Time for another update. I hope that everyone is excited to see what happens next. Someone is going to be thinking about relationships. And there's a conversation about love.

Too bad that it isn't Héctor and Imelda having that conversation…

The first fifteen minutes of Dr. García's usual checkup visit wasn't actually spent upstairs with his patient. Instead, he was nearly overwhelmed by Oscar and Felipe's waterfall of words. The pair alternated between frantic apologies for dragging Héctor out of bed and wearing him out, assuring the doctor that it was completely their fault and that they did their best to keep him from putting any weight on his old injuries, and… explaining their various ideas of how to get Héctor mobile again.

The inventions that they described, mostly shoe-based, sounded interesting and might help him move around… theoretically. But most would either have various practical problems when it came to operating them or would run the risk of further injury. Or both. The pair were innovative, inventive, and enthusiastic, but that didn't always translate into "safe."

When one of the twins remarked that Imelda already rejected several of the more "creative" options, Dr. García wondered what had been worse than the knee-high roller skates that they showed him sketches of.

Finally, once Dr. García explained that a cane or a pair of crutches would be the best option and only when Héctor was supervised until he recovered more, the doctor could finally make it up to the bedroom.

Unsurprisingly, his patient was in bed. He wasn't asleep though. He was lazily scratching at his leg under the blanket, staring at a picture frame that someone had brought over at some point. He'd been changed into some different clothes, though the fit suggested they were borrowed from someone else rather than belonging to him. He did look cleaner and less battered now. Just tired. His trip around the rest of the house would have exhausted him, but Héctor seemed to have survived that adventure. And he was a far cry from how he looked during his first visit.

"Hola, Héctor," greeted Dr. García, catching his patient's attention. "How are you feeling today?"

"Tired," he said, closing his eyes briefly as he set the picture frame down on the quilt. "I'm always tired though."

"I know it can be frustrating, but you need to be patient with yourself," said the doctor as he set his bag down. "Your strength may be coming back slowly, but it is returning. You're just not giving yourself credit for the vast improvements you've made. You're staying awake longer. You were able to leave the bed, even if you needed help. Your color has improved."

"I managed to wash and that seemed to help," Héctor said.

"Bone polish isn't completely responsible. It can't work miracles, no matter what the advertisements promise." Taking his patient's arm and looking over the splint, Dr. García continued, "You still feel stiffer than you're used to?"

"Sí. All my joints… All my bones… When I try to move, they resist it," he admitted. "It's frustrating. Especially when moving doesn't hurt as much now."

"That's good."

"…Qué?"

"The memories holding you together? They are growing stronger as you are remembered more. That 'stiffness' is due to the fact that your bones are holding together better."

Héctor blinked in surprise before looking down at his hand. He flexed his fingers, staring at the movement thoughtfully. He truly hadn't realized what it meant.

"And the pain? You said that has improved?"

Distractedly scratching at his wrapped rib, Héctor said, "Sí. There are still aches, but it's not too bad if I'm careful. Slow and careful. I've dealt with worse."

Considering how many broken bones that he bore, not to mention how long that he'd been walking around on a broken leg, Dr. García wasn't surprised. The man seemed to have a relatively-high pain tolerance. Either naturally or through necessity.

"Good. Just don't push yourself," said the doctor. Gesturing towards the wrapped injuries, he asked, "Are you itching too much? I noticed you scratching at them."

Héctor glanced down at his wrapped rib, a look of surprise flashing across his face. The man looked between the medical tape and his hand with far too much confusion over his actions. He didn't seem to have noticed that he was scratching in the first place.

"Uh… Maybe a little?" he said.

"Just your rib or your arm and leg as well?"

"My leg is bothering me a little. But my arm is fine."

Dr. García nodded thoughtfully, reaching over and feeling the rib through the medical tape. The broken arm was apparently the oldest of the three injuries. It would be too much to expect much improvement after fifteen years. But if the rib and the broken tibia were starting to itch, it could be a sign that they were trying to heal. As long as Héctor didn't mess with the old fractures, the memories from his living family could coax the bones to gradually knit back together. There was an actual chance.

"Be careful if you scratch at them," advised Dr. García. "The splint on your leg should hold up, but the medical tape around your rib could shift if you treat it roughly."

Nodding slowly, Héctor said, "I'll keep that in mind."

"If you keep weight off your leg and show a little common sense, then you can try getting out of bed again if you have the energy," said Dr. García. "I would still advise caution about your limits until your recovery is further along, but you might feel better if you aren't cooped up the entire time."

Smiling wryly, Héctor said, "Many people over the years have commented on my 'little common sense,' but gracias."

The more times that Victoria wandered down to the lower levels of the city, the more absurd her original unease seemed in hindsight. Yes, Shantytown was dark, damp, and composed of the rejected remnants of society, both with the materials and the population. And yes, it made it hard to ignore how everyone would eventually be forgotten.

But even with the sad undertone, it wasn't a place of sorrow or fear. There were too many friendly smiles, welcoming shouts, laughter, and affectionate teasing for that. Scattered fires and occasional strings of light brightened some of the corners, especially later in the day. And music… Music always seemed to drift on the breeze and Victoria no longer instinctively pulled away from it.

These were good people and she had nothing to fear. Not even when she decided to come down alone with a few boxes; Rosita had gone with Julio to visit their parents and other relatives.

"Prima Victoria!"

"Hola, Prima Victoria. Back already?"

"Didn't expect to see you so soon, Prima Victoria."

"Welcome back, Prima Victoria."

Victoria nodded politely at the greetings. But she couldn't seem to focus on the words. There was something missing and it was nagging at her. The woman found herself moving along the plank walkways in a distracted state. She barely noticed the occasional bemused glances from those around her. She was too busy trying to figure out what was wrong.

It hit her abruptly, almost making her stumble into the water from surprise. No violin. Out of all the different instruments and voices producing music along the waterline, she didn't hear the familiar makeshift violin.

"You're here earlier than we expected, Prima Victoria," said Juan as he approached. "And only a few boxes? I'm beginning to think this is more of a social visit." Taking the boxes from her and handing them over to some of the other skeletons to distribute to their new owners, he added, "You know you're always welcome."

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Things tense at home?" asked Juan, settling down on an old crate and indicating a barrel next to him.

Taking the offered seat, Victoria said, "Not precisely 'tense,' but it is frustrating."

"Cousin Héctor not what you were expecting?"

"No, he's not. He's… friendly, cares about his family, and seems to have a nice sense of humor. He's not anything like what I grew up believing," she said quietly. "But that isn't it. Mamá Imelda clearly still cares about him."

Laughing proudly, Juan said, "Good for him. Maybe it'll work out for him this time. It's hard enough finding love sometimes and holding onto it even harder. He deserves a second chance."

"But that's the problem. Everyone can see it, but she and Héctor seem reluctant to broach the subject."

That was a bit of an understatement, to be honest. The entire family could see that the old sparks of the relationship remained. Victoria and the others had compared interactions with the two of them since Día de Muertos and it was enough to realize it. That was the entire reason that they arranged the family dinner in the first place, especially after the twins remembered when Héctor's birthday fell. They thought it would be easier for the pair to be in a more casual group setting rather than attempting to force them into something that more strongly resembled a date.

Rosita's occasional comments that a surefire strategy from her romance books would be to trap the pair in a closet together… were less than helpful.

Regardless, it didn't work. With the exception of that brief moment when Mamá Imelda and Héctor were laughing together over past events, they barely spoke to each other. But that didn't mean they ignored one another. Mamá Imelda couldn't keep her eyes off her husband for long and Héctor gave her quite a few adoring glances. Everyone around the table noticed it. Their behavior was impossible to miss or ignore. Except apparently the long-estranged couple didn't notice the obvious.

"Give them some time. From what I've heard and guessed over the years, they have reasons to be cautious," said Juan. "Once bitten, twice shy. And putting your heart on the line is never easy. Even if none of us have hearts anymore…"

"Quite a lot of insight when it comes to love. And you claimed that you had no interest in chasing señoritas," Victoria said dryly.

Giving her a small smile, Juan said, "Just because I'm not looking for a señorita doesn't mean I don't know anything about love. And speak of that…"

He reached under his ragged shirt. Victoria didn't know what she expected, but she caught a glimpse of a bright color as he pulled something out.

"Tío Carlos told me to give this to you should you show up someday while he wasn't here," said Juan. "He didn't want it to get damaged, so he left it down here. He probably would have preferred to give it to you himself, but no one expected you today. And he's up to something at the moment."

The name made Victoria smile involuntarily. She barely realized that she did. He left something for her? That was… sweet. She quietly accepted the offered gift.

A small flower, one constructed of tissue paper and a bit of wire, rested innocently in her hand. The delicate object was the same shade of blue as her favorite blouse. It wasn't an expensive trinket. It was something that Carlos could and probably did make himself. But the effort that he put into making it and the fact he chose that particular color warmed something deep inside her.

He hadn't made her a pair of shoes like how Elena did for Franco. It wasn't like that. But somehow… it still meant something.

Twisting the small paper flower between her fingers, Victoria said calmly, "That was nice of him. I'm sorry that I missed him. Will you tell Carlos 'thank you' when he returns?"

"Of course,' said Juan with a knowing grin. "Between the flower and his violin, he seems to have a knack for making things out of scraps. I think he used some old papel picado."

"It's nice," she said.

It was pretty. And rather thoughtful. She couldn't remember the last time someone outside her family gave her anything as a gift to show their affection. The fact that he chose a color that she liked so much made it seem sweeter. He had taken an interest in her preferences by paying attention to what she wore. He paid attention to her.

To be honest, Victoria didn't have much experience with these types of situations. Her family's reputation, and Mamá Imelda's fierce and protective reputation specifically, ensured that her possible suitors were limited. And the few who braved such a challenge were never people who appealed to Victoria. They never seemed to fit her the same way that Franco fit with Elena.

Did Carlos though? Did he appeal to her more than as a friendly face to visit? A poor músico from Shantytown, most likely to be completely forgotten within a generation? That was the real question. Because if she wasn't interested in anything more than what they had already established, then she should discourage him sooner rather than later. It wouldn't be fair to lead the man on. It would be cruel and Victoria refused to be cruel.

While being a músico would have once guaranteed that he wouldn't be accepted, Mamá Imelda had welcomed Héctor back into their home and family. And he was a músico and he'd spent decades in Shantytown. Thus, neither fact should count against Carlos. All that would matter would be if she and her family liked the man himself and if she wanted to risk a relationship that she knew came with a built-in time limit.

Common sense told her that it wasn't the wisest idea and that she should tell Carlos to stop. The blue paper flower in her hand… It made her consider the possibility.

"He really does seem to like you, Prima Victoria," said Juan cautiously.

Looking up from her new trinket, she said quietly, "Sí. I've noticed."

"And you still don't mind the attention?" continued Juan, pushing a little more.

"He's a good man," she said evenly. "I enjoy his company when I come to visit. Just as I like seeing the rest of you when I come down here."

The way that he smiled and chuckled at her words suggested that Juan didn't completely believe her neutral tone. It almost reminded her of talking to Rosita. It was ridiculous. Everyone wanted to act like a bunch of matchmakers all the time. Why couldn't they leave Victoria alone and just focus on Mamá Imelda and her complicated relationship with Héctor?

"Juan!"

They both turned to look, the cheerful voice catching their attention. Dressed in gray clothes that might have once been blue before they faded, he slid in next to them. It took a moment for Victoria to place the graying hair and the yellow lines around his eye sockets. There were so many people in Shantytown... But she recognized him with a little thought. Especially when her eyes flickered down briefly to his new and sturdy shoes.

Smiling warmly at him, Juan greeted, "Jorge. You made it back early."

"What can I say? I missed you," he replied, reaching down and taking his hand.

Letting Jorge pull him to his feet, Juan glanced back towards Victoria and said, "Make sure you visit Tía Gabriela while you're here. And think about what we were discussing. Don't let something good slip through your fingers. I don't know what you feel or don't feel. I just know that real love is hard to find both in life and death. You never know how long you have. If you find it, don't let it pass you by."

Their fingers intertwined, Juan and Jorge walked off along the plank pathways and left Victoria with her thoughts.

Elena stepped outside briefly to check on her mamá. They'd parked her wheelchair near the old covered well that morning while Benny and Manny played. But as time passed, they needed to make sure to move her into the shade. Too much direct sunlight pounding on her head wouldn't be healthy for a woman her age.

Mamá was where Elena positioned her earlier, dozing lightly with her feet resting on the xoloitzcuintle dog curled up in front of her. The stray briefly opened his eye and wagged his tail, but apparently felt too comfortable and lazy to move from his spot. He seemed perfectly happy to serve as an old woman's footrest and warm her feet with his body heat.

"You're making it very hard to pretend that I don't know you're hanging around," Elena said, glaring down at the dog.

The hairless thing only wagged his tail harder at her words, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The stray was a homely thing. Elena honestly couldn't see what made her grandson so attached to the dog. Especially when she warned Miguel against naming a stray.

But then, her grandson had never been good at doing as he was told.

"Mamá," she called gently.

"Hmm… Who…?" said Mamá, blinking awake. After staring blearily a moment, she smiled and said, "Elena. I must have drifted off."

Even now, she wasn't used to her mamá's improved memory. There were moments where she got lost in the past, needing to be coaxed back to the present. But they were fewer and farther between than they once were. She seemed more aware and happier. And for that, Elena would be eternally grateful.

"It's all right, Mamá," Elena said. "I just thought you might like to move to the shade."

Nodding slowly with drowsy contentment, Mamá said, "That would be nice. Gracias."

The dog didn't even bother to try moving out of the way until the wheelchair nearly ran him over. And even then, he barely scrambled to the side before trying to follow. How in the world did they see more of that stray while Miguel was at school than when he was at home? He kept trying to curl up next to Coco during the day. The fact that the old woman didn't seem to mind his presence was the only reason that Elena hadn't tried harder to chase him off.

That and she wasn't ready to risk hurting Miguel again so soon.

Settling her mamá in her new position, Elena had to admit that the boy was the most complicated of all her grandchildren. He pulled music back into the family, introducing it to the cousins. He fought back decades of tradition to show the good of music, letting it heal and comfort Coco. Miguel constantly asked and discussed the long-lost musician, forcing the family to think about Héctor. Forcing Elena to think about him. And he brought that guitar into the house.

Elena might have spent her entire life avoiding music and everything to do with it, but she had a good eye for detail and a good memory. The beautiful white instrument certainly matched the family foto. And Mamá confirmed that it belonged to her papá. So Elena knew it was Héctor's instrument. But she remembered the records that Miguel showed them that evening, the picture of another man on the cover holding the guitar. And now that she no longer felt obligated to avoid Mariachi Plaza, though she rarely sought the place out, Elena saw the statue with her own eyes and didn't immediately look away with a sniff of displeasure.

She wasn't a fool. She could connect the dots. Mamá mentioned a "Tío Ernesto" during her stories. The celebrity musician, the one that all of Santa Cecilia adored, would have lived in the town at the same time as Mamá Imelda's husband. Señor Ernesto de la Cruz played Héctor's guitar at some point after the letters ended. The same guitar that vanished from the man's crypt the same night that Miguel managed to get his hands on it.

No one in the family, with the occasional exception of Rosa, wanted to admit it. But they knew. Miguel took the guitar from the crypt. It was why they stopped asking him where he vanished that night; they didn't want to lose plausible deniability. But what they didn't know is how Héctor's guitar ended up in Señor de la Cruz's possession in the first place.

Perhaps Mamá Imelda sold it to him after Héctor disappeared. That made the most sense. She sold most of his belongings in the early years. Elena remembered that part of the story, that she sold what she could and threw out what she couldn't. It was a tidy explanation that cleared up the issue.

Except Héc— Papá Héctor would need his guitar if he planned to play for the world, so he wouldn't have left it at home to be sold.

And Luisa, Carmen, and Franco didn't grow up under the music ban. They remembered the songs they grew up with.

When Miguel wasn't around to eavesdrop, all the adults found themselves visiting the various issues dragged up that night. One of those topics was the song that Miguel sang and that Mamá claimed her papá wrote specifically for her. The lyrics appeared in the letters, as if Papá Héctor wanted to quote the song to his daughter. A song that those who married into the Rivera family recognized as the most iconic work of Señor de la Cruz. A song that wouldn't become famous until after Papá Héctor vanished.

How did the man get his hands on Papá Héctor's song as well as his guitar? Señor de la Cruz apparently claimed to write his own music. No one ever spoke of a partner or someone else helping him with the songs. Every adult member couldn't help discussing the question.

Maybe Elena was cynical or maybe it was Miguel's firmly asking why Papá Héctor never came home when he clearly loved his family, but she couldn't think of a good reason for Señor de la Cruz to end up with those things. It raised too many suspicions. A lifetime of hating musicians might be to blame, but Elena didn't trust the celebrity. His statue looked too smug.

They couldn't prove anything. She didn't even know for certain what she suspected. But everyone was in agreement not to speak a word of this to Miguel. Based on his now-destroyed secret stash, the boy idolized Señor Ernesto de la Cruz. It would crush him to find out that his hero could be involved in something shady.

Elena shrugged those thoughts off for the moment, watching the stray dog curling back up under Mamá's feet like before. She should probably get her mamá something to drink before returning to the workshop. And after that, she would need to work on their plans about gifts for their upcoming holiday. With all the older grandchildren expressing interest in music, most of the family thought musical instruments might be a nice gesture.

Especially after what happened to Miguel's first guitar. A new guitar, a new one for casual playing and less attention-grabbing than the white one, would feel like an apology for harsh mistakes.

Unfortunately, Elena didn't know anything about picking out a decent instrument. Neither did most of the family. That presented a challenge for them if they wanted to go through with their gift idea. She needed an expert.

Maybe she could track down that mariachi from the plaza. The one who tried talking to Miguel on Día de Muertos. He probably knew where to get musical instruments without being swindled. And Elena was quite certain the man would help if she asked nicely.

Perhaps not my longest chapter, but this story is now the longest "Coco" fanfiction story on the site and it was enjoyable to write. And hopefully the rest of you enjoyed it as well and that the rest of the story makes you happy.

In music, "pizzicato" means "pinched" or "plucked" and is used with string instruments. In music for bowed strings, it means for the player to pluck with the fingers as opposed to playing with the bow. In music for guitar, it indicates for the player to mute the strings by resting the palm on the bridge, simulating the sound of pizzicato of the bowed string instruments. Regardless, it produces a very different sound than normally and doesn't ring out as long.