Chapter 32: That Crazy Bachelor Life

"Quiet on the set!"

"Días de la Revolución, scene fourteen, take twenty."

"Bueno, roll camera… and… action!"

As the canned music swelled to glorious heights Ernesto turned towards the cameras with a gleaming smile, a rifle in hand and covered in smudges of dirt. He gestured to all of his fellow soldiers with a hearty laugh. "Come amigos! The enemy is on the run! Now is our chance to be rid of Huerta and his regime once in for all!"

A child, no older than ten years old and clearly haunted by the horrors of war, sniffled up at Ernesto. "Ay, but Estaban! The soldiers have been fighting for days non-stop! We are too tired to move on!"

Ernesto smiled sympathetically at the young boy. "I understand, chico. Despite my triumphant appearance, my soul and my bones are as weary as yours and everyone else's. But we must not think of that now. We must think of our wives and our children who are depending on us to keep them safe and ensure a brighter future for them." When all of the soldiers still murmured in their despair and exhaustion, Ernesto snapped his fingers. "There's only one way to bolster a tired spirit, and that is with a song. Elias, mi hermanito, play for us and instill new life into our hearts!"

…..

"Ahem… Elias, mi hermanito, play for us and instill new life into our hearts!"

All eyes turned towards Elias' actor and then they scoffed in irritation and disgust. There he was, slouched against the trench wall with his sombrero slipping onto his face and his guitar loosely held in his hands, snoring loudly and oblivious to the world around him.

"Héctor!"

"Que?!" Héctor jumped up towards his feet in wild terror, blinking away the sleep and seeing the furious glares of the cast and crew bearing down on him. "Oh, right. Uh… Wake up, mi hijos, the time has come-"

"CUT!"

The child actor ripped his hat off of his head slammed it to the ground. "Madre de Dios, Rivera! How many times do you have to screw up before we can finish this damn movie?!"

Héctor huffed and glared down at the kid. "Well, why do we have to do this scene so many damn times, anyway?! We had a perfect take hours ago! Enough is enough!"

"Now now." Ernesto placed himself between the two and smiled sweetly. "There's no need to fight. We are all tired, sí, but it won't be long and soon we can go on to the next scene-"

"Vete a la chingada!" the boy screamed as he furiously marched off the set. "I turned down a very lucrative offer to be in your movie Ernesto, but now I'm regretting it immensely! Until he gets his act together I'll be in my trailer!"

Ernesto sighed as he watched the little brat walk away. "That's what I get for hiring the cute amorcito of Mexico. More like the mierdito of Mexico, eh Héctor?" He turned towards Héctor with a grin that faded into concern when he saw his friend sighing with his fingers rubbing into his eyes. "Amigo, are you okay?"

"I'm tired Ernesto." Héctor mumbled. "We've been at this all day with no breaks. I just want to go to my trailer too and… drink some water."

"Ah, before you go Héctor look who's here!" Ernesto dragged a reluctant Héctor past all the cameras towards two figures standing off to the side. A middle-aged man and a young woman, both wearing impeccable business attire and grinning as the two approached. "Héctor, this is Señor Andres Dominguez and his lovely wife Florencia. They are the producers for this movie as well as several of my others. We go way back!"

"Neto!" Florencia kissed both of Ernesto's cheeks and smiled gracefully. "It's always so exciting to see you perform, whether it's behind the camera or on stage. But it's even better now that you got Teto here to finally come from out of the shadows to truly show off his own stage presence!"

Héctor's eyebrow quirked a little. "Teto?" He hadn't been called that since he was five!

"Ah, my wife is a bit of the nick-namer. Aren't you Flor?" Andres tapped his wife's button nose and she giggled loudly. Too loudly for Héctor's taste as he winced. "I must say Ernesto this movie couldn't have come at a better time. Not only is it a historical piece and a musical, but it also parallels with the current war! Young, valiant men fighting for what's right to protect their country!"

Florencia nodded. "Sí and it's sure to sell well once people know that a good portion of the sales will be sent to support our troops." She sighed and pouted a little. "It's a terrible time though. The thought of any of our children being sent off to fight is terrifying! And so far from home!" She prattled on, not noticing Ernesto silently but forcefully shake his hands and head at her.

"You are right Flor." Andres smiled and turned his attention towards Héctor. "I was eighteen when the revolutionaries came knocking on our doors, looking for recruits. My Mamá was wise enough to squirrel me away until they left though. After all it's a parent's responsibility to protect their children... Say, you've got a son fighting overseas right now, don't you Teto? What was his name again? Maxímo?"

Héctor simply stared at Andres, an empty feeling forming in his chest and spreading throughout his body. Blinking rapidly, he looked away towards the direction of his trailer, towards a source of security. "Yes, that's right... Nice to have met you both, but if you'll excuse me..." He trailed off and started to hurry to his destination. Dios, he needed some water. He had only just cleared the soundstage doors when Ernesto had managed to catch up to him and grab his arm.

"Héctor, wait!" Ernesto placed his hand on Héctor's shoulder and looked appropriately chagrined. "I'm sorry about that. I should have known that would happen. For all of their many virtues when it comes to business and entertainment, tact is not on the list."

Héctor sighed. "It's fine Ernesto. It's not like it's a secret that Matty is off fighting."

"I'll spread the word around that that subject is taboo. You won't hear about it again. And you go ahead and take a few hours to rest, hermanito." Ernesto smiled. "After all, your happiness is my happiness."

Laughing bitterly Héctor looked at Ernesto and grinned. "Is that right?... Well then I feel sorry for you."

"Héctor..."

Turning on his heel Héctor left a despondent Ernesto his wake, his only goal being to get to his trailer and to get some water. Or rather, what looked like water. These days it's whatever was clear enough to pass as water to the unsuspecting passerby. Tequila, mezcal, vodka, gin, anything that would make the ache in his chest and the unrelenting headaches go away for a short period of time. Not that he was fooling anyone at this point. His sloppy performances and his tendencies to fall asleep on set were enough to give away that he spent very little of his working hours sober. All of this would be enough to have him fired on the spot and easily replaced if he were just a lowly actor with a disposable contract. But no, he was co-owner of this very studio that employed all who worked there. He was the reason that they were well-paid and able to provide for their families. So yes, Héctor Rivera just drank water and was just easily tired all the time. End of story.

Turning the corner towards salvation Héctor bit back a groan as he saw his personal assistant, Vicente, leaning against the trailer while writing in a personal log book. Vicente was a good kid with a level head on his shoulders and a keen sense of business. He was well on his way to rising up in the company and Héctor would have been happy to help him along the way, if he didn't have to be such a mother hen about Héctor's well-being. Just like he expected Vicente looked up at him from his book and his brow furrowed with concern. Here we go again.

"Finished already, Señor Rivera?"

Héctor shrugged. "They can film scenes without me. I'm tired and I want some water."

Vicente sighed and snapped his book closed. "Well, I have actual water in there waiting for you. As well as some food. I suggest you eat something and hydrate yourself, Señor. You don't look well."

"I'm fine, Vicente." Héctor growled. "What I need is some alcohol. Alcohol! There, I said it. Are you happy now?"

"Hardly." Vicente snapped back. "It's my job as your assistant to make sure that you are at your best, not be your mother. That being said we are all worried about you. You've lost too much weight and the alcohol is not helping your headaches, no matter what you say. It would be a load off my shoulders if you would let the on-set doctor see to you."

"No, I'm fine, seriously Chente." Héctor sighed and clapped a hand on Vicente's shoulder, putting on his best charming smile. Just tell him what he wants to hear and get him off your back. "You are a good kid. Thank you. I'll eat something, I promise. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

Vicente still looked unsure at his boss but nodded. "Bueno. I also took the liberty of stopping by the mansion and picking up your mail."

"Ah, gracias amigo. What would I do without you?" And with that he walked into his trailer and slammed the door shut, blocking out the list that Vicente prattled on about exactly what things Héctor couldn't do without him.

The trailer was spacious enough for a queen-sized bed, a sofa and a makeup table with room to spare for any make-up artists and costumers to come in and make Héctor look movie-ready. Sure enough on the table Vicente had laid out a basket full of ripe fruit and pan dulce as well as a pitcher filled with half-melted ice water. Héctor scowled at it, knowing that he had a secret bottle of mezcal hidden inside his pillow case just waiting to be drank, before sighing and pouring himself a glass of water. Might as well make Vicente happy. Ignoring the food he grabbed the stack of mail and flopped down onto the sofa to flip through them.

Fan mail, fan mail, bill, monthly bar tab, fan mail... Wait. Looking at the letter again Héctor's brow furrowed in confusion. Several stamps were plastered on it as well as a note saying it had been forwarded from America. Looking at the return address perplexed him even more. Who did he know from Egypt? It took a few moments for him to remember exactly where Egypt was. Egypt... Africa! With a startled gasp he ripped open the envelope and sure enough he was met with Matty's clean handwriting. Huffing out a relieved sigh he began to read.

Papá,

Sorry it has been a while since I have last written to you. I'm no longer in the training camp so I won't have a solid mailing address for quite the foreseeable future. I'm afraid that our correspondence will be one sided from now on, but I'll always make sure to write enough to let you know that I am all right.

As much as I hate to admit it you were right about some things. The Americans might appreciate the help that the Mexicans, Asians and Africans are providing but that doesn't mean that they like us as people, to put it lightly. All of the friends I made at camp have been split up and sent to other troops. It's not fair to the men who are unable to speak English without a decent translator, but I truly pity the ones who were sent to aid the French. Though I think a language barrier is the least of our worries right now.

I have been sent to Egypt to assist the British myself and I must say that they are much more welcoming to our help. I play the trumpet for them regularly to improve morale and they call me the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Better than the stuff the Americans called me at least.

I was lucky enough to be stationed with Martin. I think he was the only reason I was able to get through training with a light heart. Unfortunately, that dreadful nurse at our training camp has been stationed here as well. As much as I try to get along with her, she is a harpy in a pretty package.

Despite the poor company and the dreadful rations that I have to choke down I do not regret my decision Papá. I see the destroyed buildings around me, the hurt citizens and the crying children and I can only hope that my presence here and my assistance will in some way keep this dreadful war far away from Santa Cecilia.

All my love to you and our family,

Mateo Rivera- October 1st, 1942

Héctor pressed the letter to his forehead and shakily exhaled. Despite his hectic shooting schedule and normally passing his time in an alcoholic haze he had kept up to date with the latest news from across the world. Now that Matty was no longer in the safety of the training barracks and now into the folds of war his worries had quadrupled in size. Praying silently that his boy would remain safe he folded the letter in half and moved to stuff it back into the envelope before he noticed an extra bit of writing on the back. Lifting it back up he read it, and what it said made his insides turn to ice.

P.S. Mamá sent me a care package while I was at camp. She even sent me a new pair of combat boots and a picture of her, Miguel and Rosita. She says I'm still an idiota but I think she has made peace with my decision. I should have known she wouldn't have stayed mad for too long, and I hope she has forgiven you too.

…...

Imelda had sent Matty boots.

…...

What?

WHAT?!

What had she said when Matty was leaving?! That he was stupid for risking his life, that she would never forgive him, that she wouldn't mourn over his dead body! And yet here she was sending him boots with every stitch and tack filled with love, ensuring that her boy would march throughout the arid African deserts without even the beginnings of a blister! She had forgiven her wayward child, but him?! Over four months of no contact from her! All phone calls to the shop ignored, all letters returned without being opened, not even giving him the chance to talk to his Miguelito! She had forgiven Matty for leaving the family to risk his life overseas, but she wanted nothing to do with her husband who would do anything in the world for her?!

Why?! WHY?!

With an angry growl he flung the letter away and leapt off the sofa and towards the bottle in his pillowcase. He couldn't take it anymore! To hell with Imelda, with Matty, this damn war and this stupid movie!

To hell with all of it!

"Señorita! Espera! Who are you with?!"

"Señorita Rivera! Who is that man and that child?! Are they family?"

Coco held her daughter close to her chest to shield her from the flashing lights of the cameras and the loud, persistent questions of the reporters as they followed her down the pathway towards Ernesto's mansion. On one side her beloved Julio was trying to cover them both from the bright flashes with his suitcase, and on the other Theresa was tightly gripping her arm and briskly leading them to the door. Despite Theresa's harsh whispers that she not say anything to the reporters, Coco was irritated. Not only were they invading her privacy in the very house she resided in but they were also calling her señorita. She had to set the record straight.

"This is my husband Julio and my daughter Victoria."

Coco winced at both the increase of flashing cameras and the feeling of sharp fingernails digging into her arm. The four of them hurried down the driveway as reporters began questioning about them in earnest.

"Husband?! How long have you been married?!"

"Was it a secret marriage?! Are you ashamed?!"

Coco glared at the reporters. "No! I have never been ashamed of my family! I love Julio more than-"

"Callate!" Theresa hissed and shoved the small family through the doors and slammed them shut, muffling the cries of the mob outside. "Perfecto. How many times have I told you to just keep on walking, maybe pose a little for pictures, and keep your mouth shut?"

"I had to let them know that I'm married Theresa!" Coco snapped. "What's wrong with that?"

"It takes away from your mystery." Theresa explained. "The less people know about your personal life, the more they give into their imaginations and idolize you. Desire you."

"I don't want that, Theresa. All I want to do is dance and be with my family!"

That was why Julio and Victoria were here. Tired of being apart all of the time Julio finally sold his shop and decided to move himself and Victoria into the mansion with Coco. Any happiness he and his daughter had felt at finally seeing Coco was dashed when they were swarmed by reporters the moment they had stepped out of the car. How had they known that they would be there? Were they following Coco's every move? Victoria took her face out from Coco's shoulder, biting her lip and trying not to cry.

"Estas bien, cielita." Coco cooed at her daughter. "They're noisy but they won't hurt you."

Victoria shook her head and tilted her chin up proudly. "I wasn't scared Mamá. I'm fine."

Julio leant forward to whisper in Coco's ear. "Miguel has been calling her a cry baby lately, so she's trying to act strong like Mamá Imelda. Her words, not mine."

"Ah."

"Coco!" Julio looked up and saw a man coming down the stairs towards them. A tall young man. A handsome man coming towards Coco and putting an arm around her. A strong arm from a tall, young, handsome man. Who was also looking at her with sweet concern. "Are you alright Coco?"

"Sí Vicente, I'm alright. Gracias."

"Theresa!" Vicente growled. "Why are there Papárazzi outside of the mansion? Where are the security guards?"

"I gave them the day off." Theresa shrugged arrogantly. "How was I supposed to know that they would choose today to swarm the place."

"It's called common sense, Theresa!" Vicente stood in front of Coco and puffed his chest out in intimidation, but Theresa merely raised a brow and Julio had to hold back a growl. "Especially since you know that there would be a child coming here today!... Unless you wanted them to take some photos of Coco's family."

"Nonsense! I would never do anything to endanger my client... Speaking of which shouldn't you be babysitting your employer?"

Vicente huffed. "I am the assistant to Héctor Rivera! To demean him in such a way is an insult to us both. It is an honor and a privilege to assist him in any way that I-"

"Hoooolaaaa!"

"...Mierde..."

All five of them looked up to see Héctor waving from the top of the staircase wearing the gaudiest serape they had ever seen and grinning broadly at them. "Hola mi familia! Long time no see!"

"Señor Rivera..." Vicente laughed nervously. "I thought you were having a meeting with Ernesto and the producers of the next stage show?"

Héctor snorted a laugh. "Sí sí I was. But you know how boooring I find them. 'Sides... Gotta greet mi yerno y mi nieta... What kinda host would I be if I didn't?"

"Ay... Alright fine, just don't slide down the bannisterNO!"

Héctor let out a loud grito as he slid down the bannister on one hip. Despite everyone holding out their hands in apprehension and fear Héctor managed to windmill his arms enough to slide gracefully down to the bottom and land with a triumphant leap. Standing straight up he proudly made his way towards them. "See? You worry too much Chente. I'm just fi-AAH!" A flash of fur shot out in front of his feet and he toppled over into a clumsy sprawl, groaning as four little chihuahuas licked at his face and pulled at the serape. "Pinche perros! Vete!"

Victoria scrambled out of her mother's hold and raced over to pick one of the dogs off of Héctor's face. "Abuelito, are you alright?"

Héctor blinked up at the little girl, his eyes glazed and watery, before smiling and pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Ay, Victoria. Just seeing you makes me feel like I'm on top of the world. Give Abuelito a hooorrp!-… Give Abuelito a hug!" He crushed Victoria to his chest and squeezed tightly, everyone wincing as the poor girl's eyes started to bug out. "Ooohhh, let me take a look at you! Qué niña tan bonita! You look just like your Mamá Imelda."

Victoria's nose crinkled. "Abuelito you smell funny."

"Ppppfft! HA! Ay mija, you hurt my feelings! Again, just like your Mamá Imelda... Ooh, here's a magic trick for you! What's that behind your ear?" Flicking his wrist clumsily three pesos shot out his sleeve and rolled out onto the floor, one of the chihuahuas yapping as he chased after it. "Ay, joder! No, dooon't repeat that mija!"

"Come here Victoria." Coco said as she picked up her daughter away from Héctor. "Ay Papá, maybe you should go to bed. You are in no condition to be around a child right now." She then turned her attention towards Vicente. "I'm so sorry that he's running you ragged."

Vicente sighed. "No no. Like I said it's... a privilege."

"Fine then go." Héctor grumbled with his arms crossed. "I'm not a child. I can take care of myself. I just... need a hand getting up."

"Here Papá Héctor, I'll take you to your room." Julio grasped Héctor's hand and grunted with exertion trying to lift his limp, dead-weight father-in-law off of the floor.

"Gracias, Señor Magallanes." Vicente said gratefully. "I could use a break actually. In the meantime, I'll see to it that your daughter is settled into her room comfortably. I can also use this opportunity to talk to you, Coco, about some ideas I have about the stage show coming up."

"Not without me, you're not." Theresa added.

Julio watched as the four of them walked away into the grand meeting room, taking careful of note how Vicente had placed his hand on his wife's back. Her lower back. Perfecto, he had just reunited with his wife and not five minutes after arriving another young, strapping tall man was putting his large, masculine hands on her! "Wait! Coco- Ay! Ugh, Papá Héctor you are heavier than you look."

"Heh heh... I'm dense... And I'm going down."

Julio managed to slow Héctor's descent until he was sitting propped up on the lowest step of the staircase, the four chihuahuas hopping into their laps and snuggling close. Julio sighed as he pet one of the dogs before looking at his father-in-law. "I've never seen you like this before, Papá Héctor."

"No no." Héctor swatted at Julio's shoulder and shook his head. "None of that. I don't want to hear it. I get enough of it from Chente and Coco. You should be like Ernesto. He doesn't care what I do as long as I write him pretty little songs... Although that won't last long." Héctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You know how many songs I've written since I moved in here?... Cero. Not one song. Not even a little ditty. I can't even hum anymore. Pretty soon Ernesto will see that the well has dried up and I'll be out of a home... Again..."

Julio frowned deeply at that. "Héctor..."

"Ah! That reminds me!" Héctor smiled and gestured widly, startling the two dozing pups in his lap. "You must tell me what's been going on in Santa Cecilia! I heard you closed the shop. I'm sorry about that."

Julio shrugged. "It was really my father's shop, but he's mayor now so he didn't care what happened to it. It was never a passion of ours, not like what you and your family do for a living. Just a profession. And it's worth it if it means I can stay with Coco and Victoria gets to be with her Mamá... I also sold the car Ernesto gave us for scrap metal. Don't get me wrong we loved that car but I just didn't think it was appropriate anymore, you know, what with it being... German."

Héctor tittered at that. "Sí maybe they'll melt it down into a bomb... Just as long as it doesn't hit my son... How is Miguel? I haven't talked to him in months, Dios knows I've tried..."

"He's fine. He misses you though. He asks about you every day."

Héctor smiled and scratched under one of the dog's chin. "I miss him too. So much... How's Imelda? Is she... happy that I'm not there anymore?"

"Well she's quiet most of the time. Unless Miguel is around she doesn't smile often."

Héctor stared off into space, seeming to process this new information, and then sagged slightly. "I see... You'd think I'd be satisfied that she's unhappy but... I actually can't stand the thought of it. Not even my absence is helping. Nothing I'm doing is helping..."

Julio brow crinkled in sympathy and he moved to touch Héctor's shoulder, but suddenly Héctor slumped forward suddenly. Startling the dogs off his lap he buried his face in his hands and started to shake. "Papá Héctor!"

"It's all ruined Julio!" Héctor cried out as large tears rolled down his cheeks. "My family is ruined! My wife hates me and won't let me come home and see my baby boy... I barely see Coco anymore... Matty is going to die on the other side of the world and I'll never see him again!... Ay my chest hurts! I'm so sick with worry about him I can't stand it!"

"Héctor-"

"Leti... Why did you have to go?"

Julio was shocked into silence as Héctor moaned out her name. Sighing sadly and casting his gaze downward, his own chest started to hurt. Risking any embarrassment this might have caused the both of them in any other situation, Julio pulled Héctor into a half hug as the older man leaned his head tiredly on his shoulder.

"It was all going so well... Until she died... I think their eighth birthday was the last time we were all truly happy... But now she's dead, and my son is trying his damnedest to join her." Taking a shuddering breath, he slumped further onto Julio's shoulder.

"Leti-ti-ti-ti-ticia, with flowers in her hair... Where are you off to in such a hurry, and can you take me there?... I wanna go there..."

Julio couldn't take anymore. Gathering himself up he reached down to pull Héctor into a full stand. "Papá Héctor, let's just get you to bed and get some rest, si?"

Héctor moaned and swayed as he pressed a hand into his eye. "My head hurts..."

"Sleep will help."

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, Héctor sniffed and gave Julio a watery smile. "Gracias Julio. I don't think you've been told this enough, but... You're a good man... Wonderful father... Would do anything... fer family."

Julio grinned and looped Héctor's arm around his shoulder again, ready to make the long trek up the stairs to Héctor's bedroom. "Gracias, Papá Héctor."

Héctor hummed a drunken laugh and stumbled as Julio led the way. "And I'm so... proud that you're my son-in-law. I'm so glad Matty married you."

"...Wrong kid, Papá Héctor."

"And your mustache... It's magnifico..."

"Gracias."

"... I wish I could grow one..."

"To our friendship! I would move Heaven and Earth for you, mi amigo! Salud!"

No... No no! Don't drink it. Say what you said before! Change my mind!

But no matter how much Ernesto tried to swat the shot glass out of Héctor's hand, his arm remained still and he calmly sipped at his own drink. Inside he was screaming. Struggling. But he felt his own brow furrowing in contempt as he watched as Héctor downed his poisoned tequila. It was like he was watching a film of himself. While his outside remained cool and collected, inside he was pounding on an invisible barrier in his mind.

Spit it out! PLEASE!

Héctor set the glass down with a smile and picked his suitcase back up. "It's time. I must go."

Ernesto could feel his face stretch into a smile. "I'll walk to the train station with you."

What am I saying?! I can't control myself! I can't control anything! What is going on?!

Walking down the narrow, barely lit streets of Mexico City, Ernesto and Héctor made their way towards a billowing train just waiting to be boarded at the station. But this wasn't how it happened. Héctor left on his own, leaving him in the hotel room alone with his anguish. Alone with his newfound horror of what his thirst for fame and fortune had nearly driven him to do. Yet here he was, jauntily strutting next to his little brother as they laughed and joked about stories of their past youth.

Why am I so happy? Don't you know what you've done, cabrón?!

Suddenly it happened. Héctor let out a startled, pained gasp and curled in on himself, digging his fists into his stomach. Ernesto screamed and clawed his way harder against the barrier in his mind, desperate for control over his traitorous body. But still, his hand- no, not my hand! It's not me! This is not my body! I didn't do this!- mockingly patted Héctor on the back while the other swiftly managed to pry the guitar case from Héctor's trembling grasp.

"Perhaps it was that chorizo, my friend?"

BASTARDO!

Ernesto watched in horror as Héctor made a few weak, trembling steps towards the train. He fell to his knees, gazing blindly for a few agonizing seconds, before collapsing hard onto the ground. His face smacked the cobblestone street hard enough for it to bounce back up, a small white piece of matter flying out of his mouth and plinking against the ground. A tooth. The body heaved a few more pained and strangled gasps, and then with one last gargle it was over. Héctor was dead. He killed him.

You killed him

No, I couldn't have. He's alive! Héctor!

As Ernesto cried and pleaded for Héctor to get back up, the Ernesto clone that he was trapped in placed a foot onto Héctor's shoulder and coldly flipped him over onto his back. The eyes were glazed over and unseeing, the lips stained with blood with a trail slowly dripping down his face. Kneeling down, the Ernesto body placed a finger onto Héctor's neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. Ernesto wept in anguish, screaming for it not to be true, for Héctor to get up. But the Ernesto body simply shook his head, stood up and said:

"Look what you made me do."

No! This isn't what happened! Héctor's alive! I didn't do this! I couldn't have done this. I couldn't! I couldn't!

….

BUT YOU WOULD HAVE

With a choking scream Ernesto shot up from his bed, tears running down his face and a cold icy sweat pouring out of his body. Shaking with terror his eyes adjusted to the dark room and he gasped as his heart pounded hard inside his chest. Running a shaking hand through his hair and swallowing back bile only one thought was on his mind.

Héctor!

A hand snaked over his chest and he jumped with fright, looking down at the person in his bed. Florencia moaned and wrapped an arm around Ernesto's trembling from. "Mmmm... Neto? What's wrong?"

"Get off of me!" Ernesto roared and flung the woman out of his way, ignoring her startled yelp as he leapt from the bed and raced towards the door. Having enough sense of decency to grab a robe to throw onto his naked form, he flung the doors opened and raced down the hallway towards what he knew was Héctor's room. Héctor was in there! Had been for the last four months! It was just a dream! Héctor was alive! Please! Reaching the room Ernesto nearly ripped the door off of its hinges and ran inside. "HÉCTOR!"

Héctor snorted from a deep sleep and sat straight up on the bed, swaying in bewilderment and blinking in confusion. Blurrily he gazed around the room until his eyes landed on Ernesto. "...Leg."

Ernesto had sagged with relief the moment he had laid eyes on Héctor, panting as the adrenaline left his bloodstream and his heart returned to a normal rhythm. When what Héctor had slurred out registered into his brain, however, his brow creased in confusion. "What?"

"Leg... I found your-… your leg. Your cork leg... The 'Mericans had it... I found it, presidente..."

Ernesto gaped in confusion before slapping his forehead with a groan. "Dios mio, what is it with you and Santa Anna?! Go to sleep, pendejo!"

Héctor hummed out a laugh. "Sleep, si. Gracias, presidente." Flopping back down onto the mattress he immediately erupted into large, deafening snores as Ernesto pulled the bedroom door closed again.

Slowly walking back down the hallway Ernesto let his body shake with the leftover terror from his dream. It was so real! He had honestly thought he was back in that hotel room all those years ago when he and Héctor had been young. And mixed in with all the fear, desperation and self-loathing he could also feel the clone's own feelings. Rage, greed, desperate hunger and a complete lack of care when Héctor drank that poison. The complete lack of empathy that he felt over murdering his best friend shook him to his core and made him feel sick. That wasn't him.

It could have been.

But I didn't do it.

Doesn't matter. You thought about doing it. Had it all planned out. A contingency plan in case Héctor tried to leave you and take away your dream.

And you were going to do it.

Damn the consquences.

When you see your moment, you mustn't let it pass you by. You must seize it!

You're a monster.

How could you live with yourself?

You should have just gone through with it all those years ago. Save yourself some sleepless nights.

Ernesto let out a shuddering sigh as he traced the raised scars on the underside of his wrists, remembering that night all too well. Too much to drink, too many voices in his head, his insides cramping so painfully with guilt guilt guilt GUILTY GUILTY! How could he have wanted to do that to his sweet little brother?! He was the one who needed to die. He was too dangerous to be around Héctor. What if he tried to do it again?! But the razor stung so much more than he thought it would, there was so much blood that it made him violently ill, and he was so frightened that he had ran out into the streets screaming and covered with blood. The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital room with bandages covering his wrists. Condemning himself to even more guilt and a lifetime of long sleeves and thick leather wrist bands.

Quite the fashion statement though, no? Everyone started wearing wrist bands after the great Ernesto de la Cruz started wearing them.

Bet they'd stop if they knew what you were hiding.

Such a coward. Can't even kill himself good and proper. Wouldn't want to deprive the world of his golden voice, would he?

The world is mi familia!

No, pendejo. Your familia is in a shoe shop in Santa Cecilia.

Or it was...

MONSTER

Pushing open his bedroom door he was greeted to Florencia sitting up in his bed. She had turned the lamps on and was lighting a cigarette, glaring at him as he came in. Blowing out a cloud of smoke she questioned, "What was that about Neto? What kind of man tosses a woman aside like basura?"

Ernesto gazed dully back at her, his face pale and his stomach flipping in on itself. He felt so sick. "Lo siento, Flor. I had... a very bad dream."

"Aww, Neto had a bad dream?" Arms snaked his way around Ernesto's sides and wrapped around his chest. Ernesto didn't even react as Andres leaned into the curve of his neck and hummed a laugh. "I would have thought we worked you out so much that you'd be too tired to dream."

Ernesto closed his eyes and sighed brokenly. He felt so cold, so empty, so unworthy of love that he simply leaned back into Andres' embrace and accepted the other man's touch. Anything to get his mind off of his demons. "I'm ready for more if you two are game."

"Oh you know we're always ready for anything." Florencia giggled as she rummaged through a leather satchel on the bed. Pulling out two baggies, one bleach white and one a tannish brown, she laid them out on the blankets in front on Ernesto. "What'll it be, Neto? Siesta or fiesta?"

Flicking between the two with an empty gaze Ernesto settled on the white bag. Picking up the brown bag he tossed it back to her. "Put that one away. I... don't want a sleep."

"Fiesta it is then!" Florencia squealed and dipped a pinky into the white powder to snort up quickly.

Ernesto was too tired to flinch when he felt Andres kiss him against the neck and push him over to the bed into Florencia's waiting arms. As he settled in for another night of depraved, mindless sinning, his thoughts turned to that family in Santa Cecilia. With hot tamales, beautiful music, the smell of leather and laughing children.

Despite my triumphant appearance, my soul and my bones are as weary as yours and everyone else's.

Truer words had never been spoken.