Update: 4/1/2019- Weird date to post this, but chapter 4 IS nearly complete, I just have a bit longer to go on it before I begin proofreading and then I'll upload it!

I appreciate everyone's patience with me and for not giving up on this fic! I also have a one-shot coming up soon, as well, for an extra treat! :) Thank you!

Holy impala, this chapter sure ran away on me! :0 I didn't intend for it to get as long as it did but, since 6th grade English, I've had the habit of writing more than I need to! I just had so many things planned out for this chapter and was so excited to write them that I couldn't separate it! You've all been sooooo incredibly amazing and generous with your faves and comments, I can't thank you enough! So you get the equivalent of two chapters in one as a token of my appreciation! Again, feel free to correct my Spanish!

ALSO, I fixed a slight error in the timeline because I'm a dummy when it comes to keeping track of numbers. This story takes place a year after the end of Coco, so it's 2019! We're in the future! :0 Papá Héctor is 118 and-a-half and, for simplicity sake, Miguel and Rosa are the same age, though Rosa is a few months older. I'll most likely be making small changes later, I just got tired of editing. I think I got everything as best as I can get it, though! Hope you enjoy! ;v;

The news came as an unexpected and unpleasant surprise to the living Rivera family, who had been in state of panic and fear for the better part of the day. One of their youngest members, Rosa, had been expected home that afternoon after her morning violin practice session, but she never made it back. The family tried not to worry or jump to conclusions, choosing to think of possible reasons as to why she was a couple hours late.

Perhaps Rosa decided to linger around Mariachi Plaza and then got caught up with some of her friends? Then again, if that was the case, she would have called to let them know that she would be home late. Evening was now upon Santa Cecilia and zero calls from Rosa were heard, making her family more anxious and worried.

If it wasn't already before, it was now evident to a frightening degree that something bad had happened. This fear was affirmed when the local police showed up on their doorstep to notify them that a body had been found unceremoniously thrown into a dumpster behind a diner. The cause of death was a single stab wound to the back that was deep enough to show the severed spinal cord.

With Santa Cecilia being a small town where almost everyone knew one another, it was quick to deduce Rosa's identity.

Being the most affected by this specific detail, Gloria and Berto took it the hardest and were beyond distraught. While Luisa and Enrique consoled his wife, Berto demanded to know who had done such a despicable thing to their baby girl with his mother backing him up while waving her chancla in the authorities' faces.

Undaunted, the police said that information was unavailable to them at the time and that some samples were presently being taken in for further investigation. They had reason to believe foul play was involved and also suspected a more heinous crime to be a possible motive, though that part they wouldn't know for sure until the lab results came back. The family would be allowed to claim Rosa's body after the autopsy was complete.

To say the Riveras were outraged would be the understatement of the year. They were widely known to be a very tight-knit group and anyone who dared to mess with either one of them would soon be at the mercy of a large clan of vindictive shoemakers. They wanted immediate and punitive action and the police had assured them that they were going to be working nonstop on the case and that, should they be located and apprehended, the perpetrators would be facing heavy charges...possibly even the death penalty.

Elena was more than willing to go searching for the culprits herself, her shoe in hand but had been highly advised not to or she would be charged with interfering with the investigation. The police bid the family farewell but not before promising to keep them updated with any future leads or results of the lab tests.

This left the Riveras with their only options: waiting and planning a funeral. The second would have to come later, though, for no one was mentally or emotionally ready to handle such a grievous task just yet.

Elena busied herself in the kitchen to prepare dinner, her anger masking her sorrow. Cooking was her usual go-to stress relief, but the pain was too deep to be distracted from, especially when she would have one less mouth to feed.

When it came to her loved ones, Elena could be very malicious towards anyone who threatened or did them any harm but even if she did march right out those doors to deal with her granddaughter's murderers, it would not bring her back.

Plus she couldn't leave her family during such a tragedy; it was not the Rivera way and who was she to break a five generation long tradition about sticking together during hardships? So the next best thing was seeing to that her family had nourishing home-cooked meals to keep their strengths up. They were going to need all they could get if they hoped to get through this.

Gloria was taken to her and her husband's bedroom by Luisa and Carmen while Franco, Enrique, and Berto discussed funeral arrangements in the living room. The front door opened and Miguel stepped inside along with his primos, Abel, Manny, and Benny. The four of them had spent the day having some quality time together; their laughter signified that they had much fun.

Their merriment subsided once they noticed the solemn atmosphere and grim faces of their relatives. Something was wrong. The usually energetic and loud twin toddlers became uncharacteristically quiet when they realized this and ran over to their papá, who immediately scooped them up into his arms; holding them with anguished desperation as he started crying.

Regardless of not knowing the reason why he was so upset, his sons' eyes welled up and they hugged him back as best as they could with their tiny arms. They did their best to clear away his incessant tears all the while telling him that it was okay and that they loved him so much. This only made Berto cry harder and hold them tighter. Miguel and Abel looked to their abuelita for an explanation with racing hearts and lumps in their throats.

Elena shoved aside her animosity for the cabrons that took away the tender, young life of her dulce bebita so she could prepare herself to tell her grandsons the difficult truth. It only became harder when her Miguelito asked where Rosa was. Berto stood, Manny and Benny still in his arms, and hurried out of the room.

Enrique had a feeling that his older brother didn't want to be around to hear about his daughter being murdered a second time. Miguel and Abel were even more uneasy and confused. Franco sat them down on the couch then stood behind it while grasping their shoulders comfortingly. With Enrique's assistance, Elena brought her grandsons up to speed on Rosa's death.

Their reactions were drastically different from each other's. Abel cried out in angry denial as he jumped to his feet, startling Franco so much that he stumbled backwards but remained standing. Miguel was lost in a disassociated state, having been rendered silent and feeling as if he was dying all over again. His breathing hitched, his eyes gawking blankly at the floor. He felt like Pepita in her alebrije form was sitting on his chest.

Rosa was dead? Murdered? No, no, no! It…it couldn't be! He had just talked to her that morning! What could have possibly happened in just a few short hours? Miguel was vaguely aware of his father embracing him and talking to him as well as his grandparents trying to pacify Abel, but he couldn't make out any of their words for his mind was too muddled with thoughts about his cousin being gone.

His stomach was tying itself in knots the more his mind wrapped around her being forcibly taken from the living world far sooner than she should have left it…and by the hands of someone who was ruthless enough to hurt a child, no less.

For a split second, Miguel wondered who could be so heartless, but then remembered that Ernesto de la Cruz had almost killed him twice. Not to mention the news often broadcasted horror stories about children from all over the world being kidnapped, tortured, and killed so it wasn't exactly a farfetched concept–more like a hard pill to swallow and every parent's worst fear.

The only small comfort that Miguel had was knowing exactly where Rosa's soul had departed to and who she was with; having no doubts that she was welcomed with open arms, suffocating hugs, a plethora of kisses, and more love than any one person would know what to do with.

He wondered what she would think of Papá Héctor and Mamá Imelda. Miguel knew they would dote on her as much as they did with him, children being their Achilles heel, but he wasn't sure how Rosa would react upon meeting her spiritual ancestors at last or how she would take to the Land of the Dead's exquisite and exuberant nature or about becoming a permanent inhabitant. Miguel could only hope that his dead family was helping her the best that they could.

Of course, even being privileged with the sacred knowledge of the existence of his ancestors and the underworld did little to lessen the pain of losing someone he saw as a big sister for most of his life. Miguel could only imagine how Abel was feeling. As far as he can remember, his oldest cousin had been very protective of his baby sister.

He chased away many boys that dared to even look in her direction, much to her annoyance. This only worsened once she turned 13 and started experimenting with dating. While the two quarreled as any sibling would do, Abel and Rosa still had a tight bond and would defend the other fervidly when they needed to. Overprotectiveness was a proud Rivera trait, after all.

Despite these happy and somewhat amusing memories, Miguel couldn't shake off the gruesome reality that Rosa's death was caused by the cold-blooded hands of someone–or some people–and it left him feeling rather ill and dizzy. So he silently excused himself to his room to try to get a bit of rest before dinner.

His father and grandparents didn't protest.

Oh his way down the hall, Miguel noticed that the door to his prima's room was cracked; light seeped through the slight gap, telling him that someone was in there. He cautiously approached and peeked inside. He saw his Tío Berto sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed while holding what looked like a weathered brown tabby cat stuffed animal.

Manny and Benny must have been given to their mother before Berto had decided to come in here. Had they been told the news, as well? How had they taken it? Miguel remembered that they had been pretty upset when Mamá Coco had passed, but who knows how they were handling the loss of their sister?

Miguel's heart clenched when he heard mournful sobs coming his uncle. He slowly pushed the door open further, the hinges squeaking audibly, and walked inside. Berto paid his entrance no mind, keeping his attention on the stuffed cat, of which Miguel realized had been the one Rosa was gifted to by her parents on her fourth birthday.

She had been so enamored by the gift that she dubbed him Señor Whiskerton and practically dragged him everywhere she went. The only time she parted with her favorite toy was when her mamá washed him for her, only for him to get dusty hours later. As she grew older, Señor Whiskerton became a mere object of nostalgia that she kept tucked away on the corner of her bed where he would be safe from any danger of getting dirty or torn.

Miguel sat close to Berto and nuzzled him. This time his uncle acknowledged his nephew and set Señor Whiskerton on his lap before embracing Miguel just as tightly as he had with his sons moments ago.

This was how Elena found them minutes later when she was gathering her broken family for dinner, her heart aching when she heard their crying and reassurances to each other that they'll get through this like always. When everyone was seated around the large table, they tried hard not to think about there now being two vacant chairs.

Héctor had to wonder if La Muerte was in an exceptionally bad mood that day. The simple task of taking Rosa home was proving to be more difficult than he imagined. The run-in with Gustavo was the only obstacle he was hoping to come across but, of course, things for him never seem to go as planned.

Still, he was not going to let this particular interference stop him. So, pretending as if he hadn't just heard the voice that felt like a hot knife stabbing through his heart, Héctor pressed on while securing his hold on his precious cargo. He briefly took notice that the teenagers had taken off somewhere, which encouraged him to pick up the pace. Clacking bare bones on the cobblestone followed him.

Héctor growled inwardly, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, come now, Héctor. Don't be like that. It's been a while since we last saw each other, after all. I just want to talk. We are still best friends, are we not?"

This did it for the young musician. He froze dead in his tracks, mentally apologizing to his granddaughter for jostling her, and whipped around to point an accusative finger at the condemned fraud.

"We stopped being best friends the night you murdered me and stole my songs, Ernesto!" he snapped, chest heaving and eyes blazing. "I have no desire to ever talk to you, especially after what you did to Miguel!"

Now that he was face-to-face with the 122-year old former celebrity, Héctor visibly cringed upon seeing just how drastically different Ernesto appeared since the last he had saw of him. Rather than a glittering, stark-white mariachi uniform, he wore tattered rags that hung over his broad skeletal frame and a filthy, holey cloak.

His feet, now lacking the polished pristine boots, were bare and tarnished with muck and dirt. His once suave, proudly maintained, and expertly styled black wig was disheveled with a thick layer of oil coating it, giving it an overall wild and wilted look to it. It clung crookedly to his malformed skull, which was the most unnerving thing about him.

Most of the left side was caved in with chunks either missing or sloppily glued in place. The eyeball on that side threatened to pop out as it bulged in its misshapen socket. His mouth was cracked into a Glasgow grin with his jaw threatening to detach at any given moment.

Smaller cracks decorated the other half of Ernesto's face, marring the once ornate, silver treble clef and forte note markings on his cheekbone and chin. Héctor could see a few more cracks that spread across the vertebrae of his neck. A couple of ribs that peeked out from underneath the cloak were fractured in various places while some were missing altogether.

It would appear that the bell had done more damage than Héctor could have hoped. He smirked smugly.

"You're not looking so well, Ernesto. The life of a vagabundo really does not suit you."

Ernesto's eyes darkened, though all intimidation was ruined by the ridiculousness that his popping eyeball presented.

"It's your fault that my reputation is ruined for eons to come, Héctor! Yours and that…that snotty hijo de puta grandson!" he snarled.

Now it was Héctor's expression that turned thunderous.

"I would take care in choosing your next words carefully, if I were you," he warned. "That's my great-great grandson and great-granddaughter-in-law you're talking about. I will not let you get away with insulting them or anyone else in mi familia."

Ernesto rolled his eyes, his bad one more or less rolling loosely on its own, and snorted apathetically.

"You were always the soft one, Héctor. It is little wonder that you would never have made it in the music business without me. I had what it took to be assertive so that I wouldn't be pushed around or taken advantage of. I knew what it took to draw in crowds and put on a performance that would be talked about for generations!

I even had the chops to act and do my own stunts. All you knew how to do was write songs and play guitar. Unfortunately, my delusional amigo, those would have only taken you so far and wouldn't have helped you sustain a living for your family for long. Just look where it got you."

"Where, killed by my childhood friend whom I saw as a brother? Shunned by my own family, leaving me unable to cross the bridge for 96-years, making my afterlife a living–" Héctor's eyes flicked to Rosa for a second, "–heck and putting me in the claws of the Final Death? Yeah, you're a true amigo!" Héctor spat with dry sarcasm.

Ernesto was about to snark back when a mewling sound interrupted him. Héctor instantly shifted his focus to his tataranieta…something his ex-partner was not happy about. Any attention diverted from him made his temper flare.

Héctor simply ignored him as he paced around in a small circle while rubbing Rosa's back soothingly. His deep, fatherly voice whispered consolatory words in hopes of chasing away her terrorizing visions. It worked almost miraculously for her trembles lessened. She wrapped her arms around his neck more securely, sniffling.

Ernesto was watching the scene with sheer revulsion.

"You've taken to babysitting sniveling, wayward orphans, now?"

Héctor's hold became more protective and he shot a sharp glare at him. "She's not an orphan. She has a family that I am trying to get her back home to."

"How responsible of you to do so by carrying her through one of the most dangerous parts of the city."

"It's not like we had much of a choice."

"Papá Héctor, who are you talking to?"

Rosa's visions waned, allowing her to catch the tail-end of their conversation. She lifted her head, the hat falling away from her face, and twisted her upper body around to see who their company was. She squinted as she tilted her head curiously, trying to place a name to his face that, despite being horrendously malformed, seemed vaguely familiar to her.

""Papá"?" Ernesto grimaced. "You mean to say you have another brat that's related to you? The one was bad enough." He noted the violin case. "And I suppose she wants to be a musician, too," he added sardonically.

It was then that he realized something far more interesting about the girl. She was a skeleton. The slasher smile that made his scarred mouth even more unsettling chilled Héctor to the core.

"And by the looks of it, fate wasn't too kind to her. How…unfortunate. What's your story, chica?"

Ernesto approached, leaning uncomfortably close to Rosa while reaching a hand out to cup her chin. Her flinching at the unfamiliar touch spurred Papa Wolf Héctor into backpedaling a few steps while fixing the other man with a glare that could freeze water.

"Don't talk to her and definitely don't touch her!" he hissed. "What happened is none of your business. She's been through too much today and I only want to get her away from here and home where she'll be safe!"

Ernesto calmly backed off, holding his hands up, faux sympathy etched on his features and in his voice. "Of course, of course. This is no place for a mere child, so I understand completely."

At that moment, Rosa's face lit up with recognition, finally placing Ernesto's identity from her memory of his statue that had once stood tall in the center of Mariachi Plaza. With sudden courage that manifested from her hatred towards the once worshipped musician spawned from the tales Miguel told about his duplicity and evil deeds, she squirmed out of Héctor's arms, despite his protests. Rosa had him hold her violin case as she bravely approached Ernesto, giving him a scrutinizing look.

"You're Ernesto de la Cruz, aren't you?"

The man in question glowered at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes as he straightened to his full height while clenching his fists. Héctor worriedly hovered very close behind his granddaughter, ready to pull her away should the larger skeleton try anything to hurt her.

"I am. What's it to you?"

Rosa didn't respond. Instead, she just pursed her lips, simply nodded at the confirmation, and nonchalantly turned around, confusing both adults. Then, with lightning speed that caught them off guard, she took off her shoe and, with a well-aimed swing of her arm, whacked Ernesto's skull. It spun around so fast, it nearly flew off his neck.

"That was for hurting my Papá Héctor and for trying to murder my cousin, burro!"

Ernesto yelped and stumbled backwards from the sudden attack while Héctor just recoiled with a "yikes" expression and body gesture. Clearly Rosa had inherited her great-great grandmother's habit of slapping people in the head with footwear as well as her precise aim and strength. Héctor knew Imelda would be proud and couldn't help but let out a chuckle, feeling that way about her himself.

Ernesto reached up to stop his head; his loose eye finally popping out of the socket and onto the ground, forcing the man to stumble after it. Rosa and Héctor cackled at the spectacle. After finally retrieving the runaway organ and shoving it back where it belonged as best as he could, Ernesto pivoted and stormed towards Rosa; his fists shaking and his face manic and livid. The teen just relentlessly held her ground and readied to deliver another slap with her flat.

"How dare you, you little puta!" Ernesto reached out for her once more, this time as if he was going to strangle her.

Seeing the impending danger to his young charge, Héctor threw himself between Ernesto and Rosa, his face scrunched up in a fierce scowl. He used one arm to shield Rosa while the other prevented Ernesto from getting any closer. It remained rigid and unrelenting no matter how hard the larger skeleton's chest shoved against it at his attempts to get at the girl.

Oh, how her bones looked so thin and so very breakable…

"That's enough, Ernesto! You will not lay a single finger on her!" Héctor growled.

"No one dares hit the greatest musician to ever have lived and gets away with it!" Ernesto barked, his venomous gaze locked onto the incriminator glaring back at him from the safety of behind her grandfather.

"You never were the greatest!" she quipped. "You had to steal your talent from a real músico and look where that got you: crushed by a bell not once, but twice! Karma bit your sorry butt big time!"

"Rosa…" Héctor softly warned, turning his head to give her a look that said to keep quiet and let him handle the situation.

She was quick to obey. Héctor faced Ernesto again.

"I won't deny that you deserved it and neither she nor I will apologize. You've done far too much damage to my family and to myself for me to even consider forgiving you, Ernesto. Had you complied with reason and had even an ounce of empathy when I got homesick and wanted to leave, none of this would have happened.

I could have gone home to Imelda and Coco where I belonged instead of becoming the most hated and forgotten member of the family. My daughter wouldn't have had to grow up without a father. My wife wouldn't have had to become a widow and form a business to support herself and our child.

I could have met my grandchildren when they were born, possibly even my great-grandchildren. I could have grown old with the love of my life and passed on with her so we would arrive here together.

What's more, the music ban would have never existed. Miguel would never have had to risk his life coming here to get a blessing that would allow him to fulfill his dream–a dream that you inspired, might I add–simply because he thought you were his great-great grandfather. You were his idol and inspiration, Ernesto. You should have heard how elated he sounded everytime he talked about you."

Héctor paused, taking a deep breath to calm his rising anger and letting it out slowly before continuing. "Miguel has watched your movies so many times that he actually taught himself how to play guitar through them. He wanted to prove to you that he was worthy of your blessing by joining a competition, regardless of his life being on the line.

And how is it that you repaid him? By carelessly tossing him away like basura because you saw him as a threat to your reputation! Had you just asked me when we were in that motel room, I would have been more than happy to allow you use my songs, maybe even possibly write more to send to you. Instead you chose to go down a dark path…one that eventually led to your downfall in both life and death."

While Ernesto was looking at him in incredulous silence, Rosa was staring up at her grandfather with astonishment. She never knew he was capable of getting so scarily serious. He seemed like an entirely different person!

Ernesto seemed like he wanted to say something to rebut his former friend's rather lengthy "the reason you suck" speech, but was unable to find the words, much to his chagrin. So he reluctantly shut his mouth into a tight-lipped frown. His eyes darted to Rosa again but Héctor pushed her further behind him and out of his sight. Ernesto snorted.

"You best keep a close eye on your kid, Héctor, especially around these parts. There are some pretty nasty characters living around here with young children being special favorites to them. There's a high market for their bones, you know. Something about youthful energy being trapped in the marrow that can be harvested for various mystical purposes…or so I've heard." Ernesto shrugged indifferently and turned his back on the two.

He smirked when he heard Rosa gasp sharply. Having lost all bravado upon hearing the thinly veiled threat, her hands fearfully gripped Héctor's arm. Héctor felt her shaking and wanted nothing more than to punch Ernesto right then and there.

He refrained from doing so in case it led to a fight that he didn't want to subject Rosa to. So he just furrowed his brows intensely, his mouth twitching as he held back from spurting a flurry of profanity. Ernesto met his piercing gaze with his own smug one before he suddenly started laughing.

"Oh, Héctor. When it comes to your family, you tend to get so overprotective. It's quite…adorable." He sneered, shaking his head.

"Was your plan to just harass us? There's nothing "adorable" about terrifying and threatening my granddaughter. You need to leave now." Héctor demanded briskly.

"Just as well, I have some things to take care of anyway. It's been a real pleasure catching up with you, my friend."

"The feeling is not mutual and we are not friends. I have made this very clear multiple times."

Ernesto made a dismissive noise and strode past the two Riveras; Héctor kept Rosa behind him as he turned to watch him go. When Ernesto got a couple feet away, he paused to look back.

"Welcome to the Land of the Dead, señorita. I hope your stay here is…memorable." Ernesto winked at Rosa before continuing on down the sidewalk, disappearing into an alleyway, whistling his bastardized version of "Remember Me".

As soon as Ernesto was out of sight, Héctor relaxed considerably; slumping over while releasing a heavy sigh. That was one confrontation he could have done without. He felt worn out by it. Rosa's hold on his arm reminded him of her presence and he turned to her in concern. She looked less scared now but he still placed a comforting hand on her cheek while looking her over for any minute sign of injury.

"Are you alright, mija?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." She chuckled. "You really told him, Papá Héctor. Though I suppose I shouldn't have antagonized him to begin with, huh?" She winced sheepishly.

Héctor gave her an unimpressed look. "No, you should never provoke someone, Rosa."

She looked down, feeling shameful for doing just that. Her chin was lifted by a gentle finger. Héctor was looking at her fondly.

"But you should always stick up for your family."

Rosa perked up with a big smile and Héctor grinned back. He then snickered. "That's one heck of an arm you got there, gatita. You truly are your Mamá Imelda's great-great granddaughter! She had done the exact same thing to Ernesto once before, you know!"

Rosa laughed. "I can believe that!" She giggled once more before a troubled expression crossed her features. "Papá Héctor? What Ernesto said…a-about people here kidnapping children and harvesting their bones…is that…true?"

Héctor's breath hitched at the question. He really didn't want to frighten Rosa by telling her the ghastly truth, but he also couldn't lie to her. She had to know for her safety so that she didn't wind up wandering and discovering for herself later on, something he fiercely hoped she would never get the chance to.

"Sí, mija. As much as I wish he wasn't, it's the one thing Ernesto was being honest about. So you have to promise me that you won't go anywhere without me or any one of your family. Can you do that for me, Rosa?" Héctor was practically begging at this point, but it was very important to him to him to keep his precious girl safe.

"Sí, Papá Héctor. I won't go anywhere without supervision."

"Promesa?" Héctor held out his hand. Rosa nodded and shook it with asseveration.

"Promesa!"

Héctor was immensely relieved and gave her hand a squeeze before pulling her into an affectionate hug, kissing her face on several points afterwards.

"Well, we should get going, gatita. We're nearly home!"

"Finally, my feet are killing me," Rosa joked, earning a hearty laugh from her ancestor who ruffled her hair then grabbed his hat from the ground. He put it back on his head before taking Rosa's hand and leading her down the street.

They passed by the alley they had first spotted the group of teenagers standing near and the one Ernesto had disappeared into but heeded no mind for they were too occupied joking around with one another. Had they been more vigilant, they would have seen that Ernesto was still around and scheming with the teens. They looked up as the Riveras passed. Ernesto's eyes trailed after Rosa.

"You know what to do, don't you?" he said to the leader of the gang, who scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Don't you worry about it, Señor de la Cruz. We'll take care of the chica like you want just as long as you keep your end of the bargain!"

"How can we trust him?" asked a second teen skeptically. "He did murder his best friend, so who's to say he won't backstab us?"

"Plus he was stripped of his fortune and fame," agreed a third. "How do you expect to reward us if you can't even get near your precious tower?"

"Details!" Ernesto roared, making them jump slightly. "I'll work them out later but I promise that you will get paid. Just worry about getting the job done and don't ask anymore questions!"

"Fine. No need to get your pantalóns in a twist, vejestorio. But be warned, if you double-cross us, it's not just that chica's familia you'll have to be worried about."

With that and some sneers and mocking laughs, the teens sauntered off, leaving Ernesto alone to briefly ruminate on just how low he would stoop for petty revenge.

The answer was that he was already beyond the sinking point and that he would go further if it meant making the whole Rivera family suffer. He was seizing his moment and nothing would get in the way of that.

Héctor was visibly relieved when he and Rosa, at long last, reached the block the home and business of the dead Rivera family was situated on. It would only take them ten minutes more to get to the house, but they were out of the danger area and things noticeably got colorful and livelier once more.

Rosa's traumatic memories also seemed to be the last thing on her mind, for the time being. She was currently walking with a spring in her step as she happily greeted almost everyone they walked by. Héctor adoringly watched his granddaughter, reveling in her change of mood and happy to see her look so carefree and relaxed, reminding him so much of Miguel.

He allowed her to stray ahead of him, just as long as she stayed where he could see her. Héctor was positive that nothing could possibly go wrong now…only for fate to, once again, make a liar out of him.

Rosa had stopped to admire a row of marigold bushes when she was startled by a loud scream that sounded like a woman being murdered. This was her only split-second warning before something brightly colored and furry roughly crashed into her–or through her, to be precise–and sent her bones flying and scattering everywhere. She heard Héctor cry out her name, but she couldn't discern where his voice was coming from for her vision was suddenly obscured by bright orange petals.

"Papá Héctor!" she hollered, on the verge of hyperventilating from the unforeseen attack and being unable to feel the rest of her body. "Help! I-I can't see anything! I can't move anything!"

A shuffle of feet sounded close by and she suddenly felt her skull being picked up and maneuvered so that she was now looking up at her grandfather's panicked face.

"Shh, it's alright, mija! This sort of thing happens all the time in the Land of the Dead!" Héctor hurriedly assured with a crooked smile.

"What sort of thing?!"

"Being knocked to pieces! Since we're not restricted by flesh or anything like that, we skeletons can easily disassemble and reassemble our bodies!"

"B-but I don't know how to do that! Where's the rest of me?!" Rosa sniffed.

"Eeeeehhh, all over but," he quickly added when she looked horrified at that, "like I said, it's very easy to pull yourself back together! You just have to concentrate! Here, I'll show you!"

Héctor set Rosa's skull upon one of the bushes so that she was still facing him, watching curiously. Héctor then readied himself for the demonstration, which included making a show of shaking his bones out with verbal sound effects and flipping his skull into a somersault before it landed neatly back on his neck, his hat somehow staying put through it.

Next, Héctor's body quite literally collapsed into a pile of bones and clothes; his torso remained upright and balanced on part of his spine with one arm waving at Rosa and the other holding his skull into the air like a showman. Rosa laughed when he waggled his eyebrows with a cheesy grin and tossed her a wink.

Finally, Héctor's body parts clattered and moved individually to their own accord; shifting and snapping together like a 3-D puzzle until he was almost whole again. Héctor replaced his skull before making his torso bounce up to reconnect with the rest of his spine that was attached to his pelvis and legs.

He concluded the demo with a little spin that made his suspender straps whip around, before striking a "ta-da" pose complete with jazz hands and another huge, goofy grin.

"See, gatita? It's that easy! For newcomers it can take a lot of concentration but eventually you'll be able to do it without much effort! Try it!"

"Alright, here goes nothing."

Rosa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure how this whole reassembling thing worked, but she focused on imaging herself being in one piece with everything where it should be.

"That's it!" she heard Héctor exclaim encouragingly followed by the skittering of various objects scraping across the ground. She opened her eyes and gasped as she saw her own bones moving and joining together and rightfully at that!

"I'm doing it, Papá Héctor! I'm doing it!" Rosa was delighted as she watched more of herself connect together.

Héctor was applauding and cheering her on. At long last, Rosa's body was nearly all together. She concentrated some more, willing her body to walk closer and grab its missing piece. It took a few tries but her hands finally gripped her skull so that she could carefully pick it up. Rosa maneuvered it over her neck but something felt slightly off when she set it down.

"I feel…taller?"

"Your cabeza isn't on all the way, cariño. Just give it a quick spin and you'll be all set!" Héctor instructed.

Rosa did what he told her, getting momentarily dizzy and now knowing how a screw felt, then inspected herself to make sure that everything was in order.

"Whoa, that's cool!"

"You did great, mija! You're a very fast learner!" Héctor praised, coming up to pull her into a one-armed hug.

"And you're a great teacher!" Rosa hugged him back. "I suppose magic is also what allows us to do that?"

"Exactamente!"

Just then, they heard a raspy growl; Héctor automatically tugged Rosa behind him as a multi-colored and multi-patterned feline-like creature leaped out from the other side of the bushes, snarling in a cougar-esque way and baring its fangs. It appeared to be hybrid of a few other animals.

It had the sleek, slender body of a cheetah, the head of a fox with long impala horns, and nine, swishing bushy tails. The word "alebrije" rang through Rosa's mind. Miguel had mentioned them being a common sight in the Land of the Dead and that they were responsible for guiding souls on their journeys as well as being spiritual companions.

The stray Xoloitzcuintli, Dante, she had seen often accompanying him happened to be one, though he appeared fairly (ab)normal in the real world. She could only imagine how bizarre his spiritual form looked.

"Easy now," Héctor told the advancing spirit guide as placatingly as he could while moving Rosa back along with him. "Nice kitty…fox...whatever."

"I thought alebrijes were supposed to be friendly?" Rosa whispered.

"Mostly the ones that belong to someone," Héctor responded. "The wild ones can be a bit more unpredictable."

"What do we do?"

"Just remain calm and get ready to run when I say so. I'll hold it off."

Rosa whimpered, hoping it never came to that. The alebrije looked like it was about to pounce on them at any second. She felt her grandfather tense up and prepared to book it.

"Oye! Gael, parar ahora!" A panicked voice suddenly yelped.

Almost instantly, the alebrije halted and plopped onto his haunches, looking all prim and proper and not as if he had just been about to make playthings out of Héctor and Rosa.

The two Riveras shared confused looks just as another skeleton rushed past them and over to the creature, stopping before him while shaking a scolding finger.

"Bad, Gael! You know better than to just run off like that! What did you see this time, a leaf?!"

"Excuse me," Héctor cut in, straightening up to his full height, looking slightly perturbed. "I take it that unruly alebrije is yours?"

Exasperated, the man sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I arrived here sometime last week and he was waiting for me on the bridge. He's been with me ever since but he's been more trouble than he's worth! He's absurdly energetic, I'm assuming because he's part cheetah and fox, which also makes him very speedy and annoyingly cunning. Gael also has the habit of not listening to most commands and taking off after anything he deems chaseable!" At that, the man glared at his furry companion, who just looked away as if he simply didn't care he was being chastised and calmly groomed his face.

"Well, Gael had a little run-in with my granddaughter, causing her to fall to pieces! She's very new here so she's not yet accustomed to how things here work. Needless to say, she was scared out of her wits."

The man gasped, his eyes widening as he noticed Rosa for the first time since his arrival, and quickly started sputtering out apologies. "Díos mío, señorita! Lo siento muchisimo! Estás bien?"

"Sí, I'm bien! It was an accident and my grandpa helped me get myself back together!" Rosa assured him while giving her relative a little smile at the same time. Héctor smiled back at her.

The man sighed, relieved. "Good, good. Again, I'm so very sorry. Gael is too, aren't you?" He gave his alebrije another withering glare. Rosa tried not to laugh as Gael rolled his eyes and huffed.

"I suppose that's as much of an apology as he's going to give us," Héctor snorted.

"He's part cat, what can you expect? My name is Diego, by the way." He held his hand out. Héctor accepted and shook it firmly.

"I'm Héctor."

"Rosa," Rosa introduced herself when Diego offered his hand to her next. "Will Gael allow me to pet him?" she asked hopefully.

The only alebrije she handled were the copal wood sculptures that were sold near her home in the living world so she was quite curious as to what a real one would feel like.

"Aye, attention from anyone who isn't me is just about one of the few things he enjoys, so be my guest, niña!"

Trying to repress her giddiness, Rosa eagerly approached the still grooming alebrije. He stopped when he noticed her coming up to him and raised his head, tilting it as she lifted a hand to pet him; his luminescent amber eyes and broad pupils watched her inquisitively.

His nostrils flared, taking in her scent, and his mouth curved upwards in a mimicry of a smile before he got up on all fours. He then bunted her hand, emitting a low, elongated rumble in his throat, a purr Rosa realized.

"He likes me!" Rosa cheered. She stroked Gael's snout, moving on to pet his fluffy neck and back. Gael's purrs loudened and he moved to rub himself against her, licking her face a few times and making her giggle.

"My wife's alebrije is similar to Gael," Héctor mused, watching the adorable scene before him. "Pepita is a jaguar-eagle-ram mix but her personality is very much the same in that she really only listens to Imelda and does her own thing most of the time. She's also pretty big so just looking at her can be intimidating. Imelda couldn't have asked for a more appropriate spirit guide."

Diego chuckled. "Well whoever said that alebrijes takes after their owners never met Gael!"

The aforesaid alebrije made a sudden grab for Rosa's shin to initiate a game of fetch, but she yelped a protest and jumped away. Gael took this as an invite to try again, thinking of it as a game, which cued Héctor and Diego to quickly intervene. While Héctor pulled Rosa away, Diego gave Gael's nose a blunt smack.

"What have I told you about taking things that don't belong to you, especially people's bones when they're still attached to them?" Diego scolded his alebrije, who responded with another snarky huff before grabbing the arm Diego had outstretched to point a lecturing finger at him and then took off at a speed that morphed him into a rainbow blur. The gust his speed produced blew Héctor's hat off, forcing him to fumble for it and clutch it to his head.

"GAEL, GET BACK HERE YOU…YOU–" Diego cut off his rant with a vexed groan.

Héctor was snickering. "It's a shame alebrije obedience schools don't exist here! That loco guepardo-zorro is much in need for one!"

"No kidding, though I doubt one would help much in his case." Diego then turned to the Riveras. "Lo siento, but I need to get going before he gets too far! It was real nice meeting you Héctor, Rosa. Adiós!"

He nodded to them before sprinting off, waving his remaining arm around while yelling various phrases and some not-so-nice names at his playful alebrije, who could be seen halfway to the next block. Rosa and Héctor watched before breaking out in a fit of laughter.

"That was interesting," Rosa said as Héctor nodded in agreement. The two then, once again, set off towards their final destination.

Héctor let out a jubilant grito once the gates to the Rivera Familia de Zapateros finally came into view. Rosa was shocked to see just how much it resembled the one in the Land of the Living, albeit painted with more outstanding colors. Tears welled up in her eyes but she wiped them away before her grandpa noticed. She didn't want to ruin his mood by making him feel sorry for her again. Luckily, he was too caught up in his excitement to see her crying.

"Welcome home, Rosa!" Héctor boisterously announced as he ran up to the gates, opened them…

….and was then was promptly hit in the face with a boot-shaped projectile.

The force of impact sent him sprawling onto the ground. Rosa gasped and went to help him up but froze and cowered behind the gate as a very loud, very angry voice reverberated throughout the courtyard.

"AND JUST WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, HÉCTOR RIVERA?!"

Rosa peeked inside and saw an older female skeleton with pure white bones and long lashes storming towards Héctor with a fuming glower on her face. She was holding the hem of her purple dress off the ground, showing that she had on the companion to the boot that had been thrown.

Her hair was black with a single skunk-stripe, indicating she had lived a significantly long life, and streaks of purple in her braids. This must be Mamá Imelda, her great-great grandmother. She matched perfectly in volume and appearance to what Miguel had described of her.

Grouped in the doorway to the kitchen and watching the scene were other skeletons Rosa presumed to be her other relatives. Imelda didn't miss a stride scooping up her missing boot to thrust it at Héctor, who had just managed to get back onto his feet, before coming to an abrupt stop before him and continuing with her tirade.

"I leave you to look after the shop while we run errands only to come back and find it not only empty but closed and you gone for hours?!" She didn't have to say it, but Héctor knew that Imelda was thinking he had out on the family again. While technically he had, it had only been for a short while as opposed to years. Still, her undisclosed fear served to produce a sickening amount of guilt in his gut. He attempted to lighten the mood.

"You know how I am with time. We're as compatible as a mongoose and a cobra."

He shrunk as her glare became sharper in the way only she knew how to manage. His wife's wrath was not one to be trifled with. "S-sorry b-but, Diosa, I have a very good reason, I swear!"

The matriarch's eyes narrowed doubtingly but she placed her favorite weapon back on her foot then stood tall and dignifiedly with her arms crossed over her chest. She gave her husband a look that told him she would hear no excuses, which was good since he didn't really have any.

"Well? What reason have you got for abandoning the shop and running off to who knows where?"

Héctor inhaled a deep breath and straightened his back as he removed his hat to give his wife more respect. His eyes flicked from his beloved spouse to the rest of his family who had now emerged from the house all the way and was assembling behind Imelda.

Héctor released his breath saying, "Mi familia, I had been at the Department of Family Reunions earlier to pick up our new addition."

Imelda's hard features softened considerably while the others gasped in alarm.

"Abuelo," Victoria, the eldest granddaughter of Héctor and Imelda, spoke up, worry and a tinge of hopefulness in her voice. "Is it Elena?"

She had been waiting for years for her baby sister's time to join their family, so it broke Héctor's heart that he had to disappoint her. He stepped up to grab her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. With an apologetic smile, he shook his head.

"Not this time, mija. I'm sorry."

Victoria deflated but nodded. At least Elena had a bit more time left in the living world.

"Who is it then, mi amor?" Imelda asked gently, her hands clutched to her chest.

The gate creaked as the answer pushed it open further and stepped inside, looking timid. Rosa gripped her arm and stood beside Héctor.

"Hola, Mamá Imelda, everyone. I'm home."

Aside from Héctor, who was repressing himself from crying and looking off to the side, everyone gawked at the teenage girl with dropped jaws; an array of emotions that ranged from shock, pity, sadness, to grief on their faces. Imelda's arms dropped to her sides. She was the first to find her legs, which were like concrete, so she trudged forward.

She struggled to fight off the tears that threatened to obscure her vision of her beautiful great-great granddaughter that had somehow been brought to them far too early. She met her husband's watery eyes, silently asking how this came to be. He mouthed back "later" and she subtly nodded, reverting her gaze back to Rosa.

She raised her hands, gingerly cupping her granddaughter's face, and used her thumbs to wipe away some loose tears that trickled from her eyes. The smile Imelda gave her was tender and her eyes were soft with adoration, despite how tormented she felt on the inside.

Imelda then wrapped Rosa in an embrace that was pure motherly love and everything good in the universe. "Oh, mi pobrecita bebé. Everything will be okay. We're all here for you now."

Rosa sobbed as she wrapped her arms around Imelda's ribcage, the emotions she had been bottling up since seeing her new forever home finally having an excuse to be unleashed.

"Shh, mi mariposita. Shh."

Victoria and the others joined around the two, forming a giant group hug. Héctor was the sole observer with a swelling heart. He couldn't have asked to be part of a better family. The family broke away a few minutes later, Imelda moving to stand next to Héctor. She interlocked her arm with his and rested her head against his shoulder.

The others lined up in a semi-circle around Rosa, eagerly awaiting their turn to greet her. Rosita was first, enveloping the adolescent in one of her famous bear hugs and complimenting her markings, tickled that one of them was a rose. Rosa also found out that she had, indeed, been named after her great-great aunt. After another crushing hug, Rosa was passed onto her great-aunt. Victoria's hug was much gentler than her aunt's. She kissed Rosa's temple while running her fingers through her hair.

"Welcome home, mi querida," she said lovingly.

"Gracias, Tía Victoria."

Óscar and Felipe were next, sandwiching their grand-niece while speaking to her in their unique way of communicating.

"It is–"

"–so very nice to meet you–"

"–in person, Rosa!"

Rosa giggled, giving them each a peck on the cheek before they released her.

Coco and Julio did not mind being the last to welcome their great-granddaughter, approaching her hand-in-hand. Upon seeing her great-grandmother, who looked just as warm and amiable as she had in life, Rosa was overcome with a new wave of sentiment. She practically launched herself into Coco's arms, crying harder as she held onto her as tight as possible.

"Mamá Coco! I missed you so much! I-I never thought I'd see you again! Everyone else misses you, too, especially Abuelita and Miguel! And…and–"

Coco softly chuckled and rubbed Rosa's back to allay her. "Cálmate, Rosita. You'll get hiccups if you don't. Relajate."

Julio wrapped his arms around his girls. ""We're just happy you're here."

A small laugh escaped through Rosa's sobs. "Me too, Papá Julio."

As Rosa chattered with her ancestors, filling them in on everything about the living world and their living relatives as best as she could, Imelda pulled Héctor off to the side to talk to him in secret. She looked deathly serious. Héctor had a feeling why and felt his throat tighten.

"What happened to our baby girl, Héctor?"

Her husband scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "She didn't tell me exactly how she died, but judging by the evidence on her clothes, I have a pretty good idea." He paused, not looking forward to what he had to say.

Imelda's glare deepened. "Enough with the suspense, Héctor! Tell me what you're thinking this instance!"

Héctor flinched but recovered. Time to rip the bandage off; it'd be extremely painful but quick. "Imelda…Rosa was murdered, but not before she was…raped."

A strangled noise surged from Imelda's throat as her legs suddenly gave out. Héctor immediately caught her, holding her against him as his arms tightened around her. He mumbled tearful apologies, wishing that he hadn't just delivered the worst news she most likely ever heard.

The others were too caught up in their conversation to see what was going on between the heads of the family, which was just as well. No need to initiate more panic and sour Rosa's welcome.

"R-raped?" Imelda was hoping she heard wrong, but the grim look on her beloved's face confirmed that she hadn't.

Her eyes traveled over to her darling descendant, who was currently laughing at a joke Óscar had told her. Imelda took in the missing shoe and the stains–blood not being the only ones–sullying her shirt and pants, causing her feel nauseous and furious. If any of the others also noticed, they said nothing.

"Rosa is extremely traumatized," Héctor morosely explained, looking to where Imelda was. "She may seem fine now but she's been having sporadic memories, which resulted in a pretty terrible panic attack on our way here. It's best if we don't pressure her into telling us what happened.

There are still some missing pieces and these memories tend to leave her in a vulnerable state. Forcing them out will do more harm than good. The best we can do is just be there to offer comfort and support until they pass. When Rosa is ready, she will talk. We should be on the lookout for clues of these memories resurfacing, in the meantime.

Certain things cause them to come but without knowing the full story, we can't be sure of what those triggers are. One thing I am sure about is that older teenagers seem especially troubling for Rosa. Just seeing a group of them is what instigated her panic attack."

Imelda nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "We should let the others know."

"Of course. Rosa is most likely exhausted by now, so we'll set her up in one of the guest bedrooms and then gather everyone in the living room to fill them in."

And with that, the plan was set.

Intertwining their hands, Héctor and Imelda rejoined their family just as Rosa was stifling a yawn.

"Come now, gatita. You need to get some sleep," Héctor said gently, grabbing ahold of Rosa's hand.

"But I'm not sleepy, Papá Héctor," she denied stubbornly through another yawn.

Héctor raised a knowing brow and smirked, patting her head. "Sure you aren't. Venga."

Rosa grumbled but allowed herself to be walked into the house, her family calling out good night wishes after her. Once inside, Rosa was amazed that the house was bigger than it appeared on the outside. With the dead Rivera family being almost as large as the living one, and expanding with new arrivals, it was to be expected.

Imelda watched her husband and granddaughter leave, waiting until she was sure they were out of earshot, before she turned to the others with a set face, though they could tell it was forced, meaning something was seriously wrong. They were filled with dread but complied when she ordered them to gather in the living room for a family meeting.

Meanwhile, Héctor opened the door to one of the many well-kept guest rooms, guiding Rosa inside. By now she was dragging her feet, her fatigue catching up with her at last.

"This will be your room, Rosa. It may look a little plain right now, but we'll work on redecorating later. I hope you like it," Héctor said, gently setting down her violin case against the wall near the door.

Rosa mustered up enough energy to explore her new accommodations. It was a decent sized room, just about as big as her old one, and was painted a relaxing shade of yellow, filling the area with a sense of warmth and coziness along with the small lamps that hung on the walls.

The veil-thin curtains billowed serenely in the tepid night air that blew through the opened windows. Rosa wandered over to one of the two Nayarit dressers that made up the furniture along with the twin-sized bed and a couple nightstands. She opened the topmost drawer and peered inside, seeing various primly folded outfits.

Rosa assumed the other drawers and dresser were full, too. It seemed like Mamá Imelda had the foresight to have clothes ready for whoever joined her family next. However, amongst all the garbs, a bright red one was what caught her attention.

It seemed oddly familiar to her. She pulled it out.

"Is this...?" The thick fabric unfurled when she held it up, revealing to be a small red hoodie with white stripes running down on the outer side of each sleeve. "Miguel's hoodie?"

"It had been accidentally left here during the altercation with Ernesto," Héctor informed. He looked over Rosa's shoulder at the garment; sorrow and nostalgia prominent in his eyes. He longed to see Miguel again, but even more so to hold him.

"I was wondering where it went. He never told us and we never thought to ask."

Rosa carefully folded the hoodie the same way she found it and placed it back in the safety of the drawer, closing it. She then looked down at her own attire, taking care to not stare for too long at the stains.

"I…suppose I should get out of these. They're…kinda ruined, huh?" She attempted at a joke, but it fell flat since it was far too soon for both her and Héctor.

Nonetheless, her grandfather let out a weak chuckle to humor his granddaughter, but it just made things more awkward. He cleared his throat and pointed at the other dresser.

"I believe there are some pajamas in there that should fit you. You can just…toss those ones away once you've changed. I'm sure Imelda or one of the others would be happy to make you some new flats later, if you'd like."

"That would be nice. Perhaps I could even help them?"

"I'm sure they would love that, mijita. Now get changed and get to bed. We'll be around if you need us."

Héctor turned to leave and give Rosa some privacy but stopped, thinking for a few seconds, before he turned back around to scoop her into a snug embrace. He kissed her forehead, allowing his lips to linger for a short while, before he let her go and made his departure, shutting the door quietly behind him. Rosa stared at it for a minute then walked over to the dresser.

She rummaged through it, careful to not mess up her grandmother's handiwork, until she found a pair of pajamas that were in her size. Rosa shed her old clothes, tossing them into a nearby empty wastebasket, and changed. She found the pajamas to be very comfortable and very light, not at all heavy on her bones like she thought they would be. In fact, the clothes she had arrived in had also been considerably lighter in contrast to how they felt before. It was as if the physics of clothing didn't apply in this world.

Another yawn reminded Rosa how tired she truly was. Sleep was sounding so good right about now so she pulled back the thick comforter but hesitated, biting her lip. She headed back to the dresser and grabbed Miguel's hoodie, inhaling the fresh lavender aroma. It must have been washed recently. She slipped it on, snuggling the fabric as homesickness suddenly overcame her, and crawled under the comforter. She cried herself to sleep.

The air was thick with tension. Héctor could feel it from the hallway before he stepped into the living room where the others were waiting with bated breaths. All eyes snapped to him once he appeared; Imelda was sitting in her favorite recliner, the one next to her empty. Héctor took that spot and grabbed ahold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

The others were either situated on the sofa or standing next to it. Victoria was nervously wringing her hands while her mother was doing her best to ease her troubles, even if she was just as distressed. Next to Coco were Julio and Rosita; the siblings held onto each other. Lastly, the twins were the ones standing, sharing worried looks and seemingly having a mental conversation with one another.

"Papá," Coco began, breaking the silence, "what brought our little Rosa to us?"

It was the most pressing question on everybody's mind that deserved to be answered first.

Héctor glanced up at his daughter with sad, weary eyes. He had waited for so long to see her again; their reunion having been one of the most celebrated. While she was 100 years old now, Coco would always be his baby girl and he would continue to dote on her for as long as he could to make up for all those years of her life that he missed.

Upon the realization that his great-grandson, Berto, was going through the same misery of being forcibly separated from his child, his heart ached excruciatingly. It would be decades before the two saw each other again.

"We don't know the full story, but what I can tell you is that Rosa was murdered in cold-blood after she was…raped."

The vile word was like tar in his mouth, sticking obstinately and making it difficult to spit out without feeling like he was going to throw up. He was positive Imelda was feeling the same way, though she was more adept at concealing her emotions. A quick glance at her told him that her mask was close to slipping, though, and that she was desperately trying to remain calm and collected for the sake of her family.

At the appalling revelation, the room erupted instantaneously into despair and outrage; Héctor's pleads to lower their voices were drowned out by demands to know who was responsible and wonderings of how anyone could do such an inhumane thing to a child, their child.

All it took for everyone to finally shut up were a couple of sharp claps from Imelda, whose mask was firmly back in place as she upheld her role of revered leader of the family.

"Keep it down lest you wake up Rosa! Héctor will explain everything he knows so refrain from anymore outbursts." Imelda then gave Héctor a small nod that he returned, grateful for her assistance.

"We do not know who the diablos are just yet. It's very likely that our living relatives are having the crime being investigated as we speak. But with news being a bit further behind here, we might not know for some time…if they're found.

Until then, it's very important we watch out for Rosa as much as we can. She's already been through so much today so she's still very much overwhelmed. She also has a fragmented memory in regards to the details surrounding her death. They come to her randomly in short bursts and the triggers could be anything, so we need to be extra vigilant on whatever those could be, as well."

"Older teenagers are the biggest concern for her. They might seem like nothing to us, but will send Rosa in another panic attack," Imelda added.

"Right," Héctor agreed, "she is to not go anywhere in the city without one of us going with her. Should any one of you specifically spot a group of teenagers, you are to keep Rosa's attention away from them until you can get her a safe distance away from them. Entendido?"

Everyone somberly nodded.

"Are those hijo de puta here?" The question came from Julio, who was holding a grieving Coco.

Héctor shook his head. "Not that I know of." He stood to help comfort his daughter.

"I hope they are or will be very soon," Imelda growled, her expression transforming into a seething scowl, her hands balling into fists. "I want them to pay for hurting my bebita in such a revolting way! People like them don't deserve a chance to have an afterlife! They should be sent straight to Hell!"

"Cálmate, Diosa," Héctor said reasonably. He was rocking Coco in his lap as if she was 3 years old again. "There will be retribution but we need to put Rosa first."

"You're right," Imelda sighed, relaxing a hair. "I'm sorry."

"Your anger is justified, mi amor," Héctor assured, with an understanding smile.

"Do you think Rosa will need therapy?" Victoria questioned, causing every pair of eyes to be directed at her. "None of us has ever experienced this sort of thing before and like Papá Héctor said, Rosa is very much afflicted by it. We might be able to help her emotionally, but there are still the mental scars to worry about. Short of books, we don't exactly have the means necessary to help her with those. There's also the concern about phantom pains."

Héctor knew Victoria was undoubtedly right. His stoic granddaughter was always one to get straight to the point, unafraid to be blunt. He admired that about her for she was so much like Imelda in that way.

But truth be told, he was very concerned about putting Rosa through any therapy. It wasn't about not being able to afford it–that they could do, no problem–it was about the uncertainty.

Would a therapist really be able to help Rosa overcome her fears? Would they understand her triggers and the overall emotional, physical, and mental impact they have on her? Or would they try to make her feel insignificant by telling her that things happen for a reason?

Not to mention it would very likely force Rosa into going back to that nightmarish time and coerce her into recounting details that she has yet to recall. Héctor had far too many concerns for him to be comfortable with just the thought of therapy, even if he knew that it was supposed to be a good thing and that it helped many people.

Call him old-fashioned but he would much rather have Rosa be helped out by her family than some stranger. But the decision was not his to make.

"It should be up to Rosa whether or not she wants to undergo therapy." Héctor responded decisively. "We'll discuss it with her when, and only when, she's ready."

The others seemed content with this answer and got up to go about their evening. Óscar and Felipe headed into the workshop to work on their latest design for a shoe that had been approved by Imelda a few days ago.

Héctor helped Coco to her feet, allowing Julio to escort her to their room, and then sat down in his chair. He grabbed Imelda's hand again, not just to help anchor her but himself, as well. Rosita cheerfully informed that she was going to start baking some special sweets to welcome Rosa once she awoke.

Héctor and Imelda knew that wasn't the only reason why she wanted to work in the kitchen; cooking was Rosita's way of handling grief. Food always seemed to help people feel better and, as the designated family chef, she was determined to lift spirits with her delicacies.

Dinner had been forgotten due to the circumstances, but it was alright. Skeletons didn't necessarily have to eat or withhold scheduled meals. The Riveras enjoyed doing so simply because family meals were a treasured tradition carried over from their previous lives that allowed everyone to be together in one place to build and strengthen ties.

Victoria told her grandparents that she was heading off to the library to check-out some psychology and childcare books, just in case they needed them, before hugging and kissing them good-bye.

Héctor and Imelda were now alone. They counted this as a blessing for they could finally drop their façade and mourn privately.

They leaned close, resting their foreheads on their interlocked hands while grabbing despondently onto each other with their free ones. Together, they shed tears for the young soul who should have had many, many, many more years of her life left but had been so unfairly and brutally torn away from the living world before she had the chance to truly experience them.

:') Anyone need any tissues?

Also, free cookies to anyone that can guess who I named Diego and Gael after! ;D Gael is a mix of four of my favorite animals: cheetah, fox, impala, and mountain lion, whose mating calls really are like that of a screaming woman! O_o

Stay tuned for more and thank you so much, again! ILU! :3