He has to admit, Charlotte takes everything thrown at her in stride, with far more dignity than he would ever be able to muster himself.
They're running low on funds the closer they get to the river they intend to cross, in the hopes it will bring them closer to Gongaga and Sephiroth. Not only does it fuel the tension, especially between Charlie and Barret, and Reeve finds himself jumping to her defense when the situation calls for it—and it nearly always does.
But it's not like Barret knows how little Charlie has truly been involved in the running of Shinra Inc., and Reeve can't just say that without making Cait Sith sound incredibly suspect.
Charlie had apparently given them some twenty-thousand gil to bring her to the Turks, but after upgrading weapons and buying materia and equipment and medicine and food, that twenty-thousand is almost gone already between them all.
They collect what they can along the way, pooling any money they find and splitting it amongst themselves at the end of the day. It's a small amount of money, but enough to buy everyone a hot meal.
Barret is in charge of distributing the money, giving everyone else their equal share before finally approaching Charlie with the leftover gil in his palm.
Cait has himself propped against the side of Charlie's thigh, one of her thumbs distractedly stroking the white patch of fur on his chest. She's taken a liking to the cat, but every moment she touches Cait or smiles at him or allows him to be at her side, Reeve feels himself being pulled deeper and deeper into the very hell he's created for himself by agreeing to Rufus's stupid request.
"Guess that just leaves your cut, Shinra," Barret growls after a minute, throwing a handful of gil (a significantly smaller amount than even Cait was given) at her feet. It scatters on the ground around her, but she hardly seems fazed, looking almost amused.
Barret turns to walk away, remembering something at the last minute.
"Hang on." He stoops, picking up half the coins he threw at Charlie, very meticulously so she sees how much he takes. "Consider it back taxes owed us grounders. The Shinra tax."
"Barret," Tifa mutters, shooting Charlie an apologetic look.
"We agreed we'd split it evenly," Cloud interjects, watching the scene from the opening of the ratty tent. "That was the agreement, and that includes Charlie."
Frankly, Reeve finds their casual relationship bewildering. Not just Charlie and Cloud's, but the group as a whole. They act like it isn't the vice president sitting amidst them, and none of them seem worried about offending her or making her angry.
They call her Charlie, like they're comrades, like they're friends. And she doesn't even bat an eye when they address her as such.
Barret scoffs loudly at that, pocketing the money he took from her and then giving his pocket a protective pat. "You know what it's like to feel hungry?" he asks her.
Charlie, her mask never slipping, looks up at him, the firelight only enhancing her sharp features. She looks arrogant, beautifully so, and so like her brother.
"And I mean real hungry," he continues, stepping closer. Charlie never stops stroking Cait's fur, scratching lightly with her fingernails. Reeve almost envies the cat. "You ever been so hungry it's painful, Shinra? You ever been so hungry, you can't do nothing 'bout it except go to sleep?"
"No," she answers quietly.
Once Barret retreats into the tent, grumbling under his breath, his companions soon follow as the fire begins to die out, and only once everyone is inside does Charlie begin looking for the gil that blends in the dead and dying grass around her.
Cait helps her, if only because Reeve feels so sorry about witnessing something that had felt very intimate through the screen of a computer. "We can share my cut, if you'd like," he offers, holding out the gil for her. Charlie snatches it away, scowling. "I don't really need to eat, anyway."
"I don't need your pity, cat," she hisses, and that puts an end to whatever good mood she had been in before Barret's little show.
He thinks he hears her crying quietly before she falls asleep, and it breaks his heart that there's no one to comfort her, no one to hold her, no one to tell her Barret had been in the wrong to treat her so poorly.
Regardless, Charlie doesn't outwardly complain about her lack of luxury, claiming that she feels safe underneath the stars, like her mother is watching. She doesn't complain about the small portions of food she's given, doesn't complain about being cramped in the buggy (Yuffie complains about that more than anybody) for hours on end, doesn't complain about not having had enough sleep.
She does as she's asked (not that Cloud and his friends ask very much of her) without questioning it, and even allows Cait Sith to sit upon her shoulders or in her lap while she's driving the buggy or helping Cloud navigate the wild terrain by studying the map, ignoring the commotion coming from behind her.
Once, after a pack of monsters tries to flip the buggy with everyone still inside, they have to take a short break to dispatch the monsters. Cloud, Barret, Tifa, and Yuffie handle it just fine, but do not return unscathed.
Tifa returns with a sizable cut just near her sternum, where it looks like a massive claw had gotten hold of her. Aerith is able to use some shoddy healing materia to numb the pain and knit some of the muscle back together, but the wound still needs stitches.
Reeve offers, through Cait Sith, to go find a doctor in the nearby village, with every intention of calling one himself as soon as he's far enough away from the party, but Charlie shakes her head.
"What do you need to call a doctor for?" she asks, almost sounding defensive. "We don't have the money for one, and I can do it myself."
And to his surprise (and everyone else's), Charlie removes the first-aid kit that had been tucked inside the buggy for their journey—a gift from Dio—and cleans and stitches the wound on Tifa's chest with deft fingers and a confidence that he envies.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asks through Cait, amazed that there's so much he still has to learn about her.
Charlie smiles coyly, rinsing her hands in a stream of water that Aerith pours out of a canteen for her. "I was practically raised by Turks," she explains plainly. "You don't grow up around Turks and not learn how to care for a few flesh wounds."
The thought makes Reeve slightly nauseous. How long has she been patching up Turks? Surely Veld wouldn't have insisted his innocent little princess stitch him up after a mission, and he has a hard time believing Tseng would lie still and vulnerable long enough for Charlotte to put her hands all over him and do what a doctor could do better.
Reno, he thinks. It must be Reno. Reno wouldn't bother with a doctor if Charlie offered to patch him up.
When they reach the village closest to their planned crossing point, they all decide to split up. Cloud suggests they question a few locals in regards to Sephiroth, restock, and look around.
Everyone immediately pairs off, leaving Charlie and Cait Sith to go off on their own.
To make things easier, Charlie has Cait leave behind his moogle and climb up onto her shoulders after she teases him about carrying him like a baby. As they walk aimlessly around the poor and sparsely populated village, unable to come across any information in regards to a man in a black cape, they stumble across an old and rusted vehicle that belongs to an old man with only a few wisps of hair left.
Cait Sith asks him about Sephiroth, but the man doesn't know what they're talking about, complaining about getting his car to run with some very colorful language.
"I can help with that," Charlie says casually, shrugging her shoulders and opening the hood. "Want me to fix it for you?"
Instead of answering right away, the man looks at her curiously for a long time. "Aren't you . . . are you . . . ?" he stammers, tilting his head this way and that. "Are you the vice president?"
"Yep," she replies, shrugging Cait off her shoulders and reaching down for the toolbox without asking permission. "Want me to fix your car? It would make for a good story, don't you think?"
The man stares at her, clearly overwhelmed. "What are you doing here, ma'am? To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I'm on assignment, so I would appreciate you keeping it quiet for now," she answers, sounding so sweet and excited. "But I'm on break at the moment. So do you want me to fix your car or not?"
"Oh—of course—if you think—yes, of course, please!"
Charlie grins, and it's the most endearing smile he's seen from her since first glimpsing her through his monitor at the Gold Saucer.
Reeve watches her through Cait Sith's eyes all the while, hardly able to believe what he's been seeing the past few days. It's like someone's replaced his Charlotte with another version of herself, a version of herself that she hasn't been in years.
There's something different about her, something that's almost childish and indulgent. Sometimes it feels like Reeve is looking at a version of Charlie that doesn't have the burden of her father's actions weighing heavily on her shoulders.
When was the last time he had seen her behave like this? So at ease with the world and with herself?
He knows the answer. Four years ago, when Charlie had been overseeing the Space Exploration Department. She had been in her element, then—confident and powerful and charming, and so damned happy.
He almost feels guilty, knowing that she isn't aware who's really watching her, but he can't look away, and he isn't about to force Cait Sith to avert his eyes.
She looks so pretty, bent over the front of a car, not wearing something expensive or revealing or fashionable, but a sleeveless shirt that reveals the shifting muscles of her arms as she works, that sometimes rides up to offer him a glimpse of her pale stomach.
It's enough to get his heart racing, but at the risk of taking on the role of some perverted voyeur, he allows Cait Sith to handle the rest of their time together in the village himself, and Reeve steps away from his office for a little while to get some fresh air.
"Guess who just secured actual beds for us tonight, ladies and gentlemen?"
Charlie smiles sweetly as her companions look up to find her and Cait Sith making their way back towards the buggy. She's sweating, the back of her neck stings from being exposed to the sun for a few hours, and her clothes are covered in oil and dirt, but at least she's brought good news.
"I did," she finishes, when no one gives her the response she wanted or expected. "I fixed some guy's car, and it turns out he owns the inn. I went inside, and it's not as terrible as it looks from the outside. They even have a bar."
"Not the palace you're used to?" Barret asks with a cocked eyebrow. His tone isn't as cruel as it normally is. He's probably interested in the beds, as well, but refusing to seem eager.
"He said we can stay there for free tonight, but some people will have to share beds."
"Fine by me," Aerith sighs, looking pleased with Charlie's report. She smiles back, at least, which seems to cause a ripple effect among her friends. "We can spare a few hours of driving to get some extra sleep tonight, can't we, Cloud?"
Cloud isn't about to argue with the rest of his party, who all look rather excited to sleep in a bed again. "All right. We'll get some rest and leave first thing in the morning."
"I didn't know you could fix a car," Barret says, stroking the coarse hair on his chin that grows in thicker by the day. He almost sounds impressed, but he might just be a little surprised. "Guess you're not entirely useless after all, Shinra."
"I am an aeronautical engineer," she informs them. "It might shock you all to learn that I do know some things, and one of those things is how to fix a car. It's not that hard. Easier than fixing a rocket, anyway."
"You cocky brat," Barret snorts. "Didn't realize we had a rocket scientist in our midst."
"You're an aeronautical engineer?" Tifa repeats, eyes wide.
Tifa's response discourages Charlie, but it's not like anything was said to upset her on purpose. Charlie hasn't really been a true aeronautical engineer for years, not since taking on the role of Communications Director, and then Vice President directly afterwards. It's rare that someone acknowledges her other talents now, not when those talents are hardly being put to use anymore.
She thinks of Cid, and the way he had looked at her while she had been helping with the Tiny Bronco, the way he had praised her for the work she did. Her heart suddenly aches.
"I was, a long time ago," Charlie answers. "Anyway, I'm going to head back to the inn. I need a shower." She grabs her backpack from the front seat of the buggy, giving them all a mocking bow. Feeling as if her good deed meant nothing to them, she adds, "You're welcome, by the way. I'll try to find a bit of floor space so no one has to draw straws over sharing a bed with me."
"Not it," Yuffie calls out, and Charlie blushes heatedly when she turns her back on them all, making back for the village.
Once we get to Gongaga, it will be smooth sailing from there, she tells herself. We'll go to Cosmo Canyon, I'll see mother, and I'll . . .
And then she'll what? Call for someone to take her back to Midgar? What's in Midgar for her now? Reeve would never have her back, but maybe that's for the best. If she hadn't done it, he would have eventually.
Truthfully, she's disappointed that her journey will soon come to a close. She likes being among people who don't all revere her, who treat her like a person, even if they can be purposefully cruel. At least they're honest with her. If she returned to Midgar, she would only be surrounded by liars again, and Charlie feels it's getting harder and harder to determine who is telling her the truth anymore, and when people smile at her, she has to wonder what they're hiding behind their mask of cold and professional courtesy.
Three rooms are available at the inn for them, and Charlie's room has a single bed, a window, and a floor lamp with a torn lampshade, while the bathroom is the size of a cleaning closet.
She moans quietly in disgust at the sight of the dirty toilet, but thinks about having to relieve herself in the woods with bugs all around and wonders if she should be grateful for a toilet at all.
After scrubbing herself clean with soap that makes all the cuts on her body sting, Charlie heads down to the bar with the full intention of charming someone for a free drink, given that she doesn't think she has enough money to buy one herself.
Her travel companions are circled around a table already, save Yuffie (the innkeep refused alcohol to an underage girl, it seems), Red XIII, and Cait Sith, who seem to have disappeared to their rooms already.
Charlie makes to sit down at another table, but Barret stops her.
"Over here, Shinra!" he calls, and she can hear the scraping of chair legs against the wooden ground. "Saved you a seat."
"Thanks," she mutters, sitting down between Barret and Aerith.
"Get the girl a drink, would you, grandpa?" Barret shouts across the small bar, gesturing wildly at Charlie.
Charlie's cheeks go pink. "Barret, please—" she whispers, shaking her head. "I don't have the money to—"
He laughs. "You can owe me one, then."
"Oh." Charlie blinks down at the tall glass of beer the innkeep sets before her, filled right up to the brim. "Thank you."
"You know, for someone who's used to the view from her gold tower, you're not too bad at roughin' it," Barret notes. "And it ain't poisoned, by the way. Drink up."
Charlie blushes again, sipping at her beer. She knows it isn't poisoned, but that's exactly what anyone would say about a poisoned drink. "It's horrible, actually," she confesses, and this seems
to lighten the mood, making Tifa and Aerith laugh quietly. "I just don't feel I've earned the right to complain yet."
"Yeah, yeah." Barret drinks deep. Charlie can't help but feel very out of place among this group of friends. "What are you gonna do when you get back to Midgar?"
"I don't know," she says, brushing her thumb against the condensation running down her glass. "Maybe I'll see what other secrets my father's been keeping from me."
"You'll be there for a while, huh?"
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Are you excited to see your mother again, Charlie?" Aerith asks, smiling over a cup of tea.
"I guess so," Charlie says, but it isn't the entire truth.
She's been thinking about it for the past few days, choosing to dwell on it while she drives the buggy at night, listening to everyone else sleep behind her.
If what Red XIII told her was true, it seems there's a very slim chance that her mother is even alive, and she's not going to try and convince herself otherwise.
But, and there's a very small chance of it, if Charlie's mother is still alive, bedridden by some kind of disease that's eating away at her mind, what is she supposed to say?
What do you say to someone you haven't seen for around twenty years? Charlie's known most of the Turks for longer than her mother was around, and after her mother did leave, talk of her was forbidden in the Shinra household, and without anyone remembering her, it's like she never even existed.
Surprisingly, even to herself, Charlie can't help but harbor anger towards her mother, resentment and envy.
How could you forget about Rufus and I? she wants to ask. How could you leave us behind like that? We needed you. Why couldn't I go with you?
Maybe it's better if she's dead. Maybe Rufus knew that, too, and that's why he always told Charlie that Mother had died a long time ago. Maybe it wasn't her he was trying to convince, but himself.
Charlie can see his face without having to think very hard. When she pictures her brother's face, he's handsome and smiling, his perfect teeth and his pointed chin and long nose, pale eyes that have a warmth to them as he looks at her, his face so much like her own.
She misses him. Terribly so. So badly that it's painful.
"You know . . ." she rasps, clearing her throat and pushing herself to her feet. "Thanks for the drink, but I'm kind of tired. I think I'm going to go to bed."
It isn't long after Charlie retreats back to her room, lying quietly on the bed, that the door cracks open, creaking loudly on its rusty hinges. It feels so good to just lie down on something that isn't the ground.
She sits up immediately, unable to see who it is that's creeping through the darkness. "Sorry," she says quickly to the shadow. "I can make myself comfortable on the floor."
"Don't be silly," comes Aerith's voice and the soft noise following the dropping of her satchel on the floor. "We can share. I don't mind."
Charlie doesn't know why the idea makes her so flustered. She's shared a bed with a girl before, but Cissnei had been a good friend of hers, so that was different. "Really," she protests weakly, setting her feet on the ground. "You can have the bed."
"You don't like sleeping with other people?" Aerith asks, and Charlie hears the soft swishing as the other girl changes out of her travel clothes. "Is that why you never sleep in the tent?"
"No, I—" Charlie scowls. "I don't have a problem with sleeping in a bed with other people—"
"Is it us, then?"
Charlie is glad for the darkness, because she's sure whatever sad and sorry look Aerith has on her face would be enough to break her heart. "No," she's forced to answer, even though Aerith has just about hit the nail on the head. "Look, we can share the bed tonight, all right? Just stop asking questions, please."
She can feel Aerith getting into the small bed, the mattress shifting slightly under their combined weight. Charlie's eyes begin to adjust, just able to see the silhouette of Aerith's narrow face.
"How are we supposed to get to know you if you won't let us ask questions?"
Charlie lies back on her pillow, one arm underneath her head. Judging by Aerith's voice, she's lying on her side. "Why do you want to get to know me?" Charlie asks, her heart racing. "We're not friends."
"You don't think so?"
"No," she answers. "We're just travel companions. You're just escorting me from one place to another, and then we'll never have to see each other again."
"That's what you want?" Aerith sounds sad. Charlie suddenly feels very bad about being so harsh. They've been good to her, like tonight. "You never want to see us again after you get to Cosmo Canyon?"
Charlie is quiet for a moment. She isn't going to make more of this than she should. "I'm the vice president of Shinra," she murmurs again. "Once we get to Cosmo Canyon, I'll give you your money, and we'll go our separate ways."
Aerith rolls over onto her back. Charlie wonders if she should have just feigned sleep. At least Aerith isn't wary about sharing a bed with her.
"You didn't have to get us out of Corel Prison, you know," Aerith whispers. "But you did."
"It was nothing. I needed you guys, and you were all innocent."
"You could have left us there and called the Turks, but you didn't."
"I wasn't ready to go back to Midgar."
"You cared about us enough to come back."
Charlie doesn't answer. Why had she gone back for them? Yes, because she couldn't have made it to Cosmo Canyon on her own. They could have rotted down there if she could have made the journey by herself. It's not like she would have cared.
"Would you just ask a question and get on with it?" Charlie asks, closing her eyes. Her left elbow brushes lightly against Aerith's. The simple contact after days of feeling ostracized and unwanted leaves her breathless. "If you want to know me so well."
Aerith doesn't hesitate, completely unabashed. "What do you remember of your mother?"
"No."
Humming, Aerith tries again. "You said you were practically raised by the Turks."
"That's not a question."
"I can make it one, if that would make you happy."
Charlie is quiet again for a long time. She wonders if Aerith will eventually just fall asleep if she stays quiet long enough. "My father was a very busy man," she hears herself saying, the words pulled from her by some outside force. "He didn't have much time for his children."
For me, at least, she thinks. Father had plenty of time to spend grooming Rufus for the vice presidency.
"Who was your favorite?"
Charlie rolls onto her side again, propping herself up with her elbow. "That's two questions."
She can hear Aerith smiling when she says, "You must have had a favorite."
She scoffs softly, a short little exhale through her nose. "I did," she admits, "and then he passed me off to his protégé and disappeared."
"His protégé?"
"Tseng." Charlie puts her back to Aerith. "I think I'm going to sleep now."
A few of the children from the Leaf House are able to guide him to the secluded cottage deep within the Sector Five slums.
Reeve tips them extra for the guided tour, making them all smile as they leave him at the wooden stairs that will take him into the garden proper.
The garden.
He hasn't seen flowers like this in . . . well, since he was a child, living in the countryside with his parents. Once they had come to Midgar, the flowers and plant life had died out quick enough with the introduction of his reactors. They're a rare commodity in Midgar now, and yet here are hundreds of flowers before his very eyes, blooming around a three-story home that's only slightly in shambles, the soft crashing of a polluted waterfall blocking out the sounds of the slums.
Approaching the front door, with its narrow windows looking in on a kitchen table and very old television set, Reeve knocks softly and holds his breath.
A woman's face appears in the window seconds later, and upon opening the door for him, Reeve notices that she's much older than he assumed when looking through the dirty window at her.
There are deep lines at her eyes and on her forehead, and she has the appearance of a woman who has undergone a severe amount of stress in a very short period of time. Her skin is waxy and her eyes are hollow, but there's still a defiance to her, especially after her eyes take in his clean cut appearance very critically.
"Are you Elmyra?"
"Who are you?" she asks sharply, glancing over her shoulder at the stairs behind her.
"May I come in?"
"Who are you?" the woman asks again, blocking the doorway. "Are you with them?"
Reeve looks down at himself, brushing off the front of his dark suit jacket. "I'm not a Turk, if that's what you mean."
"But you're Shinra?"
"Yes, but I—"
Elmyra (or who he assumes is Elmyra) shuts the door in his face and he hears the unmistakable clicking of a lock. "Leave me alone!" she shouts through the door. "Hasn't Shinra done enough!"
"I only want to help!" he replies desperately, moving closer to the window.
"Why would Shinra want to help me?"
"Not Shinra," he answers quickly, just to make sure that fact is established right away. "Me." He wonders what would happen if he just kicked the door in. "I know about Marlene," Reeve sighs, running a hand through his hair. Does he not look kind enough? Does he not sound sincere enough? "If you let me in, I can explain everything."
Her face pales at the mention of Marlene. "What do you want? What can we do to make you leave us alone? She's done nothing—she's just a little girl—"
"I want to pay for you to leave the city," he says through the door, hoping no one is eavesdropping. "I only want to ensure your safety, and Marlene's."
"On what conditions?"
"No conditions," he says desperately. "Please let me in, and I'll explain everything."
It takes Elmyra a moment, but she does open the door for him in the end. Before letting him cross inside, she murmurs, "You're Shinra. You must have some information about my daughter."
Reeve nods slightly. "Let's talk, shall we?"