Santana draws her fingers along the bruises on Charlie's hip. She had probably grabbed onto them to tightly last night, it wasn't her fault that Charlie bruised easily. Still—she resisted the urge to pepper kisses along the bruises and instead focused on attempting to shove the guilt back in the closet. She was Santana Lopez, future heir of the Los Angelicos, she wasn't supposed to do guilt. She was also not supposed to want to wrap her arms protectively around the younger woman, it was far too intimate an act.

"Will you stop thinking so loudly?" Charlie grumbles, she can feel Santana's gaze and her fingers along her body. Santana was probably in the mood for morning sex and she would rather sleep in. It was odd though, Santana was the deep sleeper between them, and the one that generally insisted on sleeping in.

Santana freezes for a moment, she had thought that Charlie was asleep, but she shrugs it off internally. "Sorry," she murmurs not truly feeling the apology.

The apology is what forces Charlie to pop one eye open. Something was clearly wrong, Santana Lopez never apologized. She twisted history to suit her and rarely ever took responsibility. It was her most frustrating quality and redeeming quality, though that was something that she'd never admit to Santana. It was far easier to bitch about it then to admit that she found it slightly amusing. She stretches a bit, she had been warm and almost cuddly and after the last few days all she wants to do is stay in bed with Santana beside her these feelings that she was having were becoming problematic. "Don't be weird."

"I'm not being weird." Santana retorts immediately pulling away from Charlie.

"You're being weird. So the question is: what's wrong with you?" Charlie sits up and grimaces when she sits up and realizes that Santana's gotten cum in her hair again. She really did have the worst aim, maybe she needed glasses. She'd book an appointment for an optometrist later.

Santana raises a brow and doesn't say anything right away, it's far too early in the morning to come up with something believable. But she needed to shove Charlie away and give her the time to put her walls back up. Charlie was far too observant for her own good. "My parents have been adamant about children." It has it's intended effect and Charlie immediately curls away from her.

"You are not putting a child inside me." The thought of something—Santana's demon spawn growing inside of her made her skin crawl. It was also more permanent than a tattoo. She could get the tattoo removed, she had no idea what she would do with a child.

Charlie's tone causes Santana's lip to twitch and she immediately looks away. "I figured as much," she said as she rolls out of the bed and grabs a robe that's nearby. "I was just thinking of something to tell my father."

"Tell him that I'm—what's the word infertile. Tell him that we checked, apparently getting stabbed a few times left some scar tissue and it would be impossible to get pregnant." Charlie says smoothly. "You'll finally get to put your dick into someone else, it's a win-win situation."

"Right." Santana agrees distractedly. She covers herself up and turns toward the door.

Charlie narrows her eyes. Now she knows something's wrong, Santana had never hidden her body with her. Instead Santana being naked was usually followed with requests for a blowjob. She reaches out and grabs Santana's wrist before she can get too far away. "What?"

Santana stared blankly at Charlie for a moment, wondering how to even begin to sort through the mess of emotions in her mind. She swallows and then smirks she knew the perfect set of words to get Charlie to roll her eyes and leave her alone, "Just don't go killing them because you got jealous. You know you can always have some of my dick whenever you want."

Charlie let's go of Santana's wrist immediately and makes a disgusted face. "You disgust me."

"That's not what you said last night. I'm pretty sure you begged me to fuck you harder. How are you feeling? Going to be walking funny today?" Santana continues, even though she wasn't in the mood to mock Charlie. Her words have their intended effect, Charlie was predictable at times like this, and the younger woman immediately rolls out of bed and begins to grab her clothes. It shouldn't bother her this much, and there's a part of her that wants to ask Charlie to stay for a while. It's enough to give her pause, when had she cared enough to ask Charlie what she wanted. She shakes the thoughts out of her head. "Have you decided how you're going to convince the men you aren't some sort of mole? You do realize that if this was anyone else that I would put a bullet in their head just to be safe right?"

"Yes Santana, I'm aware that my most recent kidnapping by my sister was inconvenient for you." Charlie replies acidly as she looks for her underwear. "It's been fifteen years; one would think that that they would realize that I've had a million opportunities to run. I haven't despite the fact that this gang has put me through hell."

"I gave you a choice—"

"Yes, that's what my family does. We make decisions. Quinn made a decision to save her wife instead of running with me. I don't blame her; I did point a gun at her twice." Charlie shrugs her shoulders as she puts on her underwear and heads to the bathroom so she can wash her hair out as best as she can.

Santana's quiet for a moment, she hasn't even asked. "Do you—uh want to talk about it?" Charlie lifts her head up from the sink and pokes her head out the bathroom door and stares at her. "About your twin sister. Your family—you know whatever? I only ask because fancy hotels like this overcharge for the smallest amounts of alcohol, and I am not paying for you to get drunk. You still have yet to replace any of what you took the last time."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment she was being weird again. "She's not the one that betrayed me. So I don't hate her because of that, I hate her because she was the one that he chose to keep. I was nothing but—" Charlie exhales and stills her emotions before shrugging. "I was a piece of trash that he could throw away. This isn't her fault. I know that, Quinn didn't choose to be the favorite daughter." Charlie was quiet. She had spent many a nights thinking about it. Some nights it was all she could think about. That sort of frustration and animosity didn't go away just because she wanted it to.

Santana sinks back to the bed. She doesn't quite know what to say and this whole feelings thing was out of her depth. "Was she always such a bitch?"

Charlie laughs at that. "Of course you would think that." She smirks a little as a thought strikes her. "You know, the pair of you probably would have been friends. If the circumstances were different." Quinn probably would have been one of the many women who had pulled the trigger.

Santana pulls a face. "God I hope not. Me and Tubbers? I'm pretty sure we would have murdered each other. No, I know this may make me sound like an ass, but I would choose you every time."

Charlie looks away at that. There it was again, the uncomfortable reminder that Santana was the only person on earth that ever chose her. Santana had put her first time and time again, and this time was no different. She made it incredibly difficult to hate her. "Maybe," Charlie shrugs.

Santana nods, suddenly wishing that Sebastian had made the trip with her. There were things she needed—wanted to discuss with him. "On that note, get your ass in gear. You need to talk to the men."

~O~

Brittany had known Quinn for years, as far as partners went, she was pretty sure that she was the the best partner Quinn could ever hope for. Yet—everything about the whole situation felt off.

She had taken home case files on a hunch before, so this time really shouldn't be any different. Now that they had confirmation that Los Angelicos had been directly tied to Charlie's disappearance—however that happened—Quinn had become obsessed. Which was great, perfect even. Quinn was a rising star in the FBI for a reason and with the Los Angelicos in her sights, well she wasn't sure that their organization was a match for Quinn. She would definitely find something; it was just a matter of when. Quinn was currently pouring over every scrap of information that contained anything about Los Angelicos.

But Brittany had a weird feeling about this. Something didn't quite add up and she had learned long ago that it was better to listen to her instincts when they pinged this strongly. So even though she was the best partner in the world and would support Quinn's investigation, she tried to take a step back. One of the worst things that could happen to an investigation was to get too narrow-sighted.

That's why she wanted to approach it from a different angle. Quinn was currently eating, drinking and sleeping with the Los Angelicos files and on a whim Brittany grabbed a couple of leftover boxes. It really wasn't supposed to reveal much of anything—just confirm that Los Angelicos were the worst bad guys the FBI had ever seen.

Only they weren't.

One curious note led to two, which led to her entire office being stacked floor to ceiling with local gang files of groups that were pushing into Los Angelicos' territory. She had expected to find the usual amount of gang activity, turf wars and retaliatory killings were the norm. What she had found was worse—way worse.

There was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Every single gang that threatened the Los Angelicos—whether by encroaching on their territory, moving similar product or just starting rumors of competing with Los Angelicos—had been dismantled. Like clockwork, every single one was shut down and dismantled either by the DEA, the FBI or ATF. One or two major busts against a large gang would be expected but this was almost methodical.

There was only one explanation for this, and it made her sick to think about it. The evidence to put these groups away was too perfect. Every single 'i' was dotted and the 't's were crossed.

There was a mole. No, that didn't quite make sense. No one was going after the Los Angelicos, there were a few busts here and there, but nothing major, no one was working on it. It was like that case up in Boston—the Whitey Bulger case, the FBI had allowed him to do whatever he wanted for some information. It had led to him consolidating power and getting more and more brash until they couldn't ignore it anymore. But Los Angelico's weren't making that mistake, they weren't killing people—no they were letting the FBI do it for them. Something like this was huge, massive, and it took a lot of clout to pull off. Whoever the Los Angelicos had working for them had to be someone extremely high up on the food chain.

Someone—like a sitting senator and former presidential candidate. Someone like—" Brittany. Where's the Martinelli murder case-file? I think I'm on to something."

Brittany gestured to the large boxes of files. She was on to something too. "Quinn have you talked to your father yet?"

Quinn didn't bother turning around. "No. I've been avoiding his call. I'll tell him when I actually have good news."

Brittany nods, Quinn wouldn't make the same connections that she would. Though now that she thought about it, Charlie's entire reactions were starting to make sense. She hadn't actually reacted until Quinn had made the attempt to call their father. "I think that you should hold off for now even when you have good news. Wait until the arrest warrants are going to be sent out."

Quinn paused and looked at Brittany studying her, Brittany was on to something. "You want to share your reason?"

Brittany's blue eyes swept over Quinn, she was way too close to this to see the bigger picture and implicating her father would ruin her. "Not yet, but soon. Just don't do it until I get some sources alright?"

Quinn frowns as Brittany gets up to get her jacket, "I'll go with you—"

"Quinn—sit work on the Martinelli case file or go to your couple's therapy session that you're already late for. I'll be back later."

Quinn's eyes widened and she glanced at the time, "Fuck!" She immediately began to grab her own stuff looking for her car keys. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Language!" Brittany admonishes watching as Quinn practically trips on her way to get out the door. It was enough of a distraction to allow her to grab a few other things that she would need. She had always been good at reading people even when they didn't say anything and she needed to ask the question that had been bugging her all day to the one person who probably had answers. She just needed to figure out where Charlie was and how she was once again going to separate her from the pack.