Author's Note: Hold on, kids. It's about to get weird up in here. I'd apologize, but this piece seems to do whatever it wants, and I'm left very much at it's mercy. All I can say is that it's been a wild ride for me too. Also, just a heads up, there's some swearing in this one. A word or two of the profane variety. Because I try to be considerate.
Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.
Everyone shows up for breakfast. The meal is quiet, a little tense, but everyone's tired, and nobody seems to want to break the fragile peace that seems to have settled over the table.
Brunito and Abuela show up together, Mirabel's mother not far behind, and while they all look tired, nobody looks any worse than they did the night before-Brunito actually looks marginally better.
He climbs into Papa's lap almost immediately upon reaching the table. Mirabel's father lets him, bring up an arm to balance the boy as he leans in to kiss Mama on the cheek as she joins them.
Bruno clears his throat right as everyone is getting ready to leave, looking around the table. "Wait a moment, Juli, please. You too, Augustín." He looks over at his other sister, and she too sits back down.
Mirabel is about to take her plate and go when he clears his throat again. "Mirabel, por favor."
She sits down.
Isabela corrals both Brunito and Antonio out into the garden, and the older kids follow her out as well. Mirabel's a little surprised when none of them protest being left out.
Bruno remains silent, distractedly moving food around on his plate until they are the only four left in the room.
"I, uh-" he looks around, takes a deep breath, and continues. "I'm going to try to look into the future. Brunito's future, specifically. So far-I don't know how to get him home, but maybe-maybe I'll see something that will help."
"Or you'll end up unconscious for a week," Tía Pepa counters, staring at him as if he's lost his mind. "Or worse."
"Short of simply waiting around and hoping it fixes itself, we don't really have any other options." Bruno says. "I was eight years old the last time I tried. I should be able to control it better now-I've got a much better idea of how my gift works than I did back then. I didn't really know how to make them happen on purpose back then, and I've always had an easier time controlling them when I make them happen." He pauses. "I'm also hoping that since it's him and not me-sort of-that there won't be as much backlash."
"And if there is?" Mamá wants to know. Bruno cringes, rolls his shoulders, and forces himself to meet her eyes.
"I'd like you to be there. Just in case." He turns to Mirabel. "Can you keep an eye on him today? I know he knows when I have a vision, and I know he can tell when they-when they're painful, but he doesn't seem to be able to see what I'm seeing-or feel anything. I'm hoping that will protect him even if I'm looking into his future specifically, but I'd feel better knowing someone he knows is safe were with him anyway."
Mirabel nods.
"Of course," she says.
"And the rest of us?" Augustín asks. "What do you need from us, Bruno?"
Bruno looks away, his face reddening. "I-" He forces himself to look back up. His expression, while determined, cannot completely mask the worry-or fear-in his eyes. "In case-if something goes wrong-Juli shouldn't have to-"
"Moral support. Got it." Pepa interrupts, nudging him with her elbow even as she glares daggers into her brother-in-law with her eyes, daring him to disagree-or clarify exactly who it is they're supporting.
"When are we doing this?" Papá asks, taking the hint.
"The sooner the better. I know-" he holds up a hand, forestalling any would-be protests. "I haven't forgotten about the other night. But I don't think waiting is a good idea, and there's really no guarantee that something else won't happen-to him or to me-if we decide to put it off."
Mama and Tía Pepa exchange a glance. "We all know once you've set your mind on something there's no talking you out of it," Mama says, giving in. "I'm guessing you'll want to do this in your vision cave."
Bruno nods.
Mirabel doesn't feel like joining the others in the garden any more than she feels like letting Isabela show Antonio how to braid flowers into her hair.
She goes along with it though, and tries not to let on how worried she is by all of this. She smiles when she's spoken to-and even answers, sometimes. When Camilo gives her an odd look she yawns and insists that she's tired. When Brunito climbs into her lap and offers her a crown made of flowers, she bends her head down so he can gently set it on her head.
Her mind is racing, her thoughts on her uncle up in his tower, putting himself at risk to try to figure out how to help the younger version of himself get back home. She's not sure whether it's self-preservation, or sheer desperation, but either way, she's terrified that something might go wrong.
What if it doesn't work?
What if the vision-or the even the attempt-hurts Bruno?
What if it something even worse happens?
The kids head back inside to figure out something for lunch shortly after noon. Mirabel isn't expecting Tía Pepa to be there, setting the table, or for Mama to be bringing in a fresh platter of arepas, or for Papa to be sitting at his usual seat, cup of coffee in hand, studying Tío Bruno, or Tío Bruno to be staring right back at him as if waiting for something.
"Uh, hi," she says, at a bit of a loss.
"Hola, Mirabel," Tío Bruno says, but there's something just a little weird about it, something that makes her think that maybe he already tried to have a vision of Brunito's future, and that maybe it did not go as planned even if he does seem to be more or less in one piece. "¿Que hubo?"
"Great? Did you, uh, get a chance to-figure anything out?"
He looks at her for a moment. "Oh. Yeah, the kid's not going anywhere. He's stuck."
The entire room goes silent. Tía Pepa drops a plate, shattering it.
"Uh." Bruno looks over at her. "Sorry. Should've mentioned that sooner, I guess."
"You said it didn't work." Mirabel's aunt is staring at him now.
Bruno raises an eyebrow. "You asked if I saw anything that would help get him back home and I said I didn't," he corrects her. "Because he can't go back home. He's here, he's staying, you might as well get used to it."
Mirabel blinks at her tío for a moment, because usually he's not this confrontational with anyone, but especially Pepa.
She's never known him to be this antagonistic, either.
Bruno purses his lips, making a face, and tries again. "I mean, it's not going to be possible to send him home. We're going to have to figure out how to make this work?"
Antonio eyes his tío warily. "Are you okay, Tío?"
Bruno turns to look at the boy. "De cierto, Toñito. Why wouldn't I be?" He offers the boy an odd sort of smile.
Antonio shrugs and reaches for an arepa.
Brunito watches all this with wide eyes. He's sitting in Isabela's lap this time, and when Bruno goes to look at him, the boy hides his face in her dress.
Isabela looks down at him, then up at Bruno, suddenly flustered.
"Sorry, kid," Bruno says, his voice softening just a bit around the edges. "It's gonna be okay though, you'll see. It's all going to work out just fine."
Bruno reaches for an arepa and takes a bite out of it, only to immediately look as if he regrets it. He closes his eyes briefly, chewing for a moment before forcing himself to swallow. The rest of the arepa goes back on his plate.
"Yeah, I'm just gonna go throw that back up now, be right back."
Bruno is gone in the next second, leaving behind an entire family of completely befuddled Madrigals.
"That's not Tío Bruno." Antonio announces from his chair.
Tía Pepa sighs. "He tried to see into Brunito's future, to see if we could figure out how to send him back home. He came back-a little weird."
Antonio shakes his head, entirely unconvinced.
Bruno returns, settles awkwardly back into his chair, and looks around. "What?"
"You're not Tío." Antonio tells him. "You're all wrong. Tío doesn't act like that. Or talk like that."
Bruno frowns at him. "You don't know how my gift works," he says. "I just-sometimes I come back weird, that's all."
"Not that kind of weird."
"I am totally Bruno, mijo. Really."
Mirabel can't look away. She also can't think of anything to say to stop this-because yes, Tío Bruno is acting weird, and yes, sometimes he's different after a vision, but she's never seen him act quite like this. If anything, he tends to be quieter and even more withdrawn than usual.
Antonio looks at Bruno, then around the table. He points at Brunito. "He knows it's not Tío."
"Antonio-" Pepa begins, but doesn't really know where to go from there.
Antonio scowls at her for a moment before turning back to Bruno. "Okay, okay. I believe you." He looks up at his Tío, blinking up at him with wide, earnest eyes. "Promise?" he asks. "Do you promise that you're Tío Bruno, who talks to rats, and is always the best at hugs and cuddles and stories?"
Bruno looks down at the boy, takes a deep breath, and swears.
"Damn it, Antonio," he grumbles.
What?
"Okay, okay," Bruno says, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm not Bruno-not exactly-let me explain."
Antonio narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. "Did you hurt Tío?" he demands.
"Tío Bruno's okay. I promise, Antonio. Or-he will be. And no, I didn't hurt him." Bruno looks around the table. "So here's the deal. I'm actually him." He points to Brunito, who is still hiding in Isabela's dress. "Don't worry, he just needs a minute."
He turns to Mirabel. "So the idiot got the bright idea to try to look into my future-or rather, my past self's future-to see if he could find a way to get me home, right?" Mirabel nods uncertainly as Bruno-or Brunito (future Brunito?) continues. "Except the number one rule for a seer, if you want to live a long, happy life, is never to look into your own future. And even though they aren't technically the same person, they're close enough, and the whole thing where they both have the same gift makes it weird. Still with me?"
"Maybe?" Mirabel is pretty sure she's not getting any of this. She certainly has no idea where not-Bruno is going with all this.
It is becoming more obvious by the second, however, that this is not their Bruno.
Not-Bruno sighs and visibly resists the urge to roll his eyes at her.
"Mira, I love you, but sometimes you make me crazy," he says. "Let me start from the beginning. When Bruno was eight years old, he accidentally looked into his own future, which is a big no and caused a sort of temporal rift that only managed to mend itself by splitting the timeline-sort of. Actually, never mind about the rift. Bruno's gift went haywire and somehow-we're still not entirely sure how-split Bruno into two identical versions of himself, both completely and absolutely Bruno, both very much alive, and both very much with the ability to see the future."
"Okay?" Mirabel's not sure why he's addressing her specifically, especially over all the adults in the room, but he continues before she can ask.
"So. Two Brunos. One suffers backlash from the whole ordeal in his own time and is unconscious for about a week. The other gets thrown into the future he saw of his older self-incidentally also suffering backlash from the vision-don't ask why, sometimes our gift is just stupid like that. Which is when you found him. Two separate Brunos. One stays in the past, one jumps forward into the future. How we doing?"
Mirabel presses her face into her hands. She's pretty sure she feels a headache coming on.
"You don't need to send Brunito back because there's one already there in the past, living his best-well, not his best life, but you get the idea. And you can't send him back because first of all, nobody knows how, but also because we're pretty sure trying would just screw everything up even more. Which is why you guys need to get used to the idea that he's here to stay."
Tía Pepa speaks up then, voice strained. "So who are you? If you aren't Bruno..."
Not-Bruno's gaze flickers toward the heavens for a moment. He starts to reply, stops, frowns, and then rolls his shoulders. "That's a little more complicated. I'm Brunito from the future-not physically, obviously, that's how you got into this mess in the first place-but his mind. You know, the non-corporeal stuff. The mind, the soul, the essence-whatever you want to call it. Because as much as I love the man, I was not about to get stuck here. No offense, but once was enough for me."
He looks around briefly before sighing again. "Okay. So Tío Bruno decided he was going to try to see Brunito's future to try and figure out how to send him back home, right? Except we've already been over that, so it didn't work. Obviously. Fortunately, Tío Bruno's gotten a little better at controlling his visions since we were eight, and he managed not to do the whole split into multiple Brunos and get catapulted into the future thing again. Unfortunately, he did manage to nearly kill himself in the process, so here I am."
"Nope," Camilo interjects. "Still not making sense."
Bruno laughs, only to sober immediately. "Fine. He would have killed himself in the process if I hadn't intervened. The short version is that the backlash had a similar effect as it did the first time, only instead of being unconscious for a week, he would have been dead, so I'm just kind of baby-sitting his body so it won't quit on him until he wakes back up. And before you ask-I don't know how I did it, I just did."
Camilo looks him over skeptically. "So where's your body, then?"
"Safe. In the future-your future. My present. Are you even listening?"
"We're trying," Mirabel assures him. "It's just-a lot."
"Right. Because Tío Bruno never talks about his gift." Not-Bruno says, making a face. "You guys really did a number on him."
What?
"Not you kids, Mirabel. The adults? No, you kids have been great for him. Especially you and Antonio."
It's a lot. Mirabel's not sure she understands any of it.
"So, to summarize, when Bruno looked into his own future at eight years old, he split into two Brunos-one stayed there, and one ended up here? And you're a future version of the one that ended up here, only stuck in Tío Bruno's body because he's unconscious?"
"More or less," Not-Bruno says.
"So how do you get home?" she asks.
Not-Bruno shrugs. "I just go? Once he wakes up, I'm out of here."
"But how?" Camilo wants to know. Mirabel's primo is still not convinced of anything.
"How do you shape shift?" Not-Bruno counters. "I just stop being here, and wake up there. And then I never fuck around with my own future again because I'm not an idiot."
"Bruno!" Tía Pepa scolds, then looks momentarily at a loss.
"Oh." Not-Bruno looks down at Antonio. "Sorry." Not that he looks particularly sorry to Mirabel. It's more like he looks annoyed that he got called out, and that more than anything drives home the fact that the man standing in front of her is not her Tío.
Not-Bruno raises a hand to massage his temple. "I'm going to make some tea. This headache is incredible. No wonder he has trouble eating, if this is a recurring theme."
He crosses the room only to disappear into the kitchen, and the rest of the family watches him go.
Antonio looks around. "I told you it wasn't him," he says.
"You did," Mirabel agrees. Looking to the adults for help, she asks, "Now what?"
This sparks a debate over whether or not anything not-Bruno said could be believed, which turns in a debate over whether or not it actually is their Bruno, and he's just had some sort of mental breakdown, which turns into a debate over whether or not the man could potentially be a danger to himself-or those around him.
It's ridiculous, because it's obvious the man in the kitchen isn't her uncle. It may look like him, but that's where the similarities end. And while very little of his explanation made much sense to Mirabel, the part about Tío Bruno never talking about his gift unfortunately did.
"What do you think, Brunito?" she asks, because the boy has finally emerged from hiding his face in Isabela's dress only to insist on climbing into Mirabel's lap. "Is that you, but older?"
Brunito looks up at her, but remains silent. Mirabel resists the urge to sigh.
"That's okay. I don't really understand any of it either."
Not-Bruno returns, cup of tea in hand-his right hand-stirring the still steaming beverage. "You know I can hear you all from the kitchen," he says, sitting back down. "And I have no interest in being poked or prodded-or restrained. So tell me what I need to do to convince you that I'm telling the truth."
"Have a vision," Camilo says immediately. "Tell me my future."
Not-Bruno tilts his head at the boy, eyeing him with interest as he removes the spoon from his tea and sets it down on his barely touched plate. Switching his mug from his right hand to his left, he blows gingerly on the steaming liquid inside before setting the drink back down.
"Sure," he says. "About two years from now you get tired of worrying about what everyone else thinks of you. You start painting your nails and wearing makeup. Abuela gives you a hard time about it at dinner the first time, mostly because she's worried, mind you, and Tío Bruno counters that by running around in a dress and high heels for the next two weeks. By the time he stops nobody cares about a little polish on your nails or makeup on your eyes."
"That wasn't a vision," Camilo points out. "Your eyes didn't glow."
They are green though, Mirabel notices. Just like Brunito's.
"What do you want to know?" Not-Bruno counters. "Because if you don't ask for something specific, I could end up seeing anything. You may not like what I see." He shrugs. "Of course, you may not like what I see either way, there's really no guarantee. But I always say: if you don't like it, do something about it."
Camilo scowls at their not-uncle. "Predict something we can prove. Something that will happen tonight. Something that won't change."
Not-Bruno rolls his eyes. "The future is always changing, Camilo. Except when people decide it can't. I will summon a vision of the future, though, just for you. So you can see that I'm telling the truth."
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When they open again half a second later, they are glowing bright green.
He remains that way for several minutes, eyes glowing, body loose and relaxed, hands resting delicately on the table. His breathing is calm and even. There's not a hint of distress on the man's face.
The glow fades, and not-Bruno raises a single eyebrow in Camilo's direction; a silent challenge.
"What did you see?" Camilo asks.
"None of your business," not-Bruno says easily. "Oh, that's going to be fun," he adds, wincing. "Really, I don't know how you people ever let it get to this point. You really need to take better care of the man."
"What." Camilo stares at him.
Not-Bruno shakes his head. "Look, I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck here, but we definitely need to have a talk before I go. I don't care if it risks changing things or not. This is simply not sustainable."
"What?"
Not-Bruno offers the boy a razor-sharp smile. "We will talk," he promises. "But not tonight. I'm going to bed, because this body is exhausted, and apparently eating is a bad idea right now, what with all the nausea and dizziness and all that. One of you can come keep an eye on me, if it makes you feel better, because I know that you've all been going through a hard time and this has to be a bit of a shock. Maybe Tío Augustín? You've done these sorts of overnight watches before, if I'm not mistaken. I'll see the rest of you at breakfast."
He grabs his tea, stands up from the table, and walks out of the room. Mamá and Papá exchange a glance, and Mirabel's father follows him.
No one else is quite sure what to do. Abuela looks helpless, just as she has way too often since Brunito arrived, as well as more than a little bit broken. Mama and Tía Pepa look frightened.
Mirabel's sisters and cousins look confused, except for Antonio, who looks annoyed.