A/N: Alejandro bonds with Casita and experiences a shocking revelation.

Chapter 4: Did You See the Closing Window? Did You Hear the Slamming Door?

Encantober Prompt Day 8: Casita

Since Casita was the only one who ever seemed to be aware of his existence, that was where Alejandro ended up more often than not, after his family was asleep and he grew tired of watching his wife mutter and toss and turn as she dreamed. He spent the days watching over Lucía and Josefina and José, watching them move forward from his death one clumsy, painful step at a time. Occasionally, he followed one of the Madrigals around town. He often visited Bruno in the walls. And at night, he visited with Casita. He'd taken quite a liking to the house, really, even if the feeling wasn't mutual.

At least she'd stopped trying to shoo him away.

She'd accepted him grudgingly. He was there, a stray that came to visit occasionally, and he'd float along her corridors and through her walls and across her rooftop tiles and watch.

He'd watch the Encanto and he'd watch the Madrigals and he'd talk, about her familia and about his. He talked to the house so he wouldn't feel like he was speaking only to himself.

She seemed to like to hear about her family.

"Luisa let Mirabel tag along today but I think it stressed her out the entire time. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, making sure Mirabel wasn't hurting herself. She almost dropped a house to keep Mirabel from dropping a brick on her foot."

"Camilo watched Josefina again today. She asked for me and didn't understand why…why he wouldn't shift into me. He's – he was so sad. Casita – I'm sorry."

She especially liked to hear him talk about Bruno, another person Alejandro seemed to gravitate towards, outside of his immediate family. "Bruno's latest telenovela is something else. Did you know he made little props for his rats? They stick their little heads through the holes. And he does this thing he calls a 'game show'. It…it sounds like he asks the rats riddles and they solve them for prizes? It's…interesting." She'd ruffle her roof tiles and click in approval.

"Josefina kept asking for 'papá' today, and she wouldn't stop," he'd tell her, wishing he had a throat so he could swallow the lump of regret that had solidified in his ghostly form. "Lucía – she handled it so well, but she – she was so sad, afterward."

Or –

"Mirabel made Josefina's doll a new dress. She's a special child. She notices people, she notices things, you know?" Casita had quietly clicked her tiles in agreement. And then – just as quietly – "I'm glad – I'm glad Josefina – and Lucía – have your family looking out for them."

And then, one day, feeling particularly convicted - he spoke aloud what he'd realized all those weeks before.

"It's my fault, you know. I was a fool. I believed I could change the world – that I could change everyone, if only I'd had the chance – but I couldn't even change myself. I hurt my family, Casita. I hurt my community. I hurt your family. And for that – I – I take full responsibility. I messed up. I am truly sorry." He paused, and then, in a low voice, muttered, "May God have mercy on my soul."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Alejandro whipped himself around so hard, he didn't realize he'd leaped right off the roof and was hovering in the air a foot away from it until the Voice spoke again.

"Greetings, Alejandro Moreno, Lingering Soul, Wandering Spirit, beloved Son of Adam." The Voice sounded incredibly…tired. Or perhaps exasperated? Amused? It was hard to tell. "You've kept me waiting a very long time."

The Voice was warm and strong and low. It was not loud, but its softness made him want to lean forward, to listen intently to catch everything it said. If he was being honest, it frightened him a little. But it was also comforting, and gave him a sense of hope that he had not had since he'd realized he had died.

When he was a child, he'd begged to go for a walk in the woods with his father. His father had told him the walk would be long and hard, as he was going to investigate a colony of wild bees and see if they could potentially be added to his family's hives. But Alejandro had insisted, and regretted it halfway to the bees. By the time they returned, the sight of the familiar path to his home filled with such relief, knowing home and rest and comfort were only a few more steps away.

That's what hearing the Voice felt like.

Alejandro found he was so shocked he could not vocalize his thoughts for another full minute.

"Who – who – who are you? Where are you? How – did I ask – what did I ask for?"

"Why, Mercy, of course."

A small flash of light, and there before him was a butterfly, glowing golden beside him.

"A - mariposa?!" Alejandro said, disbelieving. "Mercy is – you're a…mariposa?"

"Of course not." The butterfly said calmly. "I can take a different form if you prefer." The light shifted into Pedro Madrigal; then Padre Tomás, the local priest, then Alejandro's mother, and then – Lucía.

He reeled backward. "Not her," he croaked, his spirit sinking with the weight of his guilt. "Not Lucía."

"No," agreed Mercy calmly. "No, I didn't think so. We shall stick with a butterfly for now?"

Alejandro couldn't answer. "What – are you - ?"

"Butterfly it is." The light condensed into a butterfly once again, and Alejandro gaped. "Thought I may retain the right to use Pedro. His form is usually very comforting to those from the Encanto. And he holds some measure of authority. It's not him, of course, he moved on to his reward long ago."

Ah. So there was a reward.

For some.

And if selflessly sacrificing yourself for your family was the way to a reward, Alejandro seriously doubted pursing your own ambition at the expense of your family's peace and your life would lead to the same.

"What - what are you doing here?"

"Alejandro Moreno, you are asking the wrong questions." Mercy spoke kindly. When Alejandro simply gaped, Mercy spoke again. "I am here to help you, because you asked for me, and as you know, God gives generously to all those who ask him without finding fault. Of course, James was speaking of Wisdom, not myself, but God also grants a great many other things to those who ask."

"So you've – come to take me - to - ?" Alejandro let his question trail away, suddenly afraid. He'd thought of God these past weeks – months, now? But he hadn't – it hadn't always been in a favorable light.

"Not yet," Mercy responded, flitting around before him. "I am here to help you prepare before you move on."

Once again, Alejandro felt the icy pang of conviction. "Move on - to where?"

"That is not for me to say, but I will say this: You have done well to realize that you are just as broken as the rest of the humans in the Encanto. Just as broken as the rest of the humans on Earth."

Alejandro stared at Casita's roof tiles. He'd been so judgmental of the Madrigals, of the people in town he'd observed, even of his own wife. "Yes," he agreed softly.

"You also did well to accept responsibility for your mistakes and the harm you caused others – your wife and daughter and, to a lesser extent, others in town. Including la familia Madrigal."

Alejandro nodded and waited, expecting judgment and condemnation.

"…but, you were also not wrong in your observations. You are perceptive, Alejandro. La Familia Madrigal is broken, much more deeply and much more fatally than they allow others to see. In fact – most of the family does not truly see it yet, themselves. There is one, however, who does." The butterfly hovered expectantly in front of Alejandro.

"…Bruno?" He asked.

The butterfly did a little flip of approval. "Correct."

Alejandro looked down as Casita shuffled her roof tiles nervously.

"…And Casita."

The butterfly bobbed in agreement. "There is another who will see, one day, but her time has not yet come. She will help the rest of the family see, in her own time."

Alejandro thought for a moment. "How…how does…why does Casita sense me, here, when no one else does?"

"Casita is one of those rare places on Earth that exists in two planes at once – the heavenly realm and the earthly realm."

"So – that's where their gifts come from? That's – where the miracle is from?"

The butterfly bobbed again. "Pedro Madrigal's death - a sacrificial act of the purest love – created the mountains and the Casita, opening a doorway to heaven, and that love keeps the door open, allowing more miracles and more gifts through. Despite what Alma mistakenly believes, the miracle is not tied to the family's performance. It is tied to their love. A miracle born of love cannot be earned; it is kept alive through the means by which it was created: Selfless, unconditional love."

"So if the house is cracking…"

"The family's love is faltering. Do not mistake me; the Madrigals love each other deeply. But their love has been shaped by fear and twisted by grief, and it cannot survive as it is now. They cannot survive as they are now. Their hearts are breaking, and Casita can sense the family's cracks – and yours."

" My cracks?!"

The butterfly landed lightly on the ghostly form of his shoulder, and he felt it - like the feather light kiss of mother to her son. "Would you like the chance to help mend what's broken, Alejandro Moreno?"

A/N:

Here we enter unfamiliar territory; this is loosely based on a movie I haven't seen but have read the summary of, and I'm putting a slight spin on it, so - we'll see how it goes! The rest of the story is also influenced by Chronicles of Narnia, Dickens, and "It's a Wonderful Life", blink and you'll miss it. (I'm more pulling themes/feelings than actual plot points.)

Hey, yo, let's go!

Thanks for reading and for your support. :)