It's been a long while since I last wrote something fanfic-related, but I'm happy to start with my newest obsession, Coco!
I still love Dude, That's My Ghost! and Robotboy a lot and would love to keep working on my fics for them, but Coco is just easier for me to work with since I have just one main source to work off of as opposed to multiple episodes. Not to mention I LOVE this movie's touching theme about family and just how GORGEOUS and emotionally powerful it is. I've watched it (and cried) so many times, I've lost count.
This is rated T and has that archived warning for suggestive themes, which is sexual assault/rape. None actually happens, though. It's just heavily implied.
Also, any Spanish stems from Google Translate and from a Spanish dictionary I own from when I took two years of it in high school. I've forgotten most of what I learned, so it's of no help to me.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to fave/follow and/or leave a comment, if you wish! Thank you!
Héctor Rivera anxiously drummed his fingers on the top of his hat as he sat inside the trolley car that was headed towards the Marigold Grand Central Station; worrying his bottom lip and bouncing his left leg as he willed the contraption to move faster.
The rest of the dead Riveras were out on their weekly trip to the market to get shop supplies for the Rivera Familia de Zapateros and groceries. His wife, Imelda, had left him to mind the business she started up almost a century ago so he had been the one who answered the phone when it rang. Believing it was the usual call-in for an order of shoes, Héctor had happily answered it as professionally as he could. What he had heard instead was a slightly concerned voice asking if he was a member of the Rivera family.
While he no longer had any internal organs, Héctor had felt his phantom heart skip a beat, his grin instantly dropping from his face as he confirmed the information asked of him.
He knew that the only reason someone would call with that sort of query was if they worked in the Department of Family Reunions, an agency that dealt with matching recently deceased relatives with their families that already resided in the Land of the Dead.
That in of itself meant one thing: another member of the Rivera clan had recently passed.
Héctor's mind went blank as he processed this, momentarily forgetting he was still on the phone. The case worker brought him back to attention by telling him that he was needed at the department as soon as possible to pick up his relative, failing to disclose their identity, before hanging up and leaving Héctor frustrated. He grumbled a swear before hastily closing and locking up the shop then rushed off towards the trolley station.
Now here he was, thoughts racing as he tried thinking of who could be waiting for him at Reunions. His worst fear was that they were one of his six cherished great-great grandchildren, namely Miguel or the latest addition to the Riveras, Socorro.
It was the former whom Héctor had met, developed a tight bond with shortly thereafter, and then discovered his relation to on Día de los Muertos two years ago. That bond had only grown after that revelation, coupled with their shared passion for music and strong love for their family.
As for Socorro, well, she would only be 2-years old by now; not much younger than her namesake–his daughter, Coco–had been when Héctor had left his home in Santa Cecilia one final time 98 years ago to go on tour with his former performing partner and murderer, Ernesto de la Cruz, in order to try to provide for his family. Héctor shivered at the thought of two of his youngest great-great grandchildren meeting a horrible, premature death like he had.
It made the trip all the more distressing.
Finally, after what felt like eons to the 118 and-a-half year old skeleton, the gripman announced their arrival at the station. With a heavy, shaky sigh, Héctor replaced his hat and departed the trolley car. He headed directly through the doors that took him into the Department of Family Reunions, which was as busy as it usually was with hundreds of excited, nervous, and crying families meeting up with their newly-arrived loved ones.
It would have been a very heartwarming sight to family-oriented Héctor if he wasn't so tense about meeting his own. One of the case workers who weren't busy with clients noticed him right away, her expression taking on one of pity, and held out her hand to shake his as he approached her desk.
"Buenas tardes, Héctor. Thank you so much for–"
"Where are they?" Héctor abruptly interrupted, gripping the edge firmly. His brow ridges furrowed with seriousness, indicating he was not here for small-talk and that he wanted to get straight to business; his height aiding with the intimidating image he projected at that moment.
Whoever was waiting for him must be terrified and he didn't want them to be alone any longer than they probably already have been. The case worker realized this and quickly stood so she could lead him to a door that was labeled as "Waiting Room".
"She was brought in here an hour-and-a-half ago, Señor Rivera. She's still very much shaken up by this whole ordeal."
""She"?" Héctor echoed, looking at the case worker with wide eyes.
So whoever was behind this door was one of his female relatives but there were many of them he recollected from his past visits to the Land of the Living, leaving him still clueless.
His anxiety skyrocketed.
"Sí, Señor. I'll leave you two to get acquainted while I gather the paperwork for you to take her back home. Lo siento," the case worker added, giving Héctor's shoulder a compassionate pat before returning to her post to do what she had said she would do.
Héctor remained standing at the door for a few more moments, just staring blankly at the frosted window. Part of himself wanted to turn and walk away, dreading facing whoever was inside out of fear that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from falling apart if they were one of his great-great grandchildren.
He never had the pleasure of directly interacting with any of his living family while in their world so he couldn't gauge how they would feel upon finally meeting the man they had adamantly tried to forget–going as far as banning any form of music altogether–even if he was forgiven and had his reputation restored and photo placed upon the ofrenda.
What if a few of them still despised him for unintentionally abandoning Imelda and Coco? Miguel might have saved Héctor from his Final Death by getting his daughter to remember him enough to pass along his stories and revealing the shocking truth about Ernesto not only stealing his songs but also murdering him the night Héctor had tried to go home but despite all of this, he wasn't 100% sure if some of his descendants still held a grudge against him or not.
Héctor was certain about one thing, though: if his other granddaughter, Elena, was the one waiting for him, he would be getting a chancla to the cabeza.
Regardless of his fears, Héctor would never walk away from his family, not ever again. He had been forcibly distanced from them for so long–too long, in his opinion–and had only just been renewing his relationships with each member of his dead family. Héctor wouldn't make the same mistake twice; he'd never forgive himself if he did and he knew Imelda wouldn't, either. He didn't want to put her or Coco or the rest of his family through that kind of pain a second time.
Steeling his nerves to prepare himself, putting on a demeanor that he hoped looked welcoming and sincere, Héctor opened the door.
The room was of medium size and painted a calming, light blue with rows of cushioned seats aligning the walls on either side of him. Two, black leather couches sat in the center with a small, glass coffee table that had a few magazines and a vase of cempasúchils on it between them.
The carpet was a plain maroon color and the only other decorations were a few potted plants spotted about the room and various posters that displayed motivational sayings or random bits of information and landscape paintings on the walls. The florescent lights on the tiled ceiling cast a soft, warm yellow glow, giving the room a more peaceful feel to it.
There was only one other occupant in the room and she was young. Héctor's breath hitched as his throat clenched; his worst nightmare having just been confirmed right then and there. His smile wavered, making it hard to keep up his façade; his mind frantic.
"Nonono!"
"This can't be…"
"Why her?"
"What happened?"
"So young…"
Héctor's knees trembled but he locked them to keep from collapsing.
The girl standing at the far wall faced away from him, not realizing he was there as she seemed immersed in one of the posters. She couldn't have been more than 14-years old. Her left hand was tightly clutching her right arm, a habit done out of nervousness that was not unlike the same gesture Héctor and Miguel did when they were experiencing the same emotion. She was a bit taller than the last time Héctor had saw her, but her long, dark brown hair was still in a high ponytail with a pink, flower headband holding back her bangs.
Héctor could hear quiet sniffling and sobbing coming from the girl. He stepped over the threshold, silently shutting the door behind him, before slowly gravitating towards her; the old skeleton feeling the strong paternal instincts he's had since even before he became a father.
He so desperately wanted to do nothing more than immediately to wrap his great-great granddaughter in a pacifying embrace. It was in his nature to provide security and comfort to any child he saw who needed it, especially those of his own blood. He felt like that was a bad idea, however, so he had to squash that aspect of himself until the time was right.
"Rosa?" he called out softly, willing himself to remain strong as he continued closing the gap.
He winced when the teenager gasped lightly and jumped before she swiftly whirled around and pressed herself up against the wall. Her mahogany eyes–scleras reddened from crying–were wide in their sockets as she gawked him with sheer trepidation. She still wore the same red wire-framed glasses she had since she was 12 or younger; having inherited her near-sightedness from either Tío Óscar, Tío Felipe, or Tía Victoria.
Rosa's bones were pure white–a tell-tale sign of a fresh, well-remembered newcomer in the Land of the Dead. Her calavera markings consisted of yellow starbursts on her youthful, slightly angular cheekbones, light-green vines on her forehead, and a single, red rose on her chin. Small, orange dots curved across the tops of her eye-sockets, which had broad, pink petals–Héctor taking notice that they were very similar to Rosita's–encircling the edges.
With Rosa now facing him, Héctor could see that her pale-violet blouse and blue-jean capris were tattered and dirty in various places and that one of her Rivera-brand flats was missing. There were also disturbing signs that hinted to the nature of her untimely death.
Though his bones were dangerously close to giving out on him, especially after seeing what sort of state Rosa was in, Héctor had to swallow his rage so he could remain as calm and collected as he could for his precious nieta.
Rosa looked terrified enough as it was so him being angry upon introduction would make for a poor first impression. She had only just begun to hear positive stories about her great-great grandfather and he was fervent in making sure he lived up to them.
Héctor had been allowed to only watch and listen to Rosa beautifully play her violin alongside her older brother, Abel, on the accordion and Miguel on Héctor's guitar the first Día de los Muertos he was able to cross the Marigold Bridge. He had also managed to catch glimpses of her social life as she laughed and played with her younger twin brothers, Manny and Benny, or her group of friends. It made him really want to get to know the rest of his great-great grandchildren better, knowing it would, hopefully, not be for a long, long time.
Now that Rosa was finally here, albeit through whatever tragic hand fate had dealt her, he would get that chance. Still, it hurt him immensely that she was taken from her life before she could experience it to the fullest.
Rosa remained against the wall but was now staring quizzically at the Héctor, who had stopped mere feet from her. She looked like she was trying to place a face to his appearance.
She took in his signature straw hat, patched up purple, sleeveless mariachi vest, red neck tie, brown-pinstriped slacks that were held up by a pair of suspenders and a rope belt with a pouch hanging down his right hip, and wingtips.
The only existing photo of Héctor back in the Land of the Living was the one of him in his mariachi suit with his memorable white, gold-toothed skull guitar standing behind Imelda and a toddler Coco. Héctor presumed Rosa wouldn't be able to tell that he and his living self were one in the same but before he could help her out, she spoke.
"You're Papá Héctor, aren't you?" she inquired, her tone quiet enough to still show her apprehension but loud enough to be heard.
Héctor's jaw dropped open in shock, just barely keeping his eyeballs from dropping into it. If it had unnerved Miguel when he accidentally allowed that to happen the first time they had met, then it was bound to do the same–or worse–to Rosa. He quickly composed himself and nodded, a small, relieved smile breaking across his face.
"Sí, I-I am! How did you know?"
"Miguel talked about you, going into great detail about your appearance," Rosa muttered, giving a tiny shrug. "I guess he really wanted to make sure you weren't to be nearly forgotten again."
Héctor smirked fondly, his heart swelling with more love for his great-great grandson, chuckling. "Aye, that sounds like my chamaco, alright."
The room then fell into an awkward silence. Rosa looked away from him, choosing to stare off to the side at nothing in particular. She resumed her nervous gesture as Héctor stared at her with sad eyes.
The impulse to hug her was growing, but he had to refrain from doing so for he wasn't sure how she'd respond to someone who probably seemed like a stranger to her suddenly hugging her, even if they were family. So he opted for carefully moving away to sit down on one of the couches, smiling warmly as Rosa sat across from him on the other one, still not meeting his gaze.
After five placid minutes, Héctor decided to break the ice.
"What happened, Rosa?" he questioned gently, feeling like it might be best to get the hard things out of the way first.
Rosa flinched sharply, her face scrunching up as she bit her bottom lip. She began blinking rapidly. Héctor realized that she was suppressing herself from crying and that he had accidentally hit a sensitive nerve.
Whatever–or whoever–caused her death was certainly unpleasant and traumatic. He quashed another wave of anger at the source of her pain, though his fists clenched tightly.
"I-I…" Rosa stammered, her voice trembling as unwanted memories of her final moments of life flowed into her mind.
She groaned and gripped her skull, fingers digging into her hair, as tears spilled from her eyes. She bent forward. "I-I can't tell you. It hurts so much to think about...the parts I can remember. I feel like I'm missing some pieces."
Héctor put his worries about personal space aside as he hurriedly transferred himself beside Rosa, gathering his now sobbing great-great granddaughter into his arms in a tender embrace.
Rosa froze under his grip; her fight-or-flight response made her want to shove Héctor away and run out of the room but his gentle, fatherly hold on her was just so solacing...unlike the harsh grasp of bruising hands on her arms that she vividly recalled with nightmarish detail.
Rosa shuddered violently and sunk into Héctor's chest, seeking safety in him. She felt his arms tighten around her. She only knew of her great-great grandfather from her great-grandma Coco's tales about him that she had told shortly before she had passed.
She had said that he was the most nurturing, affectionate father who had cared so much for her and her mamá; his voice soothing enough to wash away any pain or fears she had. He had even wrote her a special song that he sung to her every night–the same one that Rosa remembered Miguel singing to Mamá Coco that allowed her to regain her dissipating memories of Héctor.
While Héctor had sounded very kind and caring in these stories, Rosa still had her reservations about whether he would be the same way towards her whenever they had met. Miguel had first met him when he was a lying, shifty con-man who had wanted to use him to carry his photo back to the Land of the Living since he was unable to cross the bridge due to not having one on the Rivera's ofrenda.
Miguel had said that he was like that only because he just wanted to see Coco again before he was completely forgotten. While Rosa knew he had changed drastically after he and Miguel had discovered their secret relation to each other, showing his true colors, she couldn't help but feel extremely weary of him when he had first come through that door.
However after just a short exchange of words and with Héctor giving her the same, endearing affection her own papá did when she was upset or simply felt like it because he loved his bebita so much, Rosa's worries about her long-lost relative quickly diminished. Her weeping and sniffling persisted as she clutched Héctor's vest.
"Shh, estas bien, mija. Shh." Héctor whispered placatingly, stroking Rosa's hair and back simultaneously. He rested his face atop her scalp, pressing his bony lips to it in a skeletal kiss. "It'll be alright. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. What matters more is that you're safe and we are going to care for you from now on."
Héctor's calming voice was slowly relaxing Rosa. He could feel her tremors lessen and counted his lucky stars for being able to ease her troubles.
Rosa sniffled, pushing away a bit to look up at him, confused. She shifted her glasses up to wipe her eyes with her palm. ""We"?"
Héctor nodded, giving her a serene smile, using his thumb to brush away some stray tears. "The rest of your family on your ofrenda is here as well, gatita. There's your Mamá Imelda and Mamá Coco, Tía Victoria and Tía Rosita, Tío Óscar and Tío Felipe, and Papá Julio!"
"Wow, Miguel wasn't lying when he said that you all really were out there and that this world isn't a made-up place." Rosa said, bewildered that her annoying kid cousin was telling the truth the whole time, making Héctor laugh. He patted Rosa's head gingerly.
"Victoria told me that Miguel thought the same thing when he got himself cursed. She also said that he thought vitamins didn't exist, either."
"Seriously?" Rosa asked, raising a disbelieving brow ridge. She scoffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Mi primo es un idiota."
Her face became pained once more at the memory of Miguel; his rounded face and that one-dimpled smile he was so very proud of clear as crystal in her mind. Sure he could be a huge pain, sometimes, and they enjoyed teasing each other to no end but she still loved him as much as he loved her. They just had their own special way of showing that affection.
Rosa bit back another urge to cry, feeling like she's done enough of that since she first awoke dead on the Marigold Bridge and then was taken through the gates for Arrivals before being carted to the Department of Family Reunions. Héctor figured she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
The case worker's earlier words to him about Rosa being shaken up by what happened to her rang through his mind. He knew that she was far from done shedding tears, unfortunately, but he was determined to be there each time she broke down. She didn't need to shoulder this grief alone.
She shouldn't have to.
She was still a kid and all of this was just too much for her to handle by herself. Héctor would be obliged to help shoulder her pain as much as he could, no matter how long it took. He had no doubt that his family would do the same thing. It made him all the more proud to be a Rivera.
Héctor placed a reassuring hand upon Rosa's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Let's head home, shall we? You've had quite the day, niña, and need the rest. Whatever is troubling you we can discuss later, but only if you want to," he added with firm clarification. "No one is forcing you, though. This is a new experience for you and the Land of the Dead can be overwhelming to new arrivals, but your familia is here and we will do our best to make sure you are well loved and provided for." Héctor vowed, pulling Rosa into another hug in which she gladly returned, letting out a shaky laugh.
"I suppose hugs are also a thing for the Riveras here, aren't they?"
"You bet, chamaca! I should warn you in advance that Tía Rosita is infamous for her bear hugs!"
"So that's who Papá gets it from," Rosa giggled, the tension and pain melting away, even just temporarily.
Her giggles were music to Héctor's non-existent ears. He made it a goal to make her laugh everyday and show her as much fun as possible if it would help her transition into the Land of the Dead go along smoother and for her mind to be distracted from her disconcerting thoughts until she was fully ready to share the gruesome details of her death.
He wouldn't press her, of course, and neither would the any of the other dead Riveras. If she didn't want to ever speak of whatever happened to her again, even if 200 years passed, then that was her decision. Héctor would just have to be ready to listen for when she was.
Héctor broke the hug, giving Rosa a quick peck on the forehead, before standing up from the couch. He cracked his spine by making the individual vertebra twist around consecutively, glancing at his great-great granddaughter over his shoulder to see her reaction.
He grinned broadly when she let out a little laugh, covering her mouth; her smile reaching her eyes, making them squint. Héctor's heart fluttered at the pure sight.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his little Rosa was much like Rosita in the way they laughed. He pondered if she had been named after her great-great-aunt and made a note to ask his daughter-in-law about it whenever he had the chance.
After putting on that little show, Héctor turned to face Rosa, bowing slightly in a gentlemanly way. Folding his other one behind his back, he extended a hand out to her, inviting her to take it so he could help her up.
Rosa giggled once more and gratefully accepted it, allowing her silly tatarabuelo to pull her to her feet. Héctor kissed the back of Rosa's hand then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side with a gentle squeeze before leading her back out into the main area of the Department of Family Reunions to take care of the waiting paperwork he wasn't looking forward to filling out.
I've been wanting to see Papá Héctor have interactions with his other great-great grandchildren. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miguel but I just thought this would be a nice change. I chose Rosa because she's my favorite out of Miguel's cousins.
Feel free to make any suggestions or point out any errors! :)