A/N: Edited 6/24/22 for spelling and grammar.

Chapter 10

Bruno woke up, brushing away the thing that tickled his cheek. It squeaked in protest.

"Mmmmmmmmpppffffft," he groaned, groggily sitting up and brushing his hair out of his face. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scratched his cheek, peering at the blurry shape perched on his knee. "Sorry Lareina." Valentino, Pablo, and Lorenzo perked up from his dresser, and at the sound of his voice, scampered to the bed as well. Señora Rata and the rest still appeared to be sleeping in the little bed Antonio had made for them yesterday when they'd all moved home. He stretched and yawned, blinking at the sun streaming through the window.

The window. The window that Casita had left in his bedroom when the magic returned. He looked around his new bedroom, still sort of in awe at how the night had ended. After his conversation with Lucía, he'd still spent the evening against the wall for the most part, but he had a steady stream of people checking in on him throughout the night and including him in the celebration. After the party had ended and their neighbors had left, his family had stared at each other, uncertainty written on their faces.

They hadn't attempted to touch their doors during the party. Normally, gift ceremonies were a town affair, but – everyone already had their gifts, and they hadn't really wanted an audience to see how much their bedrooms had changed with the return of their gifts…especially since acknowledging that some of those gifts had been more burdensome than others. But there'd been no avoiding it at the end of the night. Antonio had practically been asleep on his feet, and they'd all needed to go to bed.

Casita had seemed to sense their trepidation, and had gently separated and guided them each to their respective doors, still glowing ambiguously in the cool night air. The house had then clicked its tiles in encouragement, and they'd all opened their doors at the same time.

Bruno smiled as he looked around his room. When he'd touched his doorknob, he'd had a vision – a short flash of one, just as he'd had when he was five years old and first got his gift. At five years old, he'd seen exactly what his unopened birthday gift was. This one was equally benign – he'd been writing something on a piece of paper, and turned it around to show a young boy and girl. They both clapped. He was fairly sure the boy and girl were Antonio and Josefina, but he wasn't about to try and 'see' it again to be sure.

His door, after his fingers relaxed enough to release the handle, had appeared much as it had before, but instead of a strained grimace, his expression was relaxed and neutral. Instead of a giant hourglass before him, there was simply a small hourglass above him, along with an engraving of an open book and a rat. While the door's golden sparkle had dissipated after the picture appeared, it hadn't disappeared entirely. Small swirls of magic danced around the border of the door and above his portrait's head.

It had been the same with everyone else. The doors and the gifts on them were very similar to how they had been before – but now, the person was emphasized rather than the gift. And, like Bruno, many of the Madrigals had other symbols on their doors as well. Camilo was centered on his door, with a variety of smaller human forms surrounding him around the border of the door instead of overtaking him. Dolores' expression was also happier, and along with soundwaves, she also had hummingbirds dancing along the outer edges of her door. Antonio's was much the same as it was before. Luisa's door included music notes, books, and unicorns and other mythical creatures flitting around the frame. Isabela's had a wider variety of flora, and her portrait's pose was confident and sassy instead of perfectly posed. Mirabel's – Mirabel's door glowed as well, and the beaming portrait of the young lady in question was surrounded with all of the other family members' symbols, as well as needles and thread.

His siblings' doors now included their spouses as well. As far as they new, Félix and Agustín still didn't have a physical gift…but Mirabel had said that perhaps, their gift to the family was their presence and all they brought to it.

A knock on the door roused him from his glassy-eyed reminiscing, and he heard Mirabel calling to him to join the family for breakfast. He stumbled out of bed and dressed, taking in his pleasant little bedroom. He still felt overwhelmed by large spaces after spending ten years in the walls, and this room was perfect for him. Small but not suffocating, it held his large bed, a nightstand, and a dresser on one side. Opposite those sat a wardrobe and a desk, under a window that looked out to the jungle below, with carefully organized papers and the telenovela props he'd brought home on top. At the foot of the desk sat the 'bed' Antonio had made his rats, and a simple frame on his dresser depicted the drawing Josefina had gifted him at the Madrigal's last night at her house. She'd made one for every member of the family. His showed his rats with little hearts all over it. They were all smiling, and he smiled again looking at it. A few other frames with photos of his familia adorned other surfaces in his room.

When he was ready, he promised his rats he would return with food later, and then walked out of his bedroom door to a small, clean tiled room with a stone bench and a set of stairs – much more manageable stairs, only one flight – that lead to what looked like a replica of his vision cave. Not that he'd been in any hurry to check, last night. Or now. Natural light streamed in from somewhere above. He walked toward the curtain of sand that blocked the view of his actual bedroom door and went to join his family for breakfast.

Julieta and Agustín had cooked together that morning. She beamed when she saw Bruno, and motioned for him to help himself from the buffet table that sat on the side of the room. Everyone else was talking animatedly about their rooms, their gifts, and the night before.

When everyone was settled and his mother had said the blessing, they ate. The quiet sounds of eating lasted only a moment before Julieta leaned forward, her smile crooked but excited, as though imparting a secret. "Agustín helped me cook," she explained quietly.

Camilo wrinkled his nose and laughed. "I can see that," he said, looking down at some misshapen arepas and back at Agustín.

"No," she said shaking her head, still smiling. "He didn't just chop and measure for me. I chopped and measured for him. He actually made those arepas, Milo. And they work."

Everyone stopped eating.

"They work?" Mamá asked incredulously. "They heal?"

Everyone began talking at once.

"Tío Agustín has the same gift as Tía Julieta?"

"Papá, you can heal?"

"Not – not on my own, but - "

"Papí, can you control the weather now too, like Mamí?"

"Uh - "

"Do you think we can share gifts now? I want to try turning into one of my animals!"

Agustín blushed at the attention this announcement had brought, and Alma still stared, open-mouthed, at the man. After a moment of chaos, she lifted her hands and called for quiet.

"This is…this is new," she said softly, still stunned. "But we must take turns speaking or we'll never find out what is happening." She looked toward Mirabel, who shrunk into her chair out of habit.

"Why are we all looking at me, now?" She laughed nervously.

"It's your miracle now, mi nieta," Alma said, after a moment of hesitation. "It came back because of you."

Mirabel adjusted her glasses and smoothed out her skirt beneath the table. "Well – uh – see – I don't – I don't - " She huffed in frustration. "How am I supposed to know how a miracle works?"

When everyone was still silently staring at her a moment later, she sighed. "Ooookay. How about – how about we just – go around and share anything new you've noticed about - about anything. Your gifts, your rooms – whatever. We all know about our doors, but - Mamá, I guess we'll start with you…?"

And so they began to share everything they'd noticed. Agustín had offered to make breakfast for the family, and Julieta had helped. She chopped and measure and oversaw, more to prevent injuries than anything else, but Agustín had done the majority of the work. And when he'd burned his hand, she stuffed one of his own arepas into his mouth out of habit, and it had worked.

"It wasn't like that, in the past." Julieta continued, absolute love and adoration shining from her expression as she looked at her husband. "Someone else could pre-measure ingredients, but I had to do everything else in order for my magic to work."

Luisa bit her lip. "Does this mean Papá has the gift of healing, too? Or only when he's working with you?"

Julieta shrugged. "I don't know, mi amor. Is it that Agustín shares my gift now? Will anyone who cooks with me be able to create food that heals? We will have to experiment to find out."

Luisa nodded, and, since she was sitting beside her parents, went next. "My gift is the same," she said slowly. "It feels the same. I feel strong. I was able to lift the piano last night and move the table easily this morning - but my room is a little different."

When they all looked at her, waiting for her to go on, she blushed. "It's – uh – it used to have – a lot of weights and rocks and stuff in it? But now – uh – it's - " she smiled at herself. "It's relaxing."

Mirabel was sitting next to Luisa, and so she went next. She grinned to herself. "So, I don't have – I don't have a gift, per se, like the rest of you. But - my room – ah - " She turned that brilliant smile onto the rest of her family, one similar to the smile she wore last night when they'd handed her the doorknob. "Maybe – maybe it's better if you all see it, for yourself?"

Curious, the family rose and followed her upstairs to her room. Mirabel opened the door and let them in, and Dolores gasped, and a small rainbow popped into existence in the mist over Pepa's head. Magical, glowing engravings of the Encanto itself filled one wall of a hallway, while the same engraving on the front door of the casita – the one with all of them on it – spanned the other wall. The hallway had a door on each side, and ended in a large room with a window that showed the entirety of the Encanto below. The room with the view had a large sofa and several chairs. Mirabel gave them a brief show of it and then showed them her actual bedroom, complete with the bed that had been salvaged from the old house and restored by the metal-working Rojas family, a wardrobe, dresser, an end table, and a desk. It, too, had a window, if smaller than the one in the other room, and it was warm and bright and cozy and very, very Mirabel.

The other door led to a sewing room, filled with so many bolts of fabric and sewing supplies that it looked like someone had bought out the entire inventory of Señora Villanueva's fabric shop.

"Is your gift sewing?" Antonio asked shyly.

"I mean, I'm pretty good," Mirabel teased. "But I don't think it does anything – magical. I made this this morning." She held up a small handkerchief with a flower embroidered on it and shrugged. "Just your ordinary, everyday handkerchief."

They passed it around, complimenting her on her stitching, but agreed it was a normal handkerchief. After a moment, Mirabel looked up to find her abuela had left the room. She moved around Camilo and Isabela to leave her sewing room, to find Alma running her hand over the engravings in the hallway. She turned to Mirabel, and opened her arms.

Mirabel stepped forward hesitantly, and Alma pulled her into a tight embrace. "Mi milagrita," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Mirabel."

Mirabel hugged her back, and when she pulled away, the rest of the family was now inspecting the engravings as well.

"Mira. Prima. Amiga. Does this mean your gift is literally the Encanto?" Camilo asked, tilting his head and studying the walls. "Like – the whole - " he waved his arms, gesturing vaguely.

Mirabel shrugged. "I have no idea."

Abuela stood beside her, a thoughtful look on her face.

The family returned to the breakfast table shortly after that, and continued discussing anything different they'd noticed in their gifts or rooms. Isabela stated with a flick of her hair that her powers had already begun changing before they'd been lost, and her room was now organized into different terrain types to experiment with different types of vegetation. Antonio hadn't noticed any changes, Camilo simply noted his actual bedroom had more of his own personal favorite things it, and Dolores, once again, explained that her power was different – in that she wasn't constantly trying to hold it back, but instead, had to push it out to focus on and hear things far away.

Félix stated, with a slightly disappointed look, that he had not noticed anything different about himself or any abilities to work with the magic.

Pepa fidgeted beside him. "That's…not exactly true, mi amor."

Everyone looked at her, and she smiled awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You…" She blew out a frustrated huff of air. "I…we're connected."

Félix smiled at her. "Of course we are, mi vida - "

"No," she interrupted. "I mean – yes, of course we are. But now, we are magically connected. You can't feel it?"

He sat silently frowning. "What am I supposed to be feeling?" He asked after a moment.

Pepa bit her lip. "Last night, when the magic returned, I was happy – but anxious."

"The hail." Camilo and Dolores said at the same time, giving each other a look.

"Yes," Pepa shot them a look, warning them with her eyes not to interrupt her again. "Out of habit, I tried to keep it at bay…but when you took my hand, I felt how joyful you were. I felt how much you loved me. It made me comfortable enough to hail." She flushed slightly. "Instead of suppressing my feelings, I felt – I felt safe enough to let them go. I knew you wouldn't let me get out of control. You'd never let me hurt anyone with my power. And later, my hail turned to snow because of you, querida. You were concerned for me, but it wasn't – it wasn't this sharp, stabbing fear, the kind that snuck up on me for years. It was gentle and soft and warm, and I felt it."

Her expression softened into one of adoration. "You've always been able to help me with my emotions, Félix. But now, it's as though - your love, your feelings for me are a…an anchor for my own. I can feel your love, in the same place I feel my magic, and every other feeling pales in comparison to it."

Félix was staring at his wife, eyes wide and dark and his lips parted in shock.

"Félix?" She whispered.

"Mi amor!" He whispered breathlessly, grabbing her hand, and pulling her out of her chair and into his lap, dipping her slightly and kissing her soundly. "Mi vida! Te amo, siempre te querré…" (1)

"Eaugh!" Camilo turned bright red and shifted into a child, small enough so that he could hide in his chair so that he wouldn't see his parent's public display of affection. "Mamí! Papí! Please!"

Félix gently deposited his wife back into her chair beside him, and she looked a bit dazed and very pleased, until her brows drew together in concern. "But mi amor, why can't you – why can't you feel it, the way I do?"

He put a hand over his heart and chuckled. "Mi amor, mi vida, I know you love me. I feel it every day. There is no way – humanly or magically – that I could possibly feel your love more intensely than I already do, and there is no way on this earth or in heaven above I could love you more than I already do. Maybe it was I who shared my magic with you."

He waggled his eyebrows at his son, who had just shifted back into himself again. "It is the magic of love."

Camilo groaned.

"I'd like to see you mock that, mijo" Félix crowed with delight.

"Never." His son wrinkled his nose.

"I think," Abuela said softly, "I think Félix may be on to something."

That got everyone's attention.

"But first – Bruno?"

He ducked his head. He was the last to go. "Uh, yeah. Of course. So far, so good, here. My room is – intact. Nice bed. Less sand. Way less stairs. So…yeah." He knocked on the table and gave a tentative thumbs up, and his mother's brows drew together in concern, but she didn't press him further.

"Mirabel, may I present a theory?"

Mirabel blinked at her, completely unused to being noticed, let alone deferred to. "Uh…yes?"

Alma smiled at her, and then returned her focus to the table at large. "It seems to me," she began slowly, "that all the changes we have discovered so far have made your gifts…easier to bear. Even Félix and Agustín, while most likely not having outright gifts of their own, were given the ability to assist their wives with their gifts."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I have had a lot of time to think, these past few weeks. I realized that – while I valued the miracle given us – to the extent that I held on so tightly, I snuffed it out entirely – I – I never truly sought to understand the miracle. I knew we had received the miracle because - because my husband – Pedro - gave his life to protect us. I think," she paused for a moment, contemplating how to explain. "I think my view of the miracle centered around death and sacrifice and was clouded with a grief and a fear I never quite let go of, and I believe – I think that affected your gifts."

She looked apologetically around the table at her family. "I can see, now. I think – my connection to the miracle was based solely on the fear of losing it, and a desire to protect and survive."

She lowered her eyes to the plate in front of her. "I think, though I did not consciously choose your gifts – I suspect - the miracle was guided by me, by my feelings and fears and desires." She stopped, and exhaled, her breath hitching slightly.

"Mamá?" Julieta asked hesitantly.

Alma shook her head, still staring downward. "I am ashamed. I think…I unintentionally created a - sort of safety net to protect us from the outside world. From the men who killed Pedro."

She let the implications of that sink in, and the faces around the table slowly morphed from attentive and compassionate to horrified and disbelieving. Pepa was the first to react, and a thundercloud burst forth above her head. "You gave my children gifts that would make them spies!" She cried out.

Antonio looked confused, and, sensing his tension, his jaguar appeared beside him, ready to take him away at the slightest signal.

Luisa's face crumpled as she realized what her gift could do – what she might have been expected to do - in the face of an enemy trying to attack her family. She burst into tears and hid her face in her hands. Isabela, too, looked angry, and Julieta had tears in her eyes.

"I am sorry," Alma said softly, tears streaming unhindered down her face. "It was not purposefully done, but the more I thought on it, the more it weighed on me. I - "

Pepa thundered, her face dark, and Agustín looked like he was about to say some choice words as well - but Mirabel stood up, walked around the table, and hugged her abuela.

She stayed there, hugging her, until Alma's form lost its stiff posture and she leaned into her nieta, gratefully returning the embrace, and the rest of the table grew quiet at the display of unconditional love.

Félix held his wife's hand, his expression assertive, rubbing small circles onto the back of her hand with his thumb. She thundered several times, and then her thundercloud lightened, until it was simply a grey cloud above her head. She looked tired.

"I believe you," Mirabel said, wiping her eyes and then readjusting her glasses on her face. She looked at the rest of the table. "And it's okay – to feel strongly about that. But – think about how she taught you all to use your gifts. She may have unintentionally guided the gifts to be something that could, hypothetically, be used in – in – in - "

"War." Isabela said flatly. "She gave us gifts that would help us win a war."

"Right. That." Mirabel grimaced. "But think about how she actually taught you to use them. Think about how much she hated fighting. I mean, that was part of our problem, right? She hated fighting so much we could never even disagree on anything?" She laughed nervously.

Luisa sniffed, using the handkerchief Mirabel had made that morning to dry her tears. "I…I mean, Abuela… always told me never to use my strength to hurt another person. I was kind of terrified of accidentally hurting someone for years after I got my gift."

"I'm sorry," Alma said quietly. "I know, Luisa, you would never hurt anyone. Aside from perhaps Antonio, you are the gentlest member of our family."

Luisa snorted in disbelief.

"It's true," she said. "Gentleness is not weakness, or timidity. It is strength under control. And if anyone in this family knows how to control their strength, it is you, Luisa."

Luisa teared up again, at that. "Th - thank you!" She bawled.

Abuela smiled sadly. "My point in confessing this – this thread I have unraveled is this: Your gifts, when connected to me – to my dying miracle – were hard and burdensome. But Mirabel – this miracle is hers. Her miracle – it is centered around love and healing and truth, and – I think – the gifts associated with it are gentler and easier to bear. I think," she continued, "that when Mirabel returned the miracle – returned the magic – to Casita, she also returned the parts of your gifts that were missing, before. She made us whole again. Perhaps – now – your gifts will complete and compliment your personalities, instead of being a burden?"

They contemplated that for a moment.

"I think we need a plan to keep them from becoming a burden again," said Mirabel, still standing at the head of the table next to Alma, her hand on her shoulder.

Alma reached up to rest her hand on Mirabel's.

And they all agreed.

Casita seemed to approve as well, as it moved Mirabel's chair to the head of the table beside Alma's.

"Tío Bruno?"

He looked up from his game of juego de damas (2) with Camilo. "What's up, Antonio?"

He noticed a rat on Antonio's shoulder and another on his hand, and he leaned forward in concern. "What is it? Lareina? Lorenzo? What's up, guys?"

The rats stood on their hind legs and turned to chatter at Antonio, who nodded seriously and then translated. "Señora Rata's…teeth…itch?" He frowned. "I understand what they're saying but it's hard to describe. She misses her favorite…chewy thing."

The rats nodded and looked to Bruno expectantly.

"Uh…." He scratched his cheek. "I mean…I know what they're talking about. Señora Rata's teeth have always grown a bit faster than normal. And she tends to have favorite things to gnaw on to help…but they were all lost when Casita fell." He shrugged apologetically at Lareina and Lorenzo.

He could have sworn Lareina rolled her eyes at him before turning back and practically yelling at Antonio.

The five-year-old leaned away – as far as he reasonably could, with the source of the scolding coming from a rat on his shoulder – and his brow furrowed. "Lareina," he scolded back. "That's not nice." He nodded and looked back toward Bruno. "She says Señora Rata found a new favorite chewy at Señora Moreno's house, but you didn't know about it and you left it there."

Bruno froze for a moment, and he felt his shoulders tense up. "She. Found. A. New. Chewy. At…Lucía's house?" He whispered. Oh, no.

He leaned forward to glare at Lareina. "Didn't I tell you all specifically not to make a mess there? Not to destroy anything? And not to steal food? Hmmm?"

Lareina chattered loudly and Antonio explained that they didn't steal or destroy anything, it was a scrap of leather forgotten behind the desk, thank you very much, and as for the food –

"I can't repeat that, Lareina," he whispered, shocked. "I'm not allowed to use words like that."

When the boy stared wide-eyed at Lareina after her last outburst, the rat shook her head and nuzzled Antonio's cheek in apology, and then jumped off his shoulder and skittered away up the stairs, presumably to tell her friend that the message had been delivered and the chewy would be delivered soon.

At least, that's how Lorenzo and Antonio described it.

"What." Bruno stared at them, blank faced. "Wait - no!"

"Why not?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah, why not?" Camilo butted in, having finally moved past his hermanito being used by a rat to scold his tío.

"Be - because – because - " Bruno flailed, attempting to come up with a good excuse. "Because - "

"Señora Rata really wants her chewy, Tío," Antonio looked up at him with wide brown eyes. "I'll go with you."

When Bruno still hadn't moved –

"If you're scared," he whispered, "I'll go with you."

Bruno gave Antonio an awkward grin. He could feel himself breaking into a sweat already.

Option One: Walk through town as quietly as possible and hope no one noticed him.

Option Two: Pretend none of this had happened and just say 'no' to venturing outside the Casita a day after the magic had returned. Señora Rata would understand.

How much trouble could one rat cause, anyway?

Bruno hurried away from Casita, which had nearly chucked him out the front door with Antonio.

It turned out one disgruntled old lady rat could cause plenty of trouble when she put her mind to it. Apparently Señora Rata was a retired diva à la Lareina, and had demanded her rat family find something suitable to replace her…chewy.

The rats decided that perhaps one of Julieta's new potholders, or one of Pepa's slippers, or some of Mirabel's new fabric would suffice. (Not to mention a book from Luisa's room, one of Isabela's wooden garden trowels, a belt of Camilo's, one of Agustín's socks – and that man loved his clothes, so he was not pleased – and Dolores' wooden hummingbird.) Bruno shuddered. Mamá, thankfully, had discovered the little thieves before they could steal one of her undergarments, of all things. She'd chased them from her room and the look she'd given him could have melted metal.

Félix and Antonio had been spared, for now…but that would not last long unless he retrieved what Señora Rata actually wanted.

From Lucía's house.

Alllllll the way across town.

Lucía hummed to herself, a version of one of the songs she'd danced to with Josefina last night. She wiped her brow and stood on her tiptoes, attempting to fit another sheet on the line she'd strung back and forth between the walls of her home and the walls of the print shop, turning the entire courtyard into a makeshift laundry room.

True to her word, she washed every single sheet and blanket and pillowcase she'd borrowed from Sofia. Earlier today, Mateo and Miguel had come by to help her collect and return all of the mattresses and other items they'd borrowed from their neighbors, and she and Josefina and Papá had cleaned the bedrooms and put everything back where it belonged. It was hot, sweaty, and tiring work, but it was almost done, and she was happy.

She was happy she'd had the chance to get to know the Madrigals better, but she was also glad to have her home back to normal. While cleaning the art studio today, she took the book she had begun working on with Alejandro all those years ago from its place in the cabinet and laid it out on the desk.

If Bruno could start anew – if a man who had lived in the walls for ten years could begin finding joy in the things and people he loved, again – well – then so could she.

She wouldn't pressure herself. She would just look at it. See if the spark returned. See if she wanted to continue that story, or if she needed to start something different. She wasn't on a timeline, not anymore. Even if it took until she was seventy, that was fine.

She grabbed the last damp sheet out of the basket and turned on her heel, using her momentum to fling it up and over the last spot on the clothesline.

Instead of lying flat, it grew a head and arms and made a noise that reminded her of someone.

"Bruno?!"

He fumbled for a moment before he sheepishly pushed the wet sheet aside. "Uh - "

"Sorry!" She couldn't help but laugh. When he'd escaped from the cloth's clutches, the damp had stuck to his curls and made them stick up at wild angles. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there."

"Heh," he muttered, and quickly patted his hair down. He missed a spot. "So…uh…Señor…uh – your father said – I could just – come around back - "

"Hi!" Antonio popped up beside his tío. "Is Josefina home?"

Lucía nodded. "She's in her room, playing. You're welcome to go see her."

"But only for a few minutes! Remember Señora Rata!" Bruno called as he ran up the stairs.

Antonio paused to look back and give his tío a mock salute.

"So," Lucía said, wiping her hands on her washing apron and gathering her baskets. "What brings you back here?"

"Uh…Señora Rata," he mumbled.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And what about the lovely Señora Rata brings you here?"

He told her.

"Are you serious?" She blinked at him.

"They've never behaved that badly before!" He exclaimed, causing the curl he'd missed earlier to bounce wildly above his head. "It's like – they've always had a bit of an addiction to food and taking things – I mean, they are rats - but now – they're demanding things and scolding me for forgetting their favorite chewy through my five year old sobrino! I thought Lareina was in charge this whole time. Apparently not!"

Lucía snort-laughed and then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry – I'm – sorry." Her face sobered. "Do you know what it was?"

He grimaced. "I don't. Just – that it was leather. I – I'm sorry." He looked so miserably apologetic even his misplaced curl wilted and she tentatively reached over to pat his shoulder. He didn't flinch away, and she sighed in relief.

"It's okay. I can't think of anything valuable – sentimental or otherwise – that was made of leather in there. Perhaps a piece of a strap to a bag? I'll help you look."

He smiled at her. "Thanks."

He had a vision as soon as he walked in the room.

It was short and brief and benign, just like the vision he'd had when he'd touched the handle to his new door.

A child ran past him – through him – into to room, as vague green swirls solidified into images of papers and books and crayons and paint strewn about the room. The child – a boy – one from town, he'd seen him before but didn't know him – met up with a group of child-like shapes, which slowly solidified into children he did recognize – Josefina, Antonio, Juancho, Cecilia, Alejandra – all sitting or laying on the floor, working on - something.

A school project, perhaps?

Josefina pointed behind her to the cabinet, and Cecilia sprang up and opened it, pulling a pile of papers down to hand out so the rest of the kids could keep working.

It all dissipated in a matter of moments.

He blinked and shook his head, confused.

When he looked up, Lucía was frozen in place, a peculiar look on her face.

She noticed him looking at her and gave a weak smile, waving something in front of her.

A scrap of leather from an old bag, just as Lucía had predicted, worn and soft with age and with distinctive teeth marks, that she had found tucked away between the work desk and the cabinet.

"Is this the famous chewy Señora Rata has turned the Casita upside down trying to replace?"

Bruno nodded and didn't quite meet her eyes.

She was trying to ignore it – his vision - just like she'd promised she would, but it – it didn't – it wasn't –

It felt like something to be ashamed of, something to cover up and pretend it didn't exist – and he was frustrated because he didn't want to have this thing hanging over him that his family and friends attempted to ignore, but he also didn't want to have to pretend he didn't have a thing in the first place. He was a mess. How could he want people to acknowledge and ignore something at the same time?

He used to actually like his visions. As a kid. He used to be able to see things like televisions and mopeds and games and presents before they were invented, before they were given, before they found their way into the Encanto.

"Oh?"

Aaaand he'd said that last part out loud.

"Did you just have a vision?" She asked, still clutching the rat-bitten piece of leather in front of her. "Not that I expect you to tell me anything about it, because I don't, I just – you looked – different, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay."

She nodded, still hesitant.

"It wasn't anything bad."

"Does - did it hurt?"

He looked away. "No." It never really hurt physically, though doing a lot of visions back to back could give him a headache and tire him out, just like any work would. It did, however, begin breaking his heart as his visions got more and more confusing and more and more misunderstood - but that was a hurt he didn't want to get into right now.

"Okay."

Awkward silence hung between the two of them, and then Lucía gave him a crooked smile and attempted to explain her previous comments. "By 'different', I just meant - you looked – magical."

His face was blank. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"Green and glow-y."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Now that I know what to expect, I won't be so surprised next time. But your hair is still - " She stepped toward him, motioning vaguely above her own head. "Took away from the vibe, a bit."

"Oh." He tried again to flatten the stray curl, but it only stood up straighter. "The 'bad-omen' vibe?"

"No. The 'awe-inspiring mysterious prophet who sets the hero on his quest' vibe." She stopped just in front of him. "May I?"

"Uh – okay - "

She gently reached up, adjusted the curl, and set it in place, running her hand over his head to smooth it down and to be sure it was in the right place. She stepped back, and he felt himself flush, just a little.

"There," she said softly.

"Thanks."

"Well," he said after a moment, clearing his throat and tugging on his ruana. "I should probably take that before Señora Rata causes any more trouble."

Lucía handed him the scrap of leather, and his fingers curled around it. "Thanks, Lucía."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome anytime, Bruno."

A/N: Thank you for reading! I was waffling so much on what to do with the gift situation but I figured I should just pick a lane and go with it. There's a ton of great theories out there.

1) Mi amor! Te amo, siempre te querré - My love! I love you, I will always love you...

2)juego de damas - checkers

As always, thank you so much for the follows, favs, and reviews. They are so encouraging and make my day! God bless you and have a wonderful week.