It's a distant memory now, but she can remember if she thinks hard enough about it.
A late-night party at her father's manor in Midgar, with all of his executives and higher-ups drinking well into the night and filling the first floor of the home with cigar smoke.
They had been celebrating something, given the amount of bawdy cheering and the amount of hands her father had shaken that night, but Charlie had been too young at the time to understand what it was they had been celebrating. All she knows is that it had to have been important, given the type of guests that had been invited and considering their fancy dress—bowties and freshly ironed suits, shimmering gowns and shoes that clicked on the marble floors.
It had been a loud and hazy party, and she still remembers Heidegger's obnoxious laugh booming throughout the cavernous foyer, while inconspicuous waiters carried around platters of finger food and glasses of bubbly champagne.
The party had been so loud and her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Father never allowed her or Rufus to attend such parties, always confined to their bedrooms for the night with nothing to do but play board games and read the same books as always.
She had been sitting at the top of the main staircase that led upstairs from the open foyer, half-hidden behind the balustrade to spy on the party-goers, clad in a flowery nightgown that showed off her long and knock-kneed child legs, her hair a mess from the few hours of sleep she had gotten already.
It had been one of her father's personal friends who had spotted her, mid-conversation with her father. Her bladder had nearly let go when the old man had pointed a thin finger up at her, a curious little smile forming on his face. She had already been standing up, preparing to sprint back to her bedroom, when her father had turned to see what his friend was pointing at.
"Char!" he had called, before she could hurry out of sight. "Not so quick, my girl."
She had frozen, her heart pounding. The party continued all around them, and when she set eyes upon her father's face, it was to find his cheeks flushed and his forehead shiny with sweat and an amused look to him.
Father had beckoned her with a curl of his index finger. "Come here, Char."
"Yes, Father," she had said, straightening up and moving slowly down the stairs with her cheeks aflame as the guests all began to notice her.
With the hand not holding onto both his glass of brandy and his smoking cigar, Father had held her little hand in his. "Forgive my daughter," he had chuckled, hardly any irritation present in his voice. "Ever the curious little thing. How long have you been up there watching?"
Blushing harder, Charlie had shrugged. "Not long."
He must have drank a lot that night, because Father let her stay the rest of the time, introducing her to all kinds of people, even carrying her around with she began to grow tired. As the last of the guests had left and her eyes were growing very heavy, her cheek pressed against her father's shoulder and her head aching from the smoke that still lingered, he had carried her back upstairs to her bedroom and gently laid her in her bed.
"One day, when you're older," he had told her, pulling the blankets up to cover her, "it will be important that you know all of those people well, and command their respect."
"When I'm president, you mean?" she had asked sleepily, attempting to suppress a yawn.
Father had only hummed. "It's time for sleep. We'll not tell your brother about this, shall we, Char? It would surely only serve to make him jealous."
A secret with her Father, a secret that no one else would know. It was exciting, and made her smile wide. "Okay. Good-night, papa."
A hand on the side of her face, pushing the hair out of her eyes. He had smelled heavily of brandy. "Good-night, my girl."
She recalls this memory while kneeling before the weathered and crumbling marble tombstone with her family name on it.
Outside of what remains of Midgar, the wind whips at her face, still smelling faintly of mako and smoke from the large brush fires that are still burning in the near distance. She's amazed that this plot of land has remained relatively untouched, though considers it rather ironic, considering it's mostly her father's fault for all that's happened.
There are no flowers placed at her father's tombstone, no sentimental items left behind. Neither she nor Rufus have visited this place since they watched his body be buried on a rare rainy day, huddled together underneath a black umbrella held up for them by Tseng.
"Cid told me I'm not funny anymore," she says to the grave, tracing circles in the dirt with the very tips of her fingers. "You would be glad to hear that, I'm sure."
It's odd, she thinks, being able to speak to her father without having to hear him scold her. She can say anything now without fear of retribution.
Sniffling, Charlie swipes at her eyes with her sleeve to catch the first few tears before they can fall down her cheeks. "I hate you," she says, with such conviction that she knows it's all an act, knows that it's a lie, even if it's only partially one. This realization makes the tears come in earnest. "How could you do that to your own children? How could you hate us so much?"
She thinks of the letters he had left behind, the letters that revealed depth to her father that she never believed possible. How could she believe the sentiments written in those letters after all those years of being mocked and neglected? Does she truly believe, deep down, her father did love her at some point?
Perhaps. The fonder memories of her father have been pushed back by the beatings and abuse, by the cruel words spoken to her that still sting today, but there had been rare moments, such as the party at the manor, that gave her insight, even if her little girl-self hadn't recognized such vulnerability in the moment.
Once the tears slow and she catches her breath, the anger seems to fade along with the sobs. "Rufus is dying," she confesses, surprised that it's not half as painful to say aloud as she thought it might be. "Once he's dead, the company will die with him." Charlie swallows hard. "I'm glad. Let the company rot in hell with you."
And once again, the anger returns in full. Charlie gropes at the ground for rocks, leaping backwards to throw them at the tombstone, unable to leave even the smallest mark. She screams, listening to her voice echo all around the barren landscape, throwing rocks until there's nothing left to do but sink back down to her knees and sob into palms covered with mud and dirt.
And it's a queer feeling, wishing her father were here to listen to what she has to say, even if he said nothing in return, even if he continued to puff on his foul cigar and look down at her with that awful condescending look she recalls so well.
"Why did you write those letters?" she cries through her fingers, the tears hot and painful, a lump in her throat the size of materia. "How could you let me think you actually cared about me?"
She lays there for a long time, allowing her clothes to dirty as she curls up in front of her father's grave, allowing the time to pass her by, watching the sun rise higher and higher in the sky until the heat is too much to bear.
"I'm leaving everything behind," she rasps through dry lips, her throat on fire. Half of her face rests in the dirt, but she doesn't care. It reminds her of the days spent with Cloud and Cid and the others, camping underneath the stars when they couldn't find an inn to sleep in. "What's left of the company . . . I'm leaving, and I'm never going back."
President Shinra still doesn't answer, and Charlie finds herself too exhausted to move.
"I'm in love with Rufus, daddy. I've always been in love with him, even when you tried to convince yourself it wasn't true," she admits, and it's another weight off her chest. "I'm in love with him and he's going to die."
That is a truly painful thing to speak aloud, she realizes.
By the time she gets back into the car, sweat is dripping down the side of her face, mingling with the tears.
She turns the key and the engine sputters hopelessly, turning over only to immediately die. Charlie finds this some sick form of karma, unable to do anything but grip the steering wheel for a moment, staring out at the crumbling Shinra Building that looms in the foreground.
But it's hot, and she has things that she needs to bring with her, and they would slow her down.
Stepping back out of the car, she pops the hood to take a look at the engine, which has started smoking slightly. Leave it to Tseng to give her a faulty car, she can't help but think, probably in the hopes that she might return to Cliff Resort begging for help. Despite what he may seem, she knows that both Tseng and Rufus love playing the hero.
Without any tools, it's a hopeless situation, but her ears perk up at the sound of buzzing. For a moment, she looks to the sky, thinking it to be an airplane the size of the Tiny Bronco, but the skies are clear with no plane in sight.
It's only when she lowers her eyes again does she notice the cloud of dust growing bigger and bigger, and through the dust, a small speck seems to be growing bigger, as well. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be someone on a motorcycle, and Charlie slams the hood closed and climbs up onto the roof of the car, hoping to wave them down (but not before making sure her gun is tucked neatly in her pants).
Thankfully, the driver seems to notice her, slowing down as they approach the gate to the plot of land that she may one day be buried in.
"Thank you so much," she says, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger's face underneath a black helmet, one hand on her back just in case things go wrong. "My engine died and I'm trying to get to Mid—"
"Long time no see."
He needs only to take the helmet off for Charlie to recognize the blond hair, sticking up in all directions, made worse by the helmet. "Cloud!" she gasps, jumping down from the roof of the car. "I never thought I'd find you here!"
"Cars are a rare commodity these days in the city," he explains with a small smile, folding his arms over his chest. "Or rather, fuel is. Figured I'd double-check an abandoned car before letting it rust here." Cloud's eyes sweep up and down her body, narrowing a bit. "What are you doing here? Where have you been?"
"It's a really long story," she sighs, giving her head a shake. "If you're able to bring me to Midgar, I'll tell you everything."
"There's nothing in Midgar now but scraps and junk. Everyone's started settling in Edge."
"Then bring me there, would you?"
He considers her for a moment. "You cut your hair," he notes bluntly.
"Yeah," she says, slightly breathless. "You got a motorcycle."
"Yeah." She catches the ghost of a smile on Cloud's boyish face. "All right. I'll bring you to Edge."
Cloud helps tie her things to the bike and offers her a spot on the back. She feels guilty for leaving the car behind, but there's nothing in it to ransack and Cloud assures her there will be another in the city, one that will likely get her wherever she needs to go.
It's too loud to explain everything while they're riding, so it's a quiet ride through the abandoned slums of Midgar. He's an expert rider, it seems, and navigates the junk quite well. Charlie takes it all in, the flattened homes and burnt remains of buildings, having been subject to looters.
Much of the plate's infrastructure has collapsed, leaving steel beams all over the ground and giving way to the sky above, more light shining down than was ever given to the slums.
It's a very sobering and solemn ride, as well. Having seen the upper part of Midgar flattened by Meteor's close encounter, it had been heartbreaking, and nothing had affected her heart so much as the knowledge that her home was gone and never coming back. Midgar may have been a polluted, crowded city with millions of people living beneath her, but it was her city in a sense, and it almost felt as if losing Midgar was like losing a limb.
When they break free of Midgar's limits, Charlie is surprised that there's a wide paved road leading east, towards the sprawling make-shift city of Edge. She knows that Reeve has been busy encouraging the development of a new city for the refugees, but she hadn't expected it to be like this.
She can't imagine how much money has been poured into the infrastructure here—there are more paved roads crisscrossing throughout the city and more being built, skyscrapers are under construction and billboards line the sides of the roads. While some homes do seem to be made from recycled sheet metal and wooden beams and whatever other junk was likely salvaged from Midgar, other homes look to be made rather professionally, family homes with numbers above mailboxes.
Children run about unsupervised, screaming with laughter and avoiding the shadowy alleyways where some people always seem slumped against brick walls, clutching their heads or stomachs or coughing loudly.
"The disease is bad here?" she asks Cloud as he slows down to accommodate traffic, weaving in between honking cars and through the empty city center, where the volunteers seem to have made it their hub, eating lunch and socializing and directing traffic where the roads collide.
Cloud hums in answer.
"I brought medicine," she continues, and his head turns slightly as if he's suddenly interested in what she has to say. "It's not a cure, but it will alleviate symptoms."
"I wouldn't speak about it too loudly if you don't have enough for everyone. Edge is made up of people who were living in the slums. It can still be a dangerous place, depending on who you're dealing with, and it seems like people have started to notice who you are."
He's right, of course. Though they're moving too quickly for anyone to really get a good glimpse at her, people's eyes are drawn to her. She can feel their hard stares when she passes by, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.
"Where are we going?" she asks suddenly, wondering for a moment if Cloud is just giving her a brief tour of the new city.
"You'll see."
Criss-crossing through a few more side-streets, their destination appears to be a half-built building. Cloud parks the motorcycle outside the makeshift door, rough wood and slightly eaten away by insects. This street seems to be a work in progress still, but it's a bit quieter and emptier than the center of the city.
"What is this place?" she asks, looking up at the metal roof.
"Cloud, you're back!"
The soft girlish voice is half-familiar to Charlie, and she turns her head so quickly that her neck cracks, surprised to see Marlene darting through the door and nearly throwing herself at the bike. She smiles at Cloud before catching sight of Charlie on the back, her little eyes widening.
"Charlie! Is it really you?"
"Hi," Charlie says awkwardly, looking at Cloud in the hopes of an explanation. "Is Barret here, as well?"
"Daddy had to go somewhere for a little bit," Marlene answers for Cloud. "But Tifa's here."
"Tifa's here?"
"Marlene, go tell Tifa I'm back," Cloud instructs the girl with a gentle ruffle of her hair. He begins to unpack Charlie's things, slinging bags over his shoulder with ease. "We need to talk to Charlie for a little bit."
Marlene salutes him in a rather endearing way, running back into the building and shouting Tifa's name several times before lowering her voice.
"Barret had to go somewhere?" Charlie asks, suddenly very conscious of how many questions she's been asking. It makes her feel out of touch, though she had been hiding away for several months, unable to see the city or her friends with her own eyes. "Is he all right?"
"He went back to Corel only a few days ago. Once he made up his mind, there was no changing it." He nods towards the open door, and Charlie steps through it. "No telling when he'll be back."
The inside is full of furniture, most of it broken, but still usable. There's a round table tucked into a corner with three chairs around it, and the shelves are full of empty bottles and containers, some filled with small amounts of food, bright fruit that surely isn't native to the area.
"Oh, Charlie! What a surprise!"
Charlie jumps, spinning on her heels to see a rush of dark hair rounding a corner, swinging lazily from side-to-side. As if unsure whether or not to hug her, Tifa holds her arms out awkwardly, but Charlie gives in and complies, seemingly making the girl happy.
"I found her outside Midgar, stranded with a dead car," Cloud explains, setting Charlie's things down carefully by the round table.
"What were you doing outside Midgar?" Tifa asks, folding her arms across her chest. "It's dangerous out there. I've heard talk of bandits roaming around, scavenging for anything they can find. A few men from the newly reformed watch have been dispatched out there recently."
"I was . . ." Charlie looks between Cloud and Tifa quickly, blushing. She heaves a great sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. "I was visiting my father's grave. I was curious to know whether it was still there."
Tifa purses her lips and it's quiet for a moment. There's no doubt in Charlie's mind that the atrocities committed by President Shinra are still fresh and painful in Tifa's mind. "Your hair looks nice," she finally says, quieter than before.
"Thank you," Charlie replies, clearing her throat.
Tifa offers her a small smile, but it's kind and genuine and welcoming. "It's really good to see you again, Charlie."
"Yeah," she can't help but agree, suddenly very at ease. "It's good to be back. Do you have time to talk?"
Once Tifa convinces Marlene to go play, the three adults sit around the table. Tifa pours them glasses of brown liquid from a dusty bottle that burns going down, and sets out some of the fresh fruit that Charlie had seen earlier.
"Marlene lives here, then?" Charlie asks, wondering if either of them have any news on Elmyra. If she's still in Kalm, it might be worth a visit on her way to her next destination.
"Marlene and another," Tifa answers her quietly. "A boy, Denzel. Cloud found him outside Aerith's church." She hesitates, as if reluctant to give any more information, but finally leans forward. "He's sick."
Charlie straightens. "I brought some medicine with me, if you'd like me to take a look at him later. I have a bit of experience with the disease."
Tifa's dark eyes widen in surprise. "You have medicine? And it works?"
Charlie nods slowly.
"Where have you been, Charlie?" Tifa asks, not before standing to dig around behind the bar, finally giving Charlie a rag to wipe the dust, dirt, and sweat off her face. "Reno and Rude are in Edge pretty frequently, but everyone tries to keep their distance. I haven't dared ask them about you, though."
"What have you heard of Shinra?" Charlie prompts her, wondering how far removed she really is from this new city. "What do the people say?"
"Well . . . none of it is really optimistic." Tifa casts Cloud a sideways look. "Look, Charlie . . . we're really sorry about what happened to your brother. In the end . . . he did try to stop Weapon and save Midgar."
Hesitating, Charlie swallows hard. Cloud doesn't seem that sorry at all, avoiding eye contact and swirling the drink in his glass. She doesn't know why it's so difficult to bring herself to admit Rufus isn't dead, but knowing that he's dying of the disease, she wonders if there's any point in correcting Tifa. It might be better for everyone to think he's dead, anyway.
"Thank you," Charlie rasps, taking a long swig of her drink and letting it warm her stomach. "What else have you heard?"
"Nothing, really. No one knew where you were, or if you were even still alive. One day, people reported seeing you rather frequently in Midgar, and the next . . . you and all the Turks with you were gone without a trace." Tifa cradles her cup and sighs. "What happened to you? Where have you been all this time? You haven't had anything to do with the WRO, have you? Have you heard from Reeve at all?"
After another deep breath, Charlie begins her story. She tells Cloud and Tifa about what happened at the home in Midgar, and how those men had tried to kidnap her for unknown reasons. She tells them about Tseng bringing her to a long abandoned mountain resort, though keeps the location vague, only wanting to protect Rufus and the other patients still there.
Keeping Rufus's situation a secret, however, she does continue to tell them about the diseased patients they had found, and how she and the Turks had found a doctor to work on researching and producing medication. It's then that she shows them the contents of one of her bags.
Tifa's eyes widen. "Is it a cure?"
"No, not quite. We've been using it on the patients at the resort, and it seems to alleviate the symptoms . . . the pain, mostly. It's a stimulant, and highly addictive if given in large doses." Charlie looks at her friends very seriously. "I have no intention of staying here long. I have other things to take care of, but I wanted to bring some medicine to the city, and to see what the WRO has accomplished here."
"What about the company?" Cloud interrupts, stoic and solemn as ever.
"The company . . ." Charlie repeats quietly. "There is no company anymore, not really. And besides, I . . . I want nothing to do with the company anymore. I'm done with Shinra, but whether or not Shinra is done with me . . ." She shakes her head, not wanting to think about it. "The executives are gone—Heidegger, Scarlet, and Hojo are dead, we've been working under the assumption that Palmer is dead, and Reeve has gone to Junon to lead the World Regenesis Organization. All that's left is me and the Turks, and the Turks are currently playing babysitter to dying patients and working on creating more medicine."
"A tedious job for the Turks," Cloud snorts.
"Yes," Charlie says, unable to keep a small smile at bay. "Elena certainly thinks so." Her smile fades quickly, wondering how much of a grudge Avalanche still holds against her murderous and vengeful family. "Just know . . . if you ever have need of anything, the Turks will aid you. As will I."
"You're not leaving tonight, are you?" Tifa reaches across the table to touch Charlie's wrist lightly. She almost flinches and pulls away from Tifa, but resists the urge. "We have a spare mattress you could sleep on. We'll introduce you to Denzel, and . . . well . . . we could use your help with something, and I know you're rather handy."
"Oh?" Charlie raises her eyebrows. "Well, I suppose I'm not really in a rush. What do you need?"
"Without Barret, it's been difficult working on this place, especially with Cloud off doing deliveries and with the kids around." Tifa's face suddenly brightens as she looks around the dark building, lit mostly by candles and whatever sunlight can filter through the fractured windows. "I want to make this the next Seventh Heaven, but it's a lot of work for just one person."
She doesn't need much convincing. Rebuilding a new Seventh Heaven would be the least she could do, considering the fate of Tifa's last bar. "All right, I'll stay until it's done."
Before Charlie takes to the spare mattress for the night, Cloud and Tifa take her upstairs and to a bedroom that's closed off, childish drawings taped to the door. Tifa knocks softly before opening it, peeking inside.
"He's sleeping," Tifa sighs. "I'll wake him up."
Denzel is a boy of around ten, Charlie finds, with a dark spot on his forehead, slightly covered by mousy-brown hair that's wavy and tangled. He's a scrawny thing, she thinks, wearing a gray t-shirt that seems two sizes too big for him and is stained all down the front.
When Tifa is able to wake Denzel, the boy's eyes find Cloud first. "Cloud, you're back," he rasps, touching his fingers to his forehead as if to check if he's still sick.
"We found you some medicine," Cloud tells him, sitting at the foot of the bed and looking up at Charlie. "It'll help with the pain."
"Hi, Denzel," Charlie smiles, kneeling at his bedside and shifting the backpack off her shoulders. Brown eyes trace her features for a moment before narrowing. "I'm—"
"Charlie," Denzel interrupts her, blinking innocently a few times. "I know who you are."
"Oh?" This makes her slightly nervous. "You seem a bit young to have been keeping up with current events."
"It's not that," the boy says, with an attitude reminiscent of Rufus as a boy when he was being deliberately misunderstood all for the sake of a joke. "Where I lived before . . . there were pictures of you."
Charlie's cheeks redden. "Oh?" she says again, not sure how to respond without knowing exactly what kind of pictures that this young boy had been exposed to. She reaches into her bag to retrieve some medicine, deciding to give him less than she would give a severely diseased adult. "Were they good pictures, at least?"
"I guess so," he replies moodily, watching her hands go to work preparing the medicine. "They were of you and her son."
Charlie freezes, lifting her eyes to meet Denzel's. Her son? "Who?" she asks again, desperate for more clues.
"Ruvie's son. She's the woman I used to live with, after my parents . . ." He trails off awkwardly, looking away from her and completely oblivious to the bombshell he's just dropped on her.
"Yes," she breathes, hardly able to believe this twist of fate. "Reeve's mother—" She catches sight of Cloud and Tifa exchanging a look out of the corner of her eye—"Ruvie. Do you know what happened to her?"
Denzel doesn't answer, but he scrunches his face up, like he's about to cry. Charlie decides not to ask anymore questions while she administers the medicine.
His silence is answer enough.
It takes roughly a week for Tifa's new bar to be built.
While she enjoys working with her hands again and having a distraction available to her, Charlie had thought being in the new city would be exciting, but she had quickly come to the realization that Edge is not—and never will be—Midgar.
It feels like she's living in the slums, when what she craves is the top-side chaos that she misses so badly. She misses the nightlife and the blinking lights atop theaters, the constant warmth that was due to the reactors, and she misses her high-rise apartment that allowed her to look out over the city in all of its splendor.
Good and fresh food is scarce and hard to come by. While some store-owners accept currency of some kind, bartering is typical within Edge, as most people are in desperate need of supplies rather than money.
The people are dirty and rude, unafraid to put someone in their place, and though Charlie tries to hide her face when sent out for supplies or to take a quick look around the city, it's to find men cat-calling her or to hear healthy citizens berating the diseased ones that slump against alley walls and groan when the pain overwhelms them.
Charlie is fed a diet of canned food for the most part, with fresher food being rationed between Marlene and Denzel, but Tifa is still able to make relatively hearty dinners some nights with expired food and browning vegetables. It's always served with a pint of beer, not quite up to Charlie's usual standard, but it gets her drunk rather quickly, and sometimes late at night, she and Tifa are able to coerce some laughter from Cloud.
Denzel begins to venture out of his bedroom more often as the days drag on, and he opens up more to Charlie when he sees Marlene interact with her. He doesn't speak much of Ruvie, but asks about her travels and enjoys hearing accounts of Angeal's experiences as a SOLDIER that Charlie once believed she had forgotten.
At the end of the week, after Cloud hangs the freshly painted SEVENTH HEAVEN sign, customers begin to file in.
Charlie likes to people-watch while washing dishes. She finds it interesting to see how a place like Seventh Heaven can impact the city's morale, for the customers certainly don't come here for the 'delicious' food or the expensive second-rate alcohol.
The people come to meet with their friends and escape the oppressive atmosphere of the inner city, to escape the disease and unhappiness. The people come to laugh and have a good time and share stories and rumors and gossip, oblivious to the Shinra washing dishes behind the bar. In fact, the people don't even seem to recognize Cloud or Tifa, either, as heroes that saved them from the world's end, but no one is complaining.
On the eighth night, Charlie decides it's time for her to leave under the cover of darkness. She's spent enough time in Edge, and without further work for her to do, it's time to move on. She tells Cloud so while the bar is still open and while Tifa is still serving customers.
"I'll need a car," she says to him, standing outside in the cool air, taking a break from the constant chatter coming from inside. "And fuel, if you have it. I'll leave some medicine with you for Denzel, and I have money, as well. Put it to good use, would you?"
"Where are you going next?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest.
"Kalm," she replies. "I plan on making my way further west afterwards. I want to see what's become of the world before I decide what to do next." As she looks into Cloud's bright mako-infused eyes, she sighs. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"The Buster Sword. What have you done with it?"
Cloud hesitates, his guard dropping. She fears she may have made a mistake or that she overstepped, but he only shrugs. "Due south of Midgar, there's a cliff that overlooks the entire city. You'll find it there."
"Thank you."
It only takes Cloud a few hours to procure what she needs. The car is beat-up and old, but he promises her that it will run well. The gas tank is full, and Cloud has placed a few more canisters in the backseat that will get her where she needs to go.
By that time, the bar has closed for the night, and Tifa is able to say her good-byes while the children are fast asleep.
"Thank you for having me," she tells them both, genuinely grateful for such gracious hosts within such a dangerous city. "If the bar ever needs an upgrade, just give me a call. I'll be back in town again soon, I'm sure."
"It was good to see you again, Charlie." Tifa gives her a warm hug. "Take care of yourself."
"Thanks for the medicine," Cloud adds, giving Charlie a soft pat on the shoulder as she opens the car door, tossing her backpack inside. "We'll see you around."
It's late when she drives away towards the center of Edge, making her way towards Midgar again, but when she spots a flash of red hair against one of the buildings, she pulls the car into an empty lot and follows it, keeping an eye out for any potential people looking for a bit of violence.
When Charlie peers around a corner, where it looked as if a hulking shadow had been standing, a bony hand comes down on her shoulder and forces her relatively gently against a steel wall, making her heart leap into her throat.
"Got ya," Reno murmurs, releasing her and grinning, pearly white teeth flashing at her through the moonlight. The hulking shadow appears to be Rude, stepping up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner. "Fancy meeting you here. Bit late to be skulking about Edge, don't you think? Wouldn't do much good for the boss to let you walk away, only for you to be killed in the streets of Edge a week later."
"I was just leaving," she explains, "but I have to make a detour. Would you two care to join me?"
"A detour?" Reno asks, crossing his arms and glancing at Rude with a mischievous little smile. "What'd'ya think, Rude?"
"One more adventure before I slip through your fingers for the last time," she tells them, giving them a sweet smile that seems to convince them. "I think you'll enjoy it."
"Reno," Rude says quietly, nodding at her. "Get the car started."
Charlie continues to check the rear view mirror to ensure the headlights of Reno and Rude's car are still there, still following her.
She had done just as Cloud said by driving due south of Midgar over bumpy dirt paths that can no longer be considered roads, driving slowly and carefully to make sure to avoid potential sinkholes caused by Meteor's impact.
It's been months now since Meteor nearly touched down and destroyed the planet, and sometimes Charlie can't decide whether it feels like a lifetime ago or if it feels like only yesterday.
Some days she wakes up and expects to look outside to find the sky a blood-red color, other days she dreams of the shaking bunker and the fear deep in her heart when she thought that it was all over, the idea that she and Reeve were going to die together in a dark room beneath her father's manor.
She knows that she should wake up every morning and be grateful—grateful that she's healthy and not dying of an incurable disease, grateful that Meteor didn't kill her, grateful that Sephiroth didn't kill her, grateful that she's a Shinra and not an unfortunate victim of the Turks or of Rufus or of her father.
But it's difficult to be grateful, especially living in such a post-apocalyptic world such as this, roaming around the planet with no true home or place of belonging. Charlie would give anything to be anyone else in the world, and it weighs heavily on her as the little rusty car climbs the sloping hill of the cliff that overlooks Midgar, with Reno and Rude still following behind as the sun begins to break the horizon.
Time means nothing to her anymore. No matter how much sleep she gets, she will always be exhausted. It was better to leave in the middle of the night, anyway. She's no good at good-byes, especially where children are concerned.
Charlie reaches the top of the cliff as the sun begins to rise in earnest, and as she parks as close to the edge as she can, the adrenaline begins to surge through her. She isn't as tired anymore, and when Reno and Rude step out of their own car, parked just behind hers, they still haven't a clue what they're doing this far from Edge or Midgar.
"You know I hate surprises," Rude tells her, earning himself a soft chuckle from Reno, who digs his hands deep into his pockets and looks out towards the ruins of Midgar, a solemn expression suddenly falling over his face as his half-hearted smile fades.
"Yeah, Charlie." Reno looks around the barren cliff-side. It's all dirt and boulders, not a tree or blade of grass in sight. All of the terrain around Midgar is the same, sucked dry from the reactors. "What're we doin' here? Time to come clean."
"I just wanted to see something before I left," she explains, afraid that the sword will be missing and she'll have dragged both Reno and Rude away from their post for nothing. "Cloud said it should be just over here."
Even if they're annoyed, they say nothing, following Charlie wordlessly as she walks closer to the edge. She can see the shadow of something behind an orange boulder a little taller than her and three times as wide.
"It's here," she breathes, speaking more to herself than to anyone else, "just like he said."
Though it's rusted and worn and clearly uncared for, the Buster Sword stands proud on the cliff, the tip of it dug into the ground, sturdy enough to keep it from falling or rolling away. "He would be rolling in his grave if he knew," Charlie says with a sad smile, kneeling before the sword and taking in her surroundings. She doesn't quite understand the significance of this place, but it feels right, looking out at the city.
"Is that . . . ?" Reno asks warily, stepping up to Charlie's left side and stroking his chin.
Rude hums, giving a non-verbal answer to Reno's question.
When Charlie looks over her shoulder to glance at both Turks, they're in the middle of exchanging a knowing look, but she doesn't press them about it. If it were any of her business, she knows they would tell her.
"On our way to Icicle Inn, we stopped briefly in Modeoheim. I found the place that he died," she tells them, brushing some fresh dirt off the blunted blade. "And at the Northern Crater . . . so close to the Lifestream, I . . ." Charlie feels budding tears burning her eyes. "It's silly. It must have been a dream. I was feverish and delirious, but for a moment, I thought I spoke to him."
"You . . . spoke to . . . Zack?" Reno asks.
"Not Zack. Angeal," she answers, leaning back to sit upon her heels. "Don't you remember how much time we used to spend together?"
Rude scoffs, but it isn't an unwelcome sound. "I remember. Tseng found it infuriating. Veld, as well."
"Oh yeah," Reno adds, sounding sure of himself again. "Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago, huh? Well? What'd he have to say to you?"
Charlie thinks. She hadn't been in her right mind. It couldn't have been real, and yet . . . his voice sounded just like she remembered it, and she doesn't think her subconscious could have given her such an encouraging little pep talk.
"When we reached Icicle Inn, it was right after Aerith was killed, and . . . at the time, I assumed that Tseng had been left for dead at the Temple of the Ancients," she tells them. Charlie wonders why she never told Tseng this. "I pressed onward towards the Northern Crater with Cloud and the others because I desired revenge, or vengeance, or . . . something like that, but really, I . . ."
She hesitates. The memories of those few days and weeks seem fuzzy inside of her head.
"We anticipated meeting Sephiroth at the Northern Crater, and we expected a fight. We all were under the impression that the Northern Crater would be our last destination and that we would end things there, once and for all." She runs a hand through her hair, having forgotten that she cut it so short. "I never intended on returning. I was prepared for the worst. I had given up the moment I was dragged away from Tseng at the Temple of the Ancients."
Charlie expects the polite silence from Rude, but Reno's silence makes her slightly nervous.
"Sephiroth had done something, or perhaps it was how close we were to the Lifestream, but several of us fell unconscious at the same time, and that's when I spoke with him. Or at least, that's when I thought I spoke with him."
"Yeah? And what'd he say?"
"It was strange, I . . . I couldn't see him. Everything around me was dark, but I could feel him, like I knew he was standing right behind me, just out of my vision." She inhales deeply. The conversation had brought her such peace, despite how short it had been. "He told me that nothing the company did to him was my fault. We said a proper good-bye, and . . . he asked me if I was really just going to give up."
Reno snorts. "Sounds like somethin' he'd say."
"I don't even know if it was real." Charlie pushes herself to her feet, slowly wrapping long fingers around the hilt of the Buster Sword, wondering if she'll be able to feel Angeal's presence once more, if only to feel a bit more courageous, but nothing seems to change. "But it was real to me."
Something taps the very top of her head. It startles her, but when she looks up at the sky, three cold raindrops tap-tap-tap lightly upon her forehead and cheeks. She lowers her eyes to look once more at the Buster Sword, releasing the hilt and taking a step back as the rain begins to pick up, softening the hard dirt ground.
"Look's like someone's watching over you," Rude says, but she can't tell if he's serious or if he's mocking her.
Charlie turns to face them both, the fat drops coming down harder. "I'm going west," she says confidently. "I need to see for myself what has become of the world. I need to do what I can to right Shinra's wrongs."
She expects them to protest, to call her crazy, to shake their heads or laugh in her face, but they do none of those things.
"Be careful," Rude says.
"Stay out of trouble," Reno adds, "and call us if you ever find yourself in a jam."
"I will," she promises.
"What will you do afterwards?" Rude asks her.
Charlie purses her lips, looking off towards Midgar again. The city is dark and gray and lifeless, a metal shell of the place she once called home.
"Junon is my last stop," she answers, looking up once more and letting her eyes flutter closed, the rain washing over her. "I'll decide there."
