'Checking in for the Lakers it's number 74 Charlie Fabray.'

"Bela, turn that down, your abuela and I are having a discussion." Santana snaps. It's been four months and she's no closer to being a divorcee than she was two weeks ago. She was tired of wearing the big baggy clothes and ducking away from the paparazzi that seemed camped outside to get a picture for Star Magazine's next spread wondering if she was pregnant or not. The worst was the Enquirer which suggested that she was stress eating because Charlie had left her. She was also not a food addict, thank you very much.

Instead of the volume going down, the game grows louder throughout their house. 'It's a new look for Fabray, clearly his marital problems have only helped his game.'

"Bela!"

"Sorry." Bela yelled back even though she wasn't really sorry.

Maribel frowns sympathetically. She knew what it's like to raise a pre-teen and Santana hadn't exactly been easy either. "I think—"

"SLAM DUNK! Daddy just did a SLAM DUNK!" Max yelled loudly cheering as he bounced on the couch.

Santana grimaced slightly, "Max! No jumping on the furniture! You're not Tom Cruise and that isn't Oprah's couch! And what have we said about indoor voices?"

"Sorry mommy!" Max called out. "Bela I wanna see it again!"

Santana rubbed her temples, "So, what did the lawyers say?" She asked looking at her mother. She had been surprised when she had taken a leave to help her with the kids and her pregnancy and make sure that she wasn't getting shafted in her divorce. Her father generally spent the weekends with them. And if it wasn't her parents then it was Brittany or Rachel calling to check up on her, Quinn had shown up once or twice. She hadn't really said anything; she had just whisked the kids away for a special day.

"We've agreed on spousal support, custody, and division of assets. Charlie agreed not to ask to enforce the prenuptial agreement as long as you are willing to be flexible with his visitation schedule." Maribel talks as swiftly as she can, making sure to keep her voice low as to not interrupt the kids.

"And he was okay with two weekends a month, a few weeks in the summer and alternating holidays?"

"He agreed right away, as long as you are willing to work with his work schedule, his lawyers said they were told to give you whatever you want."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Of course he said that." She takes a deep breath, wondering not for the first time how this was her life. "And you think everything is fair?"

"I've been over this with a fine-toothed comb. I can't see any evidence of his father anywhere." Maribel admits. "The only caveat was for spousal support."

"I don't need—"

"Hush. That boy was supposed to take care of you and he broke your heart and he wanted to pay spousal support."

"I don't want to take a dime of his money."

Maribel scowls. "Santana, you're pregnant with his child and it's not exactly been the easiest road already. Put the money in the bank or use it as a nice nest egg. I don't care. But your career has taken a hit and if you're serious about leaving LA—"

"I am. We have to get out of here."

"Then take the money. You aren't even thirty and you'll be a single mother of three with a growing business He promised he would pay spousal support until you married someone else."

"Are you kidding me, this is his way of ensuring that I'm dependent on him, he probably doesn't think I'll actually sign the divorce papers. It's probably some—Fabray mind game or something."

"He isn't that intelligent," Maribel responds flatly. She knew all the Fabray children well, they had practically lived at her house when things had been difficult. Charlie wasn't intelligent in that way, Quinn and Brittany on the other hand were. "You asked me to make sure you got your pound of flesh and this is going to financially devastate him—"

'Fabray from long range—sinks the three. That makes 35.'

Santana rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone and typed in her name before reading off one of the headlines from a sleazy magazine. "Santana regretting divorce as Charlie sinks forty." She slides the phone across the table towards her mother so she can read the other headlines. "There are a million of those articles but they don't matter. What matters is this does have Russell's hands all over it and I'm surprised you can't see it. Yeah it's going to cost him now but Charlie's not earning the maximum he could be earning. He's going to sign another contract after next season for a whole lot of money. None of which I'm really entitled to except for the spousal support payments, which I don't want, which will be nothing. Not to mention the new endorsements that he's bound to get if they win the title and if he becomes the MVP. This is going to be Charlie's city after that and that means it's going to be Russell's playground. Which means the attacks on my body, the paparazzi hounding me, the shaming that I'm living with won't stop." Santana swallowed clutching her hand tightly, she couldn't protect her kids from that type of hatred and with the entire city turning on her like she was the one that cheated on him. It made the situation infinitely worse. "That's why I need to take my kids out of the situation."

Maribel nods, "Your father and I have discussed it and you know our home is open to you whenever you need it. But we were thinking that maybe you should come back to Ohio? Cleveland has some good schools and your father has been asking around. The houses are considerably cheaper as well." She adds, watching her daughter carefully. She and Carlos were nearly beside themselves with worry and sometimes it felt like Santana was a little more than a functioning zombie. They didn't blame her, but it did little to calm their worries.

Santana draws her lips into a tight line. She hates Ohio, but Ohio is about as far away from LA as she is ever going to get. "I can't move until the divorce is finalized. I don't want him having any claim on my life." She was sure Russell was behind the digging comments and leaked details of their divorce, even if she had no evidence. She just wanted to start over without the Fabray name hanging over her like a weight. She sighs to herself. The saddest part is the pathetic sliver of hope inside herself that keeps wanting to give him another chance. She couldn't—wouldn't act on it. Her kids might not understand now, but they would thank her for her example later.

Maribel arches her brow but doesn't say anything. As much as she wishes she could write Charlie out of their futures he was the father of her unborn child. There wasn't really any way to remove him completely. Unless she murdered him. Which was always an option.

Santana rubs her brow tiredly. Charlie made his choice. He chose his father and the life of fame and fortune over their family. And yeah, he didn't fight her on anything but she wasn't sure if that just made her more furious or if it made her sad. At least if he was being a dick about it she'd know that deep down he was fighting for them, for their family. "I can deal with Cleveland; the kids might not like it right away but it's still something. It's less superficial than LA is that's for sure and the kids can go to school without being hounded by the paparazzi."

"What are you going to do with the house?"

"Sell it." Santana declares with a shiver. She doesn't need the money now but she definitely doesn't need a multi-million-dollar house that only reminds her of what a naive idiot she had been.

"Are you sure? Maybe it's a good idea to keep it as an asset?" Maribel suggests. Santana loved her house, it was the thing that most recreational watchers of that stupid reality show knew about her and it seemed like a kneejerk reaction just to sell it.

Santana shakes her head. She's thought about it a lot. "No. I can't even sleep our—my bed without wondering if he'd ever—" She trails off when her voice catches at the thought. "No. I want the house on the market and then to get as far away from here as possible."

"We're moving?" Bela's voice causes both adults to snap their heads toward her. "Why? Is this cause you and dad are getting divorced?"

It's enough to draw Max's attention as he stops hopping on the couch and walks over to his sister. "How will daddy find us?" He frowns his daddy had promised that he would fix it.

Santana winced it wasn't something that she was eager to share with the kids yet the papers hadn't yet been signed. With the playoffs and everything Charlie had been on the road and hadn't been able to see them as much as he wanted. She doesn't know what to say them but she can only tell them the truth. "Yes we're going to move closer to your abuelo's, so they can help me with the pregnancy. Your father—you'll have the entire summer with him and you can see him whenever you want. But I think the move will be good for us."

Max frowned, he didn't want to move away from his dad, he barely got to see him as it was. He's about to say something when sound of the game starting back up causes his attention to split and he immediately rushes back nearly tripping.

Bela turns to look at her brother for a moment studying him and making sure he wasn't paying attention before looking at her mom for a second, "Are you and dad getting divorced because he's not really my dad?"

Santana's body goes rigid, her mind racing. "Where did you hear that?" She asked but she already knew, she knew that this had Russell's hands written all over it. He had probably said it when the kids were around and Bela had overheard. And Charlie insisted on keeping that man in their lives? Charlie chose him over her?

Bela crosses her arms and raises her brow in a startling display that reminds Santana too much of herself. "You did. I heard you."

Maribel glances at her daughter who looked like she was about to have a coronary and quickly steps in. "Of course he's your father. No one loves you more than your parents Isabela, and it's certainly not something that should be in your head. Your father—loves you and he's your real dad. He changed your diapers, he fed you, he read you stories, he played dress up with you, he's your real dad. So take it out of your mind and don't say anything to anyone, it might really hurt your dad's feelings."

Bela's brow furrowed a bit, "So—it's not my fault?"

"It's your father's fault," Maribel responded.

"Mami." Santana scolds, finally managing to catch up. She gestures for Bela to come and sit beside her. When the almost ten-year-old begrudgingly complies, she pulls her daughter even closer. "No. It's not your fault, and sometimes we make choice that we can't take back. Your father will always love you, just like I always love you."

"But he's said sorry, and he got you flowers and he got you chocolate and he's really sorry—and I don't know why he can't come home." The words come tumbling out of Bela's mouth and she scrunches her face trying not to cry.

Santana cringes. It's the question that she's dreaded since this whole mess started. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind Bela's ear as she tries to think of the right response. "I know you don't understand and it's hard and confusing. But sometimes things don't work out the way we want them to."

That doesn't really do anything to make Bela feel better, this was stupid, she knew her dad missed her mom more than anything and he was really weird about it, asking her all sorts of questions and making sure to send them home with lots of bacon and weird gross food whenever it was their turn to spend time with him. But he never came inside anymore or left the car and he was living at Aunt Brittany's place which was covered in cat fur. "But you love him right?"

"Always," Santana promises running a hand through Bela's hair and wiping away her tears gently. She would always love the idiot more than anything. She swallows for a moment, even though it hurts her kids deserve some sense of normality, she was practically dragging them back to the middle of nowhere. "Let's go watch your father play some basketball while he looks like a hobo. I bet that thing he calls a beard is scratchy."

Bela nods and crinkles her nose, "It's super scratchy!"

"ANOTHER THREE!" Max shouts loudly and it's enough to get Bela to pull away from her mom for a second so she could see for herself. "He made the other guy fall on his butt!"

Santana watches Bela for a moment before she pushes herself up and glances at her mom, "I'm going to go watch the game with the kids, but tell the lawyers that all of this is fine and I want to get it over with. So they need to start finalizing, I'll sign after playoffs are done."

~O~

Quinn frowned as she poked the lump that was her twin brother, with a coat hanger. "Are you sure he's not dead?" She questioned Brittany raising a brow. "He certainly smells like it."

Brittany smiled a bit, her brother did smell and she really couldn't blame Quinn for asking the obvious question. "No, he's been like this ever since his lawyers handed him the finalized divorce papers to sign. That's why I called you. He's stinking up my furniture."

Quinn prodded Charlie again raising a brow, "Well it's not like he has to sign them, seriously get up and shower you smell like ass. This is worse than when you went through puberty." Charlie doesn't move and she rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Charlie? You just won the NBA finals, you were MVP, and you knew this was coming. I'm not saying it shouldn't affect you but come on, sitting here stinking up Brittany's apartment is not the answer."

There was a low muffled sound and Brittany sighed taking the hanger and poking him with it. "Charlie, don't make me call mom. You know I'll do it."

"She's taking the kids. I gave her everything she wanted just so she wouldn't take the kids, but she is. She's waiting till I sign the divorce papers then she's going to sell the house and my cars and everything and she's going to take my kids and make it impossible for me to see them for most of the year." Charlie swallows.

"Santana told you this?" Quinn pressed pinching the bridge of her nose. Charlie loved those kids more than anything and it probably had something to do with the fact that he was a giant child. Or at least she thought so.

"No, Bela did."

"You're using your kid to spy on your soon to be ex-wife?" Brittany frowned poking Charlie hard with the hanger again. "Come on, don't be that guy—"

"Santana's pregnant. I asked her how her mom was! I think I'm allowed to do that." Charlie snaps smacking the hanger away angrily. He wasn't going to stop caring about his damn wife. "She's the one that told me that Santana's planning to move. Max mentioned it too. No one—she can't take them away from me. I want to be there for them go to their little plays meet their teachers, you know and their friends and watch our Saturday morning cartoons together—"

"So ask to be traded to a place that is closer to them, problem solved," Brittany shrugged this was hardly the end of the world.

"They aren't going to trade him." Quinn responds, if Charlie was just any player they probably wouldn't care enough. "He becomes a free agent next summer, and he's their MVP and the city loves him. They aren't going to trade him, and if he starts making waves now his stock will go down. You're making them a ton of money. Of course they aren't going to trade you and even if they do trade you there's no guarantee that you'll get what you're looking for. There aren't a lot of teams that have the cap space for Charlie's salary right now. Hell people are waiting till he hits free agency to start rebuilding around him."

"Well, that's why you should have kept it in your pants dummy," Brittany poked him again.

Quinn sighed, there was no point in dwelling on this now. "You're going to need to hash this out with Santana, she can't just take the kids and run. If you need to fight this in court—"

"Which is a terrible idea," Brittany says speaking up. "Santana's pregnant and we all know her pregnancies haven't been easy. You're adding stress to already messed up situation and have you read the papers lately. She's probably leaving to get your kids away from having her painted as a devil. I mean I know she likes that but it's not on her terms anymore. Taking them out of LA might be good for them."

"So is having their father around—well that's debatable. None of us really had our father around," Quinn retorts and looks at her brother. Brittany made a legitimate point and Charlie had every right to be feeling—whatever this was. Charlie should never have heard about this from the kids though. "You know what my advice is, get a mediator to hash out a new plan so you can have time with your kids and keep in mind this is less than a year. You can then move to the closest city that you can possibly be to her, at this point any team will be willing to have you."

Charlie swallowed, "I miss her. God I miss her. I just want to go home, this place has cat fur and a cat that hates me and I miss my kids and my wife and she's pregnant and I just want to hold her—god I just want to hold my wife."

"Well, a few suggestions if you're going to see your soon to be ex-wife. Shave. Shower. Put on copious amounts of deodorant," Quinn suggests flatly, she didn't really have any sympathy for him. He knew the destructive nature of cheating and she couldn't believe that he had done it. Not once, but he had done it with multiple women. This was just the consequences of his actions, and while she felt bad for him he didn't deserve her sympathy. Santana hadn't asked him for his left kidney, she had asked for him to fire their father. It was a stupid stand to take, and she didn't quite understand why Charlie hadn't just fired him. Or at the very least let Santana fire him. Maybe their father had something on Charlie. Russell was fucking up his son's life and Charlie just couldn't see it.