Not-Bruno, or Oscar, or whoever it is currently hanging out in her uncle's body, does not look happy as he joins the rest of the family for breakfast.

"Morning!" Camilo greets him with exaggerated cheer, and Mirabel figures he resents the fact that the guy is still here-he doesn't seem to care for Oscar at all.

Of course, it could just be the fact that it's a new day and he's still here, which means their uncle has yet to recover from his attempt to read Brunito's future.

Oscar winces slightly at the volume, glaring at the teen with a venom that catches Mirabel momentarily off guard.

Camilo offers the man (Boy? Teen?) a smug grin and starts on his breakfast. Oscar continues to glare at him for all of three seconds before shaking his head and turning his attention to his own plate.

The rest of breakfast passes by fairly smoothly. Oscar slowly but methodically works his way through a small plate full of food, a glass of water, and a glass of juice before pouring himself a cup of coffee, though there's a carefulness in the way he eats that suggests that he is doing so more for Tío Bruno's sake than because he's actually interested in breakfast.

Still. It's more than Mirabel's ever seen her uncle eat in one sitting.

Brunito, settled in her lap, manages about a third of his plate-again, more than he usually eats at any given meal-before resorting to picking at the leftovers.

"Excuse me," Oscar says abruptly, setting down his cup just as his eyes start to glow.

Again there seems to be no pain, no discomfort, and no tension. The distinct lack of-well,any of it makes Mirabel's heart ache at the realization that her uncle's gift is harder on him than it needs to be.

A second later the glow fades, and he picks up the coffee cup. "That's weird," he says, making face. He doesn't seem particularly distressed though, and when he catches Mirabel watching he shrugs. "Already happened," he says. "For me, not for you guys."

Mirabel considers this. "So...your past?"

"Well, not my past. Vision wasn't about me." He offers her a wry grin. "But I do remember it happening, what, a couple years ago?" He looks thoughtful. "Two or three, I think. You'd just turned twenty."

"Is it a vision about me, then?" Mirabel asks, trying to ignore the way the entire table suddenly tenses.

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it's about you." He shakes his head. "I promise, it's nothing-life changing. Just mundane, every day, ordinary stuff. Nothing to get worked up about. It's just, I remember it happening because of what happened afterward."

"What happened-?"

"None of your business," Oscar tells her, grinning. "And nothing to worry about," he adds kindly. "Just mundane, every day, ordinary stuff."

Mirabel lets herself be reassured, and the rest of the table seems to be settling down, when he winces. "Oh that's not fun at all," he complains.

"What?" Mirabel asks. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" he looks at her for a moment without seeming to see her. "Oh, yeah. Just." He pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "It's just-he's going to be miserable when he wakes up."

Mirabel considers this for a moment. "Are you miserable now?" she asks, uncertain, because he seems fine, other than the wincing, but she's not sure how else he would know that her tío was going to be uncomfortable.

"Eh," he shrugs, noncommittal. "I mean, I'm definitely not having a good time, but I didn't try to see into my other self's future. He's definitely going to be sick when he wakes up."

"We'll, uh, keep that in mind." Mirabel says, mostly because she has no idea what else to say.

Oscar nods and turns to Brunito, still picking at his food in Mirabel's lap. "Finished?" he asks. After a moment, Brunito nods without looking up. "Ven conmigo."

Brunito slides obediently out of Mirabel's lap as his older self rises. Mirabel considers her own, half-finished breakfast before making a decision and standing as well.

They all end up out in the backyard near the garden: Oscar, Brunito, Mirabel, Mirabel's father, and Tío Félix. Oscar settles in the grass not too far from the path, legs crossed, face turned to greet the sun. He pats the ground beside him, and Brunito sits beside him as bidden before turning to look at Mirabel.

The five of them end up sitting cross-legged in a circle, much to Oscar's amusement.

"Doesn't have to be a circle," he tells the boy, chuckling. "You don't really even have to be sitting up. Eyes open, eyes closed, the point is to breathe, clear the mind, and relax. You're already carrying around far more tension than you need to-not that that's really your fault either." He smiles down at the younger version of himself. "For now, though, close your eyes, and take a deep breath in."

Brunito closes his eyes and does as he's told.

"Good. And nice, slow breath out. And another slow breath in." Oscar pauses to breathe in with the boy-a slow, deep inhale that for some reason makes Mirabel want to yawn. "And that's all it is. In. Out. In. Out. Nice and slow."

Oscar falls silent, and for several minutes all that can be heard is the sound of the two of them breathing together. Mirabel finds herself falling into the same breathing pattern almost without meaning to, though her eyes are wide open, and she has to admit, it's almost peaceful, sitting here in the sun, just breathing.

"All you're going to do is focus on breathing. In and out. No other thoughts in your head, no other worries-except if something pops in there, that's fine. Let the thought happen, and then let it move on, and then back to the breath. We're not trying to think about stuff, but we're also not actively trying to stop it."

Oscar falls silent again, matching his breathing to Brunito's almost instinctively, without thought. For several more minutes all that can be heard is the sound of five people breathing together-even Mirabel's papa and uncle seem to have been drawn into the exercise.

Mirabel closes her eyes, letting herself focus on her breathing even though she knows that whatever it is they're doing, Oscar is showing Brunito specifically how to do it. The rest of them are just bystanders.

She has to admit, though, that it is relaxing. Maybe she's still having a lot of thoughts, and not focused solely on the breathing part, but it's still nice, just to sit there and take some time to breathe.

"Now." Mirabel jumps a little, Oscar's voice startling her just a little bit as it cuts through the quiet. "With every breath, allow yourself to relax a little more. Allow some of the tension to melt away. Maybe that means breathing it out with each outward breath. Maybe it feels like a weight, sliding off your shoulders, down your arms, down your back. Maybe it feels like gravity, pulling down on your limbs till the bones inside are the only thing keeping you upright. Whatever works for you. But notice your shoulders, and notice your back, and see if they're tense. See if you can let some of the tension out of them.

"And all the while we're still breathing, still focusing on the breath. Still allowing our thoughts to come and go as they will while not trying to think about anything in particular."

Oscar takes in another deep breath, once again falling into rhythm with the rest of the group seemingly without effort.

Mirabel has no idea how long they've been sitting there when she hears him shift. "When you're ready, open your eyes."

She opens her eyes, yawning as she looks around. Beside her, Brunito is yawning as well. Oscar is stretching his back and shoulders, and Mirabel's dad looks more than a little sleepy. So does Tío Félix, for that matter.

Oscar brings up a hand in an attempt to hide a yawn of his own. "Something to practice," he tells his younger self. "Daily. When you're feeling scared. When you're feeling anxious. Anytime you feel overwhelmed, really. Even helps with the visions, sometimes. Makes them easier, when you aren't fighting yourself, or fighting them."

Brunito blinks, looking up at the older version of himself. Oscar grins and winks at him.

"I wouldn't worry too much about the talking thing," Oscar tells her. He's sprawled inelegantly on the grass, hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. "He'll start up again when he's ready, and then you won't be able to get him to shut up." He chuckles, and Mirabel, propped up on her elbows so she can watch while Antonio shows the eight-year-old various plants and flowers from the garden, smiles briefly.

"What happened?" she asks, forgetting for the moment that the person beside her is still a version of Brunito, and though perhaps to a lesser extent, Bruno. "Does it have anything to do with the pictures he keeps drawing?"

When several seconds go by without him offering any sort of answer, Mirabel turns to find Oscar staring out past her, lips pressed tightly together, most of the color drained from his face.

"Oscar?"

He takes a long, slow, steadying breath, eyes coming back to focus on her. She can see a glimmer of the same raw pain she saw in her tío's gaze before, controlled and diminished but still plainly there. "I'm not going to answer that," he says, his tone severe but far from angry. "It's not my place to say, and while I have so far been freer with personal details regarding Tío Bruno than maybe I should be, I honestly believe everything I've said will do more harm than good in the long run. This, however, would only do harm. There's a reason he doesn't talk about it, and it's not just because he thinks his family doesn't want to hear about it."

"Sorry," Mirabel mumbles, looking away.

"For what?" He laughs. The sound is genuine, even if it is laced with bitterness. "You ask because you want to help Brunito. Or Bruno. Both, if at all possible. That's nothing to be sorry for."

Mirabel can't really argue with that, even if she still feels bad for touching on what is still obviously a sore spot, even for him. "Anything I can do to help?" she asks.

"The pictures were a way to process what happened, I think," he says lightly. "Drawing them helped. And-" he hesitates only briefly before continuing. "I talked to your papí about it, eventually. Not in detail, just vague-comments. He didn't pry, and to this day I don't think Bruno knows we talked-my Bruno, I mean, back in my time. Your dad-he's a good listener. He knows more than he lets on."

"Yeah, Dad's pretty good about that," Mirabel admits. "Still, I wish I could do more."

Oscar shrugs. "You're doing plenty. Just give him room to breathe. To feel, you know? Just being there, it means a lot. He's going to be fine. Trust me."

"Which one?" Mirabel asks, watching as Brunito sits down unprompted and starts weaving flowers together in a circle.

"Both."

Brunito joins them, completed flower circlet clutched limply as if nothing more than an afterthought, and that already forgotten. Oscar takes it from him, hands gentle as they work the ring loose, smiling as he sets it delicately on his own head.

"Está bien," Oscar says softly as the boy drops to the ground between them, whimpering slightly, and Mirabel is certain there's a vision coming. "Don't fight it, mijo. It sucks, I know it sucks, but it's worse if you fight it. Just let it happen. Just like the thoughts earlier? Breathe in, breathe out, if a vision happens, let it happen, and then let it move on."

It's still several minutes before Brunito's eyes light up and he slumps backwards, lying prone on the grass. Oscar watches him unconcerned, though he does take a moment to push the boy so he's on his side and not his back.

"Eh. It gets easier with practice," he says.

"The breathing helps with the visions?" Mirabel asks, and Oscar chuckles.

"The visions are kind of the whole point-for us. If you can get Tío Bruno to join in, though-Dios, but the man is tense. All day, every day, it seems. Lots of tension."

"I'll make a note of that," Mirabel says. "So did future you teach you how to do this in your past?" she asks, suddenly confused.

Oscar shrugs. "I honestly don't remember," he admits. "The first month or so is still kind of blurry on my end. But I know I didn't do it before the whole time-travel thing, so I must have picked it up somewhere along the line. Tío Bruno too, and it's obvious he never did this kind of thing as a kid. Guy's way too tense."

And there's that pain in her chest again, as Mirabel is once again faced with what could have been. The realization that her tío didn't have to suffer as much as he has. The knowledge that he might have been more confident, far less timid, had things been different.

She wonders how much like the person in front of her he would have been, if he had only been given the chance.

"Can't change the past," Oscar tells her gently, as if reading her mind. "Just now."

She nods, and because she can't quite hold back the tears, looks away.

By the time Brunito recovers, Antonio's reappeared, a flower crown of his own gripped carefully in one hand. The boy joins them, smiling at Brunito, who hasn't quite managed to sit up yet, before offering the crown to Mirabel.

She leans forward, ducking her head so he can place the circlet of flowers on her.

Oscar blinks. "God, that hurts," he says, right before his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses into the grass.

Antonio looks at him. "He's not having a vision," he says. "Should we roll him over anyway?"

"Probably should, just in case," Mirabel decides. "Can you go get Mama? Maybe Dad too, just in case something's really wrong."

"Maybe Tío Bruno's coming back," Antonio says before taking off toward the house.

"Maybe," she says.

Brunito's eyes widen. His head tilts back, and he screams.

It's a sound Mirabel's never heard from him before, and never wants to hear again. The kid's not just in pain-he sounds like he's being tortured.

Beside him Oscar (Bruno?) convulses, his own breath coming in agonized gasps, before curling in on himself, arms wrapped around his torso as if to brace against the pain.

Brunito screams again.

"Fucking-God damn it-" His older self gasps, tears streaming down his face. A second later he's scrambling desperately to his knees and trying to put distance between himself and the rest of them. A second later Mirabel understands why as he starts heaving.

From the looks of it, most of the food Oscar painstakingly consumed during breakfast is coming back up.

By the time Mirabel's parents reach them, the worst seems to be over. Brunito is lying listlessly in the grass, aware but seemingly only half awake, and Bruno (Oscar?) is hunched over, coughing.

He raises his eyes to meet Mirabel's, and there's no doubt about it: her tío is back. Eyes watering but back to their normal hazel-green and fluttering away briefly before forcing themselves back to meet her gaze, he offers her a weak smile.

"Perdoname," he says, then promptly passes out.

Brunito looks over with mild disinterest before closing his own eyes and following suit.

Author's Note: So we're almost done, maybe? The main idea is finished, at least. Got one more chapter to go. However, I've been toying with the idea of continuing this little world, just for fun, with Brunito and the gang, just because he's a sweetheart and I've fallen more than a little in love with him. So let me know: do ya'll want more Brunito, or is it about time for this party to be wrapping up? I look forward to hearing from you, and thinks for coming along for the ride on this one.

Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.