Chapter 9: A Crying, Burning Liar

A/N: This wasn't supposed to be that long of a chapter how did it end up being almost 5,000 words?! It's the longest chapter for this fic!


Miguel was having no luck finding his great, great grandfather at the party. He had spent a good time wandering around the mansion outside, asking various guests if they had seen him while they watched the fireworks, none had. Maybe he should the entrance again? Maybe Papá Héctor couldn't make it in?

But once Miguel left, he wouldn't be able to sneak in a second time. He sighed and ran back into the mansion, perhaps Papá Héctor was somewhere in one of the rooms, looking for him as well. Perhaps they just passed each other.

He hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

Miguel made his way to the second level, zipping from one room to the next, but finding most of them void of anyone. The party was coming to an end and Miguel remembered Ernesto mentioning that they would move to the other end of town for the Sunrise Spectacular soon, he was running out of time. Miguel slipped into one of the stairwells to head back down to the main ballroom. Maybe he could find Ernesto again and try to get some more hel-

"-they never once saw you. Imelda never saw you!"

Miguel stopped where he was in the stairwell. That was Papá Héctor, but he sounded so… angry. Miguel hadn't heard him use such a sharp tone before.

"L-look, I'm not mad at you-" Papá Héctor said, softer this time.

"You're not?"

It was Ernesto. They were talking to each other, alone probably. The way they spoke to each other suggested that it was a conversation that could only be heard in secret, a way that adults talked to each other when they thought kids weren't listening. Miguel couldn't help but be curious, what were they talking about that made Papá Héctor so angry? He took silent steps down to get closer, stopping at a spot where he was still unable to see them when he peeked around but could now hear them clearly.

"N-no, I just… I just want to know why. Why you did everything you did over the years," Papá Héctor said, his voice no longer sharp, more of a plea. What were they talking about? "Why you played my songs…"

Played his songs? What did Papá Héctor mean by that?

"I wanted to keep a part of you alive," Ernesto answered.

Papá Héctor let out a quiet laugh, but something about it is off, Miguel can't quite figure out how, but it is, "By not telling anyone that they were my songs? Oh how generous," He said, his tone sarcastic. Suspicion began to climb through Miguel, "Ernesto de la Cruz wrote all his own songs!" Papá Héctor said, like he was imitating someone. Wait- "W-why didn't you tell anyone that I wrote the songs?" -What?- "Why didn't you tell anyone about me? Miguel, my own great, great grandson, is probably one of your biggest fans and he didn't even know my name until two years ago!"

Miguel frowned. Papá Héctor wrote de la Cruz's songs? That's crazy… De la Cruz wrote all his own songs. But he can't get over the fact that in that moment the voice in his head didn't sound his own, but exactly like the one Papá Héctor had put on.

"Well why didn't you tell him?" Ernesto replies, there's an edge to his voice.

Miguel leaned closer to hear the answer, his curiosity peaked at this little revelation. Ernesto didn't deny it, and if it was just the two of them then he must have been telling the truth. Why didn't Papá Héctor say anything? Why didn't he tell Miguel? There wasn't an immediate response from Papá Héctor, and it bothered Miguel, did he somehow know that he was listening in on their conversation?

"That's not the point," He mumbled, and Miguel had to restrain himself from saying anything.

"Oh isn't it?" Ernesto replied, there's an angry tone creeping into his voice, "You seem to be really bothered this mistruth that you, yourself are continuing to perpetuate."

"For your own integrity!" Papá Héctor almost growled out, Miguel flinched in response.

"My integri-"

"-But let's try something else on for size, huh?" Papá Héctor continued, not giving Ernesto a moment to talk. He sounded so angry, so hurt, fear crept through Miguel as he listened, "An ugly truth that I haven't been able to wrap my head around for nearly 70 years! Tell me if you recognize this: "Senor de la Cruz has made explicit requests not to see you"," Again he sounds like he's imitating someone, was that something someone actually said to Papá Héctor? It doesn't match up with what Ernesto said at all, "Care to explain that one?! Because I am more than happy to listen!"

Yes, yes, please explain. Miguel mentally urged as he leaned closer.

But Ernesto didn't make a sound, at least not one that Miguel could hear. He didn't like what all this was implying, Ernesto actually tried to avoid Papá Héctor? They weren't as close friends as he thought? Suddenly all the little inconsistencies Miguel noticed with Papá Héctor throughout the night were making sense in an entirely different way. He wasn't sure if he liked this new information.

"What happened to us?" Papá Héctor asked. His voice cracked as he did, he was still angry, but it was clouded by so much hurt. Miguel put his hand over his chest, he knew for sure that he did not like hearing Papá Héctor like this, "What happened to us Ernesto? We were best friends, like brothers. And then suddenly it only takes three years for me to hear my own words stolen? It only takes twenty years for you to drop me off like I was nothing? It only takes that long for us to suddenly be unrecognizable?" Miguel swore his heart broke with every question, Ernesto really did all that to Papá Héctor? How could he? And why? "The night I left, the night I died, you said you would move heaven and Earth for your amigo," –Wait a minute- "What happened to that? I feel like I've been given nothing but hell! And I don't even know why."

Miguel's throat catches. Heaven and Earth? Like in the de la Cruz movie? He took a sharp breath, he didn't like what this is implying, he doesn't like it one bit. He couldn't keep silent anymore, the questions practically bursting from him.

"H-heaven and Earth?" He squawked out.

Papá Héctor and Ernesto both gasped, Miguel moved down the stairwell, making his steps loud. He didn't have to go far before he can see Ernesto, a few more steps and he can see Papá Héctor standing across from him, hands clenched at his sides and shoulders tense, but they quickly relaxed when he saw Miguel.

"M'ijo!" Papá Héctor cried out, running over to Miguel and scooping him into a hug before he could reach the bottom of the stairs.

Distracted for the moment, Miguel felt a tiny bubble of laughter flow through him as he returned the hug. He's so relieved to see Papá Héctor, no longer having to worry if he would be able to get back to the Land of the Living. He barely caught Ernesto watching their cheerful reunion without emotion as Papá Héctor put Miguel down and grabbed his face.

"M'ijo I was so worried! I didn't know where you went, a-and I knew Imelda hadn't managed to send you back yet, but oh, I'm so glad you're here!" The words tumbled out of Papá Héctor's mouth in a mess, but Miguel could still understand him.

"I'm sorry, I tried to find you, but Mamá Imelda's alebrije took me really far, and I got lost," Miguel explained.

"It's okay, I'm so glad you're safe m'ijo," Papá Héctor said, wrapping him in another quick hug, "I-I need to send you back to the Land of the Living."

He reached up, pulling the flower from his hat and the wedding picture from his coat pocket. Miguel only just noticed how messy he looked when compared to earlier, with his clothes dirtied and his coat shoulder torn, what happened to him?

He didn't have a moment to dwell on it as Ernesto's hand suddenly reached out and grabbed the photo, he looked over it with an unreadable expression and Miguel remembered why he revealed himself in the first place.

"You said "heaven and Earth"?" He asked once again, "Just like the movie?"

"What?" Papá Héctor asked.

"That's... Don Hidalgo's toast," Miguel explained, but he's starting to feel sick from the implications at the parallels, it could just be a coincidence, right? "From the de la Cruz movie, El Camino a Casa."

Papá Héctor softly shook his head, "I, I was talking about my real life, m'ijo."

"No, it's in there. Come on," Miguel took Papá Héctor's hand and pulled him out of the stair well and into the ballroom where the movie projectors still played little clips of de la Cruz movies, trying to ignore the sick feeling crawling through him.

Ernesto followed them out into the ballroom, still half focused on the photo in his hands. There's no one left in the room now. Miguel looked from projector to projector, trying to find one that was playing the scene he was thinking about, remembering how he and Ernesto had watched it together just earlier during the party, Ernesto had bragged about doing his own stunts and Miguel had been so dazzled at hearing it. That feeling was long gone now.

"There," Miguel said, pointing up towards a projector, Papá Héctor took a step towards it, watching in curiosity.

"This calls for a toast! Haha!" The voice of "Don Hidalgo" on the screen echoed throughout the ballroom as if it was the only one there, "I would move heaven and Earth for you, mi amigo."

Heaven and Earth, just like what Papá Héctor said.

"…But in the movie, Don Hidalgo poisons the drink," He explained, looking between the screen and Papá Héctor's reaction, there's recognition in his eyes.

"Salud!" The glasses clanked together, and the characters drank, but Ernesto dramatically spat out his drink and grabbed his throat, "Poison!" He exclaimed.

Papá Héctor's eyes widened as he took a step back. Miguel waited for him to say something, to explain what was going on or even what he was thinking, as his own barely there stomach did flip flops.

"That night, Miguel," He said, looking at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper, "The night I left, Ernesto and I, we'd been performing on the road for months."

He turned towards Ernesto as he watched them, Miguel now feeling uncomfortable at his still unreadable expression. Papá Héctor stared straight at Ernesto, but something about his eyes, they were out of focus, like they weren't actually seeing him. Just a Memory.

"I got home sick, and packed up my songs," He took a gulp of air, "Ernesto tried to stop me, "You want to give up now? When we're this close to achieving our dream?"," He said, imitating Ernesto's voice. He hadn't mentioned this when he told the story of how he died to Miguel before, "But it was your dream, it was always your dream," There's the slightest moment of clarity as he looked at Ernesto and addressed him directly, but he still couldn't "see" Ernesto as he was right then, "You told me you couldn't continue without my songs and I told you I was going home, you could hate me if you wanted. I wasn't going to change my mind. But I never wanted you to hate me, I never wanted us to fight, you were my best friend. And I thought that you felt the same with how quickly you calmed down. "Oh I could never hate you. If you must go, then I'm sending you off with a toast!"And you poured us a couple of shots."

The sick feeling that was lurking in Miguel increased tenfold as he recognized where the story was going.

""To our friendship," you said, "I would move heaven and Earth for you, mi amigo," and we drank. You walked me to the train station, but I felt a pain in my stomach, I thought it must had been something I ate…" His voice drops low "Or, something I… drank. …I woke up, dead."

Miguel can barely keep his hands from shaking, this meant, this mean that, de la Cruz poisoned Papá Héctor…

Papá Héctor finally blinked at the end of his story, his eyes coming into focus as he could finally see de la Cruz once again.

"You… poisoned me," He said, and the temperature in the room dropped.

"You're, confusing movies with reality, Héctor," De la Cruz replied smoothly, too smoothly now, Miguel realized.

But Papá Héctor couldn't quite hear him yet, "All this time, I thought it was just bad luck." He continued, "I never thought that you might have…" His breathing becomes ragged as he clenched his fists once again, the flower stem in his hand bending at the pressure, "That you…"

Miguel jumped back when Papá Héctor suddenly let out a scream, dropping the flower and lunging at de la Cruz. They slammed against the wall hard.

"How could you?!" He yelled, trying to throw a punch at de la Cruz's face, he barely caught it before it made impact. Miguel stood still, watching with wide, scared eyes as he didn't know what to do, "You took everything away from me!"

Ernesto cried out for his security and they burst from the doors at a moments notice, rushing past Miguel and grabbing Papá Héctor.

"I just wanted to go back home!" He yelled as the guards ripped him off of de la Cruz and began to drag him away.

"H-Hey! What are you doing?! Stop it!" Miguel yelled. He suddenly found his legs and ran towards de la Cruz, pushing into him and almost knocking his over from the force, "Stop it! Let him go!"

De la Cruz called for his security once again, shoving Miguel away as two more guards burst from the doors and came charging after him. Miguel quickly started running to avoid being caught.

"Miguel!" Papá Héctor cried out as he watched them. He's taken through the doors of a stairwell and out of the room, Miguel can barely hear his shouts.

"Papá Héctor!" He yelled back, changing his direction to head to where they dragged him away while still trying to avoid the guards chasing after him.

He slid as his redirected himself and the guards quickly caught up to him and grabbed him by the arms, lifting him off his feet.

"No! Stop it!" Miguel cried out as he struggled in their tight grips, but they're unaffected, "… How…How could you?!" He yelled at de la Cruz, who folded the photo up and tucked it into his jacket pocket, he glanced up at Miguel with cold, unfeeling eyes, "Héctor was your best friend!"

"…Like a brother," He confirmed, his voice low. He smiled, that sideways smile from before, but now it felt 100 times more sinister, "Success doesn't come for free Miguel, you have to be willing to do whatever it takes. …To, seize your moment," Horror rips through Miguel at the familiar line, "I know you understand," He wiped away his smile and look to the guards, "Take him away."

"No, no, no!" Miguel yelled out, no this couldn't be happening!

He's dragged into a stairwell that leads down, the doors slammed closed so he could no longer see de la Cruz's retreating form. Harsh and heavy breaths ragged through his form as he being to panic.

"Miguel?! Miguel?!" He could barely hear Papá Héctor's voice echo through the stairwell. He sounded so far away, where was he?

"Papá Héctor! Papá Héctor!" He yelled, but couldn't hear a response, he was too far, "Please, please! Y-you have to let me go. I-I need to go home, back to the Land of the Living! Please!"

The guards said nothing, simply staring ahead as they suddenly passed through another pair of doors, leading to the outside. Miguel struggled more, trying, trying to get out of their grip, but it was to no avail.

"Let me go!" He shouted, and they finally do.

Into a cenote.

He screams as he fell, down, down into the deep chasm until he hit water far colder than then that of the swimming pool. It engulfed him like icy pricks and he struggled to swim up to air with his weak, confused paddle. With a gasp, he broke the surface, shoving the hair out of his face and desperately searched for a surface or some kind of dry land.

To his left, a pile of rocks only just peeking their heads over the water. He swam over and crawled onto them, the cold of being out of the water hitting him hard and causing him to shiver. Miguel forced himself to stand.

"Hello!" He called, his voice echoing throughout the sinkhole, "Can anyone hear me? Please! Papá Héctor? Please anyone! I…I just want to go home…"

His voice trailed off and he slumped to the ground, there's no one out there. He was alone, so utterly alone. He felt small as he hunched over and stared at his hands, they're almost completely bone now. How could he have been so foolish, he should have just gone home when Papá Héctor first tried to send him back.

"Please," He mumbled to himself.

A rock shifted, Miguel gasped and stood up, turning to sound behind him.

"…Papá Héctor!" He cried out once he recognized the figure, he looked up at Miguel, his leg shaking as he stood and relief shining on his face.

"Miguel!" He cried back with a smile as Miguel ran over to him, almost knocking him over as he wrapped his great, great grandfather into a hug.

"Oh Papá Héctor I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry! You were right, I should have gone back home!" Miguel sobbed into his papá Héctor's ribs as he gently wrapped his arms around Miguel to return the embrace.

"Hey, hey m'ijo," Papá Héctor said softly, bringing a hand to run through Miguel's still wet hair. Miguel realized that he's alarmingly dry in comparison, did he hit the rocks on his way down? "It's okay Miguel, I've got you."

Miguel's breath's come in shallow as he desperately held onto Papá Héctor, terrified of somehow losing him again.

"It's okay Miguel, it's okay," He repeated gently until Miguel is able to calm down enough and loosen his hold.

Papá Héctor gently pushed him back to look over Miguel, but a horrifying golden light flickered through him and he fells backwards onto the rocks.

"P-papá Héctor!" Miguel cried out as he stumbled backwards, having suddenly lost the support he had to stand. There's a terrified look on Papá Héctor's face as he shakily looked down at his hands, "Wha… what's happening?"

But Miguel had seen this before, not too many hours earlier.

"I…I'm being forgotten," Papá Héctor confirmed.

"B…N-no! But I remember you!" Miguel pleaded, getting down on one knee to look him in the face, "I put up your photo, Mamá Coco told me your stories."

"…But you're not in the Land of the Living," Papá Héctor explained.

Miguel took in a sharp breath. He did this, this was his fault. He needed to go back, make this right while there was still time, but he didn't want to leave his papá Héctor here, all alone.

"I need to send you home," Papá Héctor said, reaching for his coat pocket, he stopped.

"…De la Cruz still has the photo," Miguel explained.

"It's… it's okay," He breathed out in response, "I just need to get you home, before it's too late."

"B-but, the ofrenda, I don't have another photo of you," Miguel said, "You won't be able to cross over."

"I won't be able to cross over either if you stuck here," He replied, "It's okay m'ijo, so long as you're home and safe, I'll be fine."

Papá Héctor reached up to where his hat should have been, but it's not there, it's on the ground next to him. He grabbed it quickly and turned it over, the flower was gone. That was right, he had dropped it during the fight.

"No, no," Papá Héctor whispered to himself in horror.

He began checking each of his pockets, the pouch on his hip, shaking out his jacket in hopes that a cempasuchil petal that had managed to stick to him would fall out, Miguel does the same. They check and check and look around at the rocks in the area, but there's none. Miguel had no way of going home. He was stuck here.

"Oh Miguel. What have I done?" Papá Héctor whispered in horror as he bowed over, curling into himself, "I-I'm so sorry, I can't send you home. I'm so, so sorry."

Miguel didn't know what to say, he wanted to reach out and tell Papá Héctor that it was okay. But he can't get over the terrifying realization that he was probably going to die soon, and with it, Papá Héctor would fade. Miguel would be left alone.

"I'm so sorry, I should have sent you home right away, how could I have been so selfish?" He mumbled, the last question sounded more like it was just for himself than Miguel, "I should have never left Santa Cecelia, I should have never left my family. I wish I could have told Coco that her papá was trying to come home, that he loved her so much."

He closed his eyes and choked, there was such finality in his voice, and it terrified Miguel. It terrified him to no end to hear his Papá Héctor talk like that. Was there truly nothing they could do? He looked up at the walls of the cenote, if they could just climb out… but the walls are too smooth, too mossy, too steep for them to do so. He heard another airy sob go through Papá Hector and looked down at him. There was nothing they could do, nothing but be there with each other for however long they could.

He shuffled over to Papá Héctor's side and wrapped him in a hug. Papá Hector uncurled himself so he could hold Miguel closer, grabbing his jacket with the same tight grip Miguel had on him just moment's ago, unintentionally squeezing some of the water out. He took a few shaky breaths before loosening his hold and slightly pulling away from the hug.

"I…I said I would sing you the song I wrote for Coco," His voice was no longer a wobbly whisper, and he conveniently left out the "before you go home" part of that agreement they had made, "So… just… listen, for a moment."

Miguel nodded and shifted so that he sat next to Papá Héctor, their arms still around each other in a side hug.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before finally going into the song.

Miguel has to restrain himself from gasping when he heard none other than "Remember me" sung out by his great, great grandfather, slow and gentle in a way that Miguel realized he had heard only a handful of times before.

He recalls a memory, one of his earliest memories; he was only 4 or 5 years old at the time. He had been dancing, spinning around to nothing in particular, just having fun, getting out his energy. Mamá Coco had been watching him at the time.

"Be careful," She had told him in that old voice of hers.

Of course, he thought, he was careful, until his legs caught on one another as he got too close to Mamá Coco's wheelchair and the shelf, trying to avoid running into them. He fell and slammed his head into one of the shelf's handles, right beside his eyebrow. It had cut him and he immediately began crying. Mamá Coco had scooped him up from where he fell, pulling him close to her in a comforting hug and humming to him as he cried and cried, rocking side to side. She had hummed "Remember Me", with the same gentleness and slowness that Papá Héctor was singing to him now.

His thumb rubbed over Miguel's shoulder, it was exactly the way Mamá Coco's thumb had rubbed his shoulder as she held him and waited for him to calm down, finally calling for his parents once he did. She had asked him to never dance again, telling a story of when she too had gotten hurt dancing, he agreed. It was one of the few family rules that he actually kept to, knowing that it would actually upset Mamá Coco unlike the music rule would, until tonight when he had danced onstage with Papá Héctor for "Poco Loco".

Miguel had always wondered why her version was so slow compared to de la Cruz's once he heard it a couple of years later, and now he knew, it was how Papá Héctor had sung it. Sung to someone he loved, Mamá Coco.

The last note of the song echoed and hung in the air as Papá Héctor partially opened his eyes. There's a heavy silence between them as they both ponder the song, Miguel remembered one of the things he wanted to ask Papá Héctor earlier when he was listening in on his and de la Cruz's talk.

"He… he stole your songs," Miguel said softly, wary of breaking the silence between them, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Papá Héctor peeked at him from the side of his eye, "I… I didn't know if you'd believe me."

Miguel wanted to say that of course he would believe him, but stopped, would he? He wasn't even sure about it before until de la Cruz confirmed it, he shook his head, "A-and, you didn't give him your guitar, did you?"

"No," He confirmed, "Ernesto stole that from me when I…"He pauses, when he was murdered, "When I died. I would have wanted it to go back to Imelda and Coco."

Miguel feels an anger burn through him at that, "He…he stole your guitar, he stole your songs, you should be the one the world remembers! Not de la Cruz."

"I didn't want to be remembered by the world," He said, turning to look Miguel in the eye, "Just by my family."

Miguel frowned, and now Papá Héctor couldn't even get that.

He sighed heavily, "I'm a pretty sorry excuse for a great, great grandpa."

"What?" Miguel asked, how could he say that, "No you're not, not you're not. You're a fantastic great, great grandpa! You're one of the only ones in the family who actually encouraged me to do what I love. You've been there for me even when I didn't know you were," He said in reference to the song he played last year, "And, I'm proud we're family," he jumped up, and shouts, "I'm proud to be his family!"

He runs to the water and kicks it with energy, letting out a loud, cheerful grito that echoed through the cenote. Not a second later and it's joined by another, deeper grito from behind him. Miguel turned around to find that Papá Héctor had stood up, and letting out his own grito.

"I'm proud to be his family!" He exclaimed.

Miguel felt a burst of joy go through him as they both let out a series of gritos, each louder then the next as if they're trying to one-up each other, but they're not, because they're family and they're together.

The gritos wane off, and the cenote slowly returned back to silence, and with it Miguel felt his mood slowly return to where it once was. They were still down here, still stuck, no one to find them.

But in the distance, a dog barked, it's quiet and Miguel almost didn't believe it was there, but he looked up and out the cenote anyways, trying to find a dog. The barking got louder, and then Miguel saw him.

"Dante!" He exclaimed, it wasn't just any dog, it was his dog! "Dante! It's Dante!"

Dante barked and spun around from way up high, when another shadow joins him. It's Mamá Imelda's alebrije, with her fantastic wings and giant size able to carry them. She landed on the cenote's edge with a resounding thud, loosening the water and letting it rain down on them, Miguel couldn't help but laugh with how happy he was to see her, and on her back Mamá Imelda peeked her head out.

They were saved.

She spotted Papá Héctor and frowned, "Héctor."

"Imelda!" He smiled sheepishly.

Oh boy.


A/N: Me: Blatantly gives Miguel one of my own memories. Well it wasn't one of my memories per-say, the only thing I remember getting the stitches now, but I have smashed my head on a shelf from dancing around right on my eyebrow… twice. I have scars on both of my eyebrows to match.