I'm apparently really, really bad at updating. Honestly, most of the time I just have no motivation to write. To anyone waiting on any of my other stories, I'm really sorry, I'll try to work on them again soon. I really want to update Fractured Lights in the near future and I want to say that I read everyone's reviews, they're like little nudges reminding I should be writing haha.

I posted this on AO3 already, but I figured there's probably plenty of people on here as well who might enjoy it.

Part 1

When Coco was a little girl, her mamá and papá would sing the most beautiful songs. But that was before hard lines inked her mamá's face and music twisted into a curse. Before Coco learned how sometimes people left, and never came back.

Coco didn't remember much of that initial transition, but if she reached really, really hard, she could recall a childish belief that sooner or later her papá would walk through the door. She couldn't possibly have understood why mamá took up making shoes, or why papá's things were shoved in a box and left with the day's trash.

"It's for the best mija. One day you'll understand."

She'd been inconsolable. "I do understand, you don't want him to come back!"

"Coco-"

"It's all your fault!"

Before long that turned into anger. Anger at mama, her tios, at those stupid, stupid shoes. Even at herself. And Dios he was taking too long, she was gonna give him a hard time when he returned, just for a little while.

She still believed, even when months turned into years. Coco was stubborn like that. Each night she would sing their song, because somewhere papá was singing too. Even mamá didn't have the heart to tell her to stop.

One night, Coco did stop. She couldn't tell you when exactly it happened, or what triggered the change. She settled down to sleep, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of mamá going to bed herself and-

And the words got stuck in her throat. She blinked, caught her breath. "Rem- remember- re-" She pressed the back of her palm against her lips, stifling a sob. Her body started to tremble and Coco grew afraid, because she thought mama might hear those terrible sounds bubbling from her chest.

Coco never tried singing their song again. How foolish to think she'd had a claim on the lullaby in the first place. But she didn't learn that until years later, when she entered school. Mama's ban on music could only reach so far.

It was then, when she learned more that Coco began to secretly wonder, if perhaps she'd been too difficult, or not musically gifted enough. Mamá liked to hint he hadn't wanted to put down roots, but that was a nice way of saying he hadn't wanted a child, was it not? As she became a teenager, Coco fixed this toxic way of thinking. She'd been a child, after all. No, she wasn't to blame, which meant it was all on him. Like that, Coco grew to resent her father. If she wasn't good enough for him, then he could damn well not be good enough for her.

Over the years the resentment only grew, fueled by her own maternal instincts as she held her daughter for the first time. She tried to imagine a world where she might willingly let Elena go, and the thought was so terrible she vowed to burn every single letter as soon as she was released home.

She didn't.

There were years, many years where Coco didn't think about him. She wasn't damaged, and she was old enough to know how to leave the past in the past. She had everything she needed, right where she was.

But that was before, now so many of her loved ones were gone, and her mind had turned hazy. She often looked at people and didn't know who they were. She knew her papa though, and all wounds paled to the overwhelming need to see him one more time.

Sooner or later, papá would come home. And oh, there'd been a song once. If Coco tried, could she still remember the words? Or would they be as out of reach as everything else these days? Remember-

No, no, she couldn't. Coco had forgotten a lot in her old age, but she still remembered it hadn't been her song after all.

Music. What an unfamiliar sound. Soft chords, lyrics that nudged something in Coco's mind and made her heart skip beats. This was the lullaby she knew, the one that was meant only for her…

Gentle, calloused hands-

tucking her to bed-

I love you, mija.

More than the sky?

Of course, mija.

And Christmas?

More than Christmas, Coco.

A pause. More than your guitar?

A kiss on her forehead. More than anything.

Papá. Her papá. For the first time since she was a child, Coco sang.

"He loved you mama Coco, he loved you so much." Her Miguel said, tears glistering in his eyes.

And Coco smiled. For once it was enough.

Coco opened her eyes to a hospital-like room, with rows of plain white beds. She sat up with an ease she hadn't felt in years, her mind perfectly clear. Coco knew then, she was dead.

One of the figures scuffling around hurried up to her, then everything flew by in a haze of confusion mixed with excitement. There were a lot of… people? Skeletons, trying to explain this strange world. Coco tried to listen, but it was overwhelming and more than anything, she couldn't stop thinking about Elena and Miguel and all the others she had left behind.

"Mrs. Rivera? Mrs. Rivera, your family is here." This finally caught Coco's attention.

"My… family?" She echoed slowly. But she was- was dead, and her family was alive.

The young looking skeleton smiled patiently. "Your deceased family is here to take you home." She explained.

Coco gaped, did that mean what she thought it meant? Her ija Victoria, her love Julio… mamá? She could see them all again?

She must have said it out loud, because the woman nodded with a small 'yes' and stood up. "Would you like to see them now? It's okay if you'd like more time to process. This is a lot to take in."

Coco hesitated. She was ecstatic at the idea of seeing her loved ones again, but what if it wasn't real? Coco knew a thing or two about disappointment, she wasn't sure she could handle any more.

"I could make you some tea?" The woman offered.

Coco swallowed down her fear. She was still stubborn, after all. "I want to see them now."

"Of course." The woman waited for Coco to slowly stand up and then lead her to the 'Reunions' room. She opened the door for Coco. "I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thank you." Coco smiled kindly and stepped through the door.

Coco was surprised by the various skeletons, some crying in each other's arms, others talking quietly. The appearance would certainly take some getting used to. Her eyes quickly strayed to a group in the corner.

"Oh." A familiar voice called. "Mi amor!" Suddenly she was engulfed by strong bony arms.

"Julio." Coco melted into the hug. She could have recognized her husband anywhere. Dios, it really was them. It was all true. "Julio, oh Julio." She repeated. She looked up to more familiar faces staring at her with glee. "Victoria!" She cried, reaching for her ijas hand.

Julio released his hold to allow Victoria to fall into Coco's arms. And then by the time Coco's mamá was wrapping Coco up in her arms, she was laughing with happiness. She hugged each family member with joy dancing in her chest.

But then mamá cleared her throat and took Coco's hand, and her family parted, pushing another figure to the front.

"There's someone who's waited a really long time to see you, mija." Mamá began gently.

Coco looked up at the new figure and paused. It was a man, a skeleton like the others, yet his bones were yellowed and fractured in a way she hadn't seen in the others. The sight might have brought out her deep-rooted maternal instincts, had she not been so overwhelmed by the day's events.

The man was staring at Coco with both awe and what could only have been desperation. Upon closer inspection, Coco could make out the tiniest trembles in his clenched fists.

The man didn't move.

So, neither did Coco. The moment felt terribly fragile, yet important. A fact reinforced by her families' sudden silence. Coco opened her mouth, 'who are you?' on the tip of her tongue.

Elena's devastated expression. 'I'm here, mama.'

The memory startled Coco enough to swallow the question. The thought of seeing that look on this skeleton's face seemed unbearable.

The man took a hesitant step closer, her name falling with his breath.

And Coco realized she already knew. "Papa?" One word, muscle memory acting before she could understand.

The man visibly sagged, reached out his hands. "Mija," He said like a prayer. "Oh, mija."

Belatedly, Coco realized the man was going to hug her. She wanted him to, so, so badly.

He loved you, mamá Coco.

More than your guitar?

Coco flinched away from the reaching arms and watched the man's face crumple after all. "It's me, Coco. I- I'm so, so sorry."

How many times had she longed to hear those words? Today, they filled her with nausea. Coco looked at her mamá hopefully. If Imelda told her father he was a lifetime too late, Coco wouldn't have to.

But mamá's brows were furrowed with concern instead of anger. "A lot's changed, mija. There are things we didn't know."

Well, she'd always known that, but Coco didn't want to hear it now. Once upon a time she waited too long, hoped too fiercely... spent too many nights singing a song that never belonged to her.

As if reading her daughter's mind, Imelda's eyes hardened with determination. She rubbed Coco's hand soothingly, before looking up at Héctor. "She's overwhelmed, it's best we leave this for another day."

Héctor looked wrecked, but he clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Why don't Coco and I take the train, and you all can fly with Pepita? We'll meet you at home." Imelda suggested, casting Héctor an apologetic glance.

Julio grabbed Héctor's hand. "Sí, sí we can get a head start on dinner."

Even as the others nudged him out the door, Héctor's eyes never left Coco's face, up until the last moment, when the door swung shut, separating father and daughter once again.

The train ride was almost as overwhelming as everything else. Apparently, the city was enormous... and very, very crowded. It made Coco's head spin and Mamá's vague explanations only served to confuse her further.

Apparently, Miguel became cursed on the last dia de los Muertos, changing everything during the course of the night. Coco herself found herself thinking back on a hazy night of her living family in a panic and- and Miguel's tear-filled eyes pleading with her.

Imelda explained how Miguel accidently ran into Héctor, neither knowing who the other was. There was some adventure involved and by the end of the night, they had revealed what had really happened to Héctor all those years ago. He had been trying to come home when he died.

"Héctor loves you, Coco. The things you grew up hearing- they were said out of anger and hurt." Imelda stressed.

But Coco shook her head. "I don't understand. He left, mamá. You said yourself no circumstances could ever make that okay."

Imelda sighed deeply. "It's his story to tell, mija. I only hope you will find it in yourself to hear it." She hesitated. "I messed up too, Coco. The way I handled everything- I just took so much from him..."

Including you, Coco finished in her head. She wanted to remind mamá that little girls and struggling mothers weren't to blame for what wayward husbands did. And that they were better off without that musician anyway, because those were the things she'd believed when she couldn't keep believing in dreams.

But somehow everything was now different.

Thank you for reading, part 2 (which is the last one) still needs some work, I will do my best to be quick with it.