This fic was inspired by a piece of fanart by mondragon-joaquin on Tumblr, which stabbed me in the feels repeatedly when I first saw it. I can't link it here, but I recommend you look for it. Now, allow me to share my pain with you.

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

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound of ash, snow and rocks underfoot rang in Maria's ears with each step she took - at least, they would if she still had ears for them to ring in.

"Silencio, Chuy," she whispered to the skeletal pig who trotted at her side, digging through the piles of dirt and eliciting the occasional moan from a forgotten soul who wasn't quite yet gone. "You know we're not supposed to be here."

Then again, neither was he.

One bony hand unconsciously moved to touch her midsection, right where Chakal had run her through. Memories of the pain still surfaced once in a while, stopping her in her tracks and bringing tears to her eyes.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Maria," her friends and family had kept saying, gesturing to the festivities around them. She still wasn't sure how a few of them had managed to end up in the Land of the Remembered - friends abroad, perhaps.

"Yes, it does!" she had answered. The fight had been all for nothing, or so they seemingly wanted her to think. Especially since the one person she had wanted to see was nowhere to be found.

"Manolo lost our wager fair and square," Xibalba told her when she confronted him and La Muerte in the castle. "He's in my other realm now, if he hasn't let himself go already. If you ask me, you could have done better anyway."

She had immediately gathered her friends and family with the intention of organizing a search party, but the answer from most of them made her nonexistent blood boil even more: "It's too dangerous out there, Maria. He's not worth it." Even La Muerte had mumbled something about how it would not be wise.

They had rejected Manolo in life, and now they were content to see his soul crumble away to nothing. If this is supposed to be Heaven, Maria thought, I think I'd rather take Hell.

So while Joaquin distracted her father, she commandeered a horse and slipped out of the city with only Chuy to help her. By the time anyone realized she was gone, she was miles away. She had ridden like a spreading wildfire to the Cave of Souls, scaled the imposing cliff and barely survived the guardian's judgement. By the time she found the Candle Maker, she was more weary than angry. She quietly asked to be shown the way to the Land of the Forgotten, and the god, seeing her sorrow, had reluctantly agreed.

"I'm breakin' a whole lot of rules by doing this, you know," he told her. "I don't know if I could get you back."

"I don't know if you'll need to," she answered. If Manolo was already dust as she feared, then she would drift after him. It was as simple as that.

The realm was even more dismal than she had imagined. She knew Xibalba had hated it, but not enough to let it rot as soon as he could leave. Stalactites were crumbling from the ceiling, piles of dust and other particles blocked the paths, the great castle of stone and metal was beginning to rust and sink into the lake of lava. The Forgotten didn't seem to notice any of it. They all stood in place, sighing and moaning and sometimes being carried away on the wind.

"Manolo?" she called out, her voice echoing through the cavern as she walked amongst the sea of forlorn faces. "It's me! It's Maria!"

No answer.

Maybe Xibalba was right. Maybe he really is gone…

"Bleh!" Chuy was pulling at the hem of her skirt, nodding towards a lone stalagmite in the distance. A figure sat curled up against it, wearing a tattered and dusty traje de luces. His face could not be seen, but his shoulders heaved with quiet sobs as he clutched an old guitar to his chest.

Maria walked forward, almost in a trance. "M-Manolo…?"

He looked up, green eyelights meeting yellow ones. Then he screamed, jumping up and backing away as his trembling hands flew up to cover his eyes. "No! Not this! Anything but this…"

"Manolo, it's just me - "

"Y-You're not Maria," he said. "You're not real. You're just another vision he sent after me. I already know I failed! I know I should be gone! L-Leave me alone!"

He turned to run, only for Maria to grab his wrists and hold him in place. "Don't you dare," she said, tightening her grip when he tried to pull away. "Look at me, Manolo. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm real, and I didn't come all this way just to lose you again."

His struggle slowed and stopped, but he still kept his eyes cast towards the ground.

"If you don't believe me," she continued, "let me prove it. Ask me something only I could answer."

He was silent for a moment, still looking down. "…The words on the guitar you gave me. What do they say?"

"'Always play from the heart'," she whispered.

Manolo stiffened, and his eyes slowly rose up to meet hers. They were glistening with fresh tears, filled with disbelief and horror and the faintest glimmer of hope. "Maria?"

She smiled and nodded as she ran a hand along his face. "Si, mi amor."

"You're…you were…"

"It wasn't your fault, Manolo. You couldn't have stopped it."

"…I-I never should have brought us to that tree…"

"I forgive you," she said. "Everything you think you did, I forgive you."

She let her hands rest on his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. They rested their foreheads together, then he leaned down and gently, clumsily pressed his mouth to hers. She moved against it, trying to kiss him as best as she could. Bright green tears were streaming down his face now, and she could feel her own eyes starting to sting.

It wasn't what they had dreamed of, but it was enough.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked when they pulled apart.

"To save you. Get you out of here."

"There's no one alive to remember me. I can't leave."

"Then neither will I."

He shook his head. "You don't belong down here, Maria. You should be up there."

"I don't want to be up there," she said as she took his hands in hers. "Not without you."

He didn't answer, but he squeezed her hands and offered her a weary smile.

"We'll find a way to make this better, Manolo," she whispered. "I promise."

There was no thought of the life they might have had. That was gone forever, stolen in one fell swoop by the whims of the capricious beings who had tried to control their fates. But there was still a future, gray and grim as it seemed. And as long as it existed, it could be theirs.

They talked awhile, drifting from one unpleasant subject to another, scratching behind Chuy's ears as he sat between them. "Do you still play?" Maria eventually asked.

"Not much," Manolo answered, looking ashamed. "Would…would you like me to?"

"Only if you want to."

It took a few clumsy minutes for his fingers to find the chords once again. Soon he was strumming, carving out a soft melody. His voice began as a whisper but grew until it carried across the cavern. He sang of lives lost and happy times long gone, and how they deserved to be remembered forever.

One by one, the Forgotten blinked and stirred, coming out of their stupor as though waking from a dream. They turned at the sound of the music, followed it until they were forming a crowd around the two brave spirits.

Perhaps it was not to last. Perhaps Xibalba would realize what was happening and fly down to crush them all into nothing. Perhaps they were doomed once again.

Or perhaps not.