"What can I do for you, mister?"

The dark-skinned, teenage girl behind the counter snaps her gum. Her eyes sweep up and down Tseng, eyebrows raised. He hardly seems to notice, pulling his wallet out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and flipping it open.

"Hey . . ." The girl's eyes fix on Charlie. "Aren't you—"

"A room for my wife and I," Tseng interrupts her quickly, handing over a thick stack of bound bills. "Our friend will be here shortly. Give her the key to another room when she arrives."

The girl gives them both another long look, narrowing her wide-set eyes at Charlie before dropping a room key into Tseng's upturned palm.

As they make their way up the stairs, Charlie giggles from behind him. If this is how it's going to be, she's not going to make it easy for him, and she's not done with her show of defiance.

"Going to give me a good snuggle tonight, Tseng?" She sighs dreamily, clasping her hands together. When this fails to get a reaction from him, Charlie wraps her hands around his arm. "I never imagined we'd be taking our honeymoon in Gongaga, my love. It's so romantic . . . I can't wait for you to completely ravish me tonight."

Tseng chokes, looking down to scowl at her. "Stop joking around."

"Oh, come on. Since when do you hate my jokes?" She releases him, rolling her eyes. "Besides, it'd be the best you ever got."

"Enough. You're not sleeping in my room tonight. You're going to share with Elena."

"What?" Charlie scoffs loudly, dropping the act. She's glad Elena isn't here to see her reaction. Tseng had sent her off to investigate someone's home the moment they set foot in Gongaga. "I'm not sharing a room with Elena."

"Why not?"

"Because she's annoying." Tseng shoves the key into the lock moodily, pushing the door open. She follows him inside. "What? Too much of a coward to sleep in the same bed as me?"

"Don't call me a coward," is his answer, spoken very flatly. He dumps his bag onto the bed, wide enough for three people to sleep comfortably.

"Veld let me sleep in bed with him," she reminds him.

"Twenty years ago, maybe," he retorts. "You're almost thirty now. Do you still need to be coddled?"

"I'm only twenty-seven," she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip at him. It makes him smile. "And you're the one that does all the coddling in the first place."

"Old habits die hard."

The room is small and very cramped with such a large bed, with a window overlooking the reactor ruins in the distance. By day, it might not seem so ominous, but in the pale moonlight, it's a shadow coming to haunt them all. There's a bathroom, hardly big enough for two people to stand in, and one lamp that casts the room in yellow light.

Charlie drops her bag onto the end of the bed, as well. She's lucky Tseng had at least thought about her wellbeing enough to bring a bag full of her clothing along, as well as a hairbrush (Gods, it's been a while), a toothbrush (that was one of her first purchases in Wutai), as well as other toiletries that look brand new. The thought of him digging around in a drawer full of her lingerie is slightly amusing, however.

Of course, nothing matches, but she supposes there's no one she really needs to impress at the Temple of the Ancients.

When she looks up, Tseng's back is to her, and he's looking out the wide window. "Zack was from Gongaga," he notes quietly, "did you know that?"

Charlie pauses, shrugging her shoulders. "No, I didn't."

Tseng turns back around, avoiding her eyes and opening his bag. "Tomorrow morning, we're leaving for the Temple of the Ancients," he tells her, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out the Keystone, turning it this way and that to properly admire it. "I haven't yet decided what I'm going to do with you afterwards."

That definitely makes it sound like he's going to kill her. "You could let me go back to the people I was with before."

"You don't belong with them, Charlotte," he muses, putting the Keystone in his bag and pulling out a handgun. She recognizes it almost immediately. It's the gun she had before Tseng had taken her from Gongaga, the gun that Rufus had given her all those years ago. "I have some business to take care of. I'm leaving this with you—not that I think you'll encounter any trouble. There's no point in trying to run away now. You won't get far at night through the jungle, all alone."

"Can I use your phone while you're gone?"

"No. I'm bringing it with me."

"Not even to call Reeve?"

Tseng gives her a very curious look, then. His eyebrows furrow together, and he looks as if he's on the verge of asking her something before shaking his head and looking away. "No."

"So I'm your hostage."

"It would appear so." He adjusts the gloves on his hands, pulling them further down his wrists. "But I prefer to think of us as friends, don't you?"

Charlie scrunches her nose. "No, I don't. You're a liar."

"Would you like to be the pot or the kettle tonight?"

"The kettle, definitely."

Tseng's mouth twitches as he lifts his eyes to look into her face again. "Very well." He crosses the room in four long strides, opening the door. "You can stay here tonight, but word of this will not reach your brother's ears, understood?"

Charlie falters. She hadn't thought about that. Blushing, she quickly throws her bag around her shoulders and gets to her feet, not wanting to cause anyone more trouble than necessary. "Sorry, I'll share with Elena. I just—"

Tseng cocks an eyebrow when she stops abruptly. "You just what?"

"Come on," she says, giving him an exasperated look. "I've known you for like, thirteen years or something like that. If I have to share a room with someone . . . can't I just sleep on the floor or something?"

"I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor," he replies, gesturing with his chin towards the gun on the bed and putting on the most serious face he can muster. "Don't use it."

Charlie rolls her eyes, flopping back onto the bed and sighing. "I won't, don't worry."

For being his hostage, Charlie thinks he's far too lenient. Maybe he's getting soft. It happened to Veld, too. Now that she thinks about it, it happened to Reno and Rude, as well.

The bathroom door is cracked, letting all the steam out, and she can hear the slapping of water on the shower tiles. She could walk into the bathroom right now and shoot him, if she wanted to. But she doesn't really think she wants to at all, and besides, she wouldn't put it past Tseng to be expecting that from her. She's sure he'd still find some way to restrain her, even caught off guard.

She examines the glowing materia in her hand, the materia that will allow them to enter the Temple of the Ancients. Unfortunately, she hasn't had much luck with any of the materia that Cloud let her try, so she hopes that Tseng knows how to use it.

It's almost unthinkable that, tomorrow morning, she'll be heading an exploration of the place that has eluded her father his entire adult life. Tseng had told her honestly that he wasn't certain if the Temple of the Ancients was the Promised Land that Sephiroth and President Shinra were both seeking, but surely the place will have answers.

Charlie can't deny that it's exciting. Her, Charlotte Eleanor Shinra, the vice president of Shinra Electric Power Company, the neglected and forsaken daughter of the late President Shinra—she's going to discover the Promised Land, a land of supreme happiness with an infinite supply of mako to bring prosperity to the rest of the planet.

Is that what she wants? Wouldn't using the abundant supply of mako energy make her just the same as her father and brother? That's not what Avalanche had been fighting for. They trusted her enough with their plans, with their vague secrets. She can't betray them now, not after Cait Sith . . .

When Tseng eventually comes out of the bathroom, he walks right over to her and plucks the Keystone out of her hands, placing it back in the safety of his bag.

For a moment, seeing him pace around the room and ready himself for bed, Charlie's heart aches something painful. It reminds her of days spent together in the villa or at her home in Midgar, reminds her of when they had been their own little family. She had once relished the idea of sharing something with Tseng like she had with Veld, something private and intimate, something no one else had with them.

"You haven't asked me any questions," he says distractedly, looking at her reflection in the mirror as he brushes his hair. "I'm surprised at you."

Propped up against the headboard, having taken all the pillows but one, she crosses her arms. "I didn't think you'd give me any answers," she counters. "And if you did, you'd just be lying anyway."

"You don't know that."

"How long have you been in contact with Cait Sith?"

"Longer than you might think."

"See? That's not an answer!" Charlie huffs. Just when he seems all right, he frustrates her again. "Who is he? Who is he really?"

"I don't think I should say."

"Does my brother know that you're taking me to the Temple of the Ancients?"

"Certainly not," he answers. "The president has been very withdrawn since you left him behind in Rocket Town."

Charlie pauses, pulling her knees to her chest. "Is he all right?"

"He's heartbroken." It's a statement, but it's certainly not an accusation. "Besides that, he's perfectly well."

"Are you going to take me back to Midgar afterwards?"

"I don't know yet."

"Worried about me?"

"Your brother was content to leave you in a cell for days when Reno brought you home from Gongaga," Tseng replies carefully, as if expecting Rufus to be listening in on them. It's out of his character to go against, or even speak against, her brother. That's how she knows it's serious. "I will admit to a degree of concern about what he might do to keep you from leaving again, and I think Reno shares those concerns . . . which would explain why he let you walk away from Wutai."

It worries her. Tseng's fear has a deep effect on her, and she's afraid that he's right, afraid of what her brother might do to keep her in Midgar, to keep her from leaving. Would he hurt her? Would he kill her?

She rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs, getting comfortable on the edge of the bed, putting her back to the other side of it and wanting to put as much space between them as possible. Maybe she will sleep on the floor, if only out of pure spite. "I'm going to sleep."

Tseng turns the light off, but she can hear him still walking around the room for a little, messing around in his bag, folding clothes. She hears the unmistakable sound of him putting his gun on the nightstand, and then the sounds of Elena tossing and turning on the other side of the shared wall.

"How did you find Wutai?" he says quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"It wasn't a vacation," she hisses, feeling him slip underneath the blankets. Charlie closes her eyes and almost starts crying. She had never been more scared than she felt with Don Corneo pressing a gun to her head, threatening to kill her in front of people she cared about. "Why weren't you there with them? I was confident that you would come for me."

"I was tracking Sephiroth."

"Well, you're lucky that someone came for me, at least."

"Yes, I did hear about the condition Don Corneo was in when he was brought to Headquarters." Tseng hesitates, very quiet. "Half-dead and brutalized, and currently in a medically induced coma that Shinra's doctors have put him in. There were very traumatic brain injuries noted upon his initial examination. Reno has no self-control. You know him—he'll never pass up the opportunity to put on a show."

"You used to be the same way," she mutters, burying her face into her pillow. "Perhaps you still are. I don't recall ever asking you to go to Rocket Town in order to brutalize someone there that I care about."

"That was different," he replies quickly, sounding not at all ashamed of himself. "I would not have been doing my job if I hadn't made sure you were not hiding in Rocket Town—"

"You knew damn well that I wasn't in Rocket Town—"

"And I was one-hundred-percent certain when I left Rocket Town. It's my job to make sure every possibility is considered."

"So you broke his jaw over a dirty magazine?" Charlie scoffs, rolling over to look at him. He's lying on his back, one hand underneath his eyes, his eyes closed. "You had no right to do that. If I didn't want people looking at me, I wouldn't have done the photo shoot in the first place."

Tseng opens his eyes, turning his head to face her. "Just because you think he's charming doesn't mean anything. He's disrespectful—towards Shinra Incorporated and towards you, the very two things whose reputations I have sworn to uphold."

Charlie grits her teeth and tries to get comfortable again. She's certain that Elena can likely hear their entire argument very clearly from the other side of the wall. Every little groan or creak or cough is clearly audible to Charlie.

"If anyone is disrespectful towards me, it's you," she snaps. "You've always treated me differently than Rufus. You've always seen me as beneath him. Beneath you."

"You don't believe that."

All right, no, maybe she doesn't really believe that. Tseng has always done as she's asked, has always protected her, has always seen to her needs and wants. She tries to think of when that relationship had crossed from casual and professional to friendly and intimate.

She supposes it was a few nights he had returned from Modeoheim, bringing the news with him that Angeal would not be coming back. Charlie had been in bed when she heard the knock on her apartment door, and somehow she had known exactly who was at her door and why he was there so late at night.

Charlie was crying already when she had opened the door for Tseng. There had been something very sad about him that night. "Let's talk, Charlotte," he had said, and it was the first time he had called her anything other than 'Miss Shinra'.

"Why did you lie to me about Veld?" she whispers, hoping this conversation goes unheard, but she isn't sure if they'll get another chance like this to talk.

"No. We're not talking about this."

She could scream. She wants to scream as loud as she can, for as long as she can. She has to fight the urge to reach out and throttle him, to thread fingers through his dark hair and give his head a sharp tug, just to show him how frustrated she is, just to show him who's really in charge, just to remind him of who she is.

That's what Rufus would do. I'm not Rufus.

Lying has only made things worse for her lately. Internalizing things had ruined her relationship with Reeve. If she's going to start being honest, she may as well start with someone she trusts with her life.

Even before she speaks, Charlie feels the heat rise to her cheeks. "You made me feel like I was nothing," she tells him, and she can't deny that saying it outloud feels good. "I thought we were family—you, me, and Veld. And when Veld left, I thought . . ."

He's quiet for a long time, clearly uncomfortable, so still that Charlie fears he's fallen asleep while she was talking. "You thought what?"

"I don't know," she confesses, sighing. "I don't even know what a real family is. Veld used to tell me . . ." Charlie glances at him. She can hardly see him, only able to see his shadow. "He used to tell me that family is who you surround yourself with, and who looks out for you when no one else does."

"That sounds like something he would say."

They lapse back into silence. Charlie looks up at the ceiling, completely cast in shadow. "I miss him," she breathes, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "I miss him so much."

She wants to say more—so much more. She wants to tell Tseng how she really feels, and how Veld had been the first man to break her heart, and how she loves them both despite everything, despite what they've done, despite how much they've hurt her.

It's hard for her. She doesn't know why. Maybe it comes after years of holding everything in to keep her father from lashing out. Maybe it's because she's a coward. Maybe she's afraid of being rejected, of hearing that Tseng has never loved her, that Veld never loved her, that it had all been for show, to keep her happy.

Rolling over onto her side, Charlie puts her back to him again. It doesn't really matter—it's not like he'll be able to see her crying in the darkness anyway.

"I'm not good at this, and I never have been. You know that better than anyone, Charlotte," he says after she's been quiet for too long. "If you want comfort, I doubt you'll find any with me."

"You're an idiot," she sighs, closing her eyes and pulling the blanket up to her chin. "You don't know anything about women, do you?"

Tseng shifts uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She expects an excuse, an apology for not being suited to properly handling damaged, insecure, petty women who are desperate for comfort after feeling like the world is taking away all the people she loves, one by one. She expects some half-assed apology about kidnapping her, about taking her away from the people who took care of her, who watched her back for her.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you when you were being held in Midgar," he explains. "Your plan to seek me out . . . I'm very flattered that you think you might find safety with me, and your assumption that you would be safe with me is entirely correct, however . . ."

She can almost feel him blushing. Surely he's uncomfortable, and she shouldn't press him, but she wants to hear. Tseng has never been someone who has willingly opened up, never someone who has willingly shown weakness or vulnerability (they're the same thing to him). Even when offering her comfort in regards to Angeal, Tseng had hardly spoken, instead allowing her to cry into his chest for as long as she considered necessary.

"Your brother will kill the both of us if he suspects something."

"I know," she says, and she covers her face with a hand as tears spring to her eyes. "It's why I left Reeve. I was afraid that Rufus would hurt him."

"If it's any consolation, the director is safe, and I don't think your brother means him harm."

Relief washes over her, the knowledge that leaving him hadn't been for nothing. It was wrong of her to involve Reeve in her family affairs from the start. It was wrong to let herself get so attached, and it was wrong to let him get so attached to her. It never would have ended well. It would always have ended in tears, in someone being hurt, in heartache.

Charlie thinks she knows now what Tseng was trying to say.

"Wutai was so lovely," she cries, humiliated and exhausted. "It was just like you said."

"I'll take you back when this is all over."

"It will never be over," she sniffles, wiping her tears on her pillow, "not while Rufus lives."

"Charlotte . . ." He groans, like this is the last thing he wants to ask in the world. "What happened the last night you were in your cell? What happened after I turned the cameras off?"

"Nothing," she whispers, and she knows Tseng likely doesn't believe her.

Something had happened, though not what Tseng thinks, and it would be too difficult to explain to him the pain of lying there, forced to relive memories long forgotten, forced to come to the realization that her brother will stop at nothing to have her.

"Nothing happened," she says one more time, just to make that very clear. She's a proficient liar, but he has always been able to tell. "Good-night."

There's a long silence that's uncharacteristically uncomfortable. She knows what he's thinking. It's what everyone thinks, everyone who knows her and Rufus.

"Good-night," he tells her, sighing heavily.

She wakes to the sound of his phone ringing. It's still dark outside.

He hardly responds. Charlie has to reach out blindly to find his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Are you going to answer that?" she moans softly.

Tseng stirs, slipping his arm out from underneath Charlie's pillow and cursing under his breath. It takes him a few seconds to answer, and she tries to hear whose voice comes from the other line, but it's impossible to hear. Reeve was always like that on the phone, always talking quietly, as if afraid someone was listening.

He hums a few times, and her eyes flutter open when he finally says, "She's here . . . yes, she's all right . . . she's still sleeping . . ."

"Who is it?" she asks quickly and quietly, propping herself onto an elbow.

Tseng glances over his shoulder at her, the light from his phone blinding, making his skin appear ghostly white. He hesitates, listening to the other person again, and then holds out the phone for her.

Charlie frowns. "Who is it?" she asks again.

"Tell the director you're all right, before he becomes convinced that I've killed you."

She snatches the phone from his hand so quickly that it nearly falls from her fingers. Her heart stutters, and she looks down at the screen to read the name TUESTI across it. She holds it up to her ear.

"Reeve?"

"Charlie," he says, a soft little sigh as if he hadn't believed she was there at all. "Are you all right?"

His voice makes her cry without warning, without her permission. She hasn't heard his voice in what feels like a long time. It's still so comforting, her favorite voice in the world. "I'm okay. What about you? Are you safe?"

"Of course I am," is his reply, so casual and so calm that it knocks the wind out of her. She thought he might hate her, might never want to talk to her again. "I'm so glad you're all right."

Charlie lifts her eyes to meet Tseng's gaze. He doesn't seem in a terrible rush to get her off the phone. He examines his fingernails, turning away from her.

"Reeve, I am so sorry for getting you involved in all of this—"

"Involved in what?"

"In everything," she continues, wanting to say everything, but knowing she doesn't have the time. "With me, with Rufus, with my father and his company—"

"None of that is your fault," he reassures her. Ever the gentleman, even after she had left him without an explanation. "Charlotte, why did you leave?"

She doesn't answer right away, but she knows she needs to tell him. He needs to know the truth. "I was afraid," she admits softly. "I was afraid of Rufus, of him hurting you . . ." Charlie glances at Tseng again, blushing. "I was afraid of all the secrets we were keeping from each other."

"Then come home, and we'll talk about it. Don't worry about me." The offer is so tempting—the offer to return to her old lifestyle, to fall asleep beside him at night and wake in his arms, to kiss him again, to love him.

"Reeve, I—" Her cheeks feel hot. "I can't—"

"Whatever it is, Charlie, it's all right."

"You were right about him," she sighs, holding her head in her free hand. "You were right about Rufus the whole time, but I . . ."

"It's all right. Whatever happened, we'll get through it, but you need to come home. I want to see you again."

Charlie knows that she will not return to Midgar. Tseng will have to drag her corpse back if that's the way it has to be. She will not go back to Rufus. Not again.

Her heartbroken little brother . . . alone . . . the image of him crying against her floats to the forefront of her mind.

No, she tells herself, I can't go back. That's what he wants. If I go back, he wins.

"Enough," Tseng whispers, holding his hand out.

"I have to go," she tells Reeve, wiping away the tears that leak down her cheeks. They're hot against her skin, and she wishes she hadn't said anything to Reeve in the first place. It hurts too much. "I'm sorry."

"Charlie . . ."

They're both quiet for what feels like forever. She wants to tell him that she loves him, and nothing has changed that. Before she does or says anything foolish, however, she gives the phone back to Tseng and lies back down against her pillows, chewing on her lower lip as she listens to the rest of their conversation, which is mostly Tseng humming and agreeing quietly.

When he hangs up, he runs a hand through his hair. "We have a long day ahead of us," he murmurs, but he doesn't get out of bed yet himself. Tseng lies on his back, but Charlie knows she isn't going to be able to fall asleep again.

"I'm not going back to Midgar," she says hoarsely. "And if you try to bring me back, I will kill myself." It's the complete truth. A quick and clean end to things would be infinitely better than whatever her brother may have in store for her.

Tseng hardly seems surprised, nor does he seem worried. He only puts his arm behind his head again, sighing as he shifts on the bed. "I guess I won't be bringing you back to Midgar, then."

Part of her feels as if she's living on borrowed time. Either she will die fighting Sephiroth with Avalanche, or she will die in Midgar, where Charlie imagines her brother holding a pillow over her face in the middle of the night, hiding her away in some hidden room in the Shinra Building, or having one of his Turks do away with her.

If death is her future, the least she can do is make the walk with her head held high.

She isn't going to shy away from the surest form of escape she has left to her.