He only stops by for a little bit.
Crisis and Juget help pack and move Reeve's things from his bedroom in Kalm into the bed of the truck that Reno had driven to meet them. His computer, his clothes, his books—everything he had intentionally and unintentionally brought from Midgar to Kalm is put unceremoniously into ripped boxes and whatever containers they can find.
It isn't much, but it's all he has now that the plate side of Midgar has been leveled.
Comparatively speaking, Kalm is doing relatively well. Though the streets are flooded with refugees, making traveling with a vehicle very difficult, there is far less damage here.
A few structures have suffered collapsed roofs and shattered windows, the stone statues in the city center have cracked and broken in places, the streets seem a little more uneven than he remembers, but the town still stands, and both Elmyra and Marlene are safe and are currently being kept company by Barret, Cloud, Tifa, and Cait Sith.
It had been Tifa to ask the question Reeve dreaded the most, too innocently to cause him any true ire.
Walking down the stairs with a box in his arms, he had heard her soft voice ask, "Where's Charlie?"
Tifa's inquiry had been of interest to the others, especially Marlene, who had asked if Charlie was going to come visit eventually. But Reeve hadn't been certain of that, unable to give the girl a proper answer.
For Tifa, however, he had a better one. "She's staying in Midgar for a little bit, helping sort out the chaos."
Barret had scoffed. "Once a Shinra, always a Shinra. I ain't calling her President though."
"I don't think Charlotte would mind being called something else," Reeve had answered sharply. "But she's been working tirelessly distributing food and water to those that have been displaced, as well as helping those that have been injured, and I think she might mind if you continue to project a negative image of her."
This quiets Barret almost immediately, who pulls Marlene into the backyard with a few toys tucked underneath one of his thick arms.
With the house so busy, and with Elmyra clearly uncomfortable with Turks freely walking in-and-out of the house, Reeve promises to come visit in the next week or so and quickly wraps up his visit to rejoin Reno in the truck, left idling outside the home.
"You finally finished?" Reno groans, sitting up straighter as Reeve slides into the passenger seat with Cait Sith, whom the Turk eyes warily. "Gods, that thing's creepy, man."
Crisis and Juget slam their doors shut, making Reeve's head throb. "Just drive, Reno."
"Gods, look at them," Juget remarks from the backseat, scrunching her nose as she looks out the window. "The town's going to starve if these refugees stay here. Never mind how many more people are going to come here seeking help when Shinra can't help them."
"They've nowhere else to go," Reeve reminds her.
"And whose fault is that?" Crisis mutters bitterly.
"Hey, watch it, all right?" Reno snaps, glancing up into the rearview mirror. "You got Charlie's boy-toy sittin' right in the front seat. Sure you wanna be runnin' your mouth like that?"
"He ain't gonna tell her anything, right?" Crisis laughs a harsh little laugh, clapping a hand down on Reeve's shoulder and jostling him around. "None of us really thought you had it in you, Director."
"Hey!" Reno twists awkwardly in his seat, looking equally as frustrated as Reeve feels. "The fuck did I just say? Shut your mouth, would you?"
"What're you gonna do, Reno?" Juget teases him, yanking on his long red ponytail. "Tell on us to the boss?"
"Yeah, tell him that you were talkin' shit on Charlie and Reeve," Reno threatens them, straightening out the wheel and giving Reeve a sideways look that almost looks apologetic. "And I've seen what the chief does to people who talk shit on Charlie. Wanna find out what he does to people that talk shit about her and her boyfriend?"
Reeve is appreciative that Reno has taken it upon himself to be the bigger person in this situation, but is too tired to argue.
Crisis and Juget are quiet after that, sitting patiently in the back of the truck as they make for the home where Rufus has been conducting private business with Tseng, though Reeve isn't quite certain what they could possibly be planning, especially with Charlotte in Midgar acting as the president in her supposedly-dead-brother's stead.
Reno knocks an odd pattern on the front door of the Shinra home, and it's opened moments later by Elena, who doesn't look surprised to see Reeve standing amidst her other colleagues, clutching an animatronic cat to his chest and looking exasperated by his present company.
Eager to escape the hot-headed Turks, Reeve is able to borrow Elena's phone and slip out the back door and into the half-dead garden after leaving Cait on the sofa, quickly dialing Veld. The least he can do is keep his promise to Charlie to call. It had been a turbulent flight through red clouds, and Reeve wonders if she had anticipated that when Veld suggested they make for Kalm via the sky.
Veld answers quickly and gruffly.
"It's me," Reeve sighs, glad the call made it through. The air feels easier to breathe here, but his lungs and chest are still on fire. "Is Charlie there?"
"She and Freyra are fucking around in HQ doing inventory," Veld explains, and it only serves to make Reeve more upset.
"Well, what are you doing if you're not with Charlie?"
"Making sure no one gets within fifty feet of either of those girls. What're you so concerned about? She's with Freyra. She's fine."
He runs a hand through his hair. Ever since leaving Midgar a short while ago, it seems life is determined to show him just how difficult it can be without Charlie around. "Just . . . tell her I'll try to call again when I get to Junon."
"Tell the kid to get a phone for her, would you?" Veld snorts, and though Tseng would likely not be thrilled to hear himself referred to as 'the kid', it's meant only in jest. "Or else I have a feeling I'm gonna be getting real tired of your voice real quick."
Reeve can't explain why this comment rubs him the wrong way. Perhaps he's just irritated that he wasn't able to catch Charlie before she dove back into her work. "Is she all right?"
"You mean since you last saw her . . . what, an hour and a half ago?" Veld gives a rasping chuckle, continuing in a much gentler and far more reassuring tone. "She's fine, Reeve, and she misses you."
"Okay," Reeve answers, gritting his teeth. "Just let her know I called and that I'm still alive, would you?"
When he makes his way upstairs, Reeve allows himself a moment to appreciate the quiet. At the far end of the hall, in the bedroom furthest from the front of the home, Rufus's door is half-opened and he can hear quiet voices the closer he gets, and though he doesn't understand any of it, he recognizes both of the voices well.
The moment he appears in the doorway, Tseng straightens up from the side of the bed, having been hunched over to whisper in a conspiratorial voice. Clearing his throat, Reeve knocks lightly on the door before pushing it open completely and taking a few steps inside.
"Reeve," Rufus says with a note of genuine surprise, attempting to sit up a little straighter, propped against several pillows in bed. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm on my way to Junon," Reeve answers, glancing quickly at Tseng, who holds his hands behind his back by the window, the blinds closed and the curtains drawn, keeping out any natural light. "I thought I might stop by and see how you're doing."
"Well, I'm alive," Rufus snorts, giving Tseng a curt nod. The Turk immediately leaves them, closing the door to give them some privacy. It's only then that Reeve occupies the empty chair at Rufus's bedside. "I see the same could be said of you. Where is my sister? Is she still too angry with me to visit?"
Hesitating, Reeve leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together. "Charlie has chosen to remain in Midgar for the time being, until all the chaos has . . . settled."
He expects to see a flash of something in Rufus's eyes, something mocking and something victorious, but Reeve sees no such thing. "She's chosen to remain in Midgar," he repeats softly, "doing what I should be doing. They all think she's the president, do they not?"
"Well, the Turks know better."
"And probably respect her far more, as well. Is she all right?"
"She's fine. We were able to find shelter in the bunker at your father's estate. The home is gone, unfortunately."
"The joke's on you, Reeve. I'm glad to hear the home is gone." Rufus smiles, then. It takes Reeve slightly aback, the flash of bright teeth reminding him horribly of Charlie, though his smile fades after a few seconds, his expression suddenly hardening. "As for the rest of my city . . . perhaps Charlie should have been the president after all."
"What happened while you were president was . . . unprecedented, and would still have happened even if Charlotte was president." Reeve purses his lips, wondering why he thinks he owes Rufus any comfort at all. "I think you did the best you could, under the circumstances."
Rufus considers him, looking away after a moment. There's not really anything interesting to look at in the bedroom, however, and it isn't long until eyes the same color as Charlie's settle upon Reeve's face again.
"How did she look?" her brother whispers. "How did she look standing up as the president?"
"Radiant," Reeve answers immediately, the same thought he had while watching her bark orders through the rain just a few days ago. "Like she's been ready for this all of her life."
"What are you really doing here?" Rufus asks quietly, cocking a single thin eyebrow. "I would understand if it was mere obligation that brought you here. Not to me, or Shinra, but to my sister."
No, that's not entirely true. Even if Charlie hadn't expected him to make a quick stop in Kalm, Reeve thinks he would have come to see Rufus anyway. Not only does he have business he wants to discuss with the true president of Shinra, but part of him feels sorry for Rufus, especially wrapped in bandages and bruised and swollen and sickly-looking, his skin waxy and gleaming with sweat.
"You want something," the president continues, and Reeve can't help but blush at how quickly he's been figured out. "That's why you've come, isn't it?"
Reeve doesn't answer right away. He doesn't like the implications of that statement, not where it concerns Charlotte's own family, the woman he intended to marry. He can't imagine how humiliating it would have been had he been forced to have this discussion with Charlie.
"Is it money?" Rufus asks again, slightly more impatiently. "I can't imagine what else you might need from me at a time like this, but go on. Ask. I'm listening."
Reeve's spine stiffens. He's just going to say it. The worst thing Rufus could say is no, and even if he were to be angry and offended, not a single Turk downstairs would lay a hand on him so long as Charlie still loves him. "There is no Shinra anymore, save for you, Charlie, and the Turks. You know that."
"The reports have been inconsistent," Rufus muses, as if he already knows damn well the status of his company, but wants to humor Reeve. "But you were in Midgar, with Charlie. Surely you can tell me the truth of things."
"Much of the military has disbanded. Charlotte gave them leave to be with their families, so there is no strength behind Shinra, save for the Turks, and more than half of them intend to remain in hiding."
"From who, I wonder?"
Reeve chooses not to answer that question. "The confidence in Shinra is very probably at an all-time low. The company will never be what it was, and you know that, as well."
Rufus's nostrils flare, a cold look flashing in his pale eyes, but it's gone as quick as it had come on. "And you think you could do something better?"
"I just want to help," Reeve tells him. "The world is in chaos and will need to be rebuilt in a Mako-less world. I don't see anyone else jumping to take up the mantle."
Rufus sighs, considering Reeve for a long time. It's a critical gaze that sweeps up and down him, looking for any weak points or vulnerabilities. "How much do you need?"
"I'm sorry?"
"How much money," Rufus says again, in a slower voice that's slightly condescending, "do you need?"
"I . . . well, I'm not . . . this is all hypothetical still. I've yet to move into an apartment in Junon, if there's one left."
"You can use mine. The Turks will be able to bring you there, and Charlie knows where it is. Though, be warned . . . she won't sleep in the master bedroom, so choose your bed carefully."
Reeve blinks at him, caught off guard by this odd confession. "Why wouldn't she sleep in the master bedroom?"
"My sweet sister won't sleep in a bed where men she cares about has fucked other women."
This doesn't really seem so out of character for Charlie, not half as surprising to Reeve as it probably should be. Thankfully, this is not an issue that he's ever encountered or been forced to deal with.
"She's always been a brat."
"Hey," Reeve says in a low voice, causing Rufus's eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. "Easy."
"Don't pretend that it isn't true. I suppose it's not entirely her fault, after all. It's only natural, with everyone choosing to indulge her every request from the moment she could talk." Rufus shakes his head, sighing heavily. He lifts an arm lazily, pointing towards the nightstand. "Open the cabinet there."
Frowning, Reeve hesitates, not getting up from his chair right away.
"Reeve, open the cabinet. It's not a trap, if that's what you're thinking. It's just far easier for you to get what I need."
Sighing, he gets to his feet, walking around Rufus's bed to the nightstand on the other side. Reeve kneels before it, opening the cabinet and immediately letting out a soft breath of laughter. From within, he withdraws two glasses and a half-empty bottle of scotch, setting them all atop the table.
"Pour," the boy commands him, though it's a gentler command than Reeve is used to. "Don't worry about what it will do to me. If I've survived this long, I don't think a glass of scotch will kill me now."
Reeve obliges, pouring a smaller amount into one of the glasses.
Rufus scoffs at this. "You're no fun, Reeve." He refuses the glass, raising his eyebrows again. "My sister swears that you're capable of relaxing. Now would be an excellent time to prove that she was being truthful."
"Just the one," Reeve finally agrees, topping both glasses off. "Promise that the Turks won't murder me if they catch me pouring you a drink."
"Oh, I can easily promise you that. The Turks won't lay a finger on you, Reeve. It's a perk of being engaged to my sweet sister." Rufus purses his lips, looking smug. "And I think Tseng is fond of you."
"I think he's just fond of Charlie, honestly."
"That's a fair enough assessment, I think. But that does mean he's fond of you by proxy, doesn't it?"
Reeve smiles, giving Rufus a glass and resuming his seat with his own glass. He recalls the half-remembered conversation he had with Tseng outside Rufus's hospital room in Midgar, the night of Weapon's attack on the city.
"You are engaged still, aren't you?" Rufus asks again, narrowing his eyes. "Last I heard, she was seen wearing a ring. The description of said ring was certainly very familiar, and I don't think my sister knows many men who are capable of buying her something so pretty."
Swirling his glass, Reeve shakes his head, laughing softly to himself. "You do like to hear yourself speak, don't you?"
Thankfully, Rufus doesn't seem angered by this. "Don't avoid my question. It's part of my job as the dutiful brother to vet any potential suitors."
"The dutiful brother," Reeve repeats, hardly able to believe his ears. "You believe that?"
"You've gotten bold, Reeve." Rufus holds his glass up, an amused little smile playing at his lips. "And while I would like to believe that no man in the world could ever deserve my lovely sister . . ." He sighs, smiling the most genuine smile that Reeve thinks he's ever seen on the president's face. "I look forward to the wedding. Congratulations."
Reeve can't help but wonder if there ever will be a wedding, but he forces himself to smile and nod, touching his glass to Rufus's. "Thank you."
It doesn't take much for the president to get drunk. Considering his recent health, the painkillers he's probably taking, and the way he drinks it all in one large sip, Reeve is hardly surprised. While he nurses his own drink, Reeve listens to Rufus talk of a future, listens to his hopes and dreams of rebuilding a company that will be infinitely better than his father's.
And when he finishes, before naming his vice president, Rufus goes quiet, staring off at the window. "Pour me another glass, would you, Reeve?"
The way he asks, so sad and pleading, Reeve can't help but oblige.
"Tell me what it is you came for," Rufus says again after taking the first sip of his refill. "It is money, isn't it? What else could you possibly need me for?"
Reeve sighs. "Perhaps we could talk about it another time—"
"If it's money you need, just give me a number and it's yours." The president shrugs, as if this is nothing to him. Surely he understands how much money would be needed to fund an interim government. "Just promise me that if you need more, you'll come to me, and not Charlie."
"That's very generous—"
"I know, so don't push it." He groans softly, adjusting himself against the pillows propping him up. "Just tell me you won't ask Charlie for anything."
It's not like he intended to—which was why he had come to Rufus in the first place—but Reeve can't say he isn't curious. "No," he agrees, nodding, "I won't. I can promise you that."
Rufus snorts, drinking this drink a bit slower than the first one. "You have no idea how many men had their sights set on Charlie for one thing and one thing only."
Truthfully, Reeve does have a very good idea. He can certainly see how the lovely young daughter of the late President Shinra would appeal to so many greedy and ambitious men.
"Surely she's told you what it was like for us as children." Rufus says this very knowingly, as if assuming Charlie has divulged her life story to Reeve.
"Honestly, your sister doesn't care to talk much about her childhood, but . . . I've . . . picked some things up here and there."
Rufus narrows his eyes, taking another long drink from his glass. "It was difficult for us, of course, and doubly so for Charlie when our mother left."
Reeve sighs, lowering his empty glass onto the nightstand. How ironic it seems to have Rufus Shinra speaking so candidly of his and his sister's childhood, especially about things he's never been able to get out of Charlie herself.
"She was left behind for weeks while Father brought me on business trips halfway across the world," he continues, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Veld didn't like her playing with other children—rightfully so, I think—for the same reason he didn't like the idea of her dating when she was older. Father was so sure that people would try to hurt us, or use us, and Veld was the same. It was their way of caring, I suppose."
It amazes Reeve how much Rufus reminds him of Charlie while drunk, waxing poetic about the tragedy that surrounds being a Shinra.
Rufus lowers his eyes, pursing his lips, nostrils flared. "What happened between Charlie and I, you can't blame her for it. She may have started it, but it wasn't her fault. If anything, it was our father's." There's a long pause, an irritated one. "If not our father's, then it was mine."
"I wouldn't . . . blame her for that," Reeve answers, wanting to make that very clear before Rufus goes running his mouth. "I don't blame either of you for anything that happened as children."
"But you blame me for what happened as adults." Rufus smiles tersely, almost mockingly. If he weren't drunk, he might even be cruel about it. "Does that make you feel better? Blaming me?"
"A little," Reeve confesses.
His honest confession makes Rufus smile again. "So be it. You be good to my sister, Reeve, or the Turks will tear you apart before I even get my chance." And then, before Reeve can answer, Rufus begins to laugh. It's hearty laughter that shakes his shoulders and seems completely genuine. "I bet you're tired of hearing that, aren't you?"
Relieved, Reeve smiles back. "A little," he repeats, "but I understand."
Suddenly in a much better mood, Reeve even refills Rufus's glass for a third time, and the two of them laugh more together than he can ever remember them doing before.
It's dark when she wakes, drenched in cold sweat and her heart racing.
The lingering memory of the long sword through her friend's stomach is just beginning to fade again, and for a horrifying moment, Charlie expects to see Meteor through the window, but the sky is blessedly still black.
She's lost track of all time. She doesn't know what day of the week it is, or how long she's been asleep. All she knows is that she can hear Veld snoring in the other room through the half-opened bedroom door and she can hear Freyra's soft breathing from beside her.
Charlie pushes the blankets off her, dragging a hand down her face, trying not to wake the Turk still in bed. It's nearly pitch black within the house, but she's able to fumble clumsily for a lantern on the nightstand, clicking it on to cast the bedroom in orange light and long shadows. Freyra doesn't ever stir, one arm hanging limply off the side of the bed.
She's hardly surprised that she had dreamt of Aerith. Last night—or rather, the last time she had slept—she had dreamt of Tseng and his bloodied clothes and the massive wound across his abdomen. Before that, it had been her father, the genuine look of surprise on his face as Sephiroth had pushed his sword through that expensive suit.
She slides the nearest jacket on, a bomber jacket twice her size that smells strongly of Veld's cigarette smoke, and slips her feet into her boots, very aware that she must look anything but the heiress of the world's most powerful man—not that he's very powerful anymore, buried beneath a plot of land outside the city that Charlie isn't even certain still stands.
Extremely carefully, as not to wake Freyra, Charlie reaches underneath her pillow and retrieves the gun that Vincent had gifted her, the gun that had once been Veld's. She tucks it into the back of her pants and replaces the lantern with a small flashlight, creeping quietly towards the living room where Veld currently sleeps.
He smells of liquor—of scotch, specifically. The empty bottle sits on the coffee table beside the sofa, where he's sprawled across the cushions, far too big for it. He won't wake for hours, snoring peacefully. Charlie throws a thin blanket over him, takes the keys to the truck off the counter by the front door, and leaves quietly without anyone noticing a thing.
It's cold enough outside for Charlie to see her breath when she breathes, and it feels colder inside the truck cab, the air not quite so rough inside. Meteor has turned Midgar into a post-apocalyptic nightmare, with the air hardly breathable and no running water and half-destroyed streets that make it difficult to navigate each sector.
She fears that Freyra might wake when the engine starts, but no one comes running out after her, so Charlie puts the truck in gear and drives away from the darkened house that was lucky enough to survive the destruction.
She doesn't really know what possesses her to leave without a second thought, knowing that Veld would only worry if he woke to find her not in bed with Freyra, but Charlie can't stand being in that house for another minute.
Reeve is gone, probably settled nicely in an apartment in Junon now, and Cid and Vincent and all of her friends are likely finding their own places within the world. Rufus is in Kalm with the rest of his Turks, likely preparing to rebuild the company, and she . . .
With a full tank of gas, the truck could easily take her all the way to Kalm. But if she goes to Kalm, what is there for her but her brother? The same brother that would have executed her? The same brother that had groomed her for years, taking advantage of her loneliness and vulnerability?
What does that say about her, if she returns to that same brother?
Charlie glances down at the passenger seat, just to make sure the gun is still there.
If anyone were to understand how she's feeling, it's Rufus. The only other Shinra in the world would understand that there is no place for them. Veld doesn't like her going into the Shinra Building anymore because of small uprisings and coups that have found their way to the front doors, and showing her face around the city is a potential death sentence.
She knows that Veld is only being protective, and she's very appreciative of it, but it's frustrating.
He wants her to go to Junon, and he hasn't been very subtle about it, either. He's even offered to fly her there himself, to see her settled into a comfortable place, to make sure that she reconnects with Reeve safely again.
He just wants her to be away from Midgar, safe in a place where someone is around to look after her, but Charlie still refuses to wreak havoc on whatever Reeve plans for the future by doing nothing but simply being herself.
Halfway to her destination, it begins to rain. The soft pattering of it on the windshield makes tears well up in her eyes. "Leave me alone," she whispers to it, to Aerith and Angeal and her mother. "I know what I'm doing."
But the rain doesn't let up, and continues as a steady drizzle until she pulls up to the place where her apartment building used to stand.
The street is hardly recognizable, but Charlie has lived in Midgar for so long that she knows it better than the back of her hand. Her apartment building is gone, no more than a heap of rubble and broken furniture and glass. This place that had once been her home—that had once been she and Reeve's home—now will never be anyone's home ever again.
It takes her a moment to build up the courage to leave the truck, making sure to bring the gun with her.
All of her valuables had been saved the night Tseng returned before Meteorfall, so Charlie isn't concerned with finding anything salvageable, but that doesn't mean she isn't going to try. It's not like there's anything else for her to do, what with the strange disease spreading throughout the city and Veld's overt concern that she may catch it if she comes into contact with too many infected people.
Looking up at the pile of what used to be her belongings (as well as the belongings of everyone else who lived in her building, including the sweet old woman who lived a few floors below her and always took care to mention how much she loved Charlie's clothes), Charlie turns the safety off her gun, just like Vincent had shown her.
She's never fired this particular gun. She's always been surrounded by people more than happy to do the killings for her, which has always been fine by her—so long as there isn't directly blood on her hands, then everything is fine.
But there is blood on her hands, and Meteor would never have happened if it hadn't been for Shinra, and the best thing that she can do for the people now is to . . .
It would make them happy. They would be glad to read the headline. One less Shinra in the world—or rather, to them, no Shinras left in the world, not while Rufus is being hidden away.
Charlie flicks the safety back on after a few minutes, beginning to scale the mountain of rubble. She wants to look over her city one last time, to see the place she called home for so long. It's a difficult and wet climb, and her fingers hurt from clinging to the marble and she comes across some sofa cushions that look suspiciously like her own.
When she reaches the highest point she can, she looks for a long time, but there is hardly anything to see. The lights she adored so much have all gone out, and Midgar is no longer a city full of life and excitement, but a dead city lacking much of its people, abandoned and desolate. Even the reactors are silent, and Charlie finds it unnerving to hear the city so absolutely quiet, the reassuring hum of the machines conspicuously absent, along with the soft green glow that issued from them.
Despite the unease the state of the city gives her, Charlie can't help but find a small amount of comfort in it. Midgar is broken and empty, just like her. Maybe she truly does belong here.
"I'm okay," she says aloud, in response to the questions she can feel her loved ones asking with each drop of rain against exposed skin.
Charlie lifts her eyes to the night sky. She had gone to space in her rocket, the Shinra No. 26, with Captain Cid Highwind. She had seen her dream become reality. She had loved and been loved in return. She had helped her friends on their journey to save the world. She had discovered what happened to her mother, and discovered the place that so eluded her father for years.
Isn't that enough? It's not like anyone will remember those things about her, but those who knew her best will remember. Rufus and Tseng and Reno and Rude and Elena and Veld . . . they will remember.
Cloud and Barret and Cid and Vincent and all of her new friends . . . they will remember.
Reeve will remember.
"Oh," she moans softly, flicking the safety off the gun again with shaking hands, "forgive me."
The rain continues, harder and harder, flattening her hair and making it stick to her cheeks. Stop! it seems to scream, in a barely recognizable voice, several of them whispering in her ear at the same time as she raises the gun.
Charlotte! CHARLOTTE!
"Charlotte!"
At the sound of her name, loud as a thunder clap inside her head. So surprised to hear the gruff voice shouting her name through the rain, Charlie loses her footing, slipping on a wet piece of marble. She's able to catch herself just in time, turning wildly around to see Veld's shadow at the foot of the rubble.
Perhaps he hadn't been as drunk as she thought, or perhaps Freyra woke to an empty bed and panicked.
He holds out his hand for her, as if expecting her to climb down and take it. "Put the gun down," he urges her gently, stepping closer, "and come down from there, Charlotte."
"I can't," she cries, cradling Veld's gun to her chest. "Veld, I can't."
"It's all right, little princess," he continues, bracing himself against the side of her apartment building's remains. "Come down and let's get you out of the rain. Let's go home—"
"I don't have a home," she retorts coldly, but she didn't mean for it to sound so bitter. "I have nothing now."
"But you have a family," Veld reminds her, looking completely stricken in the soft light of the moon. "And we love you very much, Charlotte, and we are all so proud of you. Come down here, little princess, and let me hold you now."
"The world doesn't want me, Veld." Charlie lowers the gun slowly, her hand moving of its own accord. She doesn't have the strength to go through with it. She never did. "There's no place for me here anymore."
"We'll find you a place. We'll find you a new home with your family." He pushes his wet hair out of his eyes, revealing the deep scarring on his face, the deep lines that have come with age. "Charlotte, come here. It's going to be all right. We can build a new home, wherever you want, anywhere in the world."
She turns her face away from him for a moment, unable to look him in the eyes, or what she can see of them in the soft darkness.
"None of this was your fault," he continues to call at her, as if he knows exactly what she's thinking. "Of everyone involved, you were the last person who could be considered guilty. You didn't know, sweetheart. You didn't know, and how could you have known?"
"There's no one else to take the blame—"
"That doesn't mean you have to. Please, come down here."
Slowly, she turns her head back to look at him, wondering if he really means it.
His expression is soft and pleading in that moment, so unlike himself that it softens Charlie. As if the gun has burned her skin, she tosses it towards him, eager to be rid of it. Veld catches it deftly and reaches up for her again with his prosthetic hand, allowing her to take hold of it as she slides down the wet pile of rubble.
The moment her feet touch the ground again, Veld wraps both of his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and speaking into her hair as she sobs.
"It's all right," he assures her, urging her towards another truck that he must have driven here. "Freyra's going to take back the other truck. You're gonna ride with me, okay?"
Freyra must already be in the truck, for Charlie can't see any sign of her, but the engine roars to life and headlights flood the street through the rain.
Charlie nods, accepting his help into the passenger seat of the warm truck, wrapping her arms around herself.
Veld has come prepared, and he drapes a heavy blanket around her shoulders that still smells like him. She's shaking violently, but the warmth helps a little bit, though the trembling of her body has little to do with the cold.
When Veld starts the truck wordlessly, Charlie struggles to get her seatbelt on, not wanting to disappoint him further. However, he doesn't even seem to notice the soft click! her seatbelt makes, instead following Freyra as they attempt to back out of the small opening left behind by the apartment building's remains.
She looks out the window at the remains of Midgar as they drive back towards the looming Shinra Building, still somehow the main attraction of the city, even with more than half of it completely gone.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, feeling so ashamed of herself that she could die.
"Don't be," he replies quickly.
Charlie glances sideways at him, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "Can I call Reeve when we get back?"
"Sure thing, princess."
And that's the first thing she does, before even leaving the truck. Veld takes the gun, but leaves his cellphone behind. Charlie is quick to dial Reeve's number, having been unlucky lately in the sense of being around when he calls, but she's partially glad for it. She wouldn't know what to say.
Her heart races as it rings several times, and after six rings, his voice filters through.
"You've reached Reeve Tuesti. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
Charlie sighs as the beep tells her to begin. "Hey, it's me. Sorry I haven't been around for your calls, but . . . I'm calling now. I hope that's okay, and I hope you're okay. I know you've settled in Junon now, and I hope things are okay there, as well."
She takes another deep breath.
"Things are fine here with me," she lies baldly. "I miss you, and I hope that I'll see you soon. I've been so busy lately, but . . . I'll call you again when I can." Charlie pauses for a long time, chewing on her lower lip. "I love you."
Hanging up the phone, she takes a moment to compose her breathing. It feels like it did the day she thought she was going to die at the Northern Crater, in battle against Sephiroth. Except, it had almost been a high that day. She had been more than willingly to fling herself into death, to see all of the people she loved that she had lost.
That was when she thought Tseng was dead. That was when she thought she would never return to Midgar. That was when she thought she had left her entire life behind her.
You're not just going to give up, are you?
Isn't that what Angeal had asked her at the Northern Crater? Had it ever really been Angeal, or had it all been some sort of dream? Had it only been her subconscious manifesting in the form of the voice of someone she once loved and admired? Of someone she would respect and listen to?
Charlie sighs again, opening the door. No, she tells the voice in her head, I'm going to keep going.
"You sure this was a good idea, kiddo?"
"Why not? Don't you wanna see Charlie again? Dunno 'bout you two, but she didn't even say good-bye to me!"
Since coming here to fend off Hojo from destroying the whole fucking city with the Sister Ray, Midgar has changed, and not only because he's looking at it during the daytime.
Aboard the deck of the Highwind, just after touching down on an abandoned helipad with the Shinra logo on it, Cid looks around at what is left of the city. Meteor has certainly taken its toll here, and Cid has to wonder how many people exactly have been displaced and how many people exactly have lost their lives. Cait Sith had told them that most people had been evacuated to the slums, and lucky for them the plate hadn't fallen, but there surely isn't enough room beneath the plate for everyone to live comfortably.
"Holy shit," he murmurs to himself, the damage beyond what he could have imagined. "It's like a fuckin' ghost town."
Even Yuffie seems a bit quieter than usual. She had called him up from Wutai asking for one last adventure on the Highwind, and Cid had known she meant business because he knows how much she hates flying. It had been a total coincidence that they had found Vincent lurking near Kalm, who had accepted their offer for a ride back to Midgar, just like Yuffie wanted.
"I'm startin' to think this was a bad idea," Cid sighs, and it's not just because his heart is hammering like a fucking jackhammer at the thought of seeing Charlie again.
It's not that he doesn't want to see Charlie again. It would be nice to check-in with her and make sure she's all right, especially seeing now the price that Midgar paid. It's amazing that she survived at all, all things considered.
But they had said their good-byes aboard the airship before Meteor, and Cid thought that was the end of it. He hadn't really anticipated any of them surviving, and he was fully content for the two of them to go their separate ways if they did. After all, they had achieved their dream together, and that had brought him the closure he sought for so long.
"Vince, you know where you're goin'?" Cid asks, offering Yuffie a hand down onto solid ground again, her face still tinged a little green.
"It's not far from here."
Cid and Yuffie follow behind Vincent as he leads them through the ruins of Midgar. The city is unrecognizable to him now, but the Shinra Building still stands as a fine landmark, though not half so spectacular as it had been the first time he had seen it.
The first time had been upon graduating the academy, a young and plain face that got lost within the sea of other men. Until then, he had spent most of his time in the barracks, staring up at the Shinra Building with a feeling of awe, but he hadn't set foot inside until the ball that had been thrown in their honor, and he had dressed up in that fucking monkey suit and drank and drank and danced with a few giggling girls whose faces are long forgotten.
It had been the first time Cid had ever glimpsed Charlie, as well. She hadn't noticed him, of course, but he had taken notice of her. She had been young back then, but dressed like a grown woman, hanging off the arm of her father and making the rounds, likely looking for some military-man-suitor.
Vincent leads them to a ramshackle building close to HQ, a building that doesn't look at all suitable for fucking Princess Charlotte Shinra, but Cid supposes after traveling with their little ragtag gang of heroes for a while, Charlie may not care for the high-standard of luxury she once preferred—not like there's any fancy fucking buildings left to house her.
"Ew, what is this place?" Yuffie asks as they approach, looking around at the garbage strewn all around and stepping carefully over puddles of murky water. "There's no way she's h—"
"Captain Cid?"
Cid whirls around at the sound of a faintly familiar voice, bewildered. To his surprise, he comes face to face with a Turk he remembers, and one that's smiling at him, no less. "Oh, hey," he says, trying to put the name to her face before she calls him out on it. "Freyra, right?"
Freyra's smile widens as she approaches, but it looks tired and slightly forced. "You remembered." Her eyes scan his companions warily, ponytail waving from side-to-side, her eyes lingering on Vincent. "Hey, you were here with Charlie before, the night that Weapon attacked."
Vincent gives a curt little nod.
"What are you guys doing here?" she asks again.
With Yuffie looking up at him expectantly, Cid clears his throat. "Is Charlie around? We were hopin' to catch her today, just to check-in."
"Oh, sure. I think she's sleeping, but I'll go let her know. Come in, all of you, please. She'll be so happy to see her friends, I think." Freyra escorts the three of them into the building, which is falling apart and smells slightly rotten (Yuffie scrunches her nose, but bites her tongue). "Veld, there's people here to see Miss Shinra."
"Who?"
From the room furthest towards the back of the house, another man emerges. When Charlie had described Veld to him, Cid hadn't really known what to picture, but it wasn't this—a washed-up-looking Turk with a healthy dose of gray mingling with auburn hair, half of his face heavily scarred and the entirety of it deeply lined. One of his arms is missing, replaced by a metal prosthetic that seems a little outdated. Charlie hadn't mentioned that.
"Vincent," he says roughly, sounding surprised. Dark, narrowed eyes sweep over Yuffie and linger on Cid. "Oh, you're the pilot, aren't you?"
Cid clears his throat, knowing very well what this man means to Charlie. "Yes, sir."
Veld snorts, folding thick arms across his chest. "Is he always this polite, Vince?"
"No, not really," Vincent answers, looking sideways at Cid.
"Have a seat," Veld urges them, pointing to a fraying sofa that looks like its been slept on a few times, the coffee table covered in empty booze bottles. "Freyra, go wake the princess, would you?"
