Rufus is sitting on the balcony, slumped slightly in his wheelchair, looking out at the grounds in silence. Bandages cover the diseased and blackened part of his neck and his hands, the rest of him dressed in clothing far more casual than Tseng is used to seeing him in.

"Sir," he says softly, stepping out into the sunshine. Summer is just around the corner, and he perspires slightly underneath his suit. He adjusts the starched collar of his shirt, giving himself some breathing room.

"Yes?" Rufus's voice is soft and weakened.

For the most part, the resort is quiet. Most of Kilmister's patients have died off by now, and all the healthy residents who remain seem to keep their voices to hushed whispers, like speaking too loudly will kill the rest of them.

"I have somewhere to be for a day or so," Tseng tells him, stepping up to Rufus's side so he isn't forced to turn in his wheelchair to have a conversation. "I'll be leaving shortly, but the others will remain here. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

Rufus looks up at him, blue eyes blazing bright in the sunlight. The corners of his lips are slightly turned upwards. "You're going to see my sister, aren't you?"

Tseng pauses, choosing his words carefully, but Rufus has already figured him out and there's nothing left to hide.

"She said something to me," he continues, closing his eyes. "It was when she was being held in Junon, shortly after you were reported killed-in-action."

Tseng's eyes must burn holes in the side of Rufus's head.

"She was drunk, barely able to sit in her chair or feed herself. I made the foolish assumption that she would want to talk about it . . . about you. So I asked." Rufus doesn't move. Tseng isn't certain that he's able to. "I remember the way she looked at me with such hatred in her eyes. I remember her telling me that you had been a better brother to her than I ever had."

A soft exhale leaves Tseng. The sentiment is flattering. At the small noise he makes, Rufus turns his head to look up into Tseng's face.

"She said it to spite me, I'm sure. Do you know what I did afterwards?"

He isn't certain he wants to know.

"I hit her. I hit her hard. And she fought back the entire time." Rufus lowers his eyes. There is shame written all over his face. There is no hiding it. "I was angry. Angry with the truth of her words, angry with myself, and angry with you. Even as I was hurting her, I couldn't help but think . . . you would never have done such a thing. You've never so much as laid a finger on my sweet sister, have you?"

While it's not entirely true, Tseng has never intentionally hurt Charlotte. "Only when necessary."

"I once thought the two of you would marry, did you know?"

This makes Tseng chuckle. "I assure you, I harbor no romantic feelings for your sister, and I don't think the idea would be well-received by Charlotte, either."

Rufus only hums in response.

"I'll return the moment I am able, Mr. President."

The president's face hardens, but he does not look cruel. Instead, he looks stoic and thoughtful, handsome features carved as if from marble and unflinching. Tseng knows that his refusal to call Rufus by his given name, unlike Charlotte, likely has rubbed him the wrong way or made him think.

"Would you like for me to pass on a message, sir?"

Rufus continues to think. He slowly raises one of his hands, a long finger touching his chin. Only the fingernail is visible, clean and manicured, despite his condition.

"No," is his answer, "I don't think she would want to hear from me anyway."


"This is it?"

Tseng nods, a small smile making its way onto his face as he lifts a hand to knock upon the apartment door, the interior of the complex shabby and falling into disrepair. "Expecting something a little more grand?"

"Now that I think about it, I suppose he fits right in here," she replies, heart fluttering as Tseng raps three times upon the door with a crooked 4 hanging just under the peephole. "Are you sure he's home?"

Just as she asks the question, the door opens slowly, but it's not Veld standing on the other side of it.

Charlie blinks stupidly at the girl, likely no older than she is, with short and choppy brown hair that falls into and frames her narrow face. There's something tired about her, a general exhaustion—bags under her lifeless blue eyes, lips partially opened, blinking slowly as if it takes her a moment to comprehend what she's saying. She's a small and skinny girl with hardly any muscle mass, her clothes baggy around her frame.

"I know you," she says quietly after looking them both up and down, her voice hardly more than a rasp.

"It's good to see you again," Tseng answers, nodding his head in greeting before adding, "Felicia."


He can sense Charlotte's obvious discomfort, the two of them seated side-by-side on the sofa, her eyes lowered to her lap.

Felicia serves them all tea around a round wooden table that seems to take up too much space within the already-cramped apartment. Despite its size, however, Tseng finds that it's clean and organized in a cluttered sort of way, attributing what little mess there is to Veld's penchant for hoarding particularly useless things that might become useful in ten odd years or so.

Veld doesn't seem to notice anything is off—or rather, if he does, he doesn't bring any attention to it. Surely his talent for reading people hasn't suddenly disappeared.

"I'm glad you were finally able to meet Felicia, Charlie," he says with a thankful smile as his daughter fills his own cup. With a loud and contented sigh, Veld continues. "To be honest, this is a very welcome surprise. I didn't think the two of you would think to visit together. Last I heard, you two were traveling separately."

Tseng waits to see if Charlotte will speak first. He has to admit, it's odd to hear Veld address her by her real name instead of some cutesy little nickname like little princess. He's sure that Charlotte has taken note of that, as well.

"I had business to attend to in Junon," Tseng lies dutifully. "It was pure coincidence that we found each other again."

Veld meets his eyes for a split second, likely determining whether or not he's telling the truth. "Regardless, I'm glad you stopped by. I'm sure your business was very important. It means a lot to an old man like me." He leans back in his armchair, looking comfortable and very much at home. "Me and Felicia have just been taking things one day at a time, you know? Sometimes I help out with the WRO where I can . . . mostly with construction. This prosthetic of mine sure comes in handy with the heavier stuff, and it's been long enough that no one really knows who I am anymore."

He's talking to fill the silence. Tseng glances sideways at Charlotte, who still hasn't moved.

"Have either of you seen Edge lately? I haven't been since construction first started. Was thinking of making a trip to see it for myself sooner or later."

"It's no Midgar," Tseng replies, "but it might be a contender in a few years' time. Though the disease runs rampant there still, and there's a severe lack of reputable doctors or clinics to care for them."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"There's still time for doctors to make a name there."

"Junon has held up well," Veld says, almost sounding proud. "The people have really come together, and Reeve has done good work with the WRO. People trust him, and the amount of people flocking to become volunteers is astounding. Suppose everyone needs a paying job these days."

There's a moment of silence in which everyone drinks their tea except for Charlotte. Tseng even reaches over her to the tea tray to place some sugar into her own cup, hoping that will coerce her to try it, but she hardly seems to notice.

"So . . ." Veld looks right at the top of Charlotte's head. "I've been hearing some funny rumors, kiddo. Word is that you've officially retired from Shinra Incorporated."

Charlotte looks up as if she's only just realized there are other people around them. She looks to Tseng for guidance, but he only gives her a reassuring nod. Felicia seems very interested in Charlotte's answer, as well.

"There was really no position to step down from anymore," Charlotte says with a modest and embarrassed smile. She has a hard time fixing her eyes on a certain point for more than a second or two. "I've been taking some time for myself."

"She's had a very eventful year, you know," Veld tells his daughter, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. "You'd like this, Felicia. For a little while, she was traveling the world with AVALANCHE. Or rather . . . the remnants of it. Out to get Sephiroth, they were."

"Tell them of your rocket, Charlotte," Tseng prompts her, hoping that speaking about her love affair with outer space might encourage her to be more at ease. "You accomplished something truly amazing, and should be proud. Surely the both of you remember the rocket she had worked so tirelessly on, Shinra No. 26?"

"It launched," she answers, and Tseng begins to grow frustrated with her lack of enthusiasm or speech. "It was part of our mission to retrieve the Huge Materia that Shinra hoped to use against Meteor. I was on the rocket when it launched. It was very . . . liberating."

"Are you interested in outer space?"

It's the first time Felicia has spoken, but as she has always been a girl of few words—as long as Tseng has known her—it isn't quite as awkward. However, it is interesting to him that this is the first question she chooses to ask.

Charlotte hesitates, looking at Tseng again. This time, he smiles at her. "I used to be," she answers politely. "I don't think I would really consider it a priority anymore."

"Have you ever been to Cosmo Canyon?"

He can tell that Charlotte is struggling with continuing conversation. She's never been good at making conversation with women, especially those she sees as a threat, but he gives her credit for trying. She looks around the room frantically, like she's searching for an exit.

"Twice," she finally answers. "Very briefly. Both times we had met with Bugenhagen, who happened to have close ties with a friend of ours. I mean . . . a friend of AVALANCHE's."

"I . . . don't know if this will come as a surprise to you or not," Felicia explains nervously, wringing her hands in her lap, "but . . . well . . . it will take a little bit of explaining, and I . . . I still don't remember it all very clearly, but I spent some years there, you know, recovering from . . . an accident."

Charlotte's face drains of color. She sucks in a deep breath and doesn't seem to breathe at all for a few moments. The hands in her lap grasp onto the fabric of her shorts, white-knuckled and trembling.

"My recovery was . . . long, you see. I needed help with many things before I could do them again . . . walking was difficult for a time . . . I needed to be bathed . . . sometimes I needed help eating . . . my memory was gone, I was given the name 'Elfe', and I remembered so very little . . ."

Charlotte's breath is shaky. If he was not in a room with the two people he trusted most, he would not do it, but Tseng moves his hand slowly to cover one of Charlotte's, and he can feel the tension leave her body at his touch. For a brief moment, he wonders what Rufus might think, seeing that Charlotte does not flinch away from his touch as she might her brother's.

"I grew very close to one of the women who helped during my recovery . . ." Felicia's cheeks turn pink, and she begins to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "She often said that I reminded her of someone she knew from back home, though . . . at the time, I had no idea what she meant, or where she had come from . . . only that she had left behind two children, a daughter and a son."

Veld turns his gaze from his daughter to Charlotte, looking slightly misty-eyed. Charlotte squeezes Tseng's hand.

"Of her son, I knew very little. She admitted that he was still very young when she left, and not as attached to her as the daughter." Felicia offers a smile, the first that Tseng has ever seen from her. "But of her daughter, she spoke such wonderful things. She said that her daughter shared her passion for the stars and for outer space . . . for the unknown. It was always her hope that, one day, her daughter might arrive at Cosmo Canyon, as well."

Charlotte's eyes well up with tears. She tries to blink them back rapidly.

"AVALANCHE was born in Cosmo Canyon, did you know?"

Charlotte nods.

"It was her who told me about their goals and encouraged me to join. The Shinra company had taken everything from her, she said. She would join herself if she was a fighter, she told me . . . but I was enhanced to be a fighter, so I promised that I would join on her behalf . . . and as soon as I was able to walk on my own, I did." Felicia pauses for a moment, looking happy to reminisce. "When AVALANCHE's leader died some months later, I was elected to lead them. It was then that she came to me once more, the night after I was chosen, with a box of things she wanted to show me."

The silence is pressing. Tseng can't deny that he's captivated by Felicia's story, as well, hanging on her every word.

"She told me that she trusted me . . . trusted me to do what was right. Before she showed me what was inside the box, she told me that she wanted me to know who it was she would be fighting for.

"This woman told me her real name that night, in the privacy of my bedroom, knowing that I could have killed her with nothing but my left hand. Bugenhagen was the only one who really knew who she was . . . or, at least, that's what she told me.

"She laid out photographs of her children, children who would eventually grow up to inherit the company she wished to destroy . . . newspaper clippings and magazine covers . . . tabloid articles . . . everything relating to her children was in that box," Felicia sighs, as if the memory is painful. "She begged me to spare her children, to bring them back to her . . . all she wanted was to see them one last time . . ."

Charlotte cries silently beside him, never releasing his hand.

"When I last saw her, her memory was beginning to go . . . there were moments when she was alert, like her usual self, but . . . there were lapses, and often she was bedridden . . . something affecting her limbs, hardly able to speak . . ." Felicia straightens up. "I remember, when I visited her in bed that last night, I thought she had been suffering from one of those lapses . . . when I sat down beside her, she took my hand and called me 'Felicia' . . . it was the only thing she said, and I . . . I thought . . . perhaps she had mistaken me for someone else. I thought nothing of it, and I was never able to return after that."

Charlotte pulls her hand from Tseng's, burying her face in her palms to weep softly. Veld gives him a box of tissues, and Tseng touches the back of her hair gently, unable to deny that Felicia's story is touching.

"If you have been to Cosmo Canyon, then you must know what happened to her." Felicia sounds almost desperate, and Tseng remembers the several times he had heard Charlotte's own desperation in her search to find the truth of what happened to Veld. "Please, Charlie, I wouldn't ask if it weren't important to me. Your mother was so good to me . . . so kind and patient and caring . . . she supported us, AVALANCHE . . . so I must know . . ."

Charlotte lowers her hand, accepting a tissue from Tseng and blotting her puffy eyes. "My mother . . . she died," she responds with a shaky voice. "She died nearly two years ago now. I visited her grave myself, atop one of the highest cliffs in Cosmo Canyon."

"Oh." Felicia's face falls. "I'm so sorry to hear that. And I . . . I'm sorry that you were not able to see her again, but . . . she's at peace now, and part of the Planet. I am sure that she's watching us speak even now. You'll see her again one day, when it's your turn to return to the Lifestream."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Charlotte says suddenly, and both Tseng and Veld narrow their eyes at her, slightly anxious about what she's going to say next. "While your father was caring for me, my mother was caring for you?"

At this, Felicia smiles. It's bright and unusual from such a grim-looking girl (she gets it from Veld, he can't help but think), but it makes Charlotte smile through her own tears, as well. "I'd like to hear more about your time with AVALANCHE, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Charlotte answers, thankfully snapping out of her sullen mood. "What would you like to know?"


"So . . . what business has really brought you to Junon?"

Tseng chuckles sardonically, wiping down the first rinsed dish that Veld hands him. He dries it off quickly with a towel, reminded of days long gone when they had been their own dysfunctional family. It hardly seems right without Charlotte throwing some kind of tantrum after being asked to clean up after herself.

Instead, she and Felicia continue to chat at the table, detailing significant moments of their lives, reminiscing over Veld and Charlotte's mother, giggling in hushed voices like little girls. It all seems so silly and nostalgic and sentimental, and it makes Tseng slightly disappointed with the knowledge that he'll have to leave everyone to return to Cliff Resort, where the dying are waiting for him.

"I see how it is," Veld continues after Tseng fails to give him an answer. "You're a proficient liar, but not good enough to fool me."

"I wasn't attempting to fool anyone."

"This meant a lot to me, son," Veld says quietly, in a gruff voice that makes it seem like he's not on the verge of tears. Tseng feels a lump form in his own throat at the sound of the nickname. "You and Charlotte, coming here . . . makes me feel like I've got all my kids together again."

"It was important to her that I be with her for this," Tseng remarks, trying to sound as professional as possible. Even years later, he's still slightly intimidated by his former supervisor. "You asked me a favor, and I have no intention of going back on my word."

"I see . . . so it's out of obligation that you care for the girl?"

Tseng scoffs, offended by the assumption, but when he looks up from the glass in his hands to meet Veld's eyes, it's to find Veld smiling. He's quiet for a moment, ensuring that Charlotte and Felicia are still talking before lowering his voice. "I told her . . . about Zhen."

Veld's ear's seem to perk up at this. He raises his eyebrows. "All those years ago . . . we were all missing someone, weren't we?"

Tseng continues drying the dishes, albeit slower. Zhen and his old family are a distant memory now, half-forgotten after all that has happened. He doesn't think of them anymore unless forced to. Once he had exacted his revenge, he found himself at peace with their deaths. He found it easier to let go.

But Charlotte . . . Charlotte who had told him she loved him, who had told him he was her family, who had told Rufus that he was a better brother, who had spent countless days and nights under a roof with him, who had eaten dinner at a table with him, who had laughed with him, joked with him, sought him out for comfort . . .

Why didn't he appreciate the time the three of them had spent together while they were spending time together? Why had he always been in such a rush to leave? Why hadn't he prioritized them more?

He didn't think it would be so hard to let go of his family this time.


Both Charlotte and Felicia fall asleep on the pull-out sofa in Veld's living room, still fully clothed and sprawled in every direction. Veld covers them both with a blanket, kisses their heads, and turns the floor lamp off.

"You can sleep in Felicia's bed tonight, son."

Tseng has his reservations about that, but upon seeing the room, decides it might not be so bad. Felicia's bed is certainly big enough and it looks clean enough, as well. There aren't many personal effects in the bedroom, if any at all, but there are a few cheap works of art upon the walls, probably bought from some street vendor in downtown Junon.

The bed is made, the curtains are open to reveal the dimly-lit street below. In the distance, Tseng can see the bright white lighting of the WRO Headquarters. He wonders if Reeve is still working at this hour, as it wouldn't be completely out of character for him to work throughout the entire night, sleeping in his office until doing it all over again the next day.

"You'll be leaving tomorrow, then?" Veld asks, standing in the threshold with his arms crossed, watching Tseng inspect his daughter's bedroom.

"More than likely, unless Charlotte has some other unfinished business she has yet to inform me about." He sits down on the bed. It's more comfortable than the ones at the resort. "I think she intends to remain in Junon for the time being."

"That's good to hear. She's got a friend here, at least. I hope you'll take the time out of your work schedule to visit more often."

"I'll try."

Veld smiles. It doesn't look like he believes Tseng. "Good-night, kid. I'll see you in the morning."

Though everything has been comfortable and homey, Tseng isn't used to the domesticity here. It makes him squirm. It makes him want to cry. It makes him want to run away. It makes him feel like he's just a foolish little teenager again, trying to impress Veld and the president's daughter. He doesn't really believe Veld will ever treat him like a fully grown adult, but if it makes the old man happy, then Tseng will play the dutiful son, as he's always done.

Regardless of the comfort, Tseng finds he can't sleep. He lays awake for a long time and listens to the rushing of the occasional car driving past the apartment building. He considers calling Reno or Rude or Elena, just to see what the situation is like back at Cliff Resort, but knows that someone would have called him if there had been an emergency.

The clock on the nightstand reads 3:18 when the bedroom door opens slowly. Normally, Tseng would sit up straight and immediately reach for his gun, assuming that someone had broken in and was attempting to harm him. But he knows the soft footsteps without a doubt, and he listens to them creep closer and closer to the bed.

Charlotte pulls back the blankets, probably thinking him to be asleep. She crawls into bed beside him, cold legs momentarily brushing against his own for a brief second before she situates and gets more comfortable.

"Good-night," she whispers, inches away from his face. The last time they had shared a bed was when they had stayed the night in Gongaga.

"Good-night," he answers, just as quietly.

The moment Charlotte realizes he's awake, she moves closer, slipping underneath his arm so she can wrap it around her shoulders, laying her head upon his chest.

With a lazy hand resting upon his stomach, Charlotte falls asleep almost immediately.

Tseng weeps.


Veld wakes with the sun. He's used to it by now. His damned biological alarm clock won't let him sleep past eight. The last time he had slept past then had been when he was unconscious, in a medically-induced coma following a mission that went horribly wrong.

When he walks out to comb through the kitchen, hoping to put together something for breakfast before everyone scatters across the world once more, he notices that Felicia is alone on the sofa, still sleeping soundly, curled into a little ball beneath the blanket.

Damn that girl, he curses himself, staring at the empty space where Charlie had fallen asleep last night.

It's just like that flighty little princess to leave without saying good-bye or letting anyone know, but her shoes by the door catch his eye. She wouldn't have left without at least putting her shoes on.

Veld hesitates, trying to listen for Charlie up and about. He can't hear the shower running, and the bathroom door is open, the light off.

He sighs, walking towards Felicia's bedroom. The door is unlocked, so he opens it just slightly, just enough so he's able to peer into the room.

Sure enough, Charlie is in there, fast asleep upon Tseng's chest. In a very unusual display of vulnerability, Tseng's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, his chest rising and falling steadily. They're both still clothed, which makes Veld feel relieved.

He can hardly tear himself away from the sight.

He remembers Tseng as a rookie Turk, awkward and lanky and stubborn (if that doesn't sound just like Charlie). It had taken time for the two of them to warm to each other, but Tseng didn't know how to conduct himself around women, and Charlie didn't know how to treat a man as her equal.

It's been a long time since then, and a lot has happened in those years. They've both grown up, permanently scarred by Shinra Incorporated.

Their time together had been a welcome reprieve. Even to hear them bickering like siblings behind Veld's back had been welcome, for Charlie's laughter would normally follow afterwards and any argument between the two of them would be immediately forgotten.

Veld closes the door and lets them sleep.


"You should quit."

Veld glances over his shoulder, leaning against the railing that keeps him from falling six stories to the concrete below. "It's the only thing keeping me sane."

Charlie steps up beside him, packed together on the small balcony his apartment provides. The view is not necessarily something beautiful, facing away from the water and towards the other tall buildings that make up Upper Junon. Veld holds out his cigarette between his fingers, and she looks at it for a moment before taking him up on his offer, putting it to her lips and immediately regretting it.

Her expression must be funny, because Veld chuckles.

"Where is Felicia?"

"Out," he replies. "She likes the market stalls. Where is Tseng?"

"Still sleeping. He'll probably sleep the entire day if you let him. The beds at Cliff Resort are old and uncomfortable."

"I must have missed the part where you and the boy decided to start sharing beds."

Charlie feels her cheeks redden, but she shouldn't feel ashamed. Not after everything she and Tseng have been through. She doesn't need to explain herself to Veld. "I like Felicia."

"She likes you. She'll be sorry to see you go."

She sighs. Without either of them speaking, she can hear the city waking. The waves that crash against the land seem to echo throughout the city. Doors are opening and closing. People are calling out the day's news. Cars drive up and down the streets.

"I'm staying in Junon," she tells him, trying to imagine if this place could one day truly be considered home. It's not Midgar, but it's better than the alternative, Cliff Resort. "I'm tired."

Veld turns his head to look at her. For a moment, Charlie thinks he might cry. "That makes me happy."

"Veld . . ." she looks out at the cityscape again. "Do you think . . . I'm a good person?"

"A good person?" he asks, flicking his cigarette over the side of the balcony. "I don't know what that means."

Charlie feels tears burn her eyes and she turns her face from him, gripping the railing tight.

"But do I think you are kind, and that you care for your people? Do I think you have compassion for others? Do I think that your heart is in the right place? Do I think that you have been trying earnestly to better yourself?" He chuckles to himself. "Yes. I do think that."

When did I become someone who cried like this? she thinks to herself, trying to hide her face behind her hands.

"I love you, little princess," he continues, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to hold her close, pressing the sides of their heads together, "just as much as I did when you were little, falling asleep in my arms."

Charlie closes her eyes, inhaling the smoky smell of him.

"And you are still my daughter, despite Felicia's return."


"Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine," she assures him with a smile, squeezing his hands before letting go. "My family is here."

The wind is cold this morning, and it smells terribly salty. Though it blows their hair around and into their faces, Tseng can't help but think Charlotte looks very pretty.

He's grown rather used to seeing her like this, not done up like the president's daughter or as the vice president. Without any makeup or high quality jewelry adorning her neck and ears, she looks like a normal twenty-something girl. She fits in well.

"I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't be," he says. "Nothing will happen to me."

"Yes, but who will take care of you?"

Tseng scoffs, unable to keep himself from rolling his eyes at such a ridiculous question. It makes Charlotte smile again.

"You'll come visit, won't you?" she asks again.

"I'll make it a top priority."

She giggles very sweetly. There's something lively about her. She hadn't been like this at Cliff Resort, always moping around and dragging her feet, unable to smile even if forced to.

"Why do I feel like these past few months, I've only been saying good-bye to you?" he sighs, rubbing his temples.

How many more times must they part like this? Like they'll never see each other again? And when had he started caring so much? Had he cared this much when they were only children still? Or has something changed between then and now?

Had it been the incident at the Temple of the Ancients that changed the trajectory of their relationship? Or had it been before that? Could it have been her father's murder that changed things? Or before even that, like when Angeal died, or when Veld had gone into hiding?

"Then let's not say good-bye this time," she suggests, holding her hands behind her back and shrugging. Charlotte pushes herself onto her toes, pressing her lips to his cheek. It certainly feels like she's saying good-bye. "I'll see you around, Tseng."

"Tell Reeve I said 'hello', would you?"

"I will."

With that, Tseng gets into the car. Charlotte doesn't immediately leave, instead waiting on the sidewalk with her arms wrapped around herself, looking around the street. The city is beginning to wake up, and things are business as usual, as if Meteor hadn't even touched down at all. It's a different world here than it is back in Edge.

As he pulls out of his parking spot and into the street, he glances in his side mirror.

Charlotte is speed-walking alongside the car, waving at him with a wide smile on her face. He waves back, and as he goes faster and faster, she picks up her own pace, weaving through the people on the sidewalk and keeping up with his car, still waving, but laughing now, her cheeks flushed and hair a mess, hand extended so he can see her waving, waving, waving . . .

She runs as far as she can, until she can't keep up any longer and he turns a corner and she's finally out of sight.

It only then occurs to Tseng that not once did she ask about Rufus.


"The blueprints look pretty solid . . . sorta."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Shera and I can make somethin' of it . . . we've got an idea of what you want. Problem is, ain't enough oil yet to fuel a son-of-a-bitch this size. Have a hard time believin' that Lottie even looked at it."

"She didn't. Is it that obvious?"

"No offense, but she's kinda the expert, ain't she?"

"I haven't really been in contact with her, which is why I need your opinion on this. Do you think we could schedule some time for the both of you to drop by Headquarters? I need to assemble a team, and credible engineers are hard to come by lately. Most of them are still in Edge doing construction on the city."

"I'll talk to the ol' lady and see what she thinks. We've been going through scraps here to see what can be salvaged. I'll call you when we got some idea."

"Thanks, Cid. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya."

He's running on fumes at this point.

He didn't exactly think that running an entire company himself would be easy, but this is beyond anything he could have expected. He still doesn't have enough trusted advisors to help him, unsure who to trust with his plans.

A few ex-Shinra employees (low level staff, of course) had joined up, likely looking for higher-up positions, but Reeve hasn't promised them anything. He's still wary and slightly paranoid, with little information about what Rufus is up to besides funding his own competitor.

However, Reeve finds it easy to put his trust into his old travel companions (or rather, Cait Sith's old travel companions). Barret had been one of the first to offer help, tearing off to Corel in search of oil among the old coal-mining town. Cid and Shera have been generous enough to look over blueprints and offer ideas in the way of airships, but with them being so far away, it's been difficult.

Cloud and Tifa have been providing him some information regarding what's going on in Edge, but they've been so busy running their new bar and making deliveries that he doesn't speak to them often.

Part of him had hoped that Vincent might stick around, as the former Turk might be a good intelligence officer, able to travel quickly and go unseen and unheard. But last Reeve checked, Vincent doesn't have a phone to stay in contact with, and no one has heard from him in months.

Reeve sighs, turning around in his chair to look out the broken windows of his office. The entirety of Headquarters is still relatively in disrepair after Weapon's attack, but his office isn't truly a priority. At least with the windows permanently opened, he can smell the salty sea and feel the light breeze against the back of his neck as he works throughout the night.

It reminds him slightly of Costa del Sol, but dirtier.

Cait Sith lies crumpled in the corner of his office on a low shelf. He's been deactivated for months now, but sometimes Reeve considers turning him back on just for some company. The last time the cat had been put to use was when the Turks wanted him to gather some information about where they might find Rufus, even if he hadn't been much use to them.

Needing some fresh air, Reeve leaves his office, locking the door behind him. There's no telling who might snoop around inside while he's away, looking for things to pilfer and sell for a couple of quick gil.

Shops are already open, or in the process of opening. The local newspaper is being sold on the corner just outside Headquarters, and Reeve pays the good man extra for a copy. The article on the front cover details the rebuilding of Edge, an article he had been interviewed for. There's a quote direct from his mouth in slightly bigger writing just underneath the title, describing the steps taken to fund the creation of a brand new city.

On the second page, something catches his eye. It's a small article, nothing more than a gossip column, but he can't help himself.

MISSING HEIRESS RUMORED TO BE SPOTTED IN KALM

For months since Meteorfall, the world has been wondering about the whereabouts of Charlotte Shinra, 27. While she has not made a public appearance since the tragedy at Midgar, many have speculated as to what may have happened to her.

Several recent anonymous readers have claimed to have spotted her in Kalm only several days ago. We have reached out to some residents for comment, but have not heard back. In any case, it may very well have been a case of mistaken identity, but the question remains . . .

Where is Charlotte Shinra hiding? And what is to become of Shinra Incorporated?

Charlie? Spotted in Kalm?

He can hardly believe it himself. What is there in Kalm for Charlie, anyway? He has a hard time believing she would go to check-in with Elmyra, and Freyra and Juget are still there . . . surely they would have said something about seeing her, right?

Reeve chalks it up to mere gossip, some refugees wanting a little bit of attention. He closes the newspaper, tucks it under his arm, and carries on down the street.


She knocks for five whole minutes before accepting that no one is home.

She should have figured Reeve wouldn't be at home during the middle of the day, but she hadn't wanted to go waltzing into Headquarters just yet, afraid someone would recognize her and make a scene.

Charlotte puts her back to the door of Rufus's old apartment and slides down it, landing hard on her tailbone and sighing, holding her knees to her chest.

She could just wait here for Reeve to come home, but knowing that poor workaholic, he might not be home for days, content to sleep within his office or wherever he's holed up. She could also just call him, telling him that she's come home, but that wouldn't be quite the surprise she's hoping for.

Veld had brushed the knots of her hair this morning before feeding her breakfast, and Felicia had pulled out the few articles of clothing she owns. They had been plain things, clothing that Charlie normally wouldn't choose to wear, but she wasn't going to refuse the kind gesture.

The shirt is a little tight around her chest and Veld had needed to give her a belt for her pants, creating new holes in it with the end of his rusty old pocket knife, the same one he's had since she was a little girl.

The boots she wears are the same ones she's been wearing for the past year, a sturdy pair that's traveled the world with her, across abandoned railroad tracks and over precarious bridges, through desert prisons and up rocky red cliff sides. They're dirty and creased and falling apart, but Charlie finds a queer sort of comfort in them.

It's been a long few days. She's still attempting to process everything, from meeting Felicia for the first time to hearing the story about her mother to saying good-bye to Tseng for what feels like the hundredth time.

She's glad Tseng had come with her to see Veld. In hindsight, she doesn't really know that she would have had the courage to do it alone. But for a brief moment, for a day, it had been like she had her family back.

Eventually, after deciding that Reeve likely won't be home for some time, Charlie collects herself and stands, swinging her bag back over her shoulder. It's much lighter without the money and medicine she had originally brought, most of it given to Freyra and Juget to distribute across the planet.

She'll just have to go to Headquarters.


He's in the middle of a meeting when the poor volunteer interrupts him.

The airship business is beginning to annoy him. Reeve hadn't truly realized what he was getting himself into when he suggested the idea, and it took off faster than wildfire. Everyone had been too excited by the prospect, and now they're trying to worm their way through loopholes, unable to keep up with the creativity process.

Cities? He can build a city. But an airship? How was he supposed to know that it would be more difficult than designing an entire floating city such as Midgar?

"Commissioner, there's someone here to see you."

Reeve doesn't miss a beat, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the documents in front of him. "Have them leave their information with my secretary. I'm busy at the moment."

But the volunteer doesn't leave. She clears her throat and lingers in the doorway.

Reeve sets the papers down. "Forgive me, but I am in the middle of an incredibly important meeting."

"It's about the airship, sir. They said they're here to inspect it. They've traveled a long way, sir."

"And where are they?"

"The airport, sir. They said they would wait there for you."

Cid, he thinks, slightly relieved, but still irritated with his lack of patience. "Very well," Reeve answers, getting to his feet and looking around at the room of engineers, mechanics, and scientists. "Let's move this meeting up to the airport, shall we? I have a feeling the captain will have several . . . wonderful ideas to present . . . that could have been presented here . . ."

The room chuckles, gathering their things and filing out of the meeting room singlefile, whispering amongst themselves.

Reeve doesn't speak while he makes his way to the outdoor elevator. It feels as if there isn't enough time in a day lately, unable to think straight. He needs a vacation, but a vacation could mean the WRO falling apart. Truly, he needs a partner, not a vacation . . . someone to lighten the load a little bit, to offer him input, to offer him advice, maybe to at least have some back-and-forth. Friends are hard to come by lately, as well.

He misses Charlotte. Every potential business partner that has made their case has (unknowingly) had to compete with Charlie, which Reeve knows is a high-standard, but the idea of doing this without her seems wrong.

The bare bones of an airship protocol is all that's at the airport now. After the Highwind had been stolen by Shinra, there weren't any other ships to keep parked here. His irritation grows when he hears someone making a racket from within, likely Cid already tinkering with the WRO's property. It would be just like him.

"You know there is a method to these things?" Reeve asks curtly, reaching up to knock on the outside of the airship where the sounds echo from. "Asking permission to touch would be the first step of that method, Captain."

The hatch to the airship opens and someone drops down, shocking Reeve into absolute silence.

"Is that how the Commissioner of the WRO treats the world's most renown aeronautical engineer?"

He can't believe it. He can't believe she's standing in front of him, like no time has passed at all since they last saw each other, dressed like she's just spent the last few months living on the street, in clothes that don't fit and boots that are on the verge of breaking. Her hair is cut short, her face clean and clear.

And around her neck, dangling from a silver chain, her engagement ring flashes below the sunshine.

Several people are beginning to whisper, excitedly speaking in hushed tones about the appearance of Charlotte Shinra.

"What—what are you—what are you doing here?" he manages to ask, his voice barely there, the people behind him temporarily forgotten.

Charlie looks sheepish at that. She holds her hands behind her back and kicks lightly at the ground. "I heard the WRO had a few open positions."

"Yes," he rasps, breathing very hard, "yes, you're hired—"

"You haven't even interviewed me yet. Aren't you going to at least ask me a few questions to see if I'm a good fit?"

"Are you here to stay?"

Charlie smiles, and it's a weight lifted off his heart, even without hearing her proper answer. "If the WRO will have me."

"Then yes—" Without thinking, Reeve moves forward and wraps her in his arms, preparing to kiss her hard upon the mouth, watching Charlotte's eyes flutter closed—"Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes . . ."

He can feel her smile against his lips, the laughter that bubbles from her chest and vibrates against his own skin. His ragtag crew of volunteers are cheering from behind him, but he doesn't give them the time of day, too focused on the entity in his arms that might disappear if he lets go for a second.

There is no possible way this is real. She must be a ghost, a figment of his imagination, but no spirit would be so receptive to his touch and kisses, and he is so familiar with the laughter that echoes off the steel of the airship and fills the air, perhaps the entire city, alerting the entirety of Upper Junon to her presence.

Reeve stops kissing her only to hold her out at arms' length, to inspect her carefully.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she remarks, allowing him to tap her on the cheek, to adjust the clothes that hang off her frame, to touch the ends of her hair. "You don't want to make a scene in front of your company volunteers, do you?"

He looks over his shoulder, but all of the volunteers he has brought to the airport are averting their eyes, red in the face. Quickly, he looks back at Charlie, relieved that she's still standing in front of him.

"I'd love to sit in on your meeting, if you don't mind," she tells him.

"My meeting?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "My meeting can wait. I think I'm of a mind to take the rest of the day off."

Charlotte grins, which eases him of all his little anxieties. It can't be a ghost or his imagination or some impersonator standing in front of him. This smile has always been reserved just for him, a reward for him whenever she was given exactly what she wanted, and it is still a reward now.

"That sounds very unlike you, Commissioner," she teases quietly, holding her hands behind her back.

They continue to only smile at each other, as innocent as they had been nearly ten years ago.