It has been two weeks. Two weeks since La Muerte had last seen Maria. Two weeks since she entered the Land of the Living. Hell, it's been two weeks since she even left her castle. The people of the Land of the Remembered have expressed their concern for their ruler, never having not seen her for such an extended period of time. But no matter how many invites she received, to both fiestas and bull fights, she stayed in her castle. She even casted several spells around the castle so Xibalba could not visit her. Every few days, she would feel him trying to prod at the protective charms but he always stopped a few moments later. He knew better than most that when La Muerte needed time alone, she truly meant to be alone.

Of course, despite the distance between herself and the quaint little town, she could not stop her thoughts from returning to Maria. The way she smiled and giggled at her joke as if it was something only the two women could understand. The way Maria would act so responsible one moment and then so childish the next. The way her eyes sparked in the starless night on that balcony in Arroba. The way those same eyes that showed such passion during that same night, shined with regret and unshed tears the following morning.

La Muerte sighed, grimacing at how it trembled at the end. She shook her head and slammed a fist down on the armrest of her throne. The chair gave a warning groan and several miniscule cracks littered the gold surface. Staring down at the damage, La Muerte cursed.

I need to calm myself, the goddess scolded herself. She could not act like this, like some teenager having her heart ripped apart by her first love.

But gods does it hurt. La Muerte tenderly touched the spot where her heart was and was shocked at how she did not feel the wetness of her life's blood on her fingertips. She pulled her hand away and stared at it in grotesque fascination as it traced the new imperfections on her throne with the gentleness of a feather.

"One simple night," she murmured, "caused all this pain. It is no wonder why immortals who play with the lives of men are frowned upon."

A deeper frown spread across her face as she felt an all-too-familiar pull on her consciousness. Twice Chuy called her and both times she ignored the summoning, even if it felt like her mind was being bashed into the sharp rocks of a cliff.

La Muerte huffed and tried to prepare herself for the pain that was sure to come. She just hoped that Chuy would give up after an hour. The last time she was eventually crying from the sheer agony.

She stayed in her throne, her teeth grinding together as the pulling evolved to an incessant wrenching. A tiny whimper left her lips, her fingers gripping the ends of her throne as she shook her head in vain to rid herself of the yanking of her subconscious.

Unable to bear it anymore half an hour later, La Muerte let out a howl of agony. She grasped her head, her sombrero falling to the floor without a whisper of a sound. I won't give in, she promised herself.

But no matter how strong her will power, the summons pounded against her mind until she finally whimpered a small, "Yes." Immediately, the pressure disappeared and she was able to lift her head with only a fraction of the pain thumping in her mind in protest of the movement.

Forgetting the sombrero still lying on the floor dejected, La Muerte waved a hand and marigold petals swirled around her. She noticed that some of them were less vibrant in color, curling inwards in the barest evidence of decay.

She could not ponder on the state of her petals however, as they were already evaporating into the air. Mary Beth took a cautious look around and saw that she was back in San Angel's cemetery. Blue eyes took in the state of her "grave" and she gasped. Some of the pink paint was chipping and a crack was just starting to spread across the headstone. She reached out and traced the imperfection, frowning in puzzlement.

An agitated bark brought her attention away from the grave. She saw Chuy sitting on his haunches looking up at her in moderate distaste. He gave a huff and began to walk away from the woman, not bothering to provide any explanation at all.

Mary could only sigh before hurrying over to follow the pig. When she was close enough to reach out and brush her fingertips against him, Chuy picked up his pace. Mary shook her head and started to walk faster, almost coming to a jog as the pig weaved between the crowds in the street with surprising agility.

The goddess knew where it was the pig was taking her before he started to slow down. She saw the town hall's clock loom up from the distance as she slowed to a wary stroll. She considered taking a sharp left and heading into a dark alley but knew that she would not have time to battle through the crowds before Chuy noticed her attempt at escape.

With a hard lump forming in the pit of her stomach and throat, Mary finally walked out of the crowds. Maria was sitting on the fountain like the first time they had spent time with one another, her hair a little disheveled and her fingers never stopping their playing of one another. The younger woman glanced up and a ghost of a smile passed on her lips before she glanced away.

In the background, Mary heard Chuy give a sad bark and trot away back into the crowds to give the two privacy. She walked up to Maria and sat down next to her, making sure to keep a foot of space between their bodies. "Chuy found me," she said lamely.

"I thought that you ran out of town the last time I sent Chuy to find you," Maria whispered. It sounded so tired and so small that Mary had thought that a child who had hurt herself was talking to her. Maria shook her head with a tiny laugh that was devoid of any humor, "I really should have made you tell me where you lived. At least then I would have known if you've left for sure."

"I was thinking about it." It was not the complete truth but Mary had every intention of never setting foot in San Angel for at least another hundred years.

"I'm glad you didn't." The statement was tentative, full of uncertainty and even a bit of fear. "Mary, please you have to understand. That night I-"

"If we're going to have this conversation," Mary interfered, the lump in her stomach growing into a rock, burning her with its frigid intensity, "we should do so in private."

Maria did not say anything but nodded after some hesitation. She got up on her feet and her right hand twitched as if it longed to reach out and grab Mary's. Instead it clenched into a tight fist and Maria waited for Mary to stand on her own.

The two walked towards Maria's home in awkward silence. Neither of them tried to break it, fearing that if they did then one of them would say something that will cause a scene. It took them far longer than ever before to reach the impressive mansion. They went inside and Mary saw that Joaquin and Manolo were in the foyer talking. They stopped with guilty expressions as they caught sight of the two, giving away the topic they were discussing.

"Mary, we didn't think you would be back," Manolo said.

"We thought you ran off," Joaquin added, his chin jerking up to include Maria in the "we." Unlike Manolo, Joaquin did not bother hiding the bitterness he felt or the accusing anger in his blue eye.

"As you can see I didn't," was all Mary could offer.

Joaquin took a step forward, his mouth opening to give an undoubtedly vicious remark.

Not that I don't deserve it, Mary found herself thinking.

Manolo squeezed Joaquin's shoulder to get the hero's attention. "Don't," he said in a voice that left no room for negotiating.

Joaquin glared at him and then Mary before slumping his shoulders. He pointed a finger at Mary and warned her, "We are going to have a serious talk afterwards. And don't you even fucking think that you can run away from it like you did with Maria." Mary didn't bother trying to correct Joaquin as she knew that the hero would not listen to her. With a scoff, Joaquin stomped out of the room. Manolo gave Maria a sad, apologetic smile and a stiff nod to Mary before following Joaquin.

"Let's talk in the library," Maria said. She did not wait for a response before walking out of the foyer herself.

Mary followed quickly, dreading whatever conversation Joaquin was waiting for them to have. She knew that she was not in the wrong but she also knew that Joaquin saw Maria as a close friend, perhaps even a sister of sorts.

Once they were inside the library, Maria shut the door with a soft click behind them. She went to take her usual seat but after a few seconds she got up and started pacing, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Mary followed her with her eyes as she sat down in a plush seat. She kept her hands settled on her lap, fighting the urge to play with the cuffs of her shirt.

After a minute of intense silence, Maria turned her head to look at Mary and then quickly looked away. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I already know that."

"No," Maria took a deep breath, stilling her feet so she could turn and fully face Mary, "you don't. I'm sorry for the way I reacted," she took another calming breath, "after that night." Her eyes lowered to her hands, unable to look at Mary's reaction. "How much do you remember?"

"How much do you want me to remember?" Mary could almost laugh at how this conversation was going. They were saying the exact same things they did in Arroba.

"A-all of it. I want you to remember all of it." Maria came over and looked like she wanted to sit next to Mary but with some reluctance, sat in her usual couch. "I don't regret it."

Mary was sure she heard wrong. "What don't you regret?"

Maria gave a sarcastic laugh, a hand lifting to wipe her brow. "That night! I don't … I can never regret that." She leaned back, her eyes closing as if she was recalling a precious memory. "I have never felt anything like this and I care for you so much. That night was beautiful and I-" she left off, neither women needing to hear the unsaid words.

"If you really don't regret it then why did you say what you did?" Mary tried to shove the hope that was blossoming in her chest but it still rang out in her words. "Why did you say that it was a mistake?"

The younger woman raised her hands and let them slap down against her legs. "I was afraid, Mary! If we were ever caught, do you have any idea what the town's people might do?" Tears of fear sprung in brown eyes and Mary could do nothing to resist the urge that told her to comfort the younger woman. She got up from her seat and sat next to Maria, pulling the woman into a tight hug. With the reassuring and strong circle of arms around her, Maria was able to continue. "Manolo and Joaquin warned me how dangerous it was to tell you about my feelings. If you didn't feel the same way, then so many things could go wrong."

Mary pulled back so she could look at Maria fully without breaking the contact. "Like what?"

"You might have gotten angry and tell the people about Manolo and Joaquin."

Mary sucked in a shocked breath. "How could you think that?"

Maria winced at the hurt expression on Mary's face and wrapped her arms around Mary's waist as if she was terrified of the possibility of the younger woman leaving. "N-no I just – Mary I panicked," she said desperately. "You also have a husband. If we took things further than we already did then what are you going to do about him?"

Blue eyes widened as Mary's brain and heart went still for a moment. How could she have forgotten about Xibalba!? Any guilt that she felt for lying to Maria, even after their night of passion, was shadowed by the mounting remorse in her heart. "I don't know," she finally answered.

"Then we're stuck." Mary looked down but Maria caught sight of the tear-filled eyes. "We can't do anything, not even fix our friendship, until you figure out what you want from this relationship."

She knew it was selfish and unbearably cruel but the hope and longing that bloomed in her heart could not be ignored. Mary gripped both of Maria's hands and before the younger woman could pull away, Mary pressed their lips together.

Maria made a startled sound in the back of her throat. She knew that she should push Mary away. Maria knew beyond all doubt that she needed for Mary to understand that they truly could not be together if she was still with her husband. Instead, she broke the kiss to pull Mary close, feeling the older woman's heart race alongside her own.

"I want this," Mary whispered into brown locks.

"Me too mi amor," Maria said back.

In the back of Mary's mind, she heard the rational side of her demanding to know what was she thinking. But as she pulled back to see Maria's eyes full of happiness, she quieted the voice with three simple words.

I'm loving her.