DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

San Angel was a town of simple souls. Most of its people had never been more than ten miles away from the house where they were born, and its placement far off the beaten path ensured that visitors from the outside were a rare occurrence indeed. It had to provide for itself in most things, and that included entertainment. Gossip and rumors were quick to fly about the confines of the small island, especially when everyone knew who was being discussed. It was a time-honored tradition to sit at bars or around dinner tables and talk of what had been heard. Yet this was barely enough, for the truth of the news was elusive and its subjects almost always the same.

But every once in a while, something spectacular happened.

Lanterns lit the townsfolk's anxious faces as they crowded around the front of the Casa de Sanchez, where they had been since that afternoon. It was late into the night now, perhaps into the next day, and there was still no word of Maria's condition. They assumed she was still alive, at least - they would have heard by now had something gone wrong.

A scream came from within the house, high-pitched and frantic, and the townsfolk flinched at the sound. Poor girl, they whispered. The first birth is always hard.

"That isn't going to help," Joaquin said as he and General Posada looked down at the figure they were currently sitting on.

"Get off me!" Manolo yelled, continuing to thrash.

"Only if you promise to stay out here," his father-in-law answered.

He glared at them but nevertheless stopped moving. "Fine."

This satisfied the other two men, who began to stand up. "Now that wasn't so - "

They were thrown to the ground shrieking as Manolo leapt out from under them and ran down the hall towards the room where his wife was being kept. "Maria!"

He was nearly to the door when someone tackled him to the ground yet again. "Hey, man, what you wanna go in there for?" Pepe Rodriguez said, trying to sound casual. "It isn't exactly a party."

We can't keep doing this. Joaquin looked around the hall for a solution that didn't involve crushing his friend and saw a closet door. "Sorry about this, amigo. Pancho, open that up!" Picking Manolo up, he carried the struggling young man to the closet and tossed him inside. The five of them shut the door and held it closed as Manolo repeatedly threw himself at it from the other side.

"Um…how long is this gonna work?" Pablo asked nervously.

"As long as it needs to," Joaquin answered. "Hopefully."

The door on the other side of the hall opened, and Ixa stuck her head out. "Is everything alright?"

"What, with us?" her husband answered. "Oh, yeah! Totally! Never been better!" They all smiled as the closet door rattled again, their expressions exhausted and slightly unhinged.

"We heard shouting," Ixa continued. "She wants to know if Manolo is doing well."

"You can tell her that her son's father has a very colorful vocabulary," General Posada remarked.

"I heard that!"

The old man punched the closet door, eliciting a yelp of shock from within. "All she needs to worry about is herself and that child."

Ixa slowly nodded and shut the door, leaning against it.

"Well?" one of the nuns asked. "What did they say?"

"I do not think this was a very wise idea…"

"Let him in."

All the women's eyes turned to stare at their patient. "Absolutely not," said the midwife. "It wouldn't be proper."

Maria was sitting up in bed, straining from the effort of movement. She was covered in sweat, and she grimaced as she tried to take deep breaths. "I can calm him down," she managed to say. "He'll listen to me."

"But it's almost time - "

"Hurry up, then!" She groaned as another contraction sent her slumping backwards.

Ixa nodded and opened the door, pausing at the strange sight now before her. The men were pushing against the closet door, barely able to keep it closed. "She says he can come in."

"Wait, what?"

The pause was enough for Manolo to shove against the door one last time and send the others tumbling backwards. Rushing past them, he hurried into the room. "Where's Maria?" He saw her a moment later and ran to her side, fearfully looking her over. "Are you alright?"

"Have you been causing trouble out there?" she asked, giving him a dark look.

"I wanted to make sure you were - "

"I'm fine, Manolo," she said. "And so's the baby. They say it won't be long now." She lifted up a hand, and he took it in both of his.

"How do you feel now?" the midwife asked her.

"Ow…"

The older woman looked down, and then up again. "I think I see something! Push!"

Gritting her teeth, Maria did as she was told. The pain flared up and dulled once again.

The women gathered around her, talking at once. "The head's crowning! Just a little bit longer!"

She pushed again, and a burning, stinging pain erupted through her as though something was slowly ripping her apart. She gasped, and a strangled cry came with it. Manolo stiffened, and she thought she heard him mumbling a prayer under his breath.

The other men peered in through the open doorway, their eyes wide. Ixa blanched and gagged, staggering away from the bed. "I don't feel well…"

"Not now!" the midwife snapped.

Maria gripped her husband's hand so tightly that she thought it might break. Her head was spinning, and her vision turning spotty. I can do this, she thought as she moaned. I can do this.

"Did you hear that?" Manolo whispered to her. "Just one more."

With the last of her strength, Maria steeled herself, closed her eyes and pushed.

The pain seemed to burst and subside into a throbbing soreness. She was aware of several things: the women chattering, Ixa vomiting into a bucket of water, the men trying to get into the room, Manolo brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her. Above all, she was aware of the tiny wailing that came from the other side of the room.

She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. "I want to see."

"Just a moment," the midwife said. "We're cleaning her off."

"Out of my way!" General Posada shouted, shoving his way into the room. "Well? Where's the boy?"

"There is no boy, señor."

He looked confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a granddaughter."

The old man's eyes bugged out. "Qué?"

A girl. They had a girl. Maria grinned and gently nudged Manolo. "Guess you're not so crazy now, huh?"

Her husband didn't answer, or even acknowledge her. He simply sat in a daze and watched as the squirming little figure was wrapped in a quilt, carried back to the bed and placed in Maria's arms.

She was still struggling slightly, but her cries subsided once she was with her mother. Her skin was a soft brown like his, and small tufts of dark hair were growing on her head. He couldn't tell which of their eyes she had gotten since they were still closed. Doesn't matter now. She's safe. They both are.

"Sssshhhh," Maria said, holding the baby close as it cried out a few more times. "It's alright, mija. Mama's here." The girl seemed to understand this, because she calmed back down almost at once. Maria then looked to him, lifting the bundle up. "Do you want to hold her?"

Manolo's throat closed up, and all he could do was nod.

"And here's your papa," Maria said to the child as she handed her over. "You know him. He's the one who sings to you."

It was the strangest and yet most logical thing. He had been to Heaven and the realm of the gods, come face to face with those otherworldly beings, seen things no mortal could possibly dream of. Yet this little person was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes upon.

"Hola," he choked out, carefully cradling her."I've been waiting a long time to meet you…"

The tears came slowly at first, then steadily as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

All of the women smiled, and even General Posada seemed to soften a bit at the sight. "So, did you have a name in mind?"

"Ofelia," Maria said. "It was his idea."

"Ofelia Sanchez," Ixa mused. "I like it!"

The general rolled his eyes but nodded. "He picked one with a good ring to it, at least."

The nuns shrieked and scattered as Joaquin came running into the room with the Rodriguez brothers on his heels. "I wanna see! I wanna see! Where is she?" When he saw Manolo holding the baby, he squealed. "Hey there, little buddy! I'm your Uncle Joaquin! And you are so cute!"

Hours later, the visitors had all been cleared away and the night was still once more. Maria had fallen asleep not long after the birth. Her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, and a smile was still on her face. Manolo remained awake, sitting in a chair as he held Ofelia. She had begun crying again, and his voice was soft and gentle as he sang a lullaby to her. Before long, she was sleeping once more.

He stared down at her in wonder, a part of him still fearing she would vanish with the morning. "You're safe with me, mija," he whispered. "Safe and loved, always. I promise." He had fought his way from death back into life for her, even before she was a thought, and he would gladly do so again.

Placing his daughter back into her crib, he sank into his chair and drifted into a dreamless slumber.