Reviews: Lluvia-the-Wolfgirl – Yup. And I was pretty much going for this dance to be the same as the one Imelda and Ernesto do in the movie, except with a slightly different ending of course ;) Johnlocked221B – They were Very cute! Ladyofthelake13 – Oh, he was so close. And Imelda is definitely getting close to that as well.
AN: Yes! Ernesto sooooooo has the ability to ruin things even when he's not there! Also, you may notice that I've changed a couple of relationships around here. I hope it's not too confusing.
A few seconds later, the shock faded and was replaced with anger. He had broken her radio. Héctor had destroyed something that was hers. For no reason! How dare he!? She had allowed him into her home, gave him shelter for the day, and this is how he repaid her? Vampire or not, she was going to give him a stout piece of her mind for this!
A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned against provoking him any further. Héctor was truly angry about something. If he turned that rage on her, there really was nothing she could do to defend herself. He was a vampire, a creature more dangerous and deadly than any human. He could kill her easily if she pissed him off enough.
Imelda ignored that voice. Firstly, she was too angry to care. Secondly, she didn't believe that he would hurt her anyway. And not just because of the promise he made. He would have had every right to when she had inadvertently caused that burn this morning. Or over the fact she'd been hitting him with her slipper. Hell, he could have done anything to her when she was thralled and Imelda wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop him. She wouldn't even have known.
Still, the fact she trusted Héctor not to hurt her didn't give him free reign to destroy her things. Especially over something as stupid as a song.
So she stormed into the living room, mouth open and ready to tell him off for what he'd done. Except the sight of him on her couch (shoulders hunched, head in his hands, fingers raked in his hair) made her pause. He was clearly brooding, or perhaps berating himself, over what just happened. Imelda thought it might be more the second option when she caught what he was muttering to himself.
"… Stupid, stupid… after all this time… still letting him get to you like that… idiota…"
That caught her off guard. Clearly this was more than just some silly song Héctor didn't like. Then Imelda remembered something. "You were a songwriter too?" "Who did you write for?" "A few of my songs did, but not because of me."
And she remembered exactly whose voice had been belting out the song that caused Héctor's reaction.
Was it possible? Could this man sitting on her couch really be the one responsible for the most famous song in all of México? It seemed impossible. But after everything else she had learned in the last 24 hours, Imelda wasn't sure she would claim anything was impossible.
"I didn't mean to lose my temper." Héctor said quietly as Imelda tried for something to say. His tone was level and even, but she could sense a welter of hidden emotion under it. He hadn't moved or even glanced in her direction. Still, she wasn't surprised that he knew she was there. "I'll… I'll find a replacement for your radio… somewhere…"
"I should hope so." She replied, adding a hint of teasing to her voice to mitigate the bite of her words. "It cost nearly 600 pesos." Imelda came around the side of the couch and sat next to Héctor. He still didn't look at her, only continued to bore a hole in the floor with his eyes. His mouth was drawn in a tight thin line that didn't really belong on his usual mobile and expressive face. After a moment of silence, Imelda said "You were the one to write Remember Me."
It was not a question and they both knew it.
Héctor made a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh except that it was far too bitter and harsh. "Don't be ridiculous. Everyone knows Ernesto de la Cruz wrote all his own songs." He rolled his eyes and turned his head away from her, leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch and planting his chin in his hand. "He was the greatest musician of all time, after all." Those words were said scathingly, not with the usual admiration most people had when speaking about the famous músico.
"He may have had the greatest eyebrows of all time, but I always found his style to be more than a little pretentious." Imelda replied. It was true. She could admire the songs in and of themselves, but she could take or leave the singer.
Héctor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and a tiny smile twitched at his lips. "I wish he could hear you say that. Such words, especially from a beautiful woman, would make his big fat head just explode."
Imelda ignored the warm feeling she got when he called her beautiful. This wasn't the time to get distracted. "You knew him well then?" A pained look crossed his face and he looked away again. Imelda studied his profile for a moment. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"It's…" Héctor sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "It's not exactly a pleasant story to tell."
"It probably isn't," she said with a nod, "since I suspect it has something to do with…" She trailed off, not sure it was polite to say what she was thinking.
"How I became a vampire?" he finished. He hitched a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Yes and no. He wasn't the one that Turned me, but his actions…" his free hand curled into a fist as he glared at the far wall. "They resulted in as much."
Imelda realized that Héctor truly hated Ernesto de la Cruz. Whatever it was that had happened between the two men had to have been a terrible betrayal. More than de la Cruz using Héctor's song without giving the proper credit. It was a wound that still hurt Héctor to this day.
She reached over and covered his fist with one hand. Héctor didn't twitch at the touch, didn't pull away, but he look down at their joined hands with wide eyes. "Like I said, you don't have to tell me. But when you're ready, I'll listen." She squeezed his hand and started to pull away.
He caught her hand gently before she could take it out of reach. Watching her face carefully, Héctor brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly. Imelda fought back a blush and the tingling along her skin that the courtly gesture caused. "Gracias. It means more than you know to hear you say that." He loosened his hold on her hand and sighed. "I just do not know where to start."
Imelda kept her hand in his, squeezing it once more. Dryly she teased, "At the beginning is always a good idea." That made Héctor chuckle softly. Imelda was pleased with herself to have drawn him out of his funk, even if it was only temporary.
"The beginning, huh? I suppose that would do…"
Héctor paused a moment to collect his thoughts. Imelda waited patiently. She wasn't going to push him since she knew exactly what it was like to relive painful memories. Finally he asked "Do you remember the girl I mentioned earlier?"
"The one you thought of as a sister? Socorro, right?" Imelda answered. Perhaps she was the root cause of what happened. Perhaps Ernesto de la Cruz had done something to this Socorro. And that lead to Héctor becoming a vampire? As cliché as it was, that could be the answer.
"Sí, Coco." He nodded as his expression softened and his eyes went distant. Imelda ignored the slight twinge she felt at his expression. "We grew up in the same orphanage, she and I. But she wasn't the only one there that I used to think of as family. There was a boy, too. A few years older than me. His name was Ernesto." The soft look faded, though the distant one remained.
"De la Cruz." Imelda murmured to herself. That fit in with what was known about the famous músico's early life and childhood. That he had been orphaned at a young age and grown up in an orphanage in some small town in the back of nowhere.
She hadn't meant to interrupt Héctor. She had thought she'd spoken quietly enough so as not to be heard. But clearly she had underestimated a vampire's hearing. "Oh, he didn't have that name back then. None of us had family names as children." He glanced briefly at her before continuing. "The Three Amigos, we were. Best friends. We did everything together. Chores, lessons, games."
"Caused trouble, too." Imelda put in with a smirk. She could easily imagine that. Héctor was very similar to her brothers and they had caused all sorts of mischief growing up.
"I neither confirm nor deny such an accusation." Héctor replied with a grin and a wink. Which was exactly the sort of response Óscar and Felipe would have given. Imelda rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Anyway. I always had a talent for music. The Padre, he taught me how to play the guitar. How to read and write music, too. And I taught everything I knew to 'Nesto and Coco." He paused once more, looking at the far wall again, but clearly not seeing it. "We'd go to the plaza just about every day. 'Nesto and I would take turns on this old guitar we'd found, and Coco would dance. We'd put on little shows for people, earn a few pesos for ourselves." He gave a heavy sigh. "Everything seemed so perfect back then."
Imelda waited a moment as he fell silent. Finally she asked "What happened?"
Héctor shrugged. "What happens to every child. We grew up. 'Nesto came of age, left town for a while. Just before it was my turn, he came back. Had this idea that we should go out on the road. Tour the country. Make names for ourselves." Héctor snorted softly. "Become famous."
"So the three of you left town together." Imelda said slowly, becoming more and more sure that her initial guess was going to be correct. To her surprise, Héctor shook his head.
"Oh, no. Coco didn't go with us. Remember, it was a different time, Imelda. The nuns wouldn't allow it. A young woman, unmarried, travelling in the company of two men, neither of which was her husband or real family? It would've ruined Coco's reputation." He hastily added "Not that anything would've happened!"
Oddly enough, Imelda believed him. No matter what anyone at the time thought, she was sure that Héctor would have done everything in his power to keep this Coco safe. Still, she couldn't imagine letting anything like that stop her from doing what she wanted. She was too headstrong. It was probably a good thing she lived in the time period that she did. "Did Coco have anything to say about that?"
"Not much. Just that she didn't want to hold us back. That we should go. And Ernesto… he was so sure that now was the time to seize our moment…" Héctor's face twisted up as he said the phrase. As if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Perhaps they did. He sighed again and shook his head. "So we left."
Imelda wondered why, in all that was known about Ernesto de la Cruz's life, there was never any mention that he'd had a partner in those very early days. Not that she didn't believe Héctor. She did. But why did no one remember this bit of information when so much of the músico's journey to stardom was known. "Then what happened? Did you and de la Cruz have a falling out?"
Héctor gave her an amused glance. "That's one way to put it. We must have been on the road two, three, years. But all that it showed me was that it wasn't the kind of life I wanted. Always on the move. Never staying anywhere for more than a couple of weeks. Living out of a suitcase. Playing for strangers." He shuddered dramatically. "No buena."
"How was playing for strangers any different than what you were doing as children?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She would have thought Héctor would revel in the act of performing.
"That was small crowds!" he pointed out. "In our hometown and with people we knew. People who knew us. Not preforming on a stage like a pair of monkeys for hundreds of strangers!" Héctor made a face at the idea. Then he ran a hand through his hair. "Ernesto loved it, but me? I wasn't cut out for it. I was homesick. I missed… our hometown, the people there. Even the nuns and the other children at the orphanage…"
"And Coco." Imelda added, noticing the one thing he had skipped over. She felt that twinge again. And she ignored it again as well.
Héctor hesitated a second. "Sí. I tried to write to her whenever I could. But we moved around too much to get any letters back. Ernesto and I started to get into arguments. He felt that I was giving up on our dream." He gave a derisive bark of laughter. "Our dream. It was never our dream. It was always his! The only reason I was around was because he couldn't do it without my songs." He glanced at Imelda sideways. "Not that he phrased it exactly like that. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. I want to go home. So I packed up my things and bought a train ticket. I thought Ernesto was going to blow up when he realized I was serious about leaving. But he acted like he understood. Like he was okay with it. He even wanted to toast to our friendship."
The words were bitterly said and Héctor's voice cracked on the last word. He put his head in his hands for moment, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Imelda wasn't sure if she should say anything at that moment. She sensed that the story was about to come to a head. That this was the moment that changed everything in Héctor's life. That this was what led to his current state.
Finally Héctor raised his head to look at her. His eyes were bleak and his expression almost haunted. "He poisoned my drink, Imelda. And I was too naïve… too blind…" his expression darkened, "too estúpido to notice!"