Finding Manolo fic, after Jorge revealed who really did. Fairly proud of how it came out.

The rain had been there since Carlos had woken up, and thus his mind simply ignored it.

However he noticed it again when he heard screaming and crying. If anything it was louder now. Despite his distaste for the weather he forced himself outside to find out what was going on.

"Maria's dead." One of the sisters sobbed.

Carlos was frozen for a moment. Dead? But how?

And then, in spite of his concern for the girl, all he could think about was Manolo.

The look in the boys eyes when he simply thought he had lost her in love flashed into his mind. What would his response be to losing her like this?

Probably similar to how Carlos was when Carmen died.

He made his way back to the bull ring as fast as he could. A part of him, a foolish part, hoped that Manolo was somewhere inside. Carlos had often expressed his grief in anger, perhaps his son would do the same.

But he was nowhere to be found. Carlos filled in his grandmother on what was happening as he got ready to search the town.

"I need to find him." He said.

"Yeah, before he does something stupid." Was all the woman said at the end of it. Her expression hadn't wavered, but her hands stopped knitting. "Like you."

Carlos pretended he didn't hear her as he ran out into the rain.

Finding Manolo proved to be a challenge. The boy wasn't in any of his usual spots. The Rodriguez hadn't seen him either, not since last night they said.

He did stop by General Posada's house. Although he was fully aware of how the general felt toward his son it was still possible Manolo was inside.

Joaquín answered the door.

The boy look tired, exhausted even. Carlos was certain Maria's death was hitting him just as hard, but he hadn't come to give his sympathy.

"Señor?" Joaquín looked at him but then dodged his gaze.

"Have you seen Manolo?"

"Mano-" The name fell from his lips and he looked past the father. "I last saw him across the bridge. He was with María when she..."

"I see. Thank you." Carlos turned.

"Ah, Señor? If you find him could you tell him I'd like to speak with him?"

Carlos wasn't blind to Joaquín's side glances. The boy always had a habit of doing that when he was in trouble for one reason or another. Something must have happened when María died.

But still, he nodded before he made his way to the bridge.

The rain was still falling but he had gotten used to it yet again. In spite of how drenched his clothes were all he could think about was finding his son. Find him, make sure he was okay, make sure he didn't do anything foolish. Carlos had, or at least he started to. It took his grandmother to snap him out of it, to remind him that he couldn't behave that way. He had Manolo to think about. He had his son to protect and raise, in spite of the absence of his wife.

It would always be a little lonely without his wife, but Manolo made it worthwhile.

The bridge was scattered with candles, all put out by the downpour. Had his son set these out? He chuckled and shook his head at the idea. He could picture the boy making sure each one was in place before lighting it, spending the entire night preparing this fiasco. María must have been impressed by it.

At least until...

Had she died here? Carlos had to assume she did. What could have possibly happened?

"Manolo?" He finally called out as he neared the shore. "Mijo?"

There was no response, or if there was the rain drowned it out. His eyes scanned the tree until he spotted something familiar.

Manolo's guitar lay there on the ground. Before Carlos could even question why his gaze moved over and found his son not lying much farther off.

"Manolo?" He thought nothing as he stepped closer. Laying on the ground in the rain seemed like a tame response when someone you loved died. "Come mijo, we should-"

A terrible chill ran from his shoulders down to his stomach. Something was wrong. He dashed over to Manolo and knelt next to him.

"Manolo?" Why were his eyes so empty? Why didn't they move?

He grabbed the young torero's face and turned it toward him.

"Mijo-"

Everything froze.

The rain fell silently around now. His heart seemed to stop beating all together and he held his breath.

Manolo's face was cold, which at first he assumed was from the rain, but he couldn't feel anything else. There was no pulse, no breathing, not a single muscle moved.

"Manolo!" He screamed this time, as loud as he could. His mind raced as he tried to think of something he could do. There had to be something he could do.

He lifted Manolo, leaning the boy's head against his chest. The sensation reminded him far too much of the last time he saw his wife. The sick sensation in his stomach plummeted and he curled over.

What did he do? What was he supposed to do.

"Manolo please, wake up." He whispered and buried his face in his son's shoulder. He knew he should try to do something but his mind just kept echoing memories back and forth.

When was the last time he had held his son this close?

All sorts of memories of carrying him flashed by. So many times Manolo had begged to climb up on his father's shoulders and shouted for him to charge. He remembered the few close calls in the bull fighting ring that had left Carlos clinging to his son, but only for a few moments. The man was always aware of the risks of putting his son in the ring, and yet he continued to pray a day like that never came.

And yet, his son was dead, and not even by a bull.

But a bull, Carlos could have fought a bull. He would easily jump into that ring yet again and charge straight at the animal. Fighting a bull, taking a horn for his son, that was easy. He could do that.

And yet, his son was dead.

Carlos couldn't protect him.

He failed to protect Carmen, and years later he failed Manolo too.

The tears finally came, all at once. His body shook violently and he screamed again, the sound muffled by his son's uniform.

"A Sanchez man never apologizes." The words from his own father echo'd in his mind. It had seemed like a legacy for so long.

But damn those words. Damn himself for ever saying them to his own son.

"I'm sorry." He did his best to say as he almost crushed Manolo's body in his grip. "I'm sorry, mijo. I'm..."

What good was it now. Manolo couldn't hear him.

Carlos had no idea how much time had passed. All he could focus on was the fact he was holding his son, and yet he wasn't. The lack of movement, of warmth, every fiber of him wanted to deny it was his son at all. That he he should just let go and keep searching. That Manolo would show up alive and well. He'd ask why his father was holding him so tight, but maybe he would still return the gesture.

"Señor?"

The voice tore Carlos out of his trance. He now realized the rain had stopped, though the dark clouds remained in the sky.

When he turned his head he saw Joaquín standing there. The boys eyes were wide, afraid.

And they should be.

He couldn't count the amount of times his grandmother had yelled at him after Carmen's death. Always for the same reason too. "Your grief is no excuse to treat everyone like that." He had tried to remember those words, especially in front of his child. Manolo didn't need to witness the rage in Carlos' voice as he tried to push his way through his emotions.

But Manolo wasn't here anymore, and Carlos was certainly angry.

"Did you... is Manolo all right?"

"Does he look all right?" Carlos stood, struggling to lift the boy for a moment.

"Manolo?" Joaquín's voice was so quiet, whimpering even, the exact opposite of the man who had strode into the arena yesterday.

"What happened to my son, Joaquín?" Carlos struggled to keep his voice low as he gritted his teeth.

"I- Manolo said there was a snake that bit Maria. Perhaps it... did... did he come back on purpose?" The soldier stumbled back.

The thought slammed into Carlos. Did his son let this happen?

"Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Too late.

"I didn't mean what I said." Joaquín was muttering, but Carlos still heard.

"What?" He growled. "What did you just say?"

The boy jumped. "I just- I didn't mean it. There was a bit of an argument when we found María's body-"

"This is your doing?" Carlos couldn't contain his voice anymore. It boomed and echoed across the lake as he stared at his son's supposed friend.

Joaquín opened his mouth, but said nothing.

"Why didn't you protect him?" Carlos didn't relent and even stepped forward. "The great hero of San Angel? Just what are those medals of yours supposed to prove? Why didn't you protect him?"

Something broke in Joaquín's eyes. His shoulders dropped and it seemed as if his legs would give out.

Carlos spotted something on his chest glow green.

"I'm sorry." The shaking voice distracted him. "Do you want me to-"

"No." The father snapped the word out as harshly as he could. "Please, just go."

Joaquín managed a nod, looking dizzy now, as he turned and trudged across the bridge.

Perhaps Carlos would regret his words later, but he certainly didn't now. Despite how much traveling that boy had done he still had much to learn.

He collapsed to his knees again. His son's body had become so heavy in his arms. A cold, empty, hollow weight that made him wish he could sink into the ground.

The ground.

Carlos knew he needed to bury the boy. In spite of how there should be a ceremony the town would be too focused on María. He wasn't a fool.

He had no choice but to leave his son there as he went to find a shovel. The walk seemed to take ages, and yet he could barely remember it. His mind started to echo again.

"Do you think María was impressed?" His son's eyes glittered as he looked up at him.

"Her and every girl in town." He laughed.
...

"That was amazing papá. Why did you ever stop bullfighting?"

"Well I certainly wasn't leaving you with your great-grandmother."

"Papá!" Manolo shouted at him but laughed. "I'm telling her you said that."

"If you do you'll be in so much trouble."

"Oh yeah?" The boy grinned before he darted off.

"Get back here mijo!"

"Bisabuela! Did you hear what Papá just said?"
...

"Papá?"

"Yes mijo?"

"I know you don't want me practicing guitar but um... I wrote a song about you and mom."

The memory cut into Carlos' mind and his chest. He remembered his hesitation at the time, but the boy's eyes were so desperate.

Now the tune was echoing in his head. His son had still been so young then, barely able to play, but he remembered. He remembered every faulty note and every time Manolo's voice cracked and tripped over the words. Every detail was coming back with clarity.

"She sways with the song..." Carlos found himself mumbling the words as he made his way into the bullfighting arena. "Twirling it in her hands..."

He continued to mutter the lyrics, oblivious of the tears now covering his face. He tore through a few supply rooms until he found one. It felt so much heavier than it should.

"A dance he never knew before... with a foe twice as strong..." He had almost made it out. "For force could never win... never..."

Carlos leaned on the shovel to keep himself standing. His throat hurt as he tried to hold back the sobs. Even with his inability to voice any more of the lyrics they still buzzed around in his head.

"Carlos?"

His grandmother's voice made him stand up straight, but he didn't move.

"Did you find him?"

He looked at the ceiling, praying for the will power to speak.

"Yes." His voice felt dry in spite of all the tears. "He... did something stupid."

He expected something to hit his head, for the older woman to shout at him. He waited for her to scold him and spit about all the foolish things he had done.

Instead it was just silence for a moment. Then, "I see. Take care of him, and yourself."

Carlos didn't say anything. He couldn't. All he could do was head back to the tree. His steps were heavy. The shovel dragged on the ground a few times reminding himself to lift it. The streets were so quiet now, the sky still grey as ever.

When he reached the tree he almost forgot Manolo was there. Like his mind was trying to forget the body's presence. But no, his son was still lying in the same position as he had left him. His eyes must have fallen shut at some point when Carlos was holding him.

Carlos wasted no time digging into the earth. Hopefully the work would distract him, keep him from thinking. Only a few moments into it he heard footsteps.

Turning he saw what were normally his least favorite people to be around, the Rodriguez brothers.

"Señor Sanchez?"

"What?" He didn't mean to growl as loudly as he did but the three men jumped.

"We uh, wanted to help." Pepe held up a shovel. "Grandma Sanchez told us and-"

"And what?" Carlos tightened his grip on the shovel.

"He was our friend Señor." Pancho was wiping away tears.

"And now that María's actually alive-"

"What?" Carlos' shout cut through the air. "She's what?"

"She's alive. We don't know how sir we just-"

Carlos dropped the shovel and dove for his son. María had survived was it possible his son could as well?

But Manolo still didn't move, didn't breath, nothing.

"Why doesn't he wake up?" Pepe said.

"This is so weird man." Pancho said. "Not to mention that Posada already called that wedding and-"

"He did what?" Carlos stood. The three brothers screamed and tried to hide behind each other.

"Y-yeah, there's going to be a wedding for María-"

"My son is dead and they're planning a wedding? A damn wedding? That damn Posada." Carlos stomped toward the bridge. "He should be digging this grave. He and Joaquín both, with their bare hands. He almost lost his own daughter today and he dares ignore what else has happened today?"

"Sir please-"

"We know you're upset but-

One of the brother's grabbed his shoulder. Carlos whirled around and punched Pablo directly in the nose.

"You do not know." Carlos screamed as loud as he could. "Failing to protect both your wife and your child, having to bury them, you couldn't possibly know. And that man has the audacity to toss a celebration over it? To convince the town to ignore him? He's gone too far he's-"

The three brothers stared at him in fear, Pablo now bleeding from the nose.

Carlos relaxed his arms and let his shoulders fall.

"Your grief is no excuse to treat anyone like that."

"I would appreciate the help." He finally said as he made he way back to his shovel. "Thank you."

"He was such a good musician." Pancho started crying again. "And bull-fighter, and ladies man and-"

"Please." Carlos cut in. "Please don't talk right now."

The three brothers fell completely silent, the quietest he had ever heard them in his life. They helped him dig and dig as the clouds finally started to break apart.

They continued to stay silent as Carlos lifted Manolo's body once more and carried it.

When was the last time he had held Manolo like this?

What was even the sense in that question. This time was undoubtably the last.

That thought sent him to his knees again. The brothers aimed to help him but as he pressed his forehead against Manolo's and started to sob they froze.

One of them lightly strummed the guitar, but soon Carlos faded it out. All his mind could focus on now was the cold body in his arms.

"They'll write songs about you."

"And I will sing them."

If only he could.