A/N: This is just a oneshot that I came up with while browsing the Coco tag on tumblr. I haven't had a lot of time to write fanfic lately so it was nice to sit down and write this. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It was the first Dia de los Muertos since he had died. He had learned early on from others that it was true; he would be able to return to the land of the living to see his family. His chest ached with the need to see Coco and Imelda again. He desperately wanted to apologize for not going home sooner, for leaving in the first place. If he had stayed where he belonged his life may not have ended so prematurely.

Hector stood in line bouncing on the balls of his feet. He leaned to the side to look around the skeletons in front of him impatiently. This was what they called the "early crowd". The ones that waited eagerly for the bridge to open so they could cross over. It was usually made up of those who didn't have anyone they knew who had passed over before them, or those who it was their first Dia de los Muertos among the dead. For Hector it was both. He never knew his parents, had no other family than his wife and child.

Finally, there was a tone, like a bell, and the line started moving. He didn't know how long it was before he was able to see the check out officer for their line. Time move strangely there, too slowly and too quickly all at once. The people going to see their families would step forward, allow some strange device to scan them, and if they were on an ofrenda they were allowed to cross the bridge.

Hector imagined Ernesto going back to Santa Cecelia to tell Imelda and Coco that he had died of food poisoning of all things. It was such a stupid way to die. His fists clenched by his sides as he moved forward with the line. It wasn't fair that something as small as some chorizo that had gone off was what kept him from returning home. He was told that anger was the most common reaction of those who crossed over early in life. It had been several months and he was still dealing with it every day.

The check out officer efficiently passed people through her line. Hector was grateful for it. He could see that the other lines were moving slowly as their officers took their time, chatting for a moment with each person as they went to visit those whom they had left behind. Hector's bones rattled nervously when he realized that he was next in line.

"There you are on your brother's ofrenda," the officer said to the woman she had just scanned.

The woman wiped a tear from her eye. "Santiago always took care of me after my accident."

As touching as it was Hector silently urged her to move on so that he could go next. A moment later she started for the bridge and Hector was motioned forward by the officer. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and stepped forward. His eyes squeezed shut on impulse unsure if the scanning would be painful. Fortunately, he felt nothing.

He opened his eyes again moments later and found the officer frowning at her screen. She then looked back up at Hector. Something was wrong. The bones in his neck tightened in apprehension. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you aren't on anyone's ofrenda." The officer gave him a sad smile. "Maybe next year." She started to motion the next person forward but stopped when she realized that Hector wasn't moving.

He was frozen. How could his picture not be up? There were several photos not only of him but of their family sitting on shelves in their home. Any of them would have been enough to allow to pass back over. Was it possible that none of them made it onto their ofrenda? He knew that Imelda had been against him leaving but would she have been so bitter as to not even put up his picture after he died.

"There has to have been some mistake," he told the officer. That was it. Maybe their scanner thingy broke or scanned him wrong. "Do it again."

"Sir, I-"

"Please!" He was begging and he hated it but he had to try again. She would scan his face again and she would tell him that it had been a mistake the first time. She would tell him that his picture was up on his family's ofrenda. He would cross the bridge and see Coco and Imelda again. "Please."

The officer sighed and pressed the button to scan his face again. She shook her head. "I'm truly sorry, but your picture is not up."

"Do it again," he whispered. His voice cracked as he spoke. This wasn't right. There was a mistake. There had to be some reason that the scanner was not working on him. Imelda wouldn't do this to him.

"Sir, there are other people waiting-"

"DO IT AGAIN!" he yelled. The volume of his voice made the officer jump and even startled himself. He had never raised his voice like that before, even when arguing with Ernesto. "I need you to try again! My wife must have put my picture up. She must have."

The officer made some sort of signal to someone over his shoulder. He turned to see security approaching him. Two intimidating skeletons in blue uniforms glaring at him. The bridge was right there. He needed to see his family again.

Hector made a run for it. The bridge wasn't that far. He shoved through the initial crowd that was crossing the bridge first. He heard people shouting in indignation and yelling at him to stop. He had to see Coco. As soon as his feet touched the marigolds that made up the bridge he could tell that he had made a mistake. His feet sank in while everyone around him seemed to be walking on solid ground. He pushed forward anyways. He sank in to his ankles, then to his knees, and then to his thighs, until he was stuck chest deep in the bridge.

Officers grabbed him under his armpits and started dragging him back toward land of the dead. "No! Please! I need to see my wife and my daughter!" They ignored his pleas and continued on. Hector struggled, trying to twist out of their grasp. "Please! I need to see Coco…"

This wasn't any mistake. His body went limp as they dragged him. This was his fault. Imelda must hate him for leaving. Even in his death she held on to it. He never should have left them. Maybe next year Imelda will have forgiven him. That was all he had: hope for next year that someone would put his picture up.