Hi! I am a humongous fan of Coco, and after my second time seeing the movie, I came up with this idea. I hope you enjoy!

(Disclaimer: Coco is the property of Disney and Pixar, not me.)

"I won't let Coco forget -"

As the glowing marigold petal touched him, Miguel disappeared in a shower of petals, which fell to the ground next to Hector. He looked up at Imelda, trying to keep his face from showing how terrified he was.

"Imelda -"

"No," she said, panicking. "That is a boy who keeps his promises -"

"He played my guitar as soon as you sent him back the first time," Hector said, smiling weakly. "He told me."

"That's because he cares about music - but he cares about you, too," Imelda said, starting to tear up. "You're not leaving me now, Hector."

"I don't have a choice, querida," he said. "I'm sorry."

Imelda smiled bittersweetly, trying not to cry.

"I love you," she said, her voice breaking.

"You must be crazy then," Hector said.

"I am," she replied. "Un poco loco."

Hector tried to smile, but even that small bit of effort was too much for him. He knew it was coming soon.

"I love you, too," he whispered. Ready for whatever was next - or as ready as anyone can be, he closed his eyes, finally letting himself fade. Imelda's voice was getting farther and farther away, becoming quieter even as her voice raised.

"Hector?" he could barely hear her say. "Hector? HECTOR!"

And then the blackness grew into a bright orange-white, and Hector couldn't hear Imelda anymore. It stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, caught in the balance between the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Final Death - whatever that land entailed.

When the light finally faded, he was in a small bedroom. It wasn't very much - just a small room, with a window and a bed that had been pushed to the side, and a little dresser with a small drawer in it.

To his surprise, Hector recognized the room. It was Coco's old room, the room where he'd sing her to sleep with the songs that Ernesto had stolen. Nothing had really changed - except for the old woman, sitting silently in a wicker wheelchair, as though no one else was in the room.

"Coco?" Hector whispered. "M'ija?"

She couldn't hear him. It was as if fate had given him one last sight of her before they were both gone - a reminder of what he had lost, just because he wasn't quick enough.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom burst open, revealing Miguel, carrying Hector's skull-head guitar. He locked the door behind him, even though his family - Hector's family - was outside, banging on the door, telling Miguel to open it.

"Miguel?" Hector said quietly. "What are you doing?"

Miguel paid him no attention, and Hector realized what had happened. He was witnessing the last memory of him fade from Coco's mind, a bystander, unable to affect anything that was happening in front of him. He had built his life in the Land of the Dead around trying to make it back to Coco, just to see her one last time. Now he had his opportunity - and he knew she wouldn't even remember him. Fate, he decided, rubbing salt in the wound.

"Mamá Coco?" Miguel whispered, walking over to his great-grandmother. "Can you hear me? It's Miguel."

She stared ahead blankly, as though Miguel was just as invisible to her as Hector was.

"I saw your papá," Miguel said, tearing up. "Remember Papá? Please - if you forget him, he'll be gone - forever…"

Hector's heart warmed to see his great-great-grandson trying to save his life, but he wanted to tell Miguel that it wasn't worth it. As Miguel held up the guitar, Hector wanted so badly to tell Miguel that it was better this way, it was okay, he'd be better off forgotten, not making Miguel miserable. But he knew that he couldn't interfere - this was just a vision, a stop on the way to wherever he was going.

"This was his guitar, right?" Miguel said. "He used to play it to you?"

He grabbed a piece of paper from his back pocket - the photo from the ofrenda, the photo of Mamá Imelda and Coco - and Hector, his head ripped away from the rest of the picture. Hector flinched when he saw the picture - the last time he had seen it, it had been in the cenote with Miguel, thinking about being in this room again, able to see Coco again, have her remember him…

"Mamá Coco, please," Miguel begged, tears pouring down his face. "Please don't forget him."

With a jingle of keys, the door opened, and Miguel's family ran in. An old woman, who looked to be Miguel's grandmother - my granddaughter? Hector thought - pushed Miguel to the side as she tended to Coco.

The realization dawned on Miguel, like a dark shadow across his face - he hadn't been able to fulfill his promise. He finally broke, running into his Papá's arms.

"M'ijo!" Hector said, forgetting about his present state and running to Miguel. Just before he could wrap his great-great-grandson in a warm embrace, tell him that everything would be okay, that he wouldn't have to worry anymore, that he needn't waste his life worrying about him - his arm passed through Miguel's back.

"M'ijo…" Hector muttered. He finally let himself cry, falling to the ground next to his guitar - not from weakness this time, but from grief.

Miguel broke the hug with his father, looking down at the guitar on the floor. He leaned down and picked it up, his face red, his eyes puffy from crying.

"Mamá Coco?" he said. "Your papá - he wanted you to have this."

He started to pick out a familiar melody, one that Hector recognized - one that he had written.

"Remember me," he sang, his voice wavering. "Though I have to say goodbye, remember me. Don't let it make you cry."

Hector looked up at Miguel singing - and he couldn't help but notice that Coco was tapping her fingers to the beat.

"For even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart," he sang along. "I sing a secret song for you each night we are apart. Remember me - though I have to travel far, remember me…"

Hector's voice trailed off as soon as Coco opened her mouth.

"...each time you hear a sad guitar," she and Miguel sang. "Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be - until you're in my arms again, remember me…"

Hector looked at Miguel's grandmother. She was crying.

"Elena?" Coco said, also looking at her. "What's wrong, m'ija?"

"Nothing," Elena said. "Nothing at all."

Coco turned to Miguel, a spark in her eye.

"My papá used to sing me that song," she said.

Miguel put down the guitar and hugged Coco. "He loved you," he said tearfully. "Your papá loved you so much."

Coco reached into the drawer next to her wheelchair and pulled out a faded red notebook. "I kept everything of his - including this…"

She pulled out a small scrap of paper that had been ripped from another piece - like it had been ripped from a book, or a pack of cards.

Or a photograph…

Hector gasped and stood up, running around Miguel. He hovered his hand on Miguel's shoulder. Miguel let out a soft gasp, his hand subconsciously reaching to Hector's. He looked up - Hector smiled, hoping that Miguel would sense him somehow -

Miguel smiled back, turning back to Coco. He took the scrap from her and put it together with the photo from the ofrenda. As soon as Hector's face touched the rest of the picture, the world around Hector disappeared in the same orange-white light from before.

It, once again, felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, the light faded into black, and Hector could faintly hear the sound of someone sobbing. He cracked his eyes open to see that it was Imelda.

Wait...Imelda…

"Querida," he whispered, opening his eyes. He saw Imelda gasp and look at his face.

"Hector?" she cried.

He smiled - Miguel had done it.

"Imelda," he said. "What happened?"

She put her hand over her mouth. "You came back," she said, helping Hector sit up - he was still weak, although he wasn't sure if it was from almost having been forgotten or from the pure elation that he was feeling.

"No, but what happened?" he asked. "What did it look like?"

"Well," Imelda said, "your eyes closed, and this orange light surrounded you, and it looked like you were dissolving into it - but that doesn't matter, you came back, you're here -"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Hector said.

Imelda smiled. "I told you that boy keeps his promises," she said. As quickly as she could, as if unsure she'd ever get the opportunity again, she kissed him. Surprised - but not upset - Hector wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, never wanting to let go.

They finally broke the hug, and Hector looked down at himself. His bones, instead of being their usual greyish-brown, were now pure white.

"Where's Ernesto?" he asked.

"He won't be coming out from that bell for a long time," Imelda said.

Finally, Hector found the strength to stand up, helping Imelda up with him.

"Thank you, querida," he said. She smiled, taking his hand. Together, they walked hand in hand onto the Sunrise Spectacular Stage - the show must go on, Hector thought, even if the headliner was revealed to be a murderer.

What he wasn't prepared for was the humongous applause he'd get as he stepped on stage. He couldn't help but smile as he grabbed a guitar.

He shouted a grito to the world around him, strumming the intro to "Un Poco Loco." Finally, he had found a balance of his two loves in life - singing and being with his family. No feeling in the world could feel better than that.

They ran off the stage together, Hector's heart pounding.

"I - forgot - what that - felt like," Imelda said, out of breath.

Hector nodded. "Other than the talent show with Miguel, I haven't felt like that since - well, since Santa Cecilia."

"What about that tour?" Imelda said, wagging her finger at him playfully.

"Well, I enjoyed it, but Ernesto didn't," Hector said. "If there wasn't a big enough crowd, his heart wasn't in it. And I got sick of it - so when we were in Mexico City, I decided to leave. He sent me off with a toast, and…" He cringed. "Miguel told you the rest."

"And you just realized that today?" Imelda asked.

"Sí," he shrugged. "And if I hadn't told Miguel that he stole my songs…"

"Why didn't you tell Miguel in the first place?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said. "If Miguel knew, he wouldn't have gotten Ernesto's blessing, and I still thought he was Miguel's only family."

"Wait…" Imelda said. "He didn't tell you about us?"

Hector shook his head. "He didn't even mention you existed. So when I learned he'd lied to me, right after the talent show…"

"You were devastated," Imelda finished.

He nodded. "And he was angry at me, and I didn't have a chance to tell him before he ran away - without my photo. I had to race over and get a Frida Kahlo costume so that I could get into Ernesto's party, and that's when I broke it to him - and when he broke it to me that Ernesto had - had -"

Imelda kissed him, which was the perfect way to change the subject.

"That's all in the past now," Hector said once the kiss broke. "We're back together - and that's all that matters."

Imelda smiled. "I'm not losing you again, querido. You ready?"

"For what?" Hector asked.

Imelda stifled a giggle. "Everything."

Hector smiled back and took his wife's hand.

"Anything for you, querida," he said. "Come on!"

He took off running, Imelda trying to make sure her arm stayed intact. His heart was bursting with pride - for Miguel, for Imelda, for the entire family.

And for Coco. Of course for Coco.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed the story. This one was a lot of fun to write - I actually wrote it on paper first (I usually just write on Google Docs) before transfering it to a Google Doc and revising it. It all came out in one gigantic rush of words, and I'm so glad it did.

Feel free to review, but please no negative reviews or cursing. (And please, NOTHING POLITICAL!) Thanks!