And... here we are, the epilogue. I posted this at the same time as the previous chapter, so go back and read that first if you haven't already!

Another huge thanks to my betas, Jaywings and PaperGardener. You guys are the best.

This entire fic took over a year and a half to complete, but it's finally done. I hope you guys enjoy!

The sun was already setting, and Héctor, for once, was in high spirits… so it seemed. Dante was happily trotting by his side, occasionally running ahead only to come back again, and Héctor bent down to scratch him behind the ears as the dog returned.

"¡Vamonos!" he said, waving Imelda closer when she paused briefly to make sure Pepita was still following them. The large alebrije had only recently started flying again, and she wondered if she could handle this trip.

A more important question, though, was whether Héctor could handle it.

"I'm coming," she replied, quickening her pace until her stride matched his. He was still limping, but just as he had before he'd re-damaged his leg, he could walk quickly when needed.

"I hope they haven't missed me too much," Héctor went on. "It… has been a few weeks."

"They're your friends," Imelda said. "I'm sure they'll understand."

"Family," he corrected, only to flinch, eyeing her with worry. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean," she replied, not unkindly. "You're right; they're your family as well."

Relaxing, Héctor held up his prosthetic hand, looking it over. "Not sure how I'm gonna bring this up, though." Suddenly he held it behind his back, looking forward. "Maybe they won't notice," he added with a half-smile.

Imelda glanced back at him, noting the way his scarf was pulled around the gouges in his throat, the way his vest was buttoned to hide his broken ribs. To anyone who knew him well, he looked more suspicious in trying to hide his injuries than he did without trying to hide them. Even so… "Or if they do notice, perhaps they'll respect your boundaries."

"They… usually do," he said, nodding. "They probably will."

There was a rough tinge to his voice, not from a particular emotion, but from speaking so much—his voice was still recovering. He said nothing after that, nor did Imelda, allowing him the chance to rest his voice for a while before they arrived.

They continued on in silence, other than Dante's panting and the distant calls of Pepita as she occasionally let them know she was still following. Héctor seemed mostly calm, though he did hold up his prosthetic hand every so often, fidgeting with it before pulling it back behind him.

Imelda, who had been relying on Héctor and Dante to know the way to Shantytown, was about to ask how close they were, when Dante let out a sharp BARK!

Stepping back, the two of them looked around as the alebrije turned to face them, wings outspread as though to block their path. The fact that his tail was wagging and tongue was lolling indicated that there wasn't any sort of threat nearby.

"Dante, what are you—"

A sharp intake of breath at her side made her turn, and she saw that Héctor had frozen up, face blanched, his left hand squeezing his right wrist. Looking back at their surroundings, Imelda realized she recognized this place—they weren't far from where… well, where she'd had to lead the police a couple weeks back. "Lead us the long way around, Dante," she said, placing a hand on Héctor's back.

Dante barked again, snapping Héctor out of his trance, and scurried off to the east.

Imelda could feel Héctor trembling beneath her hand, his breath shaky, and guided him after the alebrije. "Vamonos, Héctor," she said, and his feet clumsily followed. Even after they were a distance away from where Dante had stopped them, Héctor still seemed shaken, staring blankly down at the ground as he walked.

"If you're not feeling good about this," Imelda said, leaning in close to him, "we can turn around, and come back another time."

Her words seemed to finally pull him out of it, and he shook his head. "N-no, no. I've missed them a lot and I want to see them again." Taking a deep breath, he began to calm again, seeming more steady on his feet. "This can't wait. With the nearly-forgotten, you… don't always know how much time you have left with them."

Nodding, Imelda took her hand away. "I understand." Given we've passed where the incident occurred, we must be close, she thought, but didn't say it out loud.

A faint smile returned to his face. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Dante began barking again, dancing around by the rickety wooden steps leading to Shantytown. They could see fires shining down below, and Héctor gave a sigh—a contented one, this time.

A faint roar from above indicated that Pepita was meeting them; the massive alebrije landed next to the group, purring as she lightly nudged her head against Héctor's side. Both he and Imelda reached out to scratch her head as the cat eventually stretched herself out upon the ground; she was too large to join them in Shantytown, and would watch from above.

"Ready?" Imelda asked.

Héctor nodded, his smile growing. Sure enough, he was starting to regain his earlier energy as he limped down the stairs faster than Imelda could walk in her dress, Dante repeatedly running up and down the stairs between the two of them. As they got closer to the town, however, she caught him adjusting his vest, tugging at his scarf, and hiding his prosthetic hand behind his back. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, he was visibly nervous… until they stepped through the gates.

"…Cousin Héctor?"

"Hey! ¡Primo!"

"Héctor! Where have you been?!"

"Ey!" Héctor called, as loud as his roughed voice would allow. "I missed you guys!"

Quickly he was surrounded by several friends, one of which tried to hug him. He held out his good hand (still keeping his prosthetic behind his back), grinning nervously. "Careful—I did a number on my ribs recently."

"That so? What've you been up to?" one man—one Imelda recognized as Aureliano—asked, slapping a hand against Héctor's shoulder. At first she was surprised that they hadn't heard any of the news, only to recall he'd told her once that they deliberately avoided any celebrity gossip concerning him, out of respect.

"Ah, nothing all that exciting."

Imelda kept behind Héctor during all of this, letting him greet his friends—his family—but her presence caught their attention regardless.

"Hola, Tía Imelda!" one woman said, waving for her to come closer. "I take it you found him?"

It took her a moment to realize what the woman was talking about—that night felt like a lifetime ago. "We did indeed. Things have been busy since then, but he wanted to come back to visit again."

Aureliano seemed to contemplate that for a moment before shrugging. "Whatever the case, it's good to have you back!"

Héctor seemed relieved that they'd dropped the subject, but something else was still bugging him. "Everyone's still here, right?"

"Oh, sí, no one's left us in a while, but a lot's happened in the past month!"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Héctor followed his friend to a spot where several Shantytown citizens were setting up chairs around a fire. Imelda kept to Héctor's right side, while Dante was already running around to greet the different souls with a pounce or a lick. While they took their seats, people immediately began talking about the goings-on around town, Héctor listening intently, laughing and chiming in on occasion. Imelda for the most part kept quiet—these were Héctor's folk, not hers, and she admittedly felt out of place here—but replied when spoken to.

Overall the evening seemed to be going well, and Héctor was clearly glad to be back around his other family.

At one point, however, Héctor made a slight mistake; both he and Imelda had lost themselves in conversation, and Imelda took no notice that he'd done anything wrong until she heard several people gasp around him. Belatedly she realized he'd gestured with his right hand, bringing it out into their view.

"Primo!" one soul cried. "What happened to your hand?!"

Immediately Héctor seemed to be fighting the urge to shrink into himself. He looked around the group warily, rubbing his wrist, and then gritted his teeth. "Well…" he began slowly, and Imelda looked on, concerned. "See… wh-what happened was…"

The other people were leaning closer, some looking on with concern, others with horror. Imelda was gripping the edges of her seat, ready to step in if necessary, but right now she would leave this to him.

"S-someone… asked for a hand… and I didn't know they'd meant it literally."

Héctor cracked a grin, and the crowd chuckled around him. He then softened, rubbing his wrist. "Really, I'm… I'm starting to do better, though, don't worry."

Imelda sat up straighter, looking at him in amazement—it was the first time she'd heard him say that since the night he'd lost his hand.

Just as Héctor had said, the people here respected his boundaries, and no one said anything else about his prosthetic. The conversation moved on, but Imelda couldn't help but notice that as Héctor talked, he was keeping his prosthetic in his lap, covering it with his good hand.

Soon though the crowd's attention was drawn to some musicians that had begun to play, and they sang along with the music. With the attention off of him, Héctor was staring down at his lap, rubbing his left hand over his new, mechanical one.

Slowly Imelda reached out toward him, gently pushing his good hand away and taking his other hand in hers. She drew it out of his lap and closer to her, and gave it a squeeze.

His eyes met hers, and he smiled.

They weren't completely there yet, but eventually they would be.

Things would be okay.