God help him, his first thought had been the tequila. The poison.

Then sense reasserted itself.

Ernesto had hardly lived a blameless life but he had never taken a life and he wasn't about to start now. Not when he could avoid it. He was hardly arrogant enough to assume that he could impulsively commit the perfect crime. Nor could he afford to begin to leave a trail of bodies lying in his wake, each just increasing the odds that he would be caught and lose everything.

Hector's work was very, very good. Certainly worth killing over. But it had always been good and had only improved with time. Who knew what he could produce in five years, ten? If he took what Hector had now then that was only a handful of songs to last him an entire – preferably very long – career and he could only imagine how difficult that would be to justify.

And he would rather not see Hector dead if possible. The man was his closest friend from childhood after all. He had stood up at Hector and Imelda's wedding and was honorary uncle to their young daughter. More to the point, Hector was the only one willing to join him in his grand quest to achieve fame and fortune though he knew Hector cared little for any of that. Ernesto had always been popular but it was one thing to always be the center of a crowd and quite another to have someone willing to follow you to the ends of the Earth for what was really more your dream than his.

"I could never hate you," Ernesto said honestly. Even if Hector did not end up surviving this day, it had nothing to do with hate. "But Hector, be reasonable. Where does this leave me?"

Hector turned around slowly. "I know you're disappointed, Ernesto. I know. You've been saying from the beginning, just one more town. Just one more. The very next one. Well it's been months and that is an awful lot of 'just one mores.' But say you are right. Say we really are getting close. I understand not wanting all of this to have been for nothing. But I have a family now. I have responsibilities."

"You made me a promise."

Hector sighed. "Yes but I made Imelda one as well and that was before God. I've done what I can, Ernesto. I've stayed even when every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just go home. Even when I've dreamt of nothing else since before we had even left."

Ernesto, rather valiantly in his opinion, resisted the urge to role his eyes. Hector always did have a poet's soul and while it undoubtedly contributed to his brilliant song writing, it did get rather tiresome at times. Poetry was the enemy of practicality, after all.

"So that means I'm supposed to be happy with you abandoning me?" Ernesto demanded.

Hector, rather insultingly, looked as those Ernesto were being the melodramatic one. "Always with the theatrics! I am not abandoning you, my friend, I am simply going home. And I-I cannot rule out that I will ever be willing to travel again but I have had my fill of it for now. My Coco must be getting so big now and Imelda tells me she has been hinting that she would like a sister."

How Hector thought explaining he wanted to leave so he could have sex with his wife would make Ernesto more open to the idea was beyond him. His was the only sex life he really had any interest in, after all.

"You can do this without me, my friend," Hector said gently. "I know you can. You know you can. It's just…it's not even nerves. You don't get nerves. I understand not wishing to do this alone but we both know that you will seize your moment with or without my help."

"Without your presence, perhaps," Ernesto said slowly. This was where he had to be careful. This was where it was literally a matter of life or death. He could only hope that it wouldn't come to that. He would not hesitate, whatever the outcome, but it would be such a shame. "But never without your help."

"You always have my help!" Hector exclaimed. "Though I do not know what I can possibly give you from back in Santa Cecilia except my prayers and my correspondence."

"As it happens, I do have a way that you can help me," Ernesto said. "A way that will allow me to send you on your way with nothing but well wishes."

"Some would say that it is the duty of one's best friend to do so regardless of whether they're being useful or not," Hector said dryly.

Ernesto waved that off. "You dream of family, Hector, I dream of music. It is as you say 'the world es mi familia'."

"You know that I meant that in entirely the opposite way from how you're looking at it, right?" Hector asked. "My world is my family."

"And my family is the world."

"It really doesn't work like that."

"You're only saying that because you don't understand the power of universal acclaim," Ernesto said.

"Uh-huh."

"The point is, I would never seek to get in the way of your dream so why would you want to get in the way of mine?"

"Me not giving my life for your dream is hardly 'getting in the way'," Hector said, rolling his eyes. "And you absolutely got in the way of my relationship with Imelda!"

Ernesto frowned. "No, I really don't remember that."

"You told her 'Everyone Knows Juanita' was based on her."

"You never spoke of any other woman half as much as you spoke of her. It was an honest mistake to make."

"You told her father I had a habit of climbing into the bedroom of innocent maidens!"

"I thought the sarcasm was implied," Ernesto said.

"You somehow managed to show up every time I was going to propose to her for an entire month."

"Santa Cecilia is really not that big of a village, Hector, and how was I supposed to know about your secret plans? And don't even tell me it was because you told me because I don't recall you giving me a schedule."

"And thank goodness or I would still not be engaged," Hector muttered. "What about when you booked the-"

"So paranoid! Why do you spend time with me, Hector?" Ernesto asked sarcastically, completely ignoring the fact that he had done all that and more. It was nothing against Imelda or the girl, simply that Hector never seemed to have his priorities straight after he had fallen in love. Perhaps if it had not been for Imelda, he wouldn't currently be holding his best friend's life in his hands. But best not be petty. She was no true musician, how could she possibly understand?

"Little known fact, I am actually a saint in the making," Hector said, smiling modestly.

Ernesto couldn't help but laugh at that.

"I will offer you what help that I can, Ernesto, you know that but I am not about to agree to anything without knowing the terms. Not after what happened with the fiesta and Father-"

"Yes, well, that did get a bit out of hand," Ernesto interrupted. "Still, it all worked out in the end."

Hector merely crossed his arms expectantly.

"I want to continue performing your songs," Ernesto said bluntly. "You have your book with you in your bag, I saw you put it there. Well, I say leave me a copy of the songs you are done with. It will be almost as good as having you with me."

"It's nice to know you keep me around for my songs," Hector said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, I would absolutely keep you around if you couldn't write," Ernesto said. "Just maybe not on tour. And since you can, why not take advantage?"

"The fact you're phrasing it as 'taking advantage'…"

"God, Hector, you are the wordsmith not me."

Still Hector hesitated. "I don't know…"

Ernesto spared a quick glance at the tequila before looking back at his friend, silently willing him not to make this difficult. "Why not? You never had any doubts about letting me use them before."

"That was different," Hector protested. "That was when I was there to have some say in how you were using them."

Ernesto raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Hector flushed. "Well, yes, I do appreciate that I'm the one choosing to leave when you would have me stay. But Ernesto, you know that I write from the heart."

So Hector insisted on bringing up at least three times every time they spoke of his writing.

"I do, yes. But you know how I have been using your songs and you have not taken issue with that. You know I would never want to do anything to hurt you, my friend."

Wanting to and be fully willing to were two very different things but somehow he doubted that Hector would appreciate that distinction.

"Some of the songs are fine," Hector said slowly. "Everyone Knows Juanita is fine. Un Poco Loco is fine. Chasing a Dream is fine. But other songs…Remember me, for instance. I couldn't bear to see that become your next bombastic sensation."

"It's one song, Hector. I can leave one song well enough alone," Ernesto said, wondering vaguely why Hector seemed to think he had any interest in trying to make a simple lullaby into something worth dancing to.

"There will be others," Hector said. "There have been others, in fact, I simply have not shown them to you."

"I'm not demanding to inspect every inch of your journal, Hector," Ernesto said impatiently. "Just leave me the songs that you are willing to let me share with the world. Just send me new songs when you have them. I will give you credit and a share of what fortune I manage to win. That's all I ask."

Hector was quiet for a long time, clearly thinking about it. "I never wrote those songs for the world, you know."

"I do but what do those songs lose from being shared? Your music touches everyone who hears it. It would be cruel to deprive the people of such talent."

Hector chuckled. "You're laying it on a little thick there."

"It's nothing more than what we've already been doing except you'll have to trust me more since you won't be there," Ernesto insisted.

"What happens if I say no?" Hector asked solemnly.

Ernesto picked up the bottle of tequila. "Then I pour us each a shot and walk you to the train station. What else can I do?"

Hector thought for a few moments before giving a decisive nod. "That sounds fair. I suppose I can wait one more night to go home to my family, to give me time to leave you a copy of the songs. And to find someone to put all this in writing."

Ernesto made a face. "A contract, Hector? Are you serious?"

"It is best to make these things as black and white as possible, my friend. Friendship and business do not always mix well and if Imelda loses any more faith in my ability to be sensible I am worried what she will do."

Ernesto looked consideringly between the bottle in his hands and the teasing grin on Hector's face. After a long moment, he set the tequila down. "Alright but no shot for you."

"Ernesto!" Hector protested.

"Tequila is for good friends who trust their friends and don't make them sign legal papers."

Hector hadn't written to tell them he was coming home. It was such a sudden decision that he wasn't sure the letter would arrive before he did and he rather selfishly wanted to see the delighted surprise on their faces when he arrived.

Ernesto had done as they agreed though he had complained the entire time and Hector had no doubt that 'remember that time you didn't trust me not to steal your songs' would be used to counter every example of Ernesto being ridiculous he might mention for years to come.

It was only being smart but he could understand why Ernesto would feel hurt regardless. And why he would completely overreact because Ernesto would not be Ernesto if he did not have to turn everything into a legend or a disaster. It really made life more exciting. Hopefully Ernesto would be so pleased with the songs and his future success that he would bring it up slightly less often than he had while walking Hector to the train. He didn't actually think it was possible for Ernesto to bring it up more.

He happily returned the greetings of his neighbors as he walked briskly home. It was good to see all of them again but nothing compared to what it would be like to see his wife and his baby girl. They would have to take a new photograph soon. This time perhaps Coco could stand proudly next to her parents.

His house came into view and he stopped abruptly, wonderstruck at the sight of the one place he wanted to be more than any other. The place he had been every night in his dreams. He urged his legs forward but couldn't seem to move. His bags dropped to his feet.

The door suddenly flew open.

"Papa! Papa!"

Coco burst out of the house in a flash and was in his arms before he knew it. His heart ached at the sight of her. When had she gotten so big?

"My Coco," he said reverently, scooping her up and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I knew you'd come back soon! I just knew it! Mama said to wait, that you hadn't written you were coming back, but I knew."

"Of course you did," Hector replied, smiling. "Have you been singing our special song?"

Coco pulled back to look at him seriously. "Every night."

She looked so cute he just had to spin her around and listen to her laugh echo through the street.

"Coco," Imelda said, coming to stand in the doorway. "Coco, what-"

She trailed off and dropped the towel she had been holding but she didn't seem to notice. There was something about love that made everything else disappear. He should remember that and try to put it in a song.

"Hector," Imelda said, trying to keep her voice casual. She moved closer to them. "You came back."

"I said I was going to."

"I told you not to bother to come back if you left us," Imelda said, moving closer still.

"And here I thought you were too practical to seriously punish a man for being gone awhile by forcing him to be gone forever," Hector said teasingly. "I can go if you want-"

"Don't you dare," she interrupted.

"I know, my love, you would miss me too much," Hector said smugly.

"I am only thinking of Coco. A girl should grow up with a father."

"And I need a brother," Coco piped up.

"A brother?" Hector asked, surprised. "I thought it was a sister you wanted."

"I still want one of those," Coco said. "But now I want a brother, too."

"So demanding!" Hector teased. "But I will try my very best to accommodate you."

"I just bet you will," Imelda said dryly.

"Of course I will need your assistance here," Hector told her.

"My assistance? If anything, I will be requiring your assistance," she countered.

He shrugged. "I accept those terms."

"Well it may have to be awhile before I can grant you your wish, Coco," Imelda said.

Coco nodded authoritatively. "I know. Tío Oscar told me it takes nine months to make a baby."

"Very good but it may take longer than that because I am very angry with your father for going away like that," Imelda explained.

Coco nodded cheerfully, taking her mother's words in stride. "I can wait."

"Now, Imelda, that doesn't make any sense," Hector said. "You said you were very angry with me eight months ago. Isn't that time enough to move past things?"

"It might be," she said sweetly. "If the thing I would hypothetically be moving past wasn't you leaving and the eight months wasn't the duration of the time that you were gone."

Hector frowned. "No, I don't think that's right."

Imelda gave him a look and Hector gently set Coco back on the ground. He took a step closer to his wife.

"I was this close to giving you up for dead," she announced.

"I expect the joyful reunion when I returned would truly be spectacular so I'll allow it."

"You came back," she said again, taking another step closer. She reached up and traced a finger down his jawline.

He shivered pleasantly. "Are you still stuck on that point? No wonder you think we may need that extra time to grant Coco her wish."

"Don't be an idiot. Part of me thought I'd never see you again."

"I'd like to think I have not proven so untrustworthy that you think I would wander around touring forever," Hector said. He thought a moment. "Nor so incompetent that I would get lost and not be able to find my own way back. Though you may have a point about Ernesto not being a reliable source for directions."

She playfully hit him. "That's not it at all. It's a big, dangerous world out there and you have no sense."

"I thought you just said that wasn't what you thought!"

"I didn't think you'd get lost or choose to leave us," Imelda clarified. "I'd only believe that if you – or Ernesto if you were that much of a coward – wrote me to tell me yourself."

"I will have you know that when I left I got Ernesto to sign a contract guaranteeing me credit and a share of the profits for any of my songs he ends up using."

Imelda raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh, you do one smart thing and now you're not the man who managed not to notice I was pregnant for four months."

"You know, most wives would have just told their husbands," Hector pointed out.

"I was going to but then at some point your inability to notice became insulting."

"Imelda," Hector said gently, taking her hand. "I'm so sorry that I left you feeling that way. Our rule is to never go to bed angry so I shouldn't have left you so angry either. And I'm sorry I left. I thought it was the right thing but how could it be when I missed you so terribly the whole time I was gone?"

"And I'm sorry for writing new obituaries every week about stupid ways you got yourself killed and sending them to my brothers."

Hector looked at her for a moment and burst out laughing. "You are the most creative individual I have ever met. I love you."

"I love you, too," Imelda said. "I love you especially now that you've come home to me."

"Oh, you've accepted that now, have you?"

"Well it's not like you bothered to write to tell me you were coming! You just expect me to drop everything to welcome you back. You are lucky we are even home."

"When a man is so in love and has such a beautiful daughter and numerous future children to think of, how can he possibly take the time to write before rushing home?" Hector asked reasonably.

"I will have you know that this explains so much about you," Imelda said.

Whatever Hector was planning on saying next was lost as she pulled him into a kiss.

"I want a sister first!" Coco called out.

Imelda was the first to pull away and she looked seriously at him. "You are forgiven. But if you decide to leave me again, I may or may not chase you out of the village with shoes."

Hector nodded, accepting his fate. It wouldn't come to that anyway. "Shoes? Why shoes?"

"While you were off playing with Ernesto-"

"I mean, that's really not how I would phrase that."

"I decided that waiting for you to send money was bad for my nerves so I have taken up shoemaking."

"Why shoemaking?" Hector asked.

"Shoes are practical. Everyone needs them, they take skill, and you will always get repeat customers as people grow or shoes wear out," Imelda said.

"Shoemaking is the least romantic thing I can possibly imagine," Hector told her.

"That is good! We need one of us to have some sense and, contract aside, I really do not expect that that will ever be you."

"Well it is a good thing that I am back now as my very presence will surely inspire the romanticism that is an essential part of any good business," Hector said cheerfully.

"I really do not think you know anything about businesses," Imelda said. "And what? You want to help?"

"I still intend to write, of course, but I want to become a more active part of this family again and if we are to be shoemakers then I will happily make shoes."

"Shoemaking is not easy," Imelda cautioned.

"From you I would expect nothing less, my love."