"One for Tifa . . . Cid, there's yours . . . Yuffie, you're only getting one tonight . . . and one for our merc . . ."
"I'm good."
"Don't be a downer. We're celebratin' tonight, and tomorrow . . . the Temple of the Ancients, to beat Sephiroth once and for all!"
Charlie listens to her friends cheer over her shoulder, the nine of them all seated around the fire. She doesn't join them that night, sitting on the wing of the Tiny Bronco and looking out to sea, turning the handgun over in her hands, the one she had taken from Don Corneo, brushing the pad of her thumb over the elaborate engravings, trying to get a feel for it.
She hears soft footsteps upon the metal of the plane, and Charlie glances sideways at Cait Sith as he sits down beside her, leaning back on his hands. He almost blends in with the darkness, but his crown, cape, gloves, and chest give him away.
"Not in a celebrating mood tonight?" he asks her lightly, and Charlie offers him a small little smile as she sets her new gun back down.
"No, not tonight."
Besides the sound of their companions at the fire, Charlie listens to the lapping of the waves on the beach and against the plane, the clicking and singing of insects. Sounds that you don't ever hear in the city, with all of the humming from the reactors and the buzz of constant conversation and the loud sputtering of car engines.
"Hey, you okay?" Cait Sith asks again, lifting her arm to allow him to curl up at her side, her fingers brushing against his chest. She scratches at him, his fur soft, but his body harder than a normal cat's. "S'been a long day, and you've been through a lot."
"It's over now," she says. "I'm okay."
Cait Sith looks up at her, and she finds that looking down into his cute little face is almost enough to make her cry. "Charlie," he says softly, slipping his hand into her own, so casual and comfortable and natural. The gesture reminds her so much of Reeve that she could really cry now. "It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to talk about it."
She swallows hard, surprised to find herself clinging so tightly to the cat's hand. "I just have a lot on my mind. I'll be fine." Charlie casts around for something to tell him, just to keep him from asking more questions. "I'm homesick, I guess."
"Homesick? For Midgar?"
"No," she adds quickly, "not homesick. I just . . . miss the things I left behind in Midgar." Charlie releases Cait Sith's hand. She misses Reeve. She misses Rufus. She misses Tseng. She misses Cat and Veld and Angeal. "I wish I could at least go back and explain myself."
Cait Sith is suspiciously quiet. She's used to him trying to lighten the mood and break the tension, trying to make everyone smile and laugh. Lately, however, he's seemed a little out of sorts, ever since Charlie met back up with them again.
"I was engaged. Did you know that?"
When he speaks again, it's not his usual playful voice. "I did."
She wants to say more, to tell Cait Sith about Reeve and how horribly she had wronged him, and how much it had hurt to come home and find all of his things gone and cleaned out of her apartment. But the idea of rambling about a man who may not even love her anymore makes her sad.
"When you went to Cosmo Canyon, did anyone say anything else about my mother?"
"Oh, aye. Bugenhagen said all kinds of things. He knew your mother well, it seemed," Cait Sith answers, tilting his head back to look at the stars through his hardly-opened eyes. "Can you give me a minute, Charlotte? I'd like to show you something."
Charlie blinks down at him, frowning, her eyebrows knitting together. It's odd to hear him address her by her full name. "Okay."
Cait Sith suddenly slumps over, dead weight against her, seemingly unresponsive. She waits quietly for a few minutes, wondering if his battery has died, or whatever magic that keeps him alive has gone. But then, he leaps back to his feet so quickly that she jumps, and he opens his mouth.
The voice that comes out of him is not his own, nor is it any voice that she's ever heard before. It sounds like it comes from an old man, echoing slightly from deep within Cait Sith.
". . . when one returns to the planet, they aren't truly gone . . . when you find Miss Charlotte Shinra, perhaps you could tell her that her mother is still here, watching over her . . ."
Her breath hitches.
". . . Eleanor is the wind that rustles the leaves, the water that feeds the roots of saplings and the flowers that bloom . . . she is the heat of the flames of a fire that warms us on a cold night . . . she is the grass underfoot that tickles our feet . . . the trees that bless us with shade we may rest under . . . the very energy that flows under the earth of our planet . . . she will never truly be gone so long as the planet continues to live . . ."
Cait Sith's mouth clamps shut again, and he seems back to his normal self. The sentiment is touching, but she doesn't know that she believes it. It all sounds like the sort of thing that might have come from one of the fairytale books Veld used to read her.
"What are you?" she asks quietly, looking the cat over twice more.
"Charlotte," he begins, wringing his hands together, "I—"
"Hey! Shinra! Come have a drink!"
Charlie looks over her shoulder to see Barret waving her down, one thick arm up in the air, moving back and forth with speed she wouldn't expect from someone so big.
"No, thank you," she calls back, "just drink an extra one for me."
"Yes, ma'am," Barret replies eagerly, pouring the last of the bottle into his wooden cup.
It had been Reno who gave Charlie a hefty bag of gil before she was due to leave Wutai, and she had split it evenly between them all the moment she joined her friends again.
"Don't make me regret this," Reno had said to her, pushing the money into her hands as well as Corneo's gun. "You know how to use this thing?"
"Point and shoot," she had answered.
That had earned her a wary and skeptical smile from Reno, and he had ruffled her hair like a brother might before sending her on her way.
Barret had decided to use his share on alcohol and food, something to fill his stomach before bed, something to celebrate a victory with.
Charlie doesn't feel like it was a victory.
She couldn't save Elena or Yuffie, and she couldn't even save herself. She had to beg for help from Cloud, had to wait for the Turks to come save her. And even then, Cloud surely only came for Yuffie and his materia.
Before turning back around to face the water, Charlie watches Cid stand up from his place beside Vincent, brushing himself off. He's taken his jacket off, and the short sleeves of the white undershirt he wears are tight around his biceps. She's always liked his arms.
At the very thought, Charlie turns away from him, blushing. It makes her feel bad, looking at him so intently, admiring the way his muscles strain underneath his tight t-shirt.
She shouldn't be thinking like that. She shouldn't be looking like that.
Giving her head a slight shake, she asks Cait Sith, "Sorry, what were you saying?"
"It was nothing," the cat answers hastily. "Nothing at all."
They're quiet for a minute, until Charlie hears Cid crawling up onto the Tiny Bronco clumsily and drunkenly, a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"Mind if I join you?" Cid asks, one hand on his hip as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. He doesn't wait for an answer. "Give us a minute alone, would you, Cait?"
Cait Sith looks up at her warily, but Charlie smiles at him. The cat takes his sweet time leaving, but does so without another word. His moogle waits in the water to take him back to shore. As soon as he's gone, Cid takes his place, sitting beside her on the wing.
"Think the cat's got a crush on you, Miss Shinra," Cid mutters, putting his cigarette out on the metal wing and flicking the butt back towards land. "Want me to tell him he doesn't stand a chance?"
"Against who?"
"The entire human population."
Charlie laughs softly. "Fair enough."
"Why don't you come have a drink?"
"I don't belong with them," she reminds him, giving her shoulders a slight shrug. "Besides, I'm a sad drunk."
"Y'know . . ." Cid sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's shed his flying goggles, as well, but she only notices now that he's close to her. "You were pretty brave back there, when Corneo was threatenin' you."
She laughs again, this time dryly, humorlessly. It seems forced and pulled from her unwillingly, a nervous little thing. "I was terrified," she admits, and it's the truth. "I thought I was going to die there."
"Shit, I'm glad you didn't. To tell you the truth, I was scared shitless, too." He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky. "Lotta stars out tonight."
Charlie isn't even looking at the stars. She's looking at his face, bathed in pale moonlight, the shadow of a beard on his face and a shallow cut on his forehead. Even now, she can't believe he's here. She's afraid to blink, afraid that she'll wake from a dream, alone in her cell again.
"Don't you hate me?" she whispers. "After everything?"
Cid looks at her, chewing on the inside of his good cheek. "No."
The breath leaves her audibly. It makes her blush.
"You've changed, Lottie."
She raises an eyebrow, softening at the sight of his lips twitching, the corners quirking upwards ever so slightly. "How so?"
"You ain't funny anymore," he tells her, without a shred of hesitation.
"Well, you haven't changed a bit."
"How would you know what I'm like?"
"Crass, arrogant, reckless, completely without respect for authority—"
Before she can finish her thought, Cid puts a rough hand on her back and pushes her forward, sending her falling off the wing of the Tiny Bronco and splashing into the water, still wearing her clothes. At least she had taken her shoes off before wading through the water to reach the plane. The water is deep enough for her to submerge completely, sending a shock through her system.
Charlie surfaces, spitting water out of her mouth and coughing. "What the hell is wrong with you!"
Cid is standing up on the wing, taking his boots off and emptying his pockets. "You were due for a bath anyway," he teases, lifting his shirt over his head. "I could smell you from over by the fire."
She averts her eyes quickly at the sight of his bare torso, not wanting to look at all. Thankfully, Cid jumps into the water, surfacing right in front of her and shaking his hair out, droplets splattering all over her face.
Treading water, Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. "That's exactly what I was talking about, you asshole!" she hisses, but it only makes him smile. "You have no respect for any authority—"
"You ain't the vice president here, honey," he interrupts her, dipping his head back to get his hair wet again. His chest breaches the surface and Charlie purses her lips tight. "You're just one of us fugitives now. And I know I'm pretty new 'round here, but I think Cloud's in charge, not you."
"That doesn't give you the right to push me off planes and into water," she snaps.
"Do you ever shut your mouth?" Cid splashes her right in the face, laughing.
"Stop it!" she shouts, splashing him back. "I'll hold your head under until you stop!"
"All right, all right!" He holds his hands up in surrender, still grinning when Charlie stops slapping the water towards his face.
And then he splashes her one last time. She screams through her teeth, but Cid seems to find delight in her stress. He moves forward and lowers himself to his chin, the water lapping at his bottom lip.
"You're high-strung," he notes.
"Forgive me for reacting appropriately to the set of events that I've lived through recently," she spits at him.
"No, you've always been like that." He raises his eyebrows at her and slips beneath the water.
Charlie sighs, looking around for a sign of Cid, who breaks the surface again right behind her. She turns around as quickly as she can.
"But you don't laugh as much as you used to. Bet I can make you laugh, Lottie."
"I don't feel like laughing right now."
Cid's smile doesn't quite falter, but it softens to something a little more sympathetic than mocking. "All right," he says quietly. "What do you feel like doin'?"
"Crying."
"Okay. But I can't promise you'll see any tears from me."
He smiles again, all teeth. There's a slight gap between his front teeth, but she likes it, the little imperfections that make him human, that remind her this isn't a dream.
It makes her heart beat impossibly fast. It's real, he's real, but how can he possibly smile at her? She's everything that Avalanche and their group of friends hate—she's a Shinra, and they should have let her die on that mountain before she causes them any more trouble.
Any day now, any moment, they're going to remember who she is and what she's capable of and who might come after her. Any moment now they're going to tell her to get lost, to find her own friends, her own family, to go back to Midgar and be the vice president.
"You gonna run away from me again?" he asks, his smile fading. "You got that look in your eye."
Charlie watches him tread water for a moment, arms moving back and forth across the water's surface, tanned and wet and scarred. "I'm just tired, and I need to change out of these clothes," she tells him.
"What're you doin' here with those morons, Lottie?"
She thinks for a moment, but decides not to answer in the end. Charlie splashes him playfully in the face, ducking below the water as he calls out her name. She swims past him, towards the belly of the Tiny Bronco, where her feet are able to find sandy ground again. When she breaks the surface, the night air is cold against her face and Cid turns himself around to face her.
"I ain't done talkin' to you," he scoffs, making his way towards her with leisurely strokes until he reaches the shallows again, standing up straight and allowing her the sight of him shirtless, oblivious, and dripping with water.
"You have to catch me first," she teases.
Charlie runs through the water towards the beach, her soaking wet clothes slowing her down. She looks over her shoulder to see Cid moving much quicker than expected, and she shrieks when he leaps forward and wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her back down into the water, her upper half face down in the coarse sand of the beach.
"Caught you," he jeers, flipping her over so she's able to look up into his face.
Someone is laughing by the campfire. Probably Yuffie.
With a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the beach, Cid looks down at her incredulously. Charlie can't figure out why, until she realizes that the laughter is coming from her, breathless and uncontrollable. Her entire body shakes with it, her cheeks beginning to hurt from the wide grin on her face, splayed out underneath him.
How long has it been since she's laughed like this?
Cid sighs heavily and happily, collapsing onto his back in the sand with his arms and legs spread out. "Told you I could make you laugh."
She sleeps so quietly she could be dead for all he knows.
She's curled up by the fire, never wanting to sleep in a tent. She uses Cait Sith's moogle as a pillow, a scratchy blanket and Vincent's bright red cloak thrown over her, pulled up to her mouth. Her face is a little sunburnt, and some light freckles have appeared on her forehead and the bridge of her nose, but he'd only noticed those while he was inches from her face.
Her hair is still wet, splayed around her like a goddamn golden halo.
Cid smiles a small little smile to himself as he pokes at the dying fire, forcing his eyes away from Charlie.
It's quiet now, with everyone having gone to sleep slightly drunk and very full. Snoring reaches his ears from the tent where Barret sleeps. The only people still awake besides himself now are Vincent and Aerith, and the three of them sit in silence for a long time.
"You like her," Aerith whispers in a sing-song voice, careful not to wake the sleeping vice president beside her. Damn her—she must have caught him looking.
Even Vincent turns eyes on Cid, waiting almost expectantly for an answer.
Cid scoffs. What a ridiculous idea, even though holding himself above her earlier had made him blush. Cid Highwind doesn't blush. "She's all right, for a Shinra."
He feels bad about it after he says it. It probably would have hurt Charlie's feelings if she heard him say that.
"I mean . . ." Cid shifts uncomfortably. "Ah, what the hell do you two know about it anyway?"
Aerith jumps to her defense, surprising him. "She's a nice girl, and she likes you. Why would you say something like that?"
"I think I know her a little better than you do, princess, okay?" Cid retorts, trying not to sound too short.
He knows that Charlie's probably told Aerith all kinds of things about him, things Cid doesn't want anyone to know. He can imagine Charlie telling Aerith in a scandalous whisper about how such a pathetic little pilot had dragged her out to an open field to kiss her before blasting off into space for who knows how long. He can imagine them both laughing at his crooked teeth and broken nose and swollen face.
The walk back to the Tiny Bronco had been unnaturally upbeat. They had traveled together as one big group, had been happy to have their materia back, and glad that they had been able to escape Don Corneo and the Turks without too much effort.
Charlie had walked behind the group, carrying her new backpack on her back, filled with clothes and necessities that she hadn't been able to bring with her during her quick getaway from Rocket Town.
It sure had been sweet of her to split the money, and there had been a lot of it to go around.
Once they had set up camp, Charlie had pulled out from her bag some purple apple that she had bought from a fruit stand selling imported foods (Cid thinks the seller had overcharged her, but Charlie wanted the apple no matter what), and gone off on her own to eat it by herself a healthy distance away from the fire, sitting on the wing of his airplane.
Cait Sith had been the one to tell him the fruit she bought was called a dumbapple.
"What a stupid fuckin' name," was Cid's answer, but maybe he was just angry that Charlie didn't want to spend time with him.
"Leave her be," the cat had said as Cid stood to go sit with her. "She wants to be alone right now."
He had listened to Cait's suggestion, albeit grudgingly.
There's something sad about Lottie. He doesn't think anyone else really notices besides Cait Sith, but he thinks that's because no one really knows her. Even just seeing her go off on her own, not wanting to be surrounded by people and the center of attention, is unlike her.
When she had come to Rocket Town to study the stars, there had still been some fight left in her, and she had been a welcome presence among his friends. Charlie hadn't seemed out of place or uncomfortable, inserting herself forcibly into Cid's life again whether he liked it or not.
Now, she's so quiet that sometimes Cid fears she's slipped away from them, gone to them, gone to him. He knows he's walking a fine line thinking things like that, but sometimes it feels like they're both young again (or at least, he feels that way), and not a day has passed since the days of the Highwind's completion.
He's noticed something, however, that he's been too much of a goddamn coward to bring up.
Lottie isn't wearing her engagement ring. He can't believe he didn't notice right away, but he hadn't even been thinking about it. He had only noticed when he held her hand yesterday, urging her to walk across the bridge that even scared the hell out of him.
He doesn't want to bring it up, afraid that she'll admit she's still engaged, but left her ring behind so as to not lose it or dirty it or whatever the fuck excuse she has prepared.
But it gives him hope, and remembering her sweet laughter on the beach and the way she had looked up at him through her long lashes and the way she had smiled at him just before going to sleep . . .
Staying with Cloud and his friends may very well be the best goddamn decision he's ever made in his life.
The president ain't answerin' his phone. Why don't you go and check on him? And for the record, if you tell him I let Charlie go, I'll fucking kill you. Got it?
Reeve can't believe he's been given babysitting duty (by Reno, of all people), but it's been almost a week since the Turks have heard from the president, and every time Reeve finds himself outside the president's office for advice on a way to proceed with the city or for a signature on some paperwork, the office always seems to be empty.
Really, Rufus has withdrawn himself almost completely from the public eye ever since Charlie had jumped onto the wing of the Tiny Bronco with Cid Highwind.
Reeve goes to knock on the door to Rufus's apartment that evening. Reno shouldn't have even worried about the president finding out about Charlie's escape from Wutai, as Reeve never intended to tell anyone.
They're far removed from Wutai now, anyway. Cid had sailed the downed plane around half the western continent until they had reached the southern coast. All the while, Reeve had been forced to watch Charlie and Cid grow closer, teasing each other and flirting with each other and smiling at each other.
He takes solace in the fact that they haven't started sleeping together, but he doesn't want to speak too soon. Reeve wouldn't put it past Cid to try something so scandalous, with no thought as to what Charlie might want.
While their goal had initially been the Temple of the Ancients, those plans have been put on a temporary hiatus. After coming across a weapons dealer on their way to a village that hopefully had an inn, they had learned of something called a Keystone that was said to unlock an old, almost ancient temple, a Keystone that had recently been sold to Dio from Gold Saucer.
So the next morning, everyone had packed their things, boarded the Tiny Bronco once more, and Cid found a river that cut through the western continent, shaving days off their trip back to the Gold Saucer. By Reeve's approximation, they should arrive at the amusement park by this evening—even late afternoon if they encounter no trouble.
The thing is, Reeve finds, is that it's much easier to remember his original goal while looking at Cid Highwind through Cait Sith's eyes. While there is still some lingering guilt about what is to come, mainly guilt that's focused more towards Charlie, Reeve knows that he shouldn't worry too much about Tseng getting his hands on her.
Tseng knows what awaits her in Midgar, and will not release her to Rufus so carelessly. Even Reno had known that, and it was why he let Charlie go. Reeve had never been more grateful towards a Turk in his entire life.
There's shouting on the other side of the door. Reeve can hear Rufus yelling incoherently, and a woman with a high-pitched voice huffing and puffing. Someone storms around the apartment, and Reeve knocks again, but no one bothers to answer.
For some reason, he tries to open the door, surprised to find that it's unlocked. He lets himself in and is horrified by the scene in front of him.
A young girl is wandering around the apartment, mostly nude. Clothes are scattered all over the living room, but it's not just her clothes. The apartment is a sty, the kitchen overflowing with dishes and the sofa being used as Rufus's personal closet.
When Rufus, fully dressed, spies Reeve from the threshold of his bedroom, he retreats and slams the door like a petulant child. The girl pulls a skirt up, completely unabashed with her nakedness.
"Aren't you going to pay me?" she shouts, picking up a shirt off the back of the sofa and pulling it over her head. "Hello!" The girl pounds at Rufus's bedroom door, and Reeve quickly decides that's the worst idea he's ever seen be executed. "You still owe me!"
"Here, I'll pay you," he offers, and the girl gives him a number that he's sure is an exaggeration, but he pulls his wallet out and pays her without complaint. "What happened?"
The girl looks pleased to have someone to tell. "He couldn't get it up," she explains, walking out the door and slamming it shut behind her.
"Is she finally gone?" comes Rufus's voice, and the door to his bedroom opens slowly. There's a scowl on his face, and he doesn't look well.
His skin looks almost gray and slightly waxy, his hair is unkempt and falling into his eyes, lacking its usual luster. The scowl looks permanent, eyes glossed over and his clothes looking as if he's slept in them.
Reeve has never seen Charlie's brother look anything less than regal, always elegant and looking well cared for. With his sharp features and cold voice, there is still a sense of importance that's visible to Reeve, to someone who knows Rufus, but the boy also wouldn't seem too out of place beneath the plate, lining up for their meal.
It's pathetic, and while there's a sense of satisfaction that accompanies seeing the president in such a vulnerable position, Reeve can't help but feel sad for him.
"Mr. President," Reeve begins, not knowing where to sit or if he should help clean. Everything seems so dirty and Rufus doesn't seem himself. "It's come to my attention that the Turks have been unable to get ahold of you."
"So they sent you?" Rufus snorts, falling backwards on the sofa and crossing one leg over the other. "Gods, that woman was a bore. Did you see her? She was a little bit too plain for me, and you should have heard the way she talked. They should just train the girls down there to keep their mouths shut. Even I'm not that desperate."
Reeve raises his eyebrows and nods, if only to appease him. When Rufus lifts his eyes and looks fully into Reeve's face, he looks a little drunk. The scent of scotch hangs in the air, but that might be the scotch bottle sitting on the kitchen counter, opened and lying on its side.
Rufus opens his arms wide, the top two buttons on his shirt left undone. "As you can see, Director—" Yes, Reeve thinks, definitely drunk—"I'm in perfect health. Why don't you run back to the Turks now and leave me the hell alone?"
"We're only worried about you—"
"Worried about me?" Rufus scoffs, getting to his feet and swaying slightly. "What a refreshing change of pace, Director, to have someone worry about me instead of Charlie."
"Your sister has nothing to do with this, sir."
"My sister has everything to do with this!" he snarls, and Reeve blushes, inclining his head respectfully and holding his hands behind his back. "She's a goddamn liar, Reeve, promising that she wouldn't leave, telling me that she loved me, and the first chance to gets to be with that moronic pilot again, she takes it—"
Reeve remains quiet, even as Rufus stops abruptly. Suddenly, the scowl on his face twists into something malicious and cold, something that tells Reeve he is not going to escape this apartment completely whole.
"Don't you want to know what happened, Reeve?" Rufus asks, moving closer, unable to walk a straight line, but making his way closer regardless. "Don't you want to know what Charlie promised me? Don't you want to know what happened to her the night I saw her in her cell?"
His lips feel as if they're glued shut. Of course he doesn't want to know. Whatever it is can't be good, or else Rufus wouldn't be so eager and excited about it.
Rufus runs a hand through his hair. "Didn't my sweet sister tell you about us, Director?"
"I don't know that Charlie would appreciate—"
"She never told you that, on nights when she felt really lonely, she would sneak into my bed?" the president hisses, sneering at him. "I suppose you wouldn't know, of course, that the last night I saw her, the night before she left Rocket Town with that worthless sad sack (and I don't mean you this time) . . ."
Rufus isn't at all ashamed. Charlie would be squirming, crying, begging to talk about something else. He doesn't even have to finish his sentence, standing there tall and proud, his expression very indicative of what had transpired between him and his sister.
"Don't worry," he says, probably upon noticing the slight look of discomfort on Reeve's face, "Charlie has never let me fuck her."
He feels as if he's been punched in the stomach. The back of his neck feels very warm. He shouldn't be hearing this. He shouldn't be humoring Rufus. The casual way Rufus says it makes Reeve feel nauseous, like the idea of sleeping with his sister doesn't bother the president at all.
One of Rufus's thin eyebrows arches. "That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. "Not that I haven't tried, of course. Sometimes I wonder how you, of all people, convinced my sweet sister to spread her legs."
I was kinder, Reeve thinks bitterly. "Sir, if it's all the same to you, I would rather not discuss my sexual relationship with your sister right now."
Rufus looks livid. Reeve tries to think of all the possible reasons as to why the president might look so angry with him, but the only possible conclusion he comes up with is his recent engagement to Charlie.
Perhaps it had been a mistake. It was an easy one to make, as Charlotte was beautiful and young and in love with him and eager to sleep with him. Reeve hadn't had the willpower to refuse her, not when she was everything he wanted for so long, but he had never once stopped to consider what a relationship with Charlie might mean in regards to her family.
If he had known, all those years ago, what the outcome of their engagement would be, would he have still done it? Would he have still responded to her kiss so hungrily, would he have still carried her off to bed with a heart that throbbed in time with other parts of his body?
"Is this how you feel?" Rufus asks again, splaying a hand over his chest. "Is this how you felt when Charlie left you?"
Reeve clears his throat. He isn't going to stand here and tell Rufus that waking up to find Charlie's engagement ring had shaken him to his core, had caused him to cry into his hands for a little while, had broken his heart.
"I've done everything for her," he rambles drunkenly, and the sight makes Reeve sad again. "I bought her everything she wanted, I held her when she wanted to be loved, I protected her when I could. I loved her, and she lied and left."
That sounds familiar. Hadn't he done all those same things? Hadn't Reeve spoiled her with material things and affection and love, all while watching other men break her heart?
"What more could she possibly want?" Rufus snaps, sounding more angry with himself than anything. "What more could I have possibly given her to make her stay?"
Reeve doesn't have an answer for him. If he did, he might have had Charlie back weeks ago.