Hector walked numbly through the backstage corridors, tiredly sidestepping the stagehands and dancers that were now rushing towards the stage and the exit. Although he didn't know what exactly, he could feel a mix of emotions welling inside his chest. Regret, despair, satisfaction? He couldn't tell. All that mattered right now was that Ernesto was dead, and that he had to get back to his family.

Oh, dios, his family.

His pace began to gain urgency, and he found his nervous jog turning into his usual loping run as he barreled through the door to the dressing room.

No one.

Panic began to settle in.

"COCO! IMELDA!"

No answer.

He threw himself through the door and began to search wildly through each room and closet, growing more and more desperate with every step.

It wasn't until he threw himself threw the rooftop door that he slowed.

Huddled in a corner and concealed from sight by an air conditioning unit was Imelda and Coco, a few of Imelda's hairs breaking free of her bun and blowing gently in the autumn breeze. Both she and Coco had their eyes closed, and Imelda was clinging onto Coco-who was curled into a ball-with all she had, and Hector could see a few tears glistening in the corners of each of their eyes. Seeing them huddled there, terrified, caused the full weight of all that had just happened to weigh on Hector.

He to a staggering step forward, burying his face in his hands and barely managing to restrain a sob.

He almost lost them. He almost lost Coco and Imelda and it was all his fault. It was all his fault for leaving and dying and thinking it would be a good idea to bring them here, right into the same danger he had been in.

Ay, dios, lo siento. Imelda, Coco, lo siento. I never should have come here, I never should have stayed.

Why couldn't he have just passed on? He had the chance. The light had come for him, called for him, but he had turned away. Selfishly. He had wanted to stay with them, to hold onto any part of his life that he could. And that had caused them all more pain than if he had just stayed away.

His chest heaved, but he moved forward.

He still had a job to do.

Wiping his eyes, he made it over to the unit, to where Coco and Imelda still remained. Neither had moved, and Hector wished that he could just wrap his arms around them both and let the world pass them by. Seeing them there-alive and seemingly unharmed-gave him a newfound strength.

There was no use dwelling on what could have happened. All that mattered is what was happening, and what did. He was still dead, and they were alive, and there was no changing that.

He looked at them both, drinking them in, before speaking up.

"Are you two alright?"

Coco raised her head and sniffed, a stray tear streaming down her face. He smiled at her, and she returned it. He could see a faint mark where the knife had been, but it seemed faint. It would disappear. A wave of relief washed over Hector. The mark would disappear, much like the memory of this night, with time.

He was so preoccupied with Coco that he did not notice Imelda raise her head, and look around. He didn't avert his eyes until he heard her speak, a small, meek, wary sound that could have been blow away by the breeze.

"H-Hector? Is that you?"

Both Coco and Hector looked at her as her eyes searched the area where Hector was now crouched, neither daring to believe it. Hector narrowed his eyes, a spark of hope igniting within him.

"Imelda?"

Imelda gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked around once more. She smiled, hardly daring to believe it herself.

"I...I can hear you!"

Hector's breath caught in his chest, but before he could say anything, before he could jump for joy or begin crying out of happiness, he felt a familiar warmth spread through him, and he stood involuntarily. He shook out his shoulders and looked up at the source of the warmth.

The light from earlier. From the night he was killed.

the light was not blinding, nor was it burning. Just like before, it called to him, reassured him, beckoning him to step into it and find peace at last.

And this time, he knew he could finally rest.

He turned away from the light, back towards his family. Instead of the blank stares he was expecting, he was greeted with the wide and awestruck eyes of both Coco AND Imelda.

But how...

Looking down at his arms, he could see that he was surrounded in a soft, faint orange glow, which must be illuminating him and allowing him to be seen, and Hector knew why.

It was time to say goodbye.

Coco was staring up at him in wonder, and he bent to her level, wiping her tears as tenderly as he could as she clutched his hand. He felt his own tears fall. He realized how much he was going to miss. Her birthdays, her quinceanera, her wedding day. He wouldn't get to see his little girl grow up, like he had hoped he would from the day he saw her for the first time. He had promised her then that he would always be there, to watch over and protect her.

He could only hope that he had done a good job.

Through a shaky voice and trembling hands, he cupped her cheek in his hands.

"I have to go now, mi'ija. I can't stay anymore."

Coco closed her eyes, but the tears kept coming. Hector's flowed more freely now.

He knew he would have to say goodbye someday.

He continued to wipe her tears away, and she clung to his hand.

She didn't want him to go. She needed him.

But she knew it was time.

Her eyes still closed, she tried to be strong, to be brave for her Papa. His voice started to float on the wind, the familiar melody carrying over the sound of her tears and their sadness.

"Remember me..."

Coco looked up at him, watching the tears stream down his face as he continued to sing.

Almost every night since she was born, he had sang this song to her, but never, never had it ever or will it ever mean more than now.

This was his goodbye to her, his final promise. She closed her eyes and listened, etching his face and his voice into her mind.

"Don't let it make you cry."

He continued, trying to savor the feeling of her cheek on his hand and the expression of love on her face.

"Know that I am here with you the one way I can be..."

Coco looked up at him and ran towards him, burying her face into his now semi-solid chest. Both sang together, the emotion in both of their voices doing nothing to stop the outpouring of love they held for each other. Their beings went into their words, and both knew the truth behind their words.

"Until you're in my arms again..."

Coco clutched her father's jacket and Hector wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"Remember me..."

The last notes lingered in the air as Papa and hija embraced for the last time.

Hector kissed her, a lingering kiss that he poured all he had into.

He could only hope she understood how much he loved her.

"Don't forget me, okay mi'ija?"

Coco looked up at her father and nodded, burying her face in his chest once more. He stroked her hair.

"I promise I'll always be with you. I won't leave you again. Not really."

He could feel Coco nod from under is chin, still crying.

He pulled her tighter and kissed her again.

"Never forget that I love you, okay mi'ija? I love you so much. So much."

Coco looked back up at her father and nodded, flinging her arms around his neck.

"I love you too, Papa. So much. I'm going to miss you."

Hector looked down at her and kissed her once more.

"Like a hole in my heart, mi'ija. Never forget."

He gave her one last squeeze, but before she let him say his last goodbyes to Imelda, she squeezed his hand.

"Goodbye, Papa."

Hector had to actively hold back another wave of tears.

"Goodbye, Coco."

A last kiss, then he turned to Imelda, who had watched the whole scene with wide, awestruck, and swimming eyes.

She was seeing her husband as if for the first time.

It wasn't until he was crouching in front of her and gazing at her with the most tender and gentle eyes she had ever seen that she truly realized how much she had missed him.

How much she would miss him.

She had thought about what she would ever say to him if she ever got the chance, she thought that she would never let him back into her life, even if it was somehow possible.

But not even her steely resolve could keep the tears from streaming, and nothing could keep the pit from widening in her stomach.

This was it.

She couldn't find it in herself to be even the slightest bit angry.

Hector leaned forward, moving slowly, and pressed his lips tenderly onto hers. It was all he had wanted to do, all he wanted to say after his death-and maybe before-embodied into one gesture, but not even death could keep his heart from jumping when she leaned in and kissed him back.

It was her way of excepting the apologies and promises that she could sense in the kiss. She excepted them, and she made her own promises in return.

Neither of them could tell how long the kiss lasted, but Hector pulled away first, standing and offering a hand to his wife. Imelda took it and stood with him, leaning into his touch as he wiped her tears. He put his arms around her, and she copied his motions, leaning into him. She wanted to savor this feeling, this emotion, and she wanted to stay this way forever.

Funny. For someone who had told the world that she was glad he had left, she seemed to be awfully reluctant to let him go.

She felt herself moving, and her legs moved of their own accord. Hector's faintly glowing head was buried into her shoulder, and she could tell that he was trying to hold back his tears. They moved the way they had when he had found her in the workshop, when he had told her that their love would never fade. Their movements were gentler now, and Imelda could feel that Hector was afraid of making another promise he couldn't keep. She lifted his head and put her hand on his check, looking into his endless brown eyes for what she knew would be the last time. She could see the question in his eyes.

'Do you still love me?'

Wordlessly, Imelda pulled herself closer to him and kissed him deeply.

"Incluso si me cuesta la vida. Even if it costs me my life, I will never stop loving you."

Hector let put a small sob and stroked her cheek. She gazed up at him, smiling. The light behind Hector intensified, and he looked back at it, then at Imelda and Coco.

It was time.

He kissed Imelda once more, squeezing her hand as he took a step backwards and into the light.

"I can't stay anymore."

Coco moved towards her Mama and took her hand, both staring at Hector as he looked behind him. He seemed to be making a decision. He turned and addressed Imelda.

"In my desk, in the top drawer, lift up the sheet music and you'll find a secret compartment. The key is tapped to the back of the Llorona sheet music. They were supposed to be for your birthdays, but I guess now is a good time. You'll understand what I mean."

Imelda nodded and squeezed Coco's hand, wiping her tears on her sleeve as she watched Hector take a few more steps forward. The light seemed to envelop him, but he took one last look behind him. Speaking to the both of them, he said,

"It's amazing, you know. The love inside," he chuckled at the cheesiness of the statement, although it was true, "you take it with you."

Imelda and Coco both watched as he began to disappear, finailly at peace.

His last words to them, his last statement of,

"Goodbye, mis amores."

settled into the air around them as they watched him fade into the light. The air around them slowly began to darken as the light faded, leaving Coco and Imelda to clutch each other and cry.

EPILOUGE

The sounds of children at play rang throughout the loft, the chuckles of the adults mixing to create a wave of happiness to wash through the woman who was currently sat in the wheelchair by the window overlooking the street and the adjacent park. She took a glance outside and basked in the feeling of the warm summer sun and smiled at the passerby below.

96 years had passed since that night, and Socorro Rivera didn't get around that well anymore. Her knees had seized up and parts of her memory had begun to slip, but she could still remember that night as plain as day. She had never told the full story, but the tale of her father and all the wonderful things he had done was still one of her favorites to tell.

And judging by the eager look of the little twelve-year old bot on the floor, it was somebody's favorite to hear.

She took a deep breath in a put a hand to her neck, pulling on the long chain that was clasped there to reveal a swinging golden pendent, which she stroked thoughtfully as she spoke.

"My Papa was a musician..."

The story began the same way as it always did, with her soft but steady voice faithfully telling the story of her wonderful father, whom he knew had loved her more than anything.

He had told her so.

As she talked, she opened the locket around her neck and stared fondly at the picture inside. On one side was a snapshot of her father that her mother had taken on their first date, where his gold tooth was in full display in his toothy, goofy smile. on the other side, a miniature of the picture her father had been so fond of-the one with the tree of them on their trip to Mexico oh so many years ago-which was now hanging proudly on the wall, as to avoid any child-related incidents.

The lockets had been their last gift from Hector, the very things which he instructed Imelda to retrieve from his desk. A matching pair, with simply the family portrait on one side.

It had been a unanimous decision to place his portrait on the other side.

Imelda had been buried in hers, and as Coco had taken rule as the new Rivera family matriarch, she couldn't help but imagine that her parents were now reunited, happily together and watching their family grow.

She knew she would be joining them soon, but for now, she was content to watch her family run around the family loft and live their lives, the lives in which she had ensured that they had always felt loved.

She began to wrap up her story, smiling back down at he boy in front of her as he listened intently, while also simultaneously eating a tangerine.

As she looked at him, all she could see was her father, and he knew that the boy in front of her would be destined for great things.

"And that's the story of my Papa."

The boy smiled and offered Coco a tangerine slice, which she took. He then took the familiar (and rightfully reclaimed) white skull guitar that had been leaning against his leg and began to pluck out a tune, one he had learned from his great-great grandfather's (also reclaimed) song book. Coco smiled as she listened to Miguel pluck out the tune, remembering fondly the way her father would test out each possibility when writing something new.

And if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could just see the figures of her Mama and Papa, hand in hand, happily watching over their daughter with pride.

Somewhere beyond time and space.