Everyone seemed to enjoy letting Héctor bond with Julio some in the last chapter. He deserves a chance to get to know some of the family members that he never knew. We're going to continue with that theme a bit in this chapter.

"…And then Julio ran home immediately after she left and practically begged me for advice," Rosita said, chuckling at the memory. "He knew that even if she enjoyed dancing, she would still want to talk eventually and my poor brother had no clue what to say to a pretty girl. He was in a panic that he would say something dumb and chase her off. Which seems silly now, but he didn't know much about her yet and Julio was always worried a bit. So as a good and supportive sister, I made him sit down, drink some water to calm down, and told him that maybe a good place to start would be to tell each other their names."

That sent Héctor chuckling slightly, trying to hide the slight cringe when his amusement caused too much movement and shook his frame more than he intended. But the quiet laughter was worth the slight pain. He could easily picture the man doing exactly that. Especially based on the stories that Julio shared before Héctor drifted back to sleep earlier.

Staying awake for any length of time was proving to be a challenge, even with someone talking to him. But he managed to hear a few wonderful stories about his daughter before falling asleep. And when he woke up again, Héctor found another eager relative checking on him.

Rosita lit up when she realized he was awake. Her initial enthusiastic reaction, the bright smile and attempt to scoop him up in a tight hug, didn't go over smoothly. But in her defense, she didn't know how much moving hurt and she immediately apologized for her excited embrace. And he appreciated the gesture and kindness behind it. Once the worst of the pain faded and he assured Rosita that he wasn't mad, the sweet-natured skeleton started talking to him. While Héctor and Julio mostly focused on Coco, Rosita seemed eager to share stories about the entire family.

"Well, he eventually managed to learn her name," she continued. "And they kept meeting up every chance they could to dance in the plaza. You could always tell when Julio spent the afternoon with her. There would be a distracted look in his eyes and a smile that refused to fade." She smiled to herself at the memory. "He completely fell for her from the start. It was adorable to watch him. Especially when he got all flustered from talking about Coco. But they couldn't keep their occasional romantic rendezvous secret forever. Mamá Imelda found out that Coco was sneaking out to listen to music and dance with a young man in the plaza. Poor Julio was scared to death about that. He came home in a complete panic after that conversation. She can be quite intimidating."

Chuckling softly, Héctor said, "She was always fierce. Even when we were children. You should have seen Imelda chasing after Oscar and Felipe when they tried to spy on us and tease her."

"I can imagine,' Rosita said with her own chuckle. "No matter how old they got, neither of them could apparently stay out of trouble for long."

Héctor smiled at her words. It was reassuring to hear that some things never change. There was so much chaos and change in his existence lately when it seemed like he was stuck in a constant cycle for almost a century. Tumbling right in the middle of this family, half of them practically strangers to him, was enough to make his skull spin.

There was so much to deal with now. After so long with almost nothing except fragile hope, it was overwhelming to be handed so much all at once. He loved it. He loved being surrounded by his family and getting to know them. And he loved the possibility of a second chance with Imelda. But he was admittedly nervous. He finally had something worth losing again. Héctor didn't want to say or do the wrong thing and ruin it. Not again.

Rosita seemed easy-going and friendly, so it would probably take a serious mistake to upset her. Hopefully. He could probably relax when it was just her. He probably didn't have to worry as much.

But as meek and nervous as Julio seemed, the man loved Coco and might hold a grudge on her account. He seemed willing to share stories and talk. But Héctor planned to be careful not to damage their hesitant start.

Oscar and Felipe would be trickier; they remembered Before and would have watched the fallout. On the one hand, Héctor knew them already. That might give him an advantage. On the other, that familiar history might make the normally-relaxed twins react more sharply to anything that Héctor did wrong.

And Imelda…

Maybe he had a chance to make things right with her. Maybe Imelda's kindness, both on that night and now, might be more than pity and a feeling of obligation. Maybe if he took his time and followed her lead, he could… he could…

But it would be so easy to shatter whatever fragile thing that might exist between them now.

So even as he tried to embrace and enjoy the warmth of being included by his family, Héctor couldn't forget that it might be temporary. He knew that he had a knack for ruining things. He would cherish these tidbits and scraps of affection while he could.

Embracing, enjoying, and cherishing these precious moments was better than focusing on how terrified he was that he would cause it all to be snatched away again.

"Well, since I told you how Julio and Coco met," said Rosita, smiling coyly, "perhaps you could tell me about how you and Mamá Imelda met?"

A fond smile twitched into place. No matter the undercurrent of worry, no matter how his bones ached dully, and no matter how weariness tugged at him, he couldn't resist that memory. It warmed and comforted him in his darkest and loneliest moments, when he was at his lowest points. There were a few treasured memories that he held close when it grew tough.

Their wedding was one such memory. The day that Coco was born was another. And his first memory of Imelda was yet another.

"We didn't properly meet then, but we both saw each other that day," he began slowly.

"Was it love at first sight?" asked Rosita.

"Well, I can't speak for her," he said, "but no. It wasn't love at first sight for me."

A small look of shock and disappointment briefly crossed her face. But Héctor was still talking.

"I didn't even see her. Not at first. I was nine years old at the time. It was in the plaza. Ernesto and I were lurking there, practicing a few songs." Héctor tried to ignore the fresh wave of loss, anger, and hurt that thinking about his former friend caused. "And suddenly, I heard the most beautiful voice singing along."

He closed his eyes, remembering how it sounded. How it felt. Warm, soft, and bright. Like a glowing candle. Or a fire crackling peacefully, perfect to curl up next to at the end of a long day. Her voice wrapped around you gently, but also plunged deep into your core and grabbed tight. The first time hearing her sing was an experience that his child self could barely put into words. And his reaction to her voice never grew any less intense.

"Oh my…," whispered Rosita in an awestruck voice.

Oh. Héctor would have ducked his head slightly in response if he didn't want to risk the pain. He didn't even realize that he said any of that part out loud. He must be more tired than he assumed. They'd been talking for a while already. Héctor suspected that he would fall back asleep soon.

He was growing a little frustrated with how tired and sore that he still felt. Keeping motionless all the time was even more frustrating.

"Her singing caught my attention first that day," he said finally, eyes still closed. "That's what I first learned about Imelda. Her singing. And then I saw her, already taking care of Oscar and Felipe as they walked with their mamá. She was so pretty. As pretty as her voice. And her song… I was just a boy, but I fell in love with her song. I loved her. And everything that I learned later, everything I discovered once I had the chance to get to know her better… It only made me love her more. Whenever I thought that I loved her as much as humanly possible, she somehow managed to make me love her even more."

He smiled drowsily, his thoughts about his wife and those better days warming his bones. Just like it always did.

"And I never stopped…"

Héctor could feel himself dozing back off. The weariness pulled at him, coaxing him to give into the comfort of the bed, the dull aches that were so slow to fade, and the warm memories that promised to transform into pleasant dreams. Dr. García warned that he needed plenty of rest to recover and it wouldn't be wise to disobey his orders. Héctor refused to fight the urge to sleep. He was too tired to bother.

His thoughts still filled with comforting memories as he slipped back towards sleep, he thought he heard Rosita say, "That's so romantic."

There weren't really stars in the sky in the Land of the Dead any more than there was a moon. Or maybe there was merely too much surrounding lights combined with the fog-like haze that made it difficult to identify where exactly the horizon might be. The sun could be easily seen in the sky, but perhaps any possible stars were simply too dim to reach them.

Regardless, Imelda couldn't sit outside in the evening and stare at the stars. Instead, under the guise of spending some time with Pepita after dinner, she had found a comfortable spot to look out at the lights of the city. While not as lively as it could get around Día de Muertos, the bright colors were almost as relaxing to stare at as the stars might have been. The sight was rather soothing and Pepita purring at her back vibrated all the way down to the marrow of Imelda's bones.

She'd been sleeping better. At least mostly. Nightmares and worries over finding an empty bed in the morning were long gone. The dreams that replaced them, while still about him no longer being around, didn't hurt quite as much. And ever since Héctor started waking up and talking with them for short periods of time, everything seemed to be growing easier on everyone. They weren't staying up all night to watch over him anymore. They would check on him during the day, but they could finally catch back up on their sleep and their work. For the most part, Imelda felt more like herself than she had in a couple weeks.

But the knowledge that all of this was temporary somehow kept bothering her. It shouldn't. Imelda lived most of her life without Héctor. And her entire death. She was more accustomed to his absence than his presence. And he probably wouldn't completely stay away. He would want to see Coco again at a minimum. And most importantly, Héctor didn't disappear into the Final Death. No matter what happened next, he wasn't completely gone. He would only be gone from her afterlife.

Leaning back onto the warm fur of her alebrije, Imelda closed her eyes. She knew that he would want to leave. She knew that there was no other possible outcome for them. Not without far too much pain for both of them. Imelda knew Héctor would leave.

But it still hurt when she overheard Héctor asking Dr. García when he could get out of her bed. When he could leave. He could barely stay awake for any stretch of time and he could barely move without pain, but he was already eager to go. Only his lack of energy, his broken bones, and his inability to move kept him from walking out the door already. But as soon as he healed, Héctor would be gone.

He would leave her. Part of her rebelled against it while another sought it; decades of hating Héctor for leaving her and Coco reacted to that small hurt and lashed out even as she foolishly wished to hold him tight and never let go.

But it would hurt less this way. And she couldn't blame him for leaving. Not this time. Not after everything that happened. Imelda refused to cause him any further pain. This was the best option.

She was keeping her distance. She was pulling back and trying to avoid him. Especially during those brief moments where he was awake. Imelda would still glance in on him, but the rest of the family seemed to be doing it more often than she was. If they noticed the change, none of her relatives commented.

"This is for the best," she said, running her hand over the bright fur.

Pepita turned her head and nudged Imelda. And just as she did when her companion was much smaller, the woman scratched gently behind the feline's ears.

"It's true. We'll both be happier in the long run," she said. "This way, neither of us gets hurt."

Her alebrije stared at her with one giant yellow eye. Imelda scowled at her.

"What are my other options? We can't go back to how we used to be and trying would only hurt. It'll hurt us both far more than this. We're better off this way. Once he's feeling better, Héctor will leave and everything will go back to how they were before." She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the tightness in her ribcage. "I don't need him to stay. I haven't needed him in a long time. When he leaves, I will be perfectly fine."

Somehow Pepita managed to give her a deadpan and disbelieving stare in response without even twitching a whisker. Her unwavering yellow gaze couldn't be mistaken for anything other than disapproval. Felines were naturally talented at such expressions.

"I will be fine. I have you. I have my family. And I have the truth finally and I'll have the knowledge that Héctor is safe. That's enough, Pepita. That will be enough for me."

As long as he kept his movements slow and easy, Héctor could move a little now. The dull aches remained, but he could avoid the sharper spikes of pain without needing to remain perfectly still. He didn't have the strength to try standing. He knew that much. But even slow and subtle progress was better than nothing. And it made it easier to keep himself occupied during his brief moments awake.

Especially if he wasn't alone.

"And I believe I win this round as well," said Héctor, slowly setting down his cards on the blanket.

Shaking his head as he stared at the winning hand, Oscar said, "When did you get this good? I don't remember you playing cards much."

"Though to be fair, we were fifteen the last time we saw him," muttered Felipe as he gathered the deck back together.

Forcing himself to ignore the reminder of how long he was gone and trying to be thankful that the twins were mentioning it in a way that didn't blamed him, Héctor said, "There's not always a lot to do for people like me. Cards are easy to get a hold of, don't require a lot of energy or movement that could knock loose your bones, and can distract you for a while. I already knew the basics when I was alive and I've been practicing since then."

"And now you can rob us blind," Oscar said, eyes the pile of buttons, shoelaces, spools of thread, and other random objects being used for their betting.

"How do you even have a poker face?" asked Felipe.

"Simple. If I don't stop smiling, then you can't tell what I'm thinking or if something is wrong."

Héctor didn't miss the slight flinch from the twins at his words. He didn't intend for that. He was trying to rebuild his old bonds with Oscar and Felipe, not make them uncomfortable.

At least it seemed to be going relatively smoothly. They hadn't mentioned him leaving Imelda and Coco alone. They hadn't mentioned how much he hurt his family. There had been no accusations of any kind. They seemed content to ignore that entire bundle of issues for the moment, instead remarking that he must be growing bored of spending so much time in bed and asking if he wanted to play a game.

Exchanging brief looks with his brother that seemed to contain a great deal of information, Oscar said, "So I guess we should consider you the winner then. Want to exchange that stuff for your prize?"

"What? A greater prize than my current winnings?" Héctor asked with a wry grin, gesturing carefully at the random items from the twins' aprons. Giving them a teasing and slightly suspicious look, he asked, "Is it something you two made? I remember the kinds of things that you used to think up and Rosita mentioned a few stories. Not to mention I remembered what happened to your parents' dog. Should I be worried?"

"That was a century ago," said Felipe, rolling his eyes. "And we're not children anymore. We're responsible."

"Completely responsible," Oscar added. "And we didn't make it. We—"

"—just picked it up last year. And we ended up sneaking a few into our room since—"

"—Rosita has a bit of a sweet tooth. It was the only way to make sure we didn't run out too soon. But we grabbed an odd number accidentally, so—"

"—we ended up with one extra. Which is good since with everything that happened—"

"—this Día de Muertos, none of us got to visit the ofrenda. But since it wouldn't be fair for one of us to have it—"

"—and not the other, it makes more sense for you to have it."

Watching the pair complete each other's' sentences felt familiar, even after so long. They were always good at knowing what their sibling was thinking. It was part of the reason that most people had trouble telling Oscar and Felipe apart: their words and actions matched more often than not. They weren't exactly the same though. There were subtle expressions and differences in their body language that someone who knew them could pick up on. It was those little differences that mattered.

But even if he could tell the difference between the twins, Héctor couldn't figure out what they were talking about this time. And when Felipe stepped out of the room, Héctor still had no clue what they were up to. But Oscar smiled like they'd had the best idea in the world. Which was very similar to how he and Felipe looked when the two of them were ten years old… right before they fell off the roof.

"Got it," said Felipe cheerfully, holding something up. "Last one from about a year ago. Good thing offerings don't go stale."

Héctor stiffened at the words, finally recognizing the pan de muerto in Felipe's hand for what it was. A pan de muerto. From an ofrenda. An actual offering from an ofrenda in the Land of the Living.

He knew that he shouldn't be staring so much. Almost everyone had received at least a small offering at some point and pan de muertos were fairly common choices. The delicious sweet bread ended up on almost every ofrenda. Even most of the people in Shantytown had received something small before they wandered down there, before the living began to forget them. But not him. Never him.

As Felipe reached it towards him, Héctor hesitated. It wasn't meant for him. The living members of the Rivera family left the pan de muerto on the ofrenda for the others. For Imelda, the twins, Julio, and the others. Not for him. They wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't deserve the leftover offering. He didn't deserve it. They wanted to ignore and forget him.

But not Coco. He wouldn't be here otherwise. And not Miguel. And since he felt more solid and stable than he'd felt in decades, maybe not the others in the family.

Maybe, even if they didn't leave it for him then, it would be all right to accept it now.

Somehow managing to keep from shaking, Héctor slowly took the offered pan de muerto. Hunger wasn't really that extreme for the dead. It could be ignored beyond a vague emptiness. After all, they couldn't starve to death and when you dwell in Shantytown with almost no resources, it was simpler to go without. Héctor couldn't remember the last time that he ate anything.

And when he did last eat, it was cheap food from the Land of the Dead made from the ingredients that ended up among the dead. Anything not brought back on Día de Muertos came by more unusual means. Resources such as building materials, fabric, leather, and food seemed to appear mysterious when it "died" in the Land of the Living. The working theory was that when something broke, burned, crumbled, unraveled, bent or cracked or spilled beyond any possible use, spoiled, rotted away, or otherwise was destroyed in some form, it sometimes arrived in the Land of the Dead. No one could predict what would appear or how it worked or what would count as the object's "death." It was yet another mystery that no one really understood. But it meant that they didn't completely rely on what was left on ofrendas for all their resources.

So they weren't completely dependent on offerings for food. They had access to ingredients and such. But everyone always talked about how it wasn't the same. They always talked about how anything brought back as offerings were always somehow more.

The first cautious bite hit him hard, the shock of it overwhelming him to the point it felt like the air was driven from his nonexistent lungs. Still as soft and fresh as the day it was baked, the pan de muerto was sweet and delicious. And intense. The flavor was stronger and fuller than anything that he'd tasted since he'd died. But it was more than just the taste. Every crumb seemed permeated with the feeling of love, family, memories, and comfort that was now flooding his body. It warmed his bones and left him shaking slightly in shock.

"Hey, you all right?" asked Oscar, staring at his face in concern. Héctor wasn't certain what expression he was wearing, but it was clearly enough to catch the twins' attention. "I know Elena makes pretty good pan de muerto, but it can't be that good."

Glancing at his brother, Felipe said, "Offerings are always better, remember? And…" He looked back towards the still-overwhelmed Héctor. "You've never had any offerings, have you? Am I right, Héctor?"

His voice shaking a little as he savored the flavor and warmth that it caused, he whispered, "Sí. I never got the chance. Not in the … decades that I've been here."

Once again, the siblings exchanged looks. Héctor couldn't miss the hint of pity on both their faces. But most of his focus was on how good the offering tasted and made him feel. The warmth and feeling of loving memories sank into his bones, easing the aches a little for the moment. He couldn't believe that he spent ninety-six years without any offerings. It was so sweet and delicious and good. The sensation from a single bite was so intense and overwhelming. It would probably be easier to handle if it didn't take decades to taste an offering. Or if he'd bothered to try eating anything in last several years.

"Well, you better be prepared for next year," said Oscar finally. "Miguel is undoubtedly going to pile a bunch of stuff on the ofrenda. Coco too."

"I still can't cross the bridge," Héctor reminded. "The foto that I tried to give him is gone."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Felipe said, "Then we'll bring back whatever they leave you. We know it's not the same, but…"

He smiled and quietly said, "Gracias. I… I appreciate that."

"Welcome back to the family," said Oscar.

"Brillante" means "brilliantly" or "with sparkle." It indicates that a section should be played in a showy and spirited style. It's a nice and happy type of sound, which is pretty nice while Héctor gets to spend time with our romantic Rosita and then later the twins.

Also, to the people who are already asking if something is wrong and what's taking so long, chill out! I am updating two "Coco" stories simultaneously. It takes time. And it really hasn't been that long. Please learn some patience.