A/N: Hello mis amigos! I know I am such an irresponsible ass. Why did I take so long to update? I have an excuse, many actually, that are legit and all but I don't want to be one of those fanfic writers that annoyingly does that. Just know that being in Mexico has its problems and that the US of A also has its problems...So here is the long awaited Chapter 4. We are continuing off from where Hector is crossing over.

Capitulo Numero 4: El Kiosko

Stepping into the cemetery of Santa Cecilia was a hit to Hector's nostalgia. He'd only been here two other times. When he crossed over the Marigold Bridge for the first time a year ago, and when he was still alive.

When he first crossed over the bridge, he had, to be completely ironic, died of joy. There was a feeling of euphoria that was brought with the scent of real air and the sight of real trees and real animals. Hector had also been eliciting, as put in Imelda's words, a sense of carefree spirit.

"You're just always like that," Imelda had said. He still remembers the smiles on everyone's faces, but surely his had been the brightest. He had been like a child returning to the home he had missed forever. That memory had been a happy one, as is every day of the dead for people in the living world. But...he had the certain suspicion that the visit through the cemetery would also bring back that unwanted memory. Pretty crazy. It was a memory but at the same time it wasn't. No matter how much he tried to remember the moment in real life, he couldn't recall it fully. Someone died and all he really remembers is standing in the rain as he stared at a tombstone whose inscribed name is blurred.

The rest of the Rivera family steps onto the solid earth of the Santa Cecilia cemetery, as Hector continues to reminiscence.

"Oooo! I can't wait to see our querido Miguel!" Tia Rosita exclaims. Coco nods in response to the woman's excitement, her smile conveying the fact that she was just as excited. They were both in suspense and ready to see the boy who would bring happiness to them, as he will for Hector. It almost felt surreal to be able to walk with his own two skeleton legs and have the chance to see his great great grandson for a second time. Imelda walked up to his right side and stared at Hector as he continued to stare into the distance, past the cemetary and towards the town in which Miguel lived, where the sun was just beginning to set.

"We should go," she says. Hector snaps out of his daze and looks down to her. "Miguel is probably waiting."

With that she begins to walk towards the exit of the cemetery, her hands firmly at her sides. Hector smiles as he follows Imelda. When he last saw Miguel, he was singing happily with his family. Hector had wondered if they had accepted his love for music after Miguel left the Land of the Dead, only to learn that they had done more than just accept his love. They had embraced it. Miguel's father had been singing along with his son, his cousin playing the violin, and Coco's daughter finally managed to begin to tap her feet to the beat. It was a moment ingrained in his mind. The moment everything changed for both of them.

The celebration of Day of the Dead provided a beautiful scene in the cemetery. Tombs adorned with orange Marigold flowers and pots of food like tamales, gorditas and, his favorite, the dessert-like bread: conchas. As he walked a young girl with a firework in her hand came running up to him. And ultimately through him. Hector flinches from the awkward sensation, like someone sofly grasping your soul then slowly drawing back. Well everything changed two years ago Everything except for the fact that he was still dead. Hector looks back to the girl still running towards her family gathered by a shrine.

And then his gaze went up a bit and there at the end of the cemetery path was the huge tomb. Ernesto's tomb.

Hector's mind is beginning to flood with all the tragic memories the man caused, but he ends up having to hold back a chuckle when he sees the wooden sign displaying in red letters the words "Forget you". It wouldn't take a genius to realize it was a direct counter to Ernesto's token slogan.

"Hector!"

Hector turns his head to see his entire family already at the exit and calling to him. When had they gotten there? Hector turns to stare at his ex-friend's grave one last time. Something about the grave made his skin crawl. And though most of him hated just the idea of the man, anger isn't the emotion he's sensing. It was something that makes his head be filled with confusing thoughts when he looks through the windows of the tomb towards the casket that held a dead man. It made Hector's non-existent heart beat just a bit faster.

Was this ...fear? But of what?

Hector shakes his head, wiping the thoughts away, then with newfound determination he turns around, successfully pushing the thought of Ernesto out of his head, and begins a jog to meet Imelda and the other's.

"¡Ay voy!"

Hector joins Imelda, her face full of annoyance and her arms crossed over her chest.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," he answers, shrugging his shoulders at her, "Weren't we gonna go, señorita?" Hector smiles as he and the rest of the Rivera family begin to walk away, Imelda follows them as well, only barely resisting the urge to stare back the way Hector came. He wasn't the only one who noticed the tomb.

As the family walked together through the streets of Santa Cecilia, the living people in ignorance of their presence, each member began to remember. This had been their home long ago. They each held something of value here. As they passed the open plaza, filled with people ready to celebrate the holiday, Hector sees his thing of value. The kiosko that was always in the middle of the plaza, the kiosko presently right in front of his eyes. The tiny stage was the first one he had performed on.

Hector remembers being a young man with a dream. He had waited on the side, on the steps leading up to the elevated stage, his guitar strapped over his chest, as he nervously twiddling his thumbs together much like Miguel had done when he first performed in the Land of the Dead. (Though the boy's audience had been much larger than his first.)

Hector had been approached in that moment by Ernesto de la Cruz. It was the first time he met him, and just like everyone else, he had been infected by the older man's cheeriness and confidence. He had put a firm hand on Hector's shoulder and declared to him: "Ay amigo...don't let the nerves get you down. Just go up there and sing."

And Hector had done just that. He had sung his original song and the group of probably fifteen people watching enjoyed it. They danced and they cheered. Hector had felt so incredibly carefree in that moment. After his performance, he had been ready to go home when Ernesto came up to him again.

"We would make a great team, amigo," he had said, "How about we team up. You know? To give these people the good music they deserve!"

Hector had said no. Obviously. He had Imelda and a young Coco to worry about and he'd be damned if he abandoned them. But Ernesto insisted.

"Andale! You know, all that cheering you heard today was only the beginning," he had said this as he put his arm around Hector's shoulder, "Imagine a crowd of thousands yelling your name." Hector still had had a look of uncertainty, and Ernesto noticed it.

"Look at this plaza." He showcased the empty plaza with the kiosko centered in the middle. "This place would be filled with fans climbing to the roofs for the chance to see you! To hear you! Hector!" In this moment he had slapped his free hand onto Hector's chest in a sign of mock friendship and his loud booming voice had dropped to a low whisper. "You've got talent."

He had let Hector go. He stood next to the man. He remembers being moved by Ernesto to the point where he'd turn his head to look at the plaza and imagine it the way Ernesto had described it. So in that moment, Hector had said the words he would regret for all eternity with a sure smile on his face: "I'm in."

He hadn't known that the man would betray him the way he did. He had just been a young boy moved by the speech of a contagiously proud man. Ernesto had been the confidence, while he was the brains.

Hector turns away from the kiosko as the Rivera family passes by it on the way to the house. Imelda and Coco were all that mattered right now. They were his love and his hope. There was no way he'd ever make the mistake of trusting someone so easily again, just to get stabbed in the back, left to die and to be seen as a man who deserted his family. For Imelda, for Coco and for Miguel. Never again.

Imelda is walking with her family towards her home. The home that had been built by her determination and hard work. There were almost there, and Imelda, like all the rest was excited to see one person in particular: Miguel. How could someone describe the gratitude Imelda had for the young boy who had saved Hector, who had revealed the truth about everything. She never got the chance to say thank you to him, his reappearance in the living world was inevitable. But she hopes, this time Hector and her will find a way to reach him. But it was only a fools dream.

As the Rivera family continue walking, they pass the kiosko, a little elevated stage in the center of the square. Imelda can say that the place was rather normal. The only fond memory Imelda had of the place wasn't even a memory of her own.

She remembers being outside in the patio of their home with Coco laying asleep in a small basket with blankets, the girl only a few months old. She'd been outside, preparing a meal: tacos de lengua. She was in her wooden chair, slapping the tortilla dough into their thin, circular shapes to place on the heated platform, with the fire burning underneath. Imelda had heard the bang of the tall aluminum doors leading into the patio being opened. With her back to the door, Imelda had to turn her body to see the person she'd been waiting for.

"Hola, mi amor. How was your day?"

Hector had come in exasperated, as if he had ran to the house. Imelda was going to ask what was wrong when he broke into a slow laugh, his eyes began to shine and his lips quirked into a smile ever so slowly.

"Imelda, I…" Hector began to say but his sentence was cut short by his own attempts at catching breath. Imelda was left in suspense.

"What?"

Hector finally straightened himself out and went up closer to her.

"I performed!" he finally said, loudly to let all the neighbors know as well.

"Shhh!" Imelda brought her index finger to her lips and at that moment Hector had looked over to the sleeping Coco. He had brought his hands to his mouth his lips moving to silently make the words: Oops.

Imelda laughed lightly at her charming husbands clumsy behaviour, and the words he said had, at that moment, finally sunk in.

"You really performed?" Imelda asked, her tone hopeful.

"Yeah. It was amazing." Hector's eyes had slowly drifted to a dream-like state. He had been thinking about the performance, and about how it had made him happy.

"That's wonderful!" Imelda had stood up from her seat by the stove in her excitement, leaving the tortillas on the fire. Hector beamed at her, ready to embrace her when they heard the rustle of blankets as baby Coco moved in her sleep. Imelda had said that a bit too loud.

"Shhh," Hector said, his index finger placed at his lips. Imelda had pouted slightly at the man copying her earlier shushing. His smile had grown even more and he winked at her, finally wrapping his arms around her and embracing.

"It was even better than we thought it'd be," he said, his voice tickling Imelda's ear. "Next time you'll go up and sing with me." He had hugged her even tighter in that moment and Imelda had warped her own arms around his body, completely filling the space between them.
"Where?" Imelda asks softly, her voice had conveyed the absolute bliss the contact between them was providing.

"We'll perform in the kiosko." Hector pulled away, holding Imelda by the shoulder at arm's length. Imelda's face had been bewildered by the sudden loss of contact. "Like I did today."

Hector had been smiling so brightly, it was practically blinding. Like a sun, Imelda remembers thinking.

"Okay." Imelda had said returning the smile to Hector. His grin had become even larger at her words, and Imelda can recall his two dimples being so easily noticeable. He had pecked her lightly on the lips, short and sweet. And then his face upturned to one of curiosity, his nostrils breathing in something in the air.

"What's burning?" he asks.

Imelda snaps out of her daze and turns in a hurry to the stove, smoke coming out of the pieces of black on it, which no longer looked like tortillas.

"AY! Las tortillas!" she yelled and Coco had finally began crying.

That had happened years ago, but Imelda still has a smirk come to her face at the memory. She looks over to Hector walking next to her. He was looking at the plaza too. What could he be thinking about? The man looks at him intently and Imelda realizes that whatever he was remembering wasn't all cheery and happy like her's.

Imelda's attention is drawn to her arm, as Coco tugs on her sleeve. She looks to her daughter and notices that the rest of the Rivera family have stopped.

"We're here," Hector says as he comes to stand next to her. And there the house was. Only a few feet down the road. Imelda and Hector had been so lost in remembrance, they had forgotten that they were walking. Imelda just stares at the house, like if it was a sanctuary.

Since she was always followed like a leader by the rest of the family, she took the first step towards the home. Instantly, everyone else began walking too. They were almost there.

They were here. Hector never wouldn't have believed he'd get another chance to cross over, let alone come to the house which once held all the people he loved. In the Land of the Living, the dead walk around like ghosts. When they want to make spirit copies of anything, it has to be something their family put out specifically for them. But everything and everyone else, just pass right through them and elicits that awkward sensation. So thank God the gates leading into the patio of the Rivera home were open, the trail of Marigold flowers leading straight into the ofrenda room.

In the middle of the yard is the table which is barely beginning to be set up for the celebration. And out through the kitchen door on the other side of the patio comes Coco's daughter.

"Miguel!" the woman yells in no particular direction, wobbling with the several plates in her hands, "Bring over the salad, mijo!" The entire dead Rivera family, standing at the entrance wait for the chance to hear the boy respond. They all wanted to hear his voice again.

"Si abuelita!" the boy yells from inside the kitchen. And there he was. The unmistakable sound of his voice. The entire Rivera family look at each other, smiling, but Hector just stared in the direction of the kitchen, thinking of walking in to see the boy.

Then they hear the sound of children and Hector and the rest look behind them to the family making their way into the Rivera home through the gate, just barely not passing through any one of them.

"Hola suegra. We;re home," the young beautiful women who had been followed by young children says. From her feature, hector could see the resemblance to Miguel. She must be his mother. The woman immediately helps her mother-in-law with the plated food, trying to ignore the pestering children at her feet pulling on her dress.

Then, all of a sudden, the Rivera family watch as Coco walks up to the table, looking at her daughter with sad smile.

"I'm gonna take the children up to their rooms," Miguel's mother says, "I'll be right back to help." With that she picks up one of the little girls walking beside her and behind towards the rooms.

Coco walks around the table and gently puts an arm on her daughter's shoulder, not letting it pass through completely. The old living woman moves to fix the plates on the table, unintentionally going out of her mother's embrace.

Coco's face converts to one of sadness. Hector was about to take a step forward to comfort her but Imelda beat him to it. He and the rest of the family watch from afar as Imelda hugs her daughter like the mother that she is.

"It's okay, mi amor," she says, "You will grow used to the fact they can't see us."

Hector could understands his daughter's pain. He has wanted so badly ever since two years ago, to hold and embrace Miguel. But it's impossible. The boundaries between life and death can't be broken.

Hector tries to put on a smile and straightens his slouched back. He turns to Tia Rosita, Papa Julio and the twin Uncles. They are all staring at the scene being caused by Imelda and Coco.

"How about we go into the ofrenda room," at this the family turn to him, "Let's see what Miguelito put out for us." He takes his left and goes into the room which holds the shrine dedicated to them. In their is the photos of all of them. And food. Lot's of food.

"Miguel sure knows what we want," one of the Tio's say as they reach for the tamales and conchas on the table. Hector laughs lightly at them. He reaches for the concha placed under the black and white picture of him, Imelda and little Coco. He instantly makes a spirit copy of the bread and holds it in his hands.

His face falls at the melancholic thoughts running through his head. This was supposed to be a happy moment but all he could think about is how he can't share this bread with Miguel. How he can't hug him. How he can't talk to him. How he can only see from so close, yet so very far. If only a miracle would happen and Miguel could see them. But luck was never on his side.

Hector brings the bread to his bony mouth, about to take a bite out of it when he all of a sudden he jumps at the sound of broken ceramic.

Hector quickly turns away from the ofrenda, to see the one subject of his thoughts over the last two years: Miguel.

At the boys feet is the broken bowl which had most likely held a salad. The boys mouth is agape, his eyes wide and staring. At him.

Could he…?

"Hector?" the boy says lowly, as if his own words were unbelievable. Hector stares at the boy. He said his name.

Can he really…?

No it's impossible, but the little bit of hope in Hector's soul tells him to ask the question he wanted to ask so desperately.

"Can you see me?"

It's impossible. He couldn't possibly.

But Miguel nods. "Yes. I can see you."

And at that moment Hector's concha slips from his hands and onto the floor.

It was a miracle.

A/N: It's finally done! That took me surprisingly long (barely started like a day ago). Btw a kiosko is like that one stage were the people were performing in Coco in the plaza when Miguel ran away from his family. It's like a little hut which is literally in every pueblo in Mexico. I can't promise the next chapter soon (i have a lot of research papers due) but I promise it will be good. I don't publish anything unless it's good. I'm stubborn like that .. Also thanks so much to all the people that reviewed, favorited and/or followed. You people keep me going! Please review, your comments help me improve my writing and I'm still open to answering any questions on Mexican culture. Well until the next update!