A/N: This was a just a little one-shot plot bunny that came to me this morning. Disclaimer: I do not own Corpse Bride, nor do I own the song 'Mr. Bojangles' by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.

Maybe It Was You

Emily's last glimpse of the Land of the Living had been of Victor and Victoria holding each other close. After that, all she knew for a while was bright, white moonlight.

It had been a deliciously liberating feeling, passing on, and she still felt free and lighter than air. But Emily was definitely coming back to herself. She took a breath and opened her eyes. All around her was light, though she couldn't tell where it came from, and it was clear light that didn't blind her like she remembered the sun could. She took an experimental step. She was treading on what appeared to be clouds, and yet she could hardly feel them about her feet.

Emily gave a little laugh, and looked down again at her legs. They were both there, and whole, and her arm that had been nothing but bone was whole again as well. She brought her fingers up to touch her right eye. As she suspected, there was no maggot behind it anymore. She supposed that this was a definite improvement, but she couldn't truthfully say that she wouldn't miss the talkative creature. Emily grasped the edge of her dress - the material was soft and new again - and whirled in place. Her white wedding dress swirled around her, and her hair, dark and full once more, flowed around her shoulders. Emily was no longer a corpse, but it appeared that she was still a bride.

"But where am I?" she wondered. There was not another soul in sight. Nor was there much of anything else but light and clouds. "Perhaps I haven't quite moved on after all," she thought. "But why?"

Then it came to her, and her feeling of freedom was dimmed. "Of course. My vow."

It appeared that Emily was still waiting for her true love. "And whoever he is, he might still be alive," Emily sighed. It didn't seem quite fair that she should be lonely even in the afterlife, if that was indeed where she was. But then her musings were interrupted, as Emily was sure that somewhere in the distance she could hear the snatches of a song.

The sound echoed strangely at first, but became louder and sharper the harder she listened.

Yes, she was sure of it now. Someone was whistling.

"I know this song," she said.

I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was

Down and out

He looked to me to be the eyes of age

As he spoke right out

He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed

Clicked his heels and stepped.

Emily was sure she recognized the melody, but she couldn't quite remember the name of the tune. She could see a figure coming towards her now, strolling along with his hands in his pockets and whistling. He came right up to her, stopped his song and grinned.

"Hey, there," he said, and his voice was hollow and smooth. His dark suit of clothes was shabby and worn, but it hung well on his lanky frame. He had a black bowler hat set at a rakish angle on his dark blonde hair and lively black eyes, which, as Emily looked into them, made her feel as though there was something she should remember.

"Hello," she said back, "I feel like I know you." It occurred to Emily that this might be a silly thing to have said, but the man only tapped his thumbs against his pockets to some rhythm in his head and grinned more widely.

"Do you, now?" he teased. He wasn't much taller than Emily, so she was able to look almost directly into his eyes.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked, suddenly unable to look anywhere but at the stranger.

"Why, don't you know? We're movin' on."

"Oh," said Emily, dejectedly. "You must be mistaken; you see, I can't move on till I meet my true love. I took a vow, and all that."

The young man still smiled. "I know that," he said. "What exactly do you think I'm here for?"

Emily blinked at him in surprise. She gazed into his face very hard, trying to figure him out. He let her do it, and began to hum the next verse of the song he'd been whistling.

"I know that voice!" Emily thought. Then very suddenly, she remembered the name of the song.

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles, dance.

Emily gazed harder still. Those cheekbones, that crooked grin…

"Bonejangles!" Emily exclaimed in utter amazement, "It's you!"

"The one and only," he swept into a mock bow and tipped his hat. "How's it hangin' Emily?"

"But - " Emily couldn't get over the shock of seeing Bonejangles as he must have looked when he was alive. All the time she'd known him, he had been nothing but bones. "But…"

"Not exactly who you were expecting, am I?"

That much was the truth, at least. Emily had always liked Bonejangles, of course, but – but what? She had never really considered…

And yet…

Here he was. Here he was, with his bowler hat, grinning his grin at her. Bonejangles, the talented, the clever, the charismatic…the one and only, here in the flesh, and he was holding out his hand.

"But – you love the Land of the Dead," Emily said, "You loved being there, you loved all the parties, and your skeleton band."

"Yeah," said Bonejangles, shrugging, "I did. But when I saw you leaving outside the church I just figured I'd follow. That alright?"

Emily found herself smiling as she slipped her hand in his. "Yes," she said, as she met his black eyes, and she knew that it was. She felt a new warmth in herself that seemed to have nothing to do with what she had just left behind, and everything to do with the look on Bonejangles' face.

His smile grew mischievous, and suddenly, he spun her around in a dance, twirled her, and dipped her, just like he used to do in the Land of the Dead. Emily laughed. All around her, the clouds were growing dimmer, and shapes were coming into focus. The light was getting clearer. Now, it seemed, they were finally passing on.

"Come on babe," said Bonejangles, "no one can put on a show like us. Let's you and me paint the afterlife red."

Emily took that as her proposal, and, smiling up at him, she nodded her answer.

Fini