A/N: This takes place in the middle of Un Poco Loco. On my second viewing, I noticed that Imelda doesn't go through the plaza to look for Miguel the way the rest of the family does (she stays close to Pepita). On my third time watching, I started wondering why Imelda doesn't go straight to the stage when it seems like she can at least hear and see Un Poco Loco being performed. Enjoy!
Imelda looks at the glowing Rivera footprints embedded in the cobblestone. "Find him!" she tells her family. Her instinct is to stay close to her alebrije - so she does.
Ay mi Dios... Where is that boy? There! A flash of red on the stage - that has to be Miguel. Imelda takes a step, but Pepita actually blocks her from moving forward.
"Pepita!" She hisses. "That's our boy on the stage, we need to get him home!"
The alebrije shakes her head, flattens her wings against her back. Every move Imelda makes to go toward the stage, Pepita counters.
"Pepita, please! That's our boy! We need to get him home!"
She stands firm, eyes narrowed at the one she's supposed to guide. She jerks her head - just slightly - toward Héctor.
"Qué!? Why should I have anything to do with that... That... Musicó! That walk-away coward!"
His voice, joking with Miguel, booms from the stage as she asks the question.
Pepita growls softly, gently butting heads with her human. Trying to make her understand that Héctor is important to her journey. Anger runs deep in Imelda's frame - her alebrije knows this, but sees the larger picture.
"Please, mi alebrije. I don't know what your purpose is... I just want to bring Miguel home. His mamá y papá must be so worried. Not to mention Elena and - " saying her daughter's name hurts the place her heart once was. Nevertheless, Pepita insists Imelda watch this performance. She sits, unmoving, and tilts her head to the stage again.
"Fine! Will we go after him when this foolishness is done, then?"
Pepita nods, nudging her human to actually watch the performance.
Miguel's voice is beautiful - untrained, yes, but considering her generations-long ban on music, she's not surprised. It's when Héctor sings with him that she's floored.
She hasn't heard him sing anything but a drunken shanty in years. Miguel has, somehow, inspired him - and it hits her like a punch to the gut: He doesn't know.
Imelda's certain of it, but asks anyway. "They have... No idea, do they? Neither of them?"
Pepita shakes her head again. No.
"Ay, mi Dios..." she whispers.
Pepita grunts and stands.
As Héctor puts himself together and stands prim, another realization hits her - this time in the chest: she still loves him. It rattles her spine, makes her ribcage quake. When her boys spin together, they are filled with joy; it takes her breath away.
Shaking off her sudden emptiness, she and Pepita fly into the neon night.