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Chapter Text

The bus had come out of nowhere. Isabela had screamed. It was too late even for vines. Mirabel felt the pain of the impact, then nothing but blackness and numbness. Light danced at the edges of her vision. Ohhh. Consciousness coming back.

She blinked her eyes open, the wooden ceiling of the house she was in coming into focus. Alive. A bus hit her head on and she was fine. Mirabel let out a breath of relief. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she exhaled. That was different. Maybe she wasn’t fine.

Rolling out of bed, pain lanced through her knees. She slowly stood, realizing her body had aches and pains it didn’t have previously. The accident had injured her, but not bad enough for a hospital.

She felt tired for some reason. Not the physical kind of tired. The kind of tired she remembered having after Antonio’s Ceremony. Desolation, apathy, wanting to fade.

A sense of loss and emptiness that went all the way to her very soul. Depression. She was...so very depressed. She hadn’t felt that way in years.

Mirabel looked around the room, fear slowly replacing confusion. This was Abuela’s room. She wasn’t even in Bogota anymore. She was in her grandmother’s room.

Even after the Fall and rebuild, sneaking in Abuela’s room was still taboo. Only Camilo tried with any frequency. Mirabel would be in trouble if she didn’t get out. Changed or not, Abuela didn’t like people in her room.

On her way out, Mirabel passed a tall mirror. She just happened to catch her reflection. Approaching the mirror, she stared in shock.

“Casita? What the hell is this? Why do I see Abuela when I look in the mirror?” She asked the house, her best friend.

No response beyond a confused shutter flip. Casita was confused. Mirabel was fluent in Casita, even non-verbal Casita. The house didn’t know she was Mirabel. The house thought something was wrong with Abuela, that she was getting confused in her old age.

“Casita, I’m not Alma! I’m Mirabel. Your Vela, remember?” She pleaded, begging for an explanation.

Zero response from the house again.

“Mama?” A voice called from the door, which was still locked.

Julieta. Her mama.

“Mama? Please answer me. Casita sent me up here, she was scared. She seemed afraid something was wrong. I have an arepa. Mama, open the door,” Julieta banged on the door, hard.

Unable to dawdle without worrying her mama unnecessarily, she went to the door and unlocked it. It took everything in her power to not launch herself into Julieta’s arms and beg to know what the flying fuck was going on.

She had no idea what to say now. She didn’t even know what time period this was. The Abuela in the mirror had a lot less grey than she did in the present, Mira knew that.

“Mama, thank goodness! You’re okay! I was worried. Were you getting last minute things for Mirabel’s Ceremony? I know how much you love her, and how high your expectations are for her Ceremony.” Julieta said, shocking Mira.

She’d had no idea that Abuela actually used to love her so much she used to think about her in her spare time. Usually Isa was the one constantly occupying Alma’s thoughts. Wait. Wait. ‘Mirabel’s Ceremony’. It was her own Ceremony tonight.

Fucking hell. She was going to have to watch her door fade a second time. Could she change things, though? Maybe this version of herself didn’t have to go through the trauma she did. Maybe, if she was controlling Abuela’s body right now, she could comfort her little self. Tell her she’s a miracle even without a Gift.

“No te preocupes, Ma-Juieta.” Mirabel said, catching herself and avoiding the embarrassing mishap of calling Julieta ‘Mama’ while in her mother’s body.

“What kind of Gift do you think Mirabel will get, Mama?” Julieta asked, twisting her hands and biting her lip nervously.

Mirabel hesitated. She knew she wouldn’t get any Gift. Julieta wouldn’t like that.

“I don’t know, carina. Whatever awaits her will be as special as she is,” Mirabel said, hoping that sounded Abuela-like, before adding, “Even if she doesn’t get a Gift, she doesn’t need one. She’s a wonder, Juli.”

Julieta’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mama? If Mirabel didn’t get a Gift, wouldn’t that devastate her? Wouldn’t that prove the Miracle is weak? You keep saying we must use our Gifts all the time, to earn Papa’s Miracle. If Mirabel doesn’t get one...that would honestly be okay with you?” Julieta sounded absolutely flummoxed.

Real Abuela would care. Would agree with Julieta that she cared deeply. Not this time. If Mirabel was getting a second chance at a childhood through some weird reincarnation thing, she was making the most of it.

“It would be, mija. I’ve been thinking a lot. Surely your Papa wouldn’t want you to work yourselves to the bone. You cook constantly. Little Luisa had bruises on her back. Pepa is in a constant state of anxiety. Bruno...oh, Brunito...his rats are his only comfort. I’m afraid I haven’t been kind to him,” Mirabel said, trying to address several things at once.

It only made Julieta even more upset. Tears welled in Juli’s eyes.

“Oh Dios. Mama, oh Mama, no. Please don’t leave us. I know we complain sometimes, but I don’t want to lose you-” Julieta stopped, and pulled Mirabel/Abuela into a hug, sobbing into her chest.

“Juli, mija! I’m not dying. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I was just, ah, reading old love letters your papa sent me. I found one from when he first found out I was pregnant. All he wanted was his hija’s happiness, nothing more.” Mirabel wasn’t lying.

Pedro had written a letter that said all those things. Abuela had read it to Mirabel during the rebuild of Casita, saying she hadn’t even remembered that letter.

If she had, she would have acted differently. Knowing how Pedro truly felt. Mirabel honestly doubted it would have changed Abuela’s past actions, but at least it made a good excuse for now.

To her surprise, Julieta sat down in the nearest chair in shock. Tears trailed down her cheeks.

“Mama...do you really mean it? You’ll let us stop working so much? Luisa can-can finally play?” Julieta sounded so sad, and yet so hopeful.

“Of course, mija. I’m so very sorry for taking away mis hijos y nietos childhoods. It isn’t too late for Luisa, though. She can make friends and have fun. Camilo can use his Gift to only play. As long as pranks aren’t involved,” She said, despite knowing Camilo would always prank people.

Mirabel gasped when Julieta squeezed her tight enough to possibly break Abuela’s ribs. It sure hurt! Abuela kind of deserved it, though, so Mirabel said nothing.

“Gracias, Mama. Gracias. Bruno’s Visions...Mama, are you still going to make him give out visions until he collapses?” Julieta asked, sighing, expecting the answer to be ‘yes of course’.

“No. No. Bruno never has to have another vision unless he wants to. We’re all safe. Casita is safe. The Encanto is safe. Mis hijos are safe. There’s no reason for him to look into the future for any reason. And there’s no reason you should cook so much. The town can let minor injuries heal on their own,” Mirabel said, trying to think of wording Abuela would use.

“Mama, are you SURE you’re not dying? This is certainly the most unexpected thing I’ve ever heard from you!”

Julieta was happy. The smile on her mother’s face wasn’t the same tired smile Mira was used to seeing. This was a hopeful smile. A smile of hope for the future.

Did her mama have so little hope back then? All she did was cook. It was amazing that she made time to meet Agustin. Abuela way overworked her, and now she looked like she’d been given a new lease on life.

“I’m sure I’m not dying, mija. Why don’t you tell your hermanitos they can stay home today? Let’s just celebrate Mirabel’s birthday and have fun. No work. I...I really need to talk to Isabela, por favor. It’s important,” Mirabel said, knowing Isa would listen to her in Abuela’s body.

Julieta blinked a few times, still looking concussed.

“I-yes, of course. I will. I’ll see if Mira and Luisa want to help me bake, after I talk to Pepa and Bruno. Gracias, Mami,” Julieta leaned forward and hugged Mirabuela again, tears sparkling in her eyes, “Gracias, again! Isa should still be in her room. You know how long it takes her to get ready, especially for a party.”

Julieta shook her head, smiling almost gleefully at Mirabel. Mirabel tried giving her one of those calm Abuela smiles. She hoped it worked. Julieta hugged her again and left the room, going to find Pepa and Bruno.

“Okay, Mirabel. Time to talk to Isabela. Little Isabela. Brr! Scary. Oh, wait, I’m scarier now! I’m Abuela. She has to listen to me! Hah!” Mirabel chuckled to herself, but remembered the important talk she needed to have with Isa. About her ‘perfection’.

She went to Abuela’s her wardrobe, picking out the elegant maroon dress that Abuela always preferred on Ceremony days. She picked up the black shawl, frowning at it. No. No sadness, not today. It was her own Ceremony. The least she could do was not appear to be mourning.

She threw the black shawl to the back of the drawer, picking out a pale orange one. Mirabel finished dressing, having a bit of trouble with Abuela’s stiff knees and that sharp pain in her heart.

A pain Mira knew wasn’t from anything physical. Heartbreak. Only allowing herself to grieve would free Abuela from the pain of Pedro’s loss.

Finally finished, she looked in the mirror again. It was hitting her that her Abuela was a very attractive woman in her youth. Even now, she was pretty. Mirabel opened the locket around her neck. Abuelo on one side, Abuela on the other.

They really did...look almost just like Isabela and Mariano. How sad that Abuela would base her nieta’s future on something so superficial. Isabela didn’t deserve that. Mariano didn’t deserve that. They deserved to find love, like Abuela herself had found.

Sighing sadly, Mira left the room. It was a small, comfortable room, much like the nursery. She understood why Abuela retreated to her room when she was upset.

Walking slowly, hopefully Abuela-like, past the rooms, she came to Isa’s door. The door-Isabela looked sad. There was no splatter of pollen, torn dress, streaks in her hair, nothing. A boring floral dress, accented with even more flowers.

Knocking sharply on the door, she hoped it would wake Isa. If she wasn’t awake already. She took naps, but Abuela didn’t let her take long ones. Even at 11, Abuela had had her dressing herself and doing her hair and makeup like an adult.

It had led to some...awkward interactions with certain types of people. People Mirabel herself tried to do something about, since no one else seemed to care.

She shook herself, chasing away thoughts of those monsters still residing here. Ugh. Mirabel was so confused and frustrated. If only she could talk to Casita. Or even Bruno. Maybe he saw this in a vision and would help her!

Isa’s door slowly creaked open. The small pre-teen poked her head out, smiling a very fake smile when she saw Abuela.

“Hola, Abuela. I am almost ready. I have to apply my makeup, then I’ll be ready for our walk through town! Today is Mirabel’s Ceremony, so I know I have to look extra perfect. Lo siento that I’m not done yet,” Isabela looked at the floor, as if she wanted to cry.

Seeing her elder sister so small, so vulnerable, so...scared...felt wrong. How the hell could Abuela not tell that Isabela wasn’t truly happy? What the hell was ‘extra perfect’? What did that even mean?

“Oh, Isabela! Mi dulcita flor!” Mirabel knelt, pain lancing through Abuela’s knees, and tugged Isa’s hand until she was in her arms, hugging her.

“Abuela? Did I do something wrong? Why are you hugging me without telling me how perfect I am? You never hug me unless I look perfect,” Isabela’s confusion made Mirabel want to cry.

Abuela only hugged her when she looked right? That was almost worse than simply never being hugged, like Mirabel and Bruno.

Mirabel lost Abuela’s hugs after her failed Ceremony. Bruno lost his Mama’s hugs after his first bad vision, when the person receiving it had screamed at Alma for hours.

Not this time. If this was her chance to change things, even if she had to be Abuela, she was going to do it. This version of la familia wouldn’t continue to grow up living in fear or disappointment. Or forced perfection.

“I shouldn’t. Ever. I should hug you any time. Hugs aren’t reliant on how you look, Isa. You’re mi nieta. I love you very much. You’re perfect the way you are. You don’t have to change anything for me! How would you like me to pick your dress for today, hmm?” Mirabel asked, noticing Isabela quickly nodding at that suggestion.

Isabela assumed Abuela was going to pick a paler pink, or perhaps lavender. She had on a dark pink sleeping gown right now. Mirabel knew the dresses Isa had. They had to find a way to...modify...her current ones.

Maybe...even at age 11, what else could she do?

“Isa, mi flor...your flowers have pollen, right? Why don’t you ever create the lovely pods of pollen? I’ve seen some dress makers use pollen as dye!” The cactuses might not come soon, but surely Isa could still create the pollen pods.

“I-I-But you told me not to create them ever again, after I ruined Luisa’s new room,” Isabela said, looking at her feet, ashamed.

Mirabel was hating Abuela’s actions more and more, the more she lived her life. Not even two hours, and she wanted to slap Abuela. There was no excuse for this behavior. None. Pedro would have been so ashamed.

“Carina, mi vida, por favor. Could you make some for me? I want to see them, Isabela. The biggest, puffiest pod you can make, okay?” She placed a hand on little Isas’s back and ushered her back into her room, so the pollen wouldn’t get all over Casita.

The young girl’s eyes were as wide as saucers with fear and shock. Mirabel almost couldn’t take it. She almost broke down and told little Isabela everything. That look of fear was too much. An eleven year old shouldn’t be so scared of her own grandmother.

Passing the slightly smaller Isabela hedges made Mirabel grimace. Those things. She hated those things!

“Mi flor? Do you like those hedges? The ones shaped like yourself?” She asked, stopping Isa with a hand on her shoulder.

Isabela waffled a bit, biting her lip and dancing from foot to foot.

“Uhm, yes. Of course I do, Abuela. How else am I supposed to perfect all my poses? I have to be perfect! Perfect, practiced poses, just like you told me. I’m trying, Abuela. I swear I am! I’m almost done mastering this one!” Isabela shouted, pointing to an Isabela hedge with her hand in the air, while the other rested elegantly at her waist.

Mirabel closed her eyes, sighing deeply.

“Isa, mi flor, no. You’re done practicing poses. You’re perfect as you are. I want you to do whatever you want with those hedges, okay? Maybe add color. You love blue and black! I know they’re your favorite colors!” Mirabel told the pre-teen Isa, who was staring at her in shock.

“You hate black, Abuela. You never want me to wear it or anything. I don’t want to disappoint you,” Little Isabela looked devastated again, “Is this your way of telling me you’re done with me? That you’re gonna take Mirabel and try to make her perfect? Do you think her Gift will be better?”

Isabela’s lip trembled and her eyes sparkled with tears.

God, is that really what Isabela thought? That the only reason her abuela was acting nicely was because she planned on replacing Isa?

“Isabela, no! You can still come with me on my trips to town, if you want. Or you can stay here and play with your Gift, as long as your basic chores get done,” Mirabel smiled at Isa, hoping the comment about chores was at least Abuela-like enough.

Isabela sniffled and made a noise that sounded unconvinced. Still, the girl led Mirabel to her closet and opened it. As she expected. Pink pink pink. A very small amount of lavender dresses. A powder blue one hanging in the very back, as if she had tried hiding it.

Hmm. Mirabel went through the dresses, picking out an annoyingly frilly pink/white lace dress. The pale colors would lend themselves well to Isa’s rainbow pollen balls. She would have the entire canvas to work with on this dress.

Mirabel saw Isabela’s expression fall slightly when she saw the dress Mirabuela picked out. She must have thought Abuela wanted her to change into something paler. That wasn’t the case at all. Poor Isabela.

“Here you are, mi querida. This dress is very pale! It will be perfect for you to paint with your pollen. Could you show me? A big, bright pollen pod!” She told the girl, noticing the disbelief on her hermana mayor’s face.

“Uhm...uhm...si, Abuela,” Isa knelt down in the grasses near her hedges and clasped her hands together, concentrating.

Wait, so Isabela had trouble with her Gift when she was young!? Mirabel had assumed she was always perfect and everything came effortlessly to her! Isabela used to have to concentrate to make flowers. That was interesting. How much effort did she put into learning to do it without thinking?

The small girl stood, and walked over to Mirabel, her hands closed around something. She looked so ashamed, but Mira saw the gleam in her eyes.

Isabela had loved creating that colorful, fluffy pollen pod. Mira spotted dark blue powder around Isa’s fingers. She almost smiled. So close, Isabela.

“May I see, carina? Por favor?” Mirabel grimaced slightly at the small ache in her knees and pulled up a disgustingly pink little stool and sat down.

Cautiously, Isa held out her hands, opening them while closing her eyes and flinching, as if expecting a shout. A fat, blue ball of powder was in her hand, her fingers and palms stained dark. The pollen was already drifting around and had gotten on her dress.

It wasn’t like the easy and colorful pods she’d created with Mirabel, but it was something. It wasn’t pink, it wasn’t a flower. It was colorful and different. Mirabel reached out a finger, swiping it over the pod, staining her own finger dark blue.

“It’s lovely, mi flor. So lovely. Now, throw it at me,” Mirabel said, almost laughing at the look of shock on Isabela’s little face, “That is, throw it at the dress that I’m holding up for you. Trust me. You won’t be in trouble.”

“I would ruin the dress, Abuela. That’s the dress you got me for the party at Senora Guzman’s house next week. I can’t!” Isabela protested, still not understanding she wouldn’t be in trouble.

“I think it will look much better with some nice, strong colors, don’t you? You like Tia Pepa’s rainbows, right? A rainbow dress would be beautiful, mi flor,” She offered Isa, knowing the girl liked rainbows.

“You promise you won’t yell at me? If you promise, I’ll throw it,” Isa said, chewing her lip and looking intently at the dress, clearly thinking now.

“I promise, Isabela. No yelling. If your Mama yells at you, I’ll yell at her, si? Go on, nieta,” Mirabel urged Isabela on, knowing she was just dying to throw that pod at the dress.

Isabela’s eyes lit up, a tiny smile adorning her face. The girl opened her hands, taking the pollen pod in one hand and hefting it to test it’s weight. She squeezed the pod a little, causing puffs of powder to coat the dress she was wearing a bit.

The flower girl took a deep breath and stretched her arm back. Isa flung the pollen pod with surprising force, the blue splattering on the dress and partially across Mirabel’s face. Mirabel laughed and squeezed small Isa in a hug.

“That was amazing, nieta! Such a fun, lovely way to decorate clothing! Perhaps you could create other colors, make the dress as colorful as you want.” She said, shocking Isa.

The little girl was grinning widely, despite her shock.

“I didn’t know I could do that. I knew I could make pollen, but I didn’t know they dyed clothes like this! Abuela, this is so neat. I can make my own paint, my own hair dye! Anything!” Isa threw her hands up, various colored balls streaming into the air and bursting, showering them with colorful powder.

Beautiful! It’s just like when we discovered her true powers in my time! I wonder if she can produce exotic plants, even now? Mirabel wondered, watching Isa go wild with the pollen.

She was rolling around in the powder, coated in yellow, red, and blue, some dark orange streaks in her hair.

The dress would be fine for the Ceremony, but maybe she should wash the rest of herself...even Mirabel thought attending a party like that might be offensive to some.

Especially those with allergies, like Mirabel herself! Apparently not Abuela, though. Mirabel found that this body wasn’t having any reaction to the pollen.

“That was certainly amazing, mi flor! How about you wash your face, comb your hair, and put on the newly dyed dress? We can show the rest of la familia what else you can do! You need to show off your new paint pods. I know Tio Bruno will be happy. He always wants new colors for his art!” Mirabuela patted Isa on the shoulder, the girl still stiff with shock.

“You want me to wear the dirty dress, Abuela? You can’t mean that. I’ll bring shame to the family. I won’t be perfect. The dirty dress isn’t perfect, Abuela!” Isa said, tears in her eyes, but also hope.

Hope that Abuela really was telling her to wear the dyed dress.

“Isabela, mi nieta dulcita...you could never shame our family. You’ve only ever tried to better our family. I think it would be better if you would be yourself. Show them who you really are. You’re not this...pink princess. You’re wild, free, colorful! I know I haven’t been a good abuela, but that changes today! So wear your colored dress, por favor. Show your Mama, huh?” Mirabel pushed, hoping to convince the small Isabela.

“Abuela, maybe Luisa would like to wear my old pink dresses. They’re too small on me now,” Isabela looked even more ashamed at this admission.

Mirabel remembered Isabela’s struggles with an eating disorder. How she threw up after meals, or starved herself to make sure every dress fit perfectly.

Not this time. If this really was a ‘second chance’ for her familia, via some weirdass body takeover, she was going to make sure this familia didn’t suffer!

And Luisa was going to be a princess, even if this whatever only lasted until little her failed to get a Gift. She was going to make Luisa look like the most princess-y, uh, princess, ever!

“Of course, Isabela. How thoughtful. You’re so sweet! Luisa will be very happy to have them. If they don’t fit her properly, I’ll make sure to alter them for her. Perhaps Mirabel would like the ones Luisa can’t wear,” Mirabel told Isa, making sure to mention how her hermanitas would love to have her dresses.

Isabela seemed to hesitate for a minute.

“Si, Abuela...would it be okay if I took some to Luisa right now?” Isabela couldn’t hold back her excitement now, wanting to give her hermanitas her old dresses right away while she still had permission.

“It certainly would, dulcita. Tell Luisa she can wear any one she wants. I’ll alter it real quick before the Ceremony,” Mirabel knew she could alter dresses very quickly and accurately, much moreso than Abuela ever could.

“Gracias, Abuela!” Isabela ran to the back of her closet, came back with a handful of bright pink and pastel colored dresses, running past Mirabel before turning back and running up to her, giving her a strong hug around the middle.

“Lo siento. I forgot your hug. Gracias again, Abuela!” Isabela ran out, trailing pollen powder behind her.

Mirabel took a deep breath of relief and relaxed on the painfully small stool. Isabela’s room looked different now. Well, then. Or was it still now, since she was in the past, but for her it was the present? Time travel. What fuckery.

She stood, still not as easily as she had as Mirabel, and left Isa’s room, closing the flowery door behind her. Luisa was going through dresses, most likely. Pepa and Bruno were probably still talking to Julieta. Dolores was no doubt listening to everything.

Camilo and...and Mirabel, her little self, were probably in the nursery. Camilo frequently stayed with her, until her Ceremony.

Panic gripped her momentarily at the thought of having to talk to herself. Could two Mirabels somehow exist in the same space!? If only she knew someone to talk to about time magic…

No. Absolutely not. You will not approach Bruno to ask him about this! You’re trying to make him happier, by not forcing him to have visions! Telling him your crazy story would only confuse him even more.

So not Bruno. Not herself. No one, really. Only Casita. Casita was the only one she could trust and count on to not be hurt by her questions. If only Casita would actually respond with words instead of tile flips. Those tile flips weren’t nothing, but it wasn’t the same. She missed her Casita.

Her musings about Casita were interrupted when something small and soft ran up to her, wrapping arms around her skirt. Mirabel closed her eyes. She knew who it was.

“Abuela! Hola. Were you talking to Issy? She always looks so pretty. I bet...I bet when I get my Gift, I can be pretty, too. Right Abuela? Can I be pretty like Issy?” Little Mirabel was probably staring at her, those huge brown eyes so full of joy and hope, as she had been.

She couldn’t avoid it anymore. Mirabel moved her skirts aside a bit, wanting to cry when she saw herself. The white Ceremony dress. The bow she’d worn that was so like Mami’s. Those eyes. So eager. So happy and full of love. Tears popped into her eyes.

She wanted to tell herself that it would all be okay. That it didn’t matter that her Ceremony failed. She was still just as special. Casita loved her, after all. No one else had such a connection to Casita.

If someone had asked her, as she was at 5, if she would prefer a Gift or still keep talking to Casita but have no other Gift...well, little her would have chosen Casita. Casita was her mami in every way that mattered.

Julieta was amazing, loving, but she wasn’t there for Mirabel during every breakdown. Every bullying action taken by Isabela and her friends. All the times Mirabel hurt herself and only Casita comforted her. Julieta wasn’t around for any of that. Casita was. And Casita was better than any Gift, always.

Mirabel reached down, placing her hand on little Mira’s soft hair, feeling the silky white bow under her fingers. Dios, it felt like yesterday. Most people couldn’t remember their fifth birthday much. Even most of her familia couldn’t. She and Bruno were the only ones with crystal-clear memories of that day.

Even Dolores could only recall a haze of screaming and pain. For Mirabel, it was hours of joy and delight, followed by the worst few hours of her entire life. For Bruno, it was fear and anxiety the entire day, brought on by the presence of the weird doors. Followed by decades of pain and hatred from those meant to love him.

To them, their Ceremonies were always remembered in crystal clarity. Mirabel even remembers the food she ate for breakfast that day. Was that the same? Hm.

“Mi mariposa, feliz cumpleanos. I was talking to Isabela, indeed. In fact, Isabela was getting rid of some of her old dresses. She was going to ask Luisa if she wanted some, then she was going directly to you! The cutest little butterfly ever,” Mirabuela tickled her little self, heart aching at the glee in those sweet eyes, so like Antonio’s own sweet brown eyes.

She would have found a way to go back in time and murder Pedro a second time if he had not found a way for Antonio to receive a Gift. Antonio was precious. Worthy of every miracle. Mirabel wanted to tell her little self it was okay.

That she was going to get something better than magic. She only had to wait an extra five years. Her hijo was going to be far more important than some stupid Gift. Antonio was worth never getting a Gift, just like talking to Casita was worth it, when it came down to it.

“Abuela, do I really get to wear some of Issy’s prefection dresses? You’ll really let me?” Little Mirabel looked up at her, eyes almost glowing with happiness.

“It’s ‘perfection’, carina. And yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’re as beautiful as Isabela, mariposita,” Mirabuela told her younger self, trying so hard not to burst into tears.

Her youthful self reminded her of all the things she had hopes for back then. Hope of being useful. Being as beautiful as Isabela. Having her entire familia be proud of her. All of that, in little Mirabel’s eyes. And it would all be gone in mere hours.

Her hope, joy, and pride would all be extinguished. All because of a door. All because of Abuela’s reaction to the missing door. If I don’t get punted back to my world, or actual death, I’m at least making this Mirabel’s life better!

She would make sure little Mirabel knew how important she was, Gift or no Gift. This Mirabel wouldn’t be raised with neglect and bullying. She would also have a talk with the town after Mirabel’s Ceremony. They had a LOT to talk about. About Bruno. As Dona Alma, she could convince them her ‘son’ was no danger at all.

It would be hard breaking Bruno out of his isolation, though. According to Mama and Tia Pepa, Bruno had started isolating himself in his early 20s. Even Isabela hadn’t known much about him. Only Dolores because she heard him talking to his rats all the time in his room.

Maybe this was her ‘main quest’. Start making some changes so this version of la familia doesn’t suffer. Or at least change everyone’s opinion on her own Gift Ceremony. If Alma did not make it a big deal, no one would. Bruno wouldn’t leave. Isabela wouldn’t be forced into even more perfection. Dolores and Luisa might stand a chance at getting noticed.

Even Camilo might be happier, not having to play with Mira in secret. They sure had fun with their ‘secret getaways’ though. Camilo always said he felt like a secret agent or a spy when they had to sneak around to play. Well, he could still snoop and sneak. Casita loved playing hide-n-seek.

Mirabuela scooped up her tiny self, cuddling the small girl to her chest. Little Mirabel felt warm, soft, comforting. Was this what people felt when she hugged them? She’d never felt her Miracle powers on herself. Others told her she made them feel warm and safe.

Despite little Mirabel’s warm, loving aura, she still felt the emptiness, loss, and desolation of Alma’s depression. It drove away the loving aura of the little girl, leaving only the same cold agony of defeat and sorrow.

Abuela never felt the Miracle, not really, until she accepted Pedro’s death. Mirabel wished she could help her Abuela. This feeling was something she never wanted anyone to experience, and her Abuela had lived with it for decades.

Perhaps, if she was allowed, she could talk to the Abuela of this time...or world...or whatever it was. Alma could see how she hurts her familia with her unresolved grief. Mirabel couldn’t make Abuela come to terms with Pedro’s loss, but she could listen, comfort, and of course hug her.

First, she wanted to make sure little Mirabel knew how wonderful she was. How loved. Even if Mirabel herself knew that love was dependent on a door in the ‘real’ timeline.

Chapter Text

It was strange, and difficult, preparing everything for her own Ceremony. The way the family basically cowered before her every request, even after Julieta told Pepa and Bruno about Mirabuela’s changes.

Isabela at least was acting far warmer toward her. She didn’t know Isa when she was this young, not really, but she did remember Isa rarely acting her age. She always acted like someone ten years older. Now, she was finally acting like an 11-year old.

With Mirabuela’s encouragement, Isabela had helped decorate for Little Mira’s Ceremony. No roses, no flower curtains or petals. Pollen, splashes of color everywhere, different, vibrant plants. No cacti or succulents yet, certainly no trees, but it was a start.

Luisa, only 8, was still helping Julieta with Little Mira’s cake. Mirabel bet Abuela had her moving and organizing things during her original Ceremony. Not this time. Luisa would have fun. It was a PARTY, for God’s sake.

Mirabel wasn’t sure how to refer to herself in her head. Mira? Mirabel? Older Mirabel? Mirabuela? It would get confusing, to be sure. She settled on Mirabel for herself, and Mira for her younger self. Miralma would have worked, but she felt weird using Abuela’s real name.

Surveying the work that had been done already, she decided it was fine as it was. No need for extravagance like Antonio’s Ceremony. It was a birthday party before it was anything. The child should be celebrated for themselves, not whatever Gift they may or may not receive.

Mirabel leaned down, adjusting a slightly askew candle lining the tiles toward Mira’s door. Casita flipped a few tiles at her, a laughing gesture. Mirabel hated it. She hated it so much. She wanted her Mami’s voice back. She wanted to talk to Casita, not this...this...barely understandable nonsense!

“Dammit!” She swore angrily, the candle she was adjusting flipped over and immediately set a piece of nearby curtain on fire.

Mirabel was a failure at setting up candle-related décor in any world, apparently. That had happened before Tonito’s Ceremony too. She almost laughed at the silly coincidence.

“Oh! Mama! I’ll grab a bucket of water to put that out.” Mirabel jumped about a foot in the air.

That was the first time she had heard Bruno’s voice here. He didn’t sound scared or angry. Julieta must have told him what she’d said.

Bruno ran over, green ruana flapping behind him, rats hiding under it, clinging to his shirt. He threw the water all over the candle, fire, and curtains. Mirabel’s eyelid twitched. He stained and ruined the delicately sewn curtains.

“Dios. Oh, Dios! Lo siento, Mami! I didn’t mean to do all that. I was trying to stop Casita catching fire! The curtains...the ones you took weeks to sew! I’m so sorry!” Bruno wailed, hunkering into his ruana, as if awaiting punishment of some type.

“What? That? The curtain? They...they can be replaced, Ti-uh-mijo. You stopped me from getting unsightly burns right before the Ceremony. Gracias!” Mirabel kissed Bruno on top of the head, grimacing.

She felt so damn weird treating her Tio like this. He was the exact same age as her mother. It was so wrong and weird.

“J-Juli...was she right? You’re really going to change? No-no visions? Ever again?” Bruno whispered, still hiding in the ruana.

“Mijo, no. Never. You never have to give another vision unless you want to. Well, unless Hernando wants to.” Mirabel flashed a bright smile at him, something she was sure Abuela had NEVER done.

Bruno’s eyes widened, fear flashing in them for a few seconds.

“Who, uh, who’s Hernando?” He asked, eyes flickering back and forth.

“Ay, Brunito. I know. I understand. I love you. And I’m sorry. I don’t know if it was my fault, or if you were simply meant to have two more brothers. I know about Jorge, too. It’s sad they can’t have their own doors, isn’t it?” Mirabel wrapped Bruno in a hug.

Bruno returned the hug, very tightly, sniffling. Was he...crying!? Crying because his mother hugged him and said she loved him? What the FUCK was wrong with Abuela?

“I’m sorry I hid in my tower for so long, Mami. I was so scared. Of the town. Of you making me have horrible visions. Of being yelled at and hit. Or even...they tried killing me when I was a teen, Mami. I never told you, I knew you wouldn’t care!” Bruno sobbed into her dress.

“They did WHAT!? Brunito, that isn’t something that will ever happen again. Tell me who they were. I’ll take care of everything. And...Brunito, there’s a young man, well, he’s not too young, only about ten years younger than you...and he’s starting a clinic for mental health assistance.” Mirabel said, knowing Max was starting his clinic around this time.

“Brunito, mi vida...I would like for you to attend a few sessions with him, once he gets up and running. I know Max. He’s a good man. Anything you say to him will never be repeated, and he understands people who have been hurt. At least consider it?” Mirabel finished, hoping Bruno would seek therapy and at least be somewhat better in the future.

“Don’t worry about who it was Mami, I don’t know. It was everyone. The whole town hates me. Can you take care of that? As for Max, yeah, I’ve seen him. I’ve only talked to his husband. The one who owns a toystore and wants to open a chicken restaurant? They seem really nice. That’s...that’s a good idea, Mama. Therapy. I saw it in a vision. It’s actually wonderful.” Bruno smiled, a real smile, of relief.

He looked as if a giant weight had been lifted off him. He looked happier, lighter. Normal. Except the rats, but that was something Abuela would have to learn to live with. Mirabel would never make Bruno ever get rid of his friends.

Bruno took a deep breath and grabbed his shoulder, biting his lower lip. He looked like he really, really wanted to say something. Bruno waffled from foot to foot, playing with his ruana. A familiar white rat (how is she still alive!?) popped out of his hood and bit his cheek.

“Ramona! What was that for!?” Bruno whimpered, wiping at the small bloody spot, glaring at his amiga.

“Do you have something you’re not telling me, Brunito? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won’t blame you or get angry. Lo prometo. On your Papa’s grave.” Mirabel said, knowing swearing on Pedro was something Abuela never ever did.

Bruno’s eyes widened comically. He licked his lips and fiddled with his ruana some more, tying the frayed corner in knots.

“Mama...it’s about a vision. It was a vision of Mirabel’s Ceremony. Please don’t make me show you. I was so happy when Julieta came to me this morning…” Bruno’s eyes filled with tears.

“Mijo, please tell me. Or show me. I won’t force you, if you don’t want to. No matter what it shows, it won’t be your fault. Gift or no Gift, Mirabel is a wonderful nieta. Nothing could make me hate her. Not even if she collapsed all of Casita around us!” Mirabel laughed, something Abuela would never do in these circumstances.

“Wh-uh-what do you mean, collapse Casita? No Gift? Haha. That won’t happen. It couldn’t possibly.” More tears welled in Bruno’s eyes as he began shaking.

“Mi vida, I swear on Pedro’s soul that I will not be angry at you or Mirabel, no matter what that vision shows. You could shatter it, so it’s out of your mind. Unless the rats find it.” She grinned, very un-Abuela-like, at him.

“Mama...are you totally sure you’re not dying? This isn’t you. I know Juli checked you out, you promised her you’re fine, but this doesn’t feel right.” Bruno shook his head, as if trying to clear it.

Flashes of green flared in his eyes for a few moments. He shook his head angrily, trying desperately to get a hold of himself.

“Mirabel?” Bruno stared at her through shining emerald eyes, confusion on his face.

“I...have no idea what you’re talking about. What about Mirabel?” Mirabel asked, hoping to Dios he hadn’t seen who she really was.

Or hoping he did, so he could help her.

“Mama? I thought you were Mirabel for a second. I must be out of my mind. I’m sorry, Mama. I really do need that therapy.” Bruno blinked a few times, relieved.

Mirabel let out a breath she’d been holding. He hadn’t really seen. He thought it was his own brain and his visions getting mixed up. That wasn’t good, but it was better than him knowing her secret.

She wanted him to grow up knowing his mother loved him, not that his niece took over his mother’s body and made her love him.

“Don’t worry, Bruno, mijo. Everything will be fine. I trust the Miracle. I trust you.” She forced herself to give him another kiss on the head.

“That’s just it, Mami. I have to...I have to...right, Hernando? I’m scared, but I know you can’t. I know I have to.” Bruno argued with Hernando.

Mirabel was curious. What vision? She knew it was about her. It couldn’t be the Casita-collapse vision, could it? Bruno had only had that after her failed Ceremony when Abuela forced him to.

Unless just by being here, just by letting Bruno know he wasn’t forced to have visions, she had already changed the timing of certain things?

Bruno closed his eyes and reached into his ruana and one of the many pockets he’d badly sewn into it, pulling out an emerald tablet. Bruno stared at it for what seemed like hours before finally stepping forward, holding it to his chest.

“Please, Mama. It isn’t her fault.” Bruno handed her the tablet, hands shaking.

Mirabel took it, her own hands unsteady. She hadn’t seen the original, just the repaired one. Would this be different? She looked down at the tablet, shock filling her at the vision.

It wasn’t Casita falling. It was still adult-Mirabel on the tablet. Still something Abuela, real Abuela, would fear. Something that would still cause mistreatment.

When she first looked at it, it was her little self, standing in front of a blank door, confused. When she turned it, she saw her adult self standing proudly in front of her own door, a flame in door-her hands.

The vision flickered and she watched the door behind her go from Abuela to Mirabel. Abuela wouldn’t take knowing Mirabel was to replace her well. Abuela had chosen Isabela as her heiress.

Mirabel herself didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t even known that. She knew she was the source of the magic, the Gifts, the Miracle, now, but certainly not the future leader. That was supposed to be Isa. She had been raised for it all her life.

“Wh-Bruno...why would this upset me? It seems to me that Mirabel is the next me. The next leader of our familia. Perhaps the town, if she chooses to pursue government. This is wonderful news, Brunito. A beautiful vision. Gracias, mijo.” She hugged him to her again, reinforcing her love.

“But...Mama, her door vanishes during her Ceremony. She’ll be heartbroken! Devastated! Mirabel is going to go through life suffering, because of this. I’ve already seen the way Isabela treats Camilo, with his very weak, nearly useless Gift.” Bruno wrung his hands.

“Camilo’s Gift isn’t nearly useless. He simply hasn’t reached his full potential. Shifting into animals can’t be far behind. It won’t clash with speaking to animals, since he can’t speak to them in animal form.” Mirabel mused, realizing too late she’d accidentally alluded to Antonio, or at least a future animal-speech Gift.

“Animal speaking? That’s a possibility?” Bruno whispered, more tears filling his eyes.

Mirabel knew what he was thinking. That should have been my Gift. Yes, it should have. At least, Mirabel thought so. At least for rats. She would never deny Antonio his friends. Not even to help her Tio.

“I don’t know, mijo. I was simply guessing at future Gifts. We don’t know what any of them will be until the door is touched. The future can change. You know that better than anyone.” Mirabel said, waving Bruno off.

“Should I show Julieta? Let her prepare Mirabel for the...door vanishing?” Bruno asked nervously.

Mirabel thought. Would she have been less devastated, knowing in advance that she wasn’t going to get a Gift? No. She wouldn’t have. She would have thought they were lying to her, because no Madrigal had failed to get a Gift. It wouldn’t make a difference.

“No. I don’t think so. The result will be the same, Brunito. Heartbreak. Mirabel will be heartbroken when her door fades. All we can do is make it seem like it is. A celebration of the future. The future of the Encanto. That’s what Mirabel will represent, when we announce she is to be the next holder of the Miracle.” Mirabel tried hard to think of a reason to not tell her little self.

Little Mira would still be humiliated and shamed in front of the town. In front of her familia. In front of Isabela. Her most awful bully, the one who had gone out of her way to make her life hell, moreso than Abuela.

“Bruno, could you fetch me Julieta? I do want to talk to her about something else, por favor. Gracias, mi amor.” Mirabel watched as Bruno nodded and scampered off. He was fast.

Mirabel sat down on a bench. The courtyard was strangely empty. In her time, it was always filled with family. Animals, friends, dancing, eating, townsfolk. Here, no one.

She was going to ask Julieta if this could be a private event. One without the town. Julieta should agree. She had hated her children being spectacles for the townsfolk. This would spare Mira the humiliation of the town knowing she had no Gift.

It wouldn’t spare her from Isabela’s torments. But maybe Mirabel-as-Abuela could. She’d already started a little bit of a personality change with the pollen-dress-thing. It wasn’t enough to get her to treat Mirabel well, though.

Was anything? Isabela had absolutely loathed Mirabel with her entire being, wanting her to die shortly after birth. At least according to Isa herself, during one of her insult tirades at the Giftless girl as she was repairing one of Isa’s dresses.

Yes, according to Isabela, Mama almost died with Mirabel. So did Mirabel herself. Isabela said she wished Mirabel had indeed died. That would solve every single problem that Isabela had, apparently. Isabela’s pimples? Her incontinence problem? Clearly Mirabel’s fault.

Mirabel took a few deep breaths, trying to get her own hatred and resentment under control. She had forgiven Isabela. They were sisters again. That stuff was only from the pressure Abuela placed on her sister, nothing more.

Isabela didn’t really want Mirabel to have died at birth. She couldn’t have. It would have hurt Mama. Isabela wouldn’t wish pain on their mother just to get rid of Mirabel, would she? Was little Isa that selfish?

“Mama? Bruno said you wanted to speak to me?” Julieta walked out of the kitchen, wiping flour on her apron, looking worried.

“Don’t look so worried, Ma-mija,” Mirabel caught herself again, “It was only about Mirabel’s Ceremony. I was wondering if you were right. I know this is the last Gift Ceremony for a few years, but-”

“A few years? Mama, I can’t have more children, and Pepa and Felix aren’t even trying. What happens, happens, they said. And surely mis hijas won’t be having children in a few years.” Julieta laughed.

Right. They didn’t know about her Tonito. She really, really had to learn to NOT let important things slip like that. However, she was in a time period she knew very little about. She didn’t know these versions of her family. The ones who loved her, before she was known as a failure.

“Claro, forgive me, mija. I know how badly you wish you could have more ninos. Lo siento. I wish I could have had more, too.” Mirabel said, knowing that was a true wish of Abuela’s.

She had so desperately wanted a big family and lots of children with Pedro.

“Oh Dios. Mama, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I didn’t even consider. You never had a chance to even try for siblings for us, you couldn’t, Papa, and...and...I’m sorry, Mama.” Julieta whimpered.

“Juli, carina...the past has passed. I’ll see mi Pedro again someday. Many long years from now, of course. I was only wanting to ask if you would like to have Mirabel’s party with only la familia? You asked for your other hijas, but I was stubborn. I wanted a spectacle. Now I realize...you’re all more important than the town. I would rather celebrate mis nietos instead of put on a show for strangers.” Mirabel told Julieta.

Julieta stared at Mirabel like she had grown two heads suddenly.

“I know you’re not dying, but what’s wrong with you? The town is so important to you. Impressing them has been our job for ages! Years. Isabela barely talks to me because she has to be your heiress. The Gift spectacles have been tradition.” Julieta was confused and angry, but also somewhat relieved.

“I told you, mija. I read all the old letters from your Papa, and...I’ve been so wrong, about everything. Your Papa gave his life for his familia, not the town. He died for me, for you, for your hermanitos. Why don’t we celebrate Mirabel herself, and not whatever Gift she gets?” Mirabel said, sighing.

Julieta’s arms squeezed Mirabel so tightly she struggled to breathe with Abuela’s old lungs. Mama was happy. Mama agreed. Mira wouldn’t be humiliated in front of the entire town. Perhaps they would think Mira had got a Gift, something so special they didn’t want to town there for it.

“That’s wonderful, Mama. Thank you! I wish you had let us do this from the start. Dolores was in so much pain from her Ceremony, and all the fireworks...I was so scared Mirabel might get something like that, and get hurt from the crowd, too. Gracias, Mami.” Julieta squeezed even tighter, definitely bruising some ribs.

“I regret that, mija. I need to apologize to Pepa. And Dolores, of course. I’ll go see Gustavo about making quality hearing protection. He makes toys, but they require ingenuity. He’ll have something for her, no doubt. Juli, mi vida, we’ll fix our familia. We’ll be happy, just like your Papa wanted. Pedro died for our lives. He would die for our happiness. That was in his letters, too.” Mirabel once again told her the truth.

Pedro had written to Alma that if he had to, he would die to make them all happy. To have his family thrive, live, love, and be happy.

Tonight, when Mira touched her door and it faded, she would feel only love and acceptance. No one would leave her out. Isabela wouldn’t dare insult her for her lack of Gift. The town wouldn’t even know she had no Gift.

It was Pedro’s wish that they all live happily. Maybe that’s what this was. Pedro granting the collective wishes of his familia. For a second chance. For happiness, a childhood, a life. For his hijos, it might change things too much, prevent his nietos from being born, but this wouldn’t change anything.

Pepa and Felix had a ‘what happens, happens’ approach, and Antonio was an accident baby that Pepa had wanted badly. Antonio’s existence wasn’t at risk. If it were, Mirabel would choose to die herself.

Mirabel let herself relax in Julieta’s arms. Her Mama. Not her beloved Mami Casa, but Mama Juli was comforting. Loving.

“Mama?” Julieta asked, concerned.

“I’m alive, mija. I relaxed, that’s all. I know I never do that, but it’s about time, don’t you think? Where is Mirabel right now? She doesn’t need to wear that silly white dress if she doesn’t want to, you know.” Mirabel told her Mama.

“She’s preparing for her Ceremony. She’s trying to put on makeup like Isabela. She thinks she’s ugly compared to Isa. I need to talk to her, let her know she’s just as beautiful. Silly little butterfly. I’ll go see what she wants to wear. And wash off the makeup.” Julieta grinned and shook her head before heading up to the nursery.

Mirabel watched her Mama walk away, to find little Mirabel Mira was probably with Camilo. He liked makeup too. In the future, he was better than Isabela at applying makeup.

She removed Bruno’s tablet from the large pocket in her skirt and looked at it again. From the very beginning, she was meant to be the matriarch. The leader of la familia. She was too young at the time. Her door fading was all that could have happened.

This time, though, Mirabel was going to have a special room built for herself. So she wouldn’t have to stay in the nursery until she was fifteen.

Wait. The nursery...helped her raise Antonio. She had to stay in the nursery, for him. Unless future ten year old Mirabel moved to the nursery to be with Antonio. She knew she would do anything for him now, but would past Mirabel?

To past Mirabel, he would be just a baby. A baby who cries, screams, and wails all night and never let her get a good sleep. She got up in the middle of the night to feed him, change him, play with him. Would she have done that if she hadn’t been forced to?

Mirabel honestly didn’t know. At the time, it had been so hard. Hard, demanding, and overwhelming. She was only ten. Ten year olds shouldn’t raise children. But Antonio was perfect. Kind, loving, accepting, and forgiving.

No. Mirabel couldn’t have a room built for herself. It wasn’t worth risking losing Antonio. It was hard at first, but so worth it. Antonio was more important than even her own life. Little Mira would stay in the nursery, but Mirabel would let her know it was her true room now.

She would replace the little kid’s bed and wallpaper with adult stuff as Mira grew up. Perhaps even have Bruno carve a design into the nursery door, Mirabel’s door, so that she would feel more like her siblings.

Mirabel would make sure Mira was okay. That she lived, loved, and thrived. No bullying, no hate, no humiliation. The humiliation had been the worst. Had led to the most bullies. Had even egged on Isabela. Her friends laughed at Mirabel, so she tried to impress them by being as mean as possible.

Not this time. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, but damned if she wouldn’t at least TRY.

Chapter Text

Mirabel felt odd, standing in this place, in this time. It was her Ceremony, but she was here, standing in Abuela’s place. Watching herself nervously waiting at the end of the carpet-tiles. Mira had had a happy birthday, with just her family.

They had all agreed, happily, that it was the best choice. Pepa had angrily demanded why she hadn’t always done that. Mirabel had had to tell her the lie she’d told Julieta, about reading Pedro’s letters. She HAD read them, but it wasn’t the real reason for the change.

Mira had seemed a little sad she wasn’t going to get to show off her Gift for the whole town, but she easily accepted having only her family. Well, ‘as long as Mami Casa gets to come’. It wasn’t like Casita couldn’t come. She was literally their house.

Now, both Mirabels were full of anxiety. Little Mira for the Gift she was about to...well, not receive...and Mirabel because she had to perform this Ceremony. She’d never done a Candle Ceremony before. From seeing the tablet, she knew it was her destiny, but she had no practice!

As if sensing her anxiety, Julieta came up behind her.

“Mama? It’ll be okay, like you said. Whatever she gets will be fine. Mirabel will be happy and loved, no matter what.” Julieta tried reassuring her.

“I know, mija. I’m only anxious about...something else, carina. Don’t worry about it.” She couldn’t tell her Mama the REAL reason for her anxiety.

“If you’re sure. I worry, Mama. Especially after all the changes you want to make in one day. I know you’re not dying, Dolores says you’re fine, but I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I’m sorry, Mama. I’m not used to nice Mama.” Julieta said apologetically, hugging her.

Julieta returned to the rest of la familia. It was far less crowded, just the family. They all looked delighted, for Mirabel and themselves.

Luisa had on a too-long, frilly pink dress with lots of lace; Mirabuela hadn’t sewn it for her, because she liked them ‘flowing’. Isabela wore the white dress she’d messed up with pollen, it stained a rainbow of beautiful, bright colors.

Dolores was standing near Isa, but she was looking at Isa’s dress in disgust. She wore her usual red and yellow clothing, but had a nice pair of earmuffs over her ears. A stop-gap until Gus could fix her something better.

Everyone else simply looked relieved and happy, instead of anxious like at every other Ceremony. Yes, even Luisa’s Ceremony had been filled with anxiety. Abuela had been worried she would get a ‘bad’ Gift like Dolores. Everyone was filled with fear the entire day.

Not this time. Even Bruno was there. He was sitting on the floor, something real Abuela would have scolded him for, several rats crawling around on his clothes. Thankfully, he had agreed to forgo the ruana for Mirabel’s Ceremony, wearing only nice pants and a maroon shirt.

As the time came, Mirabel stepped forward, nodding to her younger self. Mira looked at Mirabel, fear in her huge brown eyes. Mirabuela simply smiled and waved her up. Mirabel walked slowly, biting her lip and constantly wiping her hands on her dress.

Ah, hand sweat. A curse since childhood. Abuela’s hands didn’t have that issue, apparently. Mirabel’s hands would be sweating up a storm. She watched as Mira slowly walked the tiles, a happy grin now on her face. Would that grin still be there, afterwards?

In the real timeline, it hadn’t been. It hadn’t been for nearly two years. It had taken so long to get used to having no Gift. Only many talks with Mami Casa had finally helped her accept her...no, disability wasn’t right, she was as able as anyone without a Gift. Difference. Her difference.

And different was good. If everyone was the same, what a terribly boring world it would be. Mirabel turned back to Mira. She was almost there. Mirabel noticed she had her little cheeks puffed out. She was holding her breath. One of Bruno’s luck rituals. Mirabel smiled at little Mira.

“You’re okay, nieta. No need to be scared or worried.” She put a hand on little her’s shoulder, squeezing softly.

“What if it’s not good enough, Abuela? Will you hate me like you do Camilo and Dolores?” Mira whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“I guarantee it will be amazing. Because you’re amazing. Special, like you, mariposa.” Mirabel told her young self, almost hating Abuela for not saying these things, only caring about the Gift being useful, “And I love Camilo and Dolores, as much as the rest of you. Dolores has a hard time with her Gift. Camilo is...well, I’m sure he’ll overcome his laziness.”

That part wasn’t a lie, and Abuela AND adult Mirabel would agree Camilo was lazy. Everyone knew Dolores had a hard time with her Gift and Abuela hated it. She should be grateful for her Miracle, not disliking it, like Bruno.

Ah! BRUNO!

Mirabel let go of Mira’s hand for the moment, glancing around to make sure her Tio was still here. He better not have gone into the walls anyway. Surely she had convinced him that she wouldn’t be mad. She looked around.

He had been sitting on the floor, peacefully playing with rats! Where was he now? Little Mira was about to touch the Candle. Oh, there. She relaxed, feeling Abuela’s odd heartbeat slow a little. Her Tio had...fallen asleep.

Come on, Tio. You didn’t watch my previous Ceremony because of Abuela. At least not all of it. Wake up! She thought.

A tile flipped up, smacking Bruno in the face. He blinked and shot up, falling on his ass after trying to stand.

Gracias, Casita Mami. I know you can’t hear me, but gracias. She wished Casita would respond to her. She missed her Mami.

“There we go, mariposa,” She told herself, “I wanted to make sure Tio Bruno was awake to see you.”

“I love Tio Bruno. He’s funny!” Mira said, giggling.

Mirabel nodded at herself, not really thinking about that. What would little Mira do? When everyone, even Abuela, tells her it’s okay? She knew, just from being her, that she would still be sad. Still feel left out. But without Abuela’s constant barbs and Isabela’s abuse, perhaps she could grow up happy. Part of la familia. Not a stranger in the house to everyone BUT the house.

“Do I touch the Candle now, Abuela?” Mira asked, gazing up at her with those giant brown eyes.

Mirabel blinked. The Candle. She. Had. Forgotten. It.

Antonio’s Gift had been given just with her touch. Mariano’s Gift had been given the same way.

“Right here, Mama. I’m sorry. I saw that you would forget it, and I knew if I didn’t, you would yell at me.” Bruno stood behind her, Candle in his hands.

It wasn’t gleaming near as brightly as it did when held by Abuela. Or when Mirabel had touched it at age 5. Bruno wasn’t the matriarch of la familia. It wouldn’t react to him. Mirabel hadn’t touched it since becoming ‘Mirabuela’.

Would it sense both her and Abuela when she touched it? Would the Miracle work through the Candle or through her? Did it MATTER, since she wasn’t getting a Gift anyway?

Hesitantly, Mirabel took the Candle gently from Bruno, careful to only hold the bottom, where a metal stand kept it from coming in contact with hands. Magical, but Abuela still didn’t want it collecting dust from the windowsill.

She held the Candle up to her face, taking a deep breath. Mirabel noticed the sparkling lights fluttering around it like fog. If she looked close enough, she knew they would be tiny, tiny butterflies of light. Slowly, she removed the metal holder Bruno had used.

Her hands wrapped around the bottom of the Candle, the warmth filling her as soon as the wax touched her hands. It wasn’t as warm, loving, and comforting as being hugged by little Mira, but it was definitely the same magic.

She felt it, inside her and the little girl in front of her. The Candle, on some level, recognized the person meant to hold it’s power. Mirabel closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the joyful presence of the Miracle streaming through her.

Dios, she missed that. She hadn’t know she’d even had that power. The love and joy of the power of the Miracle. It was her, and she couldn’t access it here, just feel it. It felt like a missing limb.

Julieta was looking at her with concern, as was Pepa. Bruno was fiddling with a rat, trying to fit a ruana on it, unconcerned.

Mirabel subtly shook her head. She was okay. Memories, that’s all. Taking a deep breath again, she held the Candle out to herself.

“Mirabel Madrigal, mi estrella, do you promise to use your Gift to enjoy life, have fun, and help your family? And if you do not get a Gift, do you make the same promise?” She added the last part. She still wanted Mira to promise to live, have fun, help family, Gift or no Gift.

Mira looked at the Candle, her golden-brown eyes wide with astonishment and joy. If only she knew the Candle was nothing now. It was all in her. She herself, the little girl with the big eyes and adorable bow, was the real Miracle.

“I promise, Abuela.” She reached out, hands wrapping around the Candle.

As it had in the past, the Candle flickered. Instead of fear taking over and making her ignore everything else, like had happened with Abuela, Mirabuela watched. The flicker turned into a flare, brighter than before, almost instantly returning to normal.

Abuela missed the massive flare of power when the Candle finally gave all the magic it had to the one who was meant to have it.

The butterfly carved into the Candle was moving her wings slowly, her magic having gone into the little girl.

Relief filled Mirabel. She did it right. At least she would still have the same ‘Gift’. Feeling her family, giving comfort and aid, embodying the Miracle.

“You may touch your door, nieta.” She watched as Mira excitedly turned to the door, reaching for the knob.

Oh Dios. Please, Mira, don’t cry. Don’t look at me with those eyes, asking what you did wrong. I don’t want to go through it again. Mirabel almost cried.

She had never wanted to relive this moment, ever. It was the worst day of her life. The day everything changed and she became unwanted and hated. At least, she had thought so. The truth had been far more complicated.

Still, for a child her age, this had been devastating. Humiliating. Even without the town gawking at her, it would still be humiliating.

The town had been disappointed when they weren’t invited, but Julieta told them Pepa wasn’t feeling well and they might experience a tornado.

Most weren’t deterred. The Guzman family wanted to come anyway. Julieta almost agreed when she saw how Dolores looked so excited at the thought.

Mirabel knew why. Even at age 11, she had loved Mariano. She hadn’t known what love was, but she felt special around him. Love.

Mirabel resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her dress. They weren’t sweaty at all, but it was a habit. Little Mira was still standing there, looking terrified, before she took a huge breath, her cheeks puffing up.

She reached out, hand wrapping round the knob. The door flared, as it had in the past. The light that was supposed to carve her image and name into a magical room started going out-no, wait. In. The light went into Casita.

How had Abuela not noticed that!? Mirabel had always known on some level, but having confirmation made her more sure of herself.

Casita was her Gift, too. Her Mami Casa. Her door was always Casita’s door, even if her bedroom was to be Abuela’s.

The door was gone. The family was stunned. Their eyes wide with fear and shock. Only Bruno did not show concern.

Dolores seemed to be stunned in a good way. Mirabel saw her slump in relief and a few tears fall. Even at 11, Dolores was selfless. She was only grateful Mira hadn’t got a painful Gift.

Mira looked at the faded door, shock on her small face. Tears began to fill her eyes, as thoughts of What did I do wrong? Filled her head. Mirabel knew exactly what little Mira was thinking and feeling.

Mirabel knelt down carefully, ignoring the pain in Abuela’s knees.

“Well, it looks like you’re more special than I ever imagined. Too special for a normal room or a Gift. I know mi Brunito has the answer.” Mirabel nodded at Bruno, who came forward, finally smiling a real smile.

“See, mariposita?” Bruno pointed to the part where Abuela’s door turned into Mirabel’s.

“I’m...Abuela?” She asked, confused.

And also very, very right. Her teenage self stood right there, in her Abuela’s body.

“No, no, mi nieta. You’re like me. The next family leader. The caretaker of our Miracle, our Gifts. You may have noticed, mi vida, that I also have no Gift. You and I, we’re the same.” Mirabuela told Mira, smiling gently at her.

“Really? I’m...really good enough to be Abuela in the future?” She looked at the tablet, eyes wide with hope that had been shattered moments ago.

Julieta ran up, followed by Agustin. Agustin tripped over nothing and fell behind, grumbling.

“Mama! Mija! What’s...what’s wrong? Why did her door fade? Mama, please don’t blame her. I don’t think Mirabel-” Julieta was cut off when Mirabuela waved a hand dismissively.

“Mija, don’t you see? She’s meant to take over for me. After I move on to be with your Papa, someone has to care for the Miracle, the family. And I’m the only other Madrigal without a Gift. It makes sense.” She tried explaining to Julieta.

“Not to me! I wanted a REAL Gift and a room. Why? Why didn’t I get a Gift, Mama? Is something wrong with me? Can you...can you heal me? I need to be healed. Something’s wrong with me if I didn’t get a Gift.” Little Mira sobbed, hugging her Mama tightly.

“It’s not the same.” Little Mira said, seemingly to no one, angrily.

Mirabel grinned brightly at her younger self. Casita. She was talking to Casita. Of course. She could ask if little Mira would translate for her!

But wait, how could she tell herself that she was her from the future inhabiting the body of her abuela?

Yeah, no. That would confuse even an adult, let alone a five year old. She had to do something right now. Mira was upset, angry, and sad. But not humiliated.

That, thankfully, wasn’t part of her little self’s feelings right now. Somehow, she was able to feel what little Mira felt, at least while she held the Candle.

For now, the Candle seemed to be their connection.

She cleared her throat. Julieta turned her young self toward Mirabuela, smiling.

“Do you trust Abuela, Miraboo? She isn’t upset. She’s proud of you. This tablet proves the Miracle is strong! So strong it needs someone to guard it for much longer than Abuela and I will be around. A nieto. That nieto is you. You’re the Miracle. You’ve always been mine.” Agustin said, hugging little Mira tightly to him.

Mirabel smiled at her Papa. He had no idea how right he was. She was the Miracle. Literally. Using those powers weren’t...fun, though. They were more disorienting. When she got older, perhaps she could merge with the stars and spirits and magic without losing herself.

As it was now, she never felt like herself after traveling the stars as the Miracle, talking to spirits. It was nice to see Abuelo, but she rarely remembered too much of his chats.

They rarely talked when she was Mirabel, only when she was the Miracle. Losing herself wasn’t worth constantly being part of the living universe, and magic was a constant everywhere in the universe, regardless of whether it was used.

“Ahem. Estrella? Mi nieta? You can’t have my room quite yet. My back can’t handle the beds outside my room. However, do you want me to turn the nursery into a true room for you? Your Tio Bruno will even carve your name and designs into it, until you can claim your rightful room. Hopefully not for a long time. I don’t plan on dying soon.” Mirabuela smirked a little.

“But it won’t be magic. I won’t have stages and mirrors like Milo. No pretty flowers like Isa. Nothing! Stupid normal bed, normal floors, normal walls.” Mira sobbed.

“Mariposita, my room is normal. As small as the nursery, in fact. A bed, a chair, a bookshelf. You’ve been in there, sat on my bed. Are you saying your Abuela’s room is nothing?” Mirabel asked her little self.

“N-no! Of course not, Abuela. Your room is pretty and comforting. It feels like I think Abuelo would feel. Like a warm hug!” Mira declared, a tiny smile finally appearing on her face.

“Then perhaps the nursery can feel like a warm hug when we’re done, hmm?” Agustin asked, stroking his hija’s curls.

“It always does, Papa. Casa Mami is always there. She wants to hug me, but all she can do is tuck me in.” Mira’s smile widened a little.

“You see, mi vida? Casita can’t interact with the others in their magic rooms. She can only interact with us, in our normal rooms. If you had a magic room, no Casa Mami to tuck you in or sing to you.” Mirabuela told her.

“Abuela, how did you know Casita sings to me?” Mira asked, eyebrows knitted.

“I didn’t, bonita. You’re so sweet and lovely, why wouldn’t she? You did say singing helps you sleep. Do you want us to do that, carina? Fix up the nursery?” Mirabel prompted.

“If I’m for sure not getting a magic room, si. Por favor. Can I...can I have a big girl bed, like Issy?” Mira asked, eyes pleading.

She remembered how badly she’d wanted a fancy canopy bed like Isabela when she’d been young. That would be doable. Until Antonio.

“Of course, my dear, of course. I’ll have a special, lovely one built just for you. If there’s ever any other nursery inhabitants, you may have to share.” Mirabel told herself.

“Share? We don’t have more babies. I’m the last one. The youngest. It’s probably why I didn’t get a Gift. Nothing left for me.” Tears welled in Mira’s eyes.

“You never know, nieta. About the babies. The reason for your lack of Gift is the same as mine, amor. You’ll lead our family. You’ll give all future Gifts. This...is yours.” Mirabuela took Mira’s little hands and sat the Candle in them.

“...mine? The Candle? Really?” She stared, wide-eyed, at the wax object.

All the magic was inside her now, but having the Candle in the nursery might help her appreciate it as her own room.

Now, all Mirabel had to worry about was what to do when Antonio showed up. Five years later.

Chapter Text

CONTONDERED

Mirabel had expected to be punted back to her time or into non-existence after making sure her little self would be okay and that no one blamed her. And making sure Bruno stuck around.

Instead, she found herself living life in a blur. Time passed, and she didn’t feel it. All she knew was that Mira was loved and treated like the rest of the family. Isabela was still snotty, but not hateful. Her little self was happy.

She proudly showed off the Candle to all her friends (of which she had many, this time around), saying this was her Gift. She didn’t want a Gift like her familia. The Candle actually GAVE them the Gifts. It was far better.

Yet she wasn’t full of herself. She was still humble, kind, and happy. Mirabel wasn’t sure if that was her influence or just Mira getting to finally be happy as a child without faking it. Was this version truly happy?

As life seemed to pass in flashes, she only came to cognizance when, one morning, Pepa came to the table literally glowing. Sunshine all around, so bright it filled the breakfast area, blinding some of them.

Mirabel blinked a few times, focusing. Everything had been so out of focus. Was she Abuela or Mirabel? Mirabel. She was Mirabel. This body was Abuela’s.

Abuela must have been in control those few years she was out of it. She couldn’t remember doing it, but she must have talked to the...other...Abuela. Or they had both been in control? How long had it been?

She looked around at her familia, especially her little self. Little Mira was sitting by her, Mirabuela, and kicking her legs back and forth, waiting for her Mama to bring breakfast. How old was Mira? How long had it been?

She shook her head, clearing it. Mira looked about...8ish? Somewhere around there? Isabela and Dolores were clearly nearing or had had their Quinces.

She couldn’t remember, from the flashes. She was Mirabel again, in Abuela’s body, not sharing like when she was stuck in between. Bruno was sitting on her other side, smiling and humming, drinking something black and smelly.

He nudged her and pointed to Pepa, grinning widely. Mirabel brought her attention back to her Tia/hija. Still sunshine and rainbows throughout the entire room. It was getting hot. Bruno was wearing a long shirt and a ruana. Of course he wanted it cooler.

“What’s got you all sunny, Pepita? I think you’re making your hermanito all sweaty.” She’d gotten used to calling her Tios y Mama by their pet names, thankfully.

“Ohhh, nothing, Mama. Nothing at all.” Pepa grinned widely, giving Dolores a secretive smile. Dolores grinned back.

Pepa began piling her plate high with eggs, cheese, fruit, and everything she could get her hands on.

“Someone’s hungry this morning. Was dinner not sufficient last night, mija?” Mirabel asked, concerned.

She’d be less concerned if she were more aware of the passage of time. If Mira knew five years had passed, she would be happy, not worried.

“Who cares about Tia wanting to get fat? My Quince is soon!” Isabela whined, fidgeting in her seat.

Mirabel noticed she’d fully taken her advice. She was...herself, but now she was a teen. Fourteen? Her Quince was soon. She wore a dark dress with rainbow streaks, her hair it’s usual black but adorned with a single bright green streak.

Her normally long, luscious, flowing hair was cut to below her ears. It worked. She made it work. Isabela could make anything gorgeous. Mirabel sighed enviously. Wait. Isa’s Quince. Mira was ten...no, nine.

Antonio. Dios. Antonio! Mirabel couldn’t help the huge grin spreading across her face. Her hijo was finally coming. She’d waited...no...was the passage of time blurring considered waiting? Either way, she’d missed him. Dios, how she’d missed him.

“Mama, what’s with the weird smile? It’s creepy. Super creepy.” Bruno cringed, but hid his own smile. He knew, too.

“You already know, Brunito. Well, Pepita, where’s Felix? I’d like to offer my congratulations!” Mirabel held up her limon juice.

“Huh? Why are we congratulating Mama?” Camilo asked, confused.

Dolores giggled into her hands. She heard weeks ago.

“Oh Dios no. Please no. Tell me it’s not true!” Isabela whined, wrinkling her nose.

“But you’re both so OLD!” Camilo protested. Isabela threw a banana at him.

“It’s TRUE!” Pepa shrieked as Felix walked in and she jumped on him.

“What is, mi vida?” Felix asked, stroking her braid.

“You know, IT!” Pepa giggled, putting his hand on her belly.

“Wait. WAIT! You weren’t joking last night. You told me before we fell asleep. I thought it was a dream. Oh, Pepita! We’ve been waiting so long. This is a miracle! Greater than any stupid Gift!” Felix lifted her and spun her around happily.

“What’s going on?” Luisa asked, “Why are they all happy? Why’s everyone smiling?”

Only Luisa and Camilo hadn’t figured it out. Little Mira knew. She was smiling softly. Likely Casa Mami had told her. Mirabel felt a twinge of pain. She missed her Casa Mami almost as much as Antonio.

“Luisa, carina, Tia Pepa is having a baby.” Mirabel said, folding her hands in front of her in a way she hoped was Abuela-like.

“I’m...gonna have a little sibling?” Camilo was confused, “I hope it’s a boy. Too many girls here!”

Mirabel almost squealed. She wanted to tell him so badly. Antonio! In nine months, he would be here. Then...another five years before he would be her Tonito. But would he be?

He would be raised by a different Mirabel. A Mirabel not scared of hurting the Miracle, of being useless. A truly happy Mirabel who didn’t come home and cry under the covers. Would Antonio still be himself?

Part of what made him so selfless and loving was caring for Mirabel when she was sad and crying. No, that would not go away. Mira still slept in the nursery. Antonio would sleep there, too. Mirabel would try explaining to her little self...hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at sharing.

“Tia Pepa, can I sleep in the nursery with your baby? You’ll put him in the nursery, right, Tia? I want to be with the baby!” Little Mira whined.

Oh. Phew. That was okay, then. Mira wanted Antonio with her, despite her tearing up when she learned she may have to share her room when she was five. Now, it seemed, Casita either explained things to her or she was just that happy to have a room mate.

“That’s what the nursery is for, mariposa. I’m not sure they’ll be a ‘he’, but you know they cry all night and need to be fed at all hours...why would you want that, little butterfly?” Pepa grinned at Mira, tousling her curls.

“Someone has to be there for him. I had Camilo with me. I can’t let his brother be all alone. I need to teach him stuff! I can finally be the big sister!” Mira giggled, still calling the baby a boy.

Oh, she definitely knew. Mirabel wished she could yell at Casita right now. The house should NOT be telling very important information to a 9 year old.

“You’ll be the best big sister, no doubt about it, Miraboo. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Isabela! You tripped me and I’m your dad!” Agustin glared at his hija.

“I didn’t trip you. You’re clumsy, Papi. I saw it. You tripped over a small clover. I still don’t understand how, but that’s what you did,” Isabela rolled her eyes, “Really, Mirabel, babies are stinky and loud. I love dirt, but not THAT kind.”

“I can change babies! I help Senorita Leora do it! She teaches me lots of smart big girl things.” Mira gasped, “I can finally use Leora’s lessons. She’ll be so happy! I wanna go tell her. Will you let Leora be your midwife, Tia? Or will it be Mama?”

“Your Mama has always been my midwife, Mira, mi carina. Leora seems wonderful. I’ll go see her, see what she knows that your Mama doesn’t. Sometimes Juli takes shortcuts because she can heal,” Pepa whispered exaggeratedly to little Mira, “And yet I’ve seen injuries and illnesses healed just as well at the doctor’s office. Those blood pressure pills...I swear they saved my life!”

“Pepa, my food never worked like those pills do. It’s only immediate injury or illness. I’ve tried healing Mariano’s Mama, but the healing never sticks,” Julieta walked into the dining room, carrying a tray with more juice.

“He’s happy that you’ve given as much as you have, Tia. Trust me. Mariano appreciates everything you do for his familia. Even when you healed his cracked teeth from that time he tried eating a Rubik’s Cube.” Dolores said softly, patting Julieta’s arm comfortingly.

“Should have let him keep the toothless look. Goes well with the ‘village idiot’ thing he has going on.” Isabela sneered.

“Isa!” Dolores threw a papaya piece at her.

Isabela fired back with several small, concentrated pollen pods, exploding all over Dolores’s hair and only her hair. Isabela’s fine control with her pollen had gotten so good! Mirabel would have to express her pride in her growing power.

Growing power. Did Bruno give those awful prophecies to Dolores and Isa here? When had he done so? Sometime before Mira’s Ceremony, because he had left in the real timeline.

That must mean Dolores was still living with knowing her love would be engaged to someone else.

At least, hopefully, Isabela’s tablet showed her living her true dream life.

Bruno had told Mirabel that herself as she was now, Gift fully grown, embraced sexuality and appearance, everything was the life he had seen.

Isabela simply hadn’t been given the tablet in the real world.

Did she have it here? Mirabel would ask Bruno later. He was definitely calmer now. Isabela’s special plant helped. She’d learned to create it somewhere around age 12. Julieta had ordered her to not use any herself until she’s at least had her Quince.

Mirabel cleared her throat, very Abuela-like. She was learning she had gotten good at mimicking Abuela’s behaviors.

“Ahem! Familia, por favor! I know we’re all incredibly happy and excited for Pepita. However, I must ask that-” Mirabel began, before Isabela interrupted rudely.

“-we do our jobs in town and don’t slack off.” Isabela finished, rolling her eyes, “Si, Abuela. We’ll do our jobs, of course. We always do.”

She smiled at Abuela anyway. Mirabel knew that Isa was only teasing. Something that would never happen if she hadn’t changed so much.

“Not at all, Isabela. I was actually going to say everyone has the day off, to celebrate the upcoming new Madrigal!” Mirabel said, smiling at each of her family members, including her little self, “It is up to Pepa if she wants the town to know, however, so please let her tell them at her convenience.”

“I’m sure they know, Mama. I’ve been sunny for weeks! The only reason I’m SO sunny today is because I’m finally past the first trimester. Because of all the...you know…” Pepa blinked back tears, remembering her miscarriages, “I wanted to be sure before I told anyone.”

“You didn’t have to wait. You could have come to me. I would have told you the baby would be fine. In fact, I could give you this.” Bruno reached into his ruana, pulling out a tablet and handing it to Pepa.

Pepa took in the tablet, squealing and hugging it to her chest. She pulled Bruno into a very tight hug.

“Mama! Look! Look! It’s me and the baby!” Pepa handed Mirabel the tablet.

Mirabel looked. She couldn’t hold back her huge grin. Pepa lying in a bed, holding a small bundle of curly hair. Antonio. Her hijo! He was right there! If only she could reach in and give him a hug.

“It’s beautiful, mija. The baby will be perfect. Thank you for this, Brunito, mijo.” Mirabuela stood up and leaned down to hug Bruno tightly. She inhaled, taking in his comforting scent of rats, incense, and Isabela’s plant.

“Now then, what does everyone want to do on this exciting day? A day of celebration! A new Madrigal will be born soon. He will most certainly receive an amazing Gift.” Mirabel asked her family, knowing for sure that Antonio would receive the best Gift. His animals. His friends.

Learning about Antonio was certainly making this day exciting, too. Mirabel was almost as excited as Pepa and Felix.

Oh no. This Pepa wasn’t overworked. She wasn’t in the fields, ignoring her hijos, letting a ten year old raise her son. This Pepa wasn’t an anxious mess. That was all good, wonderful. For Pepa.

For Mirabel, that meant she wouldn’t be Antonio’s Mami anymore. She would just be prima Mirabel. Tears sprang to her eyes. She would lose him. Even if little Mira was in the nursery anyway.

With Pepa always being there, checking on him, playing with him, everything a good mami does...she wouldn’t be needed. She would be useless.

Something snapped in Mirabel’s mind. For so long, she’d been calling herself useless. Others had. She had her Miracle, she had Casita.

She knew she wasn’t useless anymore. But now, she considered herself useless again, felt the same as she had before the Fall.

Was it always about Antonio, not the Gifts? Not being good enough for him. Not being a worthy Mami for him. Her thoughts, when they went there, told her Antonio was not hers.

She shouldn’t be his mami. This was how it was supposed to be. Pepa was his mami, not her.

Yet, she felt losing him, losing Antonio’s love and perception of her as his mami was worth more than a Gift. Worth all the years of humiliation and insults.

Why would the Miracle do this? Why would her powers act against her?

She knew she did this, somehow, with her power over the Miracle. Mirabel didn’t want to lose Tonito, dammit.

Or Casita, but Antonio was still more important than even Casa Mami. Tonito’s existence and personality were important.

She glanced over at her younger self. Little Mira seemed excited. Her personality was similar. She wasn’t faking happiness this time.

There was no hidden pain. Mira was truly feeling what she had pretended to feel in the other world.

Mirabel would have to find some time to talk to her little self. Get to know her personality better. The hazy memories from her time in the void weren’t enough.

She apparently didn’t get enough of other Abuela’s memories from the lapsed years.

This announcement was important to Mirabel’s happiness. That was why she had been forced back into Abuela’s body instead of staying in the hazy void.

She remembered every second of the day Pepa announced Antonio’s impending birth, in the other world.

At first, Mirabel had been so devastated. She just knew this baby was going to replace her. That it was only conceived because she was a failure.

Later, she did learn that Antonio was an accident baby, not someone Abuela forced Pepa to bring into the world, to her relief.

But Mirabel hated the baby, at first. She had loathed the baby, because it would be stealing her place in the family.

At least before the baby, she had been the youngest, the baby of the family. Her only unique trait. Now that was being taken away from her, like her door had been.

Mirabel remembered pretending to be happy for Tia Pepa, then going to her room and crying for hours. No one came to check on her.

Only Casita comforted her. Told her that the baby might be her best friend. That she might come to love them.

Casita knew. Casita knew how deep her feelings for Antonio would be. That he would come to be like her own son. No, their son. Casita helped Mirabel raise Antonio and deserved as much credit.

This version of little Mira wanted the baby with her. That was a good thing. Really. Mirabel was so scared that Antonio wouldn’t be...well, hers, anymore.

Her familia was talking excitedly, deciding what to do to celebrate this occasion. Even little Mira was excitedly giving out ideas, mostly things ‘the baby’ would need in her room, like brand new dolls and lots of toys.

Clearly ones Mira wanted for herself, even though she would certainly share with Tonito. He would only be a baby and unable to play with the type of toys Mira was wanting.

Hmm. This was a chance to get to know her little self more.

Mirabuela could take Mira shopping...for ‘the baby’, of course. Gus’s toy store had finally gotten off the ground, although his restaurant never did.

Max was busy with therapy and Gus was busy designing. They had no time for cooking, to their dismay.

Or maybe...a little trip with Isabela to the bookstore on the outskirts. Let Isa get to know her wife before they truly ‘meet’.

Or make sure they meet, since this timeline changed. Dolores was already very in love with Mariano, even at fourteen.

Isabela showed nothing, but the desire was there. Mirabel remembered, the way Isa’s eyes grazed Adrina’s muscles and slender thighs instead of Mariano’s bare chest.

The longing. Isa had wanted to say something, so badly, but was still scared.

Perhaps take both shopping...see how Isa and Mira’s relationship was here. They had been so close before Mira’s Ceremony in the real timeline. No, not ‘real’, not anymore.

She changed things...would this spin off, allowing Mirabel to keep herself and her memories, but leave an entirely new familia Madrigal in an alternate timeline?

Would the familia she knew be gone? It didn’t matter. That version of her familia had suffered so much, especially Bruno. They didn’t need to exist. Only Tonito, and even he had been hurt. Ignored by his padres, raised by his prima.

If this was now the ‘prime’ timeline, Mirabel would do her best to make sure everyone was happy. As much as she could. Bruno was still feared by enough of the town to cause him pain. Pepa still got complaints over her weather.

Problems still needed to be fixed. Mirabel wasn’t a god. She couldn’t do it all, but perhaps she could make even those situations less stressful on them.

Bruno, from her memories, hadn’t had a vision for the town since she had become Mirabuela. Only for familia. Something he refused to do in the prime timeline.

This Bruno only did family visions. Pepa still let her emotions control her, which is why her weather only responded to emotions. With therapy, future Pepa proved she didn’t need emotions to summon certain weather.

Mirabel couldn’t fix it all, but she felt she fixed the most important things. Bruno feeling hated, feared, and left out. Little Mira feeling useless, left out, and hated. Isabela’s self-importance. Those things being removed from the timeline would fix a lot of bad in her familia.

Pepa’s blood pressure pills would, too. Since she started taking them, Mirabuela had gotten fewer complaints about her weather. They were still there, the complaints, but lately they had been about the heat.

No way Mirabel was putting a lid on Pepa celebrating Antonio’s coming. Hell, Mirabel would have a giant party and a ‘WELCOME HOME ANTONIO!!!’ banner if she could without changing things.

Be careful, mariposa. You don’t want to change too much.

Mirabel almost jumped a thousand feet in the air. Well, something like that. What was that!? It wasn’t Casita’s voice. Or Abuelo’s. Yet it was so familiar. Feminine, strong, stubborn, and imperious.

A voice she now heard every day.

Abuela. Abuela was here now. What did that mean? Was she always within Mirabuela, watching, learning? That...would explain a lot, especially about the hazy void moments. They were literally sharing a body.

Mirabel almost understood what the Miracle was trying to do. If indeed it was her own powers that did this and not Abuelo’s actions.

It was trying to let Abuela learn, in a way that wouldn’t further harm her family. In a way that would keep things mostly the same. All the changes were good ones. Ones Abuela should have done from the start.

Mirabel hesitantly probed her own mind.

Abuela? Are you here?

In the same way you were, during the years of your growth from little girl to pre-teen. Everything was hazy, but I was there, I heard your words. I heard the way my family felt. It was hard to change. That’s why, together, we can make our familia happy. Mi Pedro’s only wish.

Yes, it was his only wish. I’m glad you see that, Abuela. Gracias.

I’m fading again, miraposa. Make sure Pepa’s pregnancy goes well. I have a deep feeling that it’s important. That we couldn’t be happy without her little one.

Talk to you later, Abuela.

Mirabel shook her head fiercely, rapidly, clearing it. Abuela was indeed here. Praise Dios! Mirabel didn’t want to totally take over Abuela’s life. Just fix a few things she did wrong. Abuela agreed, now that she had seen with her own eyes.

Mirabel sighed and leaned back in Abuela’s chair, thinking. She tried drowning out the family’s excited chatter.

“Perdon, mi familia. I need to go to my room for a moment.” Mirabel excused herself, trying to keep her prim and proper posture as she walked impatiently slowly to Abuela’s room.

As soon as the door was closed, she threw herself on the bed, face-down, and screamed into the pillow.

Dolores no doubt caught that, but she likely thought it a scream of happiness.

It was a scream of nerves. Yes, this new version of her family would end up being happy.

What about her? And Abuela? Would they both have each other’s old memories of the previous timeline?

The next important ‘stop’ in her journey to avoid Casita falling was likely Antonio’s Ceremony. Would she be more comfortable by then? At least she would know how her relationship with Tonito turned out, in this new timeline.

Part of her felt...wrong about managing to create a new timeline. She hoped like hell this timeline would simply merge with the other.

Keeping things mostly the same, but leaving her family happy. Happier. Because they were happy, even though it took many years.

Yes, this was very important. Bruno wouldn’t be Bruno without his rat plays. Pepa wouldn’t be Pepa without her nerves. It was important to keep who they were intact, somehow without being overbearing and strict.

Dios, she and Abuela were doomed.