My eternal gratitude to drcalvin, who looked at medical reports for me about eye trauma so I could figure out what issues Joaquin would be dealing with.

When Joaquin had begun his training, he'd graduated pretty quickly from fencing with dummies to training against General Posada's men. The last time he remembered even seeing a practice dummy was two or three years ago, when he had been re-enacting one of his more exciting fights and none of the brigade had been up to playing the part of a bandit.

It took him a while to find the dummies, buried under a rug in the general's attic. Judging by the musty smell and the faded, tattered quality of the first dummy's shirt, that reenactment had probably been the last time anyone had used them. He wrinkled his nose, wondering if maybe he should figure out some other way to practice, one less...smelly.

Then he sighed and chose the least musty one. He threw it over his shoulder and trudged out of the general's house. He was grateful that most of the townsfolk seemed to have slept in, recovering from the Day of the Dead. The three people Joaquin passed offered him half-awake greetings, too sleepy to even stare at the dummy and wonder what he was doing.

He walked past the ruined gates of the town and crossed the bridge without seeing anyone else. There was the tree that greeted everyone coming to the mainland, still standing tall and proud. He and Manolo had sometimes snuck away to play here when they were younger, he remembered. Joaquin would stretch out in the shade and listen to Manolo play his newest tune.

Positioning the dummy from one of the tree's limbs so that it dangled at about a normal man's height, he stood back. The dummy swung slightly in the wind, its painted face so faded he could barely make out the eyes and mouth. It was a little creepy, he thought, and then laughed at himself for being unnerved by a dummy of all things when the town had faced Chakal and his bandits the day before.

He took another step back. The ground had dried after the fierce, sudden rain of the day before; the earth felt solid beneath his boots. It was a quiet spot, away from San Angel, and a good place for his practice. Well, it was a good place as long as Joaquin didn't think too hard about what else had happened here. He looked down at the ground and couldn't help but wonder if he was standing in the same spot where Maria had stood when the snake bit her. And then there was Manolo- but at least someone had removed Manolo's memorial. There wasn't even a candle left. That was something.

He pushed those thoughts away and drew his sword. Circling the dummy slowly, he tried to figure out how losing his eye would impact his fighting. Between tripping over his own feet getting out of bed and walking into the door not once, but twice earlier, losing the one eye had obviously done something. He pressed closer to the dummy, and then nearer, varying the distance. He raised his sword higher, wondering a little at the way the blade felt strange in his hand.

His neck pinched at him, and he stilled, still unused to pain. He'd been in the middle of turning his head to peer at the dummy, compensating for his lost eye. He probably looked ridiculous, squinting like at things with his head half-cocked like a bird, he thought, frowning. He was glad again that he'd chosen a remote spot to practice.

He shook out his shoulders and rolled his neck, trying to loosen up the tight muscles. Then he resumed a fighting stance. He bent his knee and lunged. This, at least, was familiar, his muscles remembering the movement. The flat of the blade struck the dummy's shoulder hard, but even as Joaquin felt the impact reverberate through his arm, he scowled. He'd aimed for the dummy's chest.

He stepped back, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong.

"Your footwork is sloppy."

Joaquin, offended, wheeled to face the intruder. He froze at the sight of Maria, standing at the foot of the bridge with one hand on her hip and both eyebrows raised. His face heated. He forgot what he'd been about to say. "Oh, um, Maria. Hello." His thoughts fled, like they often did at the sight of her smile. He straightened, resisting the urge to smooth a hand over his mustache and to check his reflection in his sword. Then he remembered her criticism, and winced. He scratched at his jaw. "My footwork. Right. Well, my stance didn't exactly matter when I was wearing the medal, since the bandits couldn't hurt me, so I may have, uh, slacked off there..."

He trailed off as Maria's lips compressed into a frown. She ran a slow, scrutinizing look down his frame. He remembered how easily she had knocked his blade and Manolo's guitar from their grips, how natural the sword had looked in her hand. He squirmed. "But I'll work on it!" A thought struck him. It was his turn to frown. "Shouldn't you be with Manolo?" He remembered an earlier, disastrous conversation - had it only been two days ago? - and added hastily, "Not that as his wife you're at his beck and call or anything like that, but I just thought, what with his father and his great-grandmother dying, he'd want you, uh, to be there-"

"Joaquin."

He stopped, swallowed down the rest of the words that wanted to stammer their way off his tongue.

To his relief, Maria's expression had lightened a little, as though amused by his spluttering. "Manolo asked me to see how you were doing."

"How I'm doing?" Joaquin said, surprised. Then he laughed and shook his head. Fondness caught at his chest. He couldn't help but smile. "Of course he did. Tell him I'm fine, just-" He waved his sword vaguely at the dummy. Then he realized it was probably rude to wave a sword around. He sheathed it and then flexed his arm. "You know, practicing, keeping in shape. Can't slack off, you know."

Maria didn't say anything for a moment. She studied the dummy, and then the ground, looking at the marks Joaquin's boots had left on the earth. She looked thoughtful. "When did you get the medal?"

He scratched at his jaw, wondering if she'd be angry. He'd kept the medal a secret from both Manolo and Maria, after all. "Uh, the Day of the Dead before you went to Spain."

Maria didn't look surprised, thankfully. Then again, she'd probably remembered the day where he and Manolo had rescued her father from the warthog and put two and two together. "Right. So you just need to relearn a few things, like footwork, and adjust to-" She hesitated a second. Her gaze lingered on his face. Then she nodded, once, very sharply, as though coming to a decision. "You'll need a partner."

"Yeah. I'd ask one of your father's men, but they're, uh, well, they're good men, but they're a little..." Joaquin paused, hunting for the right word. After a second he gave up and shrugged. "They're not exactly going to point out if I make a mistake, so that's not- what?"

Maria laughed again. "Joaquin, you goofball, I meant me."

Joaquin stared. He wondered how he'd missed the sword hilts peeking over Maria's shoulder. Now they seemed obvious.

She smiled. "This is perfect. I was going to ask if we could practice together even if you hadn't needed a partner. Father's letters was one of the reasons I learned, you know. I thought your fencing lessons sounded exciting."

"Really?" Joaquin said, blinking. He flushed, pleased that he had inspired Maria to do something.

"Yes, really." The swords were practice blades made of polished wood; the one she drew from its sheath gleamed in the sunlight. She pointed the sword at him. Her smile was as sharp as steel, her eyes bright with excitement. "Just give me a few minutes to warm up." Then she tossed the sword to him.

Grinning, he went to snatch the practice blade out of the air. He missed completely. The sword struck his chest with a dull impact. He grabbed for it again, fumbling, but got a hold of the hilt. He frowned down at the sword, his pride smarting more than his chest. Aware that Maria watched, he forced a laugh. "Guess I need to work on the whole hand-eye thing too."

He couldn't read her expression. Maria was quiet, just looking at him for a second. Then she took her hair down; it tumbled past her shoulders in a dark wave. She pulled her hair back into a tight braid, making certain none of the curls would fall into her eyes, her movements quick and almost impatient.

He grew distracted by the flex of her arm, the small furrow she got between her eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth. This practice was probably a bad idea, he thought as Maria drew her sword and began to move through her paces, slowly at first and then faster, darting the occasional smile his way. It wasn't that he thought they could really hurt each other with wooden blades, but he remembered her sweat-darkened curls, how beautiful she'd looked flushed from dancing. He swallowed, his throat tight, the morning sun seeming suddenly too hot on his face. This was definitely a bad idea.

"Maria," he said slowly, trying to figure out how to say no. "Maybe we shouldn't..."

Maria paused in the middle of a practice lunge. Her lips thinned into a frown again. "Why not?" She raised an eyebrow. "If you're worried you'll hurt me, don't be. I can hold my own against you or any man."

"I know you can," he said again, meaning it, and licked his lips. "I know you can protect yourself. I just-" He stopped, frustrated. He'd never been good with words. That had always been Manolo with his songs and now Maria, too, with her books. He frowned at his feet. "Maria, about yesterday, I'm- I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

He muttered, "I know you were going to marry me for San Angel and not because- I should have told you I'd stay even if you didn't marry me. I should have-" He stopped as she touched his arm. When he looked up, she was watching him intently.

"You ran towards Manolo," she said.

Joaquin blinked at her, not sure what she meant. "What?"

"When Manolo was going to sacrifice himself to stop Chakal, you ran towards him, even though you knew Manolo had the medal and would be safe."

"I-" The words stuck in his throat. Don't stop fighting for what's right, Manolo had said, and then shoved him away from Chakal and to safety. He remembered looking up from the ground in time to see Manolo's gaze fix upon Maria like he'd wanted her to be the last thing he saw before the bell came down. Joaquin closed his eye. "I wasn't really thinking about the medal."

His thoughts scattered as Maria kissed his cheek. The press of her lips were brief. Still, the soft touch seemed to linger even as he opened his eye, like it'd left a mark somehow. He stared at the warm look in her eyes, her small smile. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Maria waited a second. When he said nothing, she tapped his elbow with the sword, very gently, and smiled. "You would have done the right thing in the end, Joaquin. I'm sure of it." Before Joaquin could react to that, she tapped his elbow more forcefully. Her smile broadened to a dangerous grin. "Now, are you ready to practice?"

Joaquin recovered his voice. "Yes." He adjusted his grip on the practice sword as Maria stepped back into a defensive position. They saluted each other. Relief touched him again that Maria wasn't angry. He remembered the misery in Maria's face as she'd answered Father Domingo, how it had struck at him like a blow, and thought- hoped- he would've done the right thing and said no if the wedding hadn't been interrupted.

"Joaquin, watch your feet," Maria said.

"Right," he said, flushing and focusing on the here and now.

He adjusted his stance almost too late. In the next second Maria advanced and lunged. Joaquin jumped back, realizing too late it was a feint meant to throw him off-balance. Maria pressed him fiercely, laughing as she did so. She was quick, her sword a blur as she darted at him again and again.

He parried all of her attacks, barely, and grinned in admiration as she drove him backwards. "Who taught you to fence?"

"Sister Valentina of the Convent of the Perpetual Flame of Purity."

Joaquin stumbled. One of Maria's attacks nearly landed, but he barely noticed. He tried to imagine it, a nun wielding a sword and parrying a thrust from Maria. "A nun?"

Maria laughed, a little breathless. She retreated for a second. She wiped sweat from her forehead, flicked it to the ground. "Well, she wasn't always a nun."

"Right," Joaquin said, still struggling to picture this Sister Valentina. Instead he imagined Sister Ana with a sword. He laughed and tried a feint, retreating quickly when Maria didn't fall for it. "Maybe you should teach the sisters here."

Maria pursed her lips. She was taking his joke seriously, he realized. After a second, she shook her head. "The sisters are a little too old to begin lessons, but the orphans might like to learn."

Joaquin grinned. Now that he could imagine: the orphans standing in front of Maria as she corrected their stances and adjusted their grips on their practice swords, their faces filled with adoration. "You'll have your own brigade in a few years." He saluted her again. "Capitánana."

Maria giggled. A pleased flush crept into her cheeks. "Stop."

Joaquin took advantage of her distraction with a sudden lunge. He intended to disarm her, his gaze fixed upon her sword hand. He missed entirely, his practice sword striking thin air. His knee buckled and he nearly fell.

Maria dropped her sword and steadied him with both hands. "Are you all right?"

Embarrassed by the concern in her eyes, he wrenched himself free and stepped back. He stared down at his sword, turning it over in his hands. He must have looked ridiculous, flailing at nothing. He forced another smile, though humiliation was sour in his mouth. "Of course I'm all right. My trick worked. Look, you're disarmed!" He tapped her shoulder with his sword, tried to smile more convincingly. "I win."

"Joaquin," Maria sighed. The corner of her mouth twitched as though she didn't know whether to smile or frown. "Sister Valentina knew a swordsman who lost his eye. She said he was still a good fighter, but he had some trouble with close combat. You-"

"He could still fight?" The question slipped out, unthinking. Joaquin caught his breath, bracing himself for Maria's answer. Though he wasn't sure what he'd do if she said no. He was a soldier. What did soldiers do if they couldn't fight anymore?

Quietly, as though guessing his thoughts, Maria said, "Yes. He learned to fight despite his eye. I'll write to the sister and see if she has any advice." She bent and picked up her sword from where she had dropped it. "I'm sure she'll be happy to help."

Relief dizzied him. So he could still fight. That was something. He cleared his throat. "Thanks. Though I'll have to get her advice from you when I visit again."

"When you visit again...?" Maria looked up from brushing dirt from her sword. Her smile faded and shifted to a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'll be gone by the time her letter gets here, of course," Joaquin said. He watched in surprise as Maria's eyes narrowed.

"Gone? Joaquin, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not staying in San Angel. Chakal's dead, but most of his bandits escaped, and- ow!" Joaquin yelped as Maria struck him hard on the arm with the flat of her blade. He stared at her, baffled by her anger. His arm hurt where she'd hit him. He wondered if it would bruise. He almost touched the spot, but he kept still, a little worried she'd hit him again. "What? What did I say?"

Maria glared at him. There wasn't even a hint of amusement in her face now, and he quailed at the anger that flashed in her eyes. "Have you forgotten you're not invincible anymore?" she demanded.

"Um," Joaquin said. Somehow he suspected there was no right answer to that question. He smiled uncertainly at her and waved a hand towards his eye patch. "No, that's pretty hard to forget, but I can't just let the bandits attack other towns. They lost Chakal as their leader, but someone else might take over, and-"

Maria shoved him. His back hit the tree trunk and he stared in astonishment as she rose on the tips of her toes to get in his face. Her voice was low and dangerously even, like it had been when he'd messed up during dinner. "So you're going to go off and track them down yourself, of course. Alone."

"Well, yeah, that's the plan," Joaquin began, and then hesitated as Maria scowled. "It's the right thing to do?" he tried. This time he wasn't really surprised when she let out an exasperated sigh, though at least she didn't hit him again.

"I'm not saying that the bandits don't need to be stopped, Joaquin. I'm saying that you shouldn't do it on your own. You're still strong, the medal didn't give you those muscles, but you can't go against twenty men on your own anymore. Not without getting hurt." His breath caught in his throat as she reached out. Her fingertips were very warm as they traced the outline of the eye patch. Her voice softened. "Will you take my father's men with you, at least?"

He laughed a little, or tried to. He wanted to shake his head, but that would mean moving away from Maria's touch, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. He shouldn't be feeling like this, he told himself, not when she'd chosen Manolo. The thought didn't really help. He swallowed and said, "Maria, I like the guys, but I can't ask them to leave San Angel. This is their home."

"It's your home too," Maria reminded him. When he didn't say anything, not sure what to say, still flustered by her touch, she sighed and stepped back. She looked towards San Angel. "Manolo should be done with Father Domingo by now. Please, come with me?"

He'd refused her first request. He couldn't refuse this one. Joaquin nodded. "Just let me get the dummy first."

Maria didn't smile, but at least she wasn't glaring at him anymore. "Good." She said something under her breath that sounded like, Maybe Manolo will talk some sense into you. Joaquin didn't ask her to repeat it.

Manolo was seated on the steps of the church when Joaquin saw him. His head was bowed, his expression pensive and a little tired. When Maria called his name, he looked up and smiled. The smile chased the weariness from his face, and he sprang to his feet. "I was about to go looking for you both," he said.

"Well, we found you first," Maria said, laughing a little and stepping into his arms.

Manolo touched her hair, lightly, an amused question in his eyes, and Joaquin realized that Maria still had her hair up in the braid. "You did. What were you doing?"

Joaquin cleared his throat. He didn't think about Maria's hand against his skin, the quick, brief kiss upon his cheek, how beautiful she'd looked with the sword in her hand. She'd meant the kiss and concerned touch as a friend. "Fencing practice. Did she tell you she's going to form her own brigade with the orphans?"

"Joaquin!" Maria turned and slapped at him, laughing. "Don't listen to him, Manolo, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

He dodged, dropping the dummy, and raised his hands. "What? You said you were going to teach the orphans to fence. That sounds like a brigade to me."

Manolo laughed. "With you two teaching them, I bet Ignacio and Luka will be the finest fencers in all of Mexico. Excepting yourselves of course!" He stopped, and looked between Joaquin, who was trying not to wince, and Maria, who was frowning again. He raised an eyebrow. "What? Did I miss something?"

"Joaquin is-" Maria began.

Joaquin cut in hastily. Manolo had already had a long day, preparing the wake and funerals for his family. There wasn't any reason to bother him with this today. They could argue about it later. The day after the funerals. Or never, though he knew better than to hope for that. "I'm not exactly the best fighter anymore, buddy." He tapped his eye patch, and, seeing Manolo's smile twist, added, "Though I'm still great, of course."

"Of course," Manolo said, grinning again. "Just wait until everyone starts singing the ballad of San Angel, about how Maria, the most beautiful and talented lady in the world, and Joaquin, the hero of San Angel, defeated Chakal, the bandit king."

"And Manolo, the guitarrista who beat Xibalba himself at a wager and stopped Chakal for good," Joaquin added. Then he blinked. "Wait, you're really writing a song about it?" At Manolo's nod, he grinned. "I can't wait to hear it." He paused and touched his mustache. "You are going to mention my mustache, right? And my medals?"

The corners of Manolo's eyes crinkled. "Of course. How do you think I introduced you in the song? 'Joaquin Mondragon, the hero of San Angel, he of the grandest mustache the world has ever seen.'"

Joaquin squinted at him. "...Okay, I know you're not serious, buddy, but I've got to say, I like it."

Maria snorted. When Joaquin looked at her, she was staring at him, amused but exasperated. She squeezed Manolo's arm and kissed his cheek. "I look forward to it. But now I'd like to eat."

"Right, I'll just," Joaquin said, backing up and waving in the direction of his house. He stopped at Manolo and Maria's mutual stares. "What?"

"Joaquin, will you eat with us?" Maria asked, slowly, like she thought the invitation had been obvious.

"Oh, I thought..." He rubbed at his jaw, resisted the urge to fidget beneath their gazes. The back of his neck warmed. "It's your first day being married. You're sure you want company?"

Manolo grinned, like Joaquin had made a joke. He stepped forward, dragging Joaquin into a one-armed hug. "What are you talking about? You're not company," he said in Joaquin's ear. "Did Maria hit your head?" Manolo tried to give him a little shake, as though to knock some sense into him. After a second Joaquin let himself be shaken, laughing a little as Manolo huffed into his ear. With a satisfied look, Manolo released him.

Joaquin shouldn't have been so pleased, but he stood there, grinning a little stupidly. "She didn't."

"Maybe next time," Maria said, slipping between them and linking arms with them both. She looked up at Joaquin. For a second her look clearly said that she hadn't forgotten about his plans to leave San Angel in the near future. Then she squeezed his arm, and smiled. "But right now, let's eat. I want to hear all about what's happened in San Angel while I was gone. Father's letters were mostly about his brigade and rumors about Chakal."

Manolo immediately launched into a story as they began to walk towards Manolo's house, still arm in arm. His free hand sketched out the main figures of the story, which were apparently Father Domingo and Sister Ana, who'd disagreed over church repairs.

Joaquin watched Manolo's smile, the flash of his teeth as he laughed at his own joke, and Maria's face, the amused and affectionate look she directed towards Manolo. He looked his fill, and then tucked this memory alongside the one of the night before. He'd remember this as he chased down the surviving bandits, just like he'd kept Maria's bonnet.

Maria bumped him with her hip. When he blinked, she smiled at him. "Well? You must have a story or two as well."

He opened his mouth to answer and then looked suspiciously at Manolo, who wore a mischievous grin. Slowly, he said, half-eyeing Manolo, "Well, I mostly have stories about, you know, heroic stuff. My stories about San Angel aren't very interesting. You probably heard about my training from your father-"

"Tell her about the fishing trip," Manolo said.

Joaquin frowned, wondering if there was a way to subtly kick Manolo in the shins. Probably not, since Maria was still between them. He settled for glaring instead. "We agreed to never talk about that again," he hissed. He added, probably unconvincingly, judging by Maria's interested look, "It's a boring story, Maria. You wouldn't want-"

Manolo interrupted. "Joaquin can ride a horse backwards or upside down, but he gets seasick as soon as he takes one step into a boat. You should have seen how green he got!"

"Oh no, really?" Maria bit her lip, like she was trying not to laugh. She let go of Joaquin's arm long enough to pat him. "Poor Joaquin."

"Manolo!" he complained. The word came out as an unmanly whine. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Maria, that was a million years ago. I bet I would be fine on a boat now." He reached over and mussed Manolo's perfect hair as revenge, ignoring his squawk of protest. He looked at Maria, who was now giggling at them both and shaking her head. "And I didn't get that green. Really."

"I believe you," Maria said solemnly. She immediately ruined it by laughing.

Joaquin mussed up Manolo's hair a little more, just because.