Chapter Text
Sergio has killed, maimed, has been the target, has known all there is to know about loss, but he has never been as terrified as when he saw Martín outside the ER. He has never seen someone look that completely lost, has never identified so much terror.
“How long has he been inside?”
“24 minutes,” Martín answered absently, staring at the wall opposite him.
Sergio nodded.
“How bad is it?”
Martín was silent for a long moment.
“Bad,” he finally said.
“He’ll be alright,” Sergio says because he doesn’t know what else to say and he feels as if sitting beside a ticking bomb.
“He fucking better be,” he croaks out, his voice breaking, as if he could save him by will alone. His tears started to spill, he took a shaky breath, wiping them violently. “He better be— fuck ”
“What happened?”
“I don’t—Fuck, I don’t care if he leaves, I don’t care if he never shows me his face again, just let him live,” he pleaded, not looking at Sergio. He didn’t know who he was begging.
Sergio reached to put a hand on his back, nearly flinching at how violently his entire body was shaking.
They waited there for seemingly endless time but it was realistically another 70 minutes before he got out. Martín immediately ran to him. Sergio froze and felt his insides twist the second he laid his eyes on him, seeing his entire body in casts. He pulled one doctor aside and was told they can’t tell him anything for sure now.
So they waited. Soon enough the lobby was filled. Raquel and Paula came first.
Paula sat on Martín’s side when they finally succeeded in kicking him out from Andrés’ side. Silene, who has been trying to hide from Raquel for the past days, came as well. Sergio still didn’t get the chance to talk to her about what happened, but he couldn’t find it in him to care about anything other than Andrés at this point. She sat by his side and just put her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He’s occasionally still amazed by her emotional honesty, how effortless it is for her to love and show it. He patted her wrist as they sat quietly.
Andrés seemed to be getting stable but still hasn’t woken up, it calmed Sergio slightly, but Martín was still absent.
Paula was drinking orange juice from a box, which doesn’t taste as nice as the one her mum makes, but she drank it anyway when Sergio sat by her side. She wasn’t exactly thinking it when she blurbed it out.
“I told you.”
“Hm?” he turned to her.
“That night, I told you it was Silene, and you didn’t listen to me.”
“Huh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, can you forgive me?” she looked down and he had his hand reached. He stared at her, which always creeps her out, but not so much this time, until she shook it. He smiled at her, a little sadly.
“Aren’t you going to punish her?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
“Maybe? She kidnapped my grandma!”
Sergio chuckled, nothing was funny. “Yes, but she only did it because she was scared for me. And she’s family.”
That made no sense to Paula but she said nothing.
“If you made a mistake, and you made it only because you believed something that turned out to not be true, wouldn’t you like Mama to forgive you? Wouldn’t you like me to tell you ‘ It’s okay, you won’t get grounded this time’ ?”
“Not if I stole someone’s grandma,” she murmured, she doesn’t even know why she would ever believe untrue things. Sergio only laughed, patting her head.
Sergio got up after a while, so she sat watching the people around her. She noticed Martín getting out of a room and walking away, she counted to 90 before he came back with a cup of coffee. He sat on her side but didn’t seem to notice her.
Paula doesn’t know what made her say it but she was itching to do it, couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I poisoned Silene’s boyfriend,” she whispered.
He turned to her then, “He was poisoned?” he said with a chuckle in his voice.
“Yes. He thinks tio did it but it was me,” she confessed.
Martín only laughed. “Andrés would love that,” he said, then stopped laughing abruptly, turning away again.
“Will I go to jail?” she asked.
He chuckled softly. “You could, yes. There is a special corner in prison for poisoners, especially poisoners who are children,” he said. “But you can get away with it if I don’t tell anyone.”
“Will you?”
He stared at her, his eyes were so red it scared her a bit. “I’ll think about it.”
Once Andrés got stable enough they transferred him to a regular room. He still didn’t wake up, but Martín had already attached himself to his bed-side when Sergio got in.
Raquel stood in the far end of the room. Martín didn’t seem to care that either of them were in the room, his eyes fixed on Andrés as he held his hand to his chest, leaning his mouth to it. It made Sergio feel as if he were intruding on something private, worse than when he walked on them having sex. He couldn’t help but look away, meeting Raquel’s eyes.
“If I didn’t let him walk away—”
“Accidents happen, Martín,” Sergio said, not entirely believing it, but unnecessary blame wasn’t what they needed now. “Out of everything, this one wasn’t your fault.”
“It seems every time he’s away from you, something terrible happens to him,” Raquel said.
“Are you saying I put a curse on him?” Martín turned with furrowed brows.
Raquel laughed. “Maybe. It’s not far-fetched to believe this entire family is cursed.”
It took Andrés a few more hours to fully wake up, he showed signs earlier but fell back in unconsciousness right away. Raquel was the one left alone with him. Sergio took Martín to bring clothes for him and drive Paula home.
“You know, I was waiting for you to wake up just to slap you,” the shape that slightly resembles his sister-in-law says.
“What changed then?” he asked weakly, trying a chuckle that turned into a cough.
“Well, it seems like you got your due of harm this past week,” she shrugged and sat on the chair on his side. “And, for all it’s due, I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done inside.”
Andrés nodded at her. Not entirely sure what she was talking about.
“Somehow, Paula seems to like you as well. She doesn't like too much salt in her food though, you should know that.”
That prompted a laugh out of Andrés which made his chest hurt.
Consciousness seems to be trying to run away from him, he can’t hold a thought, but something is nagging at him: the room is empty, save for Raquel. He tried to turn to look all around, but it itself is a difficult task. But there’s an image in his mind, of Martín, here. He thought he saw him.
“Did—”
“Did Martín come? Did he stay here every single day and cry by your bedside for hours straight like a widowed victorian woman? Did he physically assault a bunch of nurses when they tried to tell him visiting time is over?” Raquel humors. “I don’t want it to be the answer: but yes.”
Andrés nodded, the ache in his heart feels unrelated to the accident now. “It doesn’t make a difference,” he said.
“No, of course not, what difference could it make?” Raquel says, and he’s not hurt enough to miss the mocking tone.
Andrés doesn’t say anything, trying to focus on the physical pain instead.
“Sergio managed to take him away to get some of your stuff. He’ll be so angry to find you woke up while he’s not here.”
“I don’t want to see him,” Andrés insists.
“Oh, get over yourself,” Raquel dismisses, leaning back in her chair. Making him turn sharply.
“Pardon?”
She looked at him for a moment, then closed her mouth and Andrés noticed the slight change in attitude. If she was going to mock him further, she seems to have decided against it.
"You have a choice to make here, Andrés? Will you choose your ego?"
"This has nothing to do with my ego."
"It has everything to do with it. Are you willing to live this life, without him, to prove a point? That you can't be taken advantage of, that no-one and nothing can cross you without consequences, are you really willing to turn your entire life into an empty argument ?"
"Coming from experience, hermana?" Andrés snorted.
"It is, yes," Raquel admitted. "What an exhausting, futile fight that would be. What a hill made out of ashes to die on, alone and prideful. I've fought enough in my life. I'm not interested in doing it anymore, what would the goal be? I don't want to end up with air in my palm, do you?"
“So you’re willing to forgive betrayal?”
"It seems to me that Martín betrayed everyone for you, not the other way around. Not a very admirable trait, mind you, but it's the objective truth."
“Is it? Every single day he woke up and lied to me.”
"Does it matter? Does it truly matter? He lied to you, yes, but not all lies are the same. Do you think he lies when he says he loves you, did you believe him dishonest when he killed men for your sake? I married a man who I knew every single fact about. From the first moment, I knew his birth-place, his full name, the names of his childhood friends, every single grade he got, knew what he liked to drink, who he liked to hang out with, knew his parents, the names of his grandparents and his second-grade teacher. I knew everything there is to know about another person, and I thought that meant everything. But I was a fool, I knew nothing at all that mattered.” She paused, “I’m no longer that fool, I understand it all now. That’s the thing about betrayals, no? It’s difficult, humiliating too, I won’t lie to you. Much easier to choose your pride, to say ‘no, I can destroy you too’ and the thing is, you can. You can wake up every single day, look the one you love in the eye, the one who betrayed you and think it. And you’ll be right. He’ll know it too, and every night he’ll still sleep safely in your arms. Because he knows he’ll forgive you anything, because he knows and you do too, that he’ll still choose you above all else. It's your choice, hermano .”
When Andrés woke up again, it was Martín by his bedside. His own hand between Martín’s, he was pressing his forehead to it so Andrés couldn’t see his face.
“How long has it been since you showered?”
Martín looked up immediately, he stared up at him before he burst in tears, leaving his hand to grasp his face.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry Andrés, I thought you'd die—you’re alright,” he traced his face, looking all over it, “you’re alive. Fuck, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” he took a shaky breath, “I’ll leave you be,” he said, attempting a smile, his warm hand still on his face, “I just wanted too make sure—fuck, I was so scared, so scared—I’ll leave once you’re alright, just allow me this—”
Andrés tried to shush him; he surprisingly took no solace in how pained he looked. Martin took Andrés’ hand again, and Andrés noticed that he wasn’t wearing his ring, so he turned a little to look on the bedside table.
“I didn’t want you to think I was here to force myself on you, as I said, I’ll—”
Andrés was in enough pain already, he couldn't do this to himself. Or to Martín.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, his voice hurt with every word. “Put it back on.”
Martín’s eyes brightened, “What?”
“I can’t repeat myself, Martín. Have some decency, I’m tired—” Marin caught the words from his mouth, pressing his lips to his. The cuts hurt, but he couldn’t help but kiss him back. He never could.
Language didn't hinder children as much as she thought it would. As far as she could tell from watching Axel with his new friends. He turns to her as he climbs up the slide and she waves at him. With a grin, he turns back to his friends, but she's still looking at him, unable to stop smiling.
"Is this seat taken?"
She turns to say no, but as she looks up, she's unable to speak. Alicia smiled at her. And Agata still found her breath lost at her beauty. She had the baby in her arms, she reached to take back her cover from her face a bit. Still so young but Agata could tell she will look like her mother, she has the same hint of the devil in her eyes.
"Do you want to hold her?"
"Yes," the answer rolled off her tongue immediately.
Alicia placed the girl carefully in her arms and took her place on the bench by Agata's side.
"What's her name?" she asked as the girl looked serenely up at her.
"Germana," Alicia answered. She heard her take a deep breath by her side. "Named after her father."
Agata turned to look at her and she understood. After a moment she nodded at her.
"She's beautiful."
"She is, yes."
With Alicia's daughter held peacefully in her arms, she turned to the sight in front of her again.
"Nairobi is a beautiful city," Alicia said.
"It is, yes."
She took a deep breath as she remembered a talk she had with her before as they laid between the sheets.
"Don't you get the desire to burn your entire life to the ground, burn alongside it and rise again from the ashes?" Alicia had said out of nowhere.
"For what?" she had answered.
"The freedom. The beauty."
Agata hummed then. "Sounds like escapism to me," she laughed.
"There is no cowardice in that. It's not fair to go through only one life. We're not made for that."
"Maybe not. But who is to say?"
"We do," Alicia had turned to her, with a smile she didn’t wear often.
She wore it now.
“Ours will be better,” Daniel whispered to Monica as he watched the men say their vows.
Monica laughed. “That’s a little too much, I like smaller weddings.”
“Okay, yeah, we can have a small one that is better than theirs.”
“It’s not a competition,” she whispered, “And shut up now before they kill us.”
“I won’t let anyone touch you, Monica, I would protect you and our son with my life!” he answered seriously, only making her laugh.
“What about our daughter?”
His eyes lit up. “We’re having twins?”
“What? No. I meant what if it’s—”
They got a shush from the back, and Monica turned to see who it was.
“It’s rude to speak during the vows! Unless you’re aww-ing” her little friend said, probably repeating what she has been told.
“Sorry,” Monica chuckled, gesturing a zipper on her lips. Paula leaned back to see the rest of it. Martín didn’t frown like squidward today, which made her smile; he looks better like that.
Sergio wrapped his arms around Raquel as he watched her trying to convince Paula that she should call him papa.
"I just don't get it. I already have one."
No you don't, Sergio thinks, but he says nothing.
"You can't have two dads!" she added, to which Martín snapped his head back from the chit-chattering he was engaged in with a ' hey!'
Andrés laughed, his arms around Martín’s waist. “Since when do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t but that’s not the point. You’re homophobic, Paula.”
“We didn’t have that talk with her yet, Martín.”
“What talk? She just attended our wedding! Should she see us—”
Sergio put his hands around her ears immediately as Raquel clasped her hand around his mouth.
Andrés slowly removed it, and replaced it with his mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck. Martín immediately brought him closer. After a disgusting long moment, Andrés pulled back with a smug smile. “See? That’s way more effective.”
Sergio just shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile at them. He had been so preoccupied with the danger Martín proposed, he had missed to notice that he had never seen his brother as truly happy as he was him. It’s worth the danger, he thought, as he pulled Raquel closer.
But still, they need to pay.
The woman took out her gum and attached it under the table, leaning back. “I suppose I don’t need to repeat my question.”
“She’s with her uncles,” Raquel said, smugly, as she leaned back. “They took her to America, just sent us pictures, do you want to see?”
Sergio had given Martín Tatiana in exchange for that, but it’s worth it. So as Andrés and Martín celebrated their honeymoon in the states, Tatian laid bleeding out in Martín’s basement, alone.
Martín squinted at the sun as he watched some princess steal Paula away. He’s 99% sure Andrés only agreed to this to punish him. He’ll gladly take it.
“Aren’t you enjoying your honeymoon, Martín?” He smiled, putting his arm around his shoulder.
“Immensely,” he smiled back, “I couldn't ask for anything better.”
“Look at her, wouldn’t you love to have one?”
Andrés stared at him, watching his face change three different colors in two seconds. “If you want it, sure, whatever you want, Andrés, you’ll get—”
Andrés burst out laughing, “Look at your face, you totally believed it!”
“Now, this is just cruel,” Martín said, pulling him in for a kiss.
Still amazed that he’s allowed, that Andrés still kisses him back, that he still loves him. That Martín doesn’t have to live in fear of his secrets anymore. He still has him; nothing, and noone could take him from Martín now.