It's a beautiful day and, for the first time in months, Rufus feels strong.

With his old wounds finally healing and the pain not half as bad today, he asks Tseng to help him into the wheelchair Charlie had provided for him (something he had scoffed at when she presented it initially) and requests to be wheeled out onto the balcony, so he can admire the surrounding scenery after so long of seeing nothing but the inside of a dark and wet cave.

From the balcony, he can feel the cool spray of water on his face that comes from the rushing waterfalls, and to feel the sun against his milky-white skin feels refreshing and almost healing.

It's been a long time since he's been able to look upon nature like this. Midgar was a city of steel, hovering above the dry and cracked earth with not a wildflower in sight for miles around the plate, and Junon was more of the same, nothing but concrete and steel as far as the eye could see.

Even Costa del Sol had been a different thing, sand and cobblestone, but at least there had been trees there. Neither Midgar nor Junon has—or had—trees, not unless they had been planted there for aesthetic reasons, as a show of wealth. Nothing ever grew naturally in either city.

In addition to this natural beauty, the balcony gives him a clear view of his own sister and Reeve, taking a stroll among the grounds. They don't seem to notice him at all, too busy looking at each other and talking, their pace painfully slow, arm-in-arm with each other.

"Tell me of Junon," Rufus says quietly, his eyes never leaving Charlie and Reeve.

"The WRO has a strong presence, but no one seems unhappy with them," Tseng reports, standing just over Rufus's left shoulder. "Reeve has taken over the Shinra Headquarters for his own personal use, and construction on the damaged buildings is going seemingly well. Reeve claims the diseased are being quarantined in doctor's offices, but I was not able to see for myself." He hesitates for a moment, and Rufus listens to the birdsong. "All in all, life goes on there."

"Life goes on," Rufus repeats softly to himself. Would that he could say the same for Midgar. "Have we been able to confirm the death toll after Meteor?"

"Too many to count, and with the disease, it only continues to go up. It would be impossible to get an accurate number with such few resources, but there have been hundreds of missing reports filed with our doctors and volunteers."

"Volunteers?"

"Displaced citizens looking for some extra money or food, offering to find these missing persons, or what remains of them. It's a rather lucrative business right now."

Rufus doesn't answer, watching carefully as Reeve suddenly stops halfway across the small field they've chosen to walk, stooping to pluck a fully-bloomed wildflower that's the color of blood. When he offers it to Charlie, he can see her blushing all the way from the balcony, cradling it to her chest and smiling.

"What does Charlie plan to do moving forward with the company?" he asks.

Tseng clears his throat. "I don't think she has a plan, truthfully. She's been too focused on the other patients and yourself. I've attempted several times to speak with her regarding both short-term and long-term goals, but she refuses to discuss it with me."

"Do you have goals in mind, Tseng?"

"It is not for me to propose orders," he replies almost mechanically. "It is for me to follow them."

Rufus laughs, a scratchy thing that hurts his throat. "Are you so guarded around my sister?"

"Your sister and I have a different sort of working relationship, sir. Forgive me."

He thinks on this for a moment. Surely Charlie would always allow Tseng to speak his mind in front of her, as Tseng has always been someone she has trusted to give sound advice. "Long-term, I would like to re-establish the company, ensure that our presence continues, but perhaps slightly more in the shadows than before."

"I don't think Charlotte would be opposed to that proposition."

Rufus scratches his chin. His sister has been very kind in helping him shave lately, but she isn't very good at it. It's an uneven shave, but her help does not go unappreciated. "Tseng, I think it's time that I've reclaimed my position within the company. While my sweet sister has done a wonderful job in the meantime, I would prefer that she step down from the presidency."

"You would make her the vice president?"

"There's no need. The Shinra company is no longer the same, and there are no duties for a vice president anymore." He watches Charlie laugh at something Reeve says, but the joke goes unheard up here on the balcony. "Look at her, Tseng. Have you seen her so happy since you brought her here?"

"No," Tseng admits in a low voice. "I haven't seen her smile in months."

It makes Rufus want to cry. It makes him feel lonely, knowing that Charlie is so unhappy here, with him. For as long as he can remember, he had always been under the impression that it would be the two of them forever, the two of them against the world.

"It's too late for me," he rasps, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back tears. If he wants to cry, it will be behind closed doors. He deserves the privilege of crying after everything he's been put through, even if it makes him weak. "But it's not too late for her."

"Sir?"

"Bring me inside, Tseng. Let's talk about the future of my company."


Despite the pull Reeve still feels towards Junon, he finds there is a sense of relief in stepping away from the city for a little while, especially to a place so relatively beautiful where no one is demanding his attention or demanding orders.

Charlie cooks breakfast for the two of them, something she's been working at while stuck at Cliff Resort for months, and is quite proud of the food she's made for the both of them.

After they eat, she encourages Reeve to come meet some of the patients she's been caring for. There are twelve in all that she's been primarily taking care of, and all of them adore her. She shows him how much medicine to give them, allows him to help in the changing of their bandages, and he is amazed at how much she does for them—Charlie feeds them, bathes them, changes their clothes, reads to them, comforts them, helps decorate their walls with personal effects, writes letters addressed to their loved ones, and eases them into sleep.

And all the while, she keeps a smile on her face—a forced smile, to be sure, one she would wear to public events back in Midgar, a practiced smile that only people very intimate with her would be able to see through.

But these patients don't recognize her smile for what it is, and they are more than happy to be on the receiving end of such kindness and gentility and comfort. They are people of all ages, ranging from twenty-three to sixty-seven, weak and crippled and broken because of this mystery disease, relying on the sketchy doctor named Kilmister that is currently researching a cure.

He almost feels guilty for the months he assumed she was holed up with the Turks, plotting Shinra's next move, sinking further and further into the company.

This is a side of Charlotte that Reeve is most unfamiliar with, one who is deeply compassionate and caring and selfless—not that he hadn't known she was those things before, but those things had been buried deep beneath the surface when her father was still alive, as he had pushed her to be ruthless and heartless and uncaring to make the company appear strong and forceful, something she had always struggled with.

When she finishes her rounds with the patients, Reeve encourages her to step outside with him, to walk along the grounds and enjoy some fresh air. She's quick to agree, taking hold of his arm and stepping out into the sunshine.

"You like it here?" he asks her, keeping their strides short and slow, prolonging their time outdoors as much as he can, happy to have her fingers curled around his bicep again. Though she doesn't wear the engagement ring on her hand, he can see it flashing just below the neckline of her shirt, hanging off a silver chain around her neck. The sight of it makes his stomach turn.

"It was lonely at first, when it was just Freyra and me," she confesses with a small shrug. "But now that there's more of us here, it isn't as bad. But tell me about you. What is it like in Junon?"

He talks for a long time, unafraid to share his own secrets with her, knowing that they will be safe with her. He tells her of the World Regenesis Organization, and tells her what they've been doing these past few months. She smiles when he speaks, like she knows he's extremely proud of what he's been doing, and her smile only spurns him onward, making him equal parts nervous and ecstatic.

It's all so natural. They pick up right where they left off, and with so much to say, they hardly lapse into any awkward silences, allowing things left unsaid to hover between them. Conversation comes easy, and neither of them have many secrets to keep anymore.

And once, Reeve bends down to pluck a wildflower growing, a beautiful dark red color that matches the color lipstick that Charlie used to be so fond of. She blushes when he offers it to her, smiling with her perfectly white teeth and holding on a little tighter to his arm.

"Listen, Charlie, I've been meaning to speak to you about something, and it's something I'd prefer to ask you in person," he says after exhausting himself of everything else conversation-wise.

"Oh?" Charlie gives him another knowing smile. "You're not going to try and convince me to leave here, are you?"

He laughs weakly. "You're very perceptive," he chuckles. "Consider it a job opportunity that I think you would excel at."

"I already have a job," she replies, not unkindly.

"This one would pay, of course, and come with housing." With his free hand, Reeve rubs the back of his neck. They slow at the bank of the small pond where the waterfall crashes, nearby what looks like a hand-dug grave. "I've been considering putting a team together to design an airship for the WRO. When a cure or a vaccine is created, we'll need a way to distribute it quickly across the world."

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and he can tell the idea appeals to her. "An airship?"

"It's nothing set in stone yet, of course, but we could use a professional's opinion, and I can think of no one more equipped for the job than you, Charlie."

She considers it, thinking very hard. He had imagined she might shoot down the idea right away, but after seeing her daily routine, he doesn't blame her for being so hesitant. She's clearly happy helping others, but he can tell that it's draining work and is weighing her down.

The smile fades slowly from her face, the enthusiasm leaking out of her. "It's a wonderful offer," she tells him, looking away from his face. "And I'm very honored to have been considered for the position, but . . ."

"But?"

"The patients here rely on me," she says quietly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. The spray from the waterfall makes her hairline and skin slightly damp. "And Rufus is dying."

"You don't have to answer right away," Reeve assures her, feeling far more understanding of the situation she's in than he had anticipated. "As I said, nothing is set in stone, and there is enough time for you to seriously consider it."

It's then that something seems to strike Charlie. Her frown has shifted into something resembling a pout, clearly deep in thought. "Where have you found the money to build an airship?"

"Ex—excuse me?" he stutters, caught off guard by her bluntness. Wholly unprepared for such an accusation, he struggles to regain his composure. "Those are company secrets you're asking about, Madam President."

Her face hardens at the name. He internally curses himself.

"Surely they're not all donations from civilians?"

"I believe you're crossing into professional lines now, Charlotte. Why don't we keep things light?"

She seems to consider it for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. "A project like that would be very expensive. I saw the budget for the Highwind, and a good airship doesn't come cheap."

"Charlotte—"

"Rufus is giving you money, isn't he?"

Caught red-handed, Reeve decides it's better to accept defeat instead of lying. "We made a deal some months ago, he agreed to give me some start-up money, and he's had a small role in funding the WRO—"

"Rufus is funding the WRO?" she hisses, suddenly seething. Her cheeks turn bright red and she takes a step backwards. If there was something in her hand, she might have thrown it already. "With what money?"

"What do you mean what money?" Reeve scoffs, looking her up and down. "The two of you are in possession of billions—"

"Maybe a few months ago!" Charlie protests. She's genuinely angry, her voice quivering slightly. "After Midgar was destroyed, all my accounts became inaccessible. You do realize that's where most of my fortune was stored, don't you?"

"Well, I—"

"I've been paying out of pocket to fund a new goddamn city and a potential cure for this disease," she continues, huffing and puffing. "And I'm starting to run out of money, and Rufus is just giving you money for an airship? Where did he get the money? Only Tseng and I are involved in that process—Rufus shouldn't have access to my money."

"Many people in your new city might consider it reparations," Reeve says, and though he means it, he feels guilty for saying it to her face while she's so clearly upset. "And I'm certain, in a few months, the rest of your fortune will be returned to you one way or another."

"It's not just the loss of my fortune." His words do seem to have reached her, for she softens a little bit and averts her eyes. "It's what's going to happen to me when I run out of money."

"What do you mean? You'll still have this place, and the Turks will ensure you never go hungry." It's a weak promise, and obviously not what she wants to hear.

"Who's going to want me?" Charlie raises her eyebrows upon hearing his silence. "Who's going to want to work with me? Who's going to hire me? Who's going to want to live with me? Who's going to want to help me? Me? Charlotte Shinra?"

"Well, Charlie . . ." He opens his mouth to finish his thought, pursing his lips once and blushing. "I'll want you. I'll want you to help with the WRO. I'll give you any job you want. You can live in the apartment, and I don't mind getting you back on your feet, if need be."

"Is that why you're here?" she asks him. "Tseng said you came to pay your respects to Rufus, but he's been trying to get me to leave for months now."

Reeve doesn't want to lie to her, afraid that it will only make the situation worse. "He's just concerned about you. You've taken on a great burden by caring for all of these people with little help or time to yourself."

The corners of her lips turn upwards slightly. "It's a bad time, Reeve. I can't leave Rufus to die alone. We're family, no matter what has happened in the past, but if you need advice, you're welcome to call me anytime. I'm willing to collaborate on this project."

He exhales through his nose, disappointed, but her response is not unexpected. "There's no one I trust more than you on such a project."

Her cheeks turn pink, and there's suddenly a fire in her eyes that he hasn't seen since she was heading the Space Exploration Department. "I really missed you, Reeve," she tells him, still with that same small smile. "These last few months have been so hard."

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to come sooner," he says with a sinking feeling.

"I understand. I'm sorry that I never returned your ring."

He nods slowly, and the gentle breeze coming off the water only adds to her beauty. There is something so ordinary about her in the moment, something that he might only notice in such a typically extraordinary girl. It's as if, without cameras or people to impress around her, she's comfortable living so vulnerably, something that shows in the way she carries herself and the carefree way she smiles or combs her fingers through her hair like she isn't worried about other people watching on.

"It looks better on you than it ever would on me," he jokes lightly, glad to see her smile again. "You know . . . perhaps I never told you as often as I should have, but . . ."

Charlie's eyes widen, looking up at him with a doe-eyed stare that makes it difficult to concentrate. "What is it?"

"I'm just . . ." He can feel his face burning, his cheeks flaming. "I'm really proud of you."

She stammers wordlessly for a moment, her own cheeks turning bright pink as she averts her eyes, trying to look at anything other than him. "Thank you," she's able to choke out in a small voice, a voice that's endearing and adorable and effortlessly seductive.

He kisses her before she knows what's happening, before he even knows what's happening himself. One moment, Reeve is staring down at her and watching the way her lips work nervously, her front teeth biting down on her bottom lip, and the next moment, his hands are on her waist and her mouth is opening for him, skinny little arms wrapping around his neck.

He knows then that there is no one else in the world he could be so in love with, and despite everything, he knows there is no one else in the world that he would rather share his life with.

When Reeve pulls away, she almost looks disappointed. "I'll come back to visit more often," he promises her, though he can see the doubt written across her face. "I'll make the time for it, I swear to you. It won't be like before."

"Reeve, I—"

"I know, I know," he says, clumsily putting the tips of his fingers against her lips. "You don't have to come to Junon. Forgive me."

She seems to feel guilty, her lips tightening and eyebrows knitting together as he lowers his hand. When she speaks, it's in a pleading whisper, her fingers toying with his hair lazily. "I just need a little time."

Time, his brain seems to spit at him, a bitter thought and feeling that Reeve quickly shakes off. Her brother is dying of a disease with no cure, and she is still carrying the weight of all that happened with Cloud and the others, he knows. Though he had only seen everything secondhand, and sometimes not at all, he himself cannot help feeling the weight of Aerith's death and the destruction of Midgar more often than not.

"Just give me a little time," she begs again in another broken whisper, and Reeve touches her shoulders to ease her, but it only makes her eyes water. "Please."

"Well . . ." He forces himself to smile at her, unsure as to why this sorrowful rejection stings so badly. It's not like he hadn't expected this, but after the time they've spent together, he thought perhaps Charlie might have been slightly more persuaded. "You'll know where to find me."

The next morning, Tseng already has the car running by the time Reeve makes it outside with Charlie hanging off his arm, bleary-eyed and shivering in her little pajamas. The sun is hardly starting to rise, giving little light to their surroundings, and his breath shows whenever he breathes. What grass is growing in the dirt parking area crunches beneath their feet as they make their way to the car.

Tseng offers to load his bag into the trunk, giving Reeve a few more seconds to spare with Charlie. He already misses the heat of her body tucked against the front of his own. He wants to smooth the hair back at her temple again, just to kiss her face. He knows very much that Charlie has been awake for hours, just like he has, just to lie in silence with their bodies tangled together, unsure as to how long it might be until they see each other again.

How foolish it seems that it's been so long. He could have come here anytime, could have called Tseng, who wouldn't have hidden Charlie's hiding place from Reeve if he really wanted to come visit. All he had to do was take a day from work and his capable volunteers could handle the workload for a single day.

Charlie leaving Cliff Resort, however, would certainly be more difficult, now that Reeve has seen how many people rely on her for nearly every aspect of their lives. A day in Junon might mean someone dying here. A day in Junon might mean not being there for Rufus's death.

"I'll call you," she promises, giving his hand a light squeeze. "And you can call me whenever you need advice for your airship."

"I will."

She kisses his cheek. "I love you," she tells him softly. "That much hasn't changed."

"Good-bye, Charlie," Reeve says, feeling far more sorry about leaving than he thought he would. "I'll see you again soon. Take care of yourself until then."

Her lips twitch. "I will."

Charlie stands and watches even as Reeve gets into the passenger seat of the car. Her arms are wrapped around herself, and the rising sun behind her makes her glow. It takes his breath away as he watches her through the defrosting window.

For a moment, she stands as vulnerable as the knock-kneed sixteen year old girl he had once known, a far distant memory now, a memory of the girl Charlie had been before being thrust into the public eye, a memory of the girl Charlie had been before learning to smile on cue and how to flatter the people that mattered.

She lifts a hand in farewell. Reeve puts his fingertips to the car window as the engine sputters, and Tseng begins to creep forward, beginning their descent.

Reeve watches Charlie until she's out of sight before turning back around in his seat.

"Her brother plans to resume his job as president in the next few days," Tseng says once they reach the bottom of the cliffside. "With Shinra being in the state it's in, he sees no reason as to why a vice president would be necessary."

Reeve turns his head to look at Tseng's profile. The Turk doesn't glance his way once. "The patients think it's funny, you know. I heard them telling Charlie."

"What's funny?" Tseng asks sharply.

"Rufus, yourself, and the others . . . Charlie included," Reeve explains, "they think you're like children, playing some secret game."

"We're running a company, not playing at games."

"A company with nothing to commodify, only the hopes of a cure."

"We're doing more than most where a cure is concerned."

It's another quiet ride with Tseng back to Junon.


Charlie wonders if it had all been nothing but a fever dream.

The memories of him infect her, and she has many memories of him.

Every touch of his, every smile, every kiss, they've all been seared into her brain over the last few years. She finds herself inexplicably drawn to him, just as she always has been, and though he had only been here for such a short period of time, it feels as if he continues to call for her from the seaside city that Reeve now calls home.

I just need a little time, she had told him, but time to do what? Time to see Rufus die of the disease? Time for her to recover from the wounds her journey with Cloud and the others gave her? Time to decide where her place is in the world?

Charlie runs a comb through her still-wet hair, trying to recall the look on Reeve's face when he had fallen asleep last night to keep from picturing the still and lifeless face of the woman who had died this afternoon, buried in the makeshift cemetery by the waterfall.

So Rufus is funding the WRO, she thinks, trying to decide whether or not she's still angry. After all, it's a reasonable thing to do, and Reeve's work with the WRO is not for nothing. He's done much to advance research related to a cure, and has helped find raw materials for the volunteers attempting to rebuild an entire city when Charlotte needed help.

But it's frustrating to know that Rufus and the Turks may have had access to the family fortune and refused to tell her.

It's pointless to dwell on it now. What's done is done, and what money has been spent is gone, and it's all going towards good causes now, instead of secret deals and cover-ups. She's helping people with her money, even if people don't realize it.

Her hair is long now, longer than she can ever remember it being. Her long hair was always part of what made her the most beautiful woman in the world, but she doesn't feel all that beautiful anymore.

She's gotten older, and her smile isn't as bright as it once was. Her eyes are always heavy and marked by shadows, and her lips are chapped and swollen. The ends of her hair are dead and split and it doesn't fall the way her hair used to naturally fall. There are wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes.

It occurs to her that she's nothing more than ordinary in that moment, just another victim of Shinra Incorporated. Underneath the makeup and false smiles, Charlie feels as if there is nothing but a confused little girl who never had the chance at a real life.

What is a real life anyway? she asks herself. I lived a life that people dreamt of. Women all over the world wanted to be me.

Would they have wanted to actually be her?

Charlie opens the medicine cabinet and pushes around some soaps and medication and razors, unsure she'll even find what she's looking for. But she finds it soon enough, a small pair of scissors that are beginning to rust, likely something found amongst the rubble of Midgar.

They're sharp enough, and once she tests the blades against the pad of her thumb, she closes the medicine cabinet and looks into the mirror with a certain resolve. With a deep sigh, Charlie sets about her work, doing it quickly before she loses her courage.

Thick chunks of wet blonde hair fall to the tiled floor with each snip of her scissors, until the ends of her hair reach her collarbones, and then she keeps going, until it's to her shoulders, until the ends just barely brush her shoulders. It looks slightly uneven, but she doesn't quite mind.

Instead, she feels a little lighter, but that's about it. The loss of her hair makes her feel nothing, especially since there is nothing she's able to do about the Shinra look to her face. She runs her fingers through it, combing it flat, shaking it out.

Her hair had made her beautiful, but now she finds that she looks painfully ordinary. She's never had hair this short before, not since she was a little girl and Rufus had accidentally gotten gum stuck in her hair. Father had been irate and had taken it upon himself to cut Charlie's hair to teach her a lesson, ignoring her sobs as they rang throughout the kitchen, watching her hair fall to the floor.


Dinner is taken in silence that night, the three of them sitting around a round table.

Charlie eats with her head down, ignoring the knowing looks that Rufus and Tseng have been exchanging all night. The Turk hadn't had much to say regarding her impromptu haircut, but Rufus had claimed to like it, confessing it made her seem older. In truth, she thinks the haircut would make her a good candidate for a Rufus Shinra stunt-double.

Afterwards, when Rufus begins to complain of pain, Charlie wheels him back to his bedroom to prepare some medication for him, helping him dress into more comfortable clothes and into bed.

"It was good to have healthy company, wasn't it?" he asks her, nearly dead-weight in her arms as she pulls him out of his wheelchair.

"Don't patronize me, Rufus."

The small, smug smile doesn't leave his face, though he does make a slight effort to propel himself towards the bed so as not to make his sister do all the work. "I was only making small talk."

Charlie eyes him suspiciously, pulling the blankets up over his body. "You and Tseng have been scheming."

"Who are you? My mother?" he asks jokingly, though his smile seems more of a grimace now, even as she turns off the overhead light. His pale face glows in the orange light from the table lamp. "You were a bit preoccupied. I didn't wish to disturb you with such tedious company plans."

"You should have told me," she protests. "I would have joined you."

He watches her for a moment, eyes burning a hole into the side of her head. She fusses with his blankets, brushes dust off his nightstand, wheels his wheelchair off to the side.

"Charlie," Rufus rasps, lying still as a statue.

She ignores him, busying herself with the dirty clothes on the ground.

"Char, stop fucking around," he says a little louder, a little more firm than before. This catches Charlie's attention, and she stands up straight, tossing his clothes into the laundry basket. "Come sit down for a moment."

Charlie does as he says, sitting down on the side of the bed and smoothing down her blouse. "What?" she asks sharply.

Rufus reaches slowly for her hand, and she allows him to take it loosely. No one can see them here. There is no one around to tell them to stop. What if she pulls away and never gets to hold her brother's hand again?

It is at that moment she is completely overwhelmed. Looking down at her baby brother, dying from an incurable disease, becomes too much for her. Charlie slips her hand away to cover her face as the tears burn her eyes, coming fast and quick with no way to stop them.

Rufus says nothing, but puts a hand on her upper arm, squeezing very gently. "It's very sweet of you to cry for me," he whispers, sounding halfway amused.

"I told you not to patronize me," she snaps, wiping at her cheeks and rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. "I know you're funding the WRO. Reeve admitted it today."

He sighs heavily. "I was under the impression he knew how to keep a secret."

"I figured it out myself. He only confirmed it."

"Are you upset with me?"

Charlie looks at him for a long time, frowning. She huffs, standing back up to brush some dust off the nightstand. "Why didn't you tell me you had access to Father's money?"

Rufus scrunches his nose. "Why? Would you like some?"

"It would have been nice to have some help trying to keep this company afloat—the company you wanted so badly," she snaps at him over her shoulder. It occurs to her then that she shouldn't be angry. She doesn't want the last memories with her brother to be tainted by anger and resentment. "I'm sorry. It's been a very difficult few months for me."

"I know." He hesitates for a minute, allowing Charlie time to compose herself. "I can't help but wonder if this is what you truly want."

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Charlie." Rufus pushes himself up, letting the sheet fall down to reveal his bare chest. There are already black spots on his freshly-changed bandages. "I've been feeling better. Stronger, even. And, respectfully, I believe it's time for you to step down from the presidency now that I'm mostly healed and capable again."

Charlie scoffs. She folds her arms across her chest, blushing furiously at the audacity of her little brother, bed-ridden for the most part and dying. "And if I say 'no'?"

"So you plan on continuing on as the president of the new Shinra Incorporated?"

"Well, I—I—" Charlie can't remember the last time she felt so small. "We don't know how long you have left, Rufus."

"Have faith in me, sister. With good luck, I will have years left to me, and I have extraordinarily good luck." When she has nothing to say to that, Rufus points upwards towards the ceiling. "See that panel there? Move it."

She decides to put her faith in her brother starting right now, obeying his request and moving the designated ceiling tile.

"There's going to be a bag up there. Do you feel it?" he asks, and she nods. "Careful now, it's heavy."

Charlie pulls the strap she feels for blindly, and a heavy-sounding bag drags across the ceiling and falls down into her arms, covered in a thin amount of dust.

"Good. Now, open it."

She shoots Rufus a skeptical look, but lowers herself and the bag onto the ground, unzipping the biggest pocket. Hundreds of bills are stuffed inside, none of them bound and all of them loose, some of them crisp and others crumpled and used.

"For you," Rufus murmurs, looking down upon her from the bed. "Don't spend it all at once, all right? There's more if you need it, but . . . I have a company to run, after all."

"What do you expect me to do with this?" Charlie whispers, humiliated. "You want me to leave? You ask me to step down as president and now you want me to go?"

"Not without saying a proper good-bye, that is."

"It's not funny."

"It's not a joke," Rufus replies, moving over in his bed to open up half the mattress. "I'll be fine, Charlotte. These people will be taken care of, and you can finally be free of the company's burden."

Charlie zippers the bag back up, feeling the tears return painfully as she climbs into bed beside her brother, slipping under the blankets and allowing herself this moment to be seen so completely bare and vulnerable.

Carefully, so as not to irritate his bruises, she places her head on his chest, one of his skinny arms around her shoulders and one of her own skinny arms draped across his stomach as she cries against his feverish flesh. She listens to the beating of his heart and nothing else, listening for any sort of abnormality, afraid that it will stop suddenly against her cheek.

She can't believe this is the same brother who used to hurt her, who used to manipulate her, who tried to kill her. Perhaps the painful reminder of his own mortality has softened him, or perhaps that cruel part of him has been repressed, only planning to come out again when things get stressful.

Or perhaps this is all part of the plan, to lure her into this false sense of security, in the hopes of convincing her to stay.

Regardless, when Charlie closes her eyes, she feels half a child again, safe and loved in her brother's arms, and she knows that upon waking in the morning, she will lack all necessary conviction.

So while the moon is high in the sky, and as the patients of Cliff Resort sleep restlessly late that night, Charlie quietly packs her things in the darkness and kisses her brother's head before closing his bedroom door behind her and creeping towards the front door, hoping to snag the keys to one of the cars that the Turks have been using.

Unfortunately, someone is still awake and sitting on one of the sofas in the foyer, flipping through several papers by lamplight.

"Going somewhere?"

Charlie jumps at the sound of Tseng's voice, and he eyes the two backpacks she has slung over both of her shoulders.

He rises from the sofa and moves forward slowly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes heavy and tired. "Do you plan on walking to Junon?"

"I'm not going to Junon. Not yet." She notes the look of surprise on his face, then. "There are things I need to do first, but I need a car."

Tseng hesitates, looking into her eyes for a long time as if expecting to find the truth written there. When he's seemingly satisfied with what he finds, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a key ring with nothing on it but a key to a car. Taking hold of Charlie's wrist, he puts the key into the palm of her upturned hand and closes her fingers over it.

She didn't think it would be so easy, and it makes her wary. "Does this make me a coward?"

"On the contrary," Tseng whispers, lowering his hand back to his side. "Give Reeve and Veld my regards . . . when you eventually make your way to them."

Charlie hesitates, looking down at her closed fist for a moment. She knew it would be difficult to leave Rufus had he been standing in front of her, but she didn't realize how difficult it would be to leave Tseng, as well.

If I leave, I'll never be able to come back the same. I'll be able to visit, but I'll no longer be part of the company, the company that I've been part of my entire life.

She thinks of the long scar on his torso and the way he looked when he had been bleeding out on the dusty floor of the Temple of the Ancients, sweating profusely and gasping for breath as she cried over his body.

But more than that, she thinks of him with a skinny face and nervous habits, a fear of speaking up when in Veld's company. She thinks of the comfortable and familiar touches they no longer feel embarrassed of sharing, the quiet intimacy that took years to hone.

She knows there is nothing left of Shinra Incorporated, and that all that remains of the company is a reputation and a handful of killers unwilling to leave the company's heir. And while the idea makes her squirm and makes her stomach flutter, these killers are family, and they have been wiping her tears and offering her comfort and caring for her for many years now.

"I'll make it a point to come see you when you settle in," he says softly, bringing Charlie out of her reverie and back to the foyer of Cliff Resort. "And Rufus's care will be our highest priority."

She chews on her lower lip. There is nothing left to say to him. Everything she wanted to say to Tseng was said when she thought he was dying at the Temple of the Ancients.

In the darkness, where no one is awake to witness their show of vulnerability, Charlie wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his warm neck. The gesture makes her eyes water, and she closes her eyes tight to avoid the tears spilling onto his flesh, even as his arms snake around her waist.

"Go," he speaks into her hair, and there is no denying it is spoken as an order, albeit a gentle and encouraging one.

Charlie pulls away and sneaks out the front door, hurrying down the ramp with her bags heavy on her shoulders, despite herself feeling a bit lighter than before.

Don't look back, she tells herself, unlocking the car and throwing her bags into the backseat, breathing heavily. The sky is beginning to lighten from the inky blackness she's used to during the nights here. If you look back, you'll want to stay. Don't look back.

Cliff Resort has become home to her in the past few months, and it's just as difficult leaving here as it had been leaving Costa del Sol that night all that time ago. She remembers laying eyes on the quiet resort town just before joining her new friends, back when they still were wary of her, back when they still hated her.

She opens the driver's side door and puts on foot in, hesitating, feeling eyes on the back of her neck.

Don't look back, she tells herself.

But she does. Charlie looks over her shoulder to see two silhouettes on the front balcony, one of them tall and lanky and half-hidden behind the shadow of someone sitting in a wheelchair.

Rufus holds a hand up to her. She falters, putting both feet on the ground again. It's difficult to make out their faces, shrouded in shadow from the flickering lamp against the front door behind them.

Knowing that it's now or never, Charlie forces herself into the car, closing the door and sticking the key in the ignition, her heart beating twice as fast as normal.

With one last look in the rearview mirror at her brother and the only other person she would ever consider something akin to her second brother, she pulls away, carefully creeping down the mountainside with her heart in her throat. It doesn't feel real, and it feels as if she'll see them again in the morning, and she'll continue on as president of Shinra Incorporated while her little brother continues to die slowly in his bed.

When she reaches the bottom of the cliff, the road smooths out, though there are no cars to be seen for miles, no headlights or soothing noise of distant traffic.

She's put Shinra behind her, and as she takes the nearest sign's advice and heads west for the ruins of Midgar, she's unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Laughter bubbles up her throat and spills from her lips, even as she cries and continues her drive through tears, the sun rising to give the browned and deadened landscape around her a gilded look to it.

No matter where she goes now, no one will be waiting to bring her home. The company is a shadow of its former self, and there is no one left to express their disappointment or to force her to be the face of the company. The shackles that bound her to her family's enterprise are broken, the expectations that followed her throughout her entire life are no more.

She laughs and sobs all the way to the place where it all began, fingers tight around the steering wheel, watching the crumbling skyline of Midgar grow closer and closer as the company and her former life grow more distant than ever.