Chapter 34: No Me Dejas

Julio tenderly held onto Coco as she wept brokenly into his arms. Despite his firm grip on her he was unable to stop the terrified trembling that shook her entire body. Probably because he could not stop shaking himself. He had been there in the audience when it had all happened. Sitting next to his mother-in-law, both in elegant formal wear, he leaned his cheek onto his hand as he dreamily watched Coco dance and sing with her godfather. However, when the final song came on his brow had furrowed with confusion. Having seen the previous rehearsals, he had fully expected Coco to join Ernesto in Remember Me, only to watch Coco slink in between the other dancers and join them as Ernesto sung by himself.

What he didn't expect was for the giant bell prop to snap from the overhead fixture and crash down on top of the escalator, right where Ernesto had been standing and belting out the last triumphant note, leaving behind a giant crater underneath the bell and a fluttering blue sombrero.

While Mamá Imelda had gasped and was frozen in horrified shock, Julio was up and out of his seat immediately dashing for the stage, barely making it past the heavy curtains as they hurriedly slid close to hide the grisly site. Passing screaming, hysterical dancers he made his way to his wife and grabbed her by her shoulders as she sank to the ground in horror. Frantically he asked her if she was all right, flinching back as Coco let out a piercing scream as she stared up to the top of the escalator. Following her gaze he saw several stage hands crowd around the bell hesitantly, unsure of what to do or even how to begin to move the giant obstacle from the celebrity.

All except Héctor.

Julio watched open-mouthed as his father-in-law flung himself across the bell and fruitlessly try to push and then pull the bell off of Ernesto, with Vicente right behind him trying to pull him off the bell. On top of all the frantic screaming and shouting coming from the people backstage, Héctor's rang the loudest at a blood-curdling level. But not the clearest. Besides of few cries of 'Ernesto!' Julio was able to pick up, Héctor's words were an indecipherable mess of wails and screams. His face was horrifying as he strained against the bell and screamed as loud as he could, tears streaming down from his wild and crazed eyes.

Héctor looked like he had lost his mind.

"Papá!" Coco cried out, snapping Julio's attention back at her and trying to pull her away from ascending the escalator. "Papá! Tio Nesto!"

"Coco, no!" Julio pulled his wife to his feet and tried to drag her away. "Don't go up there!"

"Papá-!"

"Coco, go with Julio now!"

The young couple were startled to see Imelda marching over to them with her skirts hiked up and a dangerous, no-nonsense look in her eyes. Julio was amazed that Imelda had managed to force her way through the thick curtains with no issue, but not really surprised. Mamá Imelda was a force to be reckoned with even in the most peaceful of times.

"Julio, take her backstage and away from all of this. I'll deal with Héctor."

Julio didn't need to be told twice. He easily led Coco away from the stage, barely glimpsing as Imelda started to race up the ruined escalator towards her husband and hearing the anguished cries of Héctor fade away as they wove their way back to Coco's dressing room. That was where they had been for the last half hour, with Julio gently holding his wife as she wept as much as she could until she was finally able to find her words again.

"Oh Julio!" she hiccupped and buried her face into his shoulder. "I can't believe it! Poor Tio Nesto!"

Julio gave a sweet kiss against Coco's hot, wet cheek and whispered to her in a soothing manner. "I know, I know. It'll be alright."

"He could be alright, right?! He could just be inside the bell, right?!"

"I don't know, Coco."

"Oh, Julio!" Coco's face shot up and she stared wild-eyed at her husband. "I was supposed to be up there with him!"

"But you weren't-"

"Only because I changed my mind at the last second!" she screeched and dissolved into another wave of hysterical sobbing. "I'm so sorry Julio! I could have died and you would have seen it! And Mamá and Papá! And Victoria would have lost her mamá forever! I'm sorry! So sorry!"

Julio couldn't help the shudder that went down his spine nor the sick clenching of his stomach. With a hard shake of the head he dashed away the image of his wife's lifeless body from his mind and held her closer, as if the reaffirm that she was well and truly safe in his arms. "Don't worry about that, mi amor. I've got you… I'm here."

"I quit."

The whisper was so soft and broken by her trembling voice that Julio almost didn't register it. With a slow blink his brain paused to register what Coco had said and what she had truly meant. "Que?"

"I quit, Julio." With a trembling breath she pulled away from his embrace to look him square in the face. "Acting. Show business. I can't take it anymore." With each word she said Coco looked like she was gaining more strength and confidence. He shoulders squared and she nodded to herself in slow affirmation. "I just wanted to dance, but… It's not worth it. I've wanted to quit for a long time! It has brought me nothing but trouble with the public and estrangement from my family. I'm becoming a stranger to my own daughter! I've neglected you as a wife! And now this! I could have-!... I want to come home to you and Victoria. To Santa Cecilia! Perdonome, mi amor! Por favor…"

This was not the time to be smiling. Coco had just possibly seen her godfather get crushed to death. She was reeling from a near death experience herself. It was selfish of him to feel the euphoric triumph of his wife finally deciding that even though she was an international star, she was just not made for the spotlight after all. But he couldn't help it. As the terrible weight of the past year finally lifted from his chest and seeing his Coco looking at him with those large, watery eyes full of love, his face split into a huge grin.

He cupped her face and kissed her gently on the lips, both of their eyes closing and tears spilling down their cheeks. "Mi Coco. All I've ever wanted was for you to do what you loved. What made you happy."

Coco looked down at her lap, ashamed. "I thought that dancing would make me happy on the big screen… But it's nothing compared to dancing with you in Mariachi Plaza."

They sat there hugging for a few more minutes, Julio kissing his wife and letting her cry out a few more tears as he whispered sweet words to her. Wiping underneath her eyes and sighing deeply to get a hold of her emotions, she nodded determinedly to Julio. "It's done then. As of right now, I quit."

"I think not."

A harsh, no-nonsense voice broke through and startled Julio and Coco from their moment of peace. Theresa stood there with arms crossed and a raised brow as she smugly smiled at her client. At her prey. "You signed a three-year contract with Rivera de la Cruz Productions. You've still got two years to go. And besides that, no one will let you leave without resigning. You are in too high demand."

"The hell with that!" Julio shot to his feet and glared at the pompous woman who had been the bane of his existence for the past year. Never in his life did he ever feel like he could hate someone so much, much less a woman significantly shorter than even his admittedly small stature. But tonight was the last straw, and he was not holding back anymore. "You have a lot of nerve coming here, to face my wife, after what could have happened under your suggestion! She would have been under that bell and you would have been to blame!"

Theresa merely rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. "There's was no way that I could foresee a stage mishap, Señor Magallanes." Dismissing him with a wave of her hand she walked towards Coco and gave a simpering smile. "But I can foresee a great opportunity in this, Coco. You can be the star witness in the tell-all story of the death of Señor de la Cruz."

Coco gasped and her eyes filled with tears again. Bringing a hand up to her mouth, she whispered. "So, he really is dead?"

Theresa paused a little, and if Julio didn't know any better it looked like she was deliberately trying to build up the tension of the situation. "Unfortunately. The bell was raised just a short while ago. Señor Rivera saw the whole thing and collapsed. He's being taking to the hospital right now."

Coco gasped again with fright. "Dios mio, Papá!" Frantically she began ripping off the elaborate decorations in her hair and flung them to the ground. "Julio, we need to go to the hospital now! Papá has been so sick lately! I need to be there for him! Help me get out of this costume!"

Before she could start to take off her jewelry, Theresa roughly grabbed her wrists and commanded her attention. "That can wait, the doctors will take care of him. Coco, we need to take advantage of this! The world needs to hear your statement while the moment is still new and raw. Your exact feelings at this exact moment!"

Coco gaped and sputtered, her mind in turmoil. "How?!... I can't possibly!- Not now!"

"Get your hands off of her!" Julio growled and drew Coco towards him and away from the shrew. "Her godfather just died and her father is sick and in shock! The world can wait for her pinche statement any other day!"

Theresa scoffed. "You have no idea how show business works! The news will be stale by tomorrow morning! I need her statement to give to press and I need it now!"

"Well then why don't you write it?"

The three of them turned their heads to the new voice. Vicente stood there like a towering figure, a welcome presence in this toxic atmosphere. His face was drawn and tight as well as slightly pale with a slight sheen of sweat. He had been there when the bell had finally managed to be lifted from the top of the escalator. He had seen... what was left of the most famous singer in all of Mexico. He was the one who had caught Héctor as he collapsed towards the ground, screaming until his eyes had rolled over white and he became silent.

It seemed like time had slowed down as he had tried to shake Héctor awake. His employers' breathing was slow and stuttering, his lungs trying to hack up fluid even in his unconscienced state. When he was finally whisked away by a medical team with his wife hovering by his side, his brain finally started to work again, and his first thought was to get away from the gory site before he ended up fainting too. His second thought had been to see if Coco was alright.

He wasn't sure why he sought out the room he knew that Theresa had been using as a makeshift office instead of Coco's dressing room. Maybe he figured that Theresa would have managed to snatch her talons on her as soon as possible in order to capitalize on the excitement. He knew now that her husband had gotten to her first, but he was glad he went to that room anyway. For he had seen on the desk something that had been very interesting to him for the past few months now: Theresa's ever-present clipboard with a thick, bulging packet of notes that she was always scribbling into. How sloppy of her to leave something so precious lying around. Despite the horrible circumstances, Vicente Calles was not about to leave a golden opportunity like this to be let go.

So he had picked it up and quickly read through it. And oh, what a prize it had been.

"I mean after all," Vicente said as he held up the clipboard and waved it for them to see. "You've seen to have plenty of practice doing that anyway."

Theresa's smug expression faded into panicked horror and her face drained to a sickly gray color as she saw what he was holding. "Where did you get?!-"

"Coco, remember that interview you don't recall ever giving to that magazine two months ago. You know, where you describe your dream man and what you look for in a relationship that was the exact opposite of your own husband and marriage?" Vicente flipped through a few pages and stopped at a certain spot. "Well either Theresa has taken up the habit of copying your interviews word for word, or this is the rough draft of the whole thing. And when I flip the page here's the revision. And drafts of several other of your other interviews that you never did that made it to print."

"Give that back!" Theresa roared as she lunged for the clipboard. But Vicente used his height to his advantage and easily sidestepped out of the way.

"And you know your stalker Emilio Aguado?"

"He's not a stalker! He's the President of the Coco Fan Club!" Theresa screamed.

"… Your stalker Emilio Aquado? Well here several listings in her agenda to set up meetings with a certain Emilio A. Along with several other well-known Papárazzo with money signs next to their names. Dating back several months! Theresa has been milking you for all your worth, Coco."

It would have been comical to see Vicente leaping and hopping all over the furniture as he dodged the irate manager whilst reading undisturbed through the clipboard, but Coco was staring in jaw-dropped shock as her trust in her manager was well and truly broken and destroyed with every word that came out of Vicente's mouth. And Julio was slowly seeing red.

"Theresa…" Coco whispered in horror. "Is that true?"

Theresa gave up her fight for the clipboard, especially when she discovered that not even her feeble punches could knock Vincente nor the board down, and drew back up straight after catching her breath. Smoothing back her disheveled hair, she tried to muster up any amount of dignity and sway that she might still have. "Coco… I was only trying to increase your star appeal. That's what a manager does."

"But Emilio…" Coco said with a shudder. "And the Papárazzi… They chased us so often. Even in places that were supposed to be safe… Victoria scraped her knee…"

"Fired…"

The growled out word shook Coco to her core. She had never heard her husband speak in such a threatening and intimidating way, nor did she ever see such intense hatred in his eyes. But even if she was a little scared seeing her normally timid, gentle husband look so savagely angry, a part of her couldn't help but feel a little… titillated.

Theresa blinked in perplexed astonishment as the word finally registered to her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Fired…" Julio strained out the word again through tightly clenched teeth and slowly walked towards the woman with fire in his eyes.

Theresa huffed haughtily and crossed her arms. "You have no authority to fire me, Señor Magallanes."

Vicente chuckled. "Oh, I think it safe to say that you are without a doubt fired from not only being Coco's manager, but also from Rivera de la Cruz once Héctor learns what you've been up to. I hope you made a pretty peso selling out your client, your going to need every bit of it once we take you to court."

"You can't!"

"The only reason…" Julio said as he stuck a finger in Theresa's pale face. "… That I don't throttle you on the spot is because I promised my Mamá on her deathbed that I would never hurt a woman."

"I don't mind, querido." Coco piped in.

Vicente nodded. "Si, knock yourself out amigo."

Julio paid them no mind. As he bore down on the detestable woman, he pointed out the door and snarled into her pug-nosed face, "Get…. OUT!"

Theresa backed away like a cornered animal, nervously glancing at all three of them, before bolting out of the room and down the hall like the coward that she was. Julio went out into the hall to make sure she was out of their sights and huffed out a harsh sigh of relief. It wouldn't be the last time he would see her, because Vicente was right. There was no doubt that she would go to court to face what she had done. But for now, the toxic harpy that had been preying on his wife for a year was gone, and his family was safe for good.

Letting his heart rate get back down to normal and his breathing under control, he walked back into the dressing room… And did not like what he saw.

"So, there's nothing that can be done about my contract?" Coco looked up at Vicente helplessly with both of her hands in his.

Vicente hummed thoughtfully. "Well you did sign a three-year contract, and despite what your father might say in your defense there are several teams of lawyers who will make sure that you stay for the full term…" Looking down at Coco's stricken face he paused and then smiled warmly. "But I don't see why you can't fulfill your obligations by just making a few short films for the war effort with several, very long vacations in between. I think you've earned some rest and relaxation, especially after what's happened tonight."

Coco smiled brightly and gratefully hugged Vicente. "Gracias Vicente! For everything you've done, with Papá and with Theresa. You are so kind."

Vicente smiled softly and returned the hug. "Well, it's my job to help the Rivera's. And even if it wasn't, I would always try to help you Coco. With anything."

That's it!

"Ahem, Coco." Julio gritted out, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible. "We should really head for the hospital now. You should get dressed into your regular clothes."

"Ah, si!" Coco stepped out of the embrace and wiped her eyes. "I'll get changed and then we'll leave at once."

"We'll wait outside." Vicente said and left the room to step out into the hall with Julio. With a long, exhausted moan he ran his hand through his hair and leaned against the wall. "Ay Dios mio…I cannot wait for this night to be over. I feel like I aged twenty years just within the last hour… But you really showed that puta what for, eh amigo? I'm really impressed-"

"I'm only going to say this once, cabrón."

Vicente's good natured-grin froze on his face with a little twitch and his brow furrowed. "… Que?"

"Coco is my wife, Señor Calles." Julio snapped out. "And it was not an easy task to get her to marry me, let me assure you. I am not a handsome man. I am not tall. I do not bring in enough money to even compete with the enormous wealth that the Riveras make. And for the longest time Coco didn't even like being in the same room with me. I had to earn her love through literal blood, sweat and tears. And I'm not about to let some dashing pendejo come in and take her away from me. I will fight anyone who tries to."

Vicente's eyes widened in comprehension, and a weak chuckle escaped his throat. "Señor Magallanes, I can assure you that I-"

"I know that in this business, in this city even, that the sanctity of marriage means nothing to big shots like you." Julio said. "But it does to me. It does in Santa Cecilia. And you can ask any person living there that despite all the money, glitz and glamor you can try to entice Coco with… It pales in comparison to the love that I feel for her… I love her, Vicente... Please tell me you understand… that you and her will never, ever be."

For several moments the two men stared at each other: Julio with bold determination, Vicente with wide-eyed astonishment. Just as Julio was certain he would have to try to convince him further that his sights on his acquiring Coco was fruitless, Vicente sighed deeply and nodded sadly.

"Si… You are right, Señor Magallanes. I understand." He placed his hand over his heart and Julio was just a little saddened to see the pain flit over Vicente's face. "Coco loves you… despite my valiant efforts to prove myself to her. Your love is truly one of a kind and from now on… I will respect that and keep my relationship with her purely professional."

Julio sighed in relief and nodded: The man sounded truly genuine. He let his tense frame relax finally and held out a hand towards the poor suitor. "Gracias… No hard feelings?"

Vicente smiled a little and took the offered hand. "Never. All that matters is that Coco is happy and well loved. I wish you and your family all the best."

It wasn't long before Coco finally came out of the dressing room and changed into her street clothes. "I'm ready, mi amor. Let's go… And gracias again for everything, Chente."

"De nada, Coco. Go on down to the hospital. I'll be down there as soon as I can." Vicente kept the soft smile on his face as he watched Coco and Julio hurry down the hallway arm-in arm. It was only when they rounded the corner and were out of earshot that he let himself collapse against the wall, slowly slide down it until he was crumpled on the floor, and break out into hysterical, barely suppressed…

Laughter.

"AY DIOS MIO! HA HA HA!... Pinche idiota!"

Maybe it was the shock and the stress of the day that had finally broken him, as normally he would have never let himself dissolve into such maniacal tittering. But the whole situation was just too funny, and he had played the part of the heartbroken, lovesick fool extremely well if he didn't say so himself. Maybe he should have been and actor instead of getting into business!

Julio actually believed that he was in love with Coco!

No, scratch that!

He believed he was in love with a woman!

"Ay, joder!" Vicente giggled as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Gracias, Señor Magallanes! I really needed that!" Panting as his laughing spell finally passed he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes, his smile slowly fading as the more tragic aspects of the day came back into mind.

Ernesto de la Cruz was dead.

Héctor Rivera was in the hospital probably fighting for both his life and his sanity.

And the fate of the whole company was anybody's guess at this point, with hundreds of jobs on the line.

As he sat in the hallway pondering all these dreadful things that had been thrown at him within the last hour, all Vicente wanted to do was curl up in his bed with a bottle of tequila and in the arms of his beloved Javier.

"Three days have passed since Dia de Muertos, and the country still mourns the abrupt and tragic loss of Ernesto de la Cruz, widely considered as one of the greatest musicians in the modern history of Mexico. Señor de la Cruz had just finished performing a concert that evening when sources say that a giant prop bell had accidentally broken off from the stage rigging above the singer, crushing and killing the singer instantly.

Since then thousands of grieving mourners have flocked to the gates of de la Cruz's magnificent mansion in Colonia del Valle, holding candle light vigils and singing prayers while also leaving tokens and flowers outside. The mansion has also served as the home to his goddaughter and rising starlet, Coco Rivera. Whilst being known as a favorite topic of gossip this pass year in newspapers and magazines, Señora Rivera has surprisingly been keeping a low profile and out of the public eye since that fateful night. It can only be assumed that she is taking this time to mourn as well for the loss of such an important family member.

In related news her father Héctor Rivera, de la Cruz's longtime business partner and songwriter, has been in hospital since that night after being taken from the scene by paramedics. There is no word on his condition, but his lawyer has assured that Señor Rivera was not injured in the stage accident but is instead seeking treatment for an undisclosed illness. We here at Excélsior wish him a speedy recovery and our thoughts and prayers are with him and his family.

Petitions are already being made to have Senor de la Cruz's body to be lain to rest in his hometown of Santa Cecilia in Oaxaca, despite heavy requests to have him entombed in la Panteón Civil de Doloresalongside other famous people in Rotonda de las Personas Ilustres.

At the time of his death Señor de la Cruz was in the middle of several movie projects that will sadly forever remain unfinished, including a biopic about the Mexican Revolution, and was in talks of a deal to lend his voice for an American animated movie with Dis-"

A low, quivering moan broke Imelda's concentration on the newspaper and turned it towards her husband currently occupying the hospital bed in front on her. With a sigh she folded it and placed it to her side, reaching out and grasping one of his twitching hands with hers. She winced at the tremors she still felt rattling slightly through his fingers, as well as the awkward way she was forced to hold his hand.

What with his wrist being tightly braced and strapped to the guard rail of the bed.

His other hand was also strapped on the opposite side, and a large padded belt wrapped around his thin chest to keep him firmly in place on the bed. An oxygen mask was placed over his face and several IVs were pumping him full of fluids and medicine. And despite being in a deep state of sleep, his teeth were clenched tight and his brows knitted into an expression of intense distress. A keening whine escaped his throat that gave into a deep, hacking fit of coughs.

Imelda immediately pulled off the mask and brought a clean handkerchief to his mouth as Héctor coughed painfully, only the straps keeping his body from convulsing on the bed. Finally, with one good expulsion he was able to clear his airway for the time being, gasping as Imelda wiped the corners of his mouth and placing the mask back. As he settled back down, he gently started to tremble again, whining pitifully and tears leaking from his dark sunken eyes.

Imelda sighed as she brought a clean corner of the handkerchief to wipe the tears from his face before placing it down to run her fingers through his greasy, unwashed hair to offer some form of comfort. It only seemed to distress him further and with a broken dry sob he wrenched his head away from her touch, lost in his nightmares.

It was truly heartbreaking to see Héctor reduced to such a state, but she was grateful to see him getting at least some form of rest. Especially after the last few days.

"What is this?!" she had screamed at the doctor, watching on in horror as several orderlies fought to restrain her husband's mad flailing. "This is not pneumonia! What is happening to him?!"

Before the doctor could answer Héctor let out a wail and swung a punch at an unfortunate orderly standing too close by and knocking him off his feet. His arm now free he managed to rip off the IV out and began to frantically scratch at his chest, all the while yelling out profanities and indecipherable words as his eyes tracked at unseen figures and visions. As Imelda was hurried out of the door the last thing she heard was Héctor calling out for Ernesto.

And then for her.

"It's the DT's." the doctor had explained after he was able to calm her down some with Coco and Julio by her side. "Delirium tremens. It's alcohol withdrawal. If he's been drinking for as long as you've said, Señor Magallanes, then it's quite dangerous for him to just completely stop. It causes vivid hallucinations, irregular heart rates, sometimes seizures and, if severe enough, death."

Ignoring the agonized weeping from her daughter and her own chest clenching in grief, Imelda whispered. "What can be done?"

The doctor wrung his hands and looked down in dismay. "Honestly, not much. There are medicines that can be given to treat this, but they would adversely affect his respiratory system. Given his pneumonia I can't recommend giving it to him. Also, there's the fact that he's malnourished, and the shock… All I can do is give him some mild sedatives and monitor his heart and lungs. The rest is up to him, I'm afraid."

They had returned to his room a few hours later to find him as he was now: strapped down and barely able to move, Dios knows that he was trying though. Despite the small amount of medicine that was given to calm him down, Héctor still saw visions that were terrifying to him and he strained to lash out at them. His screams had died down to pitiful whimpers and moans, and tears streamed down into his hair and ears. Over the next few days he was either in this state or a death-like sleep, and Imelda didn't know which one was worse.

She felt absolutely foolish about it now, but seeing her husband going insane right in front of her had caused her to lash out at her daughter. Why didn't she tell her that it was this bad? That he was starving and drinking himself to death, that his cold was actually much worse than it was, and that he was so miserable and broken-hearted that he screamed for her in his nightmares?

Instead of a cowed child being rightfully chastised by her mother for keeping secrets from her, Coco had met her glare dead on and even more. Imelda flinched back in shock at the righteous fury that showed on her daughter's face, and what she had said next had finally knocked her off the high pedestal that she had set herself up on:

"What do you care, Mamá?"

And Imelda had to admit, she was right. Nothing she had done the past few months had shown that she cared about the man that she had kicked out of her life. She ignored every call, sent back every letter and telegram, even dodged each mention of him when Coco would talk to her on the phone. When she had bid a warm goodbye to Julio and Victoria she told them to give her love and warm wishes to Coco when they arrived. But not to Héctor. She just didn't care.

But that was wrong. She did care. She cared about him and loved him so much that it hurt. And seeing her husband now, so lost in his sickness and misery, Imelda couldn't bear the guilt that was crushing her from the inside.

"idiota… This wasn't supposed to happen." Imelda whispered as she locked Héctor's cold fingers around hers once more. "You weren't supposed to do this. Héctor…"

But he continued to sleep fitfully, his breathing hitching and occasionally giving in to more cough fits, and she continued to stay by his side. It was all she could do, now that it was too late.

It was quiet now.

The walls had stopped melting into putrid puddles of gore and maggots, the bugs had stopped buzzing in his head and stinging his flesh, and the monsters had stopped attacking him.

The monsters were the most terrifying though. They held onto his arms and legs so tightly that he thought he would end up breaking his bones in his efforts to get away from them. They had looked human too, but humans didn't have glowing white eyes and rotting flesh. They're voices were low and distorted, filling him with dread despite what the words they said that were supposed to sound soothing.

Señor Rivera, calm down. You're safe!

We have to give him something!

We can't risk his lungs giving out! Just strap him down!

Dios, turn him over! There's too much fluid, suck his lungs out!

It took forever for them to finally let him be, after many terrifying episodes of not being able to breathe and more fits of screaming in terror of the horrible visions in front of him, but he was finally able to break free and make a run for it. Well, run wasn't the best word for how he was able to finally move. Floating wasn't either. The world seemed to dissolve into a myriad of distracting colors and sounds, and he simply let his mind flow with it in a dream-like state.

And then suddenly he found himself finally there.

Back in front of the bell.

With a cry of triumph, he made his way over to it and braced himself against it in a sort of clumsy hug. "Don't worry Ernesto! I'll get you out! You'll be alright!"

And so he had pushed. And pulled. Digging his feet into the earth and straining as hard as he could against the cold hard bell. He shouted encouraging words towards his friend, not letting the lack of a response deter him in any way. It seemed like he did it for hours, for days even, his throat hoarse as he cried out for help from someone, anyone! He'd even accept the monsters help if he could find them. In a last ditch effort he had even called out for his wife, pleading with her to help him even if she wanted nothing to do with him afterwards.

But she didn't come. He could swear he heard her voice whispering to him, but he couldn't make it out no matter how hard he tried to listen. With a broken heart he could only conclude that she was telling him to leave her alone. She had no use for such a lousy husband and a terrible father to her children. He couldn't say he blamed her. He couldn't even help his brother escape from his prison.

He was worthless.

And so, for the longest time, there was nobody except him and that bell. When he couldn't push against it anymore, when his voice finally gave out and his spirit broke, he sat in front of it and softly cried. He murmured apologies to Ernesto, to Imelda, to his children, to anyone he had wronged in his existence. There was no use. There was nothing left for him. Except that bell.

"What are you doing?"

With a gasp Héctor looked up at the new presence before him. At first he feared it was one of those terrible monsters come back to take him away again, but it's voice was not bone-chilling and grating. Rather it was sweet and clear, the clearest Héctor had heard in a while, but the figure itself was… light. A vaguely human shape ball of light that burned so bright yet oddly didn't hurt to look at. If he squinted a little Héctor could guess that its head was slightly tilted in a sort of curious quirk. It was sort of cute, if a ball of light could be considered cute, and Héctor found himself slowly start to relax.

"I-…" he sniffled pitifully and turned watery eyes towards the bell. "I can't move it… Ernesto's under there and… I have to save him."

"Really?" the light said and floated over the bell. Héctor saw a hand reach out and knock against the bell, and it rang out loudly enough for Héctor cringe back with a wince. He didn't like that sound. Not at all. "I don't know. Sounds empty to me."

Héctor gaped at the bell, his heart sinking, and frantically shook his head. "N-no!... He's under there! I saw it drop on him!"

The ball of light chuckled in tinkling sort of way, and Héctor glared at it. "Well, si, you did. I saw it too. But that was a while ago. He's not under that bell anymore either. This bell," it said and knocked on the bell again, the loud clanging causing Héctor to grip his head in pain. "… is hollow. Empty. And is just here to waste your time."

Tearing his hands from his head, Héctor stared wide eyed at the ball of light. "Waste my time?... What do you mean?"

"I mean you need to wake up and face reality, tonto!"

Suddenly the ball of light zipped towards him and enveloped him in a soothing warm glow, almost as if it was hugging him, and Héctor found himself being lifted towards his feet. Once he was firmly standing up the light took him by the hand and started to lead him away from the bell. He resisted a little with a slight whine, his gaze fixed back on the bell, until a sharp tug jerked him away and pulled him forward. With a huff he glared at the light leading him away, gritting his teeth when he thought he could make out a sly smirk flitting across the vague features.

He continued to look back though, watching as the bell slowly faded from view into a white void. Then he noticed that the walls started melting again. His breath hitched a little in fear, terrified that the horrible visions from before were coming back to haunt him. The light gripped his hand tighter, but in a soothing manner, and Héctor managed to find comfort in the light for the first time since he met it. It was then he noticed that the walls weren't exactly melting, but rather… falling into place.

Windows stacked next to each other, light fixtures dotted the ceiling in a straight line, and floor tiles tumbled into place just as his feet managed to touch them. It was then he noticed the pattern of the tiles, the color of them, and the shape of the windows and other fixtures. He had been here before. It had been a long time ago, but he had been here long enough to recognize the way the hallway was set up, and what doors led to what. It was engrained into his memory.

"I don't like this place." Héctor whispered.

"No, I don't either," the light said softly. "But it's where you need to be right now."

They continued on at a comfortable pace down the hallway, and slowly people started to materialize in Héctor's vision. Men and women in sterile white clothing walking past them without even noticing them. Two of them were wheeling a bed down at such a speed that Héctor barely had time to react before they barreled right through them and raced down the opposite direction. The light giggled at that, and Héctor couldn't help but give a shaky smile himself.

But suddenly a thought came to mind that chilled him to the bone, and he looked down at the light apprehensively. "Am… Am I a ghost?"

"Hmmm… No, I wouldn't say that. But I wouldn't worry about that. It'll all be over soon."

That was when the light finally led him into one of the rooms and let go of his hand. Looking up Héctor stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw: It was him. Lying in a bed, his hands strapped tightly onto the railings and his chest rising slowly with breath. And sitting beside him… was…

"No."

The light paused on its way to bed to turn back and look at him. "No?"

"No I-I… I can't." Héctor whispered, his eyes never leaving his beautiful wife's face. "Why is she there? She… She doesn't love me. I can't take it anymore… It h-hurts too much."

"I'm pretty sure she loves you. Why else would she be sitting with you? Look at her. She looks so sad."

Héctor shook his head miserably. "She's just waiting for me to wake up… to tell me it's finally over. That she's moved on… I can't face her… I'm too tired." He dropped to his knees and stared at the floor, all the peace he was starting to feel again being crushed by despair. "Maybe it's for the best… That I don't wake up at all… Ernesto's gone. Imelda hates me… I have nothing left."

His head hung low and tears clouding his vision, he almost didn't see the light step towards him until he felt its warm glow cup his face gently. With a sniffle he raised his eyes its face, or what he could guess was its face, and let it wipe the tears from his cheeks. Then he watched as it raised its hand slightly above his line of sight, and then…

*THUMP*

"OW!"

Héctor reared back onto his rump and flashed a hand up to his stinging forehead, rubbing it and staring at the figure before him in shock. "Did… Did you just flick my forehead?!"

"Si."

"Why?!

"For being an idiot."

With a snarl he managed to get back onto his knees. "I don't need to take that from- GGGNAK!" His head was yanked forward as the light grabbed his nose, twisted, and pulled down hard. Then with its other hand it pulled his ear as hard as it could and started to shake his head back and forth. "GAH! What are you doing?!" he screamed nasally. "Stop!"

"What do you mean don't wake up at all?!" The lighted shouted at him, continuing its assault as Héctor's eyes watered with pain instead of sorrow. "Where is that coming from?! 'Riveras never give up.' Isn't that what you've always said?"

Trying to pry the figure's hands from his face, he glared up at it. "I'm not a real Rivera… I just married one- ARGH!"

"You've been a Rivera a whole lot longer than you haven't been, old man!" the light yelled back. "And you haven't lost everything! What about your children? Coco, and your granddaughter! What about Miguel. Are you really going to leave a little boy to grow up without his father? And who's going to greet Matty when he comes back from the war?!"

"As for your wife, she right there waiting for you to wake up! She can't run and hide in Santa Cecilia anymore! If you have something to say to her, then you make her listen to you! Think about it, you're sick in a hospital bed. At the very least you have pity on your side, right? But don't give up on her so easily, cabrón!"

"All right, all right! Ow! Just let go of me already!"

With one last shove the light let go of Héctor's head and he cradled his face in his hands, getting his breathing back under control and trying to rub away the burns and stings. He flinched as the warm hand landed back on his shoulder, but when no further violence came his way he dared to look back up.

"I know this has been hard on you." The light said gently. "And I know that you're scared. But even if things don't work out for you and your wife, you shouldn't feel the need to give up. You still have a lot to live for."

Héctor stared at it for a few long moments, before turning back towards the bed. Towards Imelda. It was right, she did look sad. And tired. If he woke up now, maybe he could talk to her. Maybe she'd talk to him. Despite his brain trying to convince him over and over that he was done, it was his time, and there was no need to linger on, his heart wouldn't let him. It was leading him back to her. To his family.

Just like it always had.

Damn poet.

With a heavy sigh me slowly stood up and made it to his feet, his gaze now fixed on his unconscious form on the bed. With a new determination he made his way over and paused at the edge. Do I just… lay on myself? With a short snort of laughter he did just that, and was surprised to see his leg phase through himself as he climbed onto the bed. Rolling over he laid down onto his back, stared up at the ceiling, and waited.

…..

And waited…

…..

"Uh, nothing's happening?"

The light shrugged. "You have been sleeping for a long time, and you're sick. It might take a while for you to actually wake up."

Before Héctor could reply to that, he started to feel changes slowly flowing into his body. Ah, this must be it. He started to feel heavier, more solid. That itself was a comforting feeling. He settled back down onto the bed and let the sensations build up through his limbs. He stayed still like that for a few minutes, with his eyes closed, before a tinkling little laugh next to him caused him to open them.

"This is taking forever!" The light giggled. It was such a sweet sound. So pure. Where had he heard it before? "Though not surprising. Even when you were healthy it took forever to wake you up, even when I jumped on your chest in the morning and tried to pry your eyes open."

Héctor brows furrowed in confusion. He tried to lift his head off the pillow to look at the light properly… but found that he couldn't. Slowly the solid feeling of his body turned into a heavy burden. He was so heavy! Too heavy! I can't move!

"W-what?... What's hap-"

The heaviness started to form inside his chest. His breathing turned into frantic gasps as he struggled to get air into his lungs. And now his body started to hurt! His arms and legs cramped and his head started to pound. Behind his gasping he heard his heart beating loudly in his ears. This is bad! This is bad! What's happening to me?!

Then suddenly the light was leaning over his face, and Héctor stared at it with fright. Was this it's plan all along? To trap him in this pain filled husk and laugh at him for his foolishness? He never should have trusted it! It started to lower itself to him, and with a small whimper he clenched his eyes shut and braced himself against... What? Oblivion? Mutilation? The destruction of his very soul? Whatever it was it couldn't be good! It couldn't-

"And don't worry about Tio Nesto. He'll be all right. I won't let him be alone."

….

Tio Nesto?

Héctor's eyes snapped open and he saw the light was hovering over his face. He saw that smile again grace it's face before it leaned over and… gave him a small kiss on the forehead. It was quick and chaste, but it was so warm and sweet, and it slightly soothed the aches that were afflicting his body. It drew back again and stared at him with such love in it's eyes, and Héctor realized with a start of the fact that he could see it's eyes.

They were his eyes!

Her eyes.

"You feel better Papá."

With a choked out sob, reached out towards the light- my daughter!- but found that he couldn't. He glanced down at his hands and saw that they were strapped to the railings of his bed, and no matter how hard he shook or strained against them he could not tear them free. Sitting up was also not an option, as the thick belt across his chest prevented him from lifting even an inch.

He turned his attention back towards his little girl, but she was gone. She had left him. Again.

"Leti!" Héctor cried out, tears streaming down his face as he tried to strain against the bindings once more. "Leti, don't go! Leti come back, please come back! Don't leave me, mija. Please don't leave me again! Please, please, please…"

"Calm down Héctor." A tired voice broke through his weak sobbing, and he glanced up through watery tears as his wife ran a hand through his hair in a calming motion. She began to speak to him, numbly, as if she had been repeating the same things over and over. "It's not real. You're alright. None of this is really happening. She's not here. It's okay, Héctor."

Héctor concentrated on his wife's face, forcing himself to calm his seizing chest and his pounding heart. He listened to her soothing words and slowly the hysteria faded away, leaving him exhausted and light-headed. And as the minutes passed and he became more and more aware of his immediate surroundings, the visions from before slowly faded as well. What had he been dreaming about? There was a light, he remembered. And a voice. It was so familiar. But even those vague recollections of his dream faded into nothingness as well, as for the first time in over three days Héctor was finally awake and aware.

"Imelda?" Héctor whispered. "What happened?"

"…Héctor?"