North Corel is . . . a shithole.

She would never say it out loud, but it's the most accurate word she can think of upon seeing it.

Thankfully, Yuffie says it for her, scrunching her nose. "What a dump."

It's not a town, nor a village. It's not the makeshift metal-and-wood shelters like in the Midgar slums. It's not like anything she's ever seen before; always having taken a private entrance to the Shinra-owned Gold Saucer or using the helipad nearer to the tram station, she's never had to make the drive through North Corel before.

It's a scrapyard of desolation and poverty and tragedy, a tiny community with canvas tents serving as homes and two derelict wooden buildings with collapsing roofs and crumbling foundations. The dirt pathways are lined with trash, and there's a stink that lingers in the air that probably is a thousand times worse during the hot months, a stink that smells like feces.

Do people live like this? How?

"Take a good long look, Shinra," Barret tells her as they reach the end of the train tracks, crossing over into their scrappy territory. "This is what your daddy's company did to Corel. Slaughtered 'em, just like the people in Sector Seven."

Charlie does just that, taking a long look around her. She doesn't have any idea what Corel had looked like to begin with, but surely it was better than this. Anything is better than this.

"What if they recognize me?" she asks softly, suddenly worried that their excursion to the Gold Saucer will end just before reaching the tram.

"Ain't no one here gonna recognize you," Barret answers in a low voice. "Shinra propaganda don't reach this town. They don't want nothin' to do with you."

He goes on ahead, and Charlie hesitates, watching the others move past her. Yuffie shoots her a dirty look, but she's only a dumb kid, and she only hates Charlie for a last name she never asked for.

Tifa is the first to catch up to Barret, but he stops, turning to face them all. "Y'all hang back," he announces, exchanging a lingering look with Charlie that communicates a flaming rage below the surface. "Let me handle this."

Corel had been razed to the ground years ago, in the hopes of wiping out the rebel faction that had formed among the townspeople. A coal town, Reeve had told her, long ago. The new mako reactors would make coal obsolete, and the village had no choice but to comply with Shinra's wishes.

All of that information had been learned after the fact. She couldn't have done anything. None of this is her fault, and she knows it . . .

But something nags at the back of her mind. An entire village, burned to the ground. Her father was never one for subtlety, preferring to make a show of his power and punishment, preferring to show everyone what Shinra Inc. is capable of.

Their arrival has not gone unnoticed. Several people are beginning to come out of their tents and shelters, and Charlie spies three men watching from an alcove where junk has been set up in the form of a shop. If they do recognize her, they don't say anything, eyes flicking over her as quickly as the others.

With Barret walking solemnly into the center of the "town", three men approach. They're all filthy, covered in sweat and dirt, their skin browned by the sun. Barret's head hangs low, the sun beating down on the back of his neck as one of the younger men walks right up to him, looking up into his face.

And without warning, the young man winds his arm up, and his knuckles connect hard with the side of Barret's face.

Tifa and Aerith both gasp. Cloud has to keep Yuffie from saying something. Charlie can hear Red XIII growling quietly from in front of her. The display has shocked her to the point of complete silence, especially when she sees that Barret hasn't done anything to retaliate or defend himself.

"Never thought I'd see your face again," the young man says, folding his arms over his chest. His shirt is filled with holes, and the light jacket he wears over it looks like it hasn't been washed in years.

"They kick you out of another town or somethin'?" another man asks, one that looks strikingly similar to the man who had punched Barret. "You destroy everything you touch."

"Look around you!" The third man opens his arms to gesture around them. "It's all your fault that North Corel's turned into a garbage heap."

Charlie purses her lips. Could it have been Barret who had blown the reactor in Corel? He hadn't had any reservations about blowing the ones in Midgar.

Barret continues to say nothing. Charlie feels sorry for him, probably feeling humiliated in front of his friends, probably regretting ever setting foot here. Whatever Barret is, whatever he has done, surely he isn't at fault for the burning of Corel.

That was Shinra's fault. Not the rebel faction they had wanted to crush. It was her father who commanded the burning of the coal-mining village in the end, and it was her father who should have carried that weight, not Barret.

"I'm sorry," Barret finally says, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses. He sounds positively defeated, a different man than the one who had turned his gun on her in the ship bound from Junon to Costa del Sol.

The first man scoffs, cursing at Barret. "You ain't even worth the effort. Look at him. Look at his arm. He's a freak," he says, spitting on the ground at Barret's feet before walking away with the rest of his friends.

"Let's go," Barret growls at the rest of his party. "We can hitch a ride to the Gold Saucer over this way."

Charlie's left behind, as usual.

It's a mile or so to the Gold Saucer's tram station from North Corel. Charlie's just grateful that it's relatively flat land compared to the harsh terrain they had faced upon climbing and descending Mount Corel.

It's dry here, and the wind picks up the dust and blows it into her eyes. Charlie can feel the mud caking onto her smooth skin. Cloud had told them it would prevent sunburn. Aerith and Tifa had done it after Cloud, and Charlie hadn't wanted to be left out, allowing Aerith to smear mud all over her face. Yuffie outright refused to put mud near her mouth and eyes.

She remembers Veld always making sure she put sunscreen on before going to the beach. Her fair skin would burn quickly without it.

The one time she didn't listen, she had been in pain for days, walking around the villa in loose-fitting clothes and complaining to anyone who would listen. Tseng must have told her a thousand times over the course of two days to stop peeling and picking at it, but she just couldn't help it.

Shifting her bag again, which seems to grow heavier with every step, Charlie decides to try once more with Barret. If it doesn't work, they can find privacy at the Gold Saucer until it's time to move on again (if she even accompanies them further than the Gold Saucer, and she hopes not).

Charlie forces herself to move quickly, catching up to Barret and his long strides. He doesn't even acknowledge her presence, which is a start. At least he isn't screaming in her face, blaming her for every little thing wrong with the world.

"What was that?" she asks, wondering if she might have had better luck opening her question a little more gently. "How could you let those people say those horrible things to you?"

"I didn't see you steppin' up to take the blame."

Something snaps in her. Charlie reaches out for his good arm, needing to use two hands to grab hold of his wrist, stopping him. "Is that what you want?" she snaps, once he's facing her and their friends (his friends, her bodyguards and companions) have caught up to witness their argument. "You want me to go back and take responsibility for something that was completely out of my control? Will that make you happy? Will that make you respect me even just a little?"

Barret jerks his arm away from her, looking around at everyone. "I don't owe you shit, Shinra, especially not an explanation."

"Barret, I want to help you—"

"You wanna help me?" he scoffs. "Then shut up and stop botherin' me all the goddamn time! You already know the whole damn story, don't you? 'Cause your Shinra ass knows everything already!"

"If you're so certain that my version of events is wrong, then you have to tell me!" she shouts back. "How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me what happened?"

"I don't need or want your fucking help!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause look at you!" Barret yells, his voice echoing throughout the flat, dusty path. "You're the vice president of Shinra fuckin' Inc.! For all your talk of wantin' to help people, you ain't any different. What the hell have you ever done for the people? All them people sufferin' below the plate?"

"I funded an orphanage in Sector Five," she counters, holding up her hand to count on her fingers. "I provided food to those that didn't have it, gave money to those in need, put on multiple fundraisers to raise money for the housing project in Sector Seven, made a million gil donation to a school that didn't have running water—"

"That's right," Barret interrupts, shaking his head. "Keep feedin' your damn ego."

"And, if I had known—" Charlie turns her gaze on Red XIII, who sits patiently while his companions argue—"I wouldn't have left you for Hojo. I know the kind of man he is. I'm so sorry—"

"You don't have to apologize to me," Red tells her, and it shocks her. She still isn't used to seeing him and hearing him speak. "Professor Hojo kept many secrets, even from the president himself, I'm sure."

"Don't go easy on her, Red," Barret hisses, his gun looking heavy on his arm. "Remember who she is now. A Shinra."

"I helped build the bombs that you used for the reactors," she blurts out.

She had been saving that fact for a desperate situation, like waking to find a sword at her throat or a gun in her face. It was going to be her last ditch effort to save herself, a confession that might buy her a few more minutes to plan an escape, but not a confession she really wants to be known.

It makes Barret stop in his tracks. Charlie turns to face them all, trying to look dignified, but there's mud on her face and her hair is a mess and she hasn't bathed in three days.

"What bombs?" Yuffie asks, looking around. She looks ridiculous in her little costume, and Charlie thinks she's a brat, but she's better at fighting than Charlie. "You built bombs?"

This information does not have its intended effect, however. Cloud and Aerith already know this, and all it seems to do is make Barret angrier.

Barret takes three steps—that's all it takes for him to step right up to her, towering over her. "So it's your damn fault all those people are dead—"

"Jessie built the first bomb," Charlie protests, her hands a little sweaty. "I gave her the directions, and if she had followed them, the bomb would only have blown the core—"

"Don't you dare go blamin' Jessie for that!" Barret roars, and with his good hand, he twists his fat fingers into the front of her shirt and lifts her bodily off the ground. "She's dead now 'cause of you!"

"Put me down!" Charlie screams in his face, kicking her legs out, her fingers scrabbling for purchase around his thick wrist. "Put me down now!"

"Barret! Stop!" Tifa shouts, running forward. "Let her go!"

Barret releases Charlie, and she falls to her hands and knees, panting. Her heart is hammering against her chest, but she pushes herself to her feet even as she catches her breath.

"You hear what she said?" Barret rasps, and Charlie catches sight of something besides anger in his face, something that she's very familiar with. "You hear what she said about Jessie? Mako reactor one—that was her fault!"

"No, it wasn't," Cloud says suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Jessie told me herself she used a stronger blasting agent than what the instructions called for."

Charlie's chest is heaving. She rubs at the back of her neck, where the collar of her t-shirt rubbed against her skin. It wasn't my fault after all. I knew it couldn't have been me. I knew I made the bomb right.

"Reeve and I were there the night of the bombing, in a restaurant by the reactor." She doesn't want to think about it, remembering Reeve buried beneath the rubble, his face coated with blood. Thinking about him makes her want to cry. "But I built the second bomb myself. I don't know what went wrong. It should have been perfect—"

"You mean you don't know?" Tifa turns to face her, her eyebrows furrowed together.

Charlie frowns. "Know what?"

"Shinra blew reactor five," she replies plainly, but it feels as if the words have struck her across the face. "That explosion wasn't us. They only wanted people to think it was us."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie scoffs, blinking stupidly at Cloud for confirmation. "That's—that's just—" She shakes her head. "No, I watched you plant the bomb. I watched you make your way through the reactor—you, Barret, and Cloud—"

"So you're sayin' all that shit you said in that speech . . ." Barret rubs at his chin, just as confused as everyone else is.

"My father wanted to blame me for the bombings," she tries to explain, but everything feels very foggy right now. She needs to sleep in a bed. "He wanted a reason to disown me, to distance me from the company. I never wanted to give that speech, but he ordered a gun held to my fiancé's head and I had no choice."

"That's savage," Yuffie says, too chipper for Charlie's liking.

She scowls. "Who the hell is this kid, anyway?" Charlie snaps, looking past Aerith to look Yuffie dead in the eyes. "And what do you even know about anything? What are you even supposed to be, dressed up like that?"

"I'm a ninja," Yuffie snaps right back, "obviously." She holds up her over-sized shuriken as if that proves her point.

Charlie purses her lips, nostrils flared and heart pumping as she tries to calm herself down. The subject of her father is still a touchy one. "Let's just go," she finally says, desperate for a real bad to sprawl out on. "The Gold Saucer is close now, and I need to make a phone call and take a hot shower."

Barret hustles after her as Charlie follows the pathway. A broken sign for the Gold Saucer points them in the proper direction, not like there's much room for them to get lost.

"A phone call, huh?" Barret asks roughly, keeping pace with her. She has to admit it feels good making him run after her this time. "So you can tell your asshole brother where we are and what we've been doin', I'm sure."

"If you want me out of your hair, then I'm going to need to make a phone call. I really don't give a damn if you chase Sephiroth, and nor does my brother. It's a death sentence, if you ask me, especially for a couple of unqualified vigilantes."

Barret grits his teeth, looking ahead of him. He doesn't move away from Charlie's side, a healthy bit of distance between them. She can hear the soft patter of Red's steps just behind them, and the shifting of the Buster Sword upon Cloud's back. She doesn't know when she'll build up the courage to ask about it.

"Who did that shit to your face?" he asks after another minute or so of silence.

The bruising is hidden beneath the dried mud on her skin, but the bruises have turned yellow over the days since she's been away from Costa del Sol, and it's obvious that something has happened to her, but Charlie doesn't feel right admitting to Barret that Rufus had been the one to beat her.

So she ignores him, staring straight ahead. Confessing to Rufus's actions will only make Shinra look worse in Barret's eyes.

"Why'd you help Avalanche, anyway?" he asks again. "What was in it for you? You wanted your old man's seat or what?"

Charlie pauses. She can't remain silent forever, but that doesn't mean she's going to tell the entire truth. "The reactors are killing the planet. I was able to build a bomb. I suppose it made sense to Pia to ask me for help."

"Doesn't answer my question, Shinra."

"You can call me Vice President Shinra—"

"Like hell I will."

Charlie and Barret look at each other for a long time, tired eyes staring into tired eyes. "I'm not blind to who and what my father was," she says, "and I'd like to leave it at that."

"Ain't you the oldest, anyway?" Barret doesn't seem to ever know when to stop. It always takes someone else to stop him from going on, but no one is stepping in this time. "Shouldn't you be president now that the old man is dead?"

He speaks so callously of her father's death. Charlie knows that her father is hated, even in death, but hearing it thrown in her face like this is still hurtful. Besides, Barret's question has her thinking about something else—about someone else.

Lazard is the oldest, she can't help but think, but he's dead now, and there might be more half-siblings I don't even know about.

Charlie inhales deeply. "It's my understanding that my father thought I . . . lacked certain qualities that would make a good president." She's quiet for another moment, looking down at her aching feet, moving of their own free will towards the tram station. "I was never going to be president. I always knew that."

Just as her eyes begin to burn with budding tears, Barret speaks again, and it distracts her enough to force them back. "You ever seen Corel when it was in its prime?"

The question is not accusatory, and it's that fact that throws her off. Charlie glances sideways at him. "No," she replies.

He grunts, but it sounds more like a soft laugh than anything. This is the longest conversation they've had. "It wasn't the metropolis that Midgar is, and it wasn't the sunny shithole that Costa del Sol is," he says, looking up at the sky and sighing.

She's acutely aware of everyone listening quietly behind them. She can feel their eyes on the back of her neck. It makes her uncomfortable.

"It was a coal mining town," he continues, and Charlie finds herself hanging on every word. Whatever he's going to say is going to be terrible, she just knows it, otherwise he wouldn't be telling it to a Shinra. "It was a small town, a friendly community where everybody knew everybody. Poor, quiet . . . my hometown."

Charlie watches him. He looks straight ahead, sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

"Some Shinra big-shot came to talk to us 'bout settin' up a mako reactor to replace the coal. Made a pretty convincing argument, too, good enough to convince us all. All of us but Dyne." Barret sighs again. Charlie knows that sound—he's thinking about someone he's lost, someone he's loved. She's afraid to hear more. "Dyne came from a long line of coal miners. It was all he knew, and he didn't want a mako reactor to take that away from him. But nobody was usin' coal anymore, and my wife was . . ."

Charlie has the grace to look away as his face softens. She glances over her shoulder to find that Aerith and Tifa and Yuffie are hot on Barret's heels, listening very closely. Cloud looks down at the ground, but he's certainly listening, and Red steals glances every now and then up at Barret.

"I convinced Dyne that mako would make things easier for us all," Barret tells them, keeping his voice low. The tram station is visible in the distance now, close enough to bring Charlie a wave of relief. "So we were hired to construct a mako reactor and we were glad to change with the times. And then . . . Dyne and I went outta town for a few days . . ."

Charlie grips the strap of her backpack with her shaking right hand.

"Corel was in flames, burned to the ground by Shinra troops," he says weakly, his voice flooded with sudden emotion. "They didn't even evacuate no one . . . they burned 'em all . . . my family, my friends . . ."

Her eyes start to burn again.

"There was an explosion all right. It was just an accident. No one from Corel did anything to that reactor." Barret shakes his head. "That reactor was our lives . . . our livelihoods . . . no one would have done that to the one thing we had going for our little town since coal went out . . ."

"That's terrible," Tifa sighs, wrapping her arms around herself and slowing her pace.

"S'all my fault," Barret admits, but Charlie doesn't think that's true in the slightest. "I never should have gone through with it. I never should have trusted Shinra."

"You can't blame yourself," Tifa insists, to hums of agreement from her friends. "Shinra fooled us all back then."

"I was a damn fool. They took advantage of me and my wife . . . Myrna . . . she died in the fire, sick and alone. And Dyne, my best friend . . . all because of Shinra. Because of . . . me."

"Barret, I'm so sorry," Charlie says, unable to find the proper words that will bring him comfort. "Can I ask you a question? And I'm so sorry to ask."

"What?" There's a little bite back in his voice now, which seems a good sign to her.

"Do you remember who it was that came to talk to you about the reactor?"

Barret stares at her like she has three heads. It probably seems a very odd question to ask after such a vulnerable confession, but she has to know, she needs to know that Reeve hadn't known about this, that Reeve had nothing to do with—

"It was a woman," he answers flatly. "With blonde hair and the worst laugh I ever heard."

Without giving her a chance to follow up that statement with another one, Barret rushes ahead as they reach the station. The conductor calls for everyone to board, but Charlie and her companions hang back and allow Barret some space before moving again.

"I had no idea," Charlie confesses, turning to face the others. "I had no idea."

"Neither did I," Tifa frowns. "He never said anything."

"I don't feel sorry for him at all! I think he should have known better!" Yuffie humphs loudly and stamps her foot down on the hard-packed earth. "He should have known that nothing good comes from associating with Shinra, and I think that's a lesson—" She looks very pointedly at Charlie—"we should all remember!"

She runs ahead after Barret.

"We should all get a move on, then. It'll be good to enjoy ourselves for a little bit." Aerith urges them to keep moving, and when Charlie enters the tram—empty, save for the six of them—it's with a very heavy heart.

"Mother, I don't know what to tell you. Charlie's away on business, and she won't be home for a little while—"

"I don't know what the president was thinking, sending her away when you're to be married so soon—"

"Please don't talk like that, Mother. Whatever the president was thinking, I'm sure he had good reason to send her on assignment," he lies, too much of a coward to tell his own mother that Charlie had left him.

"Well, tell her I look forward to seeing her again. She hasn't been answering her phone. I left her a voicemail the other day—"

"She's been having problems with her phone. We're going to get her a new one when she comes back."

"No phone!" his mother scoffs. Reeve rubs the bridge of his nose, knowing he's just digging his own grave the more he lies. "How are you even talking to that girl, then? I hope nothing is going on between the two of you, Reeve. She's such a sweet girl, and it would be a good thing to be married to the vice president—"

Reeve groans into his hand. "Mother, please—"

"Too old for a scolding now, are you?" He can hear his mother sighing on the other line. "Oh, sweetheart, I need your help. The boy needs clothes and—"

"Don't worry about any of that. I'll send some money when I finish here. Buy whatever you need."

As the doorknob to his office turns abruptly, without so much as a warning knock, Reeve quickly reaches over to the monitor that displays the colorful scenery of the Gold Saucer to close out of it. It's much easier to watch through a screen than to have his brain feel fried by doing it himself. When did he ever ask for this gift again?

"Listen, Mom, I have to go. I'm very busy right now. I'll tell Charlie you said hello." He hangs up before his mother has the chance to say good-bye, and he feels sorry about it, but his assistant is already walking up to his desk. He sighs. "I'd appreciate it if you knocked next time."

"S—sorry, Director," she stammers, clutching a thick stack of envelopes to her chest. "I didn't mean to—it's just that—well . . ." She frowns, holding out the bound stack of mail. "The vice president's mail is starting to pile up, and no one's really sure what to do with it, so I thought I'd ask you."

"Oh," he utters, looking at the top envelope for a long time. "Sorry. Yes, you can leave them with me. I'll take care of it, thank you."

"And there was a call about a venue that the vice president had inquired about in regards to your wedding . . ."

"I'll take care of it. Good-bye."

His assistant looks slightly troubled by his short and abrupt dismissal, but he isn't in the mood to put on a happy face.

Nothing in the stack of mail is urgent, and there are a few pieces that look suspiciously like fan-mail, one of them with childish writing on the front. The return address is from the Leaf House, and his curiosity gets the better of him once again, slitting open the envelope and pulling out the letter within.

Dear Charlie:

It's me, Leila! I'm turning seven this weekend, and I asked Ms. Folia if you could come visit for my birthday. She promised that she would deliver my letter if I wanted to write to you and ask. Megga said she thinks you'll bring me a present. I hope so! I really like flying the planes around that you bring. I want to be just like you when I'm grown up!

Love, Leila

Reeve's heart aches. He sighs heavily and puts the letter away, promising himself he won't go through any more of Charlie's things. It only leads to heartache and doubt. When will he ever learn his lesson?

They've been apart before. They've been apart for much, much longer. But he had always known they would be together again after a little time.

It's the not knowing that breaks him now. He isn't sure if he'll ever see Charlie again, and if he does, he doesn't know when that day will come.

Pulling up the footage of the Gold Saucer again, Reeve feels the familiar feeling of anxiety gnawing away at his insides. There is no guarantee that Charlie and her merry band of terrorists will make their way to the Gold Saucer in the first place, but Rufus couldn't be convinced otherwise, and his steadfast belief that he knows his sister best could not be swayed even if Reeve tried.

The last he had heard, Avalanche was making their way west, just like the Turks, but moving much slower on foot. Reeve can't really imagine Charlie scaling Mount Corel without complaining, and he can't imagine she's doing well "roughing it" with a group of people who probably despise her.

How had it gotten to this point? How had Charlie become so thoroughly convinced that running away was her only option? Had she felt so trapped the entire time? How long had she been plotting an escape? Was her disappearance due to a deep-seated unhappiness with him, or was it more to do with Shinra, her brother, or their father's company?

Of course there had been fleeting moments that suggested she might be a little more unhappy than she tended to let on, but she never elaborated or explained, always laughing these comments off as jokes, suddenly defensive when Reeve would prompt her to continue.

It's petty, but it's not fair. He had done everything for her, had cared for her when she needed it, had loved her when she allowed him to, had watched her cycle through other men—funnier men, stronger men, younger men, better men—before running to him with a broken heart.

He watches the scene play out through Cait's eyes, his elbow resting upon the desk, his knuckles propping his chin up.

He still worries, of course. Rufus had promised Charlie would be safe once the Turks brought her home, but Reeve doesn't know that he believes it. He can't believe that Charlie would escape any punishment for the mess she's caused, the mess that she left behind for Reeve to clean up, just like her father did.

But he is curious, despite the small voice at the back of his head that urges him not to do anymore than he positively has to.

Rufus gave him a job: collect information on what Avalanche is up to, call in their location, have Charlie brought back to Midgar, and have Avalanche stopped from getting in Shinra—in the Turks'—way.

But the question begging to be asked is, how long will Reeve be able to keep up the charade? To observe Charlie without telling her his true identity will surely be much more difficult than Rufus believes.

Is it possible to earn her trust through a robot? To find out what exactly she's up to? She's never been an open book, and Reeve thinks it highly unlikely that he'll get any information out of her this way.

And what is he supposed to do when Charlie is back in Midgar? Is he supposed to just forgive her? Is he supposed to forget about it and let everything go back to normal like her brother promised?

No, he thinks. The first thing he's going to do when she returns is sit her down and tell her everything. He doesn't want any secrets between them anymore, and if she chooses to run away at the hearing of his darkest secrets, then at least he did the noble thing, the honorable thing, by telling her the truth.

And if she doesn't run . . . then he'll want the same. He wants to know everything, to hear everything she's been too afraid to confess to for years.

He's put too much time and effort into their relationship to back out now.

And he loves her—loves the way she'll drop everything just to flash him a smile, loves the way she looks when she steps out of the shower to show him the purest form of herself, loves the way she's not at all embarrassed to be seen touching and kissing and looking at him in public.

Years of mutual adoration and established trust and a gentle kind of love that took a long time for the both of them to get used to . . .

Is he going to just give all that up? Taking her back would only make him look spineless (he knows the other directors already think of him as such), but having her back without question would be a blow to his pride that would be worth taking.

He'll never have another Charlie. He'll never have anything close to another Charlie.

Even at sixteen, she had been an unusually beautiful girl who had made his mouth go dry and his palms all sweaty. At sixteen, she held more power over his twenty-five-year-old self than she could ever imagine.

Reeve remembers sleepless night after sleepless night, beating himself up for forming a shallow attraction to the young and innocent daughter of President Shinra, reminding himself that she was a spoiled, misogynistic, sarcastic little brat. She was objectively good-looking, and he could acknowledge that. It's not like he ever dreamed he would be engaged to her, married to her.

But damn it she knew how to stroke his ego, how to flatter him to the point of blushing, knew exactly the right things to say to make him squirm. He hadn't realized how touch starved he was until the back of her hand accidentally brushed against his own once, hadn't realized how lonely he was until she started hanging around him all the time. She was funny and witty, and brought joy to his life, joy that he hasn't even realized he had been missing.

And when she had kissed him at twenty-two, he had knowingly allowed himself to be consumed by her.

Rookie mistake, he thinks to himself. Letting yourself be consumed by President Shinra's daughter.

There was a reason only the bravest men stepped forward to openly show interest in Charlie. Reeve should have realized that from the start. Every kiss only served to drag him further and further into the lion's den that is the Shinra family (was the Shinra family—now a broken family that seems to be collapsing under the weight of their father's murder).

He had considered, of course, going to the Gold Saucer himself, but the Shinra-owned building likely has ears and eyes everywhere, and there's no guarantee that Charlie would return with him.

And if Rufus found out he had tried to intercept Charlie before he gathered any information . . .

Besides, he's curious—always curious—and even if it hurts him, Reeve wants to know what she's up to, as well.

He deserves that much, doesn't he? Hasn't Charlie lied enough? She can't really be angry with him for a little recon mission, can she? And who's to say she'll ever have to know? He can earn her trust again—he's done it before, so why wouldn't he be able to do it again?

Besides, Charlie's too smart to lead them straight to the Gold Saucer. There's no possible way that she would go there if she didn't want to be found. It's ridiculous, almost stupid, and—

Shit.

There she is, standing in front of Cait Sith, looking into his eyes, looking through the monitor into Reeve's eyes, no makeup on, her hair wet and brushed and her forehead a little sunburnt, wearing clothes that look a little stiff.

"Let me do the talking," he says to no one in particular, unsure of why he's said it out loud.

But his mouth is so dry, and the sight of her left ring finger looking so bare makes his heart catch in his throat, and she's looking expectantly at him—no, at Cait—and it takes him too long to speak, long enough that Cait takes it upon himself, in a mild voice with a foreign lilt, to ask her:

"G'afternoon, Miss Shinra! Would you like your fortune read?"