"My legs are—burning—"

"I—can't breathe—"

"Have I told you—yet that you—look great?"

"Wait until—you see the—back of me—"

"Already seen it—and loved—it—"

"Reeve Tuesti, who are you?"

"I'm only—trying to be more—honest—"

"It is the end—of the world—isn't it?"

"Gods—I hope not—"

Despite her inability to speak a full sentence without feeling on the verge of passing out, the race back down the emergency stairwell is much louder than her climb had been with Tseng.

She clings to his sweaty hand (though it very well could be hers), fingers twined together, her heart beating so fast and so hard that it would be impossible for Reeve not to hear it echoing throughout the stairwell. As they reach the twenty-first floor landing, she begins to slow, her hand slipping from his.

The longer the silence stretches, however, the clearer her thoughts become. The silence is suffocating, and she's panicking, and Rufus might be dead and Tseng might never come back and it'll be all her fault.

Reeve is halfway down the next staircase when he realizes she's no longer just behind him, turning around with a short exhale and leaping back to the landing.

"Are you all right?" He takes hold of her hand again, squeezing tight. "We're almost there."

Charlie shakes her head, looking up into his face. His hair is a mess, slicked back with sweat and sticking to his cheeks. His chest is heaving, breath coming in short little gasps, but he's already pulling her towards the stairs again. "I can't—"

"Yes, you can. We're more than halfway there now—"

"No, I . . ." She pulls away, her back bumping against the cold wall. "Oh . . . he's dead, isn't he?"

"We don't know that—"

"He's not answering any calls, there's no sign of him anywhere, and his office took a direct hit," she says, and while she doesn't want to believe it (she can't believe it, she would know), it's hard to ignore the facts that she's been presented with. "Do you really think there's a chance he survived?"

Reeve sighs, eyebrows furrowed together. That's enough to make Charlie's eyes well up with tears, even knowing everything she knows about her brother now, and she looks away in an attempt to hide them. He catches her chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently lifting her face.

"Listen to me, Charlotte. I have been through hell with your brother these past few weeks," he murmurs, breath hot on her mouth, the pad of his thumb brushing back-and-forth across her chin, "and I am not going to give up so easily on him now. But there is nothing that you or I can do for him right now. Tseng is up there, and I trust him to take care of it, all right?"

That's enough to make her heart slow, at least. "Okay," she breathes, nodding slightly. "Tell me more things to make me feel better."

"All right," he laughs, lowering his hand from her face to touch the ends of her hair. "Once we're away from this place, we're going to make sure Cloud and the others are all right, and then we're going to get you back to Veld, and then I'm going to take you to Kalm and keep you safe for as long as I can."

She relaxes, wiping the rest of her tears away.

"Are you all right? Can you keep going now?"

"Yes," she smiles, touching his face, still feeling as if she's walked right into a dream, seeing him again. "I just needed to hear your voice."

"I can do a different voice, if it will make you feel better."

Laughter escapes her, desperate and half a sob. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too."

The painkillers make him remember things.

Not clearly, of course, but almost like vignettes, half-forgotten memories that have made up the core of his being, that have helped shape him into the man he is now, lying broken and alone on the floor of a panic room.

Rufus isn't really sure that they could really be constituted as true memories, as they're still hazy and unfocused, based more on the emotions he had felt than anything else.

The smell of her flowery shampoo when she curled up beside him at night, limbs tangled together like babes in the womb, while the storm raged outside their home with furious, cracking thunder, nothing compared to the storm within their home, screaming and smashing and sobbing.

The song she used to sing to him when she would tend to his bruises and cuts at night, the same song he would hear her humming in the shower when he would pass by the door in the morning, but the song has been buried so deep that he only recalls it was some anti-war propaganda tune about a soldier going off to serve in a bloody war.

The first time she had told him she loved him and the realization that she meant it in a different way, and the knowledge that there was one woman in the world who might love him for something other than his name, his face, his money, his power, the title and job and life that he would inherit after his father.

The bright smile on her face when she had waved to him from the crowd of people who watched him graduate with top honors from some fancy private school with the rest of his classmates, hidden towards the back to remain anonymous and side-by-side with Reeve, both of them there to support him after his father had decided the company was more important than his own son's education.

Rufus remembers learning how to swim by copying his sister, remembers learning how to ride a bicycle with her little hands on his back, remembers skinning his knees and bursting into tears while his sister kissed his head and cleaned up his wounds, remembers watching her build little model airplanes and begging her to let him help.

And he remembers listening at her bedroom door while Veld read her a story because he had already rejected the Turk's offer and was too prideful to admit he changed his mind. He remembers his sister looking so ashamed of loving him, all because she was in love with Reeve and couldn't be less than perfect.

A soft, whining noise makes Rufus's eyes snap open. It takes him a moment to realize the sound has come from himself. It takes him another moment to realize that his cheeks are wet with tears.

After everything he's done to her, Charlie won't come for him now. He doubts that she'll ever care about him again, and doubts that she'll even shed any tears when she finds out that Weapon may have killed him.

Or perhaps she will. After all, she shed tears for Father. Why shouldn't she shed tears for him? Isn't that what she had said?

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

"Shut up," he says to no one, speaking only to the blindingly white ceiling, still lying on his back on the hard ground. "Shut up!"

If he gets out of here, he'll never hurt her again. If he gets out of here, he'll apologize to both Charlie and Reeve. If he gets out of here and survives Meteor, he will give her a full pardon and he'll give Reeve some fancy new title that pays a lot of money to make them both happy.

"Oh, Gods, help me," he moans, his ribs aching and his eyes burning. "Help me . . ."

Though a horrible thought continues to overshadow any hope for him. He has wronged all the people who tried to care for him, and it's all his fault.

No one will come to save him now.

"They're out of the building!"

Cait Sith's face still glows in the orange light from the explosion caused by Shinra's latest weapon, a massive robot designed to stamp them out under its feet.

One of the high-ranking pricks lies dead on the ground, a man that the cat had named Heidegger. Half of his thick green coat burned off, black beard singed in places, dried blood covering half his face, killed in the explosion. Yuffie gives his body a kick, as if to make sure he isn't going to get back up.

"Wait a minute—" Cait Sith hops down from Nanaki's back, looking around frantically. "Where's Scarlet?"

"Who?" Cid replies, still breathing heavy and bleeding in a few places where the robot had swiped at him.

"The woman he was with! Where'd she go?"

With a cigarette already between his lips, Cid lights it with a shaky hand. "Dunno. Probably wandered off to die alone. There's no way she'd make it far."

"Listen, we can't just sit around and wait to see what happens with the Sister Ray," Cait Sith continues, glancing up towards the towering staircase that leads up to the control panel. "The Turks are heading evacuations, but there aren't enough of them. They're gonna need help."

To Cid's surprise, Yuffie is the first to volunteer. "Sounds like the perfect job for me! I'll do it!" she announces brightly. "But I've never been here before, so . . . you'll have to tell me where to go."

"I can do that," the cat says, and Yuffie picks him up and sets him neatly on her shoulder, the exact same way Charlie used to. "We'll take Sector One. You two take Sector Two. Cid, you know where you're going, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Cid throws his cigarette down, stomping it out moodily beneath his boot. "I got it, all right? I know my way around the goddamn city."

"Okay. If you run into any of the Turks, don't worry, just ignore them. They won't touch you unless she orders them to."

"You sure 'bout that?" Cid snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't sounds like the Turks I know. She did tell you 'bout that slick-haired Turk comin' to my house, didn't she?"

"Things are different. Just ignore them. We're all working towards the same thing right now."

When Yuffie takes off with Cait Sith through the night, Nanaki turns to face him. "You do know the city, don't you?" he asks.

Cid scoffs, the back of his neck growing warm. "It's been a while," he admits. "But how hard can it be? We'll figure it out. I don't need a fuckin' cat tellin' me what to do."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know," Reeve confesses, dragging Charlie along by the hand, racing down an empty street in Sector One. It's impossible to see anything through the storm, but every now and then, lightning flashes and brightens their way. "I'm waiting for Cloud to let us know Hojo has been taken care of."

There doesn't seem to be enough time to do everything he wants to do. With Shinra in disarray, and with a limited number of Turks in a city with more than a thousand times their number, evacuations have been slow, chaotic, and embarrassingly disorganized. The sheer number of citizens requiring help was overwhelming with an entire department to oversee it, and half the top-side residents must still be waiting for their chance to relocate temporarily to the slums.

And there's Rufus to think about, as well. Until Reeve sees a body, he won't believe the president is dead. Despite the fact that Weapon's projectiles had destroyed the topmost part of the Shinra Building, he has a hard time believing that Rufus wouldn't have had one last trick up his sleeve.

"Reeve," Charlie says softly, keeping up with him as much as she can. His legs are almost numb from their descent from HQ, shaking and weak, and he can't imagine hers are any better. "Let's go back to my father's house. We should get out of the rain."

He sighs, looking back at her. "All right. The less people that know you're here, the better."

With the Turks heading evacuations now, more vehicles have flooded the streets and seem to be drawing people out of their dark homes. Helicopter buzz overhead, bright lights blinding as they search for people in need of help, and sirens are going off a few blocks away, a deep voice shouting instructions through a bullhorn.

He looks up to see Meteor breaking through the storm clouds above them. For the first time in a while, he has the time to consider what may happen in the next few days. He's been too busy to dwell on it, but now that it's here, in his face, and he can take a moment to really digest the situation that's been contrived . . .

"Reeve," Charlie says again, standing right in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. "It's all right." After another moment, during which he finds he can't speak, she cocks her head and smiles up at him. "Let's go, okay?"

"Okay."

She takes the lead this time, weaving her way through the streets, as familiar with them as she is with the back of her hand. Charlie tends to keep to the main streets, where there's light from the vehicles, but not enough to draw attention to them, so long as they keep their heads down. It's unlikely anyone will recognize Charlie looking the way she does now, especially if no one knows that she's in the city.

As they approach the burning remains of the Proud Clod, the rain having put out much of the flames. Charlie doesn't seem to think it warrants a passing glance, but something does happen to catch her eye to her right, slumped against a building, and he nearly bowls into her when she stops abruptly.

"Wait," she says quietly, reaching behind her and pulling out a golden gun.

"What are you doing?" he hisses, grabbing her arm as she takes a few steps towards a building lost in shadow.

"Don't worry. I know how to use it. Just wait here." Charlie creeps towards the shadow on the ground, propped against a stone wall. Reeve follows, and she doesn't say anything about it.

As they approach, Reeve is granted a better sight of what the shadow actually is. Her dress is nearly burnt all the way off her body, and parts of it seem to have melted into her very skin. The left side of her is covered in savage blisters and burns, and it's truly a horrible sight to look upon. But her hair is unmistakable, even singed and falling out of place like it is.

Charlie kneels down before Scarlet, taking care to keep the gun in the open. Scarlet is still alive, breathing very raggedly and painfully, bleeding from several puncture wounds in her exposed chest. The rain makes her blood look pink, pooling around her where she lies broken.

Though Reeve almost feels sorry for Scarlet, Charlie doesn't seem to look as sad for her. There's a hard look to her face, eyebrows furrowed together as she looks the other woman's body up and down, scrunching her nose.

"Going to . . . shoot me . . . Char?"

"I could," Charlie answers, cocking her gun and making a show of it. Reeve purses his lips. "If I wanted to."

"I know . . . you want to . . ." Her voice is hardly there, wheezing over the slapping of the rain against the pavement. "Go on . . . then . . ."

Charlie doesn't move, remaining at Scarlet's side without even changing her expression.

"I knew . . . about your SOLDIER . . ." Scarlet lifts a violently shaking hand to grip Charlie's forearm, digging sharp fingernails into her skin. But Charlie doesn't flinch. "About your brother . . ." Her eyes flick up to Reeve's face, her expression twisted in pain. "I should have . . . killed you . . . while I had the . . . chance . . ."

"Does it hurt terribly, Scarlet?" Charlie asks softly, prying Scarlet's fingers off her arm. "Knowing that you're going to die alone here? Is that what you want? For me to put you out of your misery?"

"Brat . . . you don't have . . . the stomach . . . your father would be . . . ashamed . . ."

Slowly, Charlie gets to her feet. She holds the gun out and aims it at Scarlet's face almost lazily. Reeve means to stop her, but another part of him knows that, if this is what Charlie wants, there will be no stopping her at all. So he's forced to watch, and forced to hope that she undergoes a change of heart in the next few seconds.

Rufus would have shot her already. Rufus would have shot her the moment they found her, and probably would have shot her multiple times, always playing with his food before eating it.

President Shinra would have had her dragged away and killed out of sight, wiping his hands clean of the situation in the seconds that followed his apparent stroke of genius.

But after the longest few seconds of his life, Charlie lowers the gun back to her side. She considers Scarlet for a long moment, the both of them looking at each other with obvious contempt and fury, and then says, "You're not worth it."

Turning back to face Reeve, Charlie exhales quietly, seemingly waiting for him to say something. But all he can think to say is, "Are you ready?"

She nods, and neither of them look back at Scarlet as they walk away.

It seems that Rufus has been staying in the house. His old bedroom is scattered with clothing, and there are a few half-empty bottles of scotch and whiskey on his nightstand. The sight makes her sad, so she closes the door and decides not to go back inside.

They still haven't heard anything from Tseng, and none of the Turks are here yet.

The entire home is dark, save for the light that makes its way through the windows from the moon and Meteor. Charlie and Reeve had fumbled around the kitchen for candles and matches, and she can't deny that it's eerie to walk down a long, empty, and silent hallway with only a candle that casts long and ever-moving shadows on the walls while the rain lashes at the window panes.

There isn't much left in the dressers as far as dry clothing that might fit Reeve. All of Rufus's things are too tight and too small, and all of her father's clothing had been removed when Rufus and Reeve first came back after the late president's murder.

Thankfully, there's a few things in the guest room that the Turks used. She finds a sweater that hasn't been touched in years, and pants that'll be fine with a belt wrapped tight around his waist.

When she returns to the sitting room with dry clothes and towels and blankets all stacked in her arms, Reeve has a fire going in the fireplace, poking restlessly at the logs. They burn fast, probably very dry after sitting in an mostly unused house for many years.

They've left puddles and muddy footprints throughout the foyer and hallways, but she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about right now is how warm the fire is, and how nice it feels to be wearing clothing that isn't stuck and chafing against her skin, even if she is wearing Rufus's clothes.

She kneels on layers of blankets, holding her trembling hands out to warm them, but she knows the shaking has nothing to do with the cold. The horrifying image of Scarlet's appearance had shaken her, horribly burnt and bleeding and broken, dying before her very eyes.

"You should try to get some rest while you can," Reeve tells her, his arms too long for the sleeves of his sweater, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he looks down at his phone.

"Have you heard from Tseng yet?" she asks quickly, hopefully.

"No." He frowns at her. "I'll wake you when I do."

"You're not going to sleep?"

"No." He puts his phone down and moves forward to poke at the fire again as the logs pop and crack. "I won't be able to sleep, and I need to be able to communicate with the others through Cait Sith."

Charlie lies down on the blanket, propping herself up on an elbow and chewing on her lower lip. She watches him for a moment, shoulders flexing underneath the sweater that seems to be on the verge of tearing at the seams when he moves his arms.

"I like him," she says, and Reeve turns his head slightly to glance over his shoulder at her. "Cait Sith, I mean."

He laughs to himself, replacing the poker and sitting back down, long legs stretched out in front of him. Charlie feels her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. She forces herself to stay awake, wanting to soak in the moment for as long as she can, looking at him for the first time in many long weeks.

Reeve glances down at her, catching her looking. His cheek flush handsomely in the firelight. "What?" he asks.

"It's just . . ." She trails off awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. I feel like an idiot. I missed looking at your face. I wish I had never left. I wish I had known you were Cait Sith the entire time. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

She smiles weakly at him. "What's in Kalm?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you were going to bring me to Kalm and keep me safe."

"Oh." He runs a hand through his hair, looking back towards the fire. "I thought I might bring you to the house where Elmyra and Marlene are staying, just until we figure something else out." The only answer he receives is the crackling of a log. "We'll leave in the morning, if that's all right with you."

Charlie hesitates, eyes tracing the sharp lines of his profile. "Are you sure they'll be all right with me staying there?"

"I'm sure."

"Will you be there, as well?"

"Yes," he replies, looking at her again, exhausted. "If it's all the same to you, Madam Vice President, I think it's past time I've turned in my resignation notice, effective immediately, if that's agreeable with you."

The longer Charlie remains quiet, the more doubtful Reeve seems to look. She doesn't disagree with his decision at all, but wonders if he would still choose to resign if the world weren't going to end in a few days.

Not wanting to make him any more anxious than he is now, Charlie smiles at him again, holding her hand out to him. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Director Tuesti. I'm sincerely sorry to see you go."

A smile breaks across his face, relieved and shy. He fits his hand against her own, shaking it firmly, his palm warm and his thumb swiping over one of her knuckles.

Charlie pulls her hand away first, at the risk of doing or saying something stupid. Even just touching him makes her want to cry. "What does this mean for you, then?"

"Truthfully, I haven't considered it very much. I'm trying not to be . . . overly optimistic," he admits sheepishly. "I thought I might just put off job hunting until we see what happens with Meteor."

Reeve settles on his back, one arm underneath his head as his eyes flutter closed. It gives Charlie the perfect opportunity to shift slightly closer under the guise of getting comfortable. "What if we go with Cloud and the others? You can come with us."

"And do what?" His eyes open, and he blinks a few times before looking over at her. "We aren't fighters, Charlie. And your life is too precious to throw away against Sephiroth, should we survive Meteor."

She doesn't know why the words affect her so much. "So when it comes down to it, I'm just another Shinra? My father's legacy? Keep me safe so the company doesn't disappear?"

"I didn't say that," he replies. "If you want to fight, then go. But I won't have you leave without knowing that I think you should stay."

"To pick up the pieces of the company that my brother left behind?"

"You're putting words in my mouth, Charlotte," he snaps, lifting his head from his pillow and immediately looking apologetic. "Does it surprise you so much to hear that I might want you to stay for my own selfish reasons?"

She blushes furiously. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

They lapse back into silence. Charlie stares up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance, listening to the rain and the thunder and the wind, the sirens that cut through the storm from outside the estate, the helicopter that fly overhead.

His voice breaks the silence again, perhaps as uncomfortable as she is. When was the last time a silence between them felt so uncomfortable? "Thank you for coming back for me."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"I want to anyway."

He must be crazy to think that she would have left him behind. Not in a million years would she leave him behind.

But I did, she can't help but think. I left him with Rufus, and look what's happened to him now.

"Reeve, I am so sorry," she breathes, embarrassed and ashamed for the things she's done and the things she's had no control over. "I never meant to hurt you."

He doesn't answer for a long time. When she looks sideways at him, he looks deep in thought. Charlie pushes herself to her hands and knees, reaching out for his hand to pull him reluctantly into a sitting position. It brings tears to her eyes, the knowledge that she may never get a moment like this again.

"Did you sleep with him?" Reeve whispers, as if he's afraid someone might be listening in. "Did you sleep with Cid?"

"No," Charlie answers, still clinging to his hand with both of her own, only able to hope that he believes her. She knows that he thinks her a liar, and she knows that she has earned that title. It's not one she's proud of, but it's too late to change the things she's done now. All she can do now is tell him the truth and hope that he recognizes her efforts. "Only you."

He opens his mouth to speak again, but is interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Exhaling shortly through his nose, he answers. "Have you found anything?"

"Is Charlotte there?"

Charlie can hear Tseng speaking through the phone very clearly, but Reeve lowers it from his ear and turns on the speaker. "I'm here, Tseng. Are you all right?"

"Reno and Rude have found your brother. He's alive. Meet me at the hospital in Sector Eight, both of you."

Reeve lifts his eyes to look at her, and Charlie's heart leaps in her throat. "We're on our way," he says, hanging up the call.

Tseng is the only Turk at the hospital when he and Charlie arrive, wearing clothes that are too small for them (but at least they're dry, as he had taken care to hold an umbrella over the both of them on the way here).

"He has a couple of broken ribs, a broken heel, and a few fractures, but all in all, he'll live," the doctor says anxiously, eyes flicking between the three of them as if looking at one of them for too long might kill him.

"If Meteor doesn't destroy us all, you mean," Charlie mutters bitterly, and the doctor inclines his head, muted fear flashing across his face. "Can I see him?"

Reeve's neck almost snaps with the force that he turns his head, looking down at her. Clearing his throat to keep the doctor from answering, he wraps his fingers around her upper arm. "Excuse us, Doctor, do you think the three of us could have a private word?" he asks through gritted teeth, impatient.

The doctor excuses himself, but Charlie doesn't seem to think it's an appropriate time to leave them without further answers. She looks up at him, lowering her voice as if trying to pretend Tseng isn't listening to every word of their conversation. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Reeve says, folding his arms over his chest. "I just thought I might remind you that, behind that door, is the brother of yours that fully intended to execute you with the rest of Avalanche."

"Because you think, in the short while I've been away from Junon, I may have forgotten about that?" Charlie snaps, and while the last thing he wants to do is make her angry, it's good to see that she's still herself. "Remind me, was it you or me that spent a week in a cell that he put me in?"

Having said what he wanted to say, he holds his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. This gesture makes her face soften, and she sighs, running a hand through damp and stiff hair. Charlie touches his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze and flashing him a small smile.

"I'm sorry. If I don't see him now, I may never get the chance to again, and I don't want to die with that weighing on my conscience," she explains, far more gently. "If you'd like to come in with me . . ."

Reeve exchanges a sideways look with Tseng, who is already lowering himself into a chair outside Rufus's hospital room. "I'll wait here. I can see him afterwards."

She hesitates, eyeing Tseng warily. Moving closer to Reeve, she lowers her voice again, turning her body slightly to hide her mouth from the Turk's line of sight, one hand resting upon his elbow. "I haven't forgotten what he did to you."

"I didn't tell you Rufus did this to me," he answers, touching the bridge of his swollen nose with the tips of his fingers. It's still painful, even the lightest touch, but he swallows the pain when Charlie brushes her own fingers across the yellowed bruising on his cheekbone. Her touch is far more comforting than it has any right to be.

He has no choice but to let her go, hoping that seeing her brother in such a sorry state doesn't make her forgive him so easily. Truthfully, Reeve is very glad to know that Rufus is still alive, and can only hope that his near-death experience has opened his eyes.

Reeve sits down in the chair beside Tseng, the fluorescent lighting of the hospital blinding, making his head throb. While they sit in silence, waiting for Charlie to come back out, a battle rages atop the Sister Ray, Midgar burns and screams, and the Shinra Electric Power Company's legacy crumbles all the while as employees flee, under the impression that their president is dead and their vice president is nowhere to be found.

As the hospital continues to fill up with patients that had been found in collapsed buildings and under debris, the hallway begins to grow a little busier. No one pays them any mind, as half of the patients are unconscious or heavily sedated, and the doctors and nurses and staff who pass them by are too busy to give them even a second glance.

While Tseng sits calm, flipping through an old magazine and waiting patiently, Reeve can't help but fidget uncomfortably in the chair every few seconds, his leg bouncing. He can't say which immediate problem is causing him the most anxiety. Perhaps Meteor and his impending death is what's causing him to rethink everything in his life, or maybe it's the idea that Charlie might be in there kissing Rufus that makes his heart beat impossibly fast.

Suddenly, he wonders if leaving the city is such a good idea. It may seem like he's trying to run away, but all he wants is a place where he feels comfortable dying. He thinks of Scarlet, propped against the wall with her clothes nearly burned off, skin blackened and charred, the stink radiating off her, the same smell that had lingered in the air the night he and Charlie were caught in the middle of the reactor bombing.

He doesn't want his own final moments to mimic that horrific scene, and he certainly refuses to let Charlie's final moments look so undignified.

"I'm taking her to Kalm in the morning," he announces quietly, unsure if Tseng is even listening to him.

To his surprise, the corners of Tseng's mouth twitch, but he doesn't lift his eyes from the magazine. "To your second family?"

Reeve stops moving, every muscle in his body tensing. He grips the arms of the chair tight. "Excuse me?"

"After I saw the burner phone, I had Veld do a little recon." Tseng flips the page in the magazine, finally looking up to smile smugly. "All the evidence pointed to your little secret being another woman, so I was curious. I was mostly right, wasn't I?"

His heart drops, causing his stomach to turn. "Leave them alone."

Tseng scowls. "Hurt the mother of the girl I was tasked with protecting? Hurt the little girl you care so much for?" He adjusts the magazine, shaking his head slightly. "And here I thought we were friends, Director. Don't worry, I've had a few former colleagues keeping an eye on the place while you've been away. And I know what you're thinking, but don't worry about that, either. It's only Freyra and Emma."

Reeve isn't certain whether or not he should thank Tseng (though the knowledge that it's only Freyra and Emma is certainly relieving). It's not like he asked for the Turks to get involved, but perhaps he had inadvertently gotten himself involved with the Turks for life the moment he started dating Charlie.

"You can just call me Reeve, you know," he replies, not wanting to say anything else that might offend Tseng. "Charlotte accepted my resignation as of . . ." He holds his watch up in front of his face. "About three hours ago."

"Congratulations."

Reeve hums, slumping in his chair and letting his legs bounce uncontrollably again.

"What are you going to do?"

"Hm?"

"If you're resigning from Shinra, surely you have other plans."

For a brief moment, Reeve has to wonder if Tseng has forgotten about Meteor. "I'm mostly concerned about whether or not I'm still going to be alive in a few days, actually."

Tseng chuckles breathily, glancing up at a few passing doctors who are murmuring to each other about the number of predicted casualties inflicted by Weapon's attack. "Have you always been so hopelessly pessimistic, or was it the company that beat the optimism out of you?"

"Survival seems falsely optimistic at this point."

"I was only making a joke," Tseng says, causing Reeve to fidget again, his neck growing warm. "Well, whatever it is you decide to do—should you survive, of course—so long as Charlotte stands behind you, the Turks will, as well."

That makes him smile, and Reeve finds himself rethinking not only his life now, but his hatred of the Turks, his open contempt towards them, all because of their involvement in Charlie's life. The past few weeks would have been much more difficult without them, he thinks.

He holds his hand out, and Tseng shakes it without much doubt or hesitation. "Thank you."

There are small cuts all over his handsome face, and he isn't wearing a shirt, but his torso is wrapped tight in thick bandages, and his left foot is in a white synthetic cast, propped up on some pillows. His arms are covered in bruises, like someone has kicked him several times.

She thinks he's asleep, but as she approaches his bed side and sits down in the empty chair beside him, Rufus's eyes flutter open. There are dark shadows beneath them, and his face is shiny with sweat. She's never seen him look so weak before, and while the sight is rather pathetic, Charlie thinks that she's allowed herself to be seen recently in much worse shape.

"Oh, Rufus . . ." she sighs, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His forehead is hot to the touch. "What happened to you?"

In spite of all that he's done lately, Charlie cradles his face with her hand. His eyes close again when he nuzzles into her palm, his jaw shut tight and lips pursed together like he's about to cry.

"I thought you wouldn't come," he croaks, eyes snapping open the moment she pulls her hand away from him. "I thought you would have left the city. Where is Reeve?"

She smiles weakly down at him. "He's just outside with Tseng. Do you want me to go get him?"

Rufus's face colors, and he turns his head to look away from him. "No. I was only asking." After another moment, he looks back at her, as if attempting to gauge her reaction. If he hopes to trick her into talking to him by making her feel guilty for teasing him, it isn't going to work this time. "So I suppose you'll be going back to your new friends?"

"No," she replies quietly. "Reeve and I are going to Kalm tomorrow, to wait everything out."

"With him?" When Rufus speaks, his voice breaks. There's something sad about him, like everything he's ever buried has breached the surface, finally spilling over while alone with his sister. "But I love you."

He reaches out to hold her hand, but Charlie pulls it away before he can touch her. Rufus exhales a soft little breath, a pout on his pink lips. "I love you, Rufus, and there's always going to be a part of me that's in love with you," she whispers, not wanting anyone else to hear, "but you imprisoned me and were going to have me killed. You have continually threatened and hurt someone I love very much. You hurt me. You used me and treated me like an object that was yours and yours alone. I loved you in spite of everything, and you broke my heart."

Rufus is quiet, but he certainly looks ashamed of himself. His cheeks are bright pink, the only color left on his pale face, and he lowers his eyes.

"You think my love for Reeve is fabricated, or that I'm only pretending for the sake of appearances," she continues, feeling confident—powerful, even—in a way she's never truly felt with her brother. No one can hurt her here, and Rufus's closest allies would never lay a finger on her. "But he has been kind to me since the moment I met him, and my feelings were important to him. I was a person to him, like I never was to you, and he has never hurt me, or touched me without my explicit consent."

Still, he refuses to speak. She wonders if it's due to pride, or if it's because he doesn't know what to say.

"Of course I love him. He's so smart and clever and well-spoken, and he makes me laugh. And he loves me." Charlie wonders if he's even listening. "I don't care if you apologize to me, but you owe him an apology."

When she still can't get a response out of Rufus, she gets to her feet slowly. He's still her little brother, she reminds herself, and it's then that she's reminded of something.

"While I was with Avalanche, we went to Cosmo Canyon," she says, and this seems to catch her brother's attention. He looks up eagerly at her, raising his eyebrows. "It's where another went after she left Midgar, and it's where she died."

She isn't going to leave without hearing him speak again. It's odd, as Rufus is someone who has always loved the sound of his own voice. And finally, he speaks in a hoarse voice full of suppressed emotion.

"I heard you went to outer space in your rocket."

The subject throws her off guard, but she goes along with it. "I did."

"What was it like?"

Indescribable, she thinks. "It was everything I dreamed it would be."

"Mother would have been proud."

These simple words have an unexpected, but profound effect on her. Clearing her throat, Charlie stoops to brush Rufus's hair aside, pressing her lips to his forehead. "Good-bye, Rufus."

She's halfway to the door when he calls out for her again. She stops mid-stride, looking over her shoulder at him, tears burning her eyes. "Send him in," he rasps.

When Charlie exits the room, Reeve gets quickly to his feet, pulling her out of the way of the doctors that rush past. "How is he? Is he all right?"

She glances sideways at Tseng, who flips lazily through a magazine, but Charlie is certain he's still listening. Lowering her voice, she leans into Reeve, looking up at him. "Do you think it would be all right if we left Midgar tonight instead of in the morning?"

"Yes, of course." He rubs her upper arms gently, eyes roving over her face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Rufus wants to talk to you."

"Okay." He doesn't believe her, but she'll have plenty of time to explain on the ride to Kalm. "I'll try to be quick."

"Take your time," she smiles. "I'll be here."

He feels a pang of guilt upon seeing Reeve's face again. Up close, the skin underneath his eyes still seems swollen, but if he's in pain, he gives no indication of it.

"How are you feeling?" Reeve asks him politely from the chair that Charlie had just been occupying, eyes sweeping over his bandaged abdomen and the cast on his foot.

He won't be able to walk for months, and the doctors said it might not heal fully for over a year—not that it matters anymore. "Like shit," he answers, feeling relieved when Reeve smiles. Rufus looks away, cursing his own damned weakness. "My sister seems to think I owe you an apology."

Reeve is quiet, and it infuriates him. He can't help but wonder how Charlie had been so patient with him while he gave her the silent treatment. To be fair, Rufus wasn't really sure what she expected him to say, and he didn't want to say anything that would make her angry or hurt her, so he just chose not to say anything.

"I think I owe you several." He doesn't want to see the expression on Reeve's face. He's already won—he got the girl and her love and respect, helped try to save the world, cared for the city while Rufus fixated on more personal matters.

"I don't really think this is necessary—"

"Charlie does."

Reeve frowns, obviously uncomfortable and eager to be free of this confining hospital room.

"She loves you very much," Rufus continues quietly, shifting as much as he can against his pillows, his ribs throbbing painfully. His mind feels a little foggy, probably the painkillers starting to wear off. "Listen, should we survive Meteor, I have every intention of rebuilding my father's company, and this time, it can be—"

"Actually, I'm going to stop you right there." Reeve smiles a nervous little smile, and Rufus is slightly taken aback that he's had the audacity to cut the president of Shinra off in the middle of his speech. "If we survive Meteor, I . . ." He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "Rufus, I've already told your sister that I have no intention of returning to Shinra."

Rufus falters, unable to deny that this is a blow to the company. Perhaps it's premature to start thinking about a future that may not exist.

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you," he says again, and Rufus feels childlike and small, bed-ridden and pathetic and in pain. "I really couldn't care less whether or not you apologize to me. With the world potentially ending soon, I'm feeling very forgiving, and as soon as I'm done here, I'm going to take Charlie and put Midgar behind us for the time being."

For Charlie's sake, Rufus holds his tongue.

"What you did to Charlotte was infinitely worse than anything you have ever done to me." Reeve shrugs, sighing very heavily. "If you owe anyone several apologies, it's her."

This makes Rufus burst into uncontrollable laughter. It's painful, shaking his body and making his broken ribs hurt. Reeve looks at him like he's lost his mind, and perhaps he has. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this.

"Do you find that funny?"

"Not particularly," Rufus answers breathlessly. "But Charlie said the same thing about you."

After Rufus calms down, Reeve gets to his feet, brushing off the front of his sweater. It looks two sizes too small for him, his wrists poking out of the sleeves, the fabric strained against his shoulders and chest. It looks ridiculous.

"I am sorry, you know." It's an inadequate apology, but Rufus doesn't know what else to say. Nothing will ever make up for what he's done to Charlie, and it's not like he has anything to offer Reeve right now.

"Take care of yourself, Rufus," Reeve says, but it sounds sad, like he's looking down on some dying animal. He reaches out to grab Rufus's extended hand, giving it a firm shake, "while you still can."

"You, too."

"We'll talk again soon."

"I look forward to it."