Tseng was right—Midgar is in utter chaos.
High winds blow debris at dangerous speeds through the air, and several tornadoes have cropped up in the wake of Meteor's intimidating closeness. It's pouring rain, as well, soaking them all to the bone and making his teeth chatter.
It had all happened so quickly that he couldn't really get a good look around. Tseng and Veld had met them at the entrance to Midgar proper and immediately pulled them into the back of an armored truck before taking off towards the crumbling remains of the Shinra Building, the top half of it gone completely.
There had been no time to speak. While Veld drove through the downpour, Tseng was already giving orders and explanations to Charlie, who had listened with a wide-eyed expression as he spoke to her in a desperate tone.
"The Turks know better, but the rest of the army and the civilians are under the assumption that you're the president now," he had told her, and Charlie hadn't seemed surprised in the slightest. "They're waiting for their orders, so get ready."
And when they had arrived at the Shinra Building and gotten out of the armored truck and back into the bone-chilling rain, Tseng pressed a bullhorn to her chest, hurrying her towards the front of the building, where people were supposedly waiting to receive their instructions.
"Listen to me," Tseng had told her, just before bringing her in front of the people. "Chin up, shoulders back—good, just like that. Stand up straight while you give orders and speak very clearly. You don't want to have any misunderstandings now."
"What am I supposed to tell them?" Charlie had asked, looking at Reeve for reassurance, but he had been quiet nearly the entire time, willing to go with whatever plan the Turks had come up with.
"Tell them whatever you please. You're their president."
And goddamnit, she looks the part.
Reeve and Veld stand a little ways away from Charlie, who looks out over the sea of shadows, far more people than he had anticipated, and Tseng, who stands stoic and silent at her right side just like he had with Rufus. Her hair hangs lank and water-logged on either side of her face, makeup smeared under her eyes, clothes sticking to her skin.
Finally, Charlie looks up at Meteor, the sky bright red as if the entire city were ablaze, and holds the bullhorn to her mouth.
"As of this moment," she begins in a booming voice that seems to quiet all of Midgar, until the only sound is the howling of the wind and the slapping of the rain against the ground, "the Shinra Electric Power Company's sole goal and mission is to evacuate and save as many lives as possible."
Charlie lowers it for a moment, breathing very heavily in the red light.
"I know that it's dangerous, and I will not ask anyone to die for me, which is why I say this," she continues, adapting so quickly and easily to her position that it almost makes Reeve sad. "Those of you who would return to your family and loved ones, go now. Should we survive, your choice to evacuate will not be held against you. Leave now, and no one will stop you."
Reeve looks out at the crowd. To his surprise, no one—as far as he can see—chooses to leave. There's a bit of restless shifting among the infantrymen and guards, but all the Turks look determined. He hadn't really expected any of the Turks to abandon Charlie now.
Satisfied, Charlie begins to bark out orders with help from Tseng, who has been taking control of the madness in her absence. Reeve watches her closely, arms folded over his chest to keep from shivering too badly.
"She's a Shinra all right, isn't she?" Veld chuckles.
"Yes," Reeve has to admit, "she is."
"Intimidating, isn't it?"
It's a joke, but there's too much truth in it for Reeve to laugh. "A little," he confesses.
"She was born for this. But that ring looks pretty on her finger, doesn't it?"
He doesn't know why his first reaction is immediately defensive. It feels as if Veld is mocking him, like he's pathetic to have given a million-gil engagement ring back to a woman who left him and found solace in other men along the way. Every muscle in Reeve's entire body tenses, teeth gritted and his hands curled into fists.
"Oh, calm down, man," Veld scoffs, rolling his eyes upon catching sight of the cold look on Reeve's face. "I already told you that I'm fine with it."
"Sorry," Reeve murmurs, running a hand down his face. The small awning off the front of the Shinra Building does little to shield them from the rain. Of course Veld wouldn't mock him.
He fixes his eyes on Charlie again. She is absolutely radiant even in her disheveled state, confident as she relays orders in a way that Reeve thinks might make her father proud, so long as he was ignorant to the blatant kindness and leniency she's offering the people.
This is a Charlie that he recognizes very well from her youth. This is a Charlie who knows her station and understands what that means for her.
"Is it selfish?" he wonders out loud. "To want to bring her away from this?"
Veld grunts. "It would be a kindness, if you ask me. She doesn't have the stomach to lead her father's company. If we make it through this, Shinra will be nothing but a fallen empire comprised of shadows. She's too soft to lead a company built on blood." Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he tears his gaze away from Charlie to look at Reeve. "She could be a leader, but not Shinra's. Even if her brother weren't alive to run the company, you'd have to rebuild the entire thing from the ground. It'll never be the same. You'd have to put her in charge of some other new organization, one that lacks such a sordid history."
"A new organization?"
"Someone is going to have to clean up the mess, and I don't think the people are going to have as much confidence in Shinra."
Reeve observes Veld's sharp and rugged profile, thinking hard as a few more people break off at Charlie's command. "Something like that would cost a lot of money."
"Well, it's a good thing that you're on relatively good terms with the richest little brats on the planet."
He blinks at the other man. Veld doesn't seem to be joking in the slightest, and Reeve scoffs. "I could never ask that of Charlie. Besides . . ."
"Well," Veld shrugs. "Something to think about if we make it through this."
Before Reeve can respond, he meets Charlie's eyes as she lowers the bullhorn again, having sent everyone on their way save for a few Turks that still linger by Tseng, listening intently as they're paired off and sent away. The moment she's near enough, she reaches out for him.
"Did I do okay?" she asks him, wide-eyed and coy and clinging onto his sleeve. "Did I sound good?"
"It was perfect. You did a wonderful job," he assures her, truthful as can be. Smoothing her hair back, Charlie smiles up at him, and he steals a kiss from her like he used to, as if she's just finished with an internationally broadcasted speech in the press room. "You did beautifully. I mean it."
"Thank you." She closes her eyes to accept another kiss on her forehead, his hands still cradling her face.
"We ready, then? Or should we give you a little more time alone to finish what you've started?"
Both Reeve and Charlie blush heatedly the moment the words leave Veld's mouth, but his tone is not entirely unkind or irritated.
"What's the status on Cloud and the others?" Tseng asks curtly, dark hair sticking to his cheeks.
"They're almost at the bottom of the Northern Crater. It can't be much further or longer now." Reeve cranes his neck back, though he hardly has to in order to see Meteor now. It could very well have replaced the sky over Midgar. "But I'm afraid that they might be too late. If Holy was going to work, it would have done so by now."
Charlie is breathing very heavily, looking up at Meteor with a crease between her eyebrows. After a moment, she looks back down at everyone, eyes flicking over them each in turn. "I don't want anyone to die for me. I meant that," she says. "And I especially don't want any of you to—"
"Charlotte, we're not leaving," Veld tells her firmly. "It's our job to follow you to the end of the world, if need be, Madam Vice President. Can't turn my back on you now."
Tseng doesn't say anything, but gives her a little nod that seems to speak volumes to her. She softens slightly, looking less troubled, but she still turns to face Reeve with a very doubtful look in her eyes.
"We're with you, Charlie," Reeve says, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "Just say the word."
"I just love you all so much." She's forced to speak loudly over the sound of the raging storm, but her voice does not waver. It's just as confident now as it had been when she was shouting orders through a bullhorn. Swallowing hard, she adds, "After this is all over, we meet right here."
"You got it, kiddo." Veld looks them over almost curiously, hard stare lingering a little too long on his face. "That's my little girl, Reeve. You take care of her."
"Gods, Veld, you're embarrassing me," Charlie chokes out, but her fingers find their way around Reeve's bicep all the same, leaning into him.
Reeve smiles down at her, pushing his wet hair back out of his face. There's a pink tint to her cheekbones that's endearing, the knowledge that she has time to blush and become flustered during a time like this.
"We'll see you soon," Tseng tells Charlie, and he hurries away with Veld before anyone gets the chance to say good-bye—not that anyone was really jumping at the chance.
Her confidence is shaky at best when Veld and Tseng disappear from sight, rounding the Shinra Building and towards a helicopter that will allow them to search the streets more quickly. Upon realizing that she's faltered, Charlie quickly rearranges her features again, almost as if flicking a switch in her mind with the utmost ease.
Despite the indifference on her face, Charlie takes hold of Reeve's hand. "Let's go," she tells him, meaning to start back towards the armored truck that Tseng and Veld had decided to allow them to use. Giving his hand a gentle tug, Charlie turns back around when he doesn't budge. "We're running out of time!"
Reeve pulls on her hand, sending her stumbling awkwardly into his chest, but he catches her with both arms around her waist before she can free herself—as if she would resist. Without wasting any time, he captures her mouth with his own, her lips wet and cold, but when her hand comes to rest upon the nape of his neck, her touch is fire against his skin.
Knowing that he doesn't have all the time in the world to do this, he pulls away before he can get lost in it. "Okay," he pants, admiring the doe-eyed and dreamy look on her face. "Now let's go."
It's slow going, but not completely a waste.
Shouting out the window through the bullhorn, Charlie calls for anyone still living top-side to evacuate immediately, allowing frightened residents to take shelter in the back of the truck while Reeve navigates the debris-strewn and broken roads in the pouring rain.
He can't help but think how cruel it is, that he might fall even more madly in love with her during what might be their last hours, listening to her reassure the people in the truck with soft whispers and hushed reassurances that they will be safe below the plate, in the undercity.
Freyra and Juget are waiting with another truck at the entrance to the railway, the back opened for the residents to climb into.
"You know, it's good to see you again, Madam Vice President," Freyra says with a nervous and crooked smile. She inclines her head politely at Reeve. "Director."
"Thanks," Charlie replies lightly. "You, too."
Juget's eyes sweep up and down Reeve. "That's still going on, huh?" she asks Charlie flatly, cocking an eyebrow.
He sighs, giving Juget an exasperated and pointed smile. "It's good to see you again, Juget."
Reeve looks around to inspect the damages. The station is still intact, but the buildings are all dark and crumbling, and downed power lines block the roads. The conditions of the roads are horrible, and there's no possible way for them to continue driving towards the reactor, as the laid concrete has been cracked so badly that their truck would fall right into the crack.
If they make it through this, he knows there will be no rebuilding Midgar. It is already too far beyond repair, and by the time the storms have had their say, many of these buildings will likely not exist at all anymore. Rebuilding in this state would be foolish, exponentially more expensive than the attempted rebuilding of Sector Seven.
"You looked pretty good up in front of all of those people," Juget adds, elbowing Charlie and nodding in towards the truck.
Charlie seems delighted by the compliment, even as she walks away from him and Freyra. "Do you think so . . . ?"
He takes the time to turn towards the Turk at his elbow, the same Turk that Charlie had hated all those years ago, simply for making conversation with the pilot. "Tseng told me you've been keeping very busy lately," Reeve replies, raising an eyebrow and stepping out of the way as a family tries to get to Charlie and Juget.
"Oh, but you've made it so easy for Emma and me," Freyra chuckles, one hand on her hip as her eyes scan the small crowd of people. "Keeping tabs on you is nothing like keeping tabs on Miss Shinra."
Reeve glances up at Charlie, who meets his eyes and smiles shyly, lifting a small child.
Juget closes the back of the truck loudly after the last few people climb in. "C'mon, Freyra, let's get going."
"Make sure you guys get to a safe place soon, as well," Charlie tells the Turks, very sincerely, before they drive down the railway and towards the slums. "Veld and Tseng are going to meet us at the Shinra Building when this is all over."
"Yes, ma'am," Freyra grins, hanging out the open passenger window, all of them oblivious and unbothered by the rain that continues to whip them in their faces, helped on by the strong gales that are getting worse. "By the way, I heard you took that pretty little rocket of yours to outer space, Miss Shinra."
Reeve tenses, a hand splayed between Charlie's shoulders as she rests her forearms on the window, but he need not have worried at all.
Charlie smiles, shrugging very casually, like the feat was no big deal. "Took me long enough, didn't it?" she says, scoffing quietly and patting the side of the truck. "Get going. Be careful."
"And you," Juget nods, putting the truck in gear, rolling up Freyra's window, turning the blinding headlights on, and starting down the railway very carefully.
"Don't take the expressway."
"Why not?"
"We can go to my father's house, and I can take us the back way."
"Your father's house?"
Charlie smiles at him awkwardly, turning in the passenger seat to admire him properly. "There's a bunker there, underneath the house. I've been in there twice before, but only to look." It's a small thing, she recalls, a safe place in case an attack were to be launched on the estate or something. She doesn't really know why Father put it there. "Unless you have any better ideas?"
"No," he answers quietly, focusing on the road ahead of him. "It's fine. I think I can get there myself."
There are still people that need their help, however. They find some residents who are trapped in their home, a fire quickly spreading from the spark produced by power lines, and Charlie holds her breath as a frantic mother sees them and drops her small child out of a second story window without warning, only breathing again when Reeve moves forward very quickly to catch the toddler in his outstretched arms. The mother slides out of the window next, unable to be caught by Charlie, and she lands hopelessly on her ankle and needs to be carried to the truck.
The child screams the entire ride, unable to stop looking at their mother's bloody leg, and Reeve brings them to Maur, the nearest Turk, who promises to bring the woman and her daughter down to the slums with the last few evacuees from Sector Three.
Unfortunately, the closer they get to her father's estate, the more danger they find themselves in. A tornado has ravaged much of the surrounding neighborhoods and businesses, and it shakes the truck violently, despite it being weighed down. With the road ahead blocked by debris, they have no choice but to wait out the twister, sitting silent in the truck as it passes by them, headed towards the nearest reactor in a fury.
And then, when Reeve turns the key in the ignition afterwards, nothing happens.
"Damn," he mutters, trying again and again and again to no avail. "We were so close."
"We could still make it on foot," Charlie suggests, looking out the window through the pouring rain. It will be an uncomfortable trip, but she can't just sit here and wait for Meteor to hit or for Sephiroth to die. "Up for one last adventure?"
When she turns to look at him, he's smiling weakly. "All right," he agrees, reaching into the backseat to grab his bag. "One last adventure."
She giggles, surprised that she's still capable of laughing. "But this time, it'll just be you and me."
"Those are my favorite kinds of adventures." He gives her a weary smile, and she knows that he is bone-tired, running on fumes, slowly being eaten away by regrets and guilt. After catching her staring for a little too long, he asks, "What?"
Charlie shrugs, shaking her head. Without saying anything, she tucks his wet hair behind his ears and kisses him on the mouth. When she pulls away, her breath comes shakily, due to a multitude of reasons—the freezing rain that's soaked her clothes, her restless nerves, the proximity of their faces and the feeling of his feverish skin underneath her fingertips.
"You're warm," she whispers, frowning. "Maybe we should find somewhere closer to wait things out."
"I'll be fine."
"Let me just take a look at the engine. I might be able to get the truck started again."
"It's pouring rain outside, Charlie. I'm all right. Let's get going."
Reluctantly, Charlie follows him out of the truck. She isn't sure how much more of this she can handle, and the uncertainty is the worst part. Whatever is going on at the Northern Crater, Reeve can see it all, but she's afraid to ask. He pushes onward, however, like it matters where they find shelter because the world may not end tonight, and that gives her hope.
The gate around her father's estate is locked, but Reeve breaks it with a well-aimed shot from his gun, and they're able to walk right up to the front doors. The house is unsettlingly still and silent and dark, standing tall and brooding over the surrounding destruction, and Charlie does not doubt that Meteor will leave this home untouched in some way by the end of the night.
"Do you have a key?" Reeve asks her, tugging at the front doors.
She doesn't know why she had expected them to be unlocked. "No," she admits sheepishly. "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, taking hold of her arm to pull her away from the door, his gun held up at the wide window. Holding her to his chest, Reeve fires, and the bullet shatters the window. With a kick of his leg, the glass gives and offers them a way inside.
"Sorry," he says as an afterthought. "If we live through this, I'll have that fixed for you."
Charlie can't tell if he's joking, truthfully. He's so deadly serious that it makes her nervous. "Don't worry about it. Follow me."
Their shoes squeak on the marble flooring as Charlie takes him towards her father's study, a place that was off-limits to her and Rufus as children. Sometimes, during good days, their father would let them read inside before bed while he finished his work by lamplight.
The lights don't work, of course, so everything is done by the light of Reeve's phone and the red glow that filters through the windows. Everything is covered in dust, even the chair that was once her father's favorite, placed right by the extravagant fireplace. Charlie recalls, briefly, falling asleep in her father's lap once in that chair, listening to him read a book that was for adults and was complete nonsense to her.
She pulls back the corner of the area carpet, a thick thing imported from Wutai. Mother had decorated Father's study. He always liked to remind Charlie of that fact when she complimented the decor.
The trapdoor won't budge at first, but she's able to jerk it open eventually, nearly falling backwards. A rush of cold air comes from below, and it stinks like air that's been sitting for twenty years (she supposes it has been about that long).
"Watch your step," she warns him, as he steps up to the edge of the hole in the ground with his phone held out, shining a light down into the pit. "I'll go first."
"Don't be ridiculous." Pushing her gently out of the way, Reeve slides down carefully. There's a slight drop-off, she knows, and she can hear him grunt when he lands, his phone spilling from his hand and casting him into shadow.
"Reeve! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Stop worrying about me." He shines the light towards her, allowing her to see the ground and how far the drop is. "It's a bit . . ."
"A bit what?" Charlie pushes herself down, landing gracefully on her feet. Tugging at a string hanging down from the trapdoor, she seals them inside and she understands what his problem is.
The cramped little bunker is very small. He's forced to hunch slightly to keep his head from brushing across the ceiling.
It's a wide room with white walls, smaller than the bedroom she shared with Reeve in her apartment, barely furnished and dusty and cold. There are two cots side-by-side in a corner, and a cabinet that holds supplies. Charlie opens the cabinet immediately, finding candles and matches, lighting them one at a time and spacing them out around the room.
There are blankets and pillows within and canned food that expired years and years ago and a wireless radio. There's enough water to last them a few days if they're careful with it, but Charlie doesn't anticipate being here for more than a few hours. Either she survives and leaves as soon as possible, or she does here.
"It's not much," she tells him sheepishly, though it's much more comfortable with candles lit and softening the harsh white of the walls. "And if Meteor strikes, it's likely the plate will collapse anyway."
"It's fine," he assures her with a smile, slipping out of his jacket and letting it fall heavily to the ground. Charlie watches him fidget with his tie, sighing when it comes loose around his neck.
She decides to follow his lead, stripping out of her wet clothes until she's standing nearly naked, blushing all over and covered in goosebumps, her back to him as he changes into dry clothing brought from Kalm.
She can't hear anything going on outside. The bunker muffles the wind and rain, leaving it eerily silent within. She still is afraid to ask about her friends, but Reeve would tell her if something was wrong, if they were dead, if the world was about to end in minutes.
Shivering even in a long-sleeved shirt, Charlie is forced to grit her teeth to keep them from chattering, her jaw aching. She scours the cabinet for medicine to give him that might ease his fever, and though the bottles of water are all very old, she offers him some before inspecting some of the food.
It's only when a blanket is draped over her shoulders from behind that she relaxes slightly, turning around to face Reeve as he looks down at her with tired eyes. Her own eyes flick up and down his body, making him blush.
"Please don't," he murmurs, turning his face away. "These are my casual clothes."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"Was not," she retorts with a smile. "You look nice." Charlie smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric of his sweater. "I'm just not used to seeing you dressed down, I guess."
"Sorry."
"No, it's all right. I could have . . . been better about that, as well." But she doesn't want to talk about regrets, no matter how heavily they weigh on her. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Stop worrying about me," he rasps, tightening the blanket around her. "Why don't you get some rest?"
Charlie shakes her head. "I can't. Let me get one of the beds set up for you—"
"No, sweetheart. Stop worrying." He touches her shoulders gently. "Let's just get comfortable."
Regardless of his exasperated laughter, Charlie insists on setting it up herself, pushing the cots aside and rearranging candles, propping up pillows and laying out blankets. She wants everything to be perfect for him, as perfect as it can be, because isn't it her fault that he's in this position in the first place? If it weren't for her, he might have been far away from Midgar a long time ago, right?
He lowers himself to the ground after she gives his hand a gentle and pleading tug. The floor isn't so uncomfortable after padding it with blankets, and it's likely better than the old cots.
For a long time, she just sits on her knees, looking at him. She doesn't know what else to do. It's all but over now, and she and Reeve are stuck in a small bunker below her father's estate, hiding away while their friends risk their lives.
Charlie lowers her eyes. She hadn't realized she was still clinging tight to his hand. The ring on her finger catches the firelight, shining beautifully. It takes all of her strength not to cry—she must be brave, if not for herself, then for him.
Reeve is admirably calm, probably for her own sake. He can't possibly be okay with this. He can't possibly not want to scream about how unfair it is that this is the way it ends. That's what she wants to do.
But screaming about how unfair the situation is isn't going to do anything. It isn't going to help. It isn't going to stop Meteor, and it isn't going to bring her friends luck. Screaming about how unfair it is will not bring Aerith back, or change the things that she's done.
Did I do everything I could? she asks herself, unable to answer honestly. Was I good?
Charlie releases her hands quickly. His eyebrows knit together. "What's wrong?"
"I just . . ." She pauses, cradling her hands to her chest. "All I wanted was to be good, and . . ."
She thinks of Mako Reactor One, of all the people killed in the explosion, lying on the ground with their flesh sloughing off. She thinks of the Sector Seven plate dropping and the mass graves that were being dug just outside the slums. She thinks of all the times she had stood by while her father did little to conceal his crimes, all of the times she had reassured the public that all was safe, that Shinra would take care of them.
She thinks of the Turks, of her friends and family who are murderers and thieves and spies, and proud of it. She thinks of all the Turks she loves and would defend with her life, despite knowing who they are.
No matter what she does, or where she goes, the Shinra legacy will follow her everywhere, and the blood on her hands will never be washed clean if she lives.
Reeve reaches out, covering her hands with his own. "Whatever you think of yourself," he begins slowly, "can the same not be said for me?"
"No!" she protests, the heat rising to her cheeks. "No, you're not—"
"Could the same not be said of Barret and Tifa? Of Cloud? They were involved in the reactor bombing, as well. I did nothing to stop the plate from falling. I used Barret's young daughter as leverage against him and the others, did I not?"
Charlie blushes harder, finding it very difficult to look him in the eyes, but not wanting him to pull his hands away. "That's different—"
"Not one of us was perfect, Charlie," he insists, squeezing tight. "And no one expected you to be perfect—least of all me." It sounds like he's smiling. When she lifts her eyes, she's pleasantly surprised to find it's true. "You did a wonderful thing with Avalanche."
At this, she looks away again, sighing. "I didn't do anything. I ran away. I left when it mattered the most."
"You didn't run away," Reeve says, but she doesn't think it's the truth. "You came back to your city and people when they needed you most. You went where you knew you would be most useful and you did what you could. Does that not make you a hero?"
Charlie doesn't answer for a few moments. She doesn't know what to say. It won't matter. "Living up to my expectations. Doing my duty. That doesn't make me a hero."
"Then what would?"
She looks at his face again, smiling sheepishly. "I've always thought . . . that you were a hero, I suppose."
"Me?" he asks, genuinely bewildered. Blinking at her in surprise, Reeve scoffs. "Why?"
She smiles wider when his lips touch her fingers, never letting go of her hands. "When I came to you that night, nearly ten years ago, and you let me into your apartment, fed me, gave me clothes to sleep in, a couch to sleep on, and you didn't tell my father . . . you were my hero. Wasn't it obvious to you how much I admired you?"
"I thought . . ." Reeve shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "I thought it was just a crush. I was certain that it would pass and you would grow out of it eventually."
Charlie chuckles softly, knowing that only he could make her laugh at a time like this. It seems incredible when she thinks about it, incredible that she had lived for years for the tender moments shared between them, limited in number and fleeting, but always moments that made her heart swell with love.
She moves quickly, placing a knee on either side of him, touching the sides of his face. "You're burning up. Do you want to try some of the medicine in the cabinet?"
"No," he rasps, placing his hands on her hips, closing his eyes, and leaning the back of his head against the wall. "Just don't move. I can't think straight if you move."
Deciding to oblige him, she lowers her hands from his face to his shoulders. He might be sleeping, but his thumbs rub circles on the exposed skin of her hips. It's difficult to see his face clearly in the low candlelight, but she thinks she can see the light freckles on the bridge of his nose, the shadows making his eyelashes look longer.
Reeve presses his thumbs a little harder into her hips. His touch is searing and she fights the urge to move. "I can let Cait Sith take over, if you'd like."
It's certainly tempting, the possibility of having these last moments alone together. She blushes furiously, turning her face away.
He smiles, humming. Sitting up straighter and leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. "I can always check back in with him, if you're worried."
She closes her eyes when his lips touch her cheekbone, placing tender kisses down her face and jaw, her pointed chin and the side of her neck. "You shouldn't," she breathes, hearing the breath leave him when she accidentally moves her hips against him.
"I can't give you both my full attention," he murmurs, burying his hot face into her neck, arms snaking around her waist in full.
Charlie doesn't want to confess that she wants all of his attention on her. It's shameful and a betrayal towards their friends in their attempt to save the world—to save her.
He lifts his head again and she looks right at him. There's a knowing little smile on his face.
"You should give your attention to Cloud and the others," she finally says, hoping she doesn't sound too upset about it. "We'll have plenty of time for each other after all of this, right?"
Reeve hesitates, nodding at her. Charlie pushes his hair back again to place kisses on his cheeks and forehead, hoping to kiss the fever and fear and uncertainty away, but when she kisses him on the mouth, it feels too much like saying good-bye. She kisses him one more time, but it doesn't feel any different. It just feels sad, when she wants it to feel hopeful, promising . . . anything but another good-bye.
But he doesn't protest, going so far as to crane his neck out when she pauses, lips slightly parted.
How lucky she is to have the chance to say good-bye to him. Perhaps they'll meet again in the Lifestream. What was it that Bugenhagen had said?
The moment she thinks it, the candles all seem to flicker at once, like a gust of wind has blown in, but Charlie knows that's impossible. It even catches Reeve's attention, and they're quiet for a moment, waiting for it to happen again.
She can't help but notice how hard he's breathing, long and laborious breaths. "I love you," she says, fingers splayed again on either side of his face, kissing him languidly until they both know it's gone on long enough.
Charlie settles in his lap more comfortably, both of her legs off to one side and resting her cheek against his chest with a blanket wrapped around them, forehead pressed against the underside of his jaw. Just like the night Father died, she thinks, remembering how comforting it had been then, noting how comforting it is now.
"Okay," he sighs, and Charlie listens to the furious beating of his heart that's at odds with the calm expression on his face. "It won't be long now. There's still hope. Just a little bit longer, all right?"
She closes her eyes, nuzzling her face into his neck this time, grasping a handful of his sweater. "Okay."
"You all right?"
"I'm all right," she says, and it's mostly the truth. "You?"
Reeve turns his head, smiling against her hair and kissing the top of her head. "I'm good."
She's asleep when they reach Sephiroth, and Reeve doesn't dare wake her.
If the thunderous beating of his heart doesn't wake her, nothing will. He's not even certain how she's managed to fall asleep at a time like this, but he can feel her soft and even breathing against his neck.
It's painful to see, to hear, to attempt to issue orders to Cait Sith, and he would not have been able to do this with Charlie shifting and grinding in his lap.
Cait Sith and the others have traveled deep into the planet's core, into a place surrounded by the Lifestream, the planet's life energy embedded into the very rock walls of the crater. It had been slow going with so many of them (two of them non-humans and one with only one hand), and there had been so many pitch-black caves and dead-end tunnels that they had gotten lost more times than anyone probably cares to admit.
And faced with Sephiroth in his human state, sharp and twisted and arrogantly handsome features putting his age around Charlie's, Reeve's mind is flooded with half-remembered memories, but memories that are not quite his own.
Looking up at an endless night sky full of stars, and a young woman lying next to him, her hair golden in the firelight. It feels far away—she feels far away, despite her curled up in his lap, asleep against him.
Draped over her thighs to keep her legs warm while she rests against the stuffed moogle, her fingers moving up and down his chest. The memory makes a chill run down his spine, phantom touches that have goosebumps springing all over his skin, especially because her fingers are very still right now.
Charlie stirs—just barely—bringing Reeve violently back to his senses in the small bunker in the Shinra estate, sweating and aching and exhausted and dizzy. She doesn't fully wake, only shifts in his lap, her eyebrows knitted together like she's suffering from a nightmare. He wants to kiss her again, to comfort her, to tell her everything is going to be all right, but that's a bold lie to tell her now.
Her skin is clammy still, but soft and smooth beneath his hands, and she's still alive.
He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes again.
It is a monstrous and terrifying sight they're faced with for their fight to stop Meteor, a creature far beyond that of Sephiroth himself, far beyond what Charlie's SOLDIER and his friend had become in the end.
It is Jenova's influence and destruction, a festering sickness within the Lifestream itself, where Holy seeks to save them from the impending destruction. Horrifying and powerful and impossibly large, Reeve can't help but have doubts upon seeing the way that their friends tire during battle, bleeding and bruised and, yet, never willing to give up.
It is horrifying, something out of some dark and twisted fairy tale book. It's not Sephiroth, but a monster. While he sits hundreds of miles away from the Northern Crater, his friends have swallowed their fear—many of them merely children.
He and Charlie would never have survived the encounter.
He can't help but admire Yuffie, so fearless and confident in her movements and taunts, bleeding from several cuts up and down her legs, sixteen and courageous and with energy only teenagers could possess, reminding him of Charlie.
Nanaki covers her, staying close enough to pull her out of harm's way every so often, panting heavily.
Cloud, Tifa, and Barret all fight seamlessly together, trusting each other to be in the right place at the right time without even needing to speak. Sometimes Barret barks an order, or alerts someone to danger as he covers them with a barrage of bullets.
Cait Sith clings to the back of Vincent's—of Chaos's—cape, using materia whenever he can, while the demon that carries him also carries Cid from weak-point to weak-point, wherever and whenever there's an opening. Cid hardly seems surprised to be suddenly picked up by the collar of his jacket, dropped unceremoniously onto another platform to continue piercing the armor of the monster that screams and writhes, unsure of who to attack first.
It seems, at first, as if they're likely to win due to the sheer number of them. It's possible that they might be able to overwhelm the creature, regardless of size or skill or strength.
Cait Sith's optimism seems to slowly infect him. They're all fighting for something, for someone, and so long as Charlotte continues to breathe, he has something to fight for, as well, even if Cait Sith is the only way of fighting that he has available to him.
For a moment, Reeve pulls himself back to the bunker, his head swimming. It's still silent within, despite the storm likely still raging outside.
Charlotte is so sweet and innocent in her sleep, lips barely parted, long eyelashes dark against milky skin. Her hair is finally starting to dry, and she's not wearing any of the clothes Tseng had brought to Kalm for her, but clothes that Reeve had bought her very recently.
He lowers his gaze to the hand resting atop her stomach, the hand that shows off the glittering engagement ring.
Reeve presses a light kiss to her forehead, still not wanting to wake her, but as he closes his eyes once more, desperate for an end to this chaos—no matter what that end may be—a soft hand comes to rest lightly on his cheek, while her lips touch his other cheek.
She says nothing, lowering her hand back to her lap and resuming her soft and slow breathing.
Despite being hundreds of miles away from the Northern Crater, his hands are shaking uncontrollably, fingertips digging into Charlie's skin.
In the end, Holy is not enough.
As Meteor breaks through the planet's last defense, all hope seems to be lost.
"Charlotte!"
Charlie's eyes snap open at the sound of him hissing in her ear. She wonders how she could have been sleeping, especially while the bunker shakes so violently.
"Is it Meteor?" she asks, though she doesn't know what else could be shaking the entire plate like this. "What happened? Is everyone all right?"
"Everyone is fine," Reeve says, and when she catches sight of him, fear settles in her heart. He's very pale and sweaty, and his breath is coming in very quick and shallow gasps. "Charlotte—"
Hearing him call her by her full name is very unsettling to her in the moment. It's too serious, and her heart leaps into her throat. It's even more unsettling when he puts his hands on either side of her face, and there is no way for him to hide the truth from her. She can see it written all over his face, and with the bunker shaking and the candles flickering out one-by-one, Charlie begins to cry.
"Don't cry," he croaks, looking on the verge of tears himself. She tries to hide her face, but it's impossible with his hands cradling it, keeping her from moving. "Charlotte, don't cry."
There's a sudden bang! that sounds dangerously close. Charlie gasps and Reeve pulls her to his heaving chest. Several more loud noises follow, and the plate creaks and groans all around them.
"I love you," he murmurs against her hair, kissing her head. "Look at me."
Charlie lifts her head, allowing him to wipe her tears. "I love you so much," she confesses, covering his hands with her own.
The bunker begins to shake harder, and dust falls from the ceiling and covers their hair, but he only smiles at her like they aren't about to die a horrible death. She looks at him for a long time, wondering how his smile seems so natural and genuine.
It's only a few moments later that she realizes how much calmer she is, too, and she thinks that it might be okay, that there isn't anywhere else in the world she would rather be than here, with him.
She doesn't regret for a moment coming back to Midgar, doesn't regret leaving Cloud and Cid and the others, despite how much it had hurt to walk away.
She kisses him on the mouth, slow and careful and loving, taking her time with it, not wanting anything to seem rushed or disingenuous.
It's a good ending for us, she thinks, allowing Reeve to lay her back on the blanket, we did what we could, and we'll be together.
"You're shaking," he breathes, pressing kisses to the side of her scarred neck.
Am I?
"Sorry," she whispers back.
"It's all right," he insists gently, kissing her chin. "It's all right, Charlotte." He shushes her softly, and it's only then that she realizes she's crying again. "Just close your eyes, all right?"
The bunker continues to shake with every tremor, and all but four candles have gone out.
"Close your eyes," Reeve says again, smiling down at her again, propped above her on his forearm, his right hand snaking down between them to deftly unbutton her pants. "It's all right. We're going to be fine."
He doesn't believe that, and she knows it. But the idea that he's putting on this brave little show for her certainly puts her at ease, so grateful that she could die now and be happy.
"My hero," she sighs, reaching for his belt.
He swats her hands away playfully. Just like the first time, she remembers.
"I love you," he tells her, just as her eyes fall closed, long fingers slipping down the front of her pants. He is so unlike Rufus in his touches, never greedy and only wanting to make her feel loved instead of it being all about seeing her at his mercy.
With his lips brushing against her ear, he urges her to keep her eyes closed and talks her through it, all while Midgar burns around them.