"Kurt?"

Kurt glanced up from his tablet, and looked up at his boss. It was her first day back to work. It had been a bit touch and go and he personally wasn't sure if Charlie was coming back to work. Things had been different, Charlie was different and he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of her seeing someone about what had happened. "Yes Ma'am?"

"What happened to my office." Charlie insists pointing at the room in question which was covered in flowers and cards and balloons.

"Well, even though I insisted that you didn't need a welcome back party, or anything of the sort your employees missed you and they wanted to let you know that they care. So, they did this, against my advice. When you see them at the party just show some gratitude. I mean you have to remember Sam Evans was the interim CEO."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Charlie questioned.

The frown on Kurt's face was almost imperceptible, instead he turns to "Of course not, you have more important things to do, and to think about. I went through all your messages, and arranged them from most important to least important. Various world leaders, and other CEOs have called to wish you well, and a speedy recovery. You have an hour to listen to them all, after which you have several meetings back to back with our public relations department. As far as anyone knows you were kidnapped by a crazed lunatic, I believe that they want to run with that, but of course that is completely up to you. You then have a welcome back party—"

"I'll do an interview with Larry King, I like him. I want a real interviewer, bastard generally gives me enough rope to hang myself. Set it up. Cancel the meeting with the public relations department, I don't need them telling me how to avoid taking blame. Also, the therapist that I'm very aware that you hired for me—cancel it. Just give me all the paperwork that needs my signature, give me the projections for next quarter and tell every department head that I need full reports by the end of day tomorrow."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, that wasn't going to bode well for anybody. It would mean an extremely late night for most people and entire departments to get their quarterly reports done by tomorrow. The last time Charlie had been in this mood there had been a spate of firings. "Of course, I'll get right on that. Now, Charlie—"

"Also, can you do something about my office. I can't work like that. I don't know who can work like that. Clear out conference room three for me will you, I'll work in there until this mess is cleaned up."

"Right away and should I also get you your augmented reality contacts?" Kurt asked.

Charlie turned to him for a moment, she didn't want to deal with her employees, but if she didn't deal with them Kurt would make comments about how she had an image to protect. She just didn't personally care at this moment. "Fine."

Kurt nodded at this, at least she was making an effort. Perhaps he could arrange for a different type of therapist. It had been awhile since he had arranged anything in Charlie's personal life. "Also, Santana has called—"

"Kurt, I like to think that as my assistant that some of my intelligence has rubbed off on you. As if my actions haven't made it clear enough, I don't want to talk to her. You're my assistant, and you dislike her. Make something up."

"I intend to, but I want to remind you, that Santana has a tendency to cause property damage. She also has a habit of hunting you down and finding you when you don't want to be found causing more property damage in the process. You're running out of insurance companies who will take you on as a client. So, while I don't understand what's going on through your mind right now, or how you want to deal with that or when you want to deal with Santana, but you will have to deal with it. She's irritatingly persistent." Kurt responded, he was not going to simply bow down because Charlie was in one of her moods. She knew that he was indispensable at this point and he was one of the few people who could put up with her.

"I'm aware," Charlie replies as she straightens her jacket. "Since we're on the topic of people I don't want to deal with, find me a reason to miss the staff party. I have work to do, I don't even want to think of the damage the interim CEO managed to cause to my company."

"Anything else?" Kurt asks after a moment.

"No, I would rather just be left alone to work Kurt. Unless it's an emergency I would rather not be disturbed. You do remember what constitutes as an emergency right?"

Kurt finally rolled his eyes at this, "I've been with you for years Ma'am. Of course, I know what an emergency is."

Charlie studies him for a moment before nodding and turning around, heading to the conference room. She pauses for a moment and turns to Kurt, "You're probably going to need to keep my schedule loose, I may change some things and have some people come in. Hopefully by then you'll have my office looking normal."

Kurt blinked, that sounded more like the Charlie he knew, the one that was always planning and plotting. "Of course. Are you planning to take over the world today Ma'am?"

"Not today Kurt, but I should probably start moving the pieces so it will be easier."

~O~

"You don't get to summon me Charlie. You can pick up a phone and give me a call, you probably have my phone number. No need to send your creepy goons in a car to come and pick me up."

Charlie raised a brow and shifts her cane in her hand slightly as she picks up a fancy looking bottle, "Scotch? It's obscenely expensive, more than you make in a year. Well—more than you were making in a year when you were actually making money."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her twin, "And there it is, you can't help being a giant dick, can you?"

"Please Quinn, I'm the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. Being a sociopathic dick is part of what makes me so charming. That and the money. You can get away with murder if you have enough money. So, is that a yes on the drink or—?" Charlie prompted waving the bottle. When Quinn shakes her head, she sighs and shrugs before pouring herself a drink. "You know there are only three bottles of the Dalmore 64 Trinitas in existence. I quickly snatched up a bottle years ago, won it an auction. Unfortunately, the other two bottles remain in Dalmore's personal collection. Such a shame really." Charlie mused as she took a seat in her chair.

Quinn scowled at her twin, "You think I care about how rich you are?"

"I think you wish that you could be me, that you could afford to throw money around like I do. I assume my personal accountants would have something to say about it but they don't. I could go out and purchase your old place of business, and it wouldn't hurt me. In fact, it's like chump change to me." Charlie continues crossing her legs and bringing the glass of scotch to her lips. She inhales deeply and smiles. "I can definitely smell the Colombian coffee."

Quinn pushed herself up and reached for her purse, "I don't know why you dragged me here for this. You want to brag about your wealth, go do with all the other millionaires and billionaires that you hang out with. I don't care. I've got work to do Charlie, you may think that you're the only that does real work but you're wrong. My work is just as important as yours is. So, I'm going to go do that." She wasn't going to continue to waste her time with whatever this was. She had gone ten years without seeing or talking to her sister and she would be happy if they could do that again.

Charlie takes a sip savoring the drink, "You can go back to your crappy little studio apartment, where you can make your silly little videos that get a few thousand views. You're barely scraping by with the AdSense revenue, and you still don't have any sponsors because you're under the radar. Or—"

"Or?" Quinn prompts as Charlie holds up her finger and takes another sip of the drink.

"I'm sorry, this is absolutely delightful. Are you sure you don't want any?" Charlie asks pointing at the bottle.

"Get on with it," Quinn responds acidly.

"Or you could go back to work at a real news organization. What you choose to return as, is completely up to you. If you want a prime-time spot, which I know you do, then you can do that. Or, if you want to be in charge then you can be. I imagine the pay check would be substantial increase from what you're making now."

It wasn't what she had expected. Charlie wasn't kind. She wasn't an idiot either. There had to be some sort of catch and she simply couldn't see what her twin could get out of this. "Why?"

"Does it matter?" Charlie asked crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

"Yes. Of course, it matters. I'm not taking your blood money."

"I haven't actually killed anyone you do know, that right? It's far to messy, and I would never actually get my hands dirty." Charlie sighed, and stands up. "I need someone to keep me honest. I don't trust you, I don't like you and I know the feeling is mutual. But people will kiss my ring, or suck my dick when I begin my presidential run."

"We're not old enough to run for president."

"No, we're not. But I will be by the time of the next election. Which is why you have four years to pick up the pieces of our shattered media and make people believe it again. You want to be a hero, then that's fine. You want to stop the bad guy, by making me the boogey-man, then I suggest you take the offer, or I'll find someone else. Of course, I'll know how to control that person—"

"I'm not going to be your propagandist," Quinn hisses.

Charlie smirked at the statement, "Good, you'd be terrible at it. I have an entire department to do that for me. I don't want you to. I want you to tell the news. The facts, you can inject opinion if you must. I can't stop you and it's a free country. But that means that when I do something good, you need to get over yourself and remove the stick that's lodged firmly up your ass and report that too. I'm only asking you to do your job."

"You won't interfere at all?" Quinn asks suspiciously. "You won't kill a story, you won't punish and lash out if we print a scathing commentary?"

Charlie shrugs. "So, long as it's truthful, I don't care. Chances are I'll be able to explain it away, again I have a huge public relations department. Now, I understand if you need time to think about it—"

"Fine."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, "Fine?"

"Okay, but the moment that you do something that seems remotely sketchy I'm going to leave," Quinn snaps at her twin. "I have journalistic integrity."

Charlie smiled brightly, everyone had a price tag and she had put enough pressure on Quinn that she'd done exactly what she had predicted. "I know you do," Charlie responds trying to keep her condescending tone at bay. "Kurt will be in touch with you about the details, now if you'll excuse me I'm going to enjoy another glass of this and then enjoy my amazing view."

Quinn nodded trying to keep her face neutral. Charlie would never be president not if she had anything to do with it.

~O~

"I'm fine Ruth, I know that you and Ray wanted me to stay another week, I get that. But I couldn't. I needed to get back to work. If you want to blame anyone blame Ray, I have all these ideas in my head and he wouldn't let me use the blowtorch, or a screwdriver. I needed my space." Charlie stared at the design on her tablet as she tapped the pen on the table at a quick pace. She felt odd, sitting out here on her balcony with only her tablet, but it had been a long time since she had just enjoyed the sunset.

'You went through a trauma, no one is going to fault you for taking your time to get back. And if they do you can fire them.'

Charlie was quiet for a moment before she slowly began to drag her pen across the screen, her hand a blur of movement as she actually planned out her idea. "I'm fine, I need to keep busy and I needed to get Prometheus's stock out of the gutter before Brittany decided to try and buy some of it up, just because she can. Don't worry Kurt has a mountain of paperwork for me to sign and read over. I'm safe, well mostly. I imagine I'll get a papercut before this is all over."

'Ray says to put mud on it.'

Charlie snorted a genuine smile crossing her lips as she puts the pen down and leans back in her chair. "Tell him I don't want to lose a finger due to infection. Putting dirt into a wound, sounds like a terrible idea. Don't worry I'll use my grossly overpaid physicians." The smile fades as a shadow hits her face and she looks up. "Ruth, I'm going to have to call you back."

'Charlie—'

Charlie pressed the button on her tablet ending the call and turned in her seat to look up at Santana who had her arms crossed as she floated there in her flaming glory. Charlie sighed and reached for a drink that was on the table. "Perhaps I should have had Kurt schedule for a meeting that kept getting pushed back. But this is progress. You haven't destroyed anything that I own yet."

Santana scowled, "The night is young. You disappeared."

"The Puckerman's whisked me away to their farm to recuperate. They live a very low-tech lifestyle. Also, I'm pretty certain we you know, broke up. Or at least something equivalent, you're not going to become my creepy stalker, are you? I mean let's face it—you're already sort of close." Charlie didn't flinch when Santana threw a fireball onto her balcony, it left a scorch mark but fizzled out immediately. "That was mature."

"It made me feel better," Santana frowns at this. Destroying Charlie's obscenely expensive things generally put her in a better mood. She could generally see the amusement or slight annoyance on Charlie's face while she watched her things being destroyed, Charlie didn't care for material things, not in the way that some people did. But she almost felt guilty for scorching her balcony. "You want to talk about mature? You're avoiding me."

"I broke up with you. Before all the craziness, I ended things with you. I know you maybe hoped that I had forgotten but I haven't. I don't know what you want me to say or do that will make you feel better. But I am under the opinion that you do need to get another girlfriend, though a tip—don't fall in love right away. That's how you end up with someone like Quinn."

Santana floats until she's above Charlie's balcony and slowly drops down, powering down so she could look at Charlie. "This isn't—"

"I have a rather large black book, of various names. If you wish I can have Kurt set up a date for you. Now if you'll excuse me I'm working on saving the world's climate change problem—" Charlie begins, getting ready to dismiss Santana entirely.

"No. You don't get to do that to dismiss me, like I'm Kurt or someone who works for you. We had sex, we made love several times, on this damn balcony twice." Santana resisted the urge to flame up as her emotions started to get the better of her. Charlie couldn't fake all that, she couldn't fake those moments that they had shared. "I'm not Elaine. I'm not trying to replace her either. I just—I know you're not Quinn. I mean you're a bigger bitch than she is but apparently, that's my thing."

"We've had this conversation before Santana," Charlie reminds her.

"And we're going to keep having it until you stop trying to hide behind flimsy excuses and tell me what's really going on with you."

"Nothing's going on with me. I have a life and you are no longer a part of it. I don't know how much clearer I can make this for you."

Santana huffed, "Because I told you that I loved you? That's why you're pushing me away? Look I get it, I know you're still in love with Elaine, I know you feel close to the Puckerman's because of what happened. I don't care if you don't love me as much as you love her, I just—" Santana waves her hands around trying to find the words. "I just want to know why?"

"Except I don't. Love you that is. I mean, as I mentioned before you were a teenage fantasy that I ran away with. Like a mid-life crisis except I'm thirty and I'm a relatively healthy individual. Let's not forget that you are my sister's ex-wife and honestly Santana everyone knows how much I loathe Quinn. Do you know how much it hurts her to see you fawning all over me?" Charlie asked. "I won, in the end after all Quinn's bullshit I won. You were merely a prize, to be won and now that I have. I'm done with you."

"You know, you're so full of shit. I can see right through you."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "Really? I had every intention of fucking you when you came to beg for my help, if Brittany hadn't saved you I would have gone through with it. Plus, I wouldn't have saved Quinn. I don't have time to deal with this Santana. If you want to believe that what I'm saying is bullshit then that's on you. I have things to do and more money to make. So, show yourself out."

"I always knew you were a bitch, but I never thought you were a coward." Santana shakes her head and storms toward the railing of the balcony. "Good luck with your solitude. I hope you can live with yourself, knowing that the only people that want to be around you only do it because you are paying them." She takes off, purposely making sure to scorch the ground when she does and doesn't look back.

Charlie shifts in her seat before finally looking at where Santana had been. She would need to replace the tiling on the balcony, Santana had cracked the marble. It was going to be yet another expensive fix. She taps the pen on her chair for a moment before exhaling and flipping through her contacts till she finds the name that she needed to talk to.

'Sup Chuck!'

"And people think that you're smarter than me," Charlie mutters under her breath angrily.

'You're in a mood—what did you do?'

"Nothing. I didn't do anything. I just need you to remind me that I am a good person."

'What does it mean to be a good person? Does it mean that you perform good actions? Who is the one that determines what it is to be good and what it is to be evil—?'

Charlie rolls her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for a philosophical debate. Just answer the question. Am I a good person, or not?"

'If you were a bad person and did one really good action, would it make you a good person? Is it a balancing test? Or more of a sliding scale—?'

Charlie hangs up without another word. She would have to figure this out herself.