See the end for author's notes.

"Has every ship gone sailing?
Has every heart gone blue?
Have all the songs been written?
Oh, I just need one to get through to you…"

Part III

Héctor shot his distant relative a frightened, questioning look.

"That's Mama," Miguel hissed softly, "We have to hide you!"

"Ay, chamaco—but, uh, where?" Héctor looked around, unconvinced of any actual hiding places. Under the bed? About a good idea as in it! Besides, he was doubtful his feet wouldn't stick out. He darted toward the window but soon scratched that idea out too.

"Ah, uh, quick!" Miguel started ushering the dead man into his small, modest closet.

Héctor resisted at first. Or, he tried to. But soon he found himself sandwiched into the tight, tall space. It was about as wide as himself, no doubt because there was another closet in the room next to Miguel's. The Rivera's seemed to live comfortably, so why couldn't they afford a bigger closet?! Héctor shot a deadpan glare at the door as Miguel closed him in. Well this wasn't entirely going to plan. The fact he didn't have one originally was besides the point.

Inclining his skull and lifting his straw hat allowed Héctor to hear some of the conversation going on outside. He didn't hear the door open but did hear someone walking softly into it. The woman's voice was plenty loving and amused.

"Cariño, what are you doing in here? You're not even dressed yet! Hurry, hurry, abuelita has almost finished breakfast!"

"Sí, Mama, I'm sorry," Miguel could be heard squeaking. "I was just practicing, I, I couldn't sleep!"

"Mhm…and who were you talking to?"

"Uh, Dante?"

"You know how your abuelita feels about Dante in the house, cariño."

"I know, that's why I got him out of here when you came in. I'm sorry!"

Héctor racked his skull for his family tree as the two talked. The grandmother to Miguel would be…why, por supuesto! Coco's daughter! Elena, wasn't it? Why, she would be his granddaughter! Héctor wanted to meet her immediately, hug her and have her tell him her whole life, all he had missed and hadn't gotten to see. He wanted to apologize too, if she'd let him…

It took all Héctor's self-control to not burst from the closet right there—but he refrained, somehow. Bone fingers clenched the knob, but he was careful not to rattle it or turn it. He waited for Miguel's mother (his great-granddaughter! Ay caramba, what a wonderful family he had to meet!) to leave. And now he could see them all in the flesh! If this was a Curse of some kind, he might gladly live his Afterlife cursed. So far it felt like a wonderful dream, though he did worry about his family back in the Land of the Dead. Well, he wasn't too worried about Imelda, she could certainly hold her own. She was probably relishing the freedom she had now without Héctor following her around like the love-struck puppy he still was.

The door opened suddenly, letting in the shafts of morning light and making Héctor blink to adjust his eyes. Mama was gone, and the door was shut once more.

"Okay, you can come out now." Miguel was keeping his voice much lower, as if he feared his Mama was just outside the door listening in.

"I can't wait to meet the rest of our family!" Héctor said, almost forgetting to speak in a hushed, if excited whisper. He bent down so Miguel could hear him better, lurching his skeletal frame from the closet. Miguel fetched his hoodie from where it was smashed into the wall from Héctor's frame and quickly hauled it on.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Papa Héctor," Miguel muttered with a wince.

"Ey? Why not, chamaco? I'm here aren't I? You can see me, can't you? I'll bet they can too!" He grabbed Camila once more, slinging the strap round his back. The familiar weight of his guitar was comforting, and it brought back some memories that he quickly pushed away. He didn't want to deal with them just yet—but he also wanted his trusty guitar when he met the family. He hoped Miguel didn't mind, and from the look on the kid's face, he didn't seem to. Héctor bet he just wanted to hear more music.

"Weeelll, for one thing, I'm not sure you won't scare anyone." Miguel saw Héctor's confused, hurt little frown and quickly rambled on.

"N-not that you're scary! It's just—you're a skeleton…and you're tall, and I'm just not sure you wanna meet abuelita just yet—"

"Ey, Miguel, you worry too much! I'll bet I look just like a calaca, right?" He struck a cheerful, open armed pose, smiling down at the kid.

"I guess you do…" Miguel rubbed the back of his neck, "Just, just try and wait until after I get home from school, okay Papa?"

Héctor's charming smile dropped, but he would be lying if hearing Miguel call him that didn't weaken his resolve, and want to give the kid whatever it was Miguel wanted. It was the same warm blossoming feeling in his ribcage he got when Coco called him that, and he couldn't help but offer a reassuring smile at the kid. Imelda always warned him about spoiling baby Coco too much, but thankfully being dirt poor kept a lot of his lavishing in check.

"Ay gordito, if that's what you wanna do. We'll do it your way." Héctor promised, resting his bony hands on his hips.

"Thank you," Miguel breathed, shoulder slumping in relief. "I'll be home around two, then we can figure out how to introduce you without, uh, y'know."

"Anyone screaming?" Héctor snorted in amusement. He wandered back to the kid's desk and dropped gracelessly into the seat, hauling Camila round to his lap.

"Or throwing their chancla at you. Abuelita can aim to kill. Just make sure no one hears you playing either!" Miguel warned as he searched about for his sneakers.

Héctor paused, but chuckled as he twanged Camila's strings softly. "Well, she got that from your Mama Imelda, and trust me. I can dodge her swings plenty. Good to know it's hereditary."

That did make Miguel lighten up and laugh a little. He finished sweeping his homework into his backpack and started for the door. He paused before the frame though, and Héctor noticed.

"Alright there, gordito?" The skeleton called, furrowing his brow as Miguel turned and raced back to him. But Miguel only tackled Héctor in a quick, brief hug.

"See you later, Papa Héctor," Miguel muttered shyly, and Héctor understood.

"I'll be here when you get back, chamaco. Really." That was important for the kid to remember, Héctor could tell. Miguel must have been really spooked that Héctor had gone through Final Death, it seemed…

"You really do worry too much…" The whole family—the whole world it felt like—was remembering Héctor now. He was solid as ever, even if he wasn't in the Land of the Dead like he was supposed to be.

"Fill that lil cabeza a'yours up with lots of learnin." Héctor told the kid as Miguel pulled back, giving him a wet snort.

"Sí Papa Héctor, bye,"

"Adiós, gordito," Héctor said fondly as the door closed. There was no lock of course, but Héctor made sure Miguel's closet door was wide open. If anyone came in (unlikely, he assumed, as Miguel hadn't warned him) then he could easily make it to the closet before anyone spotted him. Héctor strummed his guitar a bit, mulling over what on earth he was going to do for the next nine hours.

He couldn't hear much of the hustle and bustle of the Rivera homestead, but he could hear outside into the compound well enough. Breakfast seemed to be over all at once, and Héctor could hear young voices fading off as the children headed out the big doors to the school in town. That left only the adults, and Héctor looked around Miguel's room, partly for something to play with that wouldn't cause so much noise, and partly from interest.

Héctor could hear the sounds of shoes being made, and decided one of the many buildings he slunk past this morning must have been the workshop.

A quick nap put the sun high above them, so that when the skeleton man peeked out again, he could hardly see the shadows on the dry, barren ground. It was high noon, most likely, but that left two hours still for Héctor to kill. He gave a groan of frustration, pacing the room lazily until a new noise caught his attention.

"…going to put her down for a nap, she just won't sleep in the shop with all the noise…" it was the same voice Héctor heard earlier.

"Good idea, mi corazón," came a deeper, and much more distant sounding voice. Héctor could picture that this man, likely a husband, was down the hall.

Then Héctor could hear Miguel's mother passing the door, cooing and shushing the sounds of a fussing bambino. A door opened, then closed. Ten minutes later the crying had stopped, and the door opened and closed again, softly.

By all accounts, her plan seemed to have worked. Héctor had just sat back down on Miguel's bed to continue his siesta when he picked up the soft disturbances of one distressed little child. Héctor was sure Miguel's mother would be back to check on the little thing sooner rather than later, or someone else in the family would.

But everyone was clearly busy in the workshop, perhaps no one could get away quickly?

The crying stayed gentle and weak, as if the child had no real heart in it, or perhaps was simply overtired. Now, Héctor was sure no one would hear the little thing. And he couldn't stand to hear that crying, it was breaking his heart...well, metaphorically speaking.

Daringly, Héctor peeked outside of Miguel's room. He tiptoed his way down the hall.

While the chapters aren't necessarily long, there's going to be a good handful. I think nine or ten, if I can manage it. Hopefully ten, because I like round numbers. I forgot to do this last time, but a HUGE thank you to the wonderful reviews I've gotten so far! They're very much appreciated and cherished!