¡Bienvenidos a todos! Welcome to my first of (hopefully) many forays into the 'COCO' universe! I am completely obsessed with this movie, and I'm not even exaggerating when I say that I've seen it over fifty times already. Netflix is truly a wonderful thing. Lol
So, this story is basically my head-canon 'prequel' to the movie, what happened between Héctor's flashbacks and Miguel's adventure in the Land of the Dead, though I'm mostly going to be focusing on the dead members of the Rivera family. What can I say, I'm a sucker for tragedy and the supernatural. But don't worry, we'll get to see some of the living too. Eventually.
I've had this story and many others bouncing around in my head for a while now, ever since I first beheld the masterpiece that is a great big hug to the rich Méxican culture and history. I sincerely hope I do it justice. Cross your phalanges! And with that, let's dive right in! Me first!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'COCO', any of it. I don't even have a physical copy of the movie yet! What is wrong with you, self?! Why haven't you bought it yet?! Anyway, all ownership and copyright claims go to Disney/Pixar, I'm just a crazy fangirl writing away with your amazing characters, and I'm not planning on making a single peso off of this story. It's for entertainment purposes only.
"Spoken"
Thought and Emphasized words
Spanish words (Translations will be at the bottom)
[Underlined and bracketed is Author's Notes]
Hyphens -¡Hola!- represent time-skips within the same scene
Line breaks like this:
represent scene changes and the beginning/end of a chapter
Enjoy, and I'll see you at the AN at the end!
Life after Death, a 'COCO' fanfic by Tsunami Storm
Chapter 1: Héctor
Pain.
That's the last thing I remember.
I was just walking to the train station in México City, my best friend- no, my hermano in all but blood- Ernesto de la Cruz walking by my side, when I felt the most horrible pain in my stomach. It was so intense that I doubled over immediately, too overcome to even think, much less do anything else. What in the world happened? Did I eat something that had gone bad? Perhaps Ernesto was right. Maybe it was that chorizo. I thought they tasted a little funny.
I felt myself falling, but I couldn't keep myself upright as my vision failed and faded to black. Vaguely, some small part of my brain registered that my right hand wasn't holding my guitar case anymore. Ernesto must've been trying to help by carrying it for me. Such a considerate friend.
-At least, that's what I thought.
When I woke up after what seemed only a few minutes, I found myself alone on the dimly-lit street, sitting under a carriage lamp-post lit with a candle instead of the newer and more efficient lightbulb.
The next thing that registered in my mind was that both my suitcase and my guitar were gone. I looked frantically up and down the street for them, but they appeared to have vanished into thin air with my best friend. Where was Ernesto? What- what was going on?
Suddenly a gust blew past me, and I felt the strangest sensation of wind passing- not around- but right through my ribs! That wasn't supposed to happen! I looked down at myself and shattered at least three octaves with my scream of horror.
My hands were bones. My feet were bones slipped into my zapatos. I could see every single one of my ribs under my collared shirt and chaqueta of my charro. I mean, I'd always been thin, but I'd never been this bad! When I put my hands up to my face in an unconscious 'systems check', my terror grew as I realized that I couldn't feel my ears or my nose anymore, though I could somehow still smell and hear the sounds of the city at night. My phalanges scraped roughly against my bare skull as they slid down my narrow cheekbones, my brain racing a hundred miles an hour as I tried unsuccessfully to process all this. What happened to me? It's almost like I'm-
Oh no.
I'm not-
I can't be-
Woof! came a friendly sounding bark as the last living being I was expecting came bounding up to me and proceeded to lick me all over my face. Or at least, what was left of it. It was basically just a skull now, with eyes, teeth and hair. Unable to help myself, I laughed as I attempted to push the friendly beast off me so I could get a good look at him, the animal barking and panting happily all the while.
To my slight surprise, I realized my newest friend was a half-grown Xoloitzcuintli, or Xolo dog for short. A hairless breed, these canines were believed by the ancient peoples of Central America to possess supernatural powers, and could guide the souls of the dead to the next leg of their journey. I'd seen a few street dogs in Santa Cecilia of this particular breed, but I'd never believed the legends about them. Guess I should now, though, now that I'm literally proving the legends true at this very moment.
"Hola, perro. You can see me? What's your name, huh?" I asked the mutt, knowing that I wouldn't get an answer. He just looked like a plain old dog. Or a sausage someone dropped in a barbershop. I snorted softly to myself at the amusing mental image. That sounded like something my twin cuñados would say.
Oh God. Óscar! Felipe! Imelda! ¡Ay, Dios mio! Coco! My little Socorro! I can't ever see them again! I'm- I'm trapped! I can never go home! No! This- this can't be happening! This must be a nightmare! Por favor, Dios, Santa Maria, please let this be a terrible dream and let me wake up!
"You're new around here, aren't you, amigo?" came a gruff voice from a few yards away from me, and I looked up with terrified and horror-filled eyes to the face of a skeleton frowning back at me with what seemed like concern.
I couldn't help it. I screamed again. Mercifully, my exclamation stayed within my normal vocal range this time, so I didn't embarrass myself in front of this stranger- skeleton. I shuddered. This must be more of the nightmare I was lost in.
"Guess that answers that question. I hate to be the one to tell you this, amigo, but this isn't a dream. You're dead. Might as well accept it, since there's nothing that can change it. Sorry you had to kick it so young, though. It's never easy seein' young'uns like you on this side of the ole Mortal Veil." The short skeleton sighed heavily, offering a bony hand for me to shake. Which I did, after a minute. It was good to see that I still remembered my manners despite everything that was hitting me all at once today.
"Name's Chicharron, but call me 'Chich'. Everybody else does." The skeleton known as Chich growled, though not unkindly.
"H- Héctor. Héctor Rivera." I quavered nervously after I'd withdrawn my hand.
"Oh, the músico in the Cantina a few days ago? Those were some great numbers you and your amigo played. You have a great talent, muchacho." Chicharron raised an eye-ridge when I gasped in surprise. I hadn't expected to be recognized. Especially by someone who was already d- d- I couldn't even form the word in my mind.
"G- gracias, Señor Chich. I- I'm glad you enjoyed them." I stammered, feeling just a little bit bashful at the praise. A small part of my mind wondered if skeletons could still blush without cheeks or blood vessels- or blood, for that matter. And apparently, skeletons still had eyes as well. Does that mean that they can still cry? Who knows?
"Just 'Chich'. No need to be so formal." The older man- skeleton- huffed gruffly, giving the impression that he wasn't one to beat around the bush. Glancing over at the Xolo, who- at the moment- was chewing on his own hind leg, Chicharron again raised an eye-ridge and nodded to the mutt. "That your alebrije? Don't look too bright, does he?"
I just cocked my head, confused. "Alebrije? What are you talking about? You mean those strange animal mixes that that one hombre saw in a fever dream? I thought those were just legends."
Chich actually chuckled a little. "Lotta people say that. But they're as real as you or me. Alebrijes are spirit creatures. They guide souls on their journey. In this world, they can take on normal forms, usually the animal that they most resemble. For example, a winged jaguar with eagle's hind feet, ram's horns and a lizard tail would probably just look like a normal gato here. Though, Xolos tend to stay about the same, appearance-wise, given their 'natural' connection to the Spirit World." He explained, and I felt myself nodding slowly. All of this was very new to me, but it made sense in a weird way.
"So-" I began, not knowing what to do. "-what happens now? I- I can't go home, can I? So where do I go from here?"
Chicharron shook his head. "No. You can't go home. You have to get to the nearest cempasúchil bridge and make your way to the Land of the Dead. At least, that's what I've heard. Never been myself." He sighed, scratching his skull where a few pieces of duct tape were crossed over it. Apparently he'd died of blunt force trauma to the head. A small part of me was glad that my own- death- was not quite as violent as my new amigo's had been. Ay, that was gonna take some getting used to. Thinking about my death, I mean. And in the past tense!
"You know what? I think I may just come with you after all. I've hung around here long enough, and there's really nothing for me anymore. Besides, you look like you could use an amigo." Chich growled gruffly, and I nodded gratefully. At least I would know one person in this 'Land of the Dead' that he'd mentioned.
"Gracias, Chich. Really, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me, a complete stranger." I breathed, weak with relief that now I knew something of what was going on. Carefully so as not to dislocate anything, I made to get up off the sidewalk where I'd been sitting, but jerked back almost immediately with a cry of pain.
"Héctor? What happened?" Chich gasped, bending over me again as I gripped my lower right arm. Pain was radiating from my lower arm in waves, and it was all I could do to keep the whimpers back. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of my new amigo.
"Oi. That looks bad. Your ulna is fractured all the way through. What happened, amigo? Were you hit by a car or something?" He gasped, gently drawing my arm away from my ribcage so that he could see it better in the light from the streetlamp.
"No. I think it was some bad chorizo. Or maybe the tequila. The last thing I remember was a terrible pain in my stomach. I felt myself falling, then everything went black." I answered with a frown. Something didn't seem right about my story. I'd heard of people dying of food poisoning, but it typically didn't happen that quickly.
Chich must have come to the same conclusion, because he growled, "Well, I'm no doctor, but I think you got a particularly bad case of food poisoning, muchacho- though I've never heard of it happening that fast. I guess you broke your arm when you collapsed, huh?"
That didn't sound quite right either, so I shook my head. But what other possible explanation could there be? Just then, a ridiculous thought buzzed through my mind like an angry hornet. In a fit of jealousy, could Ernesto have casually just tossed my- body- in a ditch or shallow grave somewhere and disappeared with my guitar? He did say that he couldn't achieve his dream without me- or, more precisely, my songs. Then I shook my head. Ernesto would never do that. He was like a brother to me, ever since we lived in the orphanage in Santa Cecilia. He was about four years older than I was, and I'd always looked up to him. He was confident, strong, charismatic, and talented, everything that I'd wanted to become. He was my inspiration. That is, until I met the most beautiful angel in the world, mí corazón, Imelda. And then, when we had Coco- my life was utter bliss. My heart- or memory of it, rather- melted at the thought of my adorable daughter, now fatherless at three years old, and Imelda, widowed at twenty-two.
I couldn't. I couldn't think about them. It was just too painful. My entire body- or at least, what was left of it- ached from the mere thought of them. Reality came crashing down on me again while I watched absentmindedly as Chicharron- bless him- was wrapping some extra duct tape around my fractured bone so it could heal properly. I could never see my family again. Not in this world, anyway.
Just then, a wild hope flared to life and rose up in my chest. They may not be able to see me, but maybe there was a way that I could still see them! Once a year, on the first of Noviembre, every familia in México sets up a shrine called an ofrenda with photos of their departed loved ones, along with offerings of foods that they'd loved in life. I knew Imelda had that picture that we'd had taken on Coco's birthday, just a few days before I left on tour. It would only be for one night every year, but it was better than nothing. There was a way that I could still see my family!
By this time, Chicharron had finished with his 'ministrations' with my arm, and I flexed it experimentally to see if it still bent properly. Satisfied, I gave him the biggest grin I could manage as thanks and stood to my feet, looking down at myself again in a vain attempt to pass off all of this as a really bad dream. Sighing heavily when that failed spectacularly, I shifted my hips slightly to adjust the way my trousers were sitting, when all of a sudden they dropped right to the ground with a puff of dust from the dirt road.
Chicharron snorted loudly in amusement as I let out a 'Yipe!' of embarrassment and yanked them back up again, cinching the belt tighter around my pelvis to hold up my pants. I was even thinner now that I was just a skeleton with eyes, teeth and hair, so it made sense that I'd need to tighten my belt. If I'd still been able to blush, my face would probably have been bright roja as a tomato.
"It's not funny." I growled in embarrassment as Chicharron continued to chortle.
"Yes it is." He argued, still chuckling. "Your face was priceless."
I just scowled and shook my head, deciding to ignore my new friend for the moment as I adjusted the rest of my clothes. Everything was several sizes too big now for my literally bony frame, so I tightened my bow-tie and rolled up the sleeves of my undershirt so that it would fill out my arms a bit better. Or rather, lack thereof.
A small distance away, the Xolo that was apparently my alebrije was busy scratching himself behind a notched ear and panting in a 'friendly dog' manner as he did so. I whistled quietly for him to come, and- to my surprise- he came bounding up faster than you could say 'Xoloitzcuintli', nearly running into me and scattering my bones across the road. Luckily, the area was deserted at this time of night- or early morning- otherwise I would have feared for his safety with all the cars and horse-drawn carriages on one of the main streets of the city.
"Let's go, boy." I sighed heavily again as I bent down to pet the animal's head affectionately. He was a good dog. It wasn't his fault I was in this predicament, so I had no reason to take it out on him. "I don't belong on this side anymore. You think you could show us the way to the Land of the Dead?"
The dog perked up at that, as if someone had suddenly flipped a switch in his brain. He was a lot smarter than he'd first let on. Before, he was just acting like a brainless animal that had no clue what was going on, but now he looked as calm and stoic as one of those canines used by officers of the law or the blind and/or otherwise disabled. Trotting along down the road, the Xolo would look back every ten paces or so to make sure that we were following. I would smile encouragingly at him whenever this would happen, trying to establish a bond of trust and mutual respect with the animal spirit guide.
I took in as much of the capitol city as I could while we walked, somehow knowing that I wouldn't see it for a very long time. If ever again. On our trek, we passed by a post office, and I was sorely tempted to slip my final letter home into the mail slot in the door- along with a photo of myself for my familia so they would remember me. Ernesto had helped me take that picture a few weeks ago, and I was wearing the widest and goofiest grin I could manage for my niña pequeña, to make her smile. Then I sighed. I was incorporeal now, as was everything I had on me. It was impossible for the dead to interact with any of the living. Wasn't it? Sighing heavily and with a heavier heart, I shuffled past the post office and glanced almost yearningly through the windows, just imagining my family back home, waiting patiently for a letter- and father- that would never come. Vaguely, I noticed that the postal service building had a calendar tacked to one of the walls, and I gave a jolt of surprise when I saw today's date. It was the last day of November, 1921. In other words, my birthday. The same as my death-day. Oh, the irony. Dios mio, if this is your idea of a joke, I'm not the least bit amused!
Eventually we came to an enormous cemetery, where lay the bones of thousands- if not more- of México City's sons and daughters over the years. Who knows? Perhaps even some of the old Aztec people were buried here, as México City was once known as Tenochtitlán, the capitol of the ancient empire in the 1500s. The cemetery extended right into the desert, where dust devils and miniature sandstorms stirred up the ever-changing landscape as if they could never make up their minds. Now, however, I couldn't see the desert at all. At the edge of the graveyard was a cavernous ravine, probably over a thousand-foot drop straight down into a vast river that meandered slowly over its bed, continuing its course from time immemorial to time eternal. Immediately, I knew that this was no ordinary river. It was a river of the dead, one that separated the two worlds so that they could not mix.
"So- what, do they expect us to just swim over there?" I mused- half to myself and half aloud- as my alebrije bounded ahead, dodging gravestones and crucifixes like a professional.
"Huh?" Chich answered, looking around himself at the expansive boneyard. "Nah. Didn't you see that bridge over there? That's our path across."
I looked in the direction that he was pointing, and I was so surprised at the sight that met my eyes that they fell right through my skull and down into my mouth, where they rolled around a little in my lower jaw. Chich chuckled again as I hit my chin to push my eyes back into their sockets, then both of us followed my excitable alebrije to the suspended bridge that seemed to be made of millions of marigolds and their petals.
"See? What'd I tell ya? That's the cempasúchil bridge. Pretty, huh? It'll take us right to the Land of the Dead. But I gotta warn ya. It's a 'One Way' road for most of the year, only turning 'Two Way' for Día de Muertos. Once you cross, there's no way to get back to this side again, except on the first of November. You sure you got everything?" Chich asked in concern, and I slowly nodded.
"I didn't have anything here except the clothes on my back when we met, and besides, it's not like I can walk all the way back to Santa Cecilia and go home to my family. Ay, Dios mio, this is a mess." I huffed with a barely concealed sob. My family will never see me again in this world. My loco (in a good way) cuñados, Óscar and Felipe. Mí amor, my Imelda. My little Coco- I couldn't hold it in any longer. Collapsing to my knees, I wept- though I shed no tears. Apparently that wasn't possible anymore. I wept for my family, for my home- for the small town I'd known and loved all my life- and yes, I wept for myself- for my life cut so tragically short after barely twenty-one years.
"Sí. Them's the breaks." Chich growled somewhat sympathetically. I came to notice that he growled a lot when he was emotional. He didn't smile much, only when something was genuinely funny- like when I lost my pants earlier. And he wasn't exactly the 'friendly' type, with his gruff exterior. But I could tell that he had a good heart, figuratively, under all that 'emotionless armor'. If he didn't, then why would he have helped me come to terms with what happened and explain what came next after d- death? I still couldn't really think that word without wincing.
"Well, we're not gonna get anywhere just standing here all night." Chich growled again, sauntering off toward the marigold bridge and shooting a glance back at me to see if I was following. After a moment, I did so, sparing one last glance for the Land of the Living, the sprawling México City, and the train station at the far end. The train's whistle drowned out my resigned sigh as the locomotive finally left the station. That was the train that would have taken me home, had it not been for that stupid chorizo. In fact, I still had my ticket in the pocket of my trousers. Maybe I could trade it for something I might need on the other side? Was such a thing possible?
"Oye, Héctor. You coming?" Chich called, snapping me out of my reverie, one booted foot already stepping on the edge of the bridge.
"¡Sí! ¡Esperamé, amigo!" I called back, weaving through the tombstones and graves to the edge of the boneyard where my friend and spirit guide were waiting- somewhat patiently- for me.
We all passed through some sort of mist-like barrier at the foot of the bridge that divided the Land of the Living from that of the Dead, and an orange mist seemed to evaporate off me and my human companion. I hadn't noticed before, but apparently we'd been emitting our own auras. That was a little freaky. My alebrije, however, looked exactly the same as he bounded ahead of us, rolling around excitedly in the cempasúchil petals and making them fly all over the place. I smiled sadly. At least one of us was having a good time.
"Hey, you silly!" I laughed softly as I caught up with my exuberant spirit animal. "I thought you were supposed to be my guide. You can't go running off on me like that!" I teased him gently. "You gotta stay with me, boy. We don't know- where- we-"
I never finished that thought as the sight of the sprawling Land of the Dead caught my attention, and my lower jaw fell right off the bottom of my skull in shock. Too flabbergasted to pick it up, I just sat there like an idiota as Chich walked up and put a bony hand on my collarbone.
"Quite a sight, huh?" He chuckled as nonchalantly as possible, but I could tell that he was just as floored as I was.
"That's an understatement, amigo." I managed to gasp after about two minutes, finally replacing my jawbone back on my face.
"Well, this bridge won't stay here forever. It blows away by dawn, saw it happen a billion times before. So, unless you wanted to go swimming in that river today, I suggest we get our culatas moving over to that 'New Arrivals' sign over there and see what's next." Chich raised an eye-ridge and I stood to my feet, nodding and following my rather blunt friend off the cempasúchil bridge, and to the Land that would become my prison- for the next ninety-six years.
End of chapter 1
Next chapter teaser: Victoria
Ah, our favorite lovable, adorkable goofball. May he finally rest in peace with his family. Gotta feel for the poor guy.
I mean, not only was he murdered by his best friend, said best friend also made a laughingstock of him by lying about how he died. He didn't choke on a chorizo. He didn't get food poisoning, (which was his own guess and was actually pretty close to the truth). He was flat-out poisoned. Just for trying to go home to his family. He was homesick. He probably would have come back to the tour at some point if Ernesto de la CREEP hadn't been so jealous and greedy.
Okay, sorry. Rant over. I just really love those 'big brother' characters, and Héctor is no exception despite the fact that he's actually Miguel's great-great grandfather rather than a big brother. It's almost the same thing. Their dynamic in the movie is so precious and innocent, it's like they really are brothers, technically only nine years apart in age.
Gah, I went on another rant! Okay, stop that.
I absolutely love this guy! He looks like a bum, but he's got a heart of pure gold in that string-bean torso of his. XD
So, this is my take on what happened after Héctor's flashback to his murder. Just my head-canon. You're free to come to your own conclusions.
I heavily reference a picture from dA in this story. Its 'you are new around here' by 'Kerolunatica'.
This also provides a plausible explanation for why Héctor had a photo of himself when he met Miguel in the LotD. It makes sense, don't it?
Translations (for those who need it):
Bienvenidos a todos - welcome to all
Peso - dollar
Hola - hello
Hermano - brother
Chorizo - spicy Méxican sausage dish
Zapatos - shoes
Chaqueta - jacket
Charro suit - Mariachi outfit
Santa Cecilia - Saint Cecilia (Patron saint of musicians)
Perro - dog
Cuñado(s) - brother(s)-in-law
Ay - Oh
Dios mío - my God
Por favor - please
Santa Maria - Saint Mary
Amigo - friend
Músico - musician
Muchacho - young man
Gracias - thank you
Señor - sir or mister
Alebrije - Spirit guide, usually an amalgam of various creatures, brightly multicolored
Hombre - Man or guy
Gato - cat
Cempasúchil - marigold petal
Mí corazón - my heart
Noviembre - November
Familia - family
Ofrenda - family shrine
Roja - red
Niña pequeña - little girl
Dia de (los) Muertos - Day of the Dead
Loco - crazy
Cuñados - brother(s)-in-law
Mí amor - my love
Sí - yes
Oye - Hey
Esperamé - wait for me
Idiota - idiot
Culatas - butts
Well, that's it for this chapter! See you in the next one! ¡Hasta la vista, mís amigos!
God Bless!
Tsunami Storm