"Ready . . . push!"
Charlie grunts, putting all her weight into it, standing precariously on the ladder with Reeve. The trapdoor doesn't want to open, but it's their only way of escape from the bunker.
"One more time," Reeve pants, though this is the fourth time he's said that. His arm is wrapped awkwardly around her, presumably to keep her from falling off the ladder. "Ready?"
She closes her eyes and braces herself against the door, pushing as hard as she can. She survived Meteor, and she has not done so to die helpless in a bunker now.
This time, the door moves. With their combined strength, they're able to open the door enough for Charlie to climb up and slip through. It slams shut again before they can open it wide enough for Reeve, but upon exiting the bunker and being nearly blinded by the bright red of the sky, it's clear that there's an easy fix.
Much of her father's home has collapsed in on itself. The roof has caved in and furniture has been broken and swept away. Only half the walls remain, the foundation still completely intact, but glass from blown windows litters the floor, along with torn and loose pages from books. There's an acrid smell of smoke that lingers heavily in the air, and the red light makes everything look apocalyptic.
Charlie immediately begins clearing the debris and rubble from the top of the trapdoor, opening it with ease to allow Reeve his escape. He's forced to hold a hand up to his eyes, as well, giving them time to adjust to the light.
In the light, however, he looks very unwell. While her father's estate isn't terribly far from the Shinra Building, it's going to be a longer journey than she prefers on foot, and even if they did find a car to take them there, the roads probably aren't cleared.
"Do you want to wait for me here?" she asks him, reaching out to take hold of his arm. "I can go to HQ and come back with a helicopter."
"I'll be fine. I can make it."
She has no choice but to take him at his word, because she knows arguing is useless. Taking him by the hand, Charlie leads him out of her father's home to observe her surroundings.
Reeve had told her the Lifestream had saved them, but looking around at all the destruction, Charlie doesn't think 'saved' is the proper word.
Midgar is silent, a city reduced nearly to ruins, and they take it in for a long time, unable to speak and only able to look, to see what Meteor has done to their city, their home.
While visibility is reduced due to the glowing smoke, she can see further than she should. Midgar's tall buildings have been reduced to smoldering rubble, and even the shadow of the Shinra Building seems very small, the topmost of it completely gone. Roofs have collapsed and glass lines the broken and tilting streets and cars are flipped and smashed by heavy debris.
She feels tears prickling painfully at the corners of her eyes. This was Shinra's fault, she thinks, and no one else's.
She wonders if this was how residents of Sector Seven felt when Shinra dropped the plate on the slums. She wonders if this was how Cloud and Tifa felt while their hometown burned at the hands of Shinra's most revered SOLDIER First Class. She wonders if this was how Barret felt when his dying wife was left to burn in a city destroyed by Shinra.
Her chest feels tight and it's difficult to draw breath. They could very well be the last people in Midgar, for all she knows. It certainly feels that way. Her hands curl into fists at her sides and she grits her teeth, but the tears come regardless, unbidden and without her consent, hot against her cheeks.
Reeve lowers himself slowly to the ground on her left, glass crunching beneath his knees. He exhales shakily and Charlie frowns, kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around him as his upper body falls into her.
She can't imagine how he must feel. Midgar was her city, in a way, a city full of people she hoped to one day lead (and how cruel that the world must come to this shocking state the moment she even pretends to be the president), but Midgar was his, as well.
Midgar was years of blood, sweat, and tears for him, of sleepless nights and overwork. He had poured his entire soul into the city, had taken pleasure in looking out over the city that would not have been half as brilliant without him. Though Midgar was never truly finished, always under construction at any given point of time, he had been wholeheartedly devoted to each one of them, never committing to anything less than perfection for the city he loved so much.
Charlie presses a kiss to his hair, her knees screaming in protest against the hard ground.
She holds him for a moment, trying to regain control of her breathing. He had been so brave for her in the bunker, distracting her from what he thought were going to be their last moments, making her feel loved in those last moments.
All is not lost yet, she thinks, not while he lives.
Swallowing her fear and horror and sorrow, Charlie rearranges her features to display some form of courage and bravery, of strength. She has to be the brave one, and she's let him down so many times before that she can't let him down now. She lets the last tears fall before squeezing her eyes shut.
Crying is reserved for behind closed doors, away from people who might see it as weakness.
"Reeve," she whispers, "let me see your phone. I'll call for someone."
But when she fishes it out of his bag, it's only to find that it's dead. Cursing silently, Charlie puts it away and sighs. Though he's standing now, staring off in the distance towards the remains of the Shinra Building (which seems impossibly far now), he doesn't seem prepared to move.
She places herself in front of him, putting her hands on his upper arms and squeezing gently. "I am so sorry, my love," she croaks, the smoke making her throat itch. "But we need to get to Headquarters first so we can figure out what we can do next." The shadows under his eyes make her nervous, so she smiles weakly and adds, "And to maybe get you some medicine."
He doesn't answer, looking helpless and defeated and exhausted.
"We've made it this far," she reminds him. "Just a little bit further now."
A muscle jumps in his cheek and he swallows hard. Giving her a resigned little nod, he allows Charlie to take him by the hand again, leading him through the ruins of their city.
He slows her down, but she's polite enough not to say so.
She is patient and gentle with him, and she offers him genuine encouragement when he feels dizzy, holding his hand to help him navigate the broken and debris-strewn streets through hardly breathable air, never complaining. She tells him several times not to look at something, which never seems to stop him, but whenever he follows her line of sight, it's always to find another dead body, a resident of his city that he hadn't been able to help.
Even with her injured hand, she continues to move rubble out of the way, and once, they walk past another body, only to hear a faint cough and a quiet plea for help.
Charlie jumps into action upon hearing signs of life, catching sight of a hand and forearm covered in white dust sticking out from a pile of what once was a house. Moving aside several heavy stones, the two of them are able to create a big enough opening for him to reach inside, discouraged at the lack of reaction from whoever is waiting to be saved.
Reeve is able to pull out a woman around his own age, sticky red blood all over her face and in her light brown hair. Complete dead weight against him, he sets her carefully on the ground and props her up in his arms. She looks up at him, but her eyes are glazed over, and she doesn't respond when he taps her gently on the cheek.
Heaving a great sigh, he looks up helplessly at Charlie, but there's only an apologetic look on her face. She kneels down beside him, closes the woman's eyes, and they're forced to leave her behind as they continue their journey towards the Shinra Building.
He can't help but feel selfish afterwards, looking at the back of Charlotte as she pulls him along, glancing over her shoulder every so often as if to make sure he hasn't left, despite his hand still firmly in her own.
So long as he focuses on how glad he is that she's alive, he can push everything else to the back of his mind for now. So long as he focuses on the way her face softens at the sight of him, on the way her hair falls messy and unbrushed down her back, on the way she walks tall with her shoulders back like her entire spirit hasn't been broken . . .
So long as he focuses on all of that, he can continue putting one foot in front of the other.
To his surprise, there are already people gathered at the Shinra Building. Many of them are hurt and attempting to get through the barricaded front doors, demanding help from Shinra, demanding food, water, information, and shelter, demanding transportation to take them out of Midgar. There aren't many people, perhaps about fifty, but somebody grabs the scruff of his collar and Charlie's wrist, pulling them away before she can attract their attention.
"Thank the Gods you two are all right," comes Veld's gruff voice from behind him, shoving them gently towards Tseng, Reno, Rude, Elena, and a few other Turks, who are hiding in the shadows away from the angry mob at the front doors. "We were about to send out a helicopter looking for you."
"We're here now," Charlie explains for them. "What can we do?"
"We should be asking you that," Tseng remarks dryly, folding his arms over his chest. "There are doctors inside setting up what they can, where they can. The doors will be open soon to those that need immediate medical attention. Reno, Rude, Elena, and I are going back to Kalm to check-in with your brother." He meets Reeve's eyes for a split second before adding, "And to check on the rest of the town."
Charlie turns to look up at Reeve. He knows she's expecting him to announce his departure, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "All right," he says, hoping that will appease her for the time being. Besides, if he's able to help here, then he doesn't mind staying for a little while longer.
"Stay, as I know you will," Tseng continues, gesturing behind him towards the other Turks, "but Veld, Freyra, Juget, and Crisis will be staying behind to keep an eye on you, just in case there's any . . . unrest in the next few days."
Charlie nods agreeably.
As the Turks split off and Charlie leads them all through a back door reserved for executives, Reeve finds himself in a makeshift hospital that's been set-up in the very lobby of the Shinra Building, despite the precarious way the remains of it could very well collapse at any moment. However, there isn't enough room in the streets just outside the building, and it's safer with walls around them and a good view of the only door that's open to the public.
As Veld begins issuing orders to the others (who raise no cry of protest, obeying him as if he were still their superior), Charlie comments again on his own complexion, looking very worried now. With his mind focusing on one thing in particular, Reeve had forgotten about the aches and chills that wrack his body.
"You should take some medicine and get some rest," she urges him with a soft little smile, reserved just for him amidst the chaos. "You're no use to anyone out there if you're dead on your feet. And I don't want anything happening to you."
"Nothing's going to happen to me. It's only a fever." He can understand her concern, but he's just survived Meteor, and he isn't about to fall victim to some easily curable illness. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll take some medicine and get some rest."
When Charlie approaches one of the doctors, asking very sweetly for help, she's immediately swarmed by concerned men and women who insist on poking and prodding her despite her protests. In the end, she agrees to have a doctor look at her, so long as a doctor looks at Reeve, as well.
He's ushered to a cot across from Charlie's own, too exhausted to complain about the very particular attention he's receiving (though he knows that it's likely all over exaggerated in the hopes of pleasing Charlie). With the cot so low to the ground, his knees are pulled uncomfortably to his chest, and the doctor shines a light in both of his eyes and moves an index finger side-to-side in front of his face and presses a thermometer against his forehead and each other his temples.
They do the same to Charlie, who seems to take it all in much better stride, joking quietly with the doctor, an older woman who seems much gentler than the broad-shouldered brute that's manhandling him now. Every so often though, the doctors move just right to give him the perfect view of her, and when she catches sight of him, she never fails to smile shyly.
Charlie comes away with a relatively perfect bill of health, while Reeve is forced to take some medicine and is urged to get some rest. The doctor offers him the cot, but Charlie doesn't like that one bit and insists on something more private.
"Doesn't matter where he sleeps, Madam President," the doctor says with a slight shrug, gesturing with his chin towards a stack of blankets for her to take, "so long as he sleeps."
She tells Reeve she has a place in mind, and he answers with a soft grunt, too tired to say anything else. Where he sleeps is the furthest thing from his mind right now.
The fact that people are still addressing her as 'Madam President' means that Shinra is still very much alive and kicking. Reeve had partially hoped that in Meteor's wake, the Shinra company might collapse completely, especially with the faux-death of Rufus Shinra himself. He wants to scream, to give way to his rage and anger, knowing that it will be difficult for Charlotte to walk away now.
The room that he's led to is nothing more than a break room on the second floor, but it does offer much more privacy. The wide window in here has blown out, as well, but the sofa remains untouched and looks far more comfortable than any of the cots downstairs.
Charlie slides his bag off his shoulder for him, setting it gently on the ground by the sofa with the blankets. "Is this okay?" she asks nervously, wringing her hands in front of her.
Reeve nods, though it's a little chilly with the broken window. "It's perfect."
This makes her break into a genuine smile, the tension immediately leaving her shoulders. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
He sighs shortly, forcing himself to smile at her. "The president of Shinra . . . waiting on me?"
His weak little joke falls flat, only serving to make her look uncomfortable. Charlie wraps her arms around herself and averts her eyes for a moment, blushing. "Well . . ." she manages to say, "I'm not really the president."
"I—" Feeling warm around the collar, he clears his throat. "Sorry."
In the hopes of making her happy again, Reeve lets her fuss for a few moments, pushing him onto the sofa (with shaking hands, he notices) and urging him to lie down in a soft and worried voice. The moment she throws a blanket over him, the exhaustion truly hits him all at once with the force with a freight train.
With his eyes half-open, the bottoms of his legs hanging off the arm of the sofa, and chills rippling through his body, Charlie kneels down beside him and skates her fingertips over his cheek.
"I'm going to see how I can help," she whispers, looking in need of rest, as well. Pulling her hand away almost draws an unconscious whine from him. "I'll come check on you, all right?"
Reeve gives a slight nod again, and when she shifts, tucking some of her hair behind her ears, he can tell that something is horribly wrong. Her eyes are shining with tears, and the blank expression she had been wearing is beginning to crumble.
"What's wrong?" he asks, reaching for her hand.
She smiles at him, so sweetly, and shakes her head. "Just . . ." She blushes again, but never looks away. "Don't leave without saying good-bye, okay?"
He doesn't have the energy or strength to argue with her, but it's almost rich, he thinks, coming from her, who had left him in the middle of the night and left her engagement ring upon the nightstand without explanation. But he says, "Okay," all the same, and it makes her smile and earns him a kiss on the cheek.
He wants to tell her to stay, but he can't quite get the words out. And besides . . .
Who am I now to keep her from her duties?
It turns out that materia takes a lot of energy.
While Charlie is able to mend smaller injuries, having dabbled in field medicine quite a bit while on the road with Avalanche, the doctors are much more efficient than she is, and much neater with their stitching.
Though there is still much that she is able to do well. With Veld standing over her shoulder at all times, looking imposing enough to keep away anyone who might try to hurt her, Charlie cleans wounds and distributes medicine as per orders from other doctors, sometimes walks around and speaks with patients to do what she can to boost morale, and uses healing materia where she can.
After using it once before on Cid, it's easier to use now that she knows she's capable of it. Shinra's materia is far stronger than any that Avalanche had been carrying, but Charlie is tasked with using it on smaller injuries—fractured bones or bad bruising or open wounds that would typically need operated on, shrinking them until someone is able to suture the skin back together.
But it's exhausting, and everytime she feels the surge of warmth flowing through her arm and making the tips of her fingers tingle, Charlie feels her very essence and spirit being drained rather quickly, making her palms clammy and her forehead damp with sweat. She chooses not to complain, knowing that she could have easily been one of these people had her father not had a bunker built with the home out of paranoia.
Sometimes she's able to sneak away after Veld causes some mild distraction to take everyone's eyes off her. And the moment she's free of the attention, she races back up to the second floor and carefully opens the door to the break room where Reeve is sleeping soundly. She can't help but watch him for a few moments every time, especially after expecting to open the door each time to find him gone.
The lobby of the Shinra Building is absolute chaos and panic—it echoes with the horrified sobbing of people who have lost everything and the desperate screams of young children who are dirtied and bloodied and separated from their parents. Some of those horrified people choose to spew their hatred towards Charlie, who insists that Veld do nothing to stop them.
"They're angry," she tells him quietly, laying a hand on his forearm when one woman spits in her direction. "It's all right."
Though the woman who had spit at her is very grateful when Charlie is able to reunite her with a four-year-old son who had been near unrecognizable underneath the filth that caked his face and hair.
She's able to find bottled water by scouring break rooms and offices and waiting areas, finds whatever food she can and brings it all back to the people waiting for medical attention. There isn't enough water or food to go around, however, and the Turks break up their first small uprising outside the doors when it becomes clear that not everyone will be receiving the same care as the first group of patients.
The display ends with three people dead—one man around Charlie's age who had pulled a gun and shot towards the sky, an elderly man who had been struck by a stray bullet aimed at the Turks, and a young woman who had collapsed during the ordeal and never got back up.
It's not the way Charlie would like Shinra to portray itself, but it had to be done, and any uprising should be nipped in the bud immediately before things get any worse.
Don't they see what she's trying to do for them? Don't they see how hard she's trying to help them?
Time doesn't even seem real to her as she works. She doesn't pay attention to the sky outside—not that there's anything to see with the red haze that Meteor had left behind for them—and the crowd of refugees only begins to swell with people that have crawled and forced their way onward in the hopes of help.
It's impossible to help them all. There are only a handful of doctors and field medics from the Shinra military, and the Turks do more harm than help with their menacing presence, frightening most people who catch sight of them. With all of the cots filled, patients are given floor space to sleep, a blanket laid on the ground as their only protection from the cold floor. Doctors aren't reaching patients fast enough, and many of the bodies are so still that Charlie thinks they're likely dead.
As Charlie makes to go check on Reeve again, for the fifth time, she's distracted by a man stumbling towards her, his head hung low and a hand over his forehead. She approaches him warily, holding out her hands.
"Sir, are you all right?"
He moans, falling forward into her before Veld can reach him. Dead weight against her, Charlie stumbles backwards, but is able to catch herself at the last second and gently lower the man to the ground. The man's free hand clutches at her shoulder and when she pries his fingers off her, she notices that his palm has left behind something black on her clothes.
"Sir . . . ?"
Half-cradling him on the floor of the lobby, Charlie pulls his hand away from his face, gasping at the sight of his face and nearly dropping him as Veld pulls her away by the upper arm.
There's what looks like a black bruise on the man's forehead, and thick black liquid seeps from it. It trickles from the corner of his mouth and from his nose and ears and runs down his cheeks like tears. Without anyone to support him, he falls forward onto the ground and doesn't move again.
"What was that?" she breathes, wiping off the residue on her hands and shuddering.
But when she and Veld inspect several other patients, they find that many have the same black bruising all over them. No one can explain it, least of all the doctors.
"It might be contagious," Veld thinks out loud, looking very curiously at Charlie. She knows what he's thinking. "Go on and get some rest, little princess. You've been at this for almost ten hours now. I'll give Tseng a call about the disease and let him know to be careful."
Has it been ten hours already?
"Let's get you out of here," he continues, glancing around the lobby and nodding at the remaining Turks. "There's an empty home right around here that we've decided to use."
"But what about Reeve?" she asks quickly.
Veld smiles down at her. "He'll be fine. Let him rest, Charlotte."
The small and empty home is half-collapsed. There's a single bedroom left on the first floor, along with a spacious living room and a kitchen, but there's a hole in the roof right above the bed and the stairs to the second floor are blocked by the fallen roof. It's still habitable, however, despite the debris that's clearly already been cleared, stacked against the walls.
She looks around the bedroom, sighing. It feels very confining and lonely and far away from Reeve. The idea that she's left him behind in the Shinra Building doesn't sit well with her, but Veld had told Crisis to watch the door while they were gone, and Charlie trusts Crisis to do his job.
"Have you heard from Tseng at all?" Charlie asks Veld, casting around for another subject, anything to distract her from getting lost in her own thoughts.
"Your brother is fine. Kalm suffered from a few strong tremors, but the town is still there, overrun with refugees." Veld brushes the dust off the blankets, pulling them back as if trying to convince Charlie to hop in. "But for now, the most important thing is that you get some rest."
"How can I sleep, Veld?" she breathes, tears stinging her eyes. Now that she's away from Reeve, away from those hurting people in the Shinra Building, she feels it's finally safe enough to cry. "Midgar is in ruins. My city, my home, everything has been destroyed, and Reeve is going to leave me whenever he wakes up, to move onto bigger and better things than Shinra."
He doesn't answer, but doesn't look away.
Charlie finds that his silence is far worse than anything. It makes the tears burn again, desperate and furious and at a complete loss. "I don't know what to do," she rasps, sighing heavily. "Please, tell me what to do. I'm not cut out to be president. You know that. I need you to tell me."
Veld frowns deep. "You already know what I think and what I want to say," he says quietly, in that rough voice of his. The cold fingers of his prosthetic hand push some of her hair behind her shoulder clumsily. "Is that what you want to hear? You wanna hear me say it out loud? Or do you just want me to tell you what you want to hear?"
She frowns back at him, eyebrows knitted together, but the pout on her face only makes his expression soften. "I can't go, Veld. I can't leave Midgar. I can't go with him. Not while my city burns. But . . ."
Charlie lowers her eyes, flushing brilliantly.
"I want you to be proud of me," she confesses. "I don't want to let you down."
"Of course I'm proud of you." Both of Veld's hands come down upon her shoulders. If she closes her eyes, they might be in the villa in Costa del Sol, and she might only be sixteen-years-old, crying over something trivial and seeking comfort. "Come here."
She falls into him, burying her face into his broad and muscular shoulder. He smells of sweat and soot and a little bit sterile like a hospital, but it's comforting, the knowledge that this isn't a dream. All his hold makes her want to do is cry, but she isn't embarrassed about it in front of Veld. He's seen her cry more than anyone, she thinks, and is no stranger to the terrible fits of sadness that so often gripped her throughout her lonely adolescence.
It feels good to have a father's arms around her, comforting her. It's not like her own father ever made time to hold his children when they cried. It feels different than having Reeve's arms around her, comforting though they are, but he isn't Veld.
Here she is safe, safe in a city that threatens each second to collapse and crumble, safe to cry behind closed doors. Here she feels a child again, a little princess, just like she had envisioned herself all those years ago. Here, she does not face any judgement, nor are her subtle mannerisms under such public scrutiny. There is no one here that she must be brave for, and Veld does not expect her to hold herself together after everything, she knows.
"Hey, hey," he croaks, kissing the side of her head and attempting to shush her as she sobs, her cries likely echoing throughout the empty city of Midgar. "It's all right, princess. It's all right."
He wipes her tears with his warm and rough hand.
"No matter what you choose to do or where you go to say," he continues, "you know that I'll always support you. You make me proud everyday."
She still doesn't know what time it is by the time she kicks her boots off and slips underneath the blankets in dirty and sweat-stained clothing. A hot shower would be nice, but she knows it's likely out of the question right now with no running water in the entire city.
All she knows is that, in a few hours, she'll be back in the Shinra Building, working until she either drops dead or is forced into a bed.
It's the least she can do.
He wakes dizzy and disoriented and hungry, staring up at a dark and unfamiliar ceiling.
It takes him a moment to remember where he is and how he had gotten here, but when he does remember, he sits up immediately, the word Charlotte! being pulled from him in a hoarse voice.
There's no answer save for the whispering of the wind through the broken windows and the low buzz of activity coming from the other side of the door.
Reeve drags a hand down his face, his skin still clammy and damp from sweating off the fever, his hair sticking to the back of his neck. By his watch, he's been asleep for a few minutes shy of thirteen hours, and while the sleep has helped some, he wishes Charlie would have woken him a long time ago.
He isn't prepared for the sight that greets him in the lobby of the Shinra Building.
Overlooking it from the second floor, Reeve observes the lobby that's overflowing with patients and separated families searching for their children. He isn't certain all of the people in the lobby are alive, and many of them are inflicted with some kind of illness that's left them oozing black pus—or what seems like black pus.
The stench is overwhelming, like charred flesh and infection. It smells like it did the night of the first reactor bombing, when the streets were full of people with their skin aflame.
There's no sign of Charlie's light blonde hair anyway, and the doctors are working tirelessly, so he doesn't bother asking after her. He waits until he's able to corner Freyra, who has a mask over her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed together, as if this is the very last thing in the world she wants to be doing.
"Where's Charlotte?" he asks quickly, beginning to panic, hoping she hasn't done something dangerous like following search and rescue out into the ruins of Midgar.
"She's with the chief," Freyra answers in a muffled voice, pulling her mask down to her chin. "Well, she's with Veld, I mean. I can take you there."
"Where?"
"Just an empty house down the road. Come on, I'll go with you."
Clearly eager to escape the confining lobby of the Shinra Building, Reeve follows her as she sets a grueling pace, nearly leaving him behind. She talks all the while about the information that Tseng has sent them already, and he lets her, wanting to know as much as possible.
Freyra paints a picture of a town choked with injured and ill and hopeless refugees, claiming that Kalm had escaped severe damage, being relatively far-removed from any Lifestream currents, though some buildings had suffered damage from residual tremors that follows Meteor's near-hit.
Upon catching sight of his concerned expression over her shoulder, she adds quickly, "And the family that you've been looking after is fine, by the way. Emma let me know."
A relieved little breath escapes him, then. He nods gratefully and the rest of the walk is silent.
The empty house is just a run-down building in an employee district close to a few warehouses, but it's the only one that still has some parts of it still standing. The siding has been ripped off, but the foundation remains strong, though much of the roof has collapsed.
Veld is inside, trying to get a portable stove to start in the cramped kitchen, cabinet doors hanging awkwardly, half-off their hinges, and canned food and torn bags of rice litter the ground.
"Someone's here to see Miss Shinra," Freyra calls to him, standing aside to give Reeve some room to move into the kitchen.
Glancing over his shoulder, Veld scoffs. "Good. Come here and get this thing working for me. Freyra, be a good girl and leave us alone now."
"Yes, sir," she says lightly, nodding in farewell and heading back out the front door.
All Reeve has to do to get the portable stove started is flip a rather inconspicuous switch on the side of it, and when Veld pushes the bright red button on the front, a few small flames spring to life. He gives Veld a modest little shrug.
"All right, all right. Don't rub it in," Veld snorts, kneeling to grab at some of the cans. His knees crack loudly.
"You're getting old," Reeve smiles.
"Fuck off, Tuesti." But when Veld straightens again, there's a smile on his face, as well. With his free hand, he points obnoxiously to Reeve's temple. "You're getting there, too."
Reeve swats Veld's hand away, frowning. Charlotte had always been fond of teasing him about the gray hair that's started growing in, but it was endearing when she did it. It's not half so cute hearing Veld point it out.
"Piss off," he mutters, earning himself more of Veld's harsh laughter. Reeve lets it die out naturally before broaching a much more serious topic. "I can't stay here, Veld. I have things to take care of in Kalm, and I need to get to Junon."
"Not even going to stay for dinner. Is that the way of it?"
Reeve sighs, eyeing the can of soup warily. "I'll get dinner on the road."
Veld puts the can down aggressively on the counter, making Reeve jump.
"What?" he snaps, suddenly defensive.
Veld shakes his head, scoffing. "Charlotte just worked ten hours helping the wounded and displaced, and only fell asleep an hour ago after she cried herself to exhaustion."
"I believe it."
"Then what's your fucking rush?" Veld asks sharply. "Got a hot date?"
"No, I—"
"Then where the hell is the fire, man?"
"If I stay here, then I'll . . ." He doesn't want to say the words aloud. It still makes him uncomfortable to speak badly about the company, but mostly because Charlie's last name is attached to it. "Charlotte intends to rebuild Shinra, which . . . is her decision, but I have no intention of being a part of that. I've done my time with Shinra, and she knows that."
"One more day isn't gonna kill you, is it?"
Reeve inhales deeply, the back of his neck feeling warm. "All right," he breathes, knowing that Veld will not concede defeat. "All right, I'll—I'll stay for . . ." He casts another glance around him at all the canned food at his feet. ". . . dinner."
"Don't be a jackass," Veld grunts, seemingly satisfied. "Go check on her for me."
Depositing his bag on the sofa, Reeve peeks into the bedroom. It's cold in the back of the house, and though Charlie has two blankets thrown over her, she's curled up with her knees nearly to her chest. Every few seconds he can hear her sniffling, but she's definitely asleep, as she doesn't hear the creaking of the floorboards when he approaches the bed, sitting down in an empty chair that must have been put there by Veld.
She's facing him, her pale cheeks pink and blotchy and her eyes swollen. Her breathing is soft and uneven, and Reeve leans forward to push some stray hair out of her eyes. She doesn't even stir at his touch.
He's suddenly very sympathetic towards her decision to leave so abruptly that night in Costa del Sol.
It would be very easy to slip out the front door and board a helicopter bound for Kalm without her being any the wiser. It would also make him feel incredibly guilty, but Gods would it be easier.
Reeve already knows what she wants. He knows she has no intention of leaving Midgar now, and the moment she wakes and throws her arms around him, all of his willpower will be sapped away and he'll end up staying in Midgar until Charlie is ready to move on to bigger and better things.
Fool that he is, he kicks his shoes off and crawls into bed with her, fitting her back against his chest and slowly bringing both arms around her, feeling very much a boy while he nuzzles against the nape of her neck.
She moans very softly, sniffling again. "Are you leaving?" she whispers.
"No," he answers, pressing his lips just behind her ear. "Not yet. Don't worry."
Charlie doesn't answer, but her hand comes to rest atop his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight.
It's very uncomfortable, but he wouldn't dare move for the world.
Despite the large opening above them in the ceiling, the both of them are nearly soaked in sweat, their skin sticking together. The clammy palm pressed against the nape of his neck and her hot breath against the front of his neck makes him feel slightly claustrophobic. The arm underneath her head is asleep, his bicep screaming in pain, and Charlie had somehow managed to tangle his legs in the blankets during the night while attempting to throw her leg over him.
And yet, he thinks he would be content to lie here all day, never moving.
His resolve crumbles even further when he feels soft lips touch the hollow of his throat, light enough that she may not even have moved at all.
"Are you awake?" she breathes, pressing another feather-light kiss to his Adam's apple that makes him sigh.
Reeve hums in return, almost falling asleep again when her fingertips scratch lazily at the back of his head. He doesn't know if it's possible for him to sleep any more than he already has, but his body still feels exhausted.
She kisses the underside of his jaw. "Your hair is getting long."
"My hair hasn't been a priority lately."
Another kiss. "I don't want you to go."
"We've been apart for a long time before," he reminds her gently, opening his eyes and smoothing her hair back. "They were some of the worst weeks of my life, being away from you."
"That was different," Charlie protests, looking up at him through long lashes. Her bottom lip sticks out slightly, making her suddenly look years younger beneath her tired expression. "You called me every night when you went away back then."
Too much, he thinks. He had called her so often that even her own father had begun to notice something suspicious during those trips.
"Have you found yourself a nice woman, Reeve?" President Shinra had once asked him knowingly, almost paternally, as they sat together at the bar of a hotel halfway across the world from Charlie.
But Reeve had only blushed and stammered, "No, sir," before the president could find out that it was his own young and innocent daughter on the other end of Reeve's constant texts and long phone calls.
Yet President Shinra had laughed, a sound very unfamiliar, not at all taking Reeve at his word. "A shame. I always thought you might be a good match for my daughter."
Indeed, President Shinra had been pleased upon hearing they were seeing each other.
Reeve smiles at the thought, remembering how absolutely terrified he had been when he found out President Shinra had discovered their involvement. "And I'll call you every night now, if you'd like."
She smiles shyly back at him, a small little thing that she tries to hide by nuzzling into her pillow. "You'll be too busy for that, I'm certain."
"Not likely," Reeve replies, exhaling rasping laughter before kissing her cheek. "I could make time for you, Charlotte."
She looks at him for a long time, and it breaks his heart to see such obvious doubt upon her face, even if she doesn't voice it.
"I'm not asking you to come with me," he continues, though he wishes it were that easy, "but just . . . think about it, all right? When you're ready?" She lays a hand upon his cheek, and he catches her wrist, kissing her palm and admiring the ring on her finger. She never slept with her ring on before. "You're going to keep your ring, aren't you?"
Charlie frowns, pulling her hand away from him to look closely at the ring. "Like . . . as a keepsake?"
That makes Reeve laugh again. "No, silly girl," he says, kissing her forehead to ease her embarrassment. "As a sign that you're engaged. To me."
She blushes, lowering her eyes. "Is that what you want?" she asks. "Or is that what you think I want?"
His heart stutters, disappointed, but he tries not to let it show. "Tell you what," he begins again, "why don't you hang onto the ring for me, and when I get settled in Junon, you can come bring it back yourself?"
Lifting her eyes again, looking far more apologetic than she should, she smiles. "Okay."
It's not the answer he wanted to hear, but it's a better answer than he might have hoped for.
Charlie nuzzles her face into his neck again. "Just a few more minutes . . . I don't want you to leave yet . . ."
Her eyes close again, her breathing slowing until he's sure she's fast asleep. Reeve brushes the backs of his fingers against her high cheekbones, against the sharp line of her jaw, pushing a few stray hairs out of her face. Her skin is so soft and warm, still slightly coated with soot and dried blood, but he's become accustomed to this through Cait Sith's eyes over the past few weeks.
With Meteor gone now, he has years left to him, years left to start a new life without Shinra, away from Midgar.
What's a few more minutes in bed with Charlotte? Isn't this what he wished he had more memories of? A few minutes out of years doesn't seem so bad.
A few more minutes won't kill anyone.
"Call Veld when you land. I'm worried about you."
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. It's a short flight to Kalm. I'll be sure to speak with Rufus while I'm there." He dips his head to kiss her, pulling away after a few seconds and clearing his throat, eyes flicking around them at the Turks that are waiting for them to say their tearful good-byes. "I'll see you soon, yes?"
Charlie nods, not entirely certain it's the truth.
The helicopter's engine springs to life loudly, quite possibly the only sound in the quiet city. The propellers begin to pick up speed quickly, blowing her hair around and into her face.
Crisis throws Reeve's things unceremoniously into the helicopter, jumping into the front with Juget. Reeve climbs up through the open hatch, still holding on loosely to Charlie's hand.
He lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing the finger that her ring sits upon before releasing her. "Take care of yourself, Charlie."
Charlie takes a few careful steps back from the helicopter as it begins to rise from the platform, hovering precariously as Reeve braces himself, looking down at her all the while. She can't hear him shouting over the sound of the chopper, but it looks like he's saying I love you! with a bright smile on his face.
She holds up a hand in farewell, blowing him a kiss right before he grins again and closes the hatch door as they begin towards Kalm.
The moment he's unable to see her anymore, Charlie's smile fades. All she wants to do is cry—cry because Reeve wants nothing to do with Midgar or Shinra anymore, even though it was supposed to be the two of them looking after the city together.
She wants to cry because there is no place for her in Junon, despite what Reeve thinks or says. She wants to cry because there is no place for a Shinra anywhere in the world, except perhaps for Midgar, but that won't last very long. People are already whispering of coups and uprisings, offering protection to those that Shinra has turned away due to their lack of current resources.
A hand comes to rest on her shoulder. "It's all right," Veld murmurs, almost sympathetically. "You'll see him again. I'm sure of it. What're you crying for?"
Charlie touches her face, only just realizing that her cheeks are wet with tears. The helicopter is just a small black dot in the red-tinted sky now, nearly disappearing amongst the clouds.
"I just miss him already, that's all," she rasps, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.
"What lovesick pups the two of you are," he teases her, and it's enough to make her smile, enough to keep the tears at bay for a little while.
I don't have time to cry, she thinks, not while there's work to be done.