A/N:

For those of you who had the chance to read chapter 13 before I deleted it, here's its full version. I didn't want to post part 2 in a separate chapter because I realized that they would both be too short compared to most of the previous chapters. I apologize for this mistake.

Enjoy!

Cornered

Miguel was atypically quiet. Ever since they'd entered the Land of the Dead, he'd been ecstatic to listen to every musical tune that passed his ears, sometimes even humming along. But with his hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the ground and slumped shoulders, Rosa couldn't push down the apprehension in the pit of her stomach.

"You okay, primo?"

When his eyes widened all of a sudden, she almost expected him to wave off the question, but he merely sighed from the bottom of his heart. He made sure that Héctor wouldn't pick up on his words before replying:

"I feel remorseful… for what I said to our family. Rosa, I… I didn't mean any of that, you have to believe me. I love our family."

The memory of the major fight in the hacienda racked the girl once again. Against her will, those fateful moments had already resurfaced a couple of times after they'd escaped Mamá Imelda.

She knew that her cousin loved the family more than he realized. She would've probably had a similar reaction had her violin been shattered right in front of her. She wasn't sure if she would have run away from home, but she would have definitely been cross with the familia for weeks, maybe even longer.

The boy's assurance that he hadn't meant what he'd said felt like a hand lifting a weight from her chest. Oddly, a part of the pain inflicted by his hours-long statement lingered.

"I understand, Miguel. I know you didn't mean it. They hurt you, and because I just stood there doing nothing, I am at fault too. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could've saved your guitar somehow."

"Don't feel bad about that. Abuelita's the one responsible." His eyes darkened as the images of his irreparable instrument flashed through his mind. "It's better that you stayed out of it, otherwise who knows what trouble you might have gotten into?"

Rosa shivered slightly. Miguel's fury diminished.

"I wonder how they're doing," he mumbled.

"Still searching for us, I guess?"

"Most likely."

After a few peaceful moments, another worry rose.

"What will we do when we get back?"

Miguel shook his head. "No idea. But let's not think about that now. We already have so much to do."

He then turned to their guide. "Hey, Héctor?'

"¿Sí?"

"Should I do something that makes me unhappy?"

"Definitely not, chamaco."

"Even if my family wants me to do it?"

Héctor was taken aback, his eyes dwelling on the boy. Rosa's heart crumpled a little when grasping that Miguel was referring to shoe-making.

"What exactly do you have to do?" The skeleton asked.

"Doesn't matter. Am I obliged to do it even if I dislike it? Don't get me wrong, I do want to make my family proud, but… it's just hard sometimes."

Héctor was lost in thought. "Have you tried telling them you don't wanna do it?"

Miguel's gaze switched to the horizon. "No. I'm afraid that they wouldn't understand, that they'd resent me for not being like them."

"I honestly don't think they would, chamaco. They want you to be happy. If you don't wanna do whatever it is that you're supposed to do, then you should talk things out."

"Like that's ever gonna happen." Miguel muttered under his breath only for Rosa to hear.

"Maybe you won't find shoemaking to be that bad, primo. I personally love it." She tried to encourage him.

"Then I regret I'm not like you." He said rather peeved.

"That's not what I meant."

"Yeah. Whatever."

They boarded a trolley after several skeletons descended it. They occupied the back part of it - which was in the open air - for the sake of not causing other people to get suspicious of them, because although the young Riveras were disguised, attentive eyes could still see through them.

The trolley began soaring higher and higher until it reached the peak point of the zip line. While the sight was just like the one Rosa had been blessed to see less than an hour before, she still couldn't help but marvel at the resplendent, breathtaking cityscape as they passed numerous buildings that topped one another.

Death wasn't the way she'd imagined it as a young child, forlorn and hopeless. It was fuller of life than life itself sometimes was, vibrant and flamboyant.

Héctor was sitting on the railing, casually plucking the strings of the guitar, frowning in concentration when bungling one of the notes. He grumbled to himself and tuned the guitar once again.

Rosa joined Miguel on his spot on the floor. By now, her toes and heels were throbbing in pain, therefore she'd take advantage of fifteen minutes to rest her feet. They still had a long journey ahead.

"How exactly do you know de la Cruz? Did you two ever, like, perform together?" She squinted up at their guide.

"We used to play music together indeed, chica. I taught him everything he knows." He responded in a pretty show-off manner.

She didn't believe his statement one hundred percent. If what he said was true, then why did he live in misery and poverty when Ernesto drowned in luxury, fame and ofrendas? Had something happened between them?

His words weren't impossible to believe though; every professional had to start somewhere, right? Yet it was simply difficult to imagine Héctor, the boisterous, spirited skeleton, teaching the guitar to someone like Ernesto, a more serious, independent person.

She didn't allow herself to question why they weren't a duo anymore, despite her heightened inquisitiveness. It was obvious that things hadn't ended well in terms of their friendship. They possibly hadn't talked in months or even years.

"¡No manches!" Miguel mocked. "You played with Ernesto de la Cruz? The greatest musician of all time?"

Héctor laughed, shoving the boy impishly. "You're funny! Greatest eyebrows of all time maybe, but his music? Ehh, not so much…"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, sure, muchacho." Héctor closed the subject, clearly fed up with it. "How is your arm, por cierto?"

Miguel briefly revealed his forearm, scanning the small red spot visible under the bandages. "It's fine, I guess. But why did you tell us you hated musicians when you're one yourself?"

Héctor froze for a split second. "I made some mistakes."

The boy opened his mouth to voice his curiosity further, but a blaring roar suddenly made the kids jolt to their feet while the skeleton adopted a defensive position on the platform.

A green winged jaguar alebrije with threatening horns was flying towards their trolley, its yellow scleras emanating rage. Héctor shielded his young charges, ushering them behind his back in a hurry, just when the creature released another deep, vigorous rumble, its long, pearl-white fangs shimmering in the colourful lights of the city.

Héctor placed the guitar in Miguel's arms, his fists balling up when he readied himself.

"Go inside! I'll try to make it go away."

Before any of them had the chance to say anything more, the claws of the creature clasped around the railing in an abrupt collision, the entire trolley staggering violently. Héctor spun around fast enough to prevent Rosa and Miguel from tripping or getting injured. He managed to open the door and get all three of them inside, Dante tottering along, before the jaguar could have got a hold of one of them, whom it seemingly chased. He then tried locking the door, but another rough shake sent everyone to their knees or across the floor.

Skeletons supported each other as well as they were able to, some of them swearing, others exclaiming in distress. The alebrije lowered its huge head from the top of the trolley to peer through the windows upside down, glowering around in search of its prey. The wobbling ceased for multiple seconds, everyone frozen in their spots, waiting for the danger to pass.

"Stand still. Maybe it will go away." A man with a thin moustache said.

"People should learn to control their alebrijes." One of the women mumbled in disdain.

The gripman was watching the scene in utter fear from his cabin, half of his body scattered about.

Adrenaline caused Rosa not to feel the throbbing pain in her right knee when she surveyed the cabin to avoid looking at the creature. Its nostrils were flaring and its jerky breath was steaming the window. Héctor had been thrown to the other side of the trolley, while Miguel's back had met the wall of the outside platform, and his face told her that it hadn't been just a simple contact.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't scoot over to him because the trolley was yanked again as the beast roared and struck it. Her stomach rose in her throat when the door they'd used to stumble inside burst open and the guitar slipped from Miguel's fingers.

"MIGUEL, NO!" She sharply bellowed when he extended his arm to catch the instrument, only for his body to slide on the outside platform after another judder.

Rosa crawled towards the exit, holding onto the built-in seats and metal rods for support until she managed to reach the balcony. Miguel screeched, his back being pressed against the wall while the alebrije had its talons around his chest and shoulders. Rosa only had time to register the view before the creature's other talon wreathed around her midriff, the claws slightly digging into her sides. She shrieked when they were both hauled off the trolley, which shook one final time when the alebrije took off, roaring in victory.

Rosa peeked back, where Héctor was now standing on the platform with wide horrified eyes.

"¡Prima, mira!" Miguel pointed to a long string of papel picado that they were heading towards. "We could grab it and slide down."

It was crazy, but it was the only way to escape this beast, which could have been sent by their great-great-grandmother herself to bring them back, judging by the way it had been so focused on catching them. How it had located them was a mystery.

"Alright!" Rosa consented. "On one… two… THREE!"

They grappled the papel picado, the strings leaving sore marks on their palms. Fortunately, their strength was enough to make the alebrije lose its grip on them, and they both glided down to the ground, landing with minor scratches.

Miguel was the first to get back on his feet, and he wrenched her along into a narrow alley that wasn't wide enough for the creature to land on. They yelped, stumbling back when it clawed between the walls, scratching the paint off, and made futile attempts to reach them from above. Nothing worked, so the alebrije was left roaring and pacing about furiously.

"That is one angry panther!" Miguel covered his ears to muffle another roar. "Come on! Let's move! Hopefully, we'll meet Héctor at the end of the trail."

He made sure the guitar hadn't been busted in any way.

The young Riveras followed the dark path of the alley, their fingers intertwined tightly as they trekked past windows and doors.

"Miguel, wait!" Rosa held him back when they almost reached the end of the alley. "What if the alebrije is waiting for us to come out? Come to think of it, it's strangely quiet here."

"You're right." Miguel realized.

On cue, some purrs resonated through the air, before said feline came into their line of vision where the alley suddenly expanded vastly to form a large area. It didn't notice them, but they still glued themselves to the walls, hoping that the shadows were enough to conceal their silhouettes.

A bony arm stroked the top of the alebrije's muzzle and Rosa stretched her neck to see who it was.

Her blood ran cold.

Their oldest ancestress spoke to her pet in a grave voice: "They're here, aren't they, Pepita?"

Pepita pointedly gestured with her head in their direction. Imelda took a few steps forward, her glare being the most intense thing Rosa had ever been subjected to.

She didn't remember the last time she'd experienced such an adrenaline rush.

She dashed in the opposite direction before Miguel's strangled "Run!" left his mouth, but came to an abrupt halt when all the other deceased Riveras rose from the dark to cut off their path.

"¡Miércoles!" Rosa swore under her breath.

"There's nowhere to run, mijos." Mamá Imelda approached them, her heeled boots clanking on the pavement, her half-illuminated face giving her a threatening aura.

Miguel scooted away, his gaze darting between her and the rest of the family. He clutched the precious instrument to his chest as if Imelda could destroy it with her fierce glare. If looks could demolish, then that surely would have already happened, Rosa thought.

Their grandmother's glare lessened to a warm motherly gaze.

"Miguel, give me the guitar."

"Never!" He spat out with venom.

There was terror in his voice, but also so much bravery.

Imelda frowned. "Rosa, you're his age. Tell him to stop this madness and let's send you home."

Rosa's blood boiled and she was certain that her face had become red under the improvised make-up. They still hadn't grasped that she'd chosen Miguel, they still thought that she was invested in their stupid, stupid rules. They still believed that she was their perfectly obedient descendant.

That era had been over the moment she'd followed her cousin after he'd escaped them.

Miguel was looking at her, and for a moment, she was afraid that she'd notice the fear of betrayal in his eyes. But no. His gaze was determined, a stubborn defiance rising with the sly grin on his face as if he were saying You tell them, prima.

"No." Rosa declared with a firm jut of her chin, her equally intense gaze narrowing into Imelda's one.

"Mija, please understand." Rosita gingerly said, reaching out to them. When they backed away, she stopped, her face mirroring everyone else's sad ones.

"There is nothing to understand, Tía. I have chosen Miguel. He is my family more than you all are, so I don't see what your problem is." Rosa jabbed with cold sarcasm.

"And why aren't we as important to you, Rosa?" Victoria's frown diminished, her brow ridges curving upwards instead.

Rosa let out a slow breath, aware of the many pairs of eyes heeding her.

"Maybe I've never shown it, but I love music just as much as Miguel. I've kept this passion a secret for years just to please everyone because I thought that you'd love me less if you had known about it. But a year ago, I finally mustered up the courage to try to follow it. And what better ally could I have found other than my one and only cousin?"

She smiled warmly at Miguel, who returned the gesture, before continuing with blade-sharp honesty: "He's helped me so much, and I was blind to everything he did for me. And I hurt him."

She studied their faces, which were ranging from shock, pity, sorrow and amazement.

"My best friend, mi hermanito, and I hurt him. Because I was estupida enough to choose the freaking rules over his trust! Just like you are doing right now, Mamá Imelda."

Imelda's body went rigid with strain. Rosa sniffled, her eyes swimming in tears hard to hold back. She hadn't realised how badly she'd needed someone to listen to her grief.

"I will not allow a rift to expand between mi primo and I ever again, let that be clear," she voiced in the most authoritative way she could. "You have no idea what we've been through, and if keeping our happiness means running away from you through the entire Land of the Dead, then so be it."

She grasped Miguel's hand before any of the adults had the chance to react to her confession, and busted through a door on their left, quickly locking it behind them.

"Nice speech," Miguel nudged her before turning serious. "Thank you, Rosa."

"Anything for you, Miguelito."

The dead Riveras banged on the door and windows, trying the knob in vain.

"Mijos, let's talk this out." Rosita bellowed.

"We only want what's best for you." Felipe said.

There were more entreaties, but neither of the kids heeded them as they searched the dark, empty area for something useful. Not finding anything, they entered through another door, the room on the other side reeking of decay. They coughed. There were no windows here, but another door was their only escape.

They passed through multiple connected rooms until they reached some sort of garage, judging by the rows of mechanical utensils hanging on the walls and the few small rusty cars.

"Rosa, look!"

A scooter was propped against one of the walls, calling out to them. Even though it was still dark, it didn't look as ruined as the other vehicles.

"Hold this!" Miguel pushed the guitar in her arms, approaching the scooter. "Oh, great! It still has a key!"

"Miguel, you don't know how old–"

Rosa swallowed her words when he magically managed to start the scooter, the small engine roaring to life and filling the room with an incessant smell. Miguel cheered.

"How did you know how to start it? We don't have a scooter at home."

"No, but Abel's friend José does. Abel once took me to see it and José gave me a ride."

Rosa rolled her eyes. "When we get back home, I'll beat my brother for showing you that. And his friend."

"Now you sound just like Abuelita. But it's helping us!" Miguel argued. "And why are you so afraid? Nothing happened."

"Maybe, but these things are dangerous."

"Says the person who glided on a zip line tens of feet in the air with no gear." Miguel smirked when he grasped a thick metal bar and placed it in the small opening between the ground and the retractable door of the garage. "¡Arriba! ¡Ayúdame!"

Rosa pulled onto the handle of the door, and they strained to get it open. When the door was finally out of the way, they boarded the scooter with Miguel at the handle.

"Hold on tight to me, prima. This is gonna be one heck of a ride."

She snaked one arm around his midriff, the other clutching the guitar.

"Here we go!"

They hit one of the cars behind, leaving a mark onto its front.

"Sweet skills you have there, Miguel." Rosa teased.

He sighed in annoyance, laughing when he revved all of a sudden and Rosa yelped, grasping his hoodie. They exited the garage, leaving the set of abandoned buildings and their family behind and inhaling the fresh air.

"I hope they won't be too mad," Rosa mumbled sadly, peering back at the alley before Miguel rounded a corner, following the zip line of the trolley that headed to Plaza de la Cruz.

"All I hope is that they know how much we love them," he wiped the corner of his eye.

A/N:

I appreciate you reading!

You may have guessed that I included the deleted scene where Pepita attacked Héctor and Miguel while they were in the trolley. Of course, I changed it a little bit and added my own thing. I honestly felt like the director of an action movie while writing most of this chapter.

But, as you may have realized by now, no chapter of this story is free of a little - or of quite a lot of - angst. Obviously, Miguel has some resentment mainly towards Elena at this point, and Rosa can't blame him.

What do you think? Do you believe Miguel will like making shoes or not? I think he does in canon, and I have my own ideas, but what are your headcanons?