So this is how it ends.

Tseng looks down at his trembling hands, standing before the hospital room's window. His hands always seem to shake lately, even when he curls his fingers, pressing his fingernails into his palm so hard they draw blood.

Meteor sits in the sky, mocking him, the inevitable end creeping ever closer with every passing hour. He had survived his encounter with Sephiroth at the Temple of the Ancients, only to find that his days are now numbered, and he's stuck inside a hospital, unable to do anything about it.

The memory of it still haunts his sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes, all he can see is Sephiroth's triumphant face, the evident panic on Charlotte's face as she had held him, the aching pain of the violent scar across his abdomen. After seeing the scar in a mirror, he has taken great pains to avoid looking at it again. The very sight of it brings bile to the back of his throat, setting his esophagus on fire.

He's made his decision, though he isn't confident about it. Too much has happened too quickly, and the only information he's receiving from the outside world (or rather, the only information that matters to him at this moment) comes from Reeve, who has finally decided to take a leap of faith and defect completely from the company in order to save Charlotte from the hands of President Rufus Shinra.

Reeve had come to them begging for help, from him and Veld both, desperate to keep Charlotte away from her brother, desperate to keep her alive and well and happy, and isn't that what he wanted and didn't he love her and how could he stand by and let this happen without even trying to help her?

It had been a very tiring conversation, and Tseng's loyalty has always been unshakeable, something he prided himself in. His steadfast loyalty to Rufus Shinra is what has kept him alive all these years. To turn his back on the president would mean to turn his back on the company, going against everything he believed in and worked for during his years with the Turks.

Veld had been agreeable from the start. He was already, officially, branded a traitor, and given the lengths he was willing to go to protect his own distanced and troubled daughter, Tseng wasn't surprised to hear that Veld was so eager to protect Charlotte, as well.

But he had had doubts. How many times had he told her, it's better this way. Now, Tseng isn't certain if he had meant to reassure himself or Charlotte with that excuse. It would have been easier to keep his distance, to remain detached, to stop things before they became too intimate, too dangerous. But it had been impossible with the amount of time they had spent together, and Charlotte was so charming and so friendly and so funny that it was difficult to stifle his smiles and warm feelings towards her.

"I'm loyal to the company," he had said to both Reeve and Veld, the back of his neck very hot. "I'm their leader now, and it's my responsibility to—"

"You're loyal to Shinra," Veld reminded him, very stern, very gruff, raising his eyebrows to impress his point. "You made a promise."

Tseng closes the blinds, not wanting to look at Meteor anymore, pacing back and forth. His legs feel weak, and pacing makes him feel out of breath, when once he could walk miles without even thinking about it. He'll never be the same, and in a few days, it won't matter, because he'll be dead with the rest of the world.

It had been easy, when Charlotte and Rufus were allies and friends, when their goals aligned (for the most part).

But now, he's made his choice, made his bed, dug his grave, and he's not entirely sure it was the right decision to begin with. After everything—after all he's done to Charlotte, and after Zack, and Aerith . . .

He will not fail again.

That first evening of her capture, she's moved from her holding cell to another cell somewhere in the center of the command center, which means no windows and no sunshine and no stars.

She wouldn't even call it a cell at all. When she asks if there was something wrong with her old cell, Rufus tells her it's where he was kept for the first few months of his house arrest, sounding simultaneously proud and bitter about that fact.

It's a multi-room cell, with a private bedroom and bathroom, a kitchen and living room, televisions in every room and a fully-stocked liquor cabinet with a lock on it. There is food in the kitchen, but she lacks the cooking skills to do anything with the rich ingredients. The bedding seems clean, and there are cameras set up to observe every room in full view, the only room with any privacy being the bathroom.

There is no artwork on the walls, no decorations to make the place feel like home. Charlie can't help but feel sorry for Rufus, having to live in such a terrible place, all by himself, under constant surveillance, even while he slept. She can't imagine being confined to such a space, not even able to see the blue of the sky.

If she had known this was where Father had brought him, Charlie thinks she might have made more of an effort to get to him. He was only just sixteen at the time, or close enough, without friends or a nurturing presence in his life.

It was only after she cried to her father for months did he allow Rufus to move into the villa in Costa del Sol. Even then, Rufus had been only a boy, taking the punishment that Charlie deserved. And even then, when Charlie would visit Rufus, a Turk would always be with them, but they would find stolen moments throughout the day when no one was looking.

Rufus has brought some of her things here, as if he had prepared this place in advance. When she had first inspected the cell, she had found some of her best clothes hanging in a tall wardrobe, and her finest jewelry (all jewelry bought by Rufus himself) had been laid out at the foot of the bed.

But now, they eat dinner within the cell, at a rectangular dining table between the kitchen and living room, like today never even happened. Dark Nation rests at Rufus's feet, breathing heavily beneath the table.

Rufus refills her wine glass without needing prompting.

She's on her third glass of wine, having hardly eaten any of her food, her appetite gone. She hasn't been drunk for a while, but whatever is coming for her after dinner, she knows it will be easier with a few drinks in her.

Twenty minutes into a silent meal, Rufus asks her, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlie lifts her eyes and hesitates. "Talk about what?"

"Tseng."

Drunkenly, stupidly, she answers, "What do you want me to say? That he was a better brother to me than you ever were?"

She doesn't really know if it's true, but it earns her a beating. It's quick, a sharp tug of her hair and a hard swat across the face, and afterwards, Rufus curls up beside her in bed and falls asleep with an arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

The second day, as Rufus is away, Charlie looks everywhere for a way to escape. She looks for secret walls (not that she really expects to find any) or some kind of panic button. Dark Nation is her partner-in-crime, sniffing at her legs all day and yawning from her feet, rolling into his back once and whining for affection. Charlie can't help but oblige him, then, giving his smooth and bulky stomach a few hearty pats.

She finds nothing, and the door doesn't open no matter how much she bangs on it, screaming herself hoarse, threatening whatever guards are stationed outside, threatening whoever is watching her on the cameras.

But no one comes.

Rufus returns for dinner, displeased to find she isn't wearing any of the jewelry he had brought for her, but tonight, he tells her about the circumstances of his house arrest.

It began with Avalanche, when it became known to their father that Rufus was funding a resistance group, but the decision to lock him away here was made after Father had caught his two children tangled together in bed, half-naked and kissing and groping. He claims to have spent weeks recovering from the beating Father had given him for it, and does his best to make Charlie squirm by regaling the details of that night while she continues to drink.

Why didn't Father lock me away? she can't help but think. I was the one who instigated it most days. I was just as complicit as Rufus. I wanted him just like he wanted me.

How could she not have wanted him? He was the planet's most eligible bachelor with pink cheeks and porcelain skin, light freckles dappling the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones, charming when he chose to be and arrogantly handsome, perfect in every way.

No. No, no, no, she can't think that. This is how it happened before, with an empty household and no one to love her but him. That's what he wants, and Charlie has tried too hard to get away from him to come willingly running back into his arms now.

That night, she lies drunk on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Rufus changes into something more appropriate for sleep. She fully expects for him to take what he wants, and she's prepared to grudgingly give it to him, in the hopes that he might be gentle if she doesn't struggle.

But he does nothing of the sort, lying down for sleep beside her, snoring softly with his face pressed against the nape of her neck.

Like that, Charlie can't help but think that her brother really does love her, but it also begs the question—who's watching the cameras that Rufus trusts enough for them to see him so vulnerable, so loving with his own sister?

As far as she knows, only a handful of people are aware (to a certain degree) of the intimacy shared between herself and Rufus. Veld and Tseng had known, and seen it for themselves, but both of them are gone and forgotten now. Father is dead, and whatever he had known died with him. Reeve surely knows, and Cid has some idea, but neither of them would be watching the cameras.

She wonders if that's the only reason he hasn't taken from her already.

Silently, she blesses the watcher, not because she's afraid that Rufus might take from her, but because she's afraid that it will fill the gaping hole in her heart, afraid that she'll want him all over again, afraid that she'll fall back into his arms and allow herself to be used to his heart's pleasure.

He turns a corner with his head down, half-asleep, only to run right into someone, spilling his hot coffee down someone's front.

Thankfully, it's only Scarlet, and Reeve takes a certain amount of vindictive pleasure from the sight of her dripping in coffee, scowling and thoroughly annoyed.

"Are you blind or just stupid?" she snarls in his face, the exposed skin of her chest bright pink from the heat of the coffee. She tries to wipe it off, but only ends up smearing it around and making it worse.

"Aw," he smiles, amazed with how much joy he derives from seeing her so frustrated. "I think it's a good look for you."

Scarlet smiles pointedly, ignoring the coffee that continues to drip onto the carpet off her dress. The Shinra Building is surprisingly empty so early in the morning, which is a real shame because it would be even more amusing to have witnesses to such a scene. He supposes he should at least offer her something to clean herself up with, but decides against it.

"You're awfully smug this morning, Director," she notes, tilting her head slightly. "I thought you might have already flung yourself at the president's feet upon hearing the news."

Reeve falters, the smile vanishing from his face. "Sorry, what?"

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Scarlet keeps smiling, this time a little more genuinely, adjusting his tie. Reeve squirms, swatting her hands away. "Your precious little Charlotte is due to be executed within the week, the filthy traitor."

He feels the blood drain from his face, his heart stopping. "What?" he croaks, hardly able to speak.

"Gods, you're droll. And close your mouth, would you?"

"Where—where did you—who told you that?"

Scarlet crosses her arms over her coffee-stained chest, cocking a penciled eyebrow. "Heidegger, of course. He's been spending a lot of time with the president these days."

Reeve blinks at her. She has to be lying. She's upset about the coffee and is trying to hurt him.

But he isn't going to take that chance. Despite having just returned from Junon last night, Reeve finds himself jumping into a helicopter not fifteen minutes later, headed back to the city in the hopes of stopping an execution.

"I need to speak to the president."

"Sorry, Director." Heidegger smiles grimly, as if already knowing what Reeve wishes to discuss with Rufus. He can't think of any reason as to why Heidegger might bear such contempt for Charlie, but he thinks it may have something to do with the way her father treated her in plain view of the director for years. "President Shinra is only seeing those with appointments."

Reeve runs a hand through his hair, prepared to shoot Heidegger down where he stands, looking over a grunt's shoulder at a monitor that shows the progress of the Sister Ray, which stands pretty over the polluted water of Junon Harbor.

"I don't have time for this," he snaps, further angered when Heidegger continues to ignore him. "Where's the president?"

"It's not my job to keep tabs on the president, Reeve."

Arguing will only prolong him, so Reeve tracks down a few infantrymen and gently interrogates them until he finds who he's looking for.

Palmer has his feet up in an empty break room, drinking hot tea as he combs through a newspaper. Anger must show on Reeve's face, because when Palmer looks up and notices he's no longer alone, he begins to panic, trying to escape the break room only to find himself cornered.

"Where is the president?" Reeve asks coldly. "I need to speak with him."

Flattening himself as much as he can against the wall, Palmer begins to shake as Reeve approaches him slowly. "If you're here to try to stop Char's exe—"

Reeve reaches behind himself, pulling out the handgun that had been tucked into his belt. "I'm not going to ask again," he says, stepping closer to Palmer, who sweats very nervously. "Tell me where Rufus is, and tell me now. I don't have time to wander around all day."

"Don't think the president won't hear about this!" Palmer's eyes flick to the gun. "Threatening a colleague! Really, Reeve, I thought you had better se—"

The side of Reeve's handgun connects violently with the side of Palmer's face. There's a sharp, painful cry that sounds more like a wounded animal, and Palmer drops to the ground, sobbing as he holds his bleeding face in his hands.

"He's in the barracks! Gods, he's in the barracks!"

Inhaling deeply, Reeve tucks the gun back into his belt, nodding and backing away, leaving Palmer to cry alone on the floor.

Reeve does, in fact, find Rufus within an office in the barracks, listening distractedly to a commander's many complaints about Heidegger. He lets himself into the office without knocking, and when Rufus lifts his eyes to see Reeve, he dismisses the captain in the middle of his speech, scowling when he lingers a second too long.

"We need to talk, Mr. President," he urges, moving forward to sit down on the opposite side of the desk, curling and uncurling his fingers, wiping his clammy palms on his pants.

"Let's drop the formalities, shall we? You've heard about Char, I assume?"

"I have."

"And you raced here very quickly, it seems. What exactly have you heard, Reeve?"

"That you plan to have her executed within the week."

Rufus shrugs noncommittally, not correcting him. "She is a criminal, and is being treated as such."

"She at least deserves a chance to explain herself—a—a trial or something." Reeve's heart beats a painful tattoo against his chest, threatening to burst. Part of him feels that he's seen this coming for years, a last ditch effort by Rufus to secure Charlotte for himself, but Charlie had always been so certain that Rufus would never go that far, would never really hurt her. "She loves you, and you would betray her in the worst possible sense. She trusted you!"

"Betray her?" Rufus snaps, standing abruptly. Reeve pushes himself to his feet, not wanting to be caught in a vulnerable sitting position. "She has betrayed me, in every sense of the word. She betrayed me the moment I found you two together in bed. She betrayed me the moment she agreed to marry you. She betrayed me when she ran away from the perfect life I was willing to offer her."

Reeve almost scoffs—almost. It would be dangerous to do something so reckless now, when the simplest thing might set Rufus off. "She ran away because she was frightened of you!" he protests, unable to stop himself. He will not let Rufus take Charlotte away. "She didn't betray you, Rufus. Since the moment I met her, I don't think I've ever heard her say a bad word about you, even when you were awful to her—"

"Careful, Director," Rufus spits, gritting his teeth and making his way around the desk. "I would think very carefully about the next words to come out of your mouth."

He knows he should walk away, especially with Rufus positioning himself directly in front of him, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms over his chest, waiting for some smug remark, no doubt. He knows that it's in his and Charlie's best interests to walk away, knows that there will be consequences, but the words are pulled from his mouth without his permission.

"You want to blame everyone for Charlie's desire to leave," Reeve says breathlessly. "But you're the reason she left. You're the reason she ran away. The blame lies with—"

It all happens so quickly that the only thing he can say next is, "Fuck!"

There's a sickening crunch! as Rufus's knuckles connect with Reeve's nose. His hands jump to his face as Reeve stumbles backwards over the chair he had been sitting in, thankfully catching himself before he tumbles to the ground. Warm blood flows down his face and into his mouth, staining his fingers. His face throbs in time with his heart, aching painfully.

Rufus gives his right hand a shake. "I've been waiting years to do that," he confesses flatly. "I think we're done here, Director. It's time for you to return to Midgar, where you belong."

For a brief moment, the idea takes hold of him. His gun presses against the small of his back, and Reeve wonders how lucky he might get if he were to pull it out, to shoot Rufus dead, to end this madness once and for all before things go any further.

But truthfully, Reeve doesn't think he would have to stomach to shoot Charlie's little brother, no matter how horrible he is.

"At least let me say good-bye to her." Reeve's voice is muffled against his palm, but Rufus seems to understand him well enough. "We were together for years, engaged to be married . . . you're not going to let me say good-bye?"

If he could just tell her to hold on a little longer . . . if he could just let her know that no one has forgotten about her, that they're coming for her . . .

"She doesn't even know that you've been spying on her," Rufus laughs, like it's the funniest thing in the world. Does he underestimate Charlie's deduction abilities so much? She had known it was him because of a simple exchange of a few words between himself and Tseng, but it's better this way. "What would she say, I wonder? Where is your friend anyway?"

"In Midgar," he lies swiftly, trying to determine whether or not the president believes him. "I have no use for him anymore. Everyone split off and went home after you let them go."

"Good." Rufus's eyes sweep up and down Reeve, lingering on his bloody face and broken nose. "It means they know what will happen if they try to save Char."

They're forced to wait.

Cait Sith is, unfortunately, right—they can't make a proper move until Tifa is awake, which means leaving Lottie behind with a brother that's completely insane, and hoping that Rufus doesn't schedule her execution prior to Tifa's waking.

The plan is simple enough, but Cid can't help but think that things will likely go horribly wrong. Even the cat had admitted they might need to consider some back-up plans, but several of their companions have little to no knowledge about the layout of Junon's Command Center, so planning is left primarily to Cait Sith, Vincent, and himself.

In theory, the plan even sounds good, if not a little vague. Cait Sith had quickly discussed the fact that he had decided to recruit outside help in regards to Charlie (but wouldn't tell them who), who will be Vincent's responsibility. Cid and Nanaki will secure the Highwind while Cait Sith rescues Tifa and Barret. Yuffie will be keeping watch incognito until she joins up with Cait Sith, Barret, and Tifa.

With a strong enough diversion, it's entirely possible for them to be in and out within ten minutes, so long as Cid is ready by then to extract them.

"How're we gonna know when Tifa wakes up anyway?" Yuffie asks them once.

"Don't worry, don't worry," Cait Sith had reassured her. "I'll be informed the minute she's awake, and then we'll put our plan into action."

"And if Charlie is scheduled to be executed before that?" Yuffie asks again.

Cait Sith hesitates. "Then we'll have to tweak our plans, is all."

The first thing that needs to be assessed is the Highwind itself. They need to know how quickly Cid will be able to reach the airship, how many pilots and engineers and guards might be lingering around it, how many men are inside during different times of the day.

Cait Sith is able to get his hands on the airport's floor plans, but given that the Shinra suit is back in Midgar, the cat is forced to draw a crude picture that's actually not so horrible, but Cid doesn't really like complimenting someone who still works for Shinra after all the shit they've been through. It's enough to give Cid an idea of what to do, however, and he's eager to depart that very minute.

The third night is when things are slowly put into action.

They move under cover of darkness out of the small village, slipping into Under Junon during the wee hours of the night. Nanaki and Yuffie, quickly recognized by some of the locals, are able to secure them a place to plan and rest, a place to utilize as their "base" while they wait.

By morning, Cid and Vincent are prepared to infiltrate the command center for a recon mission.

To begin, they recruit a little girl named Priscille, who talks for six consecutive minutes about Cloud. She's eager for the job (if it helps Cloud, of course), and agrees to their plan.

With two guards standing outside the elevator that leads to Upper Junon, they need to clear the way first. Hidden in between two shops, Cid can hear Priscilla shouting a short distance away, running towards the guards.

"Help! Help! A monster!"

"A monster?" says one of the guards. "I don't see a monster. Where?"

"This way, mister! Down there! I saw it! I saw it!" the girl shouts again, leading them both towards Cid and Vincent, who promptly put them down (out of sight from Priscilla, of course, not wanting to traumatize the poor girl).

The two of them quickly undress the guards, removing their uniforms and searching their pockets for keycards or money or anything else that might be useful. Stripped down to their boxers, Cid and Vincent drag the bodies a little ways away and dump them unceremoniously into the shallow graves that were dug a few hours ago, where Yuffie and Cait Sith are waiting to cover them up. Nanaki lies patiently in the shade, unable to hold a shovel.

"Y'know, I feel kinda uncomfortable havin' you do this," Cait Sith says to Yuffie, just as they pick up the shovels. "Aren't you like, fourteen or something?"

"I'm sixteen, and I grew up in war-torn Wutai. Don't act like I've never seen a dead body before." Yuffie groans as she throws some dirt into one of the graves. "What're you? Like fifty-something?"

"Okay, I'm not that old," Cait Sith replies, and the two of them are still grumbling to each other as Cid and Vincent change into the freshly stolen Shinra uniforms.

Yuffie looks up from her finished grave just as Cid takes his shirt off, keeping his undershirt on to keep a thin barrier between his skin and the guard's sweaty uniform. "Okay," she teases, sticking her tongue out at him, "I see why Charlie likes you now."

"Why? She say somethin' to you?" Cid wriggles his eyebrows at her, putting the top half of his uniform on.

"It's not really what she said," Yuffie shrugs. "But I catch her looking. She thinks she's sneaky." While she waits for Cait Sith to finish filling up the other grave, she wrestles with Nanaki, ignoring his weak protests, all the while, needling Cid. "Did you kiss her, Cid?"

"I might've."

"Yeah," Yuffie laughs, wrapping her arm around Nanaki's neck and holding him in place, rolling around in the dirt, "you seem like the kind of guy a rich girl like her pisses her dad off with."

"How do you figure?" Nanaki asks, gasping for breath as Yuffie releases him.

"Uh, 'cause he's exactly the type of guy that I'd use to piss off my dad."

Cid frowns, exchanging an amused look with Vincent, who pulls a helmet over his head. "Fuck off, Yuffie," he sighs, pulling his own helmet on. "S'been a while since I wore one of these." Laughing nervously, he slings the rifle over his shoulder. "How do we look?"

"Unrecognizable," Nanaki answers.

"Perfect. Just the look I was goin' for." Cid glances at Cait Sith as the second grave is filled. "What'cha think, Cait? Awfully quiet over there. Is it bad?"

"No, it'll work fine. You should get going."

Cid thinks the cat sounds a little annoyed, but doesn't have the time to dwell on it.

He and Vincent ride the elevator in silence. Cait Sith had given them a time limit of two hours. If they aren't back in two hours, then it's safe to assume something is wrong. If something is wrong, Cait Sith had given them a location to reach for an escape plan, but Cid's confident that no one is going to realize anything is off while they're wearing these itchy fucking uniforms.

Upper Junon is very busy, preparing for the public execution of Avalanche's top three members, but Cid doesn't get a very good look at what's going on. They avoid the main streets and keep to back alleys and side streets, heading straight towards the airport, where the Highwind is kept.

It's rather empty here, but no one seems to think them out of place. In fact, they're able to walk right up to the airship without any problems at all (in about seven minutes), which is good, because Cid is about to make a problem.

With the inside of the Highwind completely empty, Cid takes his helmet off upon reaching the bridge, pulling a screwdriver from his pocket and opening a panel below the monitors for the pilot controls, revealing a shit ton of tangled wires that certainly weren't there last time he was aboard the airship.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, hesitating as he tries to figure out which wire would be the safest to snip. He just needs to keep the airship grounded until they're ready to save Charlie and the others, and he needs to do that by fucking something up that he'll be able to fix quickly in order to steal it for himself. If he fucks up and cuts something really important, they're all fucked. "Goddamn . . . son of a . . . piece of . . ."

"Is something wrong?" Vincent asks.

"Nothin'! I got it, all right?" Cid snaps back, very aware of Vincent hovering right over his left shoulder. "Just give me some fuckin' space so I can do this right—shit—"

"What are you doing?" Vincent kneels at his side, examining the wires sticking out.

"It looks a little different than I remember it—"

"Can you do it?"

Cid scoffs in his face, scowling. "Of course I can do it. I built this fuckin' thing, you know. You just gotta . . . well, I should just . . . now, this one here . . . this one might . . ."

"If you're uncertain, then we should return tomorrow with another plan."

"I got it! Damn! Stop micromanaging me—"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"I ain't gonna make any mistakes! Leave me alone, Vince!"

"Um, excuse me?"

Cid jumps, remembering too late that he's taken his helmet off. When he whirls around, it's to find three men staring wide-eyed at him, unarmed and wearing engineer uniforms. "Just doin' a little maintenance," he lies quickly, flashing them an awkward smile and holding up the screwdriver in his hand. "And if you don't mind, I work better when there ain't no fuckin' jackasses needlin' me while I do it."

"Wait a minute!" The man in the middle steps forward, fat and sweating, looking at Cid like he's got a third fucking head. "C—Captain? Captain Cid? Is that you?"

Cid and Vincent look at each other quickly. His mouth hangs open as he stutters, unsure of how to respond. "Yee . . . esss?"

"Captain Cid! It's really you!" the engineer answers brightly. "Don't you remember us? We helped you and Miss Shinra build the Highwind!" His expression suddenly changes very quickly to something more grim. "Real shame 'bout Miss Shinra, isn't it? Who would have thought she'd be involved with a terrorist cell—"

"Hey, hey, hey, watch it," Cid growls, stepping forward despite Vincent's warning hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him. "I don't think you know what the hell you're talkin' 'bout."

"What have you heard?" Vincent interrupts them before they can answer Cid. "Have they set a date for her execution yet?"

"If you ask me, there's no point in an execution," sighs another engineer. "We're all gonna die once that giant meteor hits the planet anyway."

"What kind of talk is that?" Cid scoffs, putting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. "You can't just give up now! S'long as it stays in the sky, there's gotta be hope!" He gives the base of the pilot controls a kick. "Damn. They're really gonna execute her, huh?"

"That's what Heidegger said, Captain, sir," says the third engineer. "For treason, he said."

"Treason!" Cid lets out a 'ha!'. "She's been out tryin' to save the world—not that Heidegger would know anything 'bout that! I dunno what kinda shit they've been fillin' your head with, but Lottie ain't a traitor. She's a good kid and her heart's in the right place, most of the time."

He thinks of her, probably alone in a cell, probably thinking all of her friends abandoned her. The idea gets him fired up, the idea that some Shinra fucking suit might be spreading gossip throughout the ranks to make her look bad.

"And she's so goddamned smart," he continues, looking around the bridge of the Highwind, remembering days spent admiring her at work, "and she's creative and insightful and determined, but she ain't a traitor, and I—" Cid catches himself, flushing heatedly—"Fuck, I am sayin' a lot of words right now."

The engineers are looking awkwardly at him.

"Goddamn it, that's why we gotta save her!" Cid shouts, throwing all pretense out the window. These are Charlie's men. These are his men. "And I need the Highwind to do it so we can stop this fuckin' meteor from killin' us!"

Vincent inhales audibly. "Cid—!"

"You're gonna save the vice president and the world?" the second engineer asks, furrowing his brows together. "And you need the Highwind to do it?"

"Isn't that what I just said? Do I need to repeat myself?" Cid hisses, trying his best to sound authoritative.

"N—no, Captain!" the first man replies, straightening and saluting him. "In fact, I'd like to help, sir!"

"Me too, Captain!"

"And me!"

Cid blinks stupidly at them, unable to believe what he's hearing. Looking sideways at Vincent, he smiles. "Oh, this'll be a hell of a lot easier than we thought."

He doesn't get back in time to have dinner with her that night.

Charlie is fast asleep in bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts and silent. Rufus knows that she's still breathing. She's always been a quiet sleeper.

And then she inhales deep, her breath stuttering slightly, like she's been crying.

Rufus slips his shoes off, takes his suit jacket off (still speckled with some of Reeve's blood), and sits down beside her without waking her.

He's not stupid. He knows that Charlie hates it here. He hears her crying in the bathroom at night when she thinks he's asleep, and sometimes he can hear her sniffling into her pillow.

Truthfully, Rufus hates it here, too. He can't help but remember the months he had spent here, with no one for company but a Turk (Tseng, more often than not) for one or two hours every day, always being watched through the cameras. He remembers nights spent alone in bed, aching for his own sister, touching himself and looking right into the cameras as he did so, daring them to intrude upon his private moment, deriving great pleasure from the fact that no one would ever know who it was he was fantasizing about.

He brushes the backs of his fingers along her cheek, her skin smooth. She stirs at his touch, moaning softly before her eyes flutter open. When she looks at him, her eyes still glazed over with sleep, her expression is not one of contempt or hatred, allowing him to continue touching her face without protest or struggle.

It hadn't really been the flagrant lack of respect that made Rufus hit Reeve. That had been part of it, to be sure, but it was the idea that Reeve was telling the truth that sent him into a frenzy.

Does he really want to kill Charlie? No, not really. But she's left him no other option, and with that fool Heidegger having announced to nearly all of Junon that Charlotte Shinra is going to be executed, Rufus knows that he can't change his mind now. If he doesn't follow through with his decision to punish her, he'll never be respected again.

Not that Heidegger respects him much, but he's afraid of Rufus. It's easy to control Heidegger when he thinks himself a single wrong word away from death.

"Good-night," he whispers, bending over to kiss her forehead. She falls back asleep almost immediately. Rufus covers her with another blanket and leaves the room, grateful that no one is watching him, bearing witness to such humiliating weakness.

Even knowing how close she is to death, Rufus still can't find it in his heart to take her for himself. Every time he thinks he's ready, he can't help but think of their time together as children. They had looked after each other, had cared for each other, had provided each other with the love that Father would not give them.

Charlie has given him so much, that it almost feels too greedy asking for anything more. He only wants her to feel loved these last few days, but she's making it so difficult.

He had tried to be kind already, tried asking about Tseng, knowing that she might want to get it off her chest. Instead, she had taken offense, claimed that Tseng had been a better brother to her, and it had sent him into a burning rage.

Yet even as he had dragged Charlie to the floor by the hair, striking her across the face as his heart imploded, she had been screaming at him, red in the face and sobbing.

"You left him behind!" She had fought him the entire time, kicking her legs and trying to claw at his face. "You just left him there! He was your friend!"

Rufus stands in the doorway for a minute, watching her sleep. He pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

He thought Cloud might come back for her and her friends. He thought the others might have made a move, had even expected Reeve to rally troops loyal to Char. But it's been four days, and Cloud is still missing, and Meteor is in the sky, and it's highly likely that they'll all be dead in a few days, if not killed by a Weapon first.

He takes a private car back to the apartment where Charlie had stayed with him for the inauguration parade. All night he hears her voice, echoing inside his head, over and over and over again.

. . . just like Father . . . just like Father . . . just like Father . . . just like Father . . .

Tseng laughs dryly.

Reeve lifts his eyes from the blueprints he has spread out on the table. "Is something funny?"

With a long index finger, Tseng points to the luxury cell that houses Charlotte. "It's the same cell her brother was kept in during the first part of his house arrest," he explains. "Cameras in each room, save for the bathroom. There's a lock on the outside that's operated by keycard."

"Who has keycards?"

"Very probably the president."

"But if we cut the power, we might still have a few seconds before the generators kick in," Reeve says, and Veld nods slowly, looking down at the blueprints, scratching at the rough beard growing in on his face. "We could get her out that way, under cover of darkness."

"Seconds," Tseng repeats, narrowing his eyes. "It's impossible. The door locks from the inside, and it's unlikely she'll move quickly enough to escape before it locks you both inside. And if you do get her out, do you plan on parading her down the main street? Everyone in the command center will recognize her immediately."

"I'm sorry if my plan isn't good enough for you. I'm juggling quite a bit at the moment, but if you have a better idea, then go on." Reeve scowls, noticing Tseng's eyes lingering on his broken nose and bruised face.

"Of course I have a better idea." Tseng smiles smugly, fingertips lightly touching the place where his scar is underneath his shirt.

Reeve feels sorry for asking him for help, knowing that the wound must still hurt, but Tseng has been getting frustrated being cooped up in a hospital with nothing to do. He's eager to return to work, which is impossible for the moment, as everyone still thinks him dead.

"There's an access code to override the lock, in case of emergencies," he continues, giving his shoulders a slight shrug.

"And who would have the access code?" Reeve asks again, growing impatient.

"The Turk who spent a few solid months coming and going from that place," Veld answers for Tseng, probably to keep tempers from running too high. "Or even the Turks' leader."

"Well, that's fantastic news. What's the code?"

"No," Tseng says, shaking his head. "I'll handle that myself. What happens when you get her out of the cell?"

Reeve hesitates, unsure of what the both of them might think about this next part. "Avalanche is going to steal the Highwind, and Charlie will be on it when it leaves Junon. The crew is still very loyal to her and Cid, and they've agreed to help us. There's going to be a minor mutiny the day of the execution. They're all just waiting for the signal."

Tseng is quiet for a moment, bracing himself upon the table, looking down at the blueprints. He waits for the sound of conversation to pass by the other side of the door before answering. "Okay. When?"

"When Tifa wakes up. Rude has someone watching the cameras. He's going to notify me the moment she's awake. That's when the execution is planned for."

Veld seems nervous. Reeve supposes it's the idea of Charlotte's public execution that makes him uneasy. "We'll need uniforms to get in."

"I can get uniforms."

"Where are we supposed to meet Vincent?"

"Here." Reeve points to another room on the paper. "He's going to block off this corridor here, have her change into a uniform, and then they can escape the back way without encountering much trouble. An engineer is going to have a car waiting out back to take them to the airport."

Veld sighs. "You realize the chances of this being successful are slim to none, son?"

He won't lie and pretend he hasn't thought about it. "I know, but we have to try."