While Kalm is just as busy as Edge, it's not half so big.

It's almost impossible to drive through the cracked and uneven streets due to the amount of refugees who seem to have been camping out wherever there's space available, and Charlie's patience is running thin as she makes her way towards the other end of town.

Some people attempt to wave her down, others approach the windows when she slows to a crawl, but she keeps her eyes on the road and refuses to look anyone in the eyes, terrified that someone might recognize her and resort to violence. For the most part, however, the refugees in the streets here do not look diseased. In fact, as Charlie continues her drive through the center of town, she hardly sees anyone marked by black bruises.

The further she gets from the center of town, the less people there are crowding the streets, though Charlie doesn't feel any better about it. She sees the burnt remains of the building where Rufus had been kept for a while, remembering what Tseng had written in the unnecessary mission report that had been left on her bed one night.

It seems so long ago now that the Turks had been searching tirelessly for her brother, only to bring him back sick and on his deathbed.

The house she's come to see still stands, thankfully, and she parks directly in front of it, cursing herself for not bringing a gift, even something as simple as flowers.

Charlie takes a long look at herself in the rearview mirror. With her hair cut choppily and short, barely brushing her jaw, and without any makeup or fancy clothes, she supposes she could fit right in with the displaced victims.

People who have studied her face or who have worked in close proximity may still recognize her, but she can't be the only person in Kalm with blonde hair and sharp features, and she might be able to sweet talk her way into convincing someone who might recognize her into believing it a simple case of mistaken identity.

Out of fear that someone might attempt to break into her car while she isn't watching, Charlie hides the extra fuel in the trunk and slings the bag full of medicine over her shoulder, looking up and down the street quickly for a sign of any nosy Turks. She doesn't see any, but that doesn't really mean anything. She's learned by now to always expect at least one always lurking in the shadows, watching their prey until the perfect moment to pounce.

She knocks swiftly upon the front door, finding herself missing the soft pitter-patter of Marlene's feet hurrying down the stairs from just inside. After all, this place had been home for a time, a temporary respite from the cruel and harsh outside world, and she had been incredibly grateful for that safety and comfort.

Charlie can't help but wonder if Marlene is truly happy in Edge. It must be nice for her to be with Tifa again, and she knows that the girl is quite fond of Cloud, but being around diseased adults and children alike surely is hard on a little girl's psyche. Nothing about her behavior suggested she was unhappy in Edge, but Charlie can't help but wonder if Marlene had been putting on the same fake smiles that Charlie had learned to do around that age.

Before she has the chance to dwell any further on it, the door opens slowly to reveal a gaunt and hunched woman that surely can't be Elmyra. She looks to have aged ten more years since the last time Charlie had been here, with dark circles underneath her eyes and her light hair thrown back into a tight bun, small little flyaways framing her face. There's more gray in her hair than Charlie remembers, too.

"Charlie," she says in surprise, her voice still full of warmth and emotion, just as it was before. Deadened eyes flick left and right, as if searching for unexpected company. "Come in, please. And quickly, dear."

Charlie steps inside the house and Elmyra immediately quickly closes the door, locking it. "Forgive me," she tells Elmyra, who continues to pace back and forth in a panic, peeking through the closed blinds on the nearby windows, turning off a few lamps in the sitting room. "I didn't mean to drop in so unexpectedly. I would have called, but I don't have your number, and I wasn't entirely certain you still had a phone that worked."

"No, don't apologize, child. Here, to the kitchen." Elmyra places a hand on the small of Charlie's back, urging her towards the dimly lit kitchen. "Sit down. Would you like some tea? I was just about to have some, myself."

"Tea would be lovely, thank you," Charlie replies, keeping her eyes on Elmyra. There's something twitchy about her, and Charlie can't tell if it's general paranoia, or if something had happened. "How have you been? Kalm seems to be in good shape—compared to Midgar, anyway."

With her back to Charlie, fussing around with teabags and a kettle, she answers, "Things have been fine. How is Marlene?"

"Marlene is okay. I just saw her, not long ago. I went to Edge, that new city they're building west of Midgar." Charlie decides to continue as Elmyra fumbles with a tea bag, not wanting to press anything. "She's with Cloud and Tifa, and she has a friend about her age that stays with them."

"And her father?"

"Cloud said Barret had business to attend to, but I'm sure he'll return soon. I believe he went back to Corel for the time being."

Elmyra eventually finishes with the tea, setting a cup down in front of Charlie and sitting across the table. She cups the cup in her palms, inhaling slowly. "What happened that night in Midgar? You and Reeve didn't return for some time, and I hear talk of you often. Gossip, mostly. Nothing ever seems certain. No one seems to know where you've been hiding."

Charlie considers her, feeling very powerful underneath Elmyra's fragile gaze. Something has happened, surely, to make her this way. What harm is there in telling her the truth? "In the mountains," she says, half of the truth. "I stayed in Midgar for a while after Meteorfall, until it no longer became safe. My brother . . ." She hesitates. "He didn't survive, and I became the sole remaining Shinra. They wanted to keep me safe."

"'They'?"

"The Turks," Charlie answers sheepishly.

This seems to be the answer that Elmyra expected, but she doesn't make too much of a fuss over it. "It seems nowhere is safe these days."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asks. There's an awkward silence in which she thinks Elmyra might not have heard her. "Is the disease prominent here, as well?"

"It was here, for a time." Elmyra takes a sip of her tea. "Only recently the diseased were moved out of the city. Everyone here knows what happens to them that are affected, so they're all convinced they were taken to a place to die. Or worse . . ."

"That's not true." Charlie straightens in her chair, sipping her tea to appear polite. Elmyra seems surprised to be contradicted. "The patients were brought somewhere more comfortable, yes, but to a place where more resources and tools were available to study the disease and potentially create a cure."

"You seem quite sure of yourself."

"It was on Shinra's orders that the patients were brought somewhere safe. They're being treated with the utmost care. I am sure of that," Charlie says, getting somewhat short with her. "I was the one who had been caring for them."

"Shinra's orders?" Elmyra repeats in a low whisper, giving an exasperated and breathy chuckle that doesn't seem to fit the situation. "Or your orders?"

Charlie doesn't answer right away. She doesn't want to tell Elmyra the truth about her brother, but she doesn't want to give the impression that Shinra has dissolved completely, especially with her not intending to return to Cliff Resort. "I have decided to step down from my position as president within the company. With no heir of my own, and no surviving family, I would be lying if I said I knew what was going to become of the Turks now."

"Surely serve whoever decides to fill your father's shoes," Elmyra responds bitterly. "The cycle will be repeated, I'm sure."

"The Turks are loyal to me, to my father's kin, and always will be," Charlie cuts in, "not to whatever moron thinks he can continue my father's legacy."

Elmyra smiles weakly, inclining her head. "That's good to hear." She sighs, causing Charlie to soften suddenly at this sudden change in tone. "To be honest, Miss Shinra, I feel as if I could use some help."

"Of course. Anything."

Hesitating, Elmyra stands and beckons Charlie to follow with the crook of her index finger. Charlie follows her into the dim sitting room, being led right up to a window. The blinds are dark and refuse any light, but when Elmyra spreads them slightly apart to peer outside, the sun shines brightly on Charlie's face.

"You see them all," Elmyra whispers, as if they're all listening. "I lived in the Sector Five slums for a long time. I know danger when I see it. All of these refugees are from Midgar, and many of them are nothing but criminals, mostly out of a desire to survive. Look for yourself."

Charlie puts her eye in front of the blinds, looking at the crowded street outside.

There are some families, to be sure, with small children who are dirty and underfed, hollow-cheeked and wide-eyed. And there are others who have chosen to come alone, eyes constantly flicking from one thing to the next. It would be difficult to distinguish one person from the other in the dead of night, with all of their dirty faces and unwashed hair and graying clothes.

"I've heard of so many homes being broken into lately," Elmyra confesses as Charlie pulls her eye away from the window. "Sometimes I think I hear someone trying to get in at night."

"Have you been in contact with the Turks around here? I think Freyra and Juget are in the area. I'll let them know to keep an eye on the house from now on."

Elmyra looks very visibly relieved at that suggestion. "I would appreciate that." As if reverting suddenly to her old self, she straightens and smiles. "Are you hungry, Charlie? Would you like something to eat?"

"Oh, yes, please. Thank you very much."

Elmyra makes a savory and filling late lunch, and confesses that the reason she's able to buy so much fresh food is because Reeve has been graciously sending her enough money to live very comfortably. This makes Charlie smile.

"Have you been to see him in Junon?" Elmyra asks innocently, turning the stove off.

"No, he visited me once, but . . . well, I plan on heading to Junon eventually. I just had to make a few stops first."

"Where?"

"Well, Edge was first. I saw Cloud and Tifa and helped them build a new bar, and then I came here, to see you and check-in on the city." Charlie shrugs casually. "I was thinking of stopping at Corel next, to see Barret and to see if there's anything I might do for the town."

Elmyra hums.

"What?"

"Nothing," the older woman says quickly. "I think it's a good journey for you."

Charlie's eyebrows furrow together. "I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that."

A loud sigh escapes Elmyra's lips as her eyes lower to her cup of tea, cupped between fragile hands. There seems to be a lot of sighing in this house lately. When next she speaks, it's quietly, intimately, a private confession. "When I first met you, I hated you."

Charlie falters. That's not the impression that she got from her first meeting with Elmyra, the morning after leaving Midgar for good. Elmyra had been kind and courteous, had served her food and drink, had allowed her a place to sleep.

"Ever since I found Aerith as a little girl, Shinra has been a dark cloud over our heads . . ." Elmyra continues, closing her eyes. The way she speaks Aerith's name makes Charlie want to cry. "I couldn't believe the way you spoke of those Turks sometimes . . . a stark reminder that we had lived very different lives. You were nothing but a privileged brat, no matter how fondly Reeve spoke of you . . . because underneath it all, he was the same . . . how could he know what it was like for us . . ."

She won't argue against it. Charlie isn't stupid enough to try and defend herself. Everything Elmyra is saying is absolutely true, but now isn't the time to rub that privilege in a grieving woman's face. Lunch still sits plated on the table in front of them, fresh fruit and cooked vegetables growing room temperature while they both refuse to eat.

"Shinra has taken everything from me . . ." Elmyra says mournfully, holding her face in her hands for a moment. "My husband . . . my home . . . my . . . my daughter . . ."

Charlie averts her eyes, feeling out of breath. At least Elmyra will never know what it looked like to see Sephiroth slide his sword (no . . . but it hadn't really been Sephiroth, had it . . . ?) through the poor flower girl's shoulder blades, as cleanly as he had slid his sword through President Shinra's.

"And though you denied complicity and insisted you were different . . . how could you ever be completely innocent? You were born complicit," Elmyra finally continues, looking Charlie in the eyes now. "As much a victim of unfortunate circumstances as the rest of us."

Charlie silently agrees. She can't remember a time where she wasn't weaved together with Shinra's shady politics, especially with the Turks being so wholly involved in her life from the beginning.

"Seeing you stand in the doorway to this kitchen, I saw you as nothing but a symbol for everything I've hated most in this world, but . . . the more time you spent here . . . I realized that you were only a girl . . . a child . . . and I found it difficult to believe you to be capable of such horrendous evil, and the blood on your hands was no different from the blood that stains Marlene's father's . . . the blood that stains Reeve's . . ."

"What are you saying?" Charlie whispers, finding it increasingly difficult to hear Elmyra speak this way about her. "I did everything I could. I tried. What do you want me to say? That I should have died instead? That I deserved death because of the family I was born into?"

"No," Elmyra replies quickly, but just as gently. "I think you're very brave. I think you're braver than most of us."

"I . . ." Charlie doesn't know what to say to that. It makes a lump form in her throat. "I don't know about that."

"When Shinra took my daughter, I did nothing. I wanted to wait, convinced they would let her go when they got the answers they wanted. I wanted to believe they would give her back. I begged Cloud and his friends not to save her, but . . ." A few tears begin to slip down Elmyra's cheeks. "I did nothing. I sat and waited. I allowed Reeve to move us into hiding, while you . . . a Shinra . . . fought alongside them against your own family . . ."

"There was nothing more you could have done, Elmyra. You protected Marlene, which was no simple feat, I'm sure."

Elmyra is quiet for a little while, sipping at her tea. Charlie mimics her, but can hardly taste her drink. Her appetite is gone, the food no longer looking at all appetizing to her. "If you were as like-minded as your brother and father . . . you wouldn't be here, would you? You wouldn't be making this journey, would you?"

"I suppose not." It's the truth. Charlie can't imagine Rufus gearing up to check-in on his friends (what friends?) after a disaster. He wouldn't have been personally caring for the diseased. He wouldn't have dug a grave for a poor boy who requested one. He wouldn't have offered medicine to strangers, or helped old friends rebuild their home, or left money with rebels.

"I spent so long telling myself that it was you who was wrong. That you were nothing more than some entitled heiress, who would eventually help to maintain the cycle of death and destruction, taking everything from me in one fell swoop when you saw me at my most vulnerable."

"I would never do that."

"I know you wouldn't. You're a hero, Charlie."

Charlie can't answer. If she opens her mouth, it will be to sob. She can't let Elmyra see her like that, but it's hard to swallow those cries. No one has ever called her a hero before, not seriously, anyway.

Elmyra toys with the food on her plate, but doesn't eat. "What do you intend to happen with this pilgrimage of yours?"

Charlie blinks back tears. Elmyra lets her tears continue to flow freely. "I just . . . I want to atone. I want to be someone. But if I want to be someone, I need to learn how."

"But don't you already know what it's like?" Elmyra asks, and Charlie is surprised at how quickly her tone changes, how maternal and warm she sounds all of a sudden. The real Elmyra is truly buried beneath the aged and stressed exterior. "Have you loved so hard that it causes you to ache? Have you dreamt? Have you lost and suffered and grieved?"

She doesn't know what to say. Of course she's felt those things before, but perhaps she had never put it into perspective. How many people had thought her nothing but a mindless puppet, unable to feel empathy or sympathy or true love or friendship? Had it all been an act? No, of course not . . . she had loved Reeve (she still loves him) and she had loved Rufus, and Tseng, and Veld, and Cid, and all of the friends she had made on her tortuous journey across the world.

"Have you slept beneath the shade of a tall oak tree, or felt the grass beneath your feet? Have you felt the rain on your face or laughed to the sky?"

It's like Bugenhagen said. Perhaps we are all the same, after all. She can't help but wonder, is there anything unique about anyone, or do they all live the same lives, feel the same things? Everyone will eventually die and become the planet beneath the next generation's feet, and everyone will eventually become forgotten after many long years.

"You need to be gentle with yourself, Charlie. You need to forgive yourself. This is a new world we are living in, post-Meteor, and you have no obligation to carry with you the burdens of the previous world."

"If someone has to atone for Shinra's sins, shouldn't it be me, though?"

"When does it end? When will you feel that atonement has finally been achieved?"

Charlie stammers, unsure how to answer truthfully. "I don't know."

"I have heard rumors about what's going on in Junon . . ." Elmyra smiles sweetly behind her tea cup. "It seems that Reeve has his own idea of atonement." Her eyes flick down to the bag at Charlie's side. "What have you brought with you for your journey?"

Charlie has completely forgotten about the bag, not ready to change subjects so rapidly. She picks it up and unzippers it, showing Elmyra the contents. Reaching in with one hand, she begins setting the contents upon the table, pushing her plate aside: crumpled money and loose coins, and the packs of medicine she had brought with her.

"You can have the money if you want," she says, noticing Elmyra's eyes go slightly wide. It is a lot of money, especially given the current state of the world's economy. "And there's medicine to treat the disease."

"A cure?" Elmyra gasps softly.

"Not quite, but the first step towards one. That's one thing we had been working on while in hiding. There's more, but this was all I could carry."

Elmyra touches the medicine with the tips of her fingers, just barely. There isn't enough here to treat everyone she comes into contact with, but it's enough to make a difference. Finally, she asks, "Why haven't you gone to Junon?"

Charlie bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth for a moment. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That I won't be well-received. That I won't be wanted."

"You'll never know for certain if you don't go." Elmyra sighs, putting her hands back into her lap. "If you could do anything right now, what would you want to do?"

Charlie smiles, exasperated. The conversation has left her exhausted. "I wish I could talk to my mother."

"Where is she?"

"Dead," she replies, seeing the sorrow in Elmyra's eyes. They both know grief and loss. They're the same. "I saw her grave when we visited Cosmo Canyon. I didn't even know that's where she was all this time, but I was able to kneel at her grave for a little." Charlie props her head up with her knuckles, frowning down at the table full of money and medicine. "I want to see Reeve."

"Then go."

"But I have all this medicine to give. I have to go to Corel and . . . and . . . I . . ."

"And do what?" Elmyra stands, gathering the medicine into a singular pile. "Barret will be back. And when he comes, I will give him what he needs." She smiles. "You've just traveled the entire world. You've fought hard and well . . . you've been hidden away, caring for the sick and injured . . . isn't it time that you settle down and rest for a little?"

Charlie has to admit, her argument is far more convincing than Tseng's. Tseng had wanted her to go to Reeve so he would know where she was, so he knew someone was taking care of her. It wasn't like she had a choice, and it felt like Tseng was forcing her hands behind her back, marching her to Junon so she could be kept an eye on.

"Not hungry, are you?" Elmyra glances down at their untouched plates. "No worries. We can save it for dinner. You're staying the night, aren't you?"

She hadn't planned on it. "If you'll have me. Just one night wouldn't hurt, I suppose."

"I'll tell you what." She flashes another warm smile at Charlie, brushing off the front of her apron before removing it from around her neck. "Why don't we go upstairs and I can fix your hair? It wouldn't do for a beautiful woman such as yourself to arrive in Junon without a fresh trim."

Charlie blushes, reaching for the ends of her choppy hair. She's glad everyone she's come into contact with has had the tact not to mention her sloppy haircut. "Okay," is all she can think to say.

"And maybe you could tell me some more about yourself while we do it. I fear the only things I know about you are the things I've seen printed or that have come from Reeve himself."

Charlie obliges. She sits down on the edge of the bathtub in the bathroom and allows Elmyra to wash and comb through her hair, parting it off to the side and comparing the length. It reminds her of faint memories she holds onto of her mother, who used to cut her hair before she was old enough to sit still long enough for a professional to do it.

"Your hair grows so quickly," her mother would say, and Rufus would wait patiently for his turn, and he would squirm and struggle the entire time until their father threatened him with a smack on the bottom if he didn't sit still.

Elmyra asks gentle questions, presumably testing the waters to see what Charlie will allow her to ask, but Charlie doesn't mind answering whatever questions she has, and doesn't mind answering them truthfully.

She asks about Charlie's mother, and what happened in the months leading up to her parents' separation. She asks about the Turks that watched over her in her youth, and if she had a favorite, and if she had a least favorite, and what did she like to do for fun and did she enjoy school and was Rufus the same, or did they share too many differences to get along well?

And after a while of that, Elmyra moves onto bigger, more complicated questions. Questions that it takes Charlie a while to answer, because there's much to go over and too much context to explain. She tells Elmyra about Angeal and Cid and how she and Reeve met and what brought them together, explaining the circumstances surrounding the rocket and how her father had reacted to her failure, and what she later learned from Rufus about the sabotaged launch and how she had hated hated hated him when he admitted to it.

And then the questions become more focused on her journey with Cloud and the others: what made you leave your family? did you know any of them prior to joining them? what stops did you make and which town struck you as most beautiful? what was the hardest part of traveling with them and what did you find was easier than previously imagined? how did it feel to be aboard your own rocket when it was thrust into space and would you do it all over again and what would you do differently?

Through all of this talking, Charlie doesn't even realize that Elmyra finishes trimming her hair after only a few minutes. She's so engrossed by the conversation, feeling the weight and pressure slowly lift off her shoulders with each word that leaves her mouth, all of these bottled up emotions leaving her feeling light and manic, wanting to tell Elmyra everything. She even describes the feelings that came with believing Tseng was dying before her very eyes, and how it had been more difficult to stomach than seeing her father die so brutally.

Until Elmyra asks a question that gives Charlie pause, and that makes her think very carefully about how to answer.

"You loved him? Tseng?"

Charlie hesitates. Surely Elmyra and Aerith were only shown the worst sides of Tseng, cold and calculating and professional. "I loved him in a way I've never loved anyone," she admits softly, "he was my brother. He was my family in a way Rufus never was."

It makes her miss him, and it makes her begin to second guess her decision to leave. Tseng and Rufus are likely plotting together right now . . . do they miss me? Do they think of me? Do they talk about me?

"Do you think that makes me a bad person?" Charlie lowers her eyes, remembering what Tseng had confided in her the first night they had arrived at the resort. "No . . . Tseng was a victim of the company, just like me . . . it's not his fault he chose survival . . . it's not our fault that . . ."

"Some people are forced to do terrible things in order to survive," Elmyra answers, taking Charlie's hand in hers.

"I'm sorry," Charlie says, as Elmyra opens her mouth to keep speaking. She looks into the older woman's eyes, wondering if Aerith is listening from beyond the grave, if her soul is still alive at all within the Lifestream. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the pain my father's company caused you, and I'm sorry that nothing I did was enough to save your daughter. I am sorry, but I promise I'll do everything I can to make it right."

"Charlotte . . ." Elmyra shakes her head slightly, squeezing Charlie's hand. "I forgive you."


It's easy to hide in dirty clothes and with her hair hidden beneath a hat. She fits right in with the refugees, and finds her way later that afternoon to the house where Rufus had been staying temporarily, where Reeve had taken her to reunite her with Veld.

Freyra and Juget have already begun drinking from a bottle of wine that had been left behind, surprised to find Charlie there.

It's funny to see the two Turks side-by-side, so different in looks. While Freyra is friendly and short and blonde and full of curves, Juget is tall and willowy with dark hair and a mean look to her face. For as long as Charlie can remember, the two have always been nearly inseparable, with Freyra always whispering into Juget's ear about the latest gossip around Headquarters.

"You shouldn't have come here alone," Juget scolds her, though the alcohol has softened her somewhat and made her voice more gentle. "And you shouldn't have walked here. It's dangerous on the streets now."

"No one recognized me," Charlie says, removing her hat and letting her freshly trimmed hair fall out. She gives her head a shake. "I came to see Elmyra."

"We know," Freyra tells her with a small smile. "Tseng told us you might find your way to Kalm sooner or later."

Charlie exhales quietly, unsure whether or not to be angry with Tseng for still keeping tabs on her, but she's certain that he only meant well, wanting to keep anything from happening to her. "So he's told you everything, then?"

"Just about. He said it was important that we minded our business."

Juget snorts, standing from her place on the floor in front of a coffee table and retrieving an empty wine glass from the liquor cabinet. "Care for a drink, Charlie?"

"A drink would be great," she admits, feeling relieved that she isn't being served more tea. "It's been a long few days. It's been a long few months, actually."

Charlie sits on the floor beside Juget. Freyra stretches her legs from her position on the sofa, setting her feet down on the table with a hearty thud! "You can say that again," Freyra says, as if they're only discussing a bad day at work. "We've been so bored here."

"Elmyra says it sounds as if someone has been trying to break into the house," Charlie reminds them, the main reason she had come to speak with the Turks.

"If anyone breaks into that house, they won't live long enough to come out of it." Juget shrugs, looking arrogant. "Tseng made protecting Elmyra a top priority."

"That's good to hear."

"What else brings you here, Miss Shinra?" Freyra asks, her cheeks slightly flushed from the wine.

"You can call me Charlie. You can call me whatever you want now." Charlie takes a sip. The wine tastes as if it's gone bad, but it could just be low-quality wine to begin with. She knows Freyra and Juget will drink anything within reach, anything they can get their hands on. "I feel sorry for her. Elmyra. She's very alone now."

"So are you, it seems," Juget remarks, glancing around the sitting room. "No travel companion?"

"Like who?"

"Dunno." Juget smirks, finishing her glass of wine. "Thought maybe you'd have that old Turk with you. The one you found underground and in a coffin."

"Veld vouches for him," Freyra reminds her friend. "He's been through a lot." Gasping, she suddenly turns to Charlie with a bright look upon her face. "I heard that the Director—er, I mean, the Commissioner—is thinking about building an airship in Junon."

Charlie drinks. "Yes, I heard that, as well."

"I don't know how he's going to do it without mako. It's like the world's been thrown back into the Dark Ages, honestly. Last I heard, they were looking into oil . . . I think the Director—sorry, the Commissioner—had mentioned some contacts in the Corel area that were going to start digging sooner or later."

"Reeve told you all of this?" Charlie asks, blushing and partially offended that Reeve would tell Freyra company plans.

"Well . . . not exactly . . ." Freyra shrinks back into the sofa, smiling nervously and flushing in earnest now.

"She was eavesdropping," Juget explains bluntly.

"Not eavesdropping! Not really." The Turk only seems to grow more embarrassed by the second, but thankfully continues without much fear of repercussion. "It was when I came back to Cliffside for a day or two, to restock. The Commissioner was there and he was talking to Tseng in the office and the door was cracked, so I could hear their entire conversation, and what was I supposed to do? It was dead boring up there anyway, I needed some entertainment, something to dwell on for a little bit, right?"

"I told you, she was eavesdropping."

"Fine!" Freyra throws her hands up in defeat. "I was eavesdropping! Happy?" Recovering gracefully, she sighs. "Anyway, it sounds like it would be fun, wouldn't it, Charlie? I'm surprised he didn't ask you for help."

"He did," Charlie replies, remembering the blissful few days that she had Reeve had spent together, holed up in the mountainside resort with hardly anyone to bother them but dying patients and some nosy Turks. It was the closest to normal she had felt for months. "But at the time . . . well, I just couldn't spare the time, you know?"

Freyra and Juget are quiet for a moment. They exchange an almost knowing look. "We're sorry about your brother, Charlie," Freyra says again, as Juget lowers her eyes. "But if it's any consolation, Tseng says the President is feeling better everyday."

"You know, Veld's in Junon," Juget adds quickly.

"With his daughter," Charlie finishes, regretting her bitter tone.

Another moment of silence. Freyra is the one to break it again. "I know what you're thinking, Charlie."

"What do you mean?"

Freyra sighs heavily, putting her feet back on the floor and sitting up straight. "You think that Veld only cared about you because he thought his daughter was dead, but it's not true. He cared about you because that's just the kind of person he is."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Charlie mumbles, drinking the rest of her wine. It feels warm in her stomach.

"Don't give us that bullshit," Juget retorts hotly, eyebrows raised to her hairline. Charlie scoffs and raises her eyes, lowering her glass. "We know Veld just as well as you do. He took all of us in, all of us that had nowhere else to go. He took us all in and made us a family, not because he thought his daughter was dead, but because he cared about us. And there was a time when you were part of that family, as well."

"I . . ." Charlie shifts uncomfortably upon the floor, blushing. "I didn't realize you felt that way."

"You and Tseng were always special to him," Freyra says, though she doesn't sound bitter about it. In fact, there's a sweet smile on her face, one that is fond and friendly and comforting. "You discredit him by assuming his motivation for loving you was built upon his presumably dead daughter."

Charlie is quiet for a moment, trying to process this. There's a lump in her throat that she's unable to swallow. Her eyes begin to sting, her vision blurring. She stares at the empty wine glass on the table, looking at her distorted reflection. "Then why does it hurt so much?" she rasps.

"To feel hurt is to be human, Charlie," Freyra answers kindly. "It'll pass."

"You should go see him. You and Tseng," Juget suggests. "Veld would be really pleased."

Charlie sighs. She runs a hand through her hair. "I planned on going to Corel."

"For what?" Juget snorts. "There's nothing there for you."

"Well . . . Barret is there, and I have money and medicine that might be useful."

"Then delegate it to your trusty Turks," Juget replies, leaning back on both hands. "You've done enough, Charlie. You don't owe these people anything more than what you've done. What have they ever done for you that you need to prove yourself?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't know how.

"Look, give us the stuff you've got. We'll make sure it gets to Corel and wherever else you want one way or another, all right? Your friend will understand, I'm sure."

Charlie looks at Freyra, who nods in agreement. They seem far too casual about this, far too sure of themselves. Is it possible that Charlie's wish for atonement through some sort of self-righteous pilgrimage is too far-fetched? Is it possible that it's worthless? When will the cycle end? At what point would she find it appropriate to forgive herself and let go of her past with Shinra?

But she's so tired, and all she wants to do is rest. She wants to sleep in a bed where she feels safe. She wants to stop feeling like all she's doing is running. Sometimes it feels as if leaving Cliffside had been a mistake. Sometimes all she wants to do is come back. She had been safe there . . . but she had been sad, too.

"I'll come see you before I leave tomorrow morning," she finally says, getting to her feet.

"If you skip town without saying good-bye, we'll find you," Juget promises her, but Charlie has no intention of running away in the dead of night this time. "And we always know where to find you."


"What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"Thinking."

"A most dangerous pastime. Where are you?"

Charlie chuckles lightly. "Wouldn't you like to know." She looks around the darkened room, the same bedroom she had shared with Reeve when they were temporarily staying with Elmyra. It seems like a lifetime ago. "I'm in Kalm."

"I'm just glad to hear you're all right."

"How is Rufus?"

Tseng hesitates. "The medicine helps him. It keeps him levelheaded. He sleeps a lot, but he's better than he was."

It's encouraging to know Rufus is still alive, but she knows that Tseng is likely hiding many things from her about her brother's health. "I have a favor to ask you. There's someone I'd like to see, but I'll only go if you come with me. Can you spare the time off work?"

"There's only one person I believe you'd be meeting if you wanted me involved."

This makes her smile. "Meet me in Junon."