Mexico turned over and shifted as he woke. The first coherent thought he had was that he was quite comfortable. It felt like he was laying in a very soft bed covered in blankets; it felt incredibly cozy. The last thing that he remembered was his vision going black as he stood up, after that there was nothing. He was not certain how he got to bed, but he was happy to be there.
Mexico slowly opened his eyes, and tried to take stock of everything. He had intended to return to Santa Anna to ensure that his absence was not noted. If he had been gone for the whole night, then Santa Anna may have started to question what he was doing.
As he squinted at the light filtering in through the windows, he guessed that it must be mid-morning. He had slept entirely too long to go unnoticed, but he couldn't regret it. The ache in his head had finally disappeared, as had the blurring around the edge of his vision. Whatever had happened, he seemed to have healed with the unplanned sleep.
He tried to remember. There was a vague memory, clouded by sleep, of Guerrero laying him in bed and telling him that he loved him and to sleep well.
His heart jumped happily at the memory, and Mexico was frustrated with himself. He was supposed to be angry with Guerrero for the lies. It was true that he had been kept away by Iturbide, but there was still much that he had to explain. Mexico was deeply irritated with how quickly his anger had melted away.
He let out a long sigh before sitting up, intent on making a more dignified appearance than the night before. He felt an immediate pain in his back, like he was bruised. He groaned at the unexpected ache. It seemed that a good night's sleep had not erased all of his injuries.
He managed to get out of bed with another low groan. His constant activity the day before had kept him from realizing what pain he was in, and the awareness was setting in. The battle had been harder on his body than he had anticipated. He knew that he should have expected as much from how far he fell.
As Mexico picked up his jacket from the day before, he was struck by how dirty it was. There was discoloration around the sleeves from the gunpowder. The colors had been stained black. He could also see the dark spot where the stab wound had bled through. It would need to be replaced, since the stains would be difficult to wash out.
He pulled up his shirt to look at the wound, and was shocked to see that someone had replaced the bandages while he had been asleep. He was not certain if he should be impressed by the level of care or alarmed by how deeply he had slept.
If he could have changed his shirt, he would have, because he could see how it was stained with dirt, sweat, and blood. No wonder it had been so easy for Guerrero to tell that something was wrong. If Mexico could have seen himself from the outside he would have realized how much he had looked like he had come straight from a battle.
He sighed as he put the jacket to the side. He would have to live with looking so rough until he could return to Santa Anna. He was certain that there must also be a layer of grime on his skin, and decided not to glance in the mirror. He knew he was showing the weariness from the days that he had been awake, but he would have to live with it for the moment.
Though the layout of the place was unfamiliar, it was not difficult to follow the sound of voices and the smell of food. An ache in his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten since the morning before.
He found Guerrero and Victoria in the dining room speaking to each other over breakfast. Mexico felt both sets of eyes turn to him the moment that they heard his footsteps. He felt momentarily self-conscious of the eyes on him. It was difficult to explain what had happened the night before, and his own weakness. He tried to think of a graceful way to explain that he had worked himself into exhaustion.
But, before he could say anything, Victoria said, with a warm smile, "Good Morning. You look much better."
Mexico asked, trying to get his bearings, "How long have I been asleep?" He appreciated the welcome, but he had to figure out the situation. Everything after the collapse was a confusing blur.
Victoria gestured to the empty seat and said, answering the question, "Not that long, just through the night. Join us for breakfast."
Mexico was not going to argue with that. The smell of food was making him very aware of how hungry he was. It was nearly enough to distract him from the feeling of Guerrero's eyes on him. He knew there were things that were still unsaid, and would have to be addressed.
As soon as he sat down, he said, "I apologize for last night. I did not intend to-" He searched his mind for an appropriate term and landed on, "let my exhaustion get the better of me."
The euphemism got him an expression of slightly irritated patience from Victoria. Guerrero responded, "We've seen the wounds. It's more than exhaustion. When did you last eat?"
He could hear the restraint in the man's voice. The anger from the night before was bubbling right under the surface, but it didn't seem directed at him. The question made him distinctly aware of how well Guerrero knew his patterns. He replied with an attempt at a rueful smile, "I didn't just swoon at the sight of you."
He was glad when a plate of food appeared in front of him. His stomach made an unbidden noise that answered the question. He started eating, and managed to say between bites, "Not since yesterday morning."
He could see the way that Guerrero rolled his eyes at the answer, and tried to ignore it in favor of the food. There was something deeply irritating in knowing that Guerrero knew him well enough to predict his answer.
As he ate, Victoria started to speak again, "If I had known the state you were in, I would have waited to send that letter. I thought I gave you a day to rest."
Mexico appreciated the concern, though he couldn't help but wonder if Victoria had taken the first opportunity to get them in the same room. He replied, "I would have come anyway. I told you that I've made my decision."
He was certain that he had been clear that he would support the republic. Victoria nodded, "You did. I know you chose our side."
Guerrero said, almost to himself, "I knew that you would."
Mexico couldn't stop himself from scoffing. The small expression of faith seemed too convenient for a man who was trying to regain his trust. But, Victoria responded to the sound, by saying, "He did. He has insisted from the beginning that you'd see sense."
Every witty thing that Mexico wanted to say died in his throat. He hadn't expected it, though it fit everything he knew about the man. Guerrero added, "I knew you would not tolerate a tyrant." The look in his eyes was sincere, and that terrified Mexico. He could feel his heart leap at the trust Guerrero placed in him.
Mexico wished that he could say that the choice had always been that clear to him, and that he had not struggled to decide on treason. He said, knowing he sounded bitter, "Then you have more faith in me than I have in myself. I took far too long to decide."
He didn't feel the need to detail all of his doubts, or the fears that motivated them. He could not tell a pair of men who had risked their lives what he feared. Guerrero glanced at Mexico's hand on the table like he wanted to take it, and he said, "I always have."
Mexico couldn't decide whether he wanted to be touched. Something in his chest ached for the contact, and told him how good it would feel to have that reassuring pressure of a hand against his own. The hug from the night before came back to him clearly, and he remembered how good it felt.
He asked, without gathering his thoughts, "Have you?"
The silence that followed his words was deafening. He was uncomfortably aware that Victoria was also present, and that he should not have asked about Guerrero's feelings in front of him. He looked away from Guerrero to glance at Victoria. He wanted to be sure that it was the right moment.
Victoria seemed to understand his wordless question, and said, "I think you should talk to each other." He paused before adding, "If I leave will you actually talk this time? I do not want you to faint again."
Mexico could hear that it was a sincere question, and he gave an honest answer, "I promise that will not."
Victoria nodded, stood, and placed a hand softly on Mexico's shoulder. He said, "If you need me, I will be close."
There was something soft in his tone that made Mexico feel like Victoria was trying to protect him. The collapse must have worried Victoria. Mexico met his gaze and said, "I am fine."
That earned him a polite nod before Victoria left. Guerrero waited until they were alone to say, "But you aren't fine, are you?"
Mexico turned back to him and said, "How would you know? We haven't spoken in months."
It was an empty deflection. It was clear enough that he had a very hard night. Guerrero raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, "For one thing, you've been stabbed. And you have a cracked rib."
That was news to him. Mexico hadn't realized that something had happened to his ribs, but the pain in his torso made sense with it. He said, "I do? That damn Spaniard."
He did not elaborate on what had happened, and he couldn't be entirely sure when it had happened. The sharp pain in his side made him very aware that at some point Spain had done damage to his ribs. He was also very sure that explaining would only make Guerrero angry. He added, "Did you call a doctor?"
He was not sure how else Guerrero would know about his ribs, and it would explain the fresh bandages. The man confirmed it with a nod. Mexico put his hand to his side where the pain was the most intense. He supposed that he should be grateful for the tight bandages. He was grateful that someone had cared enough to call a doctor.
Guerrero continued, "For another, last night you told me-"
Mexico cut him off, "You cannot use that against me. I was compromised."
He remembered what he had said, and it was honest. But, if he had thought about his words first, he would not have stated his feelings so plainly. He saw the slightest flicker of a smile at the corner of Guerrero's mouth. It wasn't the reaction he expected.
Guerrero was still calm as he said, "You were honest though. I cannot ignore that you said you missed me, and I can see that I made a mistake by leaving you alone. I know when you are acting so that you don't look weak, and that's what you're trying to do right now."
Mexico could feel the firmness of his tone, and it made it harder to deny anything. If he wanted, he could deflect and say that he hadn't meant a word of it. But, it felt wrong to lie when dishonesty was the root of his anger. Instead, he said, "So were you. You told me that you loved me."
He saw the way that the man flushed, and guessed that he was not supposed to hear the words. Guerrero confirmed it when he said, "I thought you were asleep."
Mexico smiled at that, and answered, "I think that I was. But I still heard you."
He let the words sink in. Guerrero took a moment of quiet to collect himself before he said, "Well, that was honest too."
Mexico prepared himself to confront the heart of the issue. He could feel the glow in his chest when Guerrero looked at him and said the words. But, there was something that he knew he had to address.
He took a deep breath to brace himself, and said, "How can I believe you? You've said all of this before, and I don't know what was a lie."
He felt an unbidden sting at the corner of his eye, like the ghost of the tears he had cried the last time they had seen each other. The calm felt like it was disappearing, and the feelings of betrayal were resurfacing.
Guerrero sighed deeply, like he knew he had to finally discuss it. He said, "Ale, I never lied to you. I would never."
Mexico could feel himself getting angry. He had not expected such blatant denial. But Guerrero put one hand up to stop him from responding, and added, "I kept something from you that you had every right to know. I am deeply sorry for not telling you. I never meant for you to hear it from that man."
Mexico tried to process what the difference was. It was true that he could not remember a time when Guerrero had definitely lied to him. It had just seemed unimportant in the heat of the uncertainty and battle to ask about his family. He couldn't say that Guerrero was lying to him, but he did ask, "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me find out that way?"
If it was not a lie, then Mexico was not certain why it had been such a secret. Guerrero sighed deeply, and replied, "I thought about it so many times. But I was worried that you would be upset with me, and I selfishly avoided the topic so I wouldn't lose you."
Mexico wasn't certain how to feel. There was a kind of awareness in Guerrero's voice that he was describing what had happened. Mexico also knew that he wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt, especially after the care he had shown. Guerrero continued, "I know what I did wrong. But I never lied to you."
He laid heavy emphasis on the word never. Mexico took a deep breath, and tried to gather his thoughts. He took a breath and asked, "So, do you love me? Be honest with me now."
The words stuck in his throat. Asking so clearly felt like making himself vulnerable. Guerrero leaned back in his chair and let out a very long sigh, like he was frustrated. Mexico felt his heart sink like he had said something that he should not have. The man answered, "I wish you didn't even have to ask. I have always been honest with you about my feelings and my loyalty. If I had chosen anyone over you, I would have taken a pardon and gone home. There is nobody else I would be willing to die for, and I would give my life for you. No matter how frustrated I've been, I do love you."
Mexico could see the way that Guerrero's hand on the table curled into a fist as he tried to keep himself level. He knew the man well enough to know that there were stronger feelings that he was keeping in check. His voice rose as he spoke, and Mexico could tell it was conviction. The words came from the heart, and he could tell.
But, he seized on one detail, "So, you were frustrated?"
It felt good somehow to know that someone took issue with his behavior. It felt more familiar to be told that he had made a mistake. Guerrero said, "I never lost faith in you. But day after day I waited for you to come to us, and I did start to think that I had ruined everything."
He paused, but only for a moment. The pause was not long enough for Mexico to speak, because Guerrero quickly said, "Even if you do not forgive me, I cannot be the reason you turn your back on the republic. This is bigger than me. You know better than anyone that I didn't expect to lead."
Mexico nodded and said, "I know, I remember."
He felt like if he said too much, he would reveal far too much. He wanted to tell Guerrero how badly his heart ached, and how much he cared for him. But, it felt dangerous to admit it. Guerrero took his short answers as permission to continue to talk, "If you don't trust me then you should trust Victoria. He is a good man, an educated man. This is so much bigger than me, and I will gladly step aside if you really cannot trust me."
His hand had curled into a fist on the table, and it looked like he was forcing himself to say the words. Mexico reached out and took his hand. He massaged soft circles into the back of his fist until the hand relaxed. And then slowly, wordlessly, he returned the touch and intertwined their fingers.
Mexico said, choosing his words as wisely as he could, "Chente, I am choosing a republic. I will see this through, and I will be on your side."
He could feel his own heart pounding at the contact, but he tried to keep himself steady. The other man glanced from his hand to Mexico's face. He looked momentarily like he wanted to ask if he was forgiven, but decided against it. Mexico was glad that he did not ask, because he was not certain of the answer. He was certain that Guerrero had been honest in his convictions, but he was still not certain of his own feelings.
Guerrero instead decided to say, "That is all I ask from you. I just want the chance to win your trust again."
Mexico nodded, wordlessly confirming that he was willing to at least give him the chance. There was a moment of long silence with their hands touching. Mexico felt like something had fallen into place again. Then he said, slightly pained that he had to, "I really must leave soon. Santa Anna will notice my absence eventually."
Guerrero smiled and said, "You may want to wash and change before you leave. You look like a butcher and smell like you spent two days on a horse."
His glance at the blood-stained shirt made his meaning perfectly clear. Mexico replied, "I think that's enough honesty for one day."
Then he looked down at himself, and took stock of how dirty he was. Then he added, "I could use another shirt." He knew that he was not going to be able to replace the jacket, but lessening the impact was a good idea.
Guerrero said, without hesitation, "You can have one of mine."
Mexico smiled to himself at the idea, and said, "Thank you."
Once he was bathed and dressed again, Mexico felt much more composed. He felt clean, and much more comfortable. It also felt much better to put his mind to rest about Guerrero. Even if he wasn't completely embracing the man and letting him back in, it felt like some horrible weight had been lifted off of him.
He tucked his face into the shirt that Guerrero had given him, and closed his eyes for a moment. The smell was so familiar. It brought back warm memories of quiet moments together. It was slightly too big on him, but it was incredibly comfortable. He felt a pleasant warmth in his chest as he thought about it. He was glad that he could think of the man fondly without guilt and anger clouding his feelings.
He wished that he could stay; he understood everything much more clearly with Victoria and Guerrero. He knew that he had to return to Santa Anna, and that his presence was causing enough trouble already. If Santa Anna wanted to ingratiate himself to the emperor, then there was no better way to do it than to reveal treason. For his own sake, Mexico had to return and make some excuse for the time he had been gone.
He finished dressing, and took one more moment to appreciate the obvious care with which he had been treated. If nothing else, he could see that they could be trusted with his safety when he was compromised. Something about certainty made him feel at peace in a way that he had not in months. It was close to contentment, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.
He found both Guerrero and Victoria waiting for him. Victoria took the initiative in the conversation, "I wish you did not have to leave us, but you know how to write to me when you need us."
He put both of his hands softly on Mexico's shoulders in a way that felt supremely paternal. He said, meeting Mexico's gaze, "You have our support, you just need to ask."
Mexico had not anticipated how comforting it felt to have someone be so concerned about him. He felt like he had sold Victoria short before, and underestimated his commitment. He took a breath and then said, "If Agustin decides to call me back to the capital, will I have a way to contact you?"
It seemed to him that it was only possible to send letters when they were in the same city. And he had a nagging feeling that the emperor would eventually change his mind about the post in Veracruz. He anticipated that it would be an issue, but Victoria said reassuringly, "I have my friends there too. I will make sure that you can always reach me if you need me."
Mexico wasn't certain what to say, so he nodded to make sure that it was clear he understood. Victoria stepped aside to allow Guerrero his goodbyes.
Mexico said, "Chente-"
Before he could finish the thought, the man pulled him into a hug. Mexico thought for a moment that he should say that it was too much of an intrusion, but it would be a lie and he would rather not ruin the moment. Guerrero spoke in his ear, "I promise that I will win this for you. They are not going to let you get hurt again."
With momentary boldness, Guerrero tightened the hug. Mexico knew he could push him away or keep the distance. But, his heart told him to say, "I know you will. You've never failed me."
He tucked his head into Guerrero's shoulder before realizing that he was letting himself be far too affectionate. It was an old muscle memory, and he knew that he should be more careful. He could feel the man holding onto him like he didn't want to let him go.
He added, softly, "You have to let me go." Slowly, Guerrero let him go. Mexico gave him one more long glance before returning to his horse.
It was late morning by the time that he returned to the house in Veracruz. He did not have a clear plan of what he was going to say to explain his long absence. Though, he felt like it may be possible to avoid the conversation on the whole, since Santa Anna had not asked where he was going when he left.
He was surprised that the general was not waiting for him the moment that he arrived. Others would have noticed his absence and taken the first moment to confront him. He thought that perhaps Santa Anna had not noticed that he was gone.
He dismounted and led his horse quietly to the stable. As he entered, he nearly ran directly into his general, who had apparently been checking on his own horses. Santa Anna said, as soon as he saw him, sounding suspiciously calm, "Oh, you've returned. I wondered when you would be back."
Mexico cleared his throat and came up with an answer, "My errand took longer than I expected."
It seemed like a strange excuse to offer when he was clearly wearing different clothing and had visibly rested since the day before. But, the man smiled like he was not going to question any of the details, and responded, "Then I am glad that you are back. I was beginning to miss you. I was about to go for a ride. Will you join me?"
Mexico glanced down at the bloodstain on his jacket, which felt like a clear enough reason not to get back on a horse. He responded with a shake of his head, "I do not think so."
He expected that to be the end of the conversation, until Santa Anna leaned closer and said, "I suggest you do. You will find it enlightening."
Mexico could feel the conspiratorial undertone in his voice, and it was intriguing. He knew that there was something that Santa Anna wanted to tell him, and the invitation to ride was just an excuse. He stripped off the bloodstained jacket, which would have looked suspicious and said, "Very well."
He was not particularly happy to spend more time on horseback, but whatever Santa Anna was hinting at seemed important enough to exhaust his horse a little more. He mounted again, and followed the man out.
The ride was quiet at first, and it wore on Mexico's patience. It felt like he had already had a taxing day, and he did not want to humor the charade. After a few more minutes of quiet, he said, "Where are we going?"
He didn't get an immediate response. Instead, Santa Anna turned and let him slightly farther away before glancing around. Mexico got impatient and said emphatically, "Antonio, answer me or I am going back."
Santa Anna took one more look around, like he was making sure they were alone. Then he turned his horse to face Mexico directly and said, "I know where you were."
The words were shocking enough that he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. It was too blunt to avoid, and too difficult to deny outright. He felt like Santa Anna had to be lying to get a reaction, but he realized a moment too late that he had already given him one. Santa Anna's smirk told him that he had already given something away, and he would have to recover with a convincing cover.
The man said, clarifying, "Or rather. I know who you were with."
Without another word of explanation, he dismounted. Mexico decided to take the action as an invitation to have a discussion, though the man had not said it explicitly. He had a feeling that the ride had been a pretense to speak somewhere that no one could hear them.
He dismounted and gave the horse one affectionate pat before turning to Santa Anna. He decided to call the man's bluff, and said, "No, I don't believe that you do."
He was certain that it was a ploy to get him to say where he had been. Santa Anna raised an eyebrow at his blunt denial, almost like he was impressed with the gall. Then he said, "Oh, I do. And it was a surprise to me, because I thought Guadalupe Victoria was still in jail."
The name was enough to make Mexico's bravado ring hollow. The smug certainty in Santa Anna's face was frustratingly warranted. Mexico took a deep breath in through his nose and said, "So you had me followed?"
It was the only conclusion he could draw about how Santa Anna could know. Though that would have surprised him, because there had never been the sense that there was someone behind him. He must have had a very good spy.
But Santa Anna shook his head and said, "No, I didn't. But I did see the letter in your room."
Mexico groaned to himself. He understood what had happened, and he realized he should have expected it. A letter that was a sign of treason sitting unattended was inviting someone to look at it. Santa Anna added, seeming to anticipate what Mexico would say next, "I also did not go through your room while you were gone if that is what you are thinking. I went to see if you had returned."
Mexico wasn't sure that he believed in Santa Anna's intentions. But, there was no denying that he had been meeting Victoria, and that the man was perfectly aware of it. He thought bitterly that he could have stayed with Guerrero longer if it had made no difference.
He asked, trying to gauge whether it would be worth it to immediately take his horse and return to Victoria, "So, what now? Are you going to tell Agustin what I've done? It would convince him of your loyalty."
Something told him that if Santa Anna wanted to betray him, he could have done it without giving him fair warning. There was no reason that he had to tell him. Santa Anna calmly said, "If I wanted the emperor to know I would have said something where his spies could hear us. I know he is having me watched because he does not trust me."
Mexico had to repress his urge to smirk. It was ironic that he would tell him that, given that Iturbide had tasked him with spying. Santa Anna filled the silence, "In fact, I thought you might be here to inform the emperor about my actions. Imagine my shock when I discovered that you're more successful at treason than I've been."
He finished the sentence with a knowing wink. He sounded amused by the situation in a way that Mexico certainly was not. It felt like he was taking treason lightly, but he had at least had the awareness to choose a private conversation.
Mexico said, deciding to take a risk and say, "You weren't wrong. I was supposed to be reporting on you."
For the first time, the shadow of worry passed over the man's face. Mexico let him experience the uncertainty for a moment before he said, "But I've been telling him that you've been loyal."
He knew that he was presenting it as a mercy, though he had very little concrete proof of Santa Anna's plans. The man had certainly not failed in leading so far, so he must not have been actively trying to undermine the cause. Santa Anna smirked at that, and said, "I have been loyal, my dear. I told you when you got here, I am devoted to you. I am not loyal to a man who is planning to replace me at the first opportunity. I'm surprised that he has trusted me with you as long as he has. I expect that won't last."
Mexico raised an eyebrow. If he was so loyal, then he had an interesting way of showing it. His protestations of devotion seemed rather hollow. It seemed much more likely that the possibility of being removed from command had wounded his pride.
Mexico asked, deciding to cut through all the niceties, "So, why are we speaking? So you can tell me that you know my secrets?"
To his great frustration, Santa Anna seemed to have a prepared answer. He said, "I will be by your side until my last breath. But to do that I need to know what side you are on."
Mexico scoffed, "Promises are easy."
Santa Anna took a step towards him and said directly, "Do you want to overthrow the emperor? Tell me you do and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. You know I am capable of it." Mexico had not expected the questions to be clear-cut. It put the options in a stark light, and made it perfectly clear what he was supporting.
He took one more moment to consider what he was saying. It could all be an elaborate trap to expose his betrayal to Iturbide, but something in his gut told him it was not. Santa Anna may be self-aggrandizing, but he at least seemed sincere.
It was a risk, but he answered, "Yes, I do." Then, to make himself perfectly clear he added, "And I do not want someone else to take his place on the throne."
He wanted to make sure that the limit was clear, before another ambitious man tried to make himself king. The words felt vaguely prophetic as soon as he said it.
Santa Anna chuckled and said, "You have so little faith in me."
Then, he reached out and took Mexico's hand, and the gesture caught Mexico off guard enough that he did not pull away. Santa Anna said, "And now we have each other's secret. Like lovers."
Mexico scoffed again, though he couldn't help but feel his heart beat faster. He could not deny that there was a handsome man who was attempting to charm him. To deepen the impression, the man brought the hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on Mexico's knuckles.
He then clasped Mexico's hand with his other hand and said, "Now, you must tell me how to contact Victoria."
Mexico laughed at that, though it was only a short burst of laughter. The entitlement was so egregious that he could react no other way. He said, genuinely amused, "Do you think it is that easy? You make me promises and I tell you everything?"
The man gave him a skeptical look and refused to release his hand. He replied, "I need to make contact, and you know how to. If you want me to help you, then you must tell me."
Mexico raised an eyebrow and said, "Must I?"
He was certain that he could not divulge Victoria's location so easily. It was not his information to give, and he knew that Victoria would see it as a massive violation. Before Santa Anna could push him further, he said, "If you give me a letter, I can be certain that Victoria will receive it. If he wants your help, he will respond to you."
It seemed like the best way to broker a connection between them. He would not force Victoria to take the risk, and he would not presume that he could. But, providing the link between them would be enough, and then they could make their own decisions. Santa Anna seemed satisfied, and he said, "Oh, I am sure he will see my value."
Mexico had a book on his lap, and was trying to read. His mind had trouble focusing on the words on the page, since it was still too full of thoughts of Guerrero. The more he reflected on the morning, the more certain he was that he had mended something with Guerrero that had been weighing on him.
There was not the weight in his chest in the way that there had been before. He still felt anxiety at the uncertain future, and the feeling of peace surprised him greatly given the circumstances. He hadn't been aware of how much it had been a burden on him.
If he didn't think it would look suspicious, he would have smiled widely at the outcome of the day. He ran his finger along the edge of the pages, and allowed himself a very small smile. It felt like everything was in motion, and he could feel some hope that a republic was just over the horizon.
He heard the quiet sound of footsteps, but he expected as much. Santa Anna seemed to have gotten attached to him since their conversation, and was not that far away from him at any given moment.
As he turned, he was not surprised to see the mortal approaching him. But he was surprised at the crisp letter in his hand. Santa Anna moved closer and then slid the letter between the pages of Mexico's book. The casual observer might think that it was a playful way to pass a note, and think nothing more of it.
The man said, softly enough that only Mexico could hear it, "For our mutual friend. I trust you will get it to him."
Mexico nodded, and replied in the same hushed tone, "I will. And he will decide if you are a friend."
He felt Santa Anna lay a hand on his shoulder as he said, "Have some faith in me. I know how to make an impression." Santa Anna then planted a very soft peck on Mexico's cheek.
Mexico replied with an amused smile, "I noticed."
"You're going to deny it after that? I'm supposed to believe that he kissed you on the cheek platonically?"
Mexico could feel America's judgmental look before he even turned to meet his eyes. It wasn't a new accusation, and it did not surprise him that it was coming up. He was already prepared to respond. He said, "Just because you don't kiss your friends doesn't mean we're all like that."
He paused and he could see that America was primed for a response. He cut him off by saying, "You conveniently forget that I exiled him several times."
Without missing a beat, America responded, "You've kicked me out before too, and you still love me."
Mexico was certain that if he had compared the two so boldly America would have taken great offense. But since he had said it, America would avoid the implications. Instead he said, "You are being needlessly jealous. There was nothing to worry about."
No matter what the nuance of his relationship with Santa Anna, Mexico was certain that he didn't want to give America a reason to be jealous. The blonde looked like he wanted to pout, but had some restraint. He said shortly, in a tone that Mexico found hard to read, "We will see. If you're honest."
Mexico was not sure how to interpret his curtness, since it seemed mildly threatening. But, he decided to avoid it to continue telling the story. He continued, "I didn't get to see the results of those machinations, because Iturbide wanted me back in the capital. He decided that he would send my brother with a message for me."
Mexico watched him approach from an upper window, and tried to imagine what was important enough that Iturbide had decided to send Texas as a messenger. Santa Anna followed his gaze out of the window, and said, "Who is that? And should I prepare a welcome?"
Mexico glanced at him, and saw that he only seemed mildly interested in Texas' presence. But, he was a man who knew not to be intentionally rude. Mexico knew that there was probably no need to be ceremonial about the encounter, since his brother was only bringing him a message. He replied, "He's my brother, and no you don't. He's just here to see me."
He caught sight of the look of intrigue on Santa Anna's face and added, "I'll introduce you."
That got him the slightest smile. He was certain that Santa Anna's interest in his life was utilitarian, but he was flattered that he took an interest. Mexico turned to look back at his brother, and he said, more to himself than to Santa Anna, "I am sure that the emperor is going to make me return."
It seemed like the most logical conclusion, that Iturbide sent his brother to fetch him. Mexico had the sense that it was only a matter of time before Iturbide became uncomfortable with the distance. It had granted Mexico the latitude to break away from the emperor, and he had taken full advantage of it already. He was certain that Iturbide would eventually realize the risk that he was taking, and it seemed that the day had come.
Santa Anna said, "Do you think he knows?"
He didn't have to clarify what he meant. Mexico knew he meant the letter from Victoria that was secreted away in one of the desk drawers, the one that expressed careful interest in Santa Anna's support. Mexico shook his head and said, "If he did, he would have sent someone more threatening than my brother. You're safe for now."
Santa Anna didn't try to repress the look of amusement at his deception. He pulled on his jacket like he was straightening it, and said, "Let me give your brother a welcome then."
Texas looked mildly confused as he looked around the front hall, like he found something about the bustle of soldiers coming and going perplexing. Mexico took a moment to consider his brother. He looked well rested, and Mexico felt a pang of envy.
But, it was to be expected because he made a point of not asking his brothers to fight. It would be dangerous, and he didn't want any of them getting hurt. If anything, Texas' appearance told him that it was working, and that his brothers had been safe in the capital.
Mexico descended the stairs and said, "Diego, is there a reason for this visit?"
His brother turned at the sound of his name, and met Mexico's eyes. Texas then fumbled in his pockets for a moment before producing a letter. Even from a distance Mexico could recognize the emperor's handwriting. Texas said, "I'm supposed to give this to you. And then you're supposed to come back with me. There's a carriage outside already."
He said it with such certainty that Mexico was sure that he was repeating Iturbide's instructions. He was in no mood to be argumentative, since it would frustrate Texas unnecessarily and he'd been prepared for the emperor to call him back for weeks.
Mexico took the letter and opened it. He wondered if Texas had any idea what it said, or if he had been simply given a letter and simple instructions. Mexico shifted his weight as he read the letter.
He could feel eyes on him, waiting for him to finish reading. The letter itself seemed like it was crafted to be affectionate, to tell him that he was badly missed and that Iturbide ardently wished to have him back. It all seemed very carefully worded, and far from sincere, but it was what Mexico was expecting. He had already imagined the thought process that had led to the letter.
There was the slightest hint of suspicion. The sentence, "I would like to speak to you personally about what you have seen in Veracruz" made him think that there was a conversation waiting for him.
Santa Anna said, discreetly looking over Mexico's shoulder, "Is it what you expected?" Mexico immediately folded the letter so that he could not read it. He was more amused than annoyed, since he expected it from the man. There was little worth hiding in the letter anyway.
He answered the question, "Yes, it is. The emperor is calling me back to the capital, and I should go."
Texas added, "Please don't refuse. I don't want to force you."
Mexico scoffed and said, with a raised eyebrow, "I would love to see you try."
He watched his brother go pale, and struggle for a response. Mexico added, to end his concern, "Do not worry, I am going to come."
He saw the look of relief pass over his brother's face. Santa Anna cleared his throat and said, seemingly speaking directly to Mexico, "You should at least stay for one more dinner."
Texas wrinkled his nose like something was bothering him, though Mexico could not think of a reason. Texas said, "No, it's a long trip and we should leave immediately."
Mexico found his tone odd, but he was not going to question him in front of Santa Anna. Instead, he said, "Well, Antonio, I guess I must depart."
In one smooth motion, the mortal took Mexico's hands in his own. He said, "Farewell for now."
He brought Mexico's hands to his lips for a brief moment, and kissed them lightly. Then he said, with a knowing smirk, "I am certain that we will see each other again soon."
Mexico gave him one more smile before turning and following his brother out to the waiting carriage. It felt odd to be leaving so unceremoniously, but he tried not to question it. He was certain that Texas had no answers to give him, since he was sure that the emperor had told him nothing.
Once they were alone, Texas said, "You could do better than him."
The brusque words were surprising, especially given how long it had been since they'd spoken. It seemed like particularly uninvited advice. Mexico asked, "What do you mean?"
He expected Texas to realize that he had overstepped the bounds of their relationship and to back down from the comment. But instead he answered the question without flinching, "I cannot explain it, but I do not like him."
Mexico rolled his eyes. He replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm, "Well that seems like a solid reason."
Texas took a deep breath and tried again, "He's too interested in you, and you can do better. You already have Alfred."
Mexico had no desire to explain that his couple nights with America had not been a commitment. The feelings were complicated, and he did not owe his little brother an explanation. He replied shortly, "It isn't like that anyway."
He was slightly perplexed by the assumption, since Santa Anna hadn't done anything except a few light kisses, always on cheek or hand. Texas clarified, "He seemed insistent that he wants to see you again. Unless he meant something else by that."
Mexico leaned back against the seats. Iturbide had certainly spared no expense and the feeling of the plush velvet seats was very pleasant. Mexico thought that it was better this way, since the journey by horse likely would have hurt his ribs. Iturbide couldn't have known that, but he appreciated the comfort anyway.
He shook his head in response to his brother and said, "He didn't. He was just trying to be charming."
As the carriage started to move Mexico contemplated the fact that nothing would be expected of him, so he could rest. He reached over and pulled the curtain closed over the window. He let out a quiet contented sound as the light dimmed and he settled into the seat.
Texas continued talking, "It's better not to get attached anyway. I heard Iturbide talking about replacing him." It was not news to Mexico, and it was one of the factors he was expecting to force Santa Anna's hand. But it was strange to get the news from his brother, who had seemingly been absent from much of the politics. It was better that way, since he was young and deserved to have a little bit of a childhood.
Mexico said, "Diego, don't worry about it." He was surprised at how soft his voice sounded.
It also seemingly caught Texas off guard, and he said, "What?"
Mexico explained, "You don't have to worry about what the emperor is saying. I am handling it."
He took a moment to pause before adding, "I'm not going to burden you with that responsibility now that we're independent."
Texas looked like he did not know how to respond. After a long moment of silence, he said, "Thanks, I guess."
Mexico could feel his eyelids getting heavy. Something about the swaying of the carriage was making him feel every bit of his exhaustion. But, he clarified, "You are fifteen."
Texas corrected him sharply, "I'm sixteen."
Mexico shook his head and continued with his point, "Young enough that you shouldn't have to deal with all of this. Independence was supposed to be about freedom. So let me handle this."
Mexico felt his eyes starting to close as he waited for a response. Until Texas finally said, "You haven't been home."
He sounded almost hurt, and Mexico couldn't quite place why. But, he agreed, "I know. I've been here fighting. Why don't you tell me what I missed?"
Texas' face lit up at the prospect, and he started talking about his letters and how quiet life had been in the capital. Mexico listened, trying to remember the details. But the sound of his voice combined with the comfortable seats was making it hard to focus. Mexico gave into the heavy feeling of his eyelids and closed his eyes.
Texas stopped what he was saying and asked, "Are you listening?"
Mexico nodded, but didn't open his eyes.
He was trying his best to listen, but he felt like he was slowly giving in to his own exhaustion. He nodded off somewhere in the middle of Texas describing his interactions with Guatemala.
He woke with a groan and looked around groggily, trying to establish how long he had been asleep. He was surprised to find that his head had been on his brother's shoulder, and he seemed to have leaned against Texas as he slept.
He tried to decide whether it would be worth it to ask his brother how long it had been and to reveal how deeply he had been asleep. Though, judging from the position he had been sleeping in, it was no secret to his brother.
But, Texas said, before he could ask, "You've been asleep for a while. You must have been bored."
Mexico replied, "Oh no, not bored. I was very tired. Battle is exhausting."
He tried to straighten up, but the movement caused a twinge in his injured ribs. He winced and put his hand to the spot. Texas noticed and said, "Are you ok?"
Mexico did not feel like he should worry anyone else by being honest about how close Spain had gotten to him, least of all his brother. So he deflected, "I'll be fine. It's just an injury; it'll heal."
Texas shook his head and said, softer than a rebuke, "You've never learned to be careful."
To which Mexico volleyed, "It's part of my charm." His brother rolled his eyes.
But the look of amusement lasted only a moment before Texas' face seemed to fall. He said, "I was hoping that we could talk."
He sounded sincerely crestfallen, and it made Mexico feel bad for sleeping when his brother had wanted the time with him. He said, "We can still talk."
Texas pushed back the curtain enough to see out the window. He said, looking out, "We don't have much time left before we get there."
Mexico succeeded in sitting up without making his rib ache. He felt like he may have robbed Texas of the opportunity for a conversation, though he had not intended to fall asleep. He asked, "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"
It seemed to him that someone would only be so disappointed if there was something pressing. He was not surprised when Texas nodded and said, "There was actually something I wanted to ask you."
Mexico could feel a twinge of pain in his neck from the position he had slept in. He gently stretched his neck, and said, "You can ask. We still have time."
Texas seemed to swallow heavily before he said, "Will you forgive me? I know that the war was stressful, but I want to be able to trust each other."
Mexico thought for a moment about the question. He still suspected that Texas had given Spain information during the war, but he didn't think it was possible that his brother was a spy. Without Spain twisting his arm, he would be reliable enough. Mexico gave him an honest answer, "I don't think you are betraying me to Tony now. We can start over."
He stopped short of saying that he trusted him. It was enough to give him the chance to earn that trust back. Texas bit his lower lip like he was thinking before he finally said, "I wouldn't ask you for more than that. I just want the chance."
Mexico felt the carriage beginning to slow as he said, "You have it. Make good use of it."
He had the feeling that he would not get the opportunity to speak much longer once the carriage came to a stop. If Iturbide was so anxious to get him back, then there was no question that he would want to speak immediately.
As he expected, a soldier opened the door as soon as they stopped. Mexico could see from the look on his face that he had clear instructions from Iturbide. He decided to not cause the man the stress and simply asked, "Does the emperor want to see me?"
The soldier, who had stuck his head into the carriage to make sure he had the right person, nodded and said, "He does."
Mexico turned to Texas and said, "I suspected as much. I'll see you later."
Iturbide was in his office, and to Mexico's surprise, he was alone. Mexico had prepared himself to speak to Bustamante as well, since he was the emperor's right hand man. But his absence was not disappointing. Mexico said as he walked in, "You must have missed me."
Iturbide's smile at the comment looked slightly forced as he replied, "Indeed I did. I realized that I shouldn't have let you leave in the first place."
Mexico could guess why he regretted it, if any news of the possible threat to the empire had gotten back to the capital. He decided he was going to push the issue. He said, "I don't think it was a bad decision. I prefer to fight."
He contemplated sitting while they had this conversation, but Iturbide had not invited him to. It was a question of showing respect to him, and he decided that it was important to show respect for him in the moment. Even if he had spent time planning a coup, showing that his opinions had changed would raise questions. Instead, he stood and waited for permission.
Iturbide glanced at his face in a way that felt almost pointed, and said, "But I do not want you to be hurt. And I can see that you were. I should have known better than to put you in danger." Mexico was suddenly aware of the fact that he was still visibly injured, and that there was a scab on his forehead.
He wanted to insist that he was not that badly injured, but any such protestation would fall apart the moment he moved in a way that hurt his ribs. But, something about the concern felt particularly insincere. He could not read the man's expression, but he was certain that it was a deflection.
The choice to bring him back had definitely had little to do with his injuries, since Iturbide had no way to know about it. He suspected the decision had been made with other concerns in mind, and he would prefer for Iturbide to voice them.
He said, "Oh, but that isn't really why you wanted me back. I think you want me where you can see me."
He said it with a playful tone so it didn't sound like an accusation that he was monitoring him to prevent rebellion. Iturbide smiled at his wit, and the feeling in Mexico's chest told him that it was genuine. He answered, "You caught me. I wanted to be able to see your face again."
He stepped out from behind the desk and moved closer to Mexico. He touched Mexico very lightly under the chin. It felt careful but affectionate. He sounded far more serious as he said, "Are you still with me, Alejandro?"
Mexico felt his heart pound at the question. It felt like there was more suspicion than he had expected. He drew in a breath through his nose before he answered, "I promise you that I am. Why would you ask? Did I ever fail to send you letters?"
He felt like there was some paranoia, unless Iturbide had sent another spy. The emperor let out a relieved breath that Mexico had not realized he had been holding. Then, in an uncharacteristic show of weakness, he furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair. Mexico was surprised at how stressed he looked.
Iturbide said, "I know that there are people waiting to tear me down, and I am certain that they want to sway you. I can't even trust the Congress now. Your letters began to worry me, and I would rather have you here with me."
It felt more difficult to lie than Mexico had anticipated. For the moment he settled on a question, "What was worrying about them?"
He had made a point to not tell him about anything that Santa Anna was doing outside of command, since it would be difficult to explain much of his activity. Iturbide explained, "Santa Anna may be a good general, but he is an ambitious man. I am sure that you realized that with the time you've spent with him. If he was given the chance to betray me, I am sure he would take it. Your letters made him sound dutiful."
Mexico thought that perhaps he had been too kind to Santa Anna in his letters. He replied, "He has been a dutiful general. If he is planning anything else, he did not share it with me. I told you what I know."
Iturbide looked slightly skeptical, and he said, "Are you certain? You didn't notice anything untoward?"
Mexico laughed, and said, "Not by his standards. How do you expect me to judge a man like him being untoward?" The emperor responded with a chuckle, and Mexico felt slightly better knowing he had lessened the stress.
Iturbide said, changing the topic, "Well, welcome home. I am glad you are here." Mexico decided not to push too hard and bring up the way that Iturbide had seemed all too happy to send him away. It would be better to make peace and assuage any suspicion.
Apparently satisfied with the conversation, Iturbide said, "There is someone that I want you to meet. Come with me."
Mexico was intrigued by the invitation. He nodded and said with a smirk, "I'm at your disposal."
Iturbide led him out to the gardens, and Mexico tried to imagine who would be worth introducing him to, since Iturbide had been cautious before. He guessed that the person was a minister that Iturbide wanted to trust with his confidence. He felt like he was correct when he caught sight of a neatly dressed man.
The man looked incredibly familiar, but Mexico could not place where he had seen him before. The years of war had blurred his specific memories of people. If he had been one of the insurgents, then Mexico had forgotten his name and remembered his face. He was also surprised by the woman at his side.
Iturbide introduced him, "This is Andreas Quintana Roo. I have appointed him foreign minister."
He faltered for a moment as his eyes passed over the woman, who he clearly was not expecting, "And this is-"
Quintana Roo took the cue and finished the introduction for him, "This is my wife Leona Vicario. She wanted to see the palace."
The sentence struck Mexico as a lie, but he could not place why. Vicario smiled at Mexico in a way that made him feel at ease. Iturbide seemed to decide that it was an acceptable enough reason, and continued with his own thoughts.
Iturbide continued, "He wanted to discuss the state of affairs with you."
Mexico found it slightly odd, since it was not something that he had ever discussed with the previous foreign minister. But something about the feeling of familiarity told him that he should not question it.
He replied, "Very well."
Quintana Roo said, "I would deeply appreciate it."
Mexico still could not shake the feeling that there was a knowing sparkle in his eye. He could tell that Iturbide did not see it when the man said, "I trust that you two can discuss that together. Ale, you know where to find me."
He departed, and Mexico let out a relieved breath. Though he was well practiced at feigning loyalty, it was still exhausting. Quintana Roo said, before Iturbide was out of earshot, "You seem to have made a deal with the Netherlands, and I want to know what it cost us."
It seemed like he very much intended for the emperor to hear what he was asking. Mexico noticed that his wife was glanding around. He had a sense that something else was going on. He took the other's lead and answered the question with his voice slightly raised, "I am very fortunate that Johann asked for nothing in return."
Quintana Roo said to his wife, quietly enough that only Mexico could hear, "Are we still being watched?"
She nodded discreetly and answered, "Yes, but they can't hear us. You can speak freely."
Their calm conspiratorialist tone made Mexico far more comfortable. Certain that it was a private conversation, Mexico asked the question that was bothering him, "Have we met before? You seem so familiar."
The longer that he looked at the man's face the more certain he was that he had seen him before. It almost felt like a weakness to ask, but he could not shake the feeling that they had met before.
Quintana Roo answered gracefully, "Not exactly. I presided over the Congress of Chilpancingo; it was my proudest moment." The smile when he said it was genuinely endearing.
Vicario said, "Rescuing me wasn't your proudest moment?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Of course it was."
Their interaction was so sweet that Mexico felt a pang of envy. He missed someone that he had allowed himself to feel tender feelings for again.
Quintana Roo turned back to him and said, "I remember seeing you at the Congress, but we never formally met." The answer brought back the memory. Mexico distinctly remembered seeing him speak.
He replied, "I'm glad to meet you both."
Vicario met his eyes and said, softly, "You don't know how long I've wanted to meet you. That's why I insisted on being here."
Mexico felt the familiar warmth in his chest that he felt around someone who truly believed in him. She added, "This is not the best place to speak. But, you must visit us and we can exchange stories."
Quintana Roo said, effortlessly finishing the thought, "And my position gives you a reason to visit without Iturbide suspecting anything."
Mexico felt comfortable, and he trusted his gut feeling to tell him if the offer was too good to be true. Vicario said, "You are bleeding. Here, let me."
She pulled out a handkerchief and touched the corner to the scab on his forehead. Mexico didn't object; he was sure that the scab had broken open again after the long day. He said, quietly, "Thank you. I appreciate it."
She smiled and pressed the handkerchief into his hand. He took the handkerchief, and as he tightened his hand on it, he felt something crisper in the fabric. Looking down, he could see that there was a piece of paper. Curious, he unfolded it enough to see Victoria's elegant scrawl.
He drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Friends in the capital, indeed.
Vicario gently placed her hand over his and folded the handkerchief back over the letter. He met her eyes and she said, "That's for later, not while we're being watched. If you need anything at all, you can come to us."
Mexico tucked the letter into his pocket, and said, "I will."