The moment he walks through the door with Charlie, Marlene is on them, tugging at his sleeve to bring his face closer to her own.
She whispers right into his ear, little hands cups around her mouth. "Can we do the fireworks now?"
"Yes, go get them." Reeve stands back up and gives Charlie an exasperated little smile. "Why don't you go move everyone to the back yard and get comfortable?"
Charlie doesn't leave him right away, biting down on her lower lip to stifle the small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. "What is it? What are we doing?" she asks quietly, and he almost feels compelled to tell her, simply because she had gone so long without needling him about it.
"Be patient," he says instead, finding joy in the way the corners of her lips turn downwards into a pout and her eyebrows knit together, the bridge of her nose wrinkled.
It's cute, frankly. It's a sign that she's still herself, and whether it's all an act for his sake or not, she plays the part very convincingly.
"I know patience has never been one of your virtues," he muses, wondering if she'll ever bother to play along, but it comes so naturally to her that he's half-convinced she's genuinely flirting with him.
"I don't like to be kept waiting by a man," Charlie tells him, raising an eyebrow and clicking her tongue. There's a sort of arrogance about her, like she's keenly aware of how beautiful she is. "Is this how you would treat your vice president?"
His neck and ears go hot. The situation suddenly seems very intimate, with her stark reminder of the title she still holds—though truthfully, Reeve isn't entirely certain how much the Shinra name is worth right now.
He looks her up and down quickly, even though it's in full view of her own gaze. She doesn't even blush, though she fidgets distractedly with the end of her t-shirt, probably very uncomfortable allowing herself to be seen so . . . vulnerable.
Once his eyes settle on her face again, she smiles. "Aren't you going to flirt back with me?"
"I don't know what you mean," he says quickly, feeling very much as if she's accusing him of something, which she is—she's accusing him of flirting with her, and that hadn't exactly been his intention, at first.
For a split second, he sees disappointment flash across her face, but she rearranges her features to hide it. It's like watching Charlie rebuild her walls in real time, shattering whatever progress he'd been making. "Sorry. I'll see you outside, all right?" she says, still smiling at him as she turns around to join Barret, Elmyra, and Cait Sith in the kitchen.
Damn, he thinks to himself, watching her disappear behind the kitchen wall, but still able to hear her voice floating through the downstairs of the house. Maybe she isn't pretending at all.
Marlene has hidden the bag underneath her bed, and when he checks to make sure she's all right, all he can see are her little legs sticking out. Wriggling against the hard ground, she worms her way back out and stands up, giving him the bag to hold.
"You know, Charlie was talking about you this morning," she teases, sticking her tongue out.
Curiosity makes Reeve hesitate in the doorway, but he remembers what Charlie had said to Marlene earlier today when the girl threatened to expose his own guilty secrets. "Don't," he forces himself to say, if only to extend the same amount of respect towards Charlie and her secrets. "I don't want to know."
"Why not? She only said you were cute, and she likes your beard."
"Really?" One of his hands jump to his face, combing the dark hair on his chin with his fingertips while the bag of fireworks sits cradled in his other arm. "She said that? In response to what? What did you ask her?"
"I caught her looking at your butt."
The casual way Marlene delivers this remark is enough to make him blush.
Why is it so surprising to him that Charlie might find him attractive? After all, she's made that point explicitly clear to him in the past, but perhaps seeing the way she watched Cid Highwind at times was disheartening, and casted doubt upon him whenever he thought back to any particularly decent memories.
When he and Marlene exit the house through the back door a few minutes later, Charlie has spread a blanket on the grass, just like Cait Sith had told her to do. She and the cat sit together, with a little distance between her and Barret and the others, and her face brightens considerably when she catches sight of the fireworks peeking over the top of the bag.
Seeing her and Cait Sith together, watching him carefully as he moves to the center of the backyard, makes his chest swell. Why hadn't he told her about him years ago? Why had he allowed himself to be robbed of so many opportunities and potentially good memories? Why had he allowed himself to be robbed of her pride, of her compliments?
Wouldn't she have been thrilled to see something he built? Hasn't she always been supportive and thrilled in regards to everything made by his hands?
Marlene abandons his side to sit with her father, but Reeve doesn't mind. She's delighted, never having seen fireworks before, and he supposes that sharing this moment with her own father is something he would rather encourage.
They're nothing special, really. Midgar often did fireworks displays on holidays and special occasions, and Charlie liked to watch from the balcony of their apartment, which gave them a very sweet view of the show. Those had been the big display fireworks, though, that lit up the night sky in every color of the rainbow.
The last time Midgar had done a fireworks display, he had been forced to work through it.
No, that's not right. He hadn't been forced to do anything. Charlie had begged him to come home and watch the fireworks with her, but there was so much to be done that couldn't be put off any longer. And when he had come home that night, she had been in bed, unreceptive to his touches and disappointed.
These fireworks that Marlene had picked out are small, but certainly just as noisy and entertaining enough for a five-year-old. She hangs off her father's neck, covering her ears as Reeve continues to light two or three at a time, quickly stepping away before they go off, cracking and popping and spitting golden sparks a few feet into the air.
She points out her favorite ones, and both Charlie and Elmyra coo over them with Barret. Sometimes Marlene shouts at him to do three at a time, or all blue ones, or just the ones that spin on the ground and whistle. He obliges her each and every time, half-afraid that, if he doesn't, Barret will have something to say about it.
Yet he doesn't have too much time to spare looking at Marlene for his next direction, too distracted with Charlotte's reaction to the fireworks. In between the lighting of the fireworks, Reeve glances over towards Charlie, softening significantly at the sight of her.
For a moment, he can't help but wonder how she could possibly smile with everything going on, with Meteor days away from reaching the planet's surface and destroying millions of lives. It's a real smile too, her perfect teeth bared, laughing as Marlene points to one that sends colored smoke up into the air. Cait Sith is curled up at her side, just like he was wont to do so many times on the road.
It's then that Reeve beckons Cait Sith over to finish his work, making for Charlie's side. That cat wastes no time in jumping to his feet, trading places with him. She seems happy enough when he sits down beside her, extending his long legs in front of him and leaning back on his hands in the grass.
"All right," Charlie tells him, closer than he remembers her being, but he isn't certain whether or not his imagination is just playing tricks on him, "fireworks were a nice surprise."
"Don't you feel foolish now for wanting to be spoiled?" he teases.
"I still could have acted surprised." She sidles up to him, and it occurs to him that, even here, in the house that he has been paying for and with the people he has been offering protection, they both are still outsiders.
"Look at 'em," Barret says suddenly, as if there are more people here to listen in. His head is turned towards himself and Charlie, but there's a small smile on his face. "Even here, the two of you are off whisperin' to each other."
Everyone laughs, but he thinks the only person whose laughter is truly genuine is Marlene. And then Charlie turns back to face him with a brilliant smile on her face, and Reeve falters.
Very vividly, he recalls a memory of her that holds little meaning to him in truth. It is a warm breeze and a setting sun, Charlie in a white sundress and her hair a tangled and wavy mess from the ocean water, barefoot on the deck of the villa in Costa del Sol, smiling at him with her back to the beach, laughing when the wind blew her hair into her face.
She had been twenty, then, and he had already been in love with her for a long time.
The smile on her face now is the same it had been then. This is the same girl from that day at the villa, just happy to be with him.
This time, however, she seems expectant. Twenty-year-old-Charlotte had known better than to expect anything bold from him, at the time. Twenty-year-old-Charlotte had known better than to expect anything more than a few minutes of holding her hand or letting her wrap a hand around his arm when they walked.
The fireworks make her face glow—blue, pink, orange, gold, temporarily coloring her hair and giving life to her pale face. Cait Sith continues to light the fireworks, but neither of them are paying attention. The fireworks don't mean half as much to them as they do to Marlene, but maybe the girl had a point . . . maybe fireworks are romantic, in a sense (not that he's trying to romance her, because that wasn't his intention upon bringing her here, and she hurt him, but)—
Making his split-second decision, Reeve moves forward, watching Charlie's eyes flutter closed like she expected this, but before he can kiss her, Marlene interrupts them.
"That can't be all of them!"
He sighs irritably against her lips, pulling back when Barret and Elmyra look his way, as if hoping for an answer. Charlie, with her back to the others, smiles shyly at him, her eyes open again.
"We didn't buy that many, Marlene," Reeve reminds her, getting to his feet and brushing himself off before extending a hand to Charlie, pulling her up. If anyone had borne witness to what he was about to do to Charlotte, they say nothing.
"It's past your bedtime, anyway, angel," Barret tells Marlene, patting her head before getting heavily to his feet. "Go say thank-you and good-night."
Marlene doesn't look happy about it at all, but she says good-night to Elmyra first, giggling when Cait Sith does a cartwheel at her command. When she walks slowly over to Charlie and himself (prolonging the time until bed, he's certain, as she's been known to do that lately), Marlene wraps herself around one of Reeve's legs.
"Marlene—" he hisses, not wanting to push a little girl off, but acutely aware of Barret's pointed gaze, as if itching for a fight. "Please—"
"Can we buy more fireworks tomorrow?" she asks, looking up at him in the yellow light that spills from the back porch. "Please, please, please, please—"
Reeve casts an exasperated glance at Charlie, who's giggling softly to herself behind her fingers, obviously not about to offer him any help. "I have things I have to do tomorrow," he says apologetically, prying Marlene's fingers off his thigh. That's a good enough explanation. No one here needs to know that he and Charlie will be visiting with her brother, the president of Shinra. "I probably won't be here until after you're in bed."
"Well, Charlie will take me, won't she?" Marlene asks again, looking over her shoulder at Charlie, who has an eyebrow raised. "I can show her where we went."
"Charlie's going to be with me tomorrow, Marlene. Now, I think it's time for bed. Don't keep your father waiting."
She sighs very dramatically, as if his request is unreasonable, but she complies. Disentangling herself from his leg, Marlene bids a quiet and sad good-night to Charlie, who ruffles her hair and sends her back to Barret.
Before the two of them make it inside, Reeve can't help but notice that Barret's features are not quite so sharp and angry, and there's something sad about him.
Elmyra goes to follow, but before she re-enters the house, she places a hand on Reeve's shoulder, smiling weakly at him. She says nothing, but Reeve understands, finally able to have a second alone with Charlie—save for Cait Sith, who doesn't really count, as he's content to linger and pretend he can't hear everything that's being said.
Charlotte holds her hands behind her back, swaying from side-to-side and looking a little too innocently at him. "That was fun tonight," she says, and Reeve feels the pressure suddenly ease off his shoulders. "And Marlene enjoyed it. Do you want help cleaning up?"
"No, I think I've got it, thank you."
She opens her mouth to say something else, but hesitates and closes it at the last minute, shaking her head.
"Wait," he says, grabbing hold of her hand as she turns away from him. "Aren't you going to ask me what I have planned for us tomorrow?"
"Will I like it?"
"I think so, yes."
Charlie shrugs, pulling her hand from his and taking a step backwards. "Then I trust you."
"I thought you didn't like being kept waiting," he tells her with raised eyebrows, anything to keep her talking to him.
She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Reeve," she scoffs, half-serious and half-teasing, "I think I could make an exception for you."
"Gods, did you buy the entire store?"
"I thought you might like a selection."
"Where am I going to put all of these?"
"In the closet."
The clothes are cheap, but she isn't complaining. It's not like many stores are still open with the end of the world creeping closer. On their way back from the Highwind, she had noticed the windows all boarded up on the main street cutting through the plaza, the CLOSED signs across the shop doors.
"What is this?" she asks with a small smile, pulling a light blue cotton dress out of a bag, turning around to hold it up to him. "A bit different from the rest of the clothes you bought, don't you think?"
Reeve blushes furiously, having been watching her from his desk chair, spinning back around to face the wide monitor he's using. "I just thought it looked nice, that's all."
Charlie faces the mirror on the wall, holding the dress up to her. It would look nice on her. "Do you want me to wear it?" she asks again, watching the back of his head in the reflection.
"If you want to wear it," he murmurs, typing furiously, the keyboard clack-clack-clacking.
Charlie puts the dress on the bed, moving towards him to peer down at the screen. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get into the Shinra servers, but I have a feeling they're still down. I wonder if anyone has returned to work, or even attempted to reboot the systems. I can't access the mainframe from here."
"You must be the only person in the world still concerned about work right now." She drapes her arms over the back of his chair and his shoulders, resting her chin atop his head. Like normal, she reminds herself, and is further encouraged when he doesn't even flinch at this contact. "Besides, I thought you were retired now."
"I've resigned, not retired," Reeve reminds her. "And with the other directors dead—or, presumed dead, in Palmer's case—I can't think of anyone else who might try."
"Tseng might."
He hums in agreement, leaning forward to turn off the computer. Charlie pulls away from him, hanging the dress on the closet door for tomorrow. "I suppose I can leave it for tomorrow." When he turns around in his chair, a soft little breath escapes him. "You're actually going to wear it?"
She frowns, looking it up and down. "Why not?"
Reeve shrugs, slouched in the office chair, propping his head up with an elbow on the hard plastic arm.
Charlie smiles, narrowing her eyes at him. "What are you thinking right now?"
He shakes his head, smiling weakly. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"I've got time. I've got literally all the time in the world right now."
"It's not enough." He sits up a little straighter, still watching her as she enters the closet, just big enough for her to change in, a narrow thing that's nearly five times smaller than the closet in their apartment. "It's not enough time."
"Do you have so much to say to me that it would take more than a few days?" she teases him, in a weak attempt at lightening the mood, pulling her t-shirt over her head and throwing it into the nearest hamper.
"It's not so much what I have to say," he replies, completely out of sight. "It's all of the things that I ever wanted to do with you."
"The fireworks have made you sentimental, have they?"
"Charlie, I'm serious." She hears the creaking of the chair as he gets to his feet. She's only wearing a new t-shirt and underwear when he appears in the entrance to the closet, leaning against the frame. "Doesn't it upset you that we'll never get a chance at that life?"
She hesitates, pulling her shorts on slowly. "What life?"
Reeve blushes handsomely, lowering his eyes. "I don't know," he says, but Charlie knows he isn't being truthful. He knows damn well what he wants to say. "I think I would have wanted kids. A family."
It's her turn to flush. She turns away to hide her embarrassment, but can feel it creeping up her entire body, from her toes to her forehead. "Not with me," she mutters sheepishly.
When he doesn't answer, Charlie turns back around to find him looking at her exasperatedly. "Yes, with you," he tells her, completely bewildered. "Who else but you?"
"Anyone," she breathes, humiliated. "Anyone else. You really would have wanted a child with me? You would have wanted our son to turn out like Rufus?"
"Rufus is the way he is because of a lack of love and nurturing in his adolescence."
"And me?" Charlie asks softly, tears pricking at her eyes. She's not stupid. She knows why Rufus is the way he is, and hearing it spoken aloud like that is a painful reminder that she was never enough for her brother, despite doing all she could for him. "Am I just a sorry product of my father's abuse and neglect, as well?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you're thinking it." She wonders if she dares ask the question she's been too afraid to ask for years. Why shouldn't she ask? It's the end of the world. It might not even matter in a few days. But she decides against it at the last minute, not wanting to hear him explain that he pitied the young daughter of President Shinra.
"You grew to be kind and compassionate, despite the circumstances of your childhood," he tells her. "I wouldn't say that's such a sorry thing at all."
"Kind and compassionate," she repeats with venom, but her anger is not directed towards Reeve. It's directed towards herself, a burning resentment that she could never be what everyone expected of her. "My father has made me weak."
"Weak?" Reeve laughs, and Charlie feels his laughter stab at her heart. "Charlie, you are anything but. You were the only one brave enough to walk away from the company and its many injustices, even knowing that your life would potentially be forfeit."
"I had nowhere else to go," she confesses, shaking her head. "The people and the company's people didn't want me in Midgar. I'm a traitor to both Shinra and the people." And then something suddenly occurs to her that terrifies her. She hasn't given much thought about the future, convinced that Meteor will strike them all dead, but now that she thinks about it . . . "What am I supposed to do if we live?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where do I fit in in a world after Shinra?" Charlie asks, wrapping her arms around herself. "Everywhere I've been, everywhere that I go, I'm an outsider. No one wants a Shinra around, and they won't care whether I live or die if we survive Meteor. My father's company has failed them, and they won't care what I've done or where I've been . . . they'll see me as nothing but a reminder of the devastation my father and his company caused . . ."
Reeve smiles at her, taking a few steps closer until he's closer enough that he can reach out and touch her upper arms, squeezing gently. "You don't really think I would leave you to fend for your own in a world after Shinra, do you?"
"I wouldn't deserve it," she answers, looking up into his face and so grateful that she could cry. She doesn't realize until he swipes a thumb across her cheekbone that she is crying. "I don't deserve any of your kindness, even if—"
He frowns when she stops abruptly. "Even if what?"
"Even if it's all just an act."
As if she's punched him with these words, Reeve lets out another breath, this one half-scoff and half-laugh. "You think I'm putting on an act?"
"I don't know," she answers right away, flustered. "I thought you said you wanted us to be like normal."
"I just didn't want to fight with you while Meteor was still a threat, and I didn't want to frighten Marlene with any arguing," he explains, and Charlie can't help but feel foolish as he lowers his hands. "Charlie, you don't have to pretend you love me for my sake. Is that what you've been doing?"
"I'm not pretending. I do love you."
She feels sorry about it. She has nothing to give him now, nothing to offer him. She has no power here, no influence, no money accessible to her.
No, I still have one thing, she thinks, biting down on her lower lip. Something I've never given anyone else but him.
Afraid that he'll never go through with it, Charlie lays a hand on the side of his face, just to give him a chance to pull away. When he doesn't, she cradles his face with both of her hands and pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him.
He responds in kind, hands jumping to her sides, pushing up her t-shirt in order to splay a hand against the small of her back, fingertips digging lightly into her waist. Charlie wraps her arms around his neck, and he only breaks the kiss to place more of them on her cheekbones, where her skin is wet with tears.
"I love you, too," he whispers, nuzzled against her cheek and pressing messy kisses to her jaw.
She backs Reeve right out of the small closet, allowing him to sweep her off her feet, even if it is short-lived. He drops her gently onto the bed and she lets out a stifled little laugh, not wanting Marlene or Barret to hear through the shared wall. She spreads her arms out to either side of her, feeling very small with him towering over her, one of his knees propped upon the bed, touching the side of her thigh.
It must be a dream. Charlie doesn't think she can rely on herself anymore, because surely this is impossible, surely her brain and imagination have betrayed her. Surely it's the light that makes his eyes look so warm and his smile so soft and kind. She's going to blink and he'll be gone, and everything that he's just said will all have been imagined by her in some form of desperation.
Perhaps she's already dead, but why would Meteor still plague her in the afterlife?
"Taking your sweet time, aren't you?" she says breathlessly, her heart racing.
He smiles at her, moving slowly closer to her until he's resting his forearms on either side of her shoulders. "I just want to look at you for as long as possible," he says, and his voice assures her that this is all very real, "just in case I don't get another chance."
And when Reeve's lips touch the tip of the scar on her neck a few moments after that, Charlie doesn't flinch, hardly able to feel anything but the coarse hair on his face rubbing the unblemished skin around the swollen scar.
It reminds her of the first time, of the clumsy way she had fumbled with him, nervous and excited and afraid to seem inexperienced. The first time had begun because of a desperate ache that refused to be soothed by alcohol or sulking in the dark, and that first time had mostly been borne of Charlie's desire to feel something that wasn't heartache or humiliation.
The first time had been years' worth of pent up frustrations finally coming to fruition, and the result had been so sweet that it had made Charlie numb to the entire world beyond the walls of her father's villa.
So it is now, and she allows herself the temporary respite from the impending apocalypse. Allowing herself this one selfish indulgence provides her with the normalcy she's been craving, able to close her eyes and easily picture the both of them back in their apartment, in the bedroom with the window overlooking all of Sector Eight and the distant reactor.
Though Charlie can't let herself get too lost in whatever fantasy she's trying to project. With other people in the house, she isn't in any position to let herself get carried away. The both of them are resigned to soft whispers in between softer sighs, the bed groaning beneath them every so often.
Sometimes there's laughter—quiet and hushed, sometimes muffled against each other's lips or with their faces buried in each other's necks. He makes her smile like the world isn't going to end, like they have forever to stay here and make love to each other with the moon peering through the window.
"Reeve?" she breathes once.
Reeve's answer is a low hum, lips vibrating against the skin just beneath her ear, and his hair sticks to the back of his neck, damp with sweat when Charlie runs her fingers through it.
She doesn't know how to say it. It shouldn't be this difficult to get the words out, but her throat closes whenever she tries. If she doesn't tell him now, then she never will. She wants him to know that she would have wanted that life too—a family, children, time away from work to spend with each other.
Perhaps he already knows. He knows her better than anyone.
Another painful ache in her heart, a sudden pang that almost makes her cry out. Charlie grabs a fistful of his hair and feels the coiling sensation in her stomach building, a wave of shudders overtaking her body, muscles going limp when he finishes a few moments afterwards.
And when he kisses her again before they lie back down for sleep a few minutes after that, she can still taste herself on the tip of his tongue.
She has never felt such a strong sense of belonging before. Or, maybe she has, and just never recognized it for what it was. It's a feeling that was ever lacking while she was with Avalanche, and it will always be that way so long as she's a Shinra.
It might be a waste of time, sleeping away the hours while Meteor grows closer, but Charlie thinks if the world ended in her sleep tonight, that would be okay.
He's grateful when Tseng calls very early to let him know that the president will be arriving in Kalm very shortly.
Truthfully, Reeve feels very uncomfortable here.
It's not all the time, of course. But since Barret has come to visit, to spend time with his daughter before potentially running off to his death, Reeve can't help but feel that he and Charlie are intruding on something very private and intimate.
The house is still quiet and dark when he makes for the kitchen as the sun is beginning to rise. Charlie had softly and half-heartedly moaned about leaving so early in the morning, but he's just glad to have a chance to leave here and be with his own people—with Charlie's people.
It takes her a little while to get ready, but he had been expecting that, and he only catches sight of her out of the corner of his eye when she enters the kitchen with Cat trailing after her, hair wet from her shower and still barefoot, forcing him to do a double-take from his place by the sink.
She's wearing the blue dress he bought for her, and he does nothing to hide the fact that he's openly staring at her. It's the perfect size for her, stopping a few inches above her knees. He's gifted a sight of her lightly freckled shoulders underneath the thin straps and the fabric presses her breasts together, affording him another sweet sight.
Reeve can't help but think that she looks younger in the dress. It's not often he's seen her in something so casual and plain, always choosing to wear something to make her stand out in a crowd, some new fashion that was taking Midgar by storm. There's something innocent-looking about her, rubbing at her eyes with her knuckles as she sits down at the table.
Too tired to throw together a proper breakfast, and not wanting to make a lot of noise before the sun has risen, he's put out a spread of whatever fruit was left in the refrigerator, toast and jam, and yogurt. It's a sorry spread, if he's being honest, especially compared to Elmyra's typical cooking, but Charlie doesn't complain.
The tip of a fluffy black tail brushes against his leg, and when he makes eye contact with Cat, the small little thing dashes from the room. Typical of Cat, to be terrified of him for no reason whatsoever.
It's a quiet breakfast, and it occurs to him, as he and Charlie lift their eyes at the same time to look at each other, that he can't remember the last time they had breakfast together like this. Breakfast for them was buying something from the cafeteria of the Shinra Building and bringing it back to their respective offices, or late breakfast from a nearby café left with a secretary.
Charlie smiles shyly at him, rubbing the top of her foot against his calf underneath the table. "You look nice today," she says, the first thing she's said all morning.
Reeve looks down at himself, her foot traveling to his knee. He had decided on wearing a tie, wanting to still come across as professional in front of Rufus and the other Turks, especially with Charlie at his side. "Thank you. You look very pretty in that dress."
"Don't you think I'm pretty all the time?" Her foot moves higher, moving back and forth against the inside of his thigh.
"You know that I do."
He's already hard when her foot reaches its predetermined destination, drawing a sigh from him as the heat rises to his cheeks. She puts a strawberry to her mouth, making a show of the bite she takes out of it, acting far too innocent for her own good.
Attempting to finish his breakfast, Reeve doesn't miss the delight Charlie seems to find in the way he squirms and flushes, sighing and clearing his throat to cover soft moans that are pulled from him without his permission. He has no idea how long she keeps it up, unsure if the sun has even changed positions, unable to recall what it had looked like before she started this.
It's impossible to focus with her foot in between his legs, not stopping once until he wraps his fingers around her ankle to stop her himself, completely breathless.
"What's wrong?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.
Burning with embarrassment, he manages to choke out in a low voice, "Gods, Charlotte, you're going to make me come in my pants."
"You have other pants, don't you?" She grins, tracing her upper teeth with her tongue, trying to move her foot closer. "Don't you want to finish?"
"Charlotte," he hisses, tightening his grip around her ankle as she continues her attempt to get back to him.
She jerks out of his grip and Reeve fears he's made her angry, but she only springs up from her chair and takes him by the hand, dragging him to the bathroom.
It's easy enough to bend her over the sink, lift her sundress, and push aside the thin fabric that covers her cunt, slamming into her so quickly that she's forced to bite down on her fist to stifle a strangled cry.
She's more beautiful than ever, now that he's able to touch her instead of gazing at her through a computer screen. Charlie lifts her head to look into the mirror and he's offered a lovely view of her reflection. Her typically pale face is flushed pink, lips slightly swollen and parted as she breathes raggedly.
She's so beautiful that he takes a moment to slow his pace, tugging gently on her hair to turn her face and press a kiss to her temple. He smooths back her damp hair and meets her eyes in the mirror, returning her small smile with one of his own.
Even when they leave shortly after defiling the bathroom, the house is still quiet. He's grateful for that much, at least.
Before he pulls away from the front, Charlie turns to him to ask, "We aren't going to bring Cait Sith?"
Bewildered, he considers it. "I won't really need him where we're going." The answer is enough to appease her, but just for her thoughtfulness, he brings her fingers to his lips before pulling onto the street, never letting go of her hand.
As he drives to the house that Tseng had told him about—a Shinra-owned building (like many of these rebuilt homes, probably unbeknownst to Charlie), he starts to become slightly more nervous.
Reeve had assumed Charlie would be happy to see her brother again. And besides, the president's spirits would likely benefit from a visit from his sister. But now, he isn't so sure. Perhaps he should have told her, just to give her time to mentally prepare.
When he pulls up in front of the house, a white sedan is parked along the street ahead of them. Charlie glances up at the building through the car's window. It's a small house compared to the other Shinra-owned ones around the world, but this house in particular was never meant for President Shinra or his children to stay in. The curtains in the second-story windows have all been closed.
"What's here?" she asks, frowning at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
Reeve clears his throat, turning the car off. "I've been talking to Tseng these past few days."
"You've been talking to Tseng?" she repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. "About what?"
He pauses, toying with the car keys. "The Turks have decided to relocate your brother from Midgar to . . . here."
Charlie turns in her seat again to look at the house, temporarily quiet. And then she faces him again, shaking her head. "Oh, Reeve, this is very sweet," she begins, "but we don't have to do this—"
"No, no. I want to." Feeling a little more relieved, he smiles reassuringly at her. "Just come in."
Tseng is the one to open the door after he rings the doorbell in a pattern, just like they agreed upon, greeting the both of them and answering Reeve's light questions about their drive in from Midgar with professional courtesy. He greets Charlie a little more warmly, but that's to be expected.
Elena has come, as well. She's lounging on the sofa of the sitting room, her leg bouncing with anxiety as she fiddles with the television remote. She waves at them both from her place, fighting with the buttons.
"Your brother is upstairs," Tseng tells Charlie, gesturing towards a narrow staircase off to the side. "He's awake, and will need his bandages changed. I can show you both how it needs to be done, if you'd like."
Charlie glances up at Reeve, as if seeking his permission. He doesn't mind, truly—if he did, he wouldn't have brought her here. He's feeling a little more inclined towards forgiveness in these last few days.
"Please," he replies to Tseng for her, "show us."
Rufus is too exhausted, and in too much pain, to play any games with them.
Charlie, Reeve, and Tseng all enter the bedroom together. Three people he has greatly wronged, and yet the only three people who may still care in any way about him despite that.
His sister looks so sweet and lovely in the blue sundress she's wearing, the beautiful sister he had almost allowed to be executed, the loving sister he had hurt in his own rage. She even smiles at him, no matter how undeserving he is of it, sitting down on the edge of his bed so Reeve can have the empty chair.
"How are you feeling?" she asks quietly, covering his limp hand with her own, her eyes traveling up and down his exposed body.
A blanket covers him from the waist down, but he isn't wearing a shirt, which means the bandages around his chest and neck and waist are out in the open, his broken and heavily bruised body on display for them all to gawk at and privately comment on when they leave the room. Rufus can hardly move, especially with the cast around his foot, needing help to even get into his wheelchair.
"You look very pretty today," is all he can think to say, his voice hoarse.
His sister smiles, but there's something akin to pity in her expression that he doesn't like.
"I need to change your bandages, sir," Tseng says quietly, glancing over the bed at Charlie. "I'm going to show them how, if that's all right."
Rufus clenches his jaw and purses his lips, but nods. It had taken two nurses to do it at the hospital, but they had been professionals, and Rufus hadn't felt any sort of connection to either of them, but this is different. These are people who he has hid his vulnerability from for nearly half his life, save for Charlie, and the thought of them all cooing over him makes his heart beat very fast.
Charlie helps him sit up straight, but the pain makes him moan softly. Tseng reaches around and begins to unravel the bandages already around him, leaving his torso bare for everyone to see.
No one says anything, but that doesn't mean they aren't thinking about it. He knows what he looks like, covered in purple bruises and half-healed wounds.
"Help me, Charlotte," Tseng says, almost a command, and even Rufus is surprised at how quickly she obeys him, without a single scowl or hesitation or word of protest. The Turk picks up the fresh bandages from the nightstand and shows her where to begin, passing the bandages around Rufus's waist to her so she can just pass it back again.
Reeve takes over Charlie's job, one gentle hand on Rufus's arm to keep him in place, another hand just below the nape of his neck, keeping him propped up as straight as possible. Charlie's fingertips swipe over his skin, and one of Tseng's hands touches the bandages to make certain they're tight enough, and suddenly, Rufus can't take it anymore.
He isn't sure what causes him to overreact to such simple and kind touches, but he's unable to squirm away from them, so as Charlie wraps the bandage around his left breast, Rufus hisses, "Stop it! Stop!"
Everyone jumps away from him, pulling their hands away and holding them up in defense. Without Reeve to keep him in a sitting position, Rufus falls back onto his pillows with a pained grunt, feeling his entire face stinging with embarrassment.
He closes his eyes, breathing very heavily. "Get out, all of you," he orders them, his voice breaking. "Except for Charlie."
He waits for the heavy footsteps to exit the room, the door closing behind them, before opening his eyes again. Charlie looks sad, still seated at the edge of the bed, brushing off the front of her dress.
Needing to siphon off some of his humiliation, he snaps, "If that brute puts his hands on me again—"
"He's only trying to help," she answers patiently, giving him a rather disappointed look.
"I don't need his sympathy," he continues, knowing he shouldn't. At least, not to Charlie's face. "I don't need his pity."
Feeling helpless, broken, useless, and childish, Rufus cries hot and frustrated tears in front of his sister, gritting his teeth as if that will stop him from crying. Charlie holds his hand with both of her own, bringing it to her mouth and kissing his knuckles very chastely.
"Rufus, it's all right," she whispers, combing his hair out of his face. "Rufus, we love you. We love you so much. We just want to help you."
She means well, but it only makes everything worse. The fat tears sting his cheeks and the humiliation of Charlie knowing why he's suddenly suffering from some form of panic attack is almost too much to bear.
He's used to her touches, however, and her touch brings him unimaginable comfort in that moment, even just holding his hand.
"Do you want me to do the rest of your bandages?" she asks, and Rufus nods very quickly, allowing himself—in what may be the last moments he gets to spend with his sister, if Meteor strikes the planet—to play the part of needy younger brother again, to indulge himself in this final comfort.
Picking up where she and Tseng left off, Charlie lets him lean forward on her so she's able to wrap up the rest of his chest and neck. When she finishes, she admires her work and helps him settle back onto all of his pillows.
"You should get some rest," she urges him, not returning to her place upon the bed. "And afterwards, we can sit on the patio together. It's a beautiful day."
Rufus is very thankful that Charlie will give him some space, time to make it look like he hasn't been crying. She lingers, smoothing back his hair some more. He doesn't know why he says it. "Will you stay with me? Just for a little while."
"Okay."
But once she administers the pain medication on the dresser, he falls asleep rather quickly. He doesn't know how long she stays after that.
The doorbell rings again an hour or so after he had been asked to leave Rufus's bedside, in the same obnoxious and repetitive pattern that had been established as their code.
Tseng tells Elena to answer the door, deep in conversation with Reeve about the state of Midgar and the Shinra Building. Weapon's attack had leveled much of the top-side buildings with the debris that had fallen and the fire that had started. Emergency services were little enough, with most of Shinra's workers abandoning the company at the final hour.
When Reeve sees who's following Elena into the living room, he jumps to his feet, flexing his fingers and suddenly wishing that Charlie was by his side.
It's not the sight of Veld that gets him worked up, but the sight of the man beside him. Vincent Valentine strides into the room, red eyes flicking over him like Reeve hasn't just spent weeks in his company (not that Vincent would know that).
"Where's Charlotte?" Veld asks Reeve, shaking his hand firmly.
"Upstairs, with Rufus. There's already been an incident."
As he describes Rufus's small panic attack in the bedroom to Veld, Vincent's eyes suddenly widen in comprehension, and he looks again at Reeve, subjecting him to a rather critical inspection. Trailing off awkwardly, Reeve clears his throat and looks helplessly at Veld, who doesn't seem to notice anything is off.
"Reeve," Vincent says after a few moments of silence, not quite a question, but not at all accusatory.
Reeve looks around at the others, wringing his hands in front of him. "Yes?" And when Vincent scoffs into his collar, he can't help but add sharply, "Is something funny?"
"You were hoping I wouldn't make the connection?"
"Have you not met the kid yet, Vince?" Veld claps a hand on Reeve's shoulder, making him feel like he's twenty-five all over again, very childish in the former director's shadow.
"Not formally, I suppose," Vincent remarks, and while he looks cold and imposing, he seems much warmer than Barret had been during their first meeting. "Charlotte has told me very, very much about you."
As the heat rises to his cheeks (it's not like he was actively attempting to hide his identity . . . maybe), Reeve tries to think of everything Charlie may have told this former Turk about him. Surely terrible things, as she had been furious upon learning that he was spying on them.
"All good things," Vincent says again, easing Reeve's fears instantly.
Reeve smiles nervously, but is saved from further conversation by the sound of Charlie's voice from the top of the stairs. He looks up to see her wide-eyed and looking down at them all, one hand on the banister. "Vincent!" she gasps. "What are you doing here?"
"I hope you haven't rescinded the offer you made me in Midgar."
"No," Charlie breathes after a moment, "no, of course not. I'm so glad to see you. I'm—" She looks them over again, her eyes settling on Reeve's. He watches her mouth curl into a smile. "I'm just so glad that you're all here."
She skips gracefully down the stairs, sidling up beside Veld while continuing to flash sly smiles at Reeve. It looks so natural, seeing Veld talk to Tseng and Elena about returning to Midgar with his prosthetic arm wrapped around Charlie's shoulders, her arm around his middle and her head resting on his shoulder.
After a few minutes, Charlie's eyes glaze over and Reeve knows that she's not listening to a single thing being said. She's a million miles away from here right now, but she doesn't look at all unhappy. In fact, she looks the complete opposite, like she's finally been reunited with her family and the people she loves most.
When the conversation ends, Veld kisses her head in an almost distracted way, promising to be back in a moment with Vincent. Tseng beckons Elena to follow him upstairs, wanting to check on the president, leaving Reeve alone with Charlie in the living room.
Not wanting to reflect back on this moment and wish he had used his time with her more wisely, he quickly reaches out to grab her face in his hands, kissing her hard while no one is looking.
When he pulls away, she looks dazed, swaying on her feet and flushed. "What was that for?" she asks breathlessly.
Reeve shrugs, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth unbidden. "I just wanted to kiss you."
Charlie giggles behind her hand. "You've met Vincent, I see."
"Yes, I have."
"I hope he didn't tell you anything embarrassing. I sort of . . . talked a lot about you with him. All good things, of course."
"That's good to hear," he smiles, moving forward to hold her, this woman he loves so much. He doesn't care anymore what she's done, only that she's here now with him during the end of the world.
"Is it?" she asks, looking up at him and splaying both hands over his chest as he wraps his arms around her waist. "You thought I might say not-so-good things about you?"
"You would have had reason to."
"You think?" Charlie is smiling again, reminiscent of relatively easier days, of better days. It's good to see her playful, and doubly sweet to know that it's him she's chosen to be playful around. "I don't know that I'm capable of speaking badly of a man who has spent years of his life being nothing but kind and loving towards me."
He smiles bashfully. "I've loved you for a very long time," he whispers, half-afraid of someone listening in on something so intimate. Reeve has to remind himself that the house is not empty, and full of spies.
"I know," she teases, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Me too."
"No," he protests, not unkindly. "I've loved you since . . ." He squirms suddenly, unsure of where he's going with this. He has a hard time genuinely believing that telling Charlie he's been in love with her since she was a teenager is an appropriate thing to say right now, and he doesn't really know why he wants to. Maybe he just wants her to know that his feelings have never, and will never change.
"Since . . . ?" she prompts him innocently, raising her eyebrows.
When was it, really? The night she had come to his apartment, crying and bruised and bleeding, trusting him to care for her? The way she had blushed upon removing her shirt and lying face-down on the sofa so he could tend to the wounds on her back? The way she had curled up beside him on the sofa like a cat that night in a loose-fitting t-shirt of his, the tops of her feet tucked underneath his thigh?
She had been gone when he woke the next morning, no sign of her anywhere, and he had been half-convinced it was all just a dream.
No, it was before that, but that was the night he had been certain it wasn't just the infatuation he was frightened it was.
It was poring over her plans for a rocket ship and leaving him dumbfounded by it, looking up from the plans at Charlotte and realizing that the young girl beside him was far smarter than people gave her credit for and knew it.
His hands move to her upper arms, skin warm to the touch and so soft beneath his hands.
"Since I first met you," he confesses, not feeling half as ashamed as he thought he might, uncertain if that's a good or bad thing. "Ever since I first spoke to you."
To his surprise, Charlie laughs. It's sweet and soft and the only sound he wants to hear before the world ends. "Me too," she says again with a flash of her perfect teeth, looking at something over his shoulder. "Ask Veld. He knows all about it."
"All about what?" comes Veld's voice from behind him.
Reeve releases her, putting a respectful distance between them and turning around. "About how much I talked about Reeve," she answers casually, her cheeks still pink.
Veld gives him an exasperated look, moving fully into the living room and adjusting the watch on his wrist. "Every other damned sentence out of that girl's mouth was 'Reeve did this' and 'Reeve likes that' and 'Reeve said this'."
Charlie giggles again, and the knowledge that she isn't just saying that to make him feel better floods his entire being with warmth and love. Or perhaps a little bit of that is embarrassment.
"Mind if I steal her from you for a little?" Veld asks, gesturing towards Charlie with his chin. "I think we have a lot to talk about."