Hiya folks! I'm here with a new series of fics. I'm currently doing Bad Things Happen Bingo, and this is one of the fics I wrote for it. If you're wondering about Neither Can You, no worries! It's currently being worked on, and I've been using a good tool to help me stay on track with my writing.

As this will be a oneshot collection, the title of each chapter will show the prompt and characters used. So if you're only interested in certain characters, check out the chapter titles!

I think that's about it. Here's the first fic:

Prompt: Crisis Catch-and-Carry

Characters: Héctor and Imelda, pre-movie

He was following her.

Imelda had come out into this part of the city to scout out a location for her zapateria. Right now she was still living with her parents, but one day the rest of her family was going to join her here. She hoped that wouldn't be soon—she wouldn't wish an early death on anyone, no matter how much she missed them—but the sooner she got her business established, the more comfortable her family would be when they joined her here. And the sooner she found a building she could use, the sooner she could set up shop.

But a certain ex-family member was making it very hard for her to focus right now.

Refusing to look back or even acknowledge his presence, Imelda kept her back straight, her shoulders stiff, and her head facing forward. If she ignored him, perhaps he would leave her alone.

Even with the noise of the people surrounding them—it was early evening, and there were plenty of people out shopping and chatting—she couldn't help but notice the grating clack, clack, clack of bones against cobblestone behind her.

A child she could understand, or even a teenager, but what sort of self-respecting adult walked around barefoot? Let alone someone in their—how old was he—mid forties, at the absolute youngest? It wasn't exactly easy to tell when they were all bones, but his stupid voice and the condition of that mop on his head told her that the years had been kind to him.

How wonderful for him.

She had to focus on her task and get home, but every time she stopped to see if a building was for sale or for rent, she could hear him stop, then quicken his pace to reach her. A few times she'd even glimpsed him reaching toward her, but she'd moved away immediately. While it would be easy to start a scene—to strike at him, immediately start yelling at him and grab the attention of everyone else around them—she reallydid not want to deal with him at all right now.

So she'd make it easy for him, and wait for him to give up.

Ten or so minutes into this, she thought she'd succeeded—she could no longer hear him following, and a cursory glance showed no sign of her ex anywhere, so she let her shoulders sag in relief. That had been simple enough.

Or perhaps too simple.

When she'd stopped at another potential building, running over the figures in her head (how long it would take her to earn the funds required to buy the building, if it would be large enough, if there were living quarters somewhere nearby), she heard it again.

Clack, clack, clack.

Ese idiota.

Imelda grit her teeth, picking up her pace to avoid the unwanted skeleton. He'd tried to catch her off-guard, and she'd nearly fallen for it.

This time, she would walk around some of the more crowded streets, hoping to lose him that way. It eventually worked—whether she'd actually lost him, or he'd backed off, or given up, she couldn't hear his footsteps any longer. Hoping this would be the last time she'd have to shake him off, she resumed her search for an available building.

Of course, that only went on for so long. Fifteen minutes later she heard the grating sound of bone against cobblestone once more, and knew that persistent fool was back to following her.

Thus continued the annoying game of back-and-forth. He at least allowed her some time to note the locations of some potential buildings—she'd give him that, but that was all she'd give him. After a few more instances of this—of her shaking off her pursuer for a time before he inevitably returned—Imelda was getting tired and frustrated.

Still, she really didn't want to cause a scene. While causing a scene would be more than enough to drive him away for good, it would also mean people around her asking her what was going on, possibly siding with him, maybe even calling the police… and she was not in the mood for any of that. But there was one other thing she could do—it wasn't ideal, but she'd be able to chase him off without drawing attention to herself.

Instead of taking a loop back around to the main streets, Imelda took another turn, heading to some of the less populated ones. There were still people here and there, mostly ones heading home from work, but she kept taking odd turns until she found herself in an empty street.

Clack… clack clack, clack…

His steps were far more uncertain now. Good.

Stopping, she put a hand to her chin, pretending to be in deep thought, and waited. And sure enough, out of the corner of her eye she saw him reaching out toward her dress.

Her shoe was off in an instant, and she swung it at his hand.

"Don't touch me!" Imelda spat, and Héctor yanked his hand away, yelping as though he'd been struck.

He hadn't—he'd pulled away fast enough—but his posture echoed that of a dog that had just been swatted on the nose. His shoulders were hunched, and his right arm was held close to his chest, his left hand gripping it protectively. In his right hand was a paper of some sort—likely whatever he'd been trying to slip into her apron pocket.

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?" she growled, pointing her shoe at him like a pistol. "You think I didn't notice you following me?"

"I-I…" Héctor's eyes were narrowed in a pained, guilty expression. "Imelda, lo siento, I-I just—"

"You just couldn't approach me normally like a decent human being?"

That made him pause, and he exhaled through his nasal cavity, straightening his spine. "Not if you're going to threaten to hit me every time I try to speak," he shot back.

"How do you expect me to respond when a strange man tries to grab me?" She reached down to replace her shoe, but never took her eyes off of him.

"Strange—? I-Imelda!" he cried, and she ignored the way his voice cracked. "I'm your husband!"

"A husband who left his wife alone with a child for fifty years." She swallowed, infuriated at the phantom feeling of her throat tightening. No, she wasn't going to get emotional over him. Not any emotion other than anger, anyway; she'd stopped crying over him years ago, and she wasn't about to start again now. "That's long enough to make you a stranger to anyone."

Now his anger and grief seemed to mix together as he took a step forward, fist curling around the paper. "I-I've been trying to tell you, Imelda, I wanted to come h-home—"

"That's what that letter says, isn't it?" she said, and he immediately stepped back, wide-eyed. "Don't look so shocked. Do you think I'd forgotten all the letters you wrote before? 'Don't worry, mi amor, I'll only be gone for a few more days.' 'I'm sorry, Imelda, the tour's been extended a few weeks.' 'I miss you so much, but it'll only be another month now.'"

Imelda had begun pacing without realizing it, and she didn't care to stop now. "I remember those letters, Héctor. Do you know why? Because I read them again and again to Coco, when she asked me when her papá was coming home, over and over—"

"I-Imelda—"

"And the more times I reread them, the more I realized you weren't coming home." Her voice was rough with grief, with the memory of her daughter's tears.

"Imelda—"

"What makes you think I'd want to read another one of those letters?!" She stopped pacing now to glare at him, and was even more infuriated to see that he kept looking from her, to something else, as though looking for a way to escape. "And now you're just trying to run away, again—"

Frantically he put a finger to his mouth—be quiet, stop talking.

"I will not stop talking, Héctor, not until you—"

There was a deafening noise in the distance behind her, like a hiss crossed with a ragged snarl.

Immediately she spun around, staring down the street at a hulking, glowing monstrosity that was now barreling toward her.

Something snagged her arm and began to drag her, and immediately her legs got to work at keeping pace. Fury burned in her chest when she realized just who had grabbed her, and she yanked her arm away. While part of her wanted to snap at Héctor to not touch her, this was not the time for fighting.

"What's wrong with that alebrije?!" she shouted over the loud scrabbling of claws against cobblestone behind her.

"Rogue," Héctor panted in reply. "It happens sometimes, no one knows why—"

"Why is it coming after us?"

"The shouting, maybe?!"

Now she wished she'd let Pepita follow her to the market. She hadn't known there was any danger of rogue spirit creatures—she'd only been here for a little over two months, and no one had spoken a word of such a thing.

Probably because they weren't expecting her to wander into a dangerous area in an attempt to lose her ex-husband—

Héctor grabbed arm again, and nearly pulled it out of its socket as he dove off to the side, into a narrow alley between two buildings. Imelda fell on top of him, but he was quick to scramble backward, still holding onto her. "¡Apúrate!" he hissed urgently, and she crawled after him on all fours.

Just in time, as the alebrije snapped its long muzzle right where she'd been lying, dribbling foam out of its mouth and into the dirt.

It was an enormous rat, or something like one—it seemed to bear fangs alongside the massive incisors, and had long whiskers like a catfish. While not as big as Pepita, it was still too big to fit its body into the alley, as much as it tried. It was scraping along the ground with its webbed feet and pink claws, wriggling its body, but its back end—which bore a large tail more closely resembling that of a fish of some sort—would not get through. Still it kept its head stretched out as far as it could, its glowing eyes casting a green light over Héctor and Imelda.

Looking past the ragged skeleton lying just beyond her, she found the other side of the alley to be blocked by a wall. They were trapped.

Potentially.

"Stay back," Héctor whispered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "It'll give up, eventually."

Imelda did not stay back. She was not about to sit in a cramped space for any amount of time with her ex-husband, alebrije or no alebrije.

Her boot was off, and it connected with the rat's nose before she could question herself.

Héctor shouted something, but Imelda heard none of it over the shriek of the enraged alebrije as its head swung off to one side, its purple nose flaring a bright pink at the impact. When it raised one of its webbed paws to rub at its nose, she swung her shoe again, striking the paw.

With another wild shriek, the monstrous rat began to scramble backward, spitting and snarling all the while. Imelda kept up the assault, not getting quite as many strikes in as the thing continued to back away. Héctor was still yelling somewhere behind her, but she ignored him, marching steadily forward until the beast was finally out of the alley. At that point it seemed to have regained its senses and lunged forward in an attempt to snap at Imelda, but she was prepared, and struck at its upper jaw.

This time a glowing yellow fang flew out of the alebrije's mouth, and it threw its head back with a chilling howl.

Wasting no time, Imelda shoved her boot back onto her foot and took off in the opposite direction, hoping the injury to the alebrije's paw would be enough to keep it behind her until she got away. She wished Pepita were here…

…Wait, Pepita!

Sticking her fingers in her mouth, Imelda gave a shrill whistle, looking around for any sign of her own alebrije. She could still hear the rogue creature snarling behind her, but not running after her, at least. Maybe it had given up—she wasn't sure if she'd broken any bones in its paw, or if the bones of an alebrije could even be broken, but it was her only hope until Pepita got here.

Just as she got past the next building, there was another shriek behind her, but it wasn't the alebrije's.

Risking a look over her shoulder, she found the rat pressing its good paw down over the foot of a certain skeleton, who was sprawled out on the ground and struggling to get back up. The alebrije lifted its paw, allowing Héctor to scramble for a moment, only to smack its paw down on his foot again. That horrible creature—was it toying with him?

"AGH—!" Héctor turned himself around (leaving his foot twisted backward, Imelda realized with a pang of disgust), sitting upright and pounding his fists against the alebrije's webbed paw. "Let me go, estúpido—!"

The alebrije snapped at his skull.

It missed, for Héctor had yanked backward just in time, but still managed to knock the skull off of Héctor's shoulders. He caught it, swiftly re-attaching it to his spine, and struggled to pull away with even more effort—this time succeeding, flying backward with an odd pop.

Imelda was impressed for a moment until she realized he'd left his foot behind. Idiota, how did he plan to run away now?

The alebrije seemed just as confused as it lifted its webbed paw away from the detached foot. In an instant, the foot flew back to reattach to Héctor's leg, and as he rose to his feet he gave a cry of triumph—

—that immediately turned into a cry of pain as he fell back on his face.

Idiota, just as she'd thought. Now where was Pepita…?! She gave another shrill whistle, hoping her own alebrije was close enough to hear. Yet she found herself continuing to look back to Héctor—to make sure that monster wasn't in danger of coming after her instead.

"No, nononono!" Héctor scrambled on his hands and knees, trying to get away from the giant rat, who, if it had been amused at all before, was significantly less amused now. "Get away!"

The alebrije was focused on Héctor, looking very much like it wanted to snap his spine in half and gnaw his bones down to nothing. All of its attention was on him, and it would be very, very easy for Imelda to get away unscathed—to keep running until it couldn't track her, or until Pepita finally came.

And yet before she realized it, she was halfway to the alebrije, charging at him with an angry shout: "Go away, you oversized mouse!"

She didn't take off her boot, this time stomping down on the monster's only good front paw. Héctor was staring at her, his gaze a mix of surprise, amazement, and, annoyingly, hope. But she ignored it for now, scooping up the skeleton and throwing him over her shoulder as she took off down the road.

"I-Imelda…!" he stammered, sounding very nearly on the verge of tears, and Imelda gritted her teeth.

"I can't have it on my conscience to leave someone for dead, unlike a certain no-good músico."

That shut him up quite effectively, at least for a few moments, giving her plenty of time to focus on the screeching and the constant thud thud thud of the beast behind her. Wondering how on earth it was still running on two injured legs, she spared a glance over her shoulder to find, to her dismay, the first paw she'd injured had already healed.

"Those things heal fast," Héctor remarked. It seemed the urgency of the situation had taken precedence over his emotions for now. "It's gonna catch up if we don't do something!"

Giving another shrill whistle, Imelda looked around the skies for any sign of Pepita—she must have been lounging about the courtyard at her parents' house, taking a late nap. Some mouser she'd become!

"There! There!" Héctor began flailing in her grip, and she nearly dropped him. "Left!"

Imelda automatically ran to her left, only to stop when she found herself faced with a building with boarded-up windows. There was no alley to cut through, no shortcut. "There's nothing here!"

"No, no, there's a hole there, toward the ground, see?" There was indeed a hole in the wall, far too small for any skeleton to fit through. "No one uses this building, and if we disconnect a bone or two, we can squeeze in—"

He couldn't be serious. "Absolutely not."

"No, I-I've done this before!" he said, which was less than reassuring. "We can hide in there until it goes away—"

"I am not tearing my body apart to hide with you!"

"It doesn't hurt, and you can put yourself—"

"No."

"IMELDA!" His voice was loud and hiked in pitch, making her pause. "Would you just listen to me for once—?!"

The alebrije was gaining speed behind her, and she did not care. "No."

"¿¡Por qué, Imelda?!"

"Because nothing good has ever, ever come from listening to the idiota músico that promised me the world, only to leave me alone in it." And she let go, shrugging him off of her shoulder and turning around as he fell to the ground. She'd gotten him out of danger, and she wanted nothing else to do with him.

"NO! STOP!" Behind her, Héctor was trying to lift himself to his feet, only to give another cry of pain.

Ignoring him, she pulled off her boot again, marching toward the oncoming, furious alebrije.

Her ex-husband was screaming behind her, the monster was howling in front of her, and whatever would happen next, she was ready for it.

Which included the ferocious roar that exploded in the skies over her head, and the sudden cacophony of color and sound that came from another creature's diving immediately in front of her and on top of the feral alebrije. Though her bones shook as she replaced her shoe, Imelda watched the ensuing fight calmly. This wasn't the first time she'd seen Pepita take care of a rat, after all.

Said rat's neck was in Pepita's jaws, and the jaguar swung it around like a ragdoll, barely managing to avoid hitting any nearby buildings. She then flew up into the air, wings straining against the added weight, before dropping her burden. With a dramatic mid-air spin and a strike from Pepita's tail, the rat sailed down the street, skidding until it crashed into a wall.

Finally it got up onto its legs and scrambled away, yelping all the while.

"Gracias, Pepita," Imelda breathed as her alebrije landed beside her.

The great cat purred, nudging her gently and licking her with her enormous tongue. In turn, Imelda ran her hand over the alebrije's fur, scratching her just behind the horns.

"Y… you're okay."

Immediately the warm scene was shattered. Imelda tensed, and Pepita stopped purring, her ears turning back.

Keeping a hand on Pepita's head, Imelda turned to face Héctor, who was finally upright and braced against a wall. In spite of the fact that he stood a good foot or so taller than her, he shrank under her gaze, looking between her and her alebrije.

"Yes," she said, and Héctor shivered. "I am."

He could no longer meet her eyes, and his gaze fell to the ground.

A tangible silence fell over the three before he finally muttered something, his voice barely above a whisper:

"Lo siento."

Taking a moment to look him over, Imelda eyed his injured foot, which he kept off the ground. There were no cracks in the bone, as far as she could tell—it was not a grave injury, and he would recover, but not as fast as the alebrije had. "Can you walk?"

Héctor looked away, seeming very interested in the paint peeling on the wall. He tried to lower his foot to the ground, but hissed sharply. "I can… make my way home," he said, a strained smile pulling at his mouth.

With a knowing look at Pepita, Imelda patted her alebrije on the shoulder.

Needing no more instruction, Pepita strode up to Héctor, who braced himself further against the wall, as though it would grant some form of protection. Of course, it did no such thing, and Pepita launched her head at him, mouth open wide.

Héctor screamed for a long while before realizing that Pepita was not biting down. Imelda might have been a little amused had this been a situation with any other person, but not with him. Crossing her arms, she watched as Pepita turned around, striding up to her with Héctor hanging from her mouth like a ragged cat toy.

Imelda stepped closer until she was a foot away from his face. Once he finally looked her in the eyes, she addressed him: "You do not approach me. You do not write me letters. You do not chase me into shady streets where some crazy alebrije tries to eat the both of us."

For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something, but he choked back his words, staring at the cobblestones below. "Sí, Imelda," he said instead.

Something caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, trying to smooth over the roughness in her voice. "…I suppose something good did come from your abandoning us."

He flinched at the word.

"You taught me something, Héctor." She waited until he looked at her again, and then: "I learned that I don't need you."

And she stepped back, nodding to Pepita, who ducked down before springing into the air.

"Pepita will take you home, and you can get your foot taken care of," she called after him. "And after that, don't come back."

Waiting until Pepita was a good distance away, Imelda drew in a shaking breath, scrubbing at her eye sockets with the heel of her hand. It was a stressful day, that was all. There was nothing else to cry over.

You don't cry over things you don't need.