As soon as Héctor was sure Ernesto was getting his mansion back, he said goodbye to the security guards and raced home. He had no reason to run, but he was kind of happy that Ernesto had his property back.

Héctor also knew he shouldn't have done that: Ernesto did commit crimes (murdering Héctor and stealing his songs), so he sort of belonged there. But one thing Héctor hated was seeing his amigo miserable. Ernesto should be able to live in his own place, no matter what happend in the past.

And Héctor felt kind of proud that Ernesto wasn't in prison anymore.

As soon as Héctor reached the Rivera hacienda, he stopped before opening the door. He knew Imelda would wonder why he left in the first place, and he wondered what he should tell her. Imelda certainly wouldn't want to hear what he did for Ernesto today, but lying wouldn't help.

She always seemed to be able to see right through Héctor when he wasn't telling the truth. It would be easier to just tell her everything.

With the thought of what to say fresh in his mind, Héctor pushed open the door.

Ernesto slumped on his bed, feeling more or less worse than when he'd left prison. It was a long walk from his cell to his mansion, and he still couldn't get Héctor's stupid nickname out of his head.

It replayed itself over and over, like when a song is played far too many times and it burns itself into your memory. What disturbed Ernesto the most, however, was who's idea it'd been to move him in the first place.

Héctor.

As if thinking about his former amigo wasn't enough, Ernesto actually had to come face-to-face with the man, in his stupid mariachi suit, with that stupid sympathetic look in his eyes, and his more than stupid idea. To be truthful, he liked gaving his old place back, but did Héctor have to be so nice about it?

Ernesto was his murderer after all; if anything, Héctor should be scared to death of him, cowering every time he and Ernesto crossed paths.

But no. It had to be Héctor's idea to get Ernesto's life somewhat back to normal. Héctor who had to be the source of the reason Ernesto was no longer being held against his will.

Héctor who, for whatever reason, seemed happy to see Ernesto in the first place.

The whole thing made Ernesto feel sick to his non-exsistant stomach.

He rolled over onto his bed, facing the large window in his room. The sun was setting now. Not that Ernesto was planning on sleeping anyway. His mind was so full it made his head spin. Ernesto pressed his hand to his forehead to stop the feeling. At least if he couldn't stop thinking about Héctor, he could try to stop feeling like he was going to pass out.

"You did WHAT?!"

"I had to, mi amor." Héctor answered truthfully. "He was miserable."

"That's how I like seeing him. Really, Héctor, life is better without that liar bothering us." Imelda stared at him, and Héctor tried very hard not to tense up.

He'd told Imelda the whole story, inculding the fact that Ernesto's out of jail now because of him. They were in their bedroom talking about it. He didn't leave anything out, although now he wished he'd lied about some stuff, because Imelda was now very upset. He had to tell her, though. She deserved to know every detail, even if it made her mad.

Héctor took a deep breath. "I felt sorry for him, that's all." he said, his fingers twitching at his sides. "He didn't deserve to be in there."

" 'Didn't deserve to'?" Imelda fumed, "He killed you, Héctor. He murdered you and stole your creativity. As punishment, he was arrested and taken to jail. That's how it works. That's the way it's always worked."

"Don't you think being crushed by the bell was enough for him?" Héctor asked.

"He's looked worse." Imelda comments, "he's looked way worse. Being crushed is nothing. He'll get over it."

"He hasn't gotten over it yet," Héctor replies. His ball into fists as he says this. "And he's had plenty of time."

Imelda sighs. "Listen, mi amor," she says, "I know you miss him, but you shouldn't have done anything. He was paying the price like he was supposed to. And he did deserve that punishment."

"You hate him." Héctor responds, "you're supposed to say that."

"I'm saying it because it's the truth." Imelda tells him.

Héctor tenses up this time. He can't help it. He starts to speak again. "He was depressed in there, Imelda." he says, voice heavy with emotion. "Miserable beyond belief. I couldn't just turn my back on him. I wanted him to have his mansion. He had to have it." Tears start to drip down Héctor's face. He turns away. "You don't understand. You've always hated him. You've always despised him." Héctor sighs, laying down on their bed.

"Héctor--" Imelda starts, but Héctor interrupts her.

"It's ok, Imelda. You don't have to say anything else."

Héctor hears Imelda sigh as she turns out the light and lays down next to him. That night, Ernesto's face never leaves his mind.