A/N: My birthday was this last week so I'm dropping this chapter/intro earlier. No update schedule on this fic yet because I'm still writing it and I don't write chapters in order! Val's face cast is Naya Rivera. Hope y'all like it. Let me know what you think *hearts*

The biggest of thank yous to thegirlwhowritesfanfic, chaosinourbones, and thats-so-rhyan. They have been betaing this fic for me and are the loveliest of the loveliest.

"I wonder how am I still here
And I don't want to move a thing
It might change my memory"

Here With Me - Dido

I crept along the hallway, the flickering of the lights irritating me. I wiped the back of my hand along my forehead, cringing as I remembered the dried blood there. I breathed in, mixing in the smell of smoke and dust, suppressing the urge to cough. I reached our apartment door, seeing that the door was hanging on the hinges. I swallowed, praying that Los Lobos had gotten all they needed from here. I scanned the hallway one last time before slipping into the apartment, careful not to disturb the door.

The lights were dim, but the damage was obvious. I let out a small gasp at the state they left our place in. All the cupboard doors were opened. There were broken glasses and tableware strewn about. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. How had I been so blind? I tiptoed through the kitchen and down the hallway. Our living room matched the kitchen. Records were smashed to pieces. Our TV was thrown across the room; our couch had rips spanning the size of the cushions throughout.

I licked my lips and pressed on. I couldn't linger. This wasn't a social call. I needed to get in, get my stuff and get out. All before Los Lobos caught on to my trail. I pushed on, reaching our bedroom and went for the closet. I grabbed the only bag I could find and began shoving anything and everything I could find into it. I sped through the entire room, making sure to stop in the adjoining bathroom. I kept all my focus on the task at hand. There was no time to be sidetracked.

I straddled the bag in order to properly zip it closed. Once I'd managed to secure the overflowing bag, I took a moment to breathe. I glanced up finding myself face to face with a picture frame. One with a snapshot of the two of us. All my composure failed in that second. A burst of anguish fell from my lips and I screamed hysterically. I swiped at the frame and everything else on the top of the dresser. I screamed as all the contents went flying and crashing into the wall.

I continued to grab random items and whip them at the floor or the wall. I yelled, and I hollered. Anything to make the pain subside. Except it didn't work. I was out of control. My heart in shattered pieces. Betrayed by the love of my life. I ripped out the drawers from the dresser and flung them over my shoulder. Tears streamed down my face as I continued to tear apart our bedroom.

How could he do this to me?

I grabbed at one of his sweaters, preparing to rip it in half when my foot caught on the edge of the bed and I went down. I cried out as I landed on all fours and shards of glass penetrated my skin.

"Fuck!"

All my sorrow came to a head and I curled into a ball. My vision watered and I bowed my head. Within forty-eight hours my entire life fell apart. Everything I thought I knew turned out to be a lie. I was played. I was used as a pawn. Had he ever even love me? I wiped at my tears with my wrists and fought to control my breathing. My breathing hitched and I gasped to catch my breath. Everything was wrong. This wasn't how our lives were meant to play out.

We made plans. I had just finished school. My degree could've had us living anywhere we wanted. We stayed up so many nights, mapping out all the places in the world we wanted to see. I fisted the material of his sweater, watching as my knuckles whitened with the force. It'd all been a lie. Sniffing, I plucked out the largest glass pieces and tossed them away from me.

Using the bed as an anchor, I pulled myself back up and grabbed the bag. I slung the strap over my shoulder and gave the room one last look around. I would never be back here. I'd never see Nestor again. This was all I had left of him. My bottom lip quivered, another round of tears forming. I squeezed my eyes shut, quelling any more breakdowns. I kept a hold on his sweater, unable to let it go. It still smelt of him. His cologne.

As I manoeuvred around the mess, I stepped on the silver frame that caused my entire episode. Bending, I brushed away the debris and pulled the picture out. I stared at the scene. Nestor was standing between my knees while I had his head tilted to the left. My fingers were busy braiding back his hair, while we both laughed at something insignificant. It reminded me that there was a time when we were both happy. Even if it had all been a joke.

I folded the picture in half and slipped it into my back pocket. I'd keep it if nothing but for the reminder. The reminder that there was a time in my life when I had loved so fiercely I was blinded. You may think you've found your soul mate, but in reality, you haven't. A reminder that can never trust anyone. Only yourself. Others were all doomed to betray you.

~(MMC)~

Nestor sat on the edge of the bed clutching a small box in his hands. He made it back to Santo Padre relatively unscathed. A few minor scratches. He stared at a blank spot on the wall. Her words echoing in his mind.

Was it all a lie?

He shook his head. She was the only real thing for him. Everything else was a ploy, but not her. She'd been a surprise. He hadn't expected to find her part of the underground boxing ring. He never expected to fall in love. It happened too fast. He'd never regret any of it, but now it left him with nothing.

He spun the velvet box between his fingers. He had a plan. One that blew up in his face. He wished that Galindo hadn't made the call so early. If he'd given another month, at the very least, things could've turned out differently. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His fingers caught on a knot and he grimaced. He'd never feel her hand expertly sifting through his thick hair. He didn't even know how to braid. She always did it for him.

"Nestor?" He heard Miguel call from the hallway.

He jumped, scrambling to hide the box from view. He ripped open the drawer in the nightstand and dropped it in. As he pushed it shut, Miguel came around the corner and leaned against the doorway. There was a smile on his face.

"You did good." Miguel complimented.

Nestor stood, blocking the nightstand from view. He hoped Miguel hadn't noticed his haste. He attempted a smile in return for the compliment but could only manage a nod. Miguel eyed him with a calculated look.

"Father wants to congratulate you personally." Miguel straightened out leaving room for Nestor to come through, "He's down in the office."

Nestor reached his friend and together they walked side by side towards the west wing of the house. They walked in amicable silence. A perk of being friends for so long. Silences were never awkward, but comfortable instead. As they reached the main area of the house, Miguel paused at the top of the stairs.

"I forgot something back in my room." He told Nestor, "You go on. I'll meet you there."

Nestor nodded, offering his best friend a small smile and then made off in the direction of the office. Miguel hung back, pretending to head towards his room until Nestor was out of view. Once it was safe, Miguel backtracked. Entering the guest room, Miguel glanced around. Nestor kept things simple.

Miguel knew that Nestor was hiding something. It was obvious by the hurriedness in which he shoved the side table drawer closed. Nestor had tried – and failed – to hide something in the nightstand. Miguel approached the piece of furniture. Rationalizing his curiosity, he pulled the drawer open.

He and Nestor had been friends their entire lives. Growing up together. What he felt he needed to hide was beyond Miguel. Glancing down into the drawer, Miguel wasn't sure what he was looking for, but what he found wasn't anything he could ever imagine.

Having known Nestor since they were toddlers, it was surprising that he hadn't told Miguel about this secret. They knew everything about each other. Miguel reached down and picked up the black velvet box. He popped it open and found the dainty but beautiful engagement ring. It was simple and understated, but that didn't take away from the sheer elegance of it.

The band was rose gold and comprised of thin vines that folded out into leaves. The main jewel wasn't a diamond, as you would expect. No. The main jewel was a deep and vibrant ruby. Symbolizing passion and love. Along the leaves, there were hints of smaller jewels, all pink in colour. Morganite.

Miguel let out a breath. Nestor hadn't just bought a ring. He had this one made. Made with jewels that represented love and devotion. As he turned the box to examine the ring in a better light, something peculiar caught his attention.

A picture. Nestor and a woman. Both smiling. However, Nestor wasn't looking at the camera. He only had eyes for the woman draped under his arm. The woman's eyes were wide with laughter as she pointed at the person taking the picture.

Feeling as though he violated his oldest friends' privacy, he neatly placed both the picture and the box back into the drawer and slid it closed. Miguel retreated back into the hall, his mind racing. How come Nestor never mentioned a girl? Not even just a girl, but someone he intended to propose too. Someone he intended to marry.

The biggest question remaining was where was she? What had happened that Nestor felt the need tuck away something that significant? Miguel noticed that Nestor seemed conflicted since coming back, but he figured it was due to the nature of his assignment. Being away from home and pretending to be someone else for more than a year can do that to a person.

Miguel never once figured that it was a woman who had his best friend twisted up. Sighing, Miguel realized he'd need to keep a weather eye on Nestor. There was no room for weakness. Not now with Nestor's position as head security. As much as he wanted to support his friend. The family business was on the line. Nestor had been given a duty and accepted with fervour. Miguel briefly wondered if Nestor took the job so adamantly to run away from whatever caused the split with the woman in the photo.

Miguel shoved his hands into his tailored pants pockets. He wondered if Nestor was working up a way to tell him about his secret love. Miguel wanted nothing more than to know the whole story but knew Nestor well enough that he couldn't be the one to breach the subject. Nestor needed to be the one to bring it up. Miguel sighed. He'd do his best to let his friend know that he was here for him. Hopefully, fish out the information from him.