"You know, Reeve, I've heard there's plenty of good-looking girls at the Honey Bee Inn. You might even be able to find someone that looks like Char. I think it's actually the speciality of a few girls on the plate."

"No, thank you," he replies flatly, turning his chair slightly away from Scarlet and shuffling the papers in his hands.

"Too good for prostitutes, are you?"

He blushes furiously, ignoring Heidegger's snickering. "I'm engaged to Charlotte."

More snickers, and this time, Palmer joins them, as well. His foot is still in a cast, or else Reeve doesn't know that he could stop himself from leaping across the table to brutally beat him. His fingers curl into fists atop the conference table.

"I've heard some people say I even look like Char," Scarlet remarks, examining her long nails critically. "What do you think, Reeve?"

"I think you look nothing like her," Reeve replies, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. He had been under the assumption that it would just be he and Rufus for today's meeting. "And if I had any interest in visiting the Honey Bee Inn, I'd simply ask Palmer, who I hear visits that establishment very regularly."

Palmer flushes bright red, mopping his forehead with a soiled-looking handkerchief. "It's a very clean establishment, I'll have you know, and very respectable."

"I'm sure that cast of yours earns you some extra sympathy," Heidegger chuckles gruffly, making Scarlet titter behind her fingers. His face is still badly bruised from the beating he received from Rufus in Junon. "It must be a real change to have ladies chasing you instead of the other way around, Palmer."

"You seem a bit touchy," Scarlet continues, reaching out slowly across the table to touch Reeve's arm. He jerks away before her fingertips can brush the fabric of his suit jacket. "I've never known you to rise to the bait, Director."

He sighs, but that doesn't stop Scarlet from touching the papers he has spread around him.

"It's a shame Char isn't here, truly," she says, scrunching her nose and scowling. With a flick of her neck, the hair falling into her eye is pushed out of her face. "I've been meaning to discuss with her the new budget she's cut for my department."

"The war is over. Weapons development isn't a priority," Reeve tells her. "The president approved the budget. If it's such an issue, why don't you take it up with him?"

"Char could draft a plan to shut down the entire company, and the president would put his name on it if she batted her eyelashes at him."

Reeve looks sideways at Scarlet. "She's your vice president now. President Shinra may not take kindly to outward displays of disrespect."

"You've not forgotten what happened to me?" Palmer pipes up, trying to lift his foot so it's visible over the polished table.

"You might have bigger problems in the near future, Palmer," Scarlet purrs, looking positively delighted that there's someone else for her to verbally abuse while they wait on the president. "What are the chances that Char replaces you with that rugged pilot she fell in love with?"

Palmer scoffs, but looks nervous regardless. Reeve tries to look unaffected by this, certainly a jab meant just as much for him as it's meant for Palmer. "President Shinra would never allow it," he protests weakly. "He would never allow such gutter trash to walk the halls of us executives!"

"I heard that Turk sent some SOLDIERs to Rocket Town," she says again, smiling maliciously at Heidegger across from her. "What would you say the chances are that Captain Highwind has any information on our president's sweet, lovely, beautiful, perfect sister?"

Heidegger laughs roughly again. It's an accurate depiction of Rufus, but Reeve isn't in the mood to laugh, even at Charlie's brother.

"If you want to know my opinion," Scarlet giggles, and Reeve doesn't really want to know her opinion at all, but he remains quiet, "I don't think Char would waste her time going all the way to Rocket Town for a new man, not when there's one already skulking around the western continent."

Reeve hesitates, mulling over Scarlet's words for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Scarlet scoffs mockingly. "Don't be an idiot, Reeve, you know exactly who I mean."

He looks at her for a long time, trying to figure out if she's being serious or not. "You mean Tseng?" he asks again. "You think she went after Tseng?"

"Why not? Does that surprise you?" Scarlet shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, propping her head up with her elbow. "Char seeking out safety with a man who worships the very ground she walks on? He's the closest thing to family she has left, besides her brother."

"Well, okay," Reeve stammers, giving his head a shake as heat rises to his cheeks. "I think that's a bit of an overstatement."

"Not that it matters. She'll be back eventually, I'm sure, of her own free will," Scarlet sighs, waving a flippant hand in his direction. "She's never been able to stay away from her brother for long. But don't worry. I'm sure she misses you, as well."

Reeve doesn't think it's quite fair that Charlie might still miss Rufus, that she might return for Rufus, despite what he's done to her. But when has life ever been fair for him?

"I can see why it's so difficult for her, of course . . . he's a very handsome boy, and the most desirable bachelor in the world." Scarlet laughs again, but Reeve tunes her out, until he hears the next words that leave her mouth. "You wouldn't remember, of course, but there were rumors . . . disgusting rumors about Char and her brother that were floating around the top floors for years."

"I'm sure the president would rather those rumors not be repeated," Reeve says firmly, unsure of where to look. Anywhere but at Scarlet, because he's certain that she'll be able to see the desire for knowledge in his expression. "You should be careful about what you say now."

Scarlet shows no signs of stopping. She's never known the meaning of the word 'stop'. "Truly, Reeve, I applaud you. Not every man would be so willing to marry the current president's sloppy seconds."

Reeve's neck almost cracks with the speed that he turns his head. "Excuse me?"

"Oh . . . it must have been ten or so years ago now, isn't that right, Heidegger?" she hums, furrowing her eyebrows together to appear thoughtful. Heidegger grunts, looking away from them. "She can't have been older than sixteen . . . that was when their father caught them fooling around, or so people have said."

"It's just a rumor," Reeve says hoarsely, adjusting the papers in front of him. That would have been before he had been given a nice office on a keycard level, when most of his job consisted of traveling the globe in search of places to build reactors. "You shouldn't take stock in such filthy gossip."

"Oh? Has she refuted it?"

"She claims it was innocent."

"Char is a dirty liar, and she always has been," Scarlet snaps abruptly, scowling. "You're a fool if you believe one word out of her mouth. She's been lying so long, I think she's even convinced herself of some things. After all . . ." She leans in close, close enough that Reeve can smell her perfume. "She convinced herself that she loved you, didn't she?"

Reeve doesn't get the chance to answer. The double doors to the conference room open quickly, and Rufus strolls in with two guards flanking him. Reeve still isn't used to not seeing at least one Turk around him at all times.

"Let's make this quick," he says, almost coldly. Is it possible he heard what was being spoken of? "And then I want to speak with you privately, Director Tuesti."

"Yes, sir," Reeve replies, pushing his paperwork towards Rufus, glad for a distraction, and wishing Charlie were here. "These are the names of all citizens still reported missing. I thought—"

"Do whatever you want, so long as it yields results. I'm more interested in the status of mako reactor one."

"Yes, Mr. President. I have the report there, as well."

Rufus scoffs loudly, childishly, and picks up the report, glancing about at his executives. "At least someone in this room is capable."

Scarlet's cheeks redden with anger, Heidegger grits his teeth, and Palmer blanches.

Reeve watches Rufus's eyes scan the report almost lazily, the tip of his index finger brushing back and forth across his bottom lip in the same way Charlie might.

He's just a boy, he can't help but think. If I had tried to help him as much as I helped Charlie, would he still be so severe, so waspish, so aggressive?

After all, it was a desire to help Charlie that led to where they are now. She was only a young girl so obviously neglected despite the shallow attention bestowed upon her by the Turks, eager to escape the clutches of her father and the fate he had in store for her—which is really no different from how her future had turned out.

Married to a Shinra executive, birthing a son to become the next heir of the company, living out a comfortable life at the expense of her freedom.

Had she ever wanted this? She wanted him, but did she ever think of what that would entail down the line?

No, Reeve thinks. Charlie never thinks about consequences to her actions, never thinks about the future, never thinks about the end goal.

She hadn't even understood the way a relationship was supposed to work when they first became involved. She would disappear for days without a word, was uncomfortable sharing personal things with him, used sex as a way to avoid talking about things, and despite Reeve being older and far more mature than Charlie, there was a definite power imbalance that took her a long time to adapt to.

After all, her father had been the most powerful man in the world.

But he had been patient, and he had taken whatever anger she needed to get out, and he had helped her through things she had never done before and spoke words of love to her than no one else ever thought to say.

All of that effort, all of that time he spent trying to make life a little less difficult for her, now wasted, and Charlie hadn't even bothered to leave a note.

"Reeve?"

He blinks, blushing upon realizing the president is looking right at him. "Sorry?"

Rufus purses his lips and sets the reports back on the table. "My sister was right. I can see I've been overworking you," the president says. "Why don't you take a few days off?"

"Oh, that's very generous, sir, I couldn't possibly—"

"President's orders, Director, and I won't hear another word against it," Rufus interrupts, tapping the table with his knuckles. "Now, I've been told that some of you are unhappy about the latest budget cuts. I would hear your complaints now, but I make no promises about how I'll respond, so I would tread carefully, if I were you."

Reeve glances furtively at Scarlet. For all her talk, she doesn't look eager to bring up her grievances in front of Rufus.

"No one?" Rufus frowns, looking around. "Cat got your tongue, Scarlet?"

The meeting is quick, and when Rufus dismisses Palmer, Heidegger, and Scarlet, Reeve finds his heart picking up the pace again.

Rufus sends his guards away, as well, urging them to stand outside the door to give them privacy. That makes Reeve's heart beat faster.

"You know . . ." Rufus begins, his eyes slightly glazed over as he watches the closed door. "Whenever Charlie would get upset about the presidency, I used to tell her something. 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown.' It was in a book our mother used to read to us."

Reeve considers him. "Are you all right, Mr. President?"

Rufus laughs, chuckling very warmly.

"What's so funny, sir?"

"Nothing, it's just . . ." Rufus exhales softly, shaking his head. "You and Charlie are the only ones who've bothered to ask."

He feels he's being put in a very awkward situation. He will never be able to escape Shinra now. He can either fight against it, or try to mend the broken trust between him and the president in the hopes that things could be better.

Inhaling deeply, Reeve rasps, "Rufus."

Rufus's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, eyes wide with surprise. But the president is not jumping over the table to strangle him, nor is he giving him a vicious and brutal scolding. "What is it?" Rufus asks impatiently after a moment.

"I think Charlie is going to Tseng."

For a horrible minute, Reeve thinks he may have been too bold. Rufus looks angry, disappointed, angry again, disappointed once more, and then settles on an expression that reminds him of Charlie, lost in thought. "Why would she do that?"

Reeve almost feels sorry for him. He doesn't want to overstep, to say too much, but how can Rufus not understand why Charlie would want to get away from him? "I think that . . . you have put your sister in a very difficult position," he begins slowly, trying to watch Rufus's reaction closely.

Rufus bites down on his lower lip, resting both of his elbows on the table. "Well?" he urges. "What difficult position do you suppose I've put Charlie in? I've been good to her. I've been here for her. I've loved her. I've done everything she's asked of me." His gaze never falters. "Go on, you can be honest."

He can't find it in himself to tell the president that he shouldn't have hit Charlie. There are several things he wishes he could say, but none of them make it past the lump in his throat. He's too afraid that Charlie's disappearance has put Rufus on edge, and he's too afraid that one wrong word will send Rufus into a blind fury.

Reeve clears his throat, but doesn't answer.

"Why do you even want to marry my sister?" Rufus asks again, clearly more upset with Reeve's lack of an answer.

He opens his mouth to answer, shrugging his shoulders in a defeated sort of way. "I love her," he admits. He isn't going to discuss it in minute detail with her brother. "I love your sister very much."

"It's hard work, you know."

Reeve smiles weakly. "It's hard work, but certainly not unrewarding work."

Rufus looks at him for a long time, his jaw clenched, his eyes closing for a moment. He looks exhausted up close, his skin paler, almost gray. "How is everything with our feline friend?"

"Still waiting on Avalanche to arrive, sir. Should I alert the staff that Charlie may be arriving with them?"

"No," Rufus replies. "I don't want criminals-turned-bounty-hunters searching for my sister, hoping for a reward. That will only lead to real kidnapping attempts. I don't want her harmed, and I don't want any trouble."

"Yes, sir."

Rufus pushes himself to his feet. "Then I think we're done here. Enjoy your brief vacation, Director."

"For what it's worth," Reeve says again, standing with the president and buttoning his suit jacket with one deft hand, "I think you're doing a wonderful job. You've inherited a fine mess from your father, but I appreciate your willingness to fix it."

Rufus looks skeptical, eyebrows knitting together. He curls one hand around the back of his chair. "Are you coming onto me?"

"What? No, I was—I was only trying to give you a compliment and my honest opinion, Mr. President."

A flush creeps up the back of Rufus's pale neck and he stiffens, lowering his hand to his side. "Forgive me," he mutters. "Thank you for your support, Director." He inclines his head awkwardly, a polite and silent farewell instead of some nasty threat. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing a fine job, as well."

Charlie isn't out of shape. In fact, she thinks she's relatively in shape.

She and Reeve, when they used to have the time to spare, would spend most of their evenings in the company gym (though Charlie had spent most of her time there openly admiring Reeve whenever he lifted enough weight to make his biceps strain), and she used to run a lot when she was younger, through the streets of Costa del Sol with a Turk trailing a few feet behind, sweating in their dark suit.

But Mount Corel is not the flat streets of Costa del Sol, nor is it a treadmill in the Shinra Building.

The sun, while not bestowing upon them the blazing heat of the coastal tourist attraction, shines down on them all morning and all afternoon. The mountains are bare, and Charlie knows there's a mako reactor nearby that likely is the cause of that. It gives them no shelter from the sun or heat, and it means they all move a little slower and are forced to ration their water as best they can without going too thirsty.

They're all sweating before noon, Yuffie complains loudly, and Red is panting heavily. He thanks Charlie when she spares some of her cool water to drip onto his muzzle. She'll be thirsty, but she's sure Aerith will share with her if she becomes completely dehydrated.

It's the first time Red has thanked her for anything, and a few minutes afterwards, his teeth clamp down hard on the back of her shirt to pull her to safety as she missteps and nearly plunges down the side of the mountain to her death.

"Charlie! Are you okay?" Aerith is at her side in an instant, kneeling down to where Charlie sits on the dirt mountain path.

"Yeah," Charlie breathes, pushing herself to her feet. Her gun has been dislodged in the confusion. She turns around to find it, but Barret is already stooping awkwardly to pick it up. It looks tiny in his hands.

"Dropped somethin'," he says, holding it out for her. "You ain't got a holster for it?"

"No," she answers quickly, glancing into his eyes before swiping the gun from his outstretched hand. "Thank you."

"Here." Barret unbuckles something wrapped around his thick waist, moving closer to her. Charlie attempts to back away, but he gives her an incredulous look and she has the grace to blush. "Your gun should fit in here, but the belt itself's gonna be a little big. You ain't half the glutton your daddy was."

Charlie holds her hands up as Barret helps buckle the holster around her waist. He pulls extra tight, tight enough to make her yelp. "It's not a corset," she hisses. "Easy."

When Barret steps back to admire his handiwork, he laughs loudly. "Not gonna lie, it feels pretty good to see you so stressed out, Shinra."

She looks down at herself. The belt is three times too big for her, and drapes awkwardly down her side. A small smile creeps onto her face without warning, and she looks around and everything smiling at the ridiculous sight. Even Cloud is smiling. Even Red.

It's the first time she's smiled since they left Costa del Sol. "It's not polite to stare," she chastises them all, adjusting the bag on her back and holstering her gun.

"We got a smile out of you, at least," Tifa teases, leading the way up the trail.

Nestled into the barren mountainside a few miles further onward is the reactor, an older model. This one looks to be falling in disrepair, not quite as cared for as the ones in Midgar. The land is dry and crumbles underneath their feet, and flying monsters swoop at them until Barret shoots them from the sky.

"This was one of the first mako reactors Shinra built. Reeve used to tell me it used to be green here," Charlie tells them all as they walk slowly over a rickety bridge that will lead them towards the other side of Mount Corel. The smell of mako is strong here. "There was an explosion a few years ago, but it looks like they've hardly tried to fix it."

"What happened to it? Malfunction?" Cloud asks.

"Some rebel townspeople from Corel attacked the reactor and—"

"The townspeople!" Barret suddenly shouts, making Charlie jump. "Don't make me laugh. Shouldn't've let myself forget you're a Shinra."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie scoffs, turning around to face Barret, walking backwards as her feet touch solid ground again. "How would you know anything about the Corel reactor? That's classified Shinra information."

"What would I know 'bout Corel?" Barret yells at her, holding his gun arm up to the sky, preparing to shoot. It's hard to discern how angry he really is with his sunglasses on, unable to see his eyes, but judging by his voice, he's furious. "You're right, Shinra, you're right—I dunno shit 'bout Corel! You know everything! Chief fuckin' Liar is gonna preach to us 'bout Corel!" He growls at the open sky. "Let's just keep movin', y'all. The closer we get to the other side of this mountain, the less time we gotta spend in the company of some Shinra brat."

He runs off without another word, leaving Charlie bewildered, as well as the rest of his friends. "Did I . . . say something?" she asks desperately, but no one has any answers for her, and they're forced to press on quickly in order to keep up with Barret.

They make camp just below the peak of Mount Corel, on the other side of the mountain. It rains that night, but Charlie is able to find shelter underneath an overhang that keeps most of the rain off her.

The Gold Saucer is near here. If she can get to the Gold Saucer, she'll be safe there, and she'll be able to use a phone to contact Tseng, and then she'll be safer, among friends, among family.

And what happens then? Charlie still hasn't given it much thought. The Turks will bring her home, where she'll be watched so closely that she'll never have the chance to leave the city or be alone again. She should have at least formed a plan before taking off.

She couldn't help herself. She was terrified of facing Reeve in the morning and hearing his confessions (if he even was going to tell her anything at all). She was terrified of confessing to him, of telling him about the things she had done to find comfort in her childhood.

She was terrified of facing Rufus again, afraid that she would be unable to stay mad at him. She was afraid of falling back into familiar patterns and not being able to help herself.

Charlie lifts her head from the backpack she uses as a pillow. Pulling a flashlight out from a side pocket and holding it between her teeth, she digs around in the hidden pockets for two photographs.

The rain comes down hard, slapping against the rockface and muffling the distant, growling thunder that accompanies it. Some of it splashes back onto her face, but it's welcome after a long day of mountain climbing, and even though it's freezing, she isn't about to look a gift chocobo in the mouth.

The one picture she's brought with her is one she's been carrying around since she found it, the family photo that she had found in her father's desk drawer. She wonders if it might be a good idea to show her mother's picture to some backwater villagers. It might be that she had wanted to hide from Shinra's influence, and maybe someone had seen her along the way.

The second picture is one she'd stolen from the top of Rufus's dresser in his bedroom at the villa. It had just been lying there, handled recently due to the lack of dust on it, and it had been too sweet to leave behind.

It's an old picture, one of Charlie and Rufus older than six, but certainly no older than ten. It must have been taken before their mother left because their father would never have taken such a picture.

The two of them are sleeping in the back of a car, still in their swimsuits with towels wrapped around their shoulders, their hair wet and their fingers twined together at their sides. Held slightly upright by their seatbelts, Charlie and Rufus are leaning against one another, his little head resting on her shoulder and Charlie's cheek upon the top of his head.

How could a boy so sweet and so loving become someone so cold and so callous and unaffected?

When did she start becoming afraid of her brother? Had he always been this way? Always complaining that no one loved him like they loved Charlie, but refusing to let anyone in, refusing to lower his walls to anyone but Charlie.

Was Reeve right the whole time about her brother?

No, she thinks, what does Reeve know about Rufus?

How could she leave Rufus to his own devices without so much as a real friend to be there for him? He needs her, just as much as she needs him. She knows that he's still Rufus, her sweet little brother, starved for affection and love, the death of their father genuinely hurting him.

Her father did that to him. Her father did everything, caused everything, hurt people and took lives.

The rain muffles not just the thunder that night, but her sobs.

"Dinner, D."

Dark Nation slinks over to the kitchen, heading for the scraps of meat that have been in the fridge for days. Rufus watches him eat, scooping rice out of a takeout box from before his departure to Junon. It's not good, but he can't cook and his cabinets are still empty.

He thought he would appreciate being back in Midgar, but it feels just like being in Costa del Sol all over again. Charlie's missing, Reeve is afraid of him, all the Turks are halfway across the world, and his other executives are likely already plotting against him.

He's never had the luxury of friends. A few Turks had attempted, over the years, to chip down the walls he's built around him, but none had actually succeeded. They had all been too enamored with Charlie's wit and genius and beauty to ever put forward the same amount of effort towards him.

They were all so patronizing, always asking questions, always wondering why he preferred solitude, always trying to encourage him to open up, to be more like Charlie. Tseng had come the closest, but every time Rufus felt himself slipping, felt himself becoming vulnerable, he would close up all over again and they would be back to square one.

Charlie had fooled them all, had spouted lies to cover her true feelings, tricking them with smiles and laughter to hide how she was really feeling. The only person who ever knew how she really felt was him, and those confessions had never come cheap, always following whatever comfort he was able to give her.

Part of him worries that he'll never see Charlie again. She's not a fighter, and Rufus isn't certain that she's able to properly use a gun (that had been her own fault, never willing to learn). If faced with a group of monsters, it's likely that they'll literally eat her alive.

And if she is with Avalanche, he doesn't think it very likely they're going to work hard to keep her alive.

Could Reeve have been onto something when he suggested Charlie might be running to Tseng?

With his mouth still tasting of hard, old rice, Rufus sits down on the sofa in the living room, turning on the television, only to be greeted with a picture of himself and Charlie in Junon, just before the inauguration parade.

How could someone so beautiful and so radiant possibly be so sad? Was Charlie really so unhappy with her life that she thought this the best course of action? Was it Reeve that made her so unhappy? Was it Cid? Rocket Town had changed her, had seemed to warp her perspective of Shinra Inc. a little more than before.

And then, a horrible thought occurs to him. Was it me? Did I do this?

All right, he'll admit he shouldn't have hit her, but she made him so damn angry that he couldn't help himself. He had only intended to slap her around a few times. He hadn't meant for it to go so far, but when he slipped the belt off around his waist, he felt like a man possessed.

And he had seen the fear in her eyes when he initially reached for his belt. She was terrified of him at that moment, afraid of what he might do to her. She thought he was finally going to take what she's been denying him all these years, and to see horror flash across her face and to see her knees clamp shut at the mere thought of it was enough to send him over the edge.

How could she think that he would be anything other than gentle? How could Charlie think that he wouldn't adhere to her every wish, that he wouldn't take care of her, that he wouldn't see to it that she never felt so loved in her life?

Tseng had recommended that he find a girlfriend to keep the other executives from talking. Not only would it keep his mind preoccupied from intrusive thoughts about his own sister, but it would project a positive image of himself to the people of the world, who might see Rufus's settling down as something to look forward to.

It's not like Rufus disagrees, but he doesn't have the time or energy to devote to a woman right now. He doesn't have the time to work at establishing a deep and meaningful relationship with someone else, and he doesn't really want to. No one else could ever understand, and he's not about to tell some stranger everything about his life, only for them to turn around and laugh at him.

Tseng has known for years, of course, ever since walking into the villa at Costa del Sol to find himself and Charlie on the sofa of the living room, joined at the mouth and one of his hands up her shirt. None of them had spoken about it, and things had moved on as normal. Rufus had always been slightly fearful that Tseng might use it against him at some point, but it was never mentioned again. That was probably for the best.

And now the two of them, the two people who have cared about him most, are going to probably start plotting the downfall of President Rufus Shinra. Why else would Charlie go to him?

What is he supposed to do about that? How is that fair?

If he does something to Charlotte, he'll turn Tseng against him. If he does something to Tseng, he'll turn Charlotte against him. Not that he wants to hurt either of them, but he has to keep them in line.

Father would have held Reeve hostage, he thinks bitterly. But Reeve is far too valuable to him now, and the only potential ally he really has remaining to him with any power at all.

I thought I would feel better, he tells himself. I thought I would be happier.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was going to be the best president Shinra Incorporated would ever see, better than his father by far. He was going to create an empire beyond the scope of his own dead father. He thought Charlie would give up her Avalanche dreams now that their father is gone. After all, Rufus had gone through his own rebellious phase. He had run around with Avalanche for a little while, back when he was young. He thought Charlie might grow out of that.

He thought Charlie might love him again without anyone to keep them apart.

I wanted to do it with Charlie as my vice president, he can't help but think. I wanted to do it with Tseng. I wanted it to be the three of us.

The truth is, Rufus has been away from Midgar for too long. In the years that he's been gone, Charlie has found other friends, other people who love and care about her. He envies her, envies the way people aren't afraid to be so open and friendly with her. He doesn't think he's ever heard the Turks refer to him as anything other than "sir" or "Mr. President" or "Mr. Vice President".

Yet Reeve had called him by his first name today. Rufus hadn't expected something so bold from him, but it was not unwelcome.

The compliment had caught him off guard, however. Compliments were always reserved for Charlie.

"Stop it," he quietly chastises his overgrown mutt, nudging his jaw away with his foot. "Go away. I want to be alone right now."

Rufus watches Dark Nation saunter off.

He doesn't know why he's sent his dog away. The last thing he wants right now is to be alone. He's getting tired of that.

It's the first time he's been in Rocket Town since the day of the failed launch.

He shouldn't be here, but with the hunt for Sephiroth bringing them further west, he figured Rocket Town wasn't too out of the way. Besides, he has a promise he needs to make good on, and not checking Rocket Town would be an oversight only a rookie would make.

Reno and Rude had understood, as he knew they would. Reno had even offered to join him, but Tseng needed the other Turks to pick up his slack, despite knowing it was something he shouldn't have asked of them. Elena was a bit more hesitant about giving her approval, but it's not like her approval was even really necessary, and she had vocalized her desire to see Charlotte safe in the end.

The town is quiet when he makes his way into the plaza, smoothing his hair back in the face of the wintry breeze. Perhaps the citizens had all locked themselves away upon hearing the several Shinra helicopters coming to land just outside the town.

Looming over the buildings that make up the town is the crooked figure of Shinra No. 26, Charlotte's pride and joy. It was all she talked about for months, and then her ramblings had been focused more on Cid, and when she would catch herself talking about the pilot, she would blush and quickly move on to another subject.

He had been sorry to see the launch fail. Charlotte had walked around with a heavy heart for months afterwards, and he could never find the proper words of sympathy to say to her. Nothing seemed sincere enough, and he chose to say nothing rather than say something insincere that might have upset her more.

Tseng still remembers the long flight back to Junon with the captain. He had grumbled to himself the entire time, fidgeting around all the while. When Tseng had told him, halfway through their trip, "Miss Shinra has ordered me to hear your complaints. I don't know how you expect me to hear anything with all you mumbling," Cid had given him an earful.

"Well, you can tell Miss Shinra that I only got one damn thing to say to her," he had hissed, and there had been fearlessness in his eyes. "She's gotta get that fuckin' stick outta her ass if—"

Something in him had snapped then. Within seconds, Tseng found himself kneeling on the captain's chest, his left hand pinning his throat to the metal flooring of the helicopter while his right hand rained blow after blow into the side of the captain's head.

He hopes today doesn't inspire that same brutality. He would hate for it to end a bloody mess, and he would hate for Charlotte to find out that he'd done something to someone she cared about.

"It's this one," he tells the SOLDIERs lazily, gesturing with his chin towards the front door of the captain's home, the home with the rocket sitting in the backyard.

Tseng allows the three infantrymen to step forward, followed by the two third-class SOLDIERs that had nothing better to do than come here, searching for some sign of Charlotte. He hadn't wanted to leave any stone unturned, despite his steadfast assurance that she will, eventually, make her way to him.

What she expects from him is still something he hasn't worked out yet. Help, surely, but there's nothing he can do for her, not while her brother is the president.

One of the infantrymen knocks hard on the door. After a few seconds of silence from within, he knocks again, this time louder. "Open up!"

The door swings open, but it isn't the captain standing before them. A woman, vaguely familiar, is standing wide-eyed in the threshold, round-faced and pink-cheeked and dressed in clothes that aren't very flattering. She pushes her round glasses up to the bridge of her curved nose, eyes flicking between each of the men in turn.

"Can I help you?" she asks timidly.

Tseng steps forward, smiling politely at her. "We're looking for Cid Highwind. May we come in?"

He doesn't remember how it started.

All he remembers—as gloved knuckles connect with his temple again—is a dirty magazine with Charlie on the cover being thrown on the table in front of him, all the SOLDIERs and infantrymen being sent outside, and then . . .

He doesn't even remember why they came here, and each time he blinks, he feels like he's missing more and more time. The pain is so bad, knuckles crunching against his cheek, shattering his jaw, knocking one of his back teeth loose, splitting his lip and blacking his eye, knocking the wind out of him and breaking his nose.

"Don't ever," the Turk bastard tells him, holding him up by the collar of his shirt, "contact her again."

Cid doesn't think he can talk. The entire room is swimming around him, and the only sound he can make is a rasping groan that can hardly be heard over the Turk's heavy breathing. If he could talk, he might say something like, anything you say, boss, ain't no woman in the world that's worth a beating this bad.

He recognizes the face, though. The same damn bootlicker that beat him on the flight back to Junon after Charlie sacked him.

When the hand clutching his shirt pulls away, Cid's head falls heavily to the hardwood floor. Somewhere around him, Shera is sobbing, but he can't see her. He only stares up at the ceiling, watching the fan go round and around, making him dizzy. He might be blind in one eye. Sure seems like it.

His breath comes raggedly. He certainly hadn't been expecting anything like this to happen today. Why did they come again?

The Turk straightens, the magazine held in his hand. The one of Charlie on that jeweled throne, legs spread and a crown sitting pretty on her head. He takes one quick look at the cover and throws it at Cid. It lands on his heaving chest.

That's right. He had come for Charlie, like Charlie was hiding under his bed or something. She was missing, the Turk said. And he knew they've been talking to each other. They had torn apart his home and strewn his things all over the floors, upended dresser drawers and pulled all his shit out of the cabinets.

Then one of the SOLDIERs had found the magazine in his nightstand drawer. Cid isn't quite sure how much time was between the discovery of the magazine and the brutal beating he hadn't asked for.

"Call this number if the vice president finds her way here," the Turk says coolly, and Cid is able to turn his head just slightly enough to see him setting a card down on the counter closest to the door. "Her safety is our top priority."

Cid blinks painfully at him from the kitchen floor.

"And I hope I can trust the both of you to keep her disappearance quiet?" he continues, smiling down at Cid coldly. "If people believe there might be a reward for the return of the vice president, she may attract more would-be heroes, eager for a large sum of gil."

Cid gets the point. Undesirables going after a vulnerable Vice President Charlotte Shinra has some implications he doesn't want to consider, despite everything.

He hardly hears the Turk leave, but Shera is on her knees beside him the moment the door closes. "Are you okay?" she asks, and Cid allows his eyes to flutter closed. "You need to see a doctor, Captain."

"I'm fine—"

"You need to see a doctor."

"You good?"

When she doesn't answer right away, Cid opens his eyes again to look up into her own. Their house is a fucking mess, there's blood all over the kitchen floor, Shera's bedroom has been ransacked. There's a pinched look to her face, and she goes to touch his cheek, but pulls away at the last second and shakes her head.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "Just a little scared, I guess."

"Don't be. Fuckin' goon is gone now."

It's so incredibly painful to speak. His mouth is throbbing. He wonders if his tooth is still laying around. Maybe he accidentally swallowed it in the confusion. The tip of his tongue touches the empty space of gum, but it hurts too bad.

"They hurt you?" he asks again.

"No."

Cid nods—at least, he thinks he does. "Sorry," he mutters.

Shera looks him up and down. He probably looks pathetic. Judging by her expression, she thinks he's pathetic, too. "We should get you to a doctor. I'll drive you."

"I ain't walkin' nowhere," he croaks. "Leave me to die, Shera."

"You know I can't do that," she says sweetly, and it almost makes Cid smile. It's so sweet that he could cry, if he's not crying already. Leave it to him to have some Shinra fucks walk right into his house and fuck it all up and scare Shera and leave him dying on his own floor. And yet Shera's still here. "Let me call someone. I'll have someone come see you. I'll just be a minute. Hang in there, okay? I'm going to get you some help."

"Okay."

Cid closes his eyes again, focusing on breathing. His ribs hurt from the way the Turk's foot had pressed hard against his chest.

So Charlie's missing, he thinks, casting around for something else to think about besides the pain, and that Turk thought she might have come here.

Not like it matters now. He hopes she doesn't come here. He doesn't think he'll be able to handle another round with that slick-haired son of a bitch.

Not even Charlie's worth that.