, wrapping her arms around his middle. "But I don't want to fight with you tonight."
"Good," he murmurs. "I don't want to, either."
He knows it will not be the last time she brings up Angeal, Rufus, or Lazard—he knows that it will likely continue in the morning, and will not end until Charlie squeezes all the information she can from him.
But at least for tonight, he's spared that burden.
Charlie doesn't sleep that night. She pretends to sleep, so as not to throw Reeve off, but once she hears his heavy breathing, she doesn't have to pretend anymore.
He's a heavy enough sleeper that he won't even notice she's gone until he wakes.
She's frightened, of course. If she wasn't at least a little bit frightened, she might think something is horribly wrong with her. But she has to remind herself that it's all for Reeve, it's all for him and to keep him safe, all to keep the both of them alive and well enough to have a future together.
How can she be the vice president of a company that has done such horrible things? A company that has gone to such horrible lengths to cover up information, to feed the people lies, to display propaganda from one side of the world to the other in the hopes of drawing in new victims?
How can she call herself "vice president"? Doesn't that make her complicit in these horrible and unethical practices? She doesn't condone those things, and whatever else Rufus is hiding from her, and she can't, in good conscience, stand up before the people of the world and tell them that Shinra is good, that Shinra cares, that Shinra will bring joy and happiness to the people that naively rely on them.
But if she refuses to go along with it . . . if she refuses to play along with Rufus's grand scheme . . . what will happen then? Will he use Reeve just as her father did? Will he have someone eliminate her so as to eradicate all competition? Will he have a Turk do it? Will he have a Turk turn on her after all these years?
Her trust in them is shaky. Charlie knows they are loyal, not to the company exactly, but to Rufus. But there's a chance, there's a small chance that she could appeal to them, and if there's even the slightest chance of them being able to help her, then she has to take it. She can't let that opportunity pass by.
But she still isn't certain what they might be able to do. She doesn't think there's a chance they'll turn on Rufus, and if they find out that she's been traveling with Avalanche, she'll be a traitor. She doesn't want anyone to die—she doesn't want revenge on Rufus, doesn't want her own brother to die, and she doesn't want Reeve to die.
She's not ready to die, but it means an end to the burden that she's placed on Reeve's shoulders, then so be it.
Charlie inches closer to him, splaying a hand over his heartbeat. Her engagement ring sparkles on her finger, never having been taken off. She always takes it off when she sleeps. How could she have forgotten tonight? Maybe she just wants to wear it for as long as she can.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, kissing his jawline lightly before brushing her lips against his own, so soft that he doesn't even stir. "I never should have dragged you into this." She kisses him again, for her sake. "I love you."
She almost shakes him awake just to hear him say it back, but then she might never leave.
She's able to slip off the bed, and after looking down at his sleeping figure for what feels like hours, Charlie slips the engagement ring off her finger and places it on the nightstand, right on top of his wallet. Her phone sits there, as well, but she's leaving it behind, knowing that it will only make her easier to track.
Her things, that she had packed earlier in the day, have been stored in Rufus's room. Reeve wouldn't dare go in there, so she had felt it was safe enough. She's able to change out of her pajamas and into something a little more practical for travel, listening all the while for the sound of the bed creaking, or some sign that Reeve is awake.
There's a canvas backpack that's stuffed with three outfits (all she could carry and all of them outfits she hasn't worn since the rocket launch), a map and a compass, a water canteen that certainly won't keep full for very long, and she takes the handgun from Rufus's nightstand drawer, along with the extra clip and ammo, loading it and tucking it into the back of her pants.
Lastly, she grabs the bag of gil she had withdrawn earlier. A small withdrawal in Costa del Sol won't alert Rufus to anything out of the ordinary, and the agreed upon amount hadn't been anything extravagant—just enough to keep Cloud and his friends well-stocked with medicine and weapons strong enough to fight any monsters that may find them.
She has to leave the villa knowing that Rufus would never hurt Reeve to try and get her back. If Rufus loves her, and she knows that he does, he would never do anything that would keep Charlie from forgiving him.
Part of her fears that they've already left without her.
The resort town is so quiet this time of night. The only lights come from the flickering street lamps or the neon signs of bars and gift shops that never turn off, and some light spills from the windows of the first floor of the inn. The gentle push and pull of the waves keeps her calm, and the sound of her boots against the cobblestone road seem to echo in her head.
She sweats a little underneath the jacket she's worn. There had been no room for it in her bag, but she thought it might be smart to bring a jacket along.
Just outside of the town, Charlie finds them, just like Aerith had promised.
"As promised," Charlie mutters, dropping the heavy bag of gil into Cloud's open hand. "You'll get the rest after I'm with the Turks."
"Got any weapons on you?" Barret asks roughly, looking her up and down in the moonlight.
"A gun," she admits.
"Search her before she shoots us all!" comes a childish voice from the shadows.
"Put your hands on me and I'll have you all killed."
"What about recording devices? Bugs? Trackers?"
"No, none of those," Charlie answers again. "I don't even have my phone."
"Do you realize what you're getting yourself into?" Cloud asks, passing the money off to Barret, who tucks it into a pocket of his vest, patting it gently as if it's very precious to him. He looks like he's never seen twenty-thousand gil in his life.
"Yes," Charlie answers, looking around at them all. She knows all of their names now, and knows that most of them resent her in some way, faulting her for the actions of her father. "Let's go, before I change my mind."
"You ain't gettin' your deposit back if you chicken out now, Shinra," Barret growls, gesturing with his head towards the open road.
Tifa is the first to follow, and then Yuffie and Red. Cloud adjusts the Buster Sword at his back before going after them, leaving only Aerith behind to stand with Charlie.
It had only been Cloud and Aerith to meet with her, to give her the opportunity to explain her side of the events that had preceded the plate dropping, telling them about Pia and Jessie and the bombs, telling them about how her own father had ordered a gun held to Reeve's head, how she had planned to help Aerith the night Sephiroth came.
And Charlie had told them what Rufus had done to her, showed off the bruises that she had tried so hard to hide earlier in the day, warning them that it would only escalate from there.
She doesn't know if Cloud has communicated that to anyone else, however.
"You okay?" Aerith asks gently.
Charlie nods. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just . . . need a second, that's all."
Aerith takes the hint, trailing after Cloud as they grow further and further away from Charlie and Costa del Sol, making their journey down the wide country road that will lead them, hopefully, to the Turks and to Sephiroth.
She turns back towards the town one last time. If she walks away now, Reeve might never want her again, but at least Rufus would be content with that knowledge. She never should have involved Reeve in any of this, never should have encouraged it, never should have willingly dragged him in the middle of her dysfunctional family and all of their problems.
Leaving now is leaving behind all the memories she has of this place, of the time spent in the villa, of the time spent at the beach. It's walking away from the memories of people who loved her, who cared for her, who comforted her.
If she leaves now, she might never be able to come back.
Charlie blinks up at the stars, trying to hold back the tears that are brimming. They're out in full force tonight, a beautiful and sparkling sky compared to the one above Midgar.
Today had been too much at once. The past few days, the past few weeks . . . it's all been too much, too much happening too fast, and Charlie finds herself wondering if Angeal is up there, watching her from the stars, from the heavens.
The closure had been nice, if not unexpected and heartbreaking. And to learn of a half-brother that had never once treated her unkindly had been something difficult to digest. Could they have been family if she knew?
Family. A funny word. A word that doesn't really mean what she thought it used to mean.
Maybe, on her journey to the last of her family, she might find something along the way to point her in the direction of her mother. It's something she hadn't considered until now, looking up at the stars.
Maybe she's somewhere on the western continent, looking up at the same sky, wondering what her children are doing. Charlie can't believe that she's dead. She refuses to believe it. There might still be hope.
Yes, she thinks, it would be nice to have some closure there, too.
He's cold when he wakes, and slightly confused.
He's so used to waking to Charlie's exploratory and teasing touches, to her lips pressing soft kisses to his face and neck, that it feels disorienting to wake without it.
"Charlie?" he moans, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. She doesn't answer, and Reeve opens his eyes to look at her, only to find that her side of the bed is empty. He sits up quickly, looking around the bedroom. "Charlotte!"
He reaches for his watch on the nightstand, his entire body freezing just before he picks it up, the breath all leaving him at once, his stomach feeling like he's just been sucker punched.
Her engagement ring rests upon his wallet.
"What is it? I'm on my way to you right now."
"My apologies, sir, for the interruption, but I thought you might be interested in a rather desperate phone call I just received from Director Tuesti."
Rufus frowns, jostled around in the backseat of a truck driven by two masked guards. Reeve certainly hadn't called him. "What do you mean?"
"It seems he woke this morning to find your sister missing."
"Missing?" Rufus repeats, hardly able to believe it. He's not so surprised that Charlie had called Reeve to come to Costa del Sol. He had expected it. "Has he checked the town? Has he made sure she's not in Midgar? I told her to return there this morning. I'm certain she's still on her way."
"I've already made the appropriate calls, sir," Tseng replies, and there's a note of panic in his voice that throws Rufus off guard. "No one has seen her in Costa del Sol, and there are no incoming flights to Midgar this morning, especially not a flight with the vice president on it."
Tseng's panic makes him panic. Had something happened to Charlie? Had Avalanche gotten hold of her? Wouldn't he have received some kind of ransom note by now if that were the case?
"If it means anything to you, sir, the director had mentioned she left behind both her engagement ring and her phone."
Rufus thinks hard, stroking his pointed chin. Charlie loves that damned engagement ring, and would never leave it behind for anything, but why would she leave her phone behind? Is it possible that her disappearance had been planned? If she knew her phone was bugged and traceable, of course she would leave it behind if she had every intention of not being found.
But to leave her ring behind, to break off the engagement that Rufus has resented for months now . . . while the thought is elating, he can't help but worry. What reasons would Charlie have to call off her engagement? Only last night she had begged for his life, begged for his safety.
He still feels a little bad about the beating he'd given her, but Charlie deserved it. She was out of line, and she needed to be punished. She knows he still loves her—she had still kissed him before he left, chaste and quick on his mouth, something she doesn't like to do anymore.
"Sir?" comes Tseng's voice again. Rufus doesn't know how long he's been quiet. "I could always send Reno and Rude to find her."
"Not yourself?" Rufus hisses, surprised that Tseng hadn't volunteered himself outright for the job. "Why wouldn't Reeve have called to tell me himself? Why wouldn't he tell me that my own sister was missing? No, nevermind, don't answer that. I know why he wouldn't call me."
"I have a few SOLDIERs on standby that I intended to send to Rocket Town, with your permission," Tseng continues, and Rufus has to admit that he's impressed that Rocket Town would be one of the first places he would check for her. It's a stretch, but very plausible that Charlie had been in contact with Cid. "But the news of her disappearance has not been made public."
"She'll be found quicker if we have the entire world looking for her," Rufus says, looking out the tinted window of the truck. He's not quite sure how far he is from Corel, but the land is becoming far less green the more they drive. "And she'll come back even faster if she knows Reeve's life is on the line."
"She will never forgive you if you do that."
"Don't I know it," he mumbles to himself. "I know where she is. Avalanche was on the ship to Costa del Sol. I know that she had something to do with it, and I'm certain they have something to do with her disappearance."
Tseng is quiet for a moment. "Have our orders changed, sir?"
Rufus chews on his lower lip. Tseng's anxious to know if he has permission to follow Charlie, he's sure, but Rufus can't figure it out. Why would Charlie up and leave everything behind for a chance to gallivant around the world with Avalanche? Why would she leave Reeve behind? Surely not for revenge? Not for a chance to get even with Sephiroth?
There's no denying that Rufus is curious as to how this all might play out. "No," he says, wondering how Charlie might have convinced Avalanche to bring her along. What lies has she been spreading? What information did she give them? "I have a better idea."
"Sir?"
"I think I need to return to Midgar, immediately," he tells Tseng suddenly, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his face. "Continue after Sephiroth for now. I'll take care of Charlie." Rufus hangs up the call, tapping the side of the chair to alert the driver. "Turn us around and pick up the pace. I'm needed in Midgar."
"Yes, sir, right away, Mr. President."
Rufus smiles again at the sound of it. Mr. President. He quickly dials another number, holding the phone up to his ear.
"Mr. President."
"Reeve," he sighs happily, glad to hear the stiffness in Reeve's voice. He's afraid of punishment or consequences. Or perhaps he's afraid for Charlie. "Tseng just told me the news. Slipped right out from under your nose, didn't she?"
Reeve doesn't have an answer for him.
"Listen, I'm on my way back to Midgar now. I should only be a few hours," he presses on, shaking his sleeve back to glance down at his watch. It's still early. "Why don't you and I meet for a late lunch? My treat. I have a new job I want to discuss with you."
"A new job?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" Rufus snaps, already irritated with him. "Meet me in my office at two o'clock this afternoon. I don't care how many meetings you need to reschedule. This takes priority."
"Yes, sir."
"And don't worry." Rufus tries his best to be charming, but he's sure it only comes across as sarcastic and cruel. He knows that Reeve doesn't trust him, especially if Charlie had confided in him what happened last night. "I'm not going to have you killed today."