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Chapter Text

When five-year-old Ignacio Madrigal returned to his present time with Bridget, he was quickly enveloped in a grateful hug by his mother. "Mamá," he protested as Mirabel kissed his cheek repeatedly, "knock it off."

"You might have saved my life, mijo," she commented, kissing him again. "If you hadn't used your Gift to put out the fire on me, there's no telling how much damage might have been done. Apart from that, you kept the flame of the candle from spreading further or going out while it was on the floor. How can I ever thank you enough?"

"Maybe by not smothering him with kisses?" Camilo chuckled. Mirabel shook her head but finally stopped incessantly kissing her youngest child. He promptly wriggled out of her grasp and tried to wipe her kisses off of his face.

"Mamá…" Mercedes wrung her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to almost kill you."

Mirabel turned to her and gave her a warm embrace. "I know, mija," she told her Giftless daughter. "I know it was an accident, and I've already forgiven you. I should have told you ahead of time that you might not get a Gift." She looked around at the gathered Madrigal children and went on, "I should have told all of you. It's been twenty-four years since this family learned that we are more than just our Gifts, and we should have made sure you all knew it right from the start, too."

"Are we there?" someone said.

Mirabel jumped at the stranger's voice, surprised to find that there was a young child in their midst who she didn't recognize holding the hand of another Bridget.

"Sí," the Bridget from the future replied, "we're here. Now remember what I told you, chamaco, no-"

"No one can know who I am," the boy interrupted, clearly parroting her earlier instructions, as he stared blankly straight ahead. "You just need me to help you find peace."

Could it be…? the younger Bridget thought. No, that would be impossible. She bit her lip, looking near tears as she took in the appearance of the child that her future self had brought here. He was a small, thin boy, with wispy blond hair, extremely pale skin, and eyes that were such a very light blue that they were practically colorless.

The boy turned his head to scan the crowd of Madrigals surrounding him, but his eyes did not seem to focus on any of them. "Hello," he said at last, staring at the narrow gap between Mirabel and Ignacio and walking forward.

"Who are you talking to?" Ignacio asked with a quizzical frown as he took a step back out of the boy's way.

"Rocco," the pale boy answered as he came to a stop and reached out to touch something only he could see.

The younger Bridget gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as a swirl of shadow and light coalesced into the shape of a child around the same size as the pale boy. "Dios mío," she murmured, enraptured by the shimmering form of this insubstantial being. "Is it true? Are you really… Rocco?"

A breathless voice issued from the ethereal child, "I am."

"I'm so sorry!" the younger Bridget sobbed.

"Don't be," was the whispered response. "My DNA was flawed with a developmental disorder. My life would have been full of pain and suffering. I am grateful that I was spared such a miserable existence."

"You mean…" The younger Bridget sniffled, feeling a mixture of relief and heartache. "…there wasn't anything I could have done?"

"Sí. There was nothing-" the voice faltered as the image of Rocco's spirit flickered briefly.

The pale boy whose hand had been resting on Rocco's shoulder this whole time was trembling, his breathing labored, as he struggled to maintain the connection.

"-nothing you could have done," the spirit said firmly, barely audible. "Don't carry that guilt around anymore. It's not your fault." Rocco's last words lingered, repeating, until he disappeared completely.

The pale boy fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath, as soon as the apparition vanished. The older Bridget was at his side in an instant, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, while the younger Bridget had tears pouring down her face. After a minute, the boy blindly reached for the woman beside him. She guided his arms to her neck and wrapped her arms around him. He hung on tightly as she rose to her feet with him clutched to her chest. She turned to look at the Madrigals of her past again, locking eyes with her mother last before body-jumping away with the pale boy.

Utterly perplexed, Mirabel turned from the place where the future version of her eldest daughter had been standing to look at the present-day version of her and asked, "What was all that about?"

Constanza rubbed her twin's back comfortingly as Bridget shook her head in response. "I don't know," she finally managed, her voice thick with emotion, "but whoever that boy is, he can talk to the dead. 'Rocco'," she choked on the name, "is what I decided to call my aborted first child."

Mirabel's jaw dropped. "Wh-what? How? When? Why?"

"It was an accident!" Bridget cried. "I didn't know I was pregnant, so when I body-jumped…" She trailed off.

"…the unborn child was left behind," her mother finished.

Bridget nodded. "I wasn't sure at first why I was feeling weird when I returned from the past, but after a while I figured out that it was because of pregnancy hormones - when my body realized there wasn't actually a fertilized egg implanted inside me and everything got flushed out. I was so devastated, I-"

"I had a brother?" Benedicto interrupted.

Bridget blinked down at her living son, searching his face for a moment before telling him, "Sí. He would be about eight years old now if he'd survived." She sighed. "But it wasn't meant to be."

"Wait a second," Angelo piped up, looking askance at his eldest sister. "He'd be my age?"

"Roughly," she confirmed. "About half a year younger than you, I guess."

Antonio cleared his throat as he entered the room flanked by Oscar and Ephraim. They had been standing in the doorway just long enough to deduce that Bridget had had a miscarriage several years ago, though they'd missed out on seeing the projection of Bridget's late first child and the departure of the two visitors from the future.

Bridget briefly met her lover's gaze before looking away in shame. He crossed the room to stand in front of her and reached out to cup her cheek, though his aim went awry so his hand came to rest on her neck instead. "I told you it wasn't your fault, Baby," he murmured lowly as he leaned in and attempted to kiss her nose.

Bridget blushed and moved her head so he would hit his target. "Sí, you did," she acknowledged softly.

"¿Tío Juan?" Benedicto spoke quietly as he tugged on the mute man's shirt. When Juan looked down at him, Benedicto said, "Necesito el baño." Juan obligingly took the boy's hand to accompany him out of the room. Ephraim stifled a chuckle as he read in the boy's mind that he didn't actually need the bathroom; he just hated it when his parents got all lovey-dovey.

"I'm starting to see that you were right," Bridget admitted to Antonio. "It's… not my fault." Just saying those words seemed to be a struggle for her, but she got a warm embrace for it.

"You need to say that more," Antonio commented, "and I think I know when you have to go first. Do you remember everything that happened on your fourteenth birthday?"

Bridget's brow furrowed. An awful lot had happened when she turned fourteen, including traveling through time to give Antonio her virginity - which was what led to Rocco's conception and subsequent demise when she body-jumped back to her birthdate. She had then proceeded to have sex with Antonio again, followed by… Her eyes widened. "I don't remember all of the sixty-nine," she whispered.

Antonio nodded slightly in confirmation. She needed to mind-slip back to that time and blow his mind with her cocksucking skills before coming back and, he imagined, doing it to him again tonight.

Ephraim hid a smile as he was privy to the goings-on in Antonio's mind. He used to find it awkward and embarrassing whenever someone started fantasizing about sex in his vicinity, but not anymore. Over time, and with a fair bit of therapy, he had reached the point where it didn't bother him. He had come to realize how lucky he was to live with such a loving family - especially considering what his half-sister had gone through being raised by their biological mother. So, if he had to put up with other people's sexual thoughts invading his mind on a regular basis, then he supposed that was a rather small price to pay overall.

Mirabel's mind whirred as she pondered the last look that future Bridget had given her. There was some significance to it, but she wasn't sure whether it was just about the pale boy or the entire experience of communicating with the deceased. She never wanted to think about death, though it was unavoidable as her family members grew older. She had begun to notice Bruno's vitality gradually declining. He moved more slowly now than he used to, and he seemed to get tired much faster. He was nearly seventy-five years old at this point, and his age was inevitably catching up with him.

As if drawn there by Mirabel's thinking of him, Bruno appeared in the doorway a moment later. He paused to lean against the doorframe while his eyes drank in the brood that would not exist if not for him. He had seen this in a vision, but he'd had no idea just how instrumental he himself would be to the continuance of la familia Madrigal.

Mirabel and Camilo were the only ones of their generation to bear any children, and Bruno had fathered all of them but one: Angelo, the biological son of both Mirabel and Camilo. The family line was already carrying on through Bruno's children's children, though the ages of his descendants were not indicative of their generation. His youngest son, Ignacio, was younger than his daughter Bridget's son, Benedicto, while his son Oscar was younger than his own son, Ephraim.

"Alright," Camilo said with a clap of his hands, "It's gotten late, so what say we all head to bed, hm?" There was a predictable wave of grumbling from the youngest Madrigals in response to that suggestion.

"Now now, children, mind your elders," Bruno said levelly as he pushed himself upright from the doorframe where he had been resting and walked into their midst.

"Yes, Tata," his three youngest chorused.

Bruno smiled warmly at them all, and after a round of goodnight hugs and kisses for everyone, the parents chivvied their children off to bed.

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Despite his smiles, Bruno seemed melancholy as the married thruple retired to their room that night.

"What's wrong, Tío Bruno?" Mirabel asked as they undressed.

Bruno looked at her with a fond sadness. "I'm tired, Novia. Old and tired."

Her face crumpled just as her dress did when it hit the floor. "I know," she whispered tearfully.

Bruno hated to see her cry, so he pulled her close and kissed her head. It was his time, he knew, and it seemed his wife was finally going to be able to accept it.

"I…" Mirabel sniffled. "I have to let you go. You can't stay with me forever after all."

Bruno shushed her and rocked her from side to side. "Even though I can't be with you like this forever, there will still be a piece of me living on inside you after I die." He broke their embrace to lay a hand on her chest. "Just keep me alive in your heart and I'll never truly be gone, alright?"

Mirabel wiped her eyes and nodded.

Camilo stood silently a few paces away, feeling like a third wheel until Bruno extended an arm beckoningly toward him and said firmly, "Vienes aquí, Único. Your place is here, too."

Camilo shuffled forward hesitantly. As soon as he was within reach, Bruno grabbed him and pulled him in with surprising strength for a man of his age.

Trapping his lovers together in a group hug, Bruno's voice turned serious. "You two take care of each other once I'm gone, okay?" He reached down and took ahold of their left hands. Raising them to eye level, he said, "These rings connect you to each other, with or without me. Don't let my absence tear you apart."

Camilo nodded solemnly, while Mirabel just stared at Bruno's ring on the hand that was holding hers.

"I love you both," Bruno commented as he gave their hands a light squeeze, "so much." He brought Mirabel's and Camilo's hands to his lips and kissed them both, looking into their eyes as he said, "Make love to me one last time, and I'll die a happy man."

Mirabel broke down completely at that statement, threw her arms around his neck, and began kissing him like there was no tomorrow - which, for him, there wasn't. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gently pulled back on it to try to make her ease up, but she only whined and held him tighter. He sighed but relented, letting her have her way with him. After all, he reflected silently, it was going to be their last night together.

Camilo fetched the lube from the bedside table drawer before moving to stand behind Bruno. He began nibbling on his earlobe, causing the older man to moan into Mirabel's mouth. He sought out his uncle's entrance with fingers that were heavily moistened with lubricant.

Bruno gasped as Camilo gently inserted a finger into his anus, breaking his and Mirabel's kiss and allowing them both to finally breathe again. She buried her face in his neck and began peppering it with kisses while he held her close, panting as Camilo's questing finger explored his rectum. "Fuck," Bruno cursed, grabbing Mirabel's hips and pulling her tight to him so he could grind his erection against her.

Camilo whispered sweet nothings in Bruno's ear as he stretched him wider by sliding a second finger into his hole.

"B-bed," Bruno stuttered after a minute, his legs trembling from the onslaught of his two devoted lovers. He had a bit of a reprieve as they guided him to the bed, where Mirabel sat on the edge. Before she could turn to lie down, however, Bruno laid his hands on her thighs to still her and spread her legs apart. He then dropped to his knees and began eating her out.

"Tío Bruno!" Mirabel cried in surprise as her hands flew to his head, holding him there as she shuddered under the ministrations of her uncle's talented tongue. Meanwhile, Camilo was slicking up his own dick with lube and stroking it to full hardness in preparation for anal penetration.

Once Bruno decided Mirabel was sufficiently wet, he let her go and struggled to his feet. A look of concern crossed her face, but he dispelled her worries by giving her one of his deep, passionate kisses that she loved so much and which never failed to leave her dazed afterwards. The next thing she knew, she was on her back in the middle of the bed with her head nestled in the pillows.

"Are you ready, Novia?" Bruno asked huskily as he dragged his penis up and down through the folds of her labia.

Mirabel could only nod as she was still gasping for breath after that kiss. He drove himself in all the way to the hilt in one fell swoop, eliciting a guttural groan from deep in her throat. He panted in time with her as Camilo slowly slid his cock into Bruno's asshole. "Oh God," Bruno gasped when Camilo bottomed out inside of him, "Único… Novia… los amo más de la vida misma."

This declaration brought tears to Camilo's eyes as well as Mirabel's. The two men began thrusting steadily in succession, drawing ragged moans of enjoyment from all three of them.

As he felt his orgasm approaching, Bruno's vision was blurred with tears of pain due to the current dangerous irregularity of his heartbeat. Fighting through the growing physical and mental anguish stemming from the myocardial infarction he was experiencing, he reached between himself and Mirabel in order to stimulate her clitoris. This drove her over the edge, causing her vaginal muscles to contract around his penis as he continued drilling into her. With Camilo's dick striking his prostate on every other thrust, Bruno was quickly spiraling toward oblivion as well. His ass clenched around Camilo's cock, bringing the younger man to climax.

Bruno gasped futilely for air as he came at last before falling down, dead, sandwiched between his niece and nephew postcoitus.

Mirabel held her uncle's corpse in a death grip, wailing his name desperately as though hoping if she lamented enough she could bring him back.

Tears poured down Camilo's face as he stroked his grieving wife's hair, but she didn't respond to his attempts to comfort her. He sniffled and cleared his throat to dislodge the postnasal drip caused by his own crying before he gingerly dismounted Bruno's body. As he did so, a disturbing idea occurred to him, Does having a sexual partner die during intercourse count as necrophilia? He shook his head immediately, banishing the thought from his mind.

"T-Tío… B-B-Bruno…" Mirabel continued sobbing uncontrollably, shaking so hard that Bruno's body was trembling in her arms.

"Mirabel," Camilo murmured as he knelt beside her and resumed stroking her hair, "Dulzura, he's gone. You need to let him go."

"No!" she screamed, hugging Bruno's corpse to her more tightly. "No! He can't be gone!"

Camilo was crestfallen. Denial, he thought as he sat back on his heels. They do say that's the first stage of grief, but this is taking it to the extreme. What am I supposed to do now? How can I convince her to let me move the body? It wouldn't be right for me to indulge her delusion by telling her she needs to let go so he can get up, would it? He bit his lip, pondering the situation for a minute, before he got out of bed without another word.

Mirabel ignored Camilo as he quickly pulled on a robe and slipped silently out the door. Either that or she was so focused on Bruno that she simply didn't notice.

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Félix was roused from a fitful sleep by an urgent knocking at his bedroom door. He yawned widely as he crawled out of bed and went to see who was there. The moment the door was open, he found his arms full of his middle child. "Camilo?" he asked, baffled. "Mijo, what's gotten you into such a state?"

"Papá," he choked out, trying in vain to keep his composure. "Tío Bruno is… is…" The floodgates burst open then and he was reduced to blubbering unintelligibly into his father's shoulder.

Félix closed his eyes as he held him close. He had a pretty good guess as to what must have happened. "He's with your Mamá now?" he offered, receiving a nod of confirmation from his mourning son. He sighed and rubbed Camilo's back soothingly. Pepa had passed away five years ago, but her memory still lingered in her widower's dreams most nights.

Once Camilo caught his breath, he began explaining to his father, "The thing is, Mirabel's not… uh… well. She's taking it really badly."

"How so?" Félix asked.

"She's in denial," Camilo clarified. "She refuses to believe he's gone. It's like she's expecting him to wake up."

"That's understandable," Félix assured his son.

"No, Papá, you don't understand." Camilo's face grew warm as he confessed, "He was… inside her… when he passed."

Félix was gobsmacked at this revelation.

"And she won't let me move the body," Camilo finished.

Félix rubbed his eyes and asked, "What do you expect me to do?"

"I dunno," Camilo sniffled. "I thought maybe you could talk some sense into her or something, since you know what it's like to lose a spouse."

"You think I have it all together?" Félix scoffed at the idea. "Your mother's death still haunts me to this day! I just got better at hiding it because I was sick of everyone's fucking pity!"

Camilo literally shrank away from his Papá upon hearing that. "'m sorry," he mumbled, his voice as small as his reduced stature.

Félix sighed as he looked down at the form of his son as a young boy. "No, I'm sorry, mijo. I shouldn't have lashed out. You're right that I have some idea of what you two are going through, but you need to realize everyone handles these things differently. It's possible that Mirabel's grief will have nothing in common with mine; after all, you can obviously already see that it's very different from your own, too." He gently lifted little Camilo's head with a finger under his chin so he could look him in the eye as he told his de-aged son, "Come on now, grow back up and let's go see to your wife."

Félix was right about one thing: Mirabel's grief was vastly unlike his own. It went beyond that, however, manifesting in a way that no one in their right mind could possibly hope to fathom. The sight that greeted Camilo when he returned to his bedroom with his father in tow was so downright disturbing that he almost vomited.

*
Mirabel had her legs wrapped tightly around Bruno's waist to ensure his dick didn't slip out of her sopping wet pussy as she thrust her hips upward against him while furiously massaging her clit, writhing in the throes of ecstasy as she came on his cock repeatedly.

When they finally managed to pry Bruno's body away from her, Mirabel had exhausted herself fucking it. Her limbs were heavy with fatigue and she was covered with sweat from exertion, but she had a blissful smile on her face as a steady stream of mixed fluids dribbled between her fingers from inside her vagina.
*

Camilo and Félix didn't tell anybody about the horror they had witnessed that night. The depths of depravity to which Mirabel had sunk was something they wanted to take to their graves. Still, even without that knowledge, one fact quickly became clear to everyone: the loss of her elderly husband had completely broken her mind.

Chapter Text

When Mercedes awoke on her seventh birthday, she did not get out of bed. It was scarcely a week since her Tata had died, and she felt the loss of him like a hole in her heart. She knew that he was old - around the same age as her grandparents - but it was still a heavy blow to lose a parent at such a young age. The worst part, though, was that she had basically lost her Mamá as well. True, Mirabel was still alive, but she had changed so drastically in the wake of Bruno's death that it was almost like she was a different person.

Over the last two years, Mirabel had been helping her Giftless daughter learn what the responsibilities were for the Keeper of the Candle, preparing her to eventually take her place as head of la familia Madrigal, but nobody expected that day to come this soon. Granted, Mirabel had always praised her youngest daughter for being a quick learner, and the matriarch had recently suggested that Mercedes was ready to take on a more active role in assisting with her duties, but the idea of having to take over completely already? Well, it scared the girl. She was constantly plagued by what ifs: What if she messed up? What if the candle went out? What if Casita collapsed?

Mercedes's defeatist musings were interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door. She turned her head and called out halfheartedly, "Who is it?"

"It's your Papá," came Camilo's voice, sounding just as miserable as Mercedes felt.

"Come in," she sighed, rolling over onto her side to face the door as it opened and the man who had given birth to her walked in.

"Happy birthday, mija," he offered, the smile on his face clearly forced as it did not reach his eyes. When Mercedes merely grunted in response, his face fell. "I know," he said as he approached and sat on the edge of her bed. "I know it's hard."

"It's not fair," she spat as tears welled up in her eyes.

Camilo nodded in agreement as he tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear before bending down to kiss her cheek. "You're right, it's not. But don't forget, you have the rest of your family here to help you when you need it."

"Most of it, anyway," Mercedes grumbled.

Camilo sighed. "Come on, it's breakfast time. Everyone's waiting for you."

"I'm not hungry," Mercedes lied bluntly.

The corner of Camilo's mouth twitched. "Really? Because I could have sworn I just heard some growling coming from under your blankets. Are you hiding a jagupard in your bed?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "No."

"Huh…" Camilo feigned confusion. "That's odd. I would have said it must be your stomach, but that can't be true if you're really not hungry."

Mercedes growled in frustration just as her stomach growled again.

"You wouldn't lie to your Papá though, would you, mija?" Camilo coaxed.

Mercedes flinched guiltily. "Fine, I am hungry," she confessed, "I just don't want to go out there."

"I don't blame you," Camilo admitted, "but you can't hide away from everything."

"Why not?" she asked petulantly. "Why can't I just stay in here?"

Camilo bit his lip. "There have been times I'd like to lock myself in my room too, Mercy, believe me, but ask yourself this: how do you think your Tata would feel about us shutting out the world and just wallowing in our grief?"

Mercedes's face crumpled. "He'd be sad," she answered.

"That's right," Camilo confirmed. "Your Tata wouldn't want us to give up. He actually said…" His voice faltered as his throat grew tight at the memory. "Before he died, your Tata said not to let his absence to tear us apart."

"He…" Mercedes's brow furrowed. "He knew he was gonna die?"

Camilo swallowed thickly. "I think… I think he saw it in a vision. I found a proof in his desk that showed… the moment of his death."

Mercedes shivered at the thought. "D-do you think he saw… my death, too?"

"Oh, Mercy," Camilo sighed. "You can't be thinking about stuff like that. Your Tata didn't let the fact that he was dying leave him dispirited; he was focused on his family right 'til the end. His last words to your Mamá and me were…" He took a deep, steadying breath before telling her, "…that he loved us more than life itself."

Mercedes's jaw dropped.

Camilo rubbed his eyes in a failed attempt to hide the fact that he had teared up. "Alright, enough stalling," he said, gently patting her side before standing.

"Papá?" Mercedes hesitated a moment before the words came tumbling out in a nervous rush, "Will you be me so I don't have to-"

"No," Camilo interrupted sternly. He didn't raise his voice, but the glare that he leveled at his daughter left her cowering. "Shame on you, Mercedes Madrigal. Don't you ever ask that of me again." He turned on his heel and strode to the door, pausing in the doorway with his hand on the jamb and his head bowed. His voice was brittle as he said, "Since you're not hungry, you can skip breakfast. Just stay in here and think about what you did that was wrong. I'll come and get you before lunch."

Mercedes broke down sobbing as the door slammed shut, unaware that her Papá was crying too as he stormed away.

Camilo swiped away the tears from his eyes before reaching the dining room, feeling unsettled having over a dozen pairs of eyes all staring silently at him upon his entrance. "She said she wasn't hungry," he informed everyone, trying to sound nonchalant as he took his seat. "We can eat without her."

"I'll bring her something after," Julieta suggested as people slowly began eating. "Is she sick, or just-"

"I'll take care of it," Camilo snapped quietly. Julieta was visibly taken aback by this response, and he immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Tía Julieta," he sighed. "Thank you for offering, but Mercedes is my daughter and I'd rather be the one to help her through this."

Julieta nodded in understanding as she turned to look at her youngest daughter, wishing she knew how to help her. She wasn't used to not being able to fix things. There was a time when it seemed like any problem under the sun could be resolved by one of her panacea arepas and a heart-to-heart pep talk, but now? It hadn't escaped her notice that her food didn't have the same cure-all effects that it used to. Its efficacy had been reduced ever since the death of her husband thirteen years ago. She wasn't sure whether the magic of her Gift was weaker, or if she just wasn't able to use it to its fullest extent anymore. Either way, she had been feeling particularly defunct since her grandson Angelo had received his Gift three years ago. Unfortunately, all the healing kisses in the world couldn't restore the boy's mother to her right mind.

Chapter Text

Mercedes sniveled into her pillow for a while after Camilo stormed out. She knew that it was wrong to lie, of course, but it seemed like her Papá wasn't upset by her lying about not being hungry just because she didn't want to go out and have breakfast with everyone. No, the thing that bothered him was apparently the fact that she asked him to take her place by changing into her. That was such a small, simple thing, though! Why would he react so negatively to that when it was his Gift?

Rolling onto her side, she pulled her knees in to her chest and hugged her legs as she thought back to the day of her Gift Ceremony - two years ago today - when she learned that she was Giftless. She had thrown a hissy fit, and the only reason Casita hadn't burned down was because her big sister used her Gift to bring their little brother back in time in order to use his Gift - which he had only just gotten two months ago - to contain the flames of the candle that she had knocked out of her mother's hands.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, you know," Benedicto informed her.

Mercedes's nephew Benedicto's Gift could be used to turn himself or anyone else into an animal at will. The drawback of this, as she learned when he transformed her into a tapir, was that that person couldn't talk like a human anymore until they changed back.

Camilo's Gift was similar to that: he had the ability to shapeshift in order to take on the appearance of another person. She couldn't think of any downsides to this; it wasn't like he'd be unable to talk normally or anything. Granted, it was very disorienting when Benedicto turned her into a tapir, but becoming a different human couldn't be that strange! Besides, Camilo was almost forty! He'd been changing into people for nearly thirty-five years! Surely he'd be used to it by now?

Unless… Maybe it wasn't about his Gift at all? Maybe it wasn't that he didn't like what she was asking him, but rather why she was asking it. If her Papá used his Gift to be her, then she wouldn't have to do anything herself, which meant she could shirk her responsibilities by foisting them off on him.

Thinking on that, Mercedes supposed having a Gift did make life a lot more complicated. It was hard not to rely on magic to do everything when it was so readily available, but magic wasn't infallible either. Was that the lesson she was meant to learn here? Maybe that was why only Giftless Madrigals could be head of the family: because the backbone of la familia Madrigal had to be purely human, so it would survive even if the magic failed or ran out.

Chapter Text

Camilo stood outside his youngest daughter's bedroom with a tray of food and an anxious heart. He had one hand poised to knock but was unable to bring himself to do so. After a minute, he sighed and went back to holding the tray with both hands so it wouldn't overbalance.

He studied the design on the door as he tried to work up his courage. Since her special door dissolved when she didn't get a Gift, Mercedes had moved into the room that used to be Mirabel's before it was made into a guest room when Alma was deposed. The design hadn't changed much despite being altered three times: the candle was the central focus of it, but the person depicted holding it now was a little girl with her head bowed so her face was obscured by her hair.

Camilo was startled by a knocking sound coming from the bottom of the door in front of him. He looked down at his feet and caught the briefest glimpse of a child lying on the floor before whoever it was giggled and then vanished with a snap of their fingers.

"Come in," Mercedes called from inside her room.

Camilo shook his head bemusedly as he shifted his grip on the tray so he could open the door and walk in. "I brought you something to eat," he offered, using his foot to close the door behind him.

Mercedes's face brightened, her stomach gurgling in anticipation of finally getting some food into it again. "Gracias, Papá," she gushed as he set the tray on the small table by her bed. She sat up and began eating ravenously.

Camilo sat in the chair across from her and drummed his fingers on the table until she looked up at him.

Seeing the serious look on his face, Mercedes swallowed and said, "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to ask you to do something as me just to avoid doing it myself."

Camilo closed his eyes. "Yes, it was." He took a deep breath before continuing, "But I could have handled it better."

Mercedes blinked a few times in surprise, seeing a strange sadness in his eyes when he opened them. Cocking her head to one side, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I shouldn't have snapped at you," Camilo explained. "I feel really bad about that. I never wanted any of my children to fear me, ever, but the look on your face when I left earlier just screamed 'don't hurt me.'" He shook his head, knocking loose a tear from the corner of his eye as he said tremulously, "I would never hurt you, Mercy."

Mercedes was floored. Was he… apologizing? "It's okay, Papá. You were right to be angry about me trying to use your Gift to get out of something just because I don't feel like doing it."

Camilo huffed ruefully. "You're not the first, and you won't be the last. The thing is, I took your Mamá's place once when she asked me to, about twenty-three years ago, and it was the best decision of my life."

Mercedes's brow furrowed. "How so?"

Camilo surveyed his seven-year-old daughter for a moment, considering how he should approach this subject. "She asked me to become her on a night when she didn't feel like sleeping with your Tata."

Mercedes wrinkled her nose in distaste at the direction the conversation was going.

"If I hadn't done it," he went on, "then your sisters would never have existed, because that was when they were conceived." After a pause, he added softly, "I never wanted to be a father… until I became one."

Mercedes's mouth fell open. "Bridget and Connie were an accident?"

Camilo flinched. "I don't like thinking of it in those terms, but that is what it boils down to, yes. A happy accident, but an accident nonetheless."

Mercedes's expression shifted several times as she warred with herself over whether she really wanted to ask a question or if she'd rather just forget the whole thing. "What was the big deal?" she blurted at last. "I thought grownups like sleeping together. Why did Mamá not want to?"

Camilo stifled a chuckle of amusement that the girl's curiosity had won out. "It could have been any number of reasons. She was really stressed out since she had so recently been made head of the family, for one thing. Not to mention the fact that the whole town had been invited to her birthday party that night so she could make a speech covering a lot of difficult topics. There was a woman there who caused a big scene, throwing around profanities and insults at our family in general as well as your Mamá personally. Apart from that, she was in the early stages of her first pregnancy. She didn't know about it yet, but the hormones were affecting her mood. On the other hand, sometimes people just don't feel like doing something, even if they normally enjoy it."

"But why couldn't she just tell Tata that?" Mercedes wondered. "Why did she need you to take her place?"

"That's my point, Mercy," Camilo said gently. "She could have told him she didn't want to do it that night, and he would have been fine with it. When your Tata found out the next morning that I had taken her place, he wasn't upset that it was me who had slept with him, but he was livid about the fact that we had made him think I was her. The look on your Mamá's face when he was reaming her out…" He paused. "It was similar to how you looked when I got short with you earlier. The fact of the matter is: deceit is an ugly thing, and it always hurts - even if you don't mean any harm by it."

"Yeah," Mercedes mumbled, "I can see that now. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," Camilo told her. "I'm not going to do anything as you, but I will do everything I can to help you. Whenever you need me, all you have to do is ask."

"Right." Mercedes nodded, giving him a small flicker of a smile. "I love you, Papá."

"I love you, too," Camilo replied as he stood. Mercedes leapt to her feet and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. He returned her embrace, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as another tear snuck out. His heart felt a million times lighter now that he had cleared the air and made amends with his daughter. He just wished it was that easy to reconcile the issues with his wife.

Chapter Text

"Daddy?" Bridget murmured against Antonio's chest.

"Hm?" he responded absently, sated and blissful after making love to the girl of his dreams for the past hour.

"Papá has been really sad lately," she ventured.

Antonio's brow furrowed as he looked down at her. "Of course he has, Baby," he replied as he stroked her hair. "He's just lost your Tata. He's grieving. Aren't you grieving too?"

"Yes." Bridget ran her fingers through his chest hair. "But you help me feel better."

He gave her a squeeze. "I'm glad I can help you feel better."

"I…" Bridget hesitated. "I want to do something to help Papá feel better."

"Oh? And what's that?" Antonio asked. When Bridget remained silent, he combed his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp as he pressed, "What did you have in mind, Baby?"

"I want to have sex with him," she answered at last. Antonio's hand stilled, tightening into a fist with her locks trapped between his fingers.

Her hiss of pain alerted him to what was happening, so he forced his fingers apart and tried to stay calm. His teeth clenched, he gritted out, "Why? Why that? Why not something else - anything else? Why do you want to have sex with him? Am I not enough for you?"

Bridget gasped as she reared up to look directly at Antonio. "That's not it at all! You're wonderful, Toni, you really are! You're attentive and thorough and-"

"Then why?" he growled.

"Because he needs it!" she blurted tearfully. "He needs the emotional closeness, and Mamá has been neglecting him, so I want to pick up the slack! You come up with someone else who can do it as well as I could and you won't hear another word about it from me, but otherwise don't forbid me from helping my family when I'm the only one who can!"

Antonio deflated in the face of her tirade. "If that's all it is…" He swallowed thickly. "If it's just about the emotional closeness, then you don't have to have penetrative sex with him, right?"

Bridget frowned at him. "You know the emotional closeness is deeper when there's penetration. …Pun not intended."

Antonio huffed and muttered grudgingly, "Sure. But, Bridget…" He took a deep breath and searched her eyes. "What if he gets you pregnant?"

He expected her to flinch when he brought that up, but she stared at him steadily, undeterred, and said, "It's not guaranteed to happen. And if it does, then it's just meant to be."

"You and your 'meant to be's," Antonio grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Bridget bristled. "What was that?"

"You talk about what's 'meant to be' as though your actions don't have consequences!" Antonio burst out, causing her to recoil so hard that she fell off the bed. He sat up to check that she was unharmed and was taken aback by what he saw. The fuck did I say? he wondered to himself.

Bridget was trembling, her arms wrapped around her middle, and she was whispering over and over like a mantra, "It's not my fault."

Antonio blanched when he realized what he had done: Bridget was reminded of Rocco, who had accidentally been aborted as a consequence of her using her Gift during the early days of her pregnancy. "Shit," Antonio swore as he tumbled out of bed and went to pull her close, but she batted him away.

"It's not my fault, it's not my fault," she continued repeating.

"Of course it's not your fault, Bridget, I was just being an ass," Antonio assured her. "Forgive me?"

Bridget blinked at him through her tears. "You really think I didn't consider everything before I brought it up? That I don't understand the concept of consequences? When I found out my brother had been raped, do you think I didn't agonize - for hours - over what to do about it? Do you think the decision to write the letter that ensured it would always happen was one that I made lightly? What the fuck, Toni?
"I'm fully aware of the repercussions that could come from the choices I make, and I'm fully willing to accept them. I know it's possible that I could become pregnant by my Papá if I have sex with him. But there's also a chance that I won't become pregnant. If I do become pregnant by my Papá, there's a chance that it won't be viable. I understand that. But it's also possible that it will be viable. It's possible that I could give birth to my own half-brother or half-sister. I'm aware of that. And after a lot of thought, I've decided I'm willing to take the risk and accept that possibility if it occurs."

"So why did you even bother to ask me, then?" Antonio asked, downcast.

Bridget promptly answered, "Because I'm in a committed relationship with you, and since we're a couple I know my decisions affect you too. I wouldn't go behind your back on this."

"You just said you were going to do it anyway, so what's the difference whether I give you permission?" Antonio asked petulantly. "Were you just giving me a heads-up?"

A loud crack echoed through the branches of the tree when Bridget slapped him hard across the face. "I said no such thing!" she snapped. "I only said I was willing to accept the consequences if it happened! You of all people should understand that just because I think about something or want something doesn't mean I'm going to act on it! I don't care that you lusted after children before we got together, because you never did anything about it! I've been sexually attracted to my Papá for longer than I care to admit, but I never did anything sexual with him before I talked to you about it, and if you had said no then I never would have!"

Antonio gingerly touched his cheek. "As if you would take no for an answer," he mumbled before wincing in anticipation of another slap.

Bridget sighed heavily. "If you gave me a valid, reasonable no, then yes, I would accept that answer, but only after discussing it and coming to an agreement as a couple. We may roleplay as Daddy and Baby, but you're not above me, and neither am I above you. We're equals. Besides, your answer isn't even the primary determining factor here. Even if you say yes, it's going to come down to whether my Papá consents to it or not."

She's so fucking persuasive, Camilo doesn't stand any better chance against her than I do, Antonio thought ruefully. Heck, he agreed to get pregnant when she asked him to so they could go through it together. There's no chance he's going to be able to resist her coming on to him, especially now while he's in mourning. I just hope he doesn't come to regret it after the fact, when his senses are cleared and he realizes what he's done. "Well then, let's discuss it," he said at last. "You claimed there was no one else who could do it other than you, but what about Dolores? She could give him the emotional closeness of penetrative sex with no risk of pregnancy."

"While that is true, I have counterarguments to that suggestion," Bridget told him evenly. "Number one: we don't know whether she would even be willing to have sex with him. Number two: his relationship with her is not the same as his relationship with me, so I doubt she could give him the same level of comfort that I could. Number three: given my previous experience with him, I already know what he likes. He'd be able to just enjoy himself rather than having to explain his kinks and turn-ons to a new partner. And finally, since you keep coming back to the subject of me potentially becoming pregnant, consider this: you just came inside me. If I was going to get pregnant, your sperm would surely get there first, wouldn't it?"

Antonio sighed. He had to concede that all of those points were valid. I guess she really did think through this at length before bringing it up to me. "Alright, but what if he doesn't want to do it? Are you going to pressure him into it?"

Bridget's jaw dropped. "Of course not! What the Hell, Toni?!"

"Hear me out!" Antonio began backpedaling. "If he's reluctant at first but you present him with your - admittedly solid - reasoning, he might agree against his better judgement just to indulge you."

Bridget's lip trembled as she began tearing up again. "I don't want that. I just want to help him cope by proving to him that he's still loved. Is that so terrible?"

"No, of course not," he assured her as he clumsily pulled her close after his hand accidentally brushed against her cheek when he went to put his arm over her shoulder. "It's a wonderful sentiment, and you have the best of intentions, but this is a really tough situation with no simple solution."

"What if…" Bridget bit her lip. "What if it's his idea?" Antonio looked askance before she continued, "I could approach him normally and just drop subtle hints without suggesting anything outright, and if he starts to respond in kind I'll encourage him to continue. Then it will only go as far as he's comfortable with, since he'll be the one who started it."

"That… sounds fair," Antonio replied hesitantly, albeit quite manipulative. After a pause he finally gave in, "Okay, we have an agreement. You can pursue him for this. Just… make sure he really wants it, yeah? If he stops short of penetration, don't entice him to go further."

Bridget nodded firmly. "I'll let him set the pace and the progress. When he stops, I'll stop."

Chapter Text

After dinner the next night, Bridget caught Camilo just before he went through the door to the tower rooms. "Papá?" she called softly as she laid a hand on his arm.

He jumped slightly, turning to her with an expression of surprise. "Oh, mija. Sorry, I didn't notice you there."

"It's okay," she assured him, running her fingers up and down his arm in a comforting gesture, though her hand was moving so slowly that it seemed vaguely sensual.

Camilo tried to smile at her but couldn't manage more than a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Buenas noches, mi vida," he said as he reached out and stroked her hair affectionately.

Bridget hummed happily and leaned into his touch, looking at him through half-lidded eyes with a coy smile on her face.

Camilo's brow furrowed. He was picking up on the fact that she was in the mood for sex, though she had not come right out and said it. "Are you…" He hesitated. "How are things? You holding up okay?"

"It's hard," she commented huskily, "but I'm taking things as they come. Feeling the love of my family members helps."

Camilo swallowed thickly. Judging by the way she was salaciously emphasizing certain words there, he was pretty sure that she was coming on to him. "Do you… want to…?"

Bridget looked sincerely into his eyes. "Only if you want to," she asserted.

Camilo sighed, searching his eldest daughter's face for a minute before pulling her into a tight embrace and kissing her head. "I assume you cleared this with Antonio?"

"Of course," she replied, holding him close.

Camilo was silent for a while. Mirabel had been cold and vindictive toward him ever since Bruno's death, leaving him starved for affection. "Yes," he whispered at last, "I want to." He broke their embrace and headed toward Bridget's room.

"Aren't you going to tell-" Bridget began.

"No," Camilo interrupted tersely, his footsteps not faltering.

Bridget stared in disbelief. Was he going to have sex with her tonight behind Mirabel's back?

When he realized she hadn't moved, he gave her a look that brooked no arguments and told her, "Ahora." She obeyed his command to go with him immediately, wondering whether this was such a good idea after all.

Camilo pinned Bridget with her back to the door within seconds of her closing it behind them. Her heart beating in her throat, she murmured shakily, "P-Papá?" He stopped and waited for her to speak, at which point she realized there was a haunted, almost tortured look in his eyes. She had thought Mirabel was neglecting him, but now she could see the evidence of emotional abuse that he had been keeping hidden. After a deep breath, she said, "My safewords are arepa for stop and azul for wait. Biting is still a hard limit. If you call me Baby I'll roleplay that, but if you don't then I'll just be me."

Camilo leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. "Am I remembering correctly that you like it a bit rough?"

"Sí," she confirmed, her breath quickening. He briefly ground his erection against her before taking a step back and undressing. Bridget hastily stripped as well, and he threw himself at her the moment she was naked.

The door shuddered as she was slammed into it, and he attacked her lips with his own. He eagerly invaded her mouth with his tongue as he raised one of her legs to his hip and guided himself to her entrance with his other hand. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and shifted her weight so she could lift her other leg and hook it around his waist, using that as leverage to pull him in.

Camilo and Bridget both gasped, breaking their kiss, as his cock was driven deep inside her. "Oh, fuck, Papá!" she cussed as she tightened her legs around him and gyrated.

"Ngh… Gah…" Camilo struggled to form words as his eldest daughter rode him upright. He gripped her ass and began pounding into her, making the door behind her rattle with every thrust. It wasn't long before Bridget threw her head back, knocking it against the door, as she came with a shout. The clenching of her vagina around his dick caused his eyes to roll back with pleasure. "God, you feel so good," he blurted as he sped up, fucking her through her orgasm and leaving her gasping for breath. He continued thrusting at top speed, chasing his own orgasm that was still somehow beyond his reach.

Bridget groaned raggedly as she hurtled swiftly toward a second climax. This sound drew his attention, and he admired the smooth expanse of her neck for a moment before latching onto it. "P-Papá," she stammered, surprised at the sudden feeling of moist suction on her throat. She became incoherent after that, however, as her next orgasm overtook her.

Camilo gave a desperate moan, sucking fiercely on his daughter's neck as he continued thrusting so hard that the door behind her made an ominous cracking noise.

With her head tipped back as far as it was and Camilo practically eating her throat, Bridget could hardly breathe. The longer it went on, the more lightheaded she felt, but at the same time it seemed like the pleasure from her Papá screwing her senseless with all his might was heightened by the lack of air.

Camilo tore his mouth away from Bridget's neck when he finally came, shuddering, while she clenched around him once again. He shot his load so deep inside her, she could swear she felt it gushing powerfully right up against her cervix. With her ability to breathe restored, the ensuing rush of euphoria made her third climax of the night the most powerful orgasm of her life.

Now that Camilo was no longer fastened to her neck, Bridget could return her head to a normal position. The part he had been sucking on tingled, and she would be shocked if she found out later that he hadn't left a hickey there. She opened her mouth to make a comment about that, only to realize a moment later that he was crying. "Papá?" she asked, concerned, as he buried his face in her neck and wept. She held him tighter and rubbed his back soothingly. What the fuck did Mamá do to him? she wondered as he sniffled, finally regaining his composure.

"Thank you," he muttered hoarsely before gently pressing his lips to hers and kissing her sweetly. She returned this kiss in kind, lowering her feet to the floor after his dick slipped out of her vagina. He broke their kiss and pulled back a bit, tiny droplets of moisture from his tears glistening on his eyelashes. His lower lip trembled a bit as he whispered, "Take me to bed?"

Chapter Text

Bridget nodded and led him to her bed, where he promptly lay down on his back and squeezed his eyes shut. "Cover me with kisses," he requested, his words quavery, "and tell me that you want me just the way I am."

Her face crumpled as she heard the desperation in his voice. She climbed on top of him and began by kissing his forehead. "I want you," she said as she kissed first one temple and then the other, "just the way you are." She moved on to kiss his cheekbones next, murmuring as she did so, "You are at your best when you're just being yourself."

Camilo gasped a sob at this last statement.

"I love you…" She kissed his nose. "…for you." She kissed his jaw on both sides as she declared, "I need you, as you." She kissed his chin, then crawled backwards so her face was level with his shoulders.

Tears were leaking out from behind his closed eyes as he sniffled.

"You are a wonderful man," she said as she kissed one collarbone. "A wonderful father," she added as she kissed his other collarbone. "And a wonderful husband," she finished.

Before she could kiss anywhere else, Camilo muttered, "No I'm not."

Bridget's eyebrows shot up. I'm going to kill my Mamá! she thought viciously. How dare she make him feel that way?! She bit his neck then, causing him to cry out in shock. His eyes flew open to meet her stony stare as she stated, "That's a lie, and whoever told you that is a fucking bitch."

Camilo shook his head. "Don't talk that way about your Mamá."

Bridget bit his neck again, drawing another cry from him, before she snarled, "She had no right to say something like that to you! I know she's struggling to deal with Tata's death, but that's no excuse! We all loved him, we all miss him, we're all grieving, but we don't tear each other down when we're suffering, we build each other up!"

Camilo was staring off to the side, not meeting her eyes, until she gripped his jaw and forced him to look at her.

"Why is she doing this to you?" Bridget growled.

He shook his head. "Just forget it, Brid-"

"Soberana," she cut across him before he could finish saying her name.

"S-Soberana," he stuttered, realizing that Bridget had now assumed her dominatrix persona. "It's not a big d-eal!" he squeaked when she pinched his nipples firmly between her fingernails.

"I'll decide if it's a big deal or not," she hissed as she twisted his nipples harshly. "Now talk! What the fuck is her problem with you lately?!"

Camilo groaned but shook his head. He didn't want to burden his daughter with the knowledge of what had happened the night Bruno died.

Bridget narrowed her eyes. "I guess we'll do this the hard way, then." She laid her hands on the sides of his neck and depressed the arteries there.

He gasped, his eyes widened, as he immediately felt the reduction of oxygenated blood in his brain. He gripped her arms, searching her face and seeing how deadly serious she was. His lips trembled as a sudden dread washed over him: he had no nonverbal safeword to convey his limit to her. When they had done breath play before, his signal for her to stop was for him to drop his legs down flat, but that wouldn't work now because his legs were already flat on the bed and pinned beneath her.

The next moment, however, he felt the rush of bloodflow being restored when she released him. "How about it?" she asked, her tone saccharine. "Going to tell me now, or do I need to keep going?"

"You can't engage in asphyxiation play without establishing nonverbal safewords," he chastised her.

"And you can't let one demented person's ravings tarnish your opinion of yourself," she countered, digging her nails into his pectorals and leaning in so close that the tips of their noses touched. "What," she began, pressing her nails in deeper with every word, "is. her. issue?"

Camilo gulped, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn't see her face as he admitted, "She resents me for taking your Tata away."

Bridget pulled back, leaving a few red crescent-shaped divots in her Papá's chest. "You didn't take him away," she insisted. "He died."

Camilo covered his face with his hands as he expounded, "I took his body away from her."

Bridget blinked, puzzled. "She's upset that you moved his body?"

Camilo's voice shook as he clarified, "That I removed his body from hers."

Bridget stared at him, her mouth agape, as her brain sluggishly tried to process what he had just told her. "R-removed from?" she stammered. "As in… took out of her?"

Camilo sobbed as he nodded, still hiding his face.

Bridget suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. "You mean… Tata died while he was… having sex with Mamá?"

"And with me," Camilo added under his breath. "I was… in him… when he died."

"Holy shit," Bridget swore, her hand covering her mouth as the reality crashed down on her. "You had sex with a dead body?"

Camilo shook his head slightly. "All I did after he was gone was pull out."

"Wh… Why did you emphasize the word 'I'?" Bridget asked, her voice shaking with revulsion at the implication.

Camilo sniffled miserably. "Because your Mamá…" He choked before he could finish his sentence.

"She…" Bridget shuddered. "She tried to fuck his corpse?"

"She didn't just try," Camilo uttered reluctantly. "She did. I had to get him away from her or she would have kept doing it."

"And that's why she's been abusing you?" Bridget checked, stunned. "Because you stopped her from desecrating his body further?"

Camilo nodded.

"I'm gonna kill her," Bridget snarled.

Camilo took his hands away from his face at last and stared at his daughter, aghast. "Bridget," he breathed. "You don't mean that."

Her hands balled into fists as she stared down at her Papá. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," she demanded.

"She's your Mamá," he pointed out shakily.

"Hardly," Bridget scoffed. "She's my cousin at best."

Camilo's face crumpled. "At the very least she's your stepmother, since she's my wife."

"An evil stepmother," Bridget spat. "I can't believe you're defending her!"

"She's sick," Camilo bleated.

"I'll say," Bridget concurred, wrinkling her nose.

"She needs help," Camilo posited.

"She's beyond help," Bridget asserted.

"Your Tata wanted me to take care of her after he was gone," Camilo informed her. "He had proposed to both your Mamá and me, but he said he didn't mind that I didn't want to marry him as long as I married your Mamá so she wouldn't be left all alone when he died."

"Wake up and smell the café, Papá," Bridget snapped in frustration. "Despite Tata's intentions, Mamá doesn't love you anymore! She's using the fact that you're married as a means to keep you miserable! Relationships are supposed to be a two-way street, but she's not giving you squat while you're lying there under her heels letting her crush you! Stop clinging to the 'honorable' course of action before it destroys you! She's draining you dry, taking advantage of your good heart, and it's left you half-dead inside!"

Camilo shook his head. "You're wrong."

"Like Hell I am!" she shouted.

"Let me up," Camilo said evenly.

"What?" Bridget asked, wrong-footed.

"Let me up," Camilo repeated. "I'm going to bed. Whether you believe me or not, your Mamá needs me, so I'm going to her."

Bridget deflated and climbed off of him. "I love you, Papá," she called after him as he walked away.

He stopped, looked back at her, and whispered, "I love you too, mija."

Chapter Text

After Camilo left, Bridget snuck into the kitchen to eat something in the hopes that it would make her hickey disappear before Antonio could see it. She ascended the ramp that rose in a spiral around the tree in their room, meeting Antonio just before the bedroom landing. He looked her up and down, his face inscrutable.

Bridget bit her lip, speaking in her Baby voice, "Hi Daddy."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. She wants to roleplay with me now? Maybe they didn't have sex after all… "Don't you 'hi Daddy' me," he said gruffly. "What were you doing out after curfew?"

"Um," Bridget mumbled, "I was just playing and I lost track of time."

How far did the two of them actually go? Antonio wondered. "That bruise is from playing?"

Bridget touched her neck guiltily.

"Aha!" Antonio looked triumphant. There weren't any marks on her neck, but she had been done in by her conscience. "So not only were you being naughty, but you lied about it as well!"

"Shit," Bridget stage whispered.

"And you're using grownup words," Antonio observed. "What am I going to do with you?"

Bridget fidgeted. "Cuddle?"

Antonio's brow furrowed. She must be exhausted if she only wants to cuddle. Is Camilo really that much better than me? Or is she just emotionally drained? "What happened, Bridget?"

Bridget sighed, unsurprised that he had broken character. In her normal voice she asked, "Can we please cuddle? Then I'll explain."

Antonio nodded, his heart sinking through the floor. What was so bad that she couldn't just tell him outright? He tried to banish the thought that she might leave him, but it lingered in the back of his mind even as they both undressed and climbed into bed.

Bridget was silent as she slid under the covers, but she didn't hesitate to snuggle up to him. After a minute, she blurted, "I hate my Mamá."

Antonio was gobsmacked. That was the last thing he expected her to say. "Why?" he ventured, officially in therapist mode now.

"Because she's been abusing my Papá," she answered baldly.

Mirabel wouldn't do that, Antonio thought to himself, though he remained outwardly objective by inquiring, "What makes you so sure?"

"I could see it in his eyes," Bridget told him. "And by how desperate he was for aftercare."

Antonio sighed. He knew how important aftercare could be for his big brother. "It was that bad?"

Bridget nodded, nuzzling his chest. "I half thought we were going to smash through the door, with how hard he was fucking me-"

Antonio's arms tightened around her, his jealousy flaring up at the confirmation that she and Camilo did indeed have intercourse that night.

"-but then he broke down sobbing after he came," she finished.

Antonio took a few deep breaths to reign in his emotions. He remembered seeing his brother fall to pieces after a particularly intense bout with him and Bridget. Camilo had been inconsolable at first, but he gradually mellowed out as they double teamed him with kisses and encouragement and gentle touches until he came again in their arms. "Do you think he'll need more?"

"More what?" Bridget asked uncertainly.

"More of you." Antonio looked pained as he specified, "Will you be having sex with him again, or was what you did tonight enough?"

Bridget's eyes filled with tears. "I honestly don't know if having sex with him was the right thing to do. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested it at all. It was a terrible idea."

"No, Baby," Antonio shushed her gently, "it wasn't a terrible idea. It might not have been the solution you hoped it would be, but it was a step in the right direction."

"You… You really think so?" Bridget stammered.

"I know so," he asserted.

Chapter Text

When Camilo entered the tower bedroom after having sex with Bridget against her door, Mirabel was sitting on the bed staring at him. He undressed and climbed into bed, offering her a murmured, "Buenas noches," before lying down.

"Tío Bruno," Mirabel said as though she was addressing him.

Camilo sat up and looked around, knowing it was impossible no matter how much he wished it could be true. Seeing nobody in the room, he turned to Mirabel questioningly.

"Tío Bruno," she said again, staring straight at Camilo.

Camilo felt a pang in his heart. "He's gone, Dulzura."

"You can become him," she said matter-of-factly.

Camilo shook his head slightly. "I'm not going to."

"You have to," she insisted. "You promised you would."

"What?" he uttered bemused. "What are you talking about?"

"You promised to have sex with me as Tío Bruno," she reminded him.

"Not tonight," he sighed.

Mirabel narrowed her eyes at him. "You said I could pick when."

"Not like this," he said. "I don't want to."

"You promised," she growled. "You got your side of the deal already, now give me mine."

Camilo's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he managed, "That's not true. Your side of the deal was me sleeping with Tío Bruno, while my side was transforming into Tío Bruno to sleep with you."

Mirabel was undeterred. "The deal was that I could pick when, so you have to turn into Tío Bruno right now."

Camilo swallowed nervously at the glint in her eyes. "I'm not in the mood."

Mirabel shrugged. "I can fix that." She reached out and grasped his flaccid penis. He gasped and tried to scooch away from her, but she held him tight so he couldn't get away. "Change into Tío Bruno," she said evenly as she fondled him, giving him an unwanted erection.

Camilo shuddered as tears welled up in his eyes. "Don't do this, Dulzura, please. Please don't make me…" he whined, his hips jerking involuntarily, as she pumped her hand up and down his shaft.

"Tío Bruno?" she said expectantly, giving him a particularly hard squeeze.

Camilo flinched and finally caved, scrunching his eyes shut as he activated his Gift.

Mirabel's face brightened immediately. "Tío Bruno!" she cried as she threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you again!"

Should I play along? he questioned himself, slowly returning Mirabel's embrace. Will thinking that she's actually talking to him help her mental state, or would that just make it worse?

"There's something I really need to tell you," she said, pulling back a bit to look into Bruno's eyes.

"And what's that?" he asked, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and adding as an afterthought, "Novia?"

Hearing his nickname for her made Mirabel smile widely. "Tío Bruno, it's the most wonderful thing!" she gushed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I missed my last period!" He stared at his wife, dumbfounded, as she went on, "I should have gotten it a few days after you left, but I still haven't! You know what that means!?"

"You're…" He gulped. "You're pregnant?"

Mirabel nodded vigorously. "Isn't that great?! We're gonna have another baby!" She pulled her stunned husband into another hug and quietly screamed in happiness.

Camilo felt like the ground had fallen out from underneath him. The night Bruno died was the first time in months that Mirabel had had sex with either of them, and since then she'd been viciously denying him any sort of interaction that was even remotely amorous. If that was her first missed period of this pregnancy, then she had gotten pregnant from Bruno when he died. The idea that their next child would be a product of necrophilia didn't sit well with him at all, but what bothered him even more than that was the thought of the new baby having her for a mother. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Bridget was right about her.

"Well?" Mirabel said loudly, snapping Camilo out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Bruno apologized, cupping his wife's cheek tenderly. "I was just so surprised to find out you're pregnant again. What did you say?"

"I said let's celebrate!" She grinned maniacally. "I want you to make love to me while I can't breathe."

Bruno's jaw dropped. "I-I can't do that." As soon as he said this, it was like a switch had been flipped: Mirabel's smile vanished, her eyes narrowed, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back with her on top of him. "N-Novia?" he stammered, searching her face. Much to his dismay, he found it contained no trace of his wife's former self.

"If you won't do it to me," she said in a low, dangerous voice, "then I'll do it to you."

"Y-you wouldn't…" Bruno started as she laid her forearm across the front of his neck.

"Try me," she whispered, pressing downward.

"T-transform," Bruno wheezed, attempting to shove her off of him, but she ignored Camilo's safeword. His lips trembling, he tried Bruno's safeword, "O-offal!" but the constriction of his airway rendered his voice inaudible this time. Camilo got déjà vu as he gripped her arm, remembering how Bridget threatened him with strangulation earlier. The difference here was that Mirabel didn't know what she was doing - as evidenced by the cracking sound of something in his throat fracturing under the pressure.

Mirabel pulled back immediately, a look of surprise crossing her face before it was replaced with a smirk. "Now…" She laid her hands flat on the bed next to Bruno's head and leaned down until her nose touched his. "Let's hear the right answer."

Bruno opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Well, since it seems like you're done complaining…" Mirabel's earlier smile returned, but without any of the warmth that it used to have. "…are we going to make love or not?"

Bruno swallowed nervously - or tried to, but found that he physically couldn't. Tears trickled down his face and he shook his head, wincing in pain as the motion aggravated his injury.

Mirabel glared at him for a moment before climbing off of him and getting out of bed.

I have to get out of here, Camilo thought as Bruno leapt to his feet and bolted for the door. Hopefully Tía Julieta's food will be able to heal my throat without having to go down it first.

He froze in his tracks, his blood running cold, when Mirabel quietly uttered three short words. Camilo couldn't believe his ears. He must've misheard her. Bruno slowly turned to look at her, his eyes wide with terror as she said it a second time: "I'll kill it."

What the actual fuck? Camilo thought. Bruno shivered with dread as he stared at the clothes hanger in the crazed woman's hand.

"Get back on the bed," she said calmly.

Bruno meekly did as he was told. Camilo's mind raced. Mirabel was holding their unborn child hostage, and apparently the ransom was sex. He had no choice. He couldn't not do it. He just prayed he'd be able to placate this madwoman for long enough that a rescue would be possible.

Chapter Text

Camilo walked around completely expressionless and all but unresponsive the next day, arousing concern from the rest of the family… other than Mirabel, that is, who seemed to have done a one-eighty and - but for her indifference about Camilo's condition - appeared to be back to her old self.

"Papá?" Bridget asked as she approached him after lunch.

Camilo merely blinked at her silently for a moment before turning and walking away.

"Ephraim!" Bridget called as she hurried after her nephew instead.

Ephraim hung his head and told her, "I know what you're about to ask, but I can't help you."

"What do you mean you can't help me?" she blew up at him. "Fucking read his mind and tell me what's wrong!"

Ephraim looked into her eyes sadly and thought to her, His mind is as blank as his face. There's nothing there.

Bridget blanched. Like Oscar was after being raped? she thought.

Ephraim swallowed thickly and replied, Not exactly the same, but close to it.

Bridget gritted her teeth angrily. God fucking dammit, I'm gonna kill that woman! I warned him she was gonna destroy him, but he just insisted he had to be there for her and now this has happened!

"Tía Bridget, wait," Ephraim spoke aloud, grabbing her arm since she had spun on her heel to go after Mirabel. She leveled a glare at her nephew, giving him access to deliver another thought directly into her mind, History can repeat itself, but changes might be good or bad.

Bridget's brow furrowed, her mind whirring as she pondered exactly what parts of history were repeating and which parts could be changed - for better or for worse.

"Abuela Julieta," Bridget began as she entered the kitchen where the old woman was washing dishes.

"¿Sí, nieta?" Julieta responded as she turned away from the sink to give her her undivided attention.

"I need some of your cider," Bridget told her, "for my Papá."

Julieta looked crestfallen. "I already gave him some. As you've seen, it didn't help much. My Gift just isn't what it used to be."

Bridget's face crumpled. "But your cider is what healed Oscar's mind before. If it doesn't work anymore, then what can I do?"

"I'm sorry," Julieta apologized sincerely. "It's a shame Angelo's healing kisses only work on physical injuries. I wish the magic wasn't so limited."

Just how limited is it, though? Bridget wondered, departing with a hurried, "Thanks anyway," thrown over her shoulder.

"Oscar," Bridget panted as she caught up with her barely-younger brother, "I need you to use your Gift…"

Oscar looked at his older sister as though she had two heads. "What are you talking about, hermana? My Gift is useless."

"No." Bridget shook her head. "You just haven't realized everything it can be used for."

"Bridget," Oscar said patiently, "all I can do is see magic. That's it."

"But that's what I need right now," she said in a rush. "I need you to tell me where the healing magic is."

"The healing magic?" Oscar repeated. "Whose? Abuela Julieta's or Angelo's?"

"Both!" Bridget exclaimed. "I want to know what the difference is, and maybe we can figure out why Abuela Julieta's Gift isn't working as well anymore."

Oscar's brow furrowed. "There's nothing wrong with Abuela Julieta's Gift."

"Yes there is," Bridget contradicted him. "She literally just told me it's not what it used to be."

Oscar frowned. "And I'm telling you right now, there's nothing wrong with it. The right half of her head is glowing just as brightly as it was nineteen years ago. Her food has less magic in it, but her Gift itself hasn't changed. My best guess is that she's simply not utilizing it as effectively as she used to."

Bridget tried not to feel discouraged as she asked, "What about Angelo's?"

"Angelo's magic is weird," Oscar admitted. "The Glow is just in his lips until he actually uses his Gift, at which point the magic fills his entire mouth, the inside of his nose, and his eyes."

"His eyes?" Bridget muttered pensively. "Oh my gosh, it's not just kisses, is it?" At Oscar's confused look, she burst out, "Tears! He has healing tears as well as kisses, right?"

"I… I don't know," Oscar stammered. "I've only ever seen him heal people with kisses, not tears."

"Do his tears glow if he cries when he's using his Gift?" Bridget pressed.

"Um…" Oscar had to think for a minute before he recalled, "Yeah, actually. When he healed Mamá's burns during Mercy's Gift Ceremony, he started crying when he realized she was okay. He deactivated his Gift immediately after, but for a split second that first tear glowed just like his kisses do before the magic sinks into the wound to heal it."

"So the healing magic has been being transferred through his saliva to the person he kisses when he uses his Gift?" Bridget checked.

"No," Oscar replied slowly, "I'm pretty sure it's just from his lips. If it was his saliva, he could heal people by spitting on them."

"Do you know for a fact that he can't?" Bridget snarked.

Oscar blinked, nonplussed. "I don't, actually. He's never tried it, as far as I know."

Bridget bit her lip. An idea was taking shape in her mind, and she couldn't believe she was seriously considering it. After a minute, she justified it to herself with the reasoning that, if it might save their Papá, they couldn't give up until they had tried everything.

Chapter Text

Antonio was floored when Bridget told him her plan. "Are… Are you serious?" he stammered, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"Sí." She nodded. "I think Angelo's Gift is more complicated than anyone thought."

Antonio felt a stirring in his loins as he looked the child up and down. "You realize…" He gulped, glancing back at Bridget. "…what this will do to me?"

She ducked her head guiltily as she replied, "That's actually the reason why I thought you'd be the best teacher for him. I figured nobody else would want to give him a crash course in French kissing."

More like no one else would be comfortable French kissing an eight-year-old, Antonio thought ruefully.

Bridget fidgeted anxiously, still second-guessing her judgement after the disastrous outcome of the last brilliant idea she'd had. With any luck, this one would undo her previous mistake.

Antonio took a deep breath to steel himself. "Okay, chico?" he checked with the boy in front of him.

Angelo nodded. "I'm ready, Tío Antonio."

"Alright, come here then," Antonio said as he knelt down to his level. Angelo stepped right up to his uncle and placed his hands on the man's shoulders, searching his eyes as he hesitantly moved his face closer.

Antonio tried to tamp down his arousal as he wrapped his arms around the child. He pressed his lips to Angelo's, sliding one hand up to thread his fingers through his hair so he could guide him into the best angle, before slipping his tongue out to lightly prod the boy's lips. Angelo started at that, caught off guard, but the next second he opened his mouth to allow him entrance.

"Good boy," Antonio murmured huskily before tilting his head a bit and slowly exploring the inside of his mouth. Angelo made a sound that seemed nervous and confused and pleased all at once. When Antonio realized his attempt to suppress his impending hard-on had become a losing battle, he broke their kiss to give himself a bit of a respite.

Angelo licked his lips, looking thoughtful. "That was… kind of nice," he admitted breathlessly.

Antonio swallowed thickly, trying to keep his voice steady as he said, "Now, let's see what you've got."

"M'kay." Angelo was the one who initiated the kiss this time, with Antonio letting him lead so he could give him pointers if there was anything he had trouble with. To his surprise, it seemed the boy was a natural. In retrospect, it made sense; since his Gift was based on kissing, his innate skill could probably be attributed - at least in part - to the magic he was imbued with.

"Shit," Antonio sighed as he broke their kiss a minute later. Pulling back to look Angelo in the eye, he praised him, "You were fantastic, niño. If that doesn't heal your Papá's mind, nothing will."

Angelo blushed at the encouragement. "Thank you for teaching me, Tío Antonio." He leaned in to give his uncle a chaste kiss of gratitude, but the pedophile's mind was so fixated on the boy's allure that he couldn't hold back a filthy moan despite the innocence of Angelo's intentions. Antonio squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, clearly ashamed of his own reaction.

"Let's go, Angelo," Bridget said, beckoning to him. "Time to put what you've learned to the test." Angelo took his eldest sister's hand and, with one more backward glance at Antonio, the siblings departed.

As soon as they were gone, Antonio scrabbled at his waistband to free his aching cock. He spat in his hand before closing his eyes, imagining that Angelo was still there and that he was the one touching his dick.

He sighed as he stroked himself, reminiscing on the feel of the boy's body in his arms, his little hands holding on to his shoulders. He stroked himself faster, recalling the absolute trust and willingness when Angelo opened his mouth just a second after his tongue touched his lips. He shuddered as he remembered seeing the boy's tongue peeking out to lick his own lips and taste Antonio's saliva on them, and the breathiness in his little voice as he commented that kissing him felt nice.

"Oh, fuck!" Antonio sobbed as he came, collapsing against the tree in his room and ruminating, God, I wish I could actually make love to a child without destroying that child's life and my own psyche in the process.

Chapter Text

Bridget and Angelo arrived in Oscar's room to find Camilo sitting in a reclining armchair staring vacantly at the far wall. Oscar was standing next to him with a hand resting on his shoulder. When Bridget and Angelo entered, Oscar explained to them, "He kept trying to leave."

As if on cue, Camilo made to stand up. When he felt the resistance of his eldest son's hand pressing against his shoulder, he mechanically returned to precisely the same position he had been sitting in a moment ago and didn't move again.

Angelo's eyes began to fill with tears at this display of sheer mindlessness. His feet felt like they were rooted to the floor until Bridget gently urged him forward.

Oscar stepped away so Angelo could stand in his place, only to be taken aback when he climbed into Camilo's lap. The boy wiped the fresh moisture from his eyes before taking his father's face in his hands and leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

Oscar watched, fascinated, as Bridget's theory was proven correct: the tears that were produced after Angelo activated his Gift glowed as they were transferred first to his fingers and then to Camilo's skin on contact.

Angelo easily pressed his tongue between his Papá's limp lips and started French kissing him.

Oscar's jaw dropped as magic poured out of Angelo's mouth, manifesting as tendrils of healing light slowly reaching out into their father's head. When Camilo still remained completely motionless, Angelo began crying desperately as he kissed his Papá more deeply. The combination of his lips moving against his, his tongue spreading saliva throughout his mouth, and the tears falling heavily on his face, all culminated in the man's brain taking on a bright magical glow that only Oscar could see.

Angelo jumped slightly when he felt Camilo's tongue move against his own a moment before a pair of arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He was finally responding!

Camilo felt as though he was dreaming, being kissed by someone who loved him very much. He moaned as he ran his fingers through the person's hair and kissed them back, eliciting a quiet whimper from whoever it was. He broke the kiss and opened his eyes, only to feel as though his heart had stopped. "A-Angelo?" he stuttered in disbelief.

"Papá!" Angelo burst out into sobs, pulling Camilo into an embrace so tight it felt like he was going to hug all the air out of him.

"Y-you… Wh-what's…?" Camilo trailed off as his eyes found his two eldest children standing nearby. His mouth remained half open for a moment, the memory of last night crashing into him. His face crumpled and he started sobbing too, holding his young son even tighter.

He couldn't stop crying long enough to say anything, but Bridget had a couple of suspicions that didn't require more from him than a nod or headshake in response. Her hands balled into fists, she snapped, "Do I get to say 'I told you so' now?"

Camilo's sobs were broken by a hiccup, and Bridget got her answer just from the regret in her Papá's eyes when they met hers.

"She raped you, didn't she?" Bridget asked point-blank.

Oscar gasped, looking between his sister and his Papá in shock.

Camilo struggled to pull himself together before answering hoarsely, "Not… Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Bridget repeated, incredulous. "What the fuck does that mean? It's a yes or no question!"

"She… She didn't… Well…" Camilo fumbled for words. "She coerced me."

Oscar shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Did you want to do it?" he asked tensely.

Camilo's breath caught in his chest as he looked at his eldest son's austere expression. "She didn't force-"

"That's not what I asked," Oscar interrupted. "Whether or not you went along with it in the end is irrelevant. Did. you. want. to do it?"

Camilo bit his lip as he searched Oscar's face for several long seconds before he finally whispered, "No."

Oscar gave a single decisive nod. "Then it was rape. Plain and simple."

Camilo bowed his head but didn't try to argue the point anymore.

"Is she pregnant?" Bridget asked next.

Angelo tried to pull away, looking askance, but all he could manage was shifting to the side a bit in order to see his Papá's face in profile.

"H-how did you…?" Camilo stammered.

Bridget exhaled sharply through her nose. "It's Señora Santos all over again," she growled through gritted teeth.

"It's not," Camilo contradicted her.

"Seriously, Papá," Oscar put in, "apart from the fact that Mamá is your wife and not a stranger, how is it any different?"

Fresh tears rolled down Camilo's cheeks as he told them, "The baby's not mine. It's your Tata's. From the night he died." His children were silent as they absorbed that revelation.

"Well," Bridget spoke finally, her voice dripping with derision, "there's your one good reason that I was asking you for."

"I'm gonna have a new sibling?" Angelo checked to make sure he was following what was being discussed.

Camilo's lip trembled. "I hope so, mijo," he choked out. "Y-your Mamá… threatened to perform an abortion on herself last night."

"What?" Angelo asked.

"No!" Bridget exclaimed.

"Fuck…" Oscar mumbled.

"Yeah," Camilo confirmed.

The bowl Dolores was holding slipped between her fingers, resulting in a loud crash when it broke at her feet. Her twenty-nine-year-old brother's sexual fantasies involving young Angelo were ultimately harmless since he had already proven he could resist the temptation to act on his pedophilic urges. The fact that multiple adults in her family had now French kissed an eight-year-old child could be overlooked because it was, for all intents and purposes, a medical procedure. But this? Fuck no. Confidentiality be damned! If my unborn cousin is in danger of being slaughtered in cold blood, then by God I'm going to tell someone about it!

Ephraim's hands landed heavily on the table at either side of the bowl he had been carrying. This became the only thing keeping him standing as his knees had gone weak with shock.

"Butterfingers," Mirabel chuckled as she went to help Dolores pick up the shards of broken glass at her feet.

"No no, it's fine, I've got it." Dolores forestalled her. I'm not letting her get ahold of anything she could use to harm her unborn child. Ephraim, we might need to restrain her if she figures out we know. You should tell Luisa.

Ephraim nodded and pushed himself upright. He was still somewhat unsteady, but once he'd used the nearest chair to support himself he was able to walk out of the room without stumbling.

"Whoa." Luisa started when Ephraim almost ran into her. "Easy, mijo." Seeing the frantic look on his face, she met his eyes and asked, "What's going on?"

I don't know exactly, he admitted directly into her mind, but Prima Dolores thinks Mirabel might try to terminate her own pregnancy.

"Jesus," Luisa swore under her breath as she hurried to investigate the situation, assist her cousin on the off chance that she was right, and then question her sister to find out what made her think something so outlandish. She found Dolores struggling to keep Mirabel away from a mass of broken glass and guac on the floor at their feet.

"Seriously, Mirabel, I've got it," Dolores insisted.

"If we work together it can be cleaned up even faster," Mirabel reasoned.

"What's going on here?" Luisa asked, standing akimbo.

"Luisa," Mirabel greeted her. "Can you tell Dolores that working together is quicker than trying to do everything on your own?"

"It's just a broken bowl, hermana," Luisa pointed out. "Dolores can handle it."

Mirabel rolled her eyes but stopped fighting. "Fine," she muttered under her breath, "bruja terca."

Calling Dolores a stubborn witch for wanting to pick up a broken bowl by herself is a bit much, Luisa mused as Dolores meticulously made sure she got every piece of glass off the floor before going to dispose of it all. If Mirabel is pregnant, that could explain the moodiness. Can pregnancy hormones really make someone want to end it, though?

Chapter Text

There were several instances during the next few weeks in which Mirabel seemed fascinated with sharp objects, but someone was always nearby who would keep a close eye on her. Her pregnancy became more evident as she began to show in the months that followed, but she wasn't the only one; Bridget and Constanza were both pregnant as well. Unsurprisingly, they were each plagued by different symptoms, and their respective partners all had their hands full trying to take care of them.

Mercedes closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Through no fault of her own, la casa Madrigal was in perpetual disarray. After Bruno died, taking Mirabel's sanity with him, Mercedes had automatically been made head of the family. It seemed the magic of the Encanto could tell that Mirabel was no longer fit to lead, so the role immediately fell to the next Madrigal in line to become Keeper of the Candle. Apparently the fact that she was six years old at the time didn't matter.

Camilo had promised to help her in any way that he could, but she didn't ask him because he was constantly haggard just from dealing with Mirabel.

Mercedes's older nephew, Ephraim, easily picked up on her inner turmoil. "You look like you need a hug, Tía Mercy," he commented as he took her aside and knelt down to her level.

I need a fucking miracle is what I need, Mercedes thought bitterly, her eyes filling with tears.

Ephraim blinked in surprise, taken aback by the fact that the f-word was in the seven-year-old's mental vocabulary. There were two types of thoughts that he could read from people's minds. The first was if someone was heavily focused on one particular thing, he would see whatever it was they were thinking about manifested in front of his eyes. The other kind was like an unfiltered inner monologue or a direct expression of what they would say if they were to speak their mind, which he would hear as though they were whispering in his ear. This instance was one of the latter, which meant Mercedes would have actually used that swearword if she hadn't held her tongue.

"I can't do this," Mercedes choked out as she threw her arms around his neck and began sobbing.

Ephraim enveloped her in a gentle hug, rocking her side to side, and just let her cry. He knew she needed this release. The girl had been putting up such a solid front that the rest of the family was under the impression that she was thriving, that she had come into her own, when in reality she was drowning.

Mercedes's mind raced, Why did this have to happen? Why did my Tata have to die? Why did Mamá lose her mind? Why do I have to be head? Why couldn't I have a Gift? Why can't the magic just fix everything?

Ephraim sighed as he rubbed her back. The answers to those questions were all either trite responses or just plain 'I don't know's, and none of that would help in this situation.

"I can't do it, Eph, I can't, I just can't," Mercedes blubbered.

"Nobody can," Ephraim murmured. "Not alone, anyway. We're all having trouble dealing with what's going on, but trying to do it all by yourself just makes it harder." He gave her a squeeze before breaking their embrace. He thumbed her chin when he pulled away and told her, "There's no shame in asking for help. I don't want you to wind up hurt because you're trying to take too much on yourself. Speak up. Tell us what we can do for you. Your family needs you to help keep things going, not to make it all perfect. Nothing can be perfect. We're not looking for perfection from you. Things weren't perfect when your Mamá was head, and things aren't going to be perfect now. There are going to be things that you can't do, and when those things come up, you just do your best and get someone else to do the rest. Remember, part of being in charge is telling other people what to do."

Mercedes nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand as she gave a watery chuckle. "It's gonna be like Holy Innocents Day every day, isn't it?"

Ephraim smiled. "Every child's dream, right? You get to boss everyone around twenty-four-seven now."

Mercedes sniffed as her frown returned. "It's not worth what it cost."

Ephraim sighed as he searched Mercedes's face before telling her, "There are a lot of things that seem that way, but good things can come out of bad things."

"Pfft," Mercedes scoffed, rolling her eyes. You're just saying that.

Ephraim gently pulled Mercedes's head closer to him, pressing their foreheads together so she was forced to look into his eyes in order for him to speak silently directly into her mind, The only reason I exist is because a stranger raped your brother when he was thirteen.

Mercedes recoiled at this news.

Knowing she was about to run away, Ephraim hurried to finish aloud, "I'm not happy that that happened, but I am thankful for the result."

When Holy Innocents Day arrived, the townsfolk gathered in and around Casita at Mercedes's behest. The podium and speaker system from Mirabel's sixteenth birthday were set up once again, and once again the townsfolk didn't realize that they were about to be addressed by a recently inaugurated and unusually young head of the family.

Mercedes was sitting with her back against her door, taking deep breaths and trying not to throw up. Felicity the jagupard licked the girl's face incessantly, which forced a reluctant laugh from her as she tried to keep the big cat at bay. This attempt was short-lived, however. She quickly gave in and pulled her favorite kitty closer, eliciting a chuff from her.

Finally, Mercedes got to her feet and walked up to the podium to make her first speech as head of the family. It went better than she was expecting. The crowd didn't riot, there weren't any spectacles, and nobody had to get threatened or chased off by a wild animal.

The true results wouldn't be seen until later, though, when everyone learned that this wasn't actually some elaborate practical joke; Mercedes really was calling the shots now.

The next day came, and nobody in town acted as though anything had changed. Dolores listened for dissent among the populace, but the only thing people were saying about the previous day was how little Mercedes was so cute, and it was so adorable that she chose to give a practice speech about assuming the role of head of the family instead of something silly like declaring that vegetables were outlawed and everyone had to put their shoes on their heads for the rest of the day.

The truth set in gradually, however, as they realized over time that they hadn't seen Mirabel doing anything lately whereas Mercedes was heading up everything with skillful delegation. The reactions when it dawned on them were at times comical: they would be dumbfounded, they'd stammer for a moment, pause as they tried to think of an argument against it, and then sigh and acknowledge that Mercedes was actually doing a pretty good job.

When Dolores shared this information with the whole family, Mercedes burst into tears of relief and gratitude.

Chapter Text

Mirabel's pregnancy this time came with severe antenatal depression, which it seemed couldn't be assuaged no matter what anyone tried. She would often ask for Bruno, but even if Camilo thought feeding her delusion would help, he couldn't give her that because his Gift hadn't been working since the night she raped him.

Bridget developed gestational diabetes, which was at odds with her pregnancy craving for postre de natas. Thankfully, Antonio was able to appease her with mashed fruit instead. She especially enjoyed it when he smeared it on his dick for her to suck off.

Constanza, on the other hand, experienced extreme mood swings coupled with almost constant lethargy. Juan felt that the best way to handle this was to get her away from all the drama and stress that was unavoidable living with so many people, so he packed up everything he thought they'd need and took her on an impromptu vacation to a remote house at the edge of town for a second honeymoon.

Constanza closed her eyes, blissful, as she reclined against her husband's chest. Dear, sweet Juan had drawn her a delightfully warm bath and was currently giving her a relaxing massage while kissing her neck. She kept one hand resting on her swollen stomach as she wrapped the other around the back of his head.

Juan smiled and began sucking on her neck, eliciting a moan from his heavily pregnant wife. She was actually not as far along as she looked, which led the couple to believe that she - like Camilo when he'd had her - was going to have twins.

"Mmm, Juan…" Constanza tilted her head to give him more access to her already mottled neck and collarbone, encouraging him to let loose once again. He happily took her up on this invitation, nipping at her skin with such enthusiasm that she jerked, causing some of the water to slosh out of the tub. She whined as he continued to gnaw intently on her flesh, her hand behind his head tightening into a fist in his hair. He growled in response, struggling to reach around under her belly to find her clit as he nibbled even harder. "Fuck, Juan!" she cried, writhing in his lap as he found and firmly strummed her clit faster and faster until she finally came with a desperate scream.

Juan hummed peacefully, his ears ringing, as he soothed her love bitten neck with his tongue. In no time at all, she was asleep in his arms. This pregnancy was really taking its toll on her, sapping her strength and leaving her frequently exhausted, but he doted on her night and day, attending to her every need and indulging her every whim.

Chapter Text

It was a terribly cold, rainy midnight in March. There was a storm raging outside, the likes of which the Encanto hadn't seen since Pepa passed away.

Constanza was screaming, but it wasn't the pleasured screaming that her husband loved to hear. This screaming tore through Juan's heart, sending tears pouring down his face in rivulets that rivalled the rain on the windows of the remote house where they had chosen to spend their second honeymoon.

"No! No!" she sobbed, squeezing Juan's hand. He tried to gently shush her, bringing her hand to his lips and giving it a chaste kiss, but this only made her explode at him, "DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME TO SHUSH, YOU BASTARD, YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

Juan bowed his head and used the back of her hand that was crushing his to wipe his tears. This brought her tirade to a sudden halt, and she looked at him through eyes that were brimming with tears. "It's too soon," she said shakily. "It's too soon, Juan. They can't be coming now, they just can't!"

Juan sniffled and kissed his wife's fingers. She released her viselike grip so he could have his hand back, and he shook it out to help restore the circulation before laying it on her stomach.

Constanza's lip trembled. "Oh God, Juan… our babies… th-they're gonna be pre-" She choked on the word. "…premies."

Juan briefly pressed his lips to her stomach before gently running his hand over it as though spreading the kiss across the entire surface.

"That's a nice idea, but I don't know whether Angelo's kisses would be able to help with this," she murmured sadly. "Besides, Tía Dolores's room is soundproofed, so she can't hear me right now. And even if she could, we can't expect them to get Angelo all the way out here, in the middle of the night, in this horrible storm. No. We… we're on our own."

Juan ran his hands up and down his wife's legs comfortingly when she grimaced in pain again.

"I can't do this," she whimpered as he checked to see how dilated she was. He looked up and gave her a decisive nod. She bit her lip, staring into his eyes. Seeing the immeasurable love there, she sighed and returned his nod. "Okay. Okay. I can do this," she breathed, preparing to push on the next contraction.

Constanza was covered in sweat and practically hyperventilating by the time her second son emerged. Her firstborn was already having his first meal of colostrum, sucking intently on her teat, when the air was rent by the younger's first cries.

Just as he had done with his firstborn, Juan kissed his second son's forehead and held him close to his bare chest for a little bit of skin-to-skin bonding as he brought him over to Constanza so she could have the same while breastfeeding him. She shuddered with another contraction just after the second baby latched onto her unoccupied nipple, and Juan soothingly stroked his wife's hair before going to deliver the afterbirth.

The next several minutes were hazy for Constanza. She wasn't sure how much time went by or how many more contractions she'd had to endure, but the next thing she knew was Juan's hand coming to rest heavily on her shoulder. She struggled to open her eyes and look at him, offering him a tired smile, only for her to feel as though the world was crashing down around her the next second.

Juan was shaking with suppressed sobs, his tear-soaked face smeared with amniotic fluid. He was cradling a silent, motionless, blue-faced baby.

Constanza stared at him, momentarily paralyzed with shock. Numb with disbelief, she stammered, "Th-three?"

When the man nodded miserably, she looked away from him to stare down at the two babies who were both resting peacefully against her chest, blissfully unaware that their brother didn't make it.

"They were… triplets," she sniffled as she embraced her two living children.

Juan stepped away to grab his notebook, returning with it open to the page where they had been brainstorming baby names. Their list consisted of five names for each gender, which they had narrowed down to three girl names and two boy names that they would choose from after the children had been born. When he showed it to her, she could see that he had written a one and a two in the margin alongside the names Sergio and Salvador respectively, as well as drawing a circle around one of the crossed-out names: Solomon.

Constanza nodded her approval of that decision, speaking each name aloud as she kissed the corresponding baby's head.

Chapter Text

Within a few months of Constanza giving birth, Mirabel began experiencing persistent headaches, nausea, and blurred vision. She asked for Bruno even more frequently, and she flipped out every time she was told no.

Thanks to his Gift, Ephraim could hear Julieta desperately begging within her mind for Camilo to use his Gift and change into Bruno for her daughter, but she stopped expressing her desire for this out loud after Camilo informed her that Mirabel had raped him the last time he turned into Bruno in front of her.

Ephraim was also aware - thanks, again, to his Gift - that Camilo secretly felt a savage pleasure seeing Mirabel's reaction whenever he reminded her that Bruno was dead. She had hurt her surviving husband so deeply that he relished every opportunity to pay some amount of suffering back to her.

Early one morning, Mirabel woke up crying and whimpering Bruno's name while holding her stomach. Camilo pitilessly watched her flinch and moan for an hour, recognizing it as prodromal labor due to the regularity of the contractions and the fact that the intervals between them weren't getting any shorter. He knew the signs because he had had a few false alarms himself in the final days of his last pregnancy.

When her pain subsided, Camilo allowed Mirabel to lean on him as they rode the escalator from the tower rooms down to breakfast. After lunch, she began complaining about Braxton Hicks and asked for Bruno again.

Camilo suppressed a smirk as he whispered in her ear, "Tío Bruno is dead."

"That's not funny!" Mirabel growled, shoving him and storming off. She rode the escalator back up to the tower rooms by herself, grumbling the whole way. She called out Bruno's name expectantly upon reaching the top, but there was no answer. She checked for him in every room, but there was nobody there. Feeling tired and achy, she went to lie down in her bed and asked Dolores to send Bruno up when he got home.

Constanza wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she left her room after putting her sons down for their afternoon nap. It was hard for her not to cry when she held her babies - particularly Salvador, since he was identical to Solomon. She sighed and went to the tower rooms to see her mother, only to find the woman fast asleep. She bit her lip, grabbed Bruno's old office chair, and sat down beside the bed holding Mirabel's hand until she had to go and give her boys another feeding.

When Mirabel woke up, it was to find Bruno's old office chair next to the bed. He was watching over me while I slept, she sighed happily before grunting in pain as her body was seized with a powerful contraction.

Just before dinner was ready, Dolores quietly informed Camilo, "Mirabel's definitely in labor at this point."

"How far apart are her contractions?" he asked.

"About every fifteen minutes," Dolores reported.

"We've got time, then," he commented. "Keep an ear out and let everyone know if it progresses past five."

Dolores nodded in agreement. It was true that the baby wouldn't actually come until after the contractions were that close together.

Most of the family was unaware of just how horrible Mirabel had been since Bruno's death, but Dolores's Gift resulted in her hearing - or at least hearing about - everything. Out of sympathy for how much hurt Camilo was enduring from his spouse, Dolores honored his wishes by keeping Mirabel's labor just between them as long as neither mother nor baby were actually in any danger.

Camilo suggested to the rest of the family as they gathered for dinner that they ought to let Mirabel stay in bed for now and bring her food after she woke up. Nobody objected.

Once everyone had finished eating, Dolores announced that they should send up the birthing crew that they had all decided upon: Julieta, to hold Mirabel's hand; Ephraim, to monitor her mental state; Luisa, to restrain her if necessary; and Camilo, to deliver the baby.

Mirabel's labor dragged on, and she never stopped calling out for Bruno. By the time she was fully dilated, Camilo had gotten so sick of her that he felt ready to explode.

"Alright, mija," Julieta said softly, giving her daughter's hand a light squeeze, "it's time for you to start pushing."

"No," Mirabel rasped. "Not until Tío Bruno gets here. I'm not having this baby without him."

Camilo's temper was quickly bubbling to the surface after being suppressed for so long. "Tío Bruno is dead, Dulzura," he snapped, pouring as much derision as he could into his old nickname for her since it had become the furthest thing from an accurate descriptor for her. "He's never gonna come."

"Then neither will this baby!" she hissed. This was concerning to everyone in the room as they knew it was not an empty threat. Mirabel had physically held Oscar back from being delivered since she was scared because she knew he was a breech baby, and Bruno was the only one who was able to convince her to go through with it in the end.

Julieta was in tears as she pleaded brokenly, "Please…"

To Camilo's shock, she was not looking at Mirabel as she said this; she was instead staring at him. "I know you didn't just say that to me!" he snarled through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists. "After what she-"

"Not for her," Julieta interrupted. "Do it for the baby."

"Goddamnit," Camilo grumbled. That was probably the only thing she could have said to convince him not to hate her guts for the rest of her life. He sighed shakily and scrunched his eyes shut, reaching deep inside himself to find his Gift which had gotten buried beneath his trauma. A full minute later, he fell to his knees. "I… I can't," he gasped. "I'm trying, but it's not working. My Gift is… broken."

"G-guys," Ephraim stuttered, looking like he was going to collapse. "Sh-she's… S-something's wrong… H-her mind is… is…"

Just then, Mirabel began twitching and jerking as though being zapped by lightning repeatedly. The seizure lasted less than a minute, but it seemed a lot longer to everyone watching - particularly Ephraim, who, though he wasn't physically affected, could distinctly feel it.

Once Mirabel had stilled, she turned her head toward Julieta and whispered, "There you are. I knew you'd come."

Ephraim stared, agape, at the place she was looking, and muttered, "Holy shit."

Mirabel squeezed her mother's hand and mumbled, "They said you were gone, but I knew you weren't."

"She's hallucinating," Ephraim informed everyone. "I can literally see Abuelo Bruno standing there." Locking eyes with Julieta, he thought to her, Call her 'Novia' and tell her to push. I think she'll hear it in his voice.

Julieta was extremely uncomfortable about addressing her own daughter as 'girlfriend', but she did what her great-grandson told her to. Sure enough, Mirabel and Ephraim heard Julieta's words in Bruno's voice, and Mirabel finally began pushing in time with the contractions. "That's right, Novia, keep pushing," Bruno encouraged her as the delivery progressed.

Camilo was in awe as he delivered the baby entirely encased in an unruptured amniotic sac. He watched, spellbound, as the newborn was clearly visible moving around inside of it. It was just about the most magical thing he had ever seen, even after living within the Encanto his entire life.

Basking in the wonder of the en caul birth, Camilo carefully tore open the sac and peeled it off of the baby, who began crying upon being exposed to the open air. Something inside of him was healed in that moment. When he held this incredible child, his heart was calmed.

Mirabel gasped when she heard her baby start crying. Tearing her eyes away from Bruno for just a moment, she smiled at the sight of her newborn before looking back at the person holding her hand. "Mamá?" she asked in confusion. "Where did Tío Bruno go? He needs to hold our baby."

Camilo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ever since the night Mirabel coerced him to transform into Bruno and then raped him, he had been unable to use his Gift. He blamed her for that, rationalizing that she had caused him to associate his Gift with that trauma and therefore be reluctant to use it again lest the same thing happen.

That was part of it, but there was something more, something deeper than that: Camilo wanted to hold a grudge. He didn't want to forgive Mirabel for what she had done to him, and as long as there was some lingering negative effect from her actions, he felt justified in continuing to hold it against her. After all the time she spent treating him like shit, he was more than happy to do the same thing right back, and as long as his Gift was inaccessible to him, he felt he had a valid reason to do so.

But seeing this baby come into the world surrounded by a protective bubble that needed to be broken in order for him to live, Camilo realized that he needed to break the barrier that had hardened around his heart in order to move on with his own life. All those months of hatred and animosity melted away, and when he opened his eyes, he felt no ill will toward Mirabel.

Camilo approached his wife, cradling the screaming newborn in his arms. Without any malice in his voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Dulzura, but Tío Bruno is dead. We have his last son here, though, to love and care-"

"Restrain her!" Ephraim shouted over the end of his sentence, causing Camilo to jump.

Mirabel snarled like a captive beast when her attempt to lunge at Camilo was foiled by her middle sister pinning her down with one hand.

Ephraim swallowed thickly, his eyes filled with tears as he haltingly explained, "She wants Abuelo Bruno to hold the baby… but since you said he was dead… she wants to kill the baby-"

"No!" Julieta gasped as her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"…so Abuelo Bruno can have him," Ephraim finished brokenly.

Camilo clutched the baby close to his chest as he backed away from Mirabel, keeping his eyes glued to the madwoman as though afraid that if he looked away then she'd be able to get to him. "Bridget was right," he said tremulously, "you are beyond help."

Bridget put a hand on Camilo's back to halt him before gently laying a hand on her new baby brother. "May I?" she queried. He turned to her in confusion, opening his mouth to ask what she was doing there, but he was struck dumb when he saw that she was topless. She gestured at her exposed tits as she explained, "I've been leaking for a couple of days. I can breastfeed him."

Camilo nodded. "That's a good idea. We certainly can't let Mirabel breastfeed him."

Bridget carefully took the newborn in her arms and guided his squalling mouth to her nipple, where he latched on with very little hesitation.

"When did you get here?" Camilo asked. "You were supposed to wait downstairs with everyone else."

"I've been here the whole time," she told him, fighting back tears as she stroked the wispy blond hair that was plastered to the suckling newborn's head. She knew who this baby was - or, rather, who he was going to be.

Ephraim saw her reminiscence in his mind's eye: the appearance of her older self with an albino boy, and the subsequent conversation with her accidentally aborted child, which led to the revelation that the unborn soul was at peace and held no grudge against her for his untimely demise. That event had happened the night Bruno died, and it was the last time anyone other than Camilo had seen Mirabel sane.

Chapter Text

The newborn hadn't been nursing long when Bridget gave a quiet gasp.

"Are you okay, Bridget?" Camilo checked.

"Sí," Bridget breathed. I feel like my water just broke.

Ephraim looked sharply at his pregnant aunt and blurted, "Doesn't that mean…?" He trailed off at the glare she shot him.

"What is it?" Julieta asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Bridget sighed. "I probably just had an accident. My baby likes to press against my bladder at the most inopportune times."

Camilo raised an eyebrow. "'Probably'?" Bridget refused to meet her father's eyes. Without another word, he put an arm around her and ushered her out of the room.

"Papá, I'm fi-ine." Bridget winced mid-sentence and stumbled.

Ephraim, come with us, please, Camilo thought. "You can't pull the wool over my eyes, mija. You're having contractions, aren't you?"

Bridget shook her head, still clutching the baby to her breast. "It's too soon."

Lay out some bedding in the nursery for Bridget to lie on, Camilo told Ephraim silently. She'll be having her baby there tonight.

"Yes, Abuelo," Ephraim acknowledged, preceding them down the hall.

"My baby isn't due until next month," Bridget stated, cringing.

"Pretty sure your baby has other ideas," Camilo commented dryly. "Apparently this one's taking after you. You were a month early, too."

"It could be a false alarm?" she suggested as he guided her to sit down. "Ma- Mirabel thought she was in labor earlier today when she wasn't."

"Mirabel's water never broke," Camilo said offhand, "but yours has, hasn't it?"

"Sí," Bridget confessed under her breath.

"I thought so." Camilo cupped her face, thumbing away a tear from her cheek. "This baby is coming now, mija, ready or not."

"Bridget!?" an anxious shout echoed from the stairway.

"Toni," Bridget murmured, recognizing his voice. Don't let him keep shouting.

Ephraim went to flag Antonio down. When their eyes met, Ephraim put a finger to his lips and mentally told him, She's in here, with Abuela Mirabel's baby.

Is she okay?! Antonio thought urgently, trotting up the escalating steps on all fours. Dolores said she's in labor!

"Sí," Ephraim confirmed aloud as he was now within earshot. "She wanted me to tell you, quote, you fuss too much, unquote."

"Pfft," Antonio scoffed as he stood upright once he reached the landing. "Of course she did. She doesn't mean it though."

Ephraim rolled his eyes as Antonio's mind turned to an occasion where Bridget was very much enjoying having him fuss over her in a particular way.

Antonio stopped in the nursery doorway, staring in disbelief at the baby in Bridget's arms. I missed it?

"No, Tío Antonio, you didn't miss it," Ephraim said reassuringly. "That's Abuela Mirabel's baby."

"No it isn't," Bridget and Camilo said in unison.

Ephraim was taken aback, while Antonio became even more confused.

"Mirabel gave birth to him," Camilo explained, "but he's not her baby."

Bridget bit her lip as she looked up at Antonio tearfully. "We can adopt him, can't we, Toni?"

Antonio melted. "Of course we can, Baby." He walked over and knelt beside her. Slowly laying a hand on the baby's back, he asked, "What's my new son's name?"

"Rafael," Bridget told Antonio as she broke down crying. "O-our new son's name is Rafael."

If he's going to be their son, too, then what will he call me? Camilo pondered. I won't begrudge Antonio the role of Papá, but I'd like to be Tata at least…

Chapter Text

"Abuelo Camilo?" Ephraim called softly, drawing his attention to the doorway just as Dolores walked by. "Um, can you come with me, please?"

"Of course," Camilo agreed, bemused and curious about why his sister had come up here. He followed Ephraim down the hall to the bedroom where Mirabel was lying in bed, seemingly passed out from exhaustion.

"There's nothing to debate here," Dolores spoke lowly to the members of the family who were there for Rafael's birth. "Something has to be done about Mirabel. She's a danger to herself and others."

Julieta shook her head. "She's just overstressed. She'll be fine once she's had a good night's sleep."

"'Just overstressed' my ass," Camilo uttered as he joined them. "She isn't safe to be around - hasn't been since Tío Bruno passed away."

Dolores nodded. "She should be put to death for trying to kill Rafael."

Julieta gasped. "How can you say that? She needs us to help her through this."

"She's beyond help," Camilo argued softly, recalling Bridget telling him that months ago. He hadn't listened then, and it had cost him dearly.

"Execution seems a bit drastic," Luisa offered, trying to be diplomatic. "What if we just lock her up?"

Julieta sighed, resigned, as she was clearly outnumbered. "I'll look after her." Despite what they think, I'm sure Mirabel isn't beyond rehabilitation. I'm certain they'll see before long that there's nothing wrong with her.

Ephraim gave a heavy frown. Optimism is one thing, but that's borderline delusional. "I think anyone who is attending to her should go in pairs, just in case something happens."

"What do you expect would happen?" Julieta asked. Before he could respond, everyone started at the sound of Mirabel falling out of bed and onto the floor. Julieta went and knelt at her side. "You need to get back in bed, mija."

Mirabel ignored her and stared fixedly at Camilo instead. "I need to see Tío Bruno."

Camilo gulped, unsettled by Mirabel's gaze, and said gently, "Tío Bruno is dead."

Ephraim's jaw dropped as he saw Mirabel envisioning herself tumbling down the tower stairs to land at the bottom, broken and bloodied. "Sh-she'll kill herself if she can't see him."

"Well, that makes it easier for us," Dolores commented.

Julieta was crestfallen. "Until she comes to her senses, we'll have to keep her somewhere where she can't hurt herself."

She could hurt herself anywhere, Dolores silently observed.

Thanks to his Gift, Ephraim saw the image in her mind of Antonio lying on the ground in front of the giant tree in his room with a red smear on the bark behind him and a puddle of blood under his head. He shuddered at the thought and spoke up, "It would have to be a padded room, so she can't hit her head on the walls or the floor."

Mirabel looked directly at Ephraim when he said that, then she deliberately slammed her head into the floor.

"Come here, mija." Julieta fought back tears as she pulled her daughter close, but she struggled out of her mother's grasp. Before she could hit her head again, Luisa picked her up. She flailed a bit, but escaping from her Herculean sister proved impossible.

"I want Tío Bruno! I want Tío Bruno!" Mirabel began screaming. Dolores flinched and blocked her ears.

Camilo took a deep breath, his eyes closed in focus, and activated his Gift. "Settle down, Novia."

Mirabel's tantrum ended abruptly as she gasped and looked around. "Tío Bruno!" Unable to get free from Luisa, she reached out desperately toward her husband, supplicating.

Bruno shook his head. "I can't stay with you, Novia. It's past my time to go. You need to accept that and move on."

Mirabel's lip trembled. "But you're here…"

"I'm really not," Bruno refuted. "I haven't been for a long time. You only think you've been seeing me. You're in denial."

"Don't say that, Tío Bruno, please," Mirabel begged, her eyes overflowing with tears. "I love you, I need you, I can't live without you…"

"You need to let me go, Novia," Bruno insisted. "You said so yourself, before the last time we made love."

"No I didn't!" Mirabel protested. "That was the time before last, and I did let you go, but then you came back again!"

Bruno's breath caught in his chest, seeming pained by the reminder of that event.

"Remember?" Mirabel prompted tremulously.

Bruno swallowed thickly. "You're referring to the time when you threatened to abort our baby?"

"That was… I just…" Mirabel fumbled. "I just couldn't bear to have you leave me again, Tío Bruno. We belong together. We should never be parted-"

"Even by death?" Bruno interrupted.

Mirabel immediately nodded. "Sí, even by death."

Bruno shook his head despairingly. "Goodbye, Novia."

"W-what do you mean goodbye?" she stammered as he turned and headed for the door. "Wait!"

She didn't deserve another chance, Camilo thought bitterly as Bruno left the room, activating his Gift to transform back into himself as soon as he was around the corner and out of Mirabel's sight, but if Tío Bruno was here he would have wanted me to try. Even he couldn't get through to her, though. She's a lost cause.

Ephraim trailed behind his grandfather as he walked away, Dolores following soon after when Mirabel began thrashing in Luisa's arms and screeching at the top of her lungs.

"What are we going to do about her?" Ephraim muttered. "She's clearly insane."

Euthanasia, Dolores thought. Put her out of her misery.

"Restraints and a padded cell," Camilo replied, deadpan. "How about we stick her in Tío Bruno's vision cave? I'll gladly tie her up myself - I know which knots she can and can't get out of."

"That isn't padded," Ephraim pointed out.

Camilo gave a half-shrug. "Maybe Isabela could fill the room with plants or something? A thick layer of ground cover and a mesh of vines around the perimeter to keep her away from the walls should be enough."

Chapter Text

Bridget continued breastfeeding Rafael intermittently as her labor progressed, finding that it helped the process along. Camilo and Antonio stayed by her side as midnight came and went before the air was rent by her daughter's first cries. When Antonio handed their newborn to her with a tearful smile, she commented breathlessly, "She looks just like you, Toni."

"Does she?" he asked, wishing he could see the resemblance.

"Mm-hm." She nodded, though he couldn't see the gesture since he was staring at the baby. Bridget grimaced as she felt another powerful contraction when the newborn latched onto her unoccupied nipple.

Antonio sighed, feeling a certain warmth inside of him as he watched his Baby breastfeed his new baby. Bridget - the girl of his dreams - had now given him a daughter as well as a son, and the man couldn't be happier.

"Bridget," Camilo called in a quiet, level voice, "you're going to need to push some more."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Really, Papá, it's not that hard to pass the placenta. I've done it before."

"So have I, mija," Camilo said calmly, "but I can see another head."

Bridget's breath caught. "T-twins?" she uttered tremulously.

"Antonio, mi hermano, please try to keep her from panicking," Camilo told his brother before turning his focus back to Bridget's vagina.

Bridget gulped, looking down at the two babies she was already holding. When she took Rafael as her own, she thought it would be like she was going to have twins, but now? Now it turned out she was having twins and taking on another child in addition to that.

"Shhh, relax, Baby," Antonio murmured deeply, stroking Bridget's hair, "Daddy's here. Daddy's not gonna let anything bad happen to you or our babies. You just need to breathe and then push with the contractions when they come."

"But…" Bridget's lip trembled as she looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Th-three? H-how are we… gonna take care of… three? I only have two tits!"

"Oi," Antonio uttered a low growl. "Those tits are mine, and if I say they're gonna feed three babies, then they're gonna make enough milk that I can slake my thirst as well as feeding three babies, ¿entendiste?"

Bridget shuddered through another contraction. "Y-you promise?"

Antonio leaned in to kiss her nose, hitting his mark as he murmured, "I promise, Baby."

Bridget nodded and closed her eyes as she obeyed her Daddy's orders.

Camilo bit his lip to stifle a gasp as his first daughter's third baby was delivered into his arms. When he brought the newborn to meet her mother, he asked Antonio, "Would you please hold Rafael, so this one can nurse?"

"Alright," he said slowly, raising an eyebrow at Camilo even as he fulfilled his brother's request, "but why can't you hold your own baby?"

Camilo took a ragged breath before speaking softly, "I am."

"What did you just say?" Antonio whispered harshly as he adjusted his hold on the baby in his arms to ensure that he was secure.

Camilo finally looked away from the newborn he was holding once he'd passed her to Bridget. Meeting Antonio's eyes, he said, "The two of us each fathered one of Bridget's twins."

"That's not possible," Antonio stated.

"Apparently it is possible," Bridget piped up. "I guess it's just really rare."

Antonio rounded on her. "Did you do this on purpose?"

"What?" she breathed, taken aback.

"Is that why you were so obsessive about having sex with him?" Antonio snarled. "You wanted to have his baby?"

Bridget's eyes filled with fresh tears as she slowly shook her head. "That's not it at all, Toni," she asserted. "I didn't mean for this to happen, but now…"

"What?" Antonio prompted. "Now that it's happened, I'm supposed to just be okay with it?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Camilo hissed. "This should bring us closer together. Bridget's twins are like Angelo and Oscar: they're siblings who happen to have the same mother but a different father. There is nothing wrong with that."

"They're not like Angelo and Oscar!" Antonio exploded, causing the babies to start crying again. "They're what Angelo and Ephraim would be if Oscar was raped by Mirabel instead of Señora Santos! Bridget is your daughter, for fuck's sake!"

"Please don't shout, Toni," Bridget begged, just barely loud enough to be heard over the babies. "You're upsetting our children."

Antonio exhaled sharply through his nostrils. "Right. Well, I'll just take mine and go, then. You two can have yours." Before either of them could protest, Antonio transferred Rafael into Camilo's arms and picked up the first of the twins. This one supposedly looked just like him, but he couldn't tell. For all he knew, none of Bridget's children were actually his. Without a backward glance, Antonio stormed out.

Chapter Text

Antonio fumed as he wandered through Casita aimlessly. He was so upset, in fact, that even the continuous crying of his daughter didn't register in his mind until it suddenly stopped. He blinked and looked around. Somehow, without even realizing, he had wound up in the nursery area of his own room, where the crib that Benedicto had slept in as a baby was all made up under a branch of the tree that had a mobile attached to it.

When Antonio looked at the newborn in his arms, he was flabbergasted to see that she had a pacifier in her mouth. Where did she get that? he wondered. A moment later, his attention was drawn to the sound of the mobile rustling as though it had been swung. When he looked at it, he saw that it was slowly spinning.

"How…?" Antonio watched the mobile spin progressively faster, causing the objects hanging from it to float further and further outward due to centrifugal force, until it suddenly came to a stop as though someone had grabbed it, which led to the dangling pieces colliding with each other.

"Who's doing that?" Antonio called out.

His daughter whined at the volume of his voice, but with the pacifier in her mouth she didn't start crying again.

"Heteropaternal superfecundation," Dolores said from behind him.

"How did you get into my room?" Antonio's calm tone belied genuine frustration.

"The same way you did," she answered cryptically.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Alright, so what's that thing you just said?"

"Heteropaternal superfecundation," she repeated. "It means different fathers fertilized separate eggs in the same woman for the same single pregnancy. That's what happened all those months ago: Bridget's ovaries released two eggs when she ovulated, your sperm fertilized one of them after you had sex with her, and Camilo's sperm fertilized the other one after he had sex with her."

"How come my sperm didn't get both of the eggs before Camilo had sex with her?" Antonio asked, sounding petulant.

"Conception isn't instantaneous," Dolores informed him. "After you've had sex, most of the sperm you ejaculate won't make it all the way to where the eggs are - and there isn't even always an egg there that can be fertilized anyway - but it also takes time for the sperm that do make it there to actually penetrate the egg itself in order to fertilize it."

Antonio turned to look askance at his sister. "How do you know all of that?"

Dolores's eyes went misty. "I wanted to find out why I wasn't able to have kids, so I did a lot of research about pregnancy and how it actually happens."

Antonio looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry I asked. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you."

Dolores shook her head. "I'm the one who brought it up. Besides, it was a long time ago."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore," Antonio commented.

Dolores clucked her tongue. "So insightful with everyone else's problems, and yet you're a loose cannon in your own personal life."

Antonio narrowed his eyes at his sister. "Excuse me?"

"I'll think about it," Dolores quipped dryly.

The baby picked that moment to kick up a fuss as the pacifier fell out of her mouth.

Antonio sighed and began humming as he swayed in place to soothe her. He knew trying to retrieve the pacifier would be futile because of his vision impairments, so he figured he'd leave it wherever it fell.

A moment later, he froze as the pacifier floated through the air in front of his face. "Who's doing that?" he asked again.

This time he got a response: a childish giggle coming from somewhere in the tree above him.

"Who are you?" Antonio asked as he scanned the branches.

"Shhhh," was the immediate reply.

When Antonio opened his mouth to speak again, the pacifier flew into his mouth with the precision of someone physically inserting it. Hysterical laughter filled the air as he tried and failed to pull the pacifier out of his mouth. There was some sort of invisible force holding it in place.

"I think someone's having fun messing with their Papá," Dolores said offhandedly.

Antonio made an incredulous sound as he turned toward his sister's voice. The pacifier popped out of his mouth then as whatever invisible force had been holding it decided to take the thing back from him. Good riddance, he thought.

To his and Dolores's surprise, the pacifier then zoomed into Dolores's mouth. Judging by her fingers scrabbling against it to no avail, it was being held in her mouth just like it had been in his. Antonio laughed in spite of himself at her plight. Dolores stood akimbo as she searched the branches trying to find the culprit.

Antonio's laughter petered out as he looked thoughtfully at his baby and then up at the tree. "Is that really you, mija?" he called.

The child gasped and fell silent.

"Alright, you've had your fun, now take the pacifier out of your Tía Dolores's mouth." Deducing that it had been done when Dolores began making disgusted spitting sounds, he went on, "And give it back to your newborn self." The pacifier flew into his mouth instead, and a moment later there was the sound of a raspberry being blown at him.

Dolores covered her mouth, chuckling, "I think that's their way of telling you not to assume which child it is that's here right now." This statement drew a couple seconds of quiet applause from above them.

Antonio tried again to pull the pacifier out of his mouth, and this time he was able to. "Why are you here?" His question was met with total silence. There was no sound coming from above them, and no sign of movement, either. It seemed as if the child had left, though how they had managed it was a mystery.

"So, have you calmed down enough to be reasonable now?" Dolores asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Antonio growled, causing his daughter to whimper. He sighed remorsefully and gently shushed her.

"What it means is that you're angry for a stupid fucking reason, and it's pissing me off," Dolores muttered.

"It doesn't bother you that our brother got his own daughter pregnant?" Antonio asked incredulously.

Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. "Babies are always a blessing, hermanito. I would be ecstatic if Papá got me pregnant." Dolores then turned on her heel and walked out.

Chapter Text

Camilo gently rocked the baby in his arms, running a finger down the boy's pale little nose, and ruminated on how sad it would be for Rafael to grow up without ever really knowing his parents. He could never meet his father, would never be able to see who his mother had truly been, and was going to have to be reared by other relatives because his biological parents were incapable of doing so. It actually had certain similarities to Ephraim's situation, Camilo realized with a shock - right down to the fact that the boy's birth mother was a rapist.

Bridget stared down at her half-sister/daughter, fighting back tears. "We talked about it," she mumbled thickly. "We both knew it might happen."

Camilo turned his attention to Bridget then, the awareness that his oldest daughter had just given birth to his youngest daughter settled on his heart like a weighted blanket. "I'm sorry, mija," he offered.

"Don't say that!" she whispered harshly. "Don't you dare!" Camilo blinked in surprise as she vibrated with righteous indignation. "For starters, I came on to you that night because I could see that you needed to feel the love that you were very obviously not getting from your wife. Secondly, I was fully aware of the fact that it would be possible for me to become pregnant from having sex with you, but I thought it over for a long time and decided that it was worth the risk in order to try to help heal your broken heart. Thirdly, don't you ever express regret for the creation of a child! Whether it's intentional or not, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it, the fact that a life was created is something we should never wish to undo!"

"But…" Camilo began.

"No buts," Bridget talked over him. "When I found out that Oscar had been raped, and that it was Señora Santos who did it, I realized I had a chance to change history. I could have easily prevented it from ever happening, but instead I made the choice to do what it took to make sure it would happen!"

"What?" Camilo breathed.

"The letter from Ephraim's father is the only reason Oscar and I jumped to that time in the past," Bridget mentioned. "If it weren't for that letter, we never would have gone, and if we hadn't gone, then Oscar wouldn't have been raped. All I had to do to save Oscar from being raped was make sure Ephraim never got that letter. Do you know what I did when I realized that?"

Camilo slowly shook his head.

"I wrote that letter," Bridget told him, "and I gave it to Tía Dolores with explicit instructions to ensure it would be delivered to Ephraim."

Camilo stared at Bridget, his mouth agape.

"Shall I tell you why?" She didn't wait for an answer before continuing, "Because Oscar's rape was Ephraim's conception. If I hadn't written the letter that led to us making that jump into the past, then Ephraim would have never been born. I literally had my nephew's entire existence riding on my shoulders, and I decided that it was more important than my thirteen-year-old brother being traumatically raped all alone in the middle of the night on the hay-strewn floor of a barn in the past and left comatose - and I didn't even know at the time whether there was any hope of him recovering at all, so the fact of the matter is I was willing to sacrifice my brother's life if it came to that, just so his unintentional son could live."

Camilo was speechless.

"So yeah, even though we didn't intend to create this child, I wouldn't want to prevent it from happening even if I was given the opportunity to do so," Bridget finished.

Camilo bit his lip before commenting softly, "That's not an 'if'."

Bridget sighed. "Yeah, I know. Because of my Gift, the opportunity is always there… but I've learned that sometimes things just have to happen - good or bad. I could have gone back in time and saved Rocco," she added, tearing up at the thought, "but I was scared I would mess up something else."

"Like what?" Camilo asked.

"That's just it." Bridget sniffled. "I don't know what. Something happened that Connie made me forget about. It was just before I left from the past to come back to my fourteenth birthday…"

Chapter Text

"'Marionette work'?" Camilo asked confusedly.

"It's something I came up with a while back," Bridget explained. "It meant I was pulling strings, masterminding events so they'd happen the way that I wanted them to, while staying behind the scenes so no one would know I was doing it - just like how a marionette is controlled by an unseen puppeteer."

"Did you find out what happened that week that your other self wanted you to be there for?" Camilo inquired as Rafael dozed in his arms.

Bridget's lip trembled. "I… I have a guess." She kissed the baby she was holding and took a ragged breath before murmuring, "I think it was… Rocco's conception. I had to be there to abort him."

"No," Camilo gasped. "You wouldn't do that."

"You're right, I wouldn't," Bridget concurred, "but she wasn't me. I never became her. She successfully erased herself from existence."

"Connie used her Gift more on that week than any other time in history so far," Dolores told Bridget and Camilo as she joined them. "Everyone had to forget something."

"I suppose you were made to forget the whole week," Bridget mused aloud. "You would have heard everything."

"Certain things needed to be locked away," Dolores replied, meeting Bridget's eyes as she said that before looking at the baby girl and tenderly stroking her tiny cheek. "Connie made sure nothing lingered in my conscious mind until I needed to remember it."

"So then…" Bridget hesitated. "…you know why the alternate Bridget told me to stay an extra week?"

Dolores shook her head. "She never said it out loud, so I'm pretty sure Ephraim is the only one who found out. His encounter with your alternate self was very upsetting for him, though, so I honestly don't know if he'd tell you. He might not have even remembered it at this point."

"Oh, I remembered alright," Ephraim spat as he approached, his hands balled into fists by his sides. "Just now."

Dolores sighed. You have cousins that wouldn't exist if it hadn't happened. Sound familiar?

Ephraim's fists shook for a moment before they unclenched and his face crumpled. He stared at his newborn cousin for a minute before looking tearfully at his aunt. "You're only right about one thing: your staying that extra week was to make sure…" He trailed off, seemingly struggling with himself for a moment before he managed, "he would never be born."

"That can't be all," Bridget responded indignantly. "I would never do that."

Ephraim was crestfallen. "You don't have all of the information. You weren't actually speaking to that future version of you."

Bridget's jaw dropped and she turned to stare at Camilo. There was only one way for someone other than her to look exactly like her. "You?"

Camilo recoiled at the accusation. "What? No!"

"No," Dolores piped up. "I thought so too at first, but Ephraim told me it was someone else."

"You didn't want to do it, but…" Ephraim paused, clearing his throat, then swallowed hard before continuing, "…your first son forced you to."

"That's not possible," Bridget argued. "He didn't survive."

"At one point, neither did Primo Antonio," Ephraim mentioned offhand. Hearing Camilo's and Dolores's thoughts of bafflement, he explained to them, "I've read Tía Bridget's mind when she's gone back in time before, and if she's thinking about what she wants to change, then I'll know how things used to be even if she makes it so they never actually happen that way."

Dolores nodded as she was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Bridget and Oscar when they went back in time to find Ephraim's father.

Camilo slowly shook his head. "Antonio died?" he queried, turning from Ephraim to Bridget. "And you brought him back?"

Ephraim opened his mouth to speak, but Bridget beat him to the punch. "It was when he attempted suicide. Apparently, without my intervention, he would have tried again and been successful." Toni eventually told me that you'd told him.

"When your first son lived, his Gift was possession," Ephraim revealed. "He had the ability to enter people's minds, access their thoughts and memories, and control their actions." He rubbed one of his temples as he added, "He could cause pain, too, through any mental contact. It felt like he'd stabbed my mind when I tried to transfer a thought message directly into your head."

Chapter Text

"Then that means…" Bridget sniffled. "…he forced me to go back in time in order to retroactively kill himself before he was born."

"Right," Ephraim confirmed. "It was the exact opposite of what you did with Primo Antonio when you retroactively saved his life."

"He knew," Camilo blurted. At the confused looks he was given, he expounded, "Rocco. He knew. Remember, Bridget, when you talked to his ghost? He said his DNA was flawed, that he would be suffering in life, and he was grateful to have been spared such a miserable existence. He must've known somehow that, if he survived, he'd want to die anyway."

"He… He even told me himself," Bridget realized. "When he went back in time to waylay me, he told me not to blame myself because it wasn't my fault… and then when he spoke to me from beyond the grave, he stressed to me again that it wasn't my fault. It's because it was his decision all along."

"The question now is…" Ephraim trailed off.

"…whether I took my other self's place or not," Bridget finished.

Camilo frowned. "Haven't you already taken her place?"

Bridget tipped her head from side to side. "Possibly. If that other me was completely erased when she left, then she will only exist as an anomaly at that point in history. But, if she really didn't want to do it, then she might just be an altered version of my past self's future - in which case I need to do what she did in order to preserve the history that she set in motion."

Camilo thought of something then. "There's a way to find out."

Bridget raised an eyebrow at him. "How would you know?"

"Your Tata," he told her. "The one who went into the past with you on your birthday. During that week, he was affected by something that only happened to his past self."

"What was it?" Bridget asked.

Camilo swallowed thickly. "Asphyxiation."

Bridget's eyes widened. "How did Tata asphyxiate?"

Camilo blushed. "Deep throating his future self. The future version of him wasn't doing any breath play himself, but he almost passed out from lack of oxygen because his past self didn't stop to breathe until he came."

"Tata… had sex with himself?" Bridget uttered, stunned.

"Sí." Camilo shrugged. "But that's beside the point. The point is, if you could find out whether something that happens to the alternate you affects this you too, then we'd know if you actually replaced her or not."

Bridget frowned. "I think, instead of trying to test it, I should go back with the intention of filling her shoes if necessary but hold back until I know whether I need to or not."

Ephraim shook his head. "You couldn't fill her shoes. There's no way you'd be able to fake being possessed."

"I won't need to," Bridget assured him. "Either they're going to be there and history will happen the same way without my involvement, or it will be the an iteration of history where things happen differently because I'm the one doing it instead."

"If that's the case, then you'll definitely see your possessed self there and be able to come right back," Ephraim asserted. "Otherwise this conversation would never happen, and without this conversation you'd never know that you have to go back to replace them."

Bridget seemed unbothered. "Without this conversation, there would be something else to make me go back. It's like with Toni's death; you said you remember me thinking about having to stop him from committing suicide, right? The thing is, I never thought that. I didn't know he'd successfully killed himself until he told me months later. I first went back because Toni told me I had to go and have sex with him then. In order to maintain continuity, I just have to make sure you hear me thinking about the fact that I went back to prevent him from killing himself when I go back this time."

"Alright," Ephraim conceded, "that solves that one, but not the possession thing."

"The possession thing doesn't have to happen, because it had no bearing on our lives," Bridget assured him. "If history is altered, the circumstances of me going back in time to do it will be different too. Don't worry, fate will work everything out somehow. It always does."

Chapter Text

Bridget mind-slipped so she would appear to be the approximate age she thought her future self had been when she waylaid her on that fateful day, then body-jumped so she'd be ready to step in and take her place if she needed to. Arriving in the past, she got the strangest sense of déjà vu watching her fourteen-year-old self hug Bruno tightly. He returned her embrace without a word, dropping a kiss on her head as he rubbed her back.

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" the younger Bridget asked him tearfully.

He swallowed thickly. He clearly wanted to say yes but couldn't because he didn't know for sure and he always had to tell the truth. "I hope he will, Bridget. I really hope he will. You both deserve to be happy."

The younger Bridget nodded. "Let's go home."

This was obviously the moment.

"On three."

It didn't seem like anything was going to happen.

"One…"

It was down to her to preserve the altered history now.

"Two…"

"Wait!" the older Bridget called out as she ran up to her younger self.

The younger Bridget blinked in shock at the appearance of an older version of herself. "What… What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to stop you," the older Bridget said. "You have to stay here."

The younger Bridget cocked her head. "Why?"

The older Bridget struggled to hide the pain as she said and did everything that the other version of herself had said and done when it happened to her. It nearly killed her to snap at her Tata, God rest his soul, but that was something that went a long way toward convincing herself to stay the extra week.

She couldn't suppress the tears of grief any longer after she turned her back on her Tata and her past self. When she rounded the corner and saw Ephraim, her heart skipped a beat.

"Tía Bridget?" Ephraim murmured, searching her face. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, trying to keep her mind off of what she had just done. I just did what I had to do.

Ephraim looked unsettled. "What have you done?"

She sniffled, trying to focus on anything other than what her mission had been this time. What she ultimately settled on was her other self's original mission - the one she didn't remember, from before history had changed in the first place. I couldn't live with Toni killing himself, she thought as she met Ephraim's eyes. I had to come back here and prevent it from happening.

Ephraim gasped audibly, staring agape at her as he thought, You're changing history?

I'm in love with Toni, Bridget asserted. I'm never going to let him commit suicide.

You didn't come back far enough to stop his first attempt, Ephraim silently commented.

I couldn't, Bridget informed him. That would have changed too much. Some things have to happen.

Ephraim's brow furrowed. His first suicide attempt had to happen, but you can change the fact that he actually died when he tried it again?

I know what I'm doing, Ephraim, she sighed.

He searched her eyes before nodding. I believe you. You knew what could and couldn't be done with my existence, so you must know what you're doing here as well.

Chapter Text

Dolores shook her head. "She never said it out loud, so I'm pretty sure Ephraim is the only one who found out. Your guess could be right, though; a week would be plenty of time for you to become pregnant in the past. If you had left when you were going to that same day, there's no way your egg would have been fertilized before you jumped. There wouldn't have been anything there yet for your Gift to abort, and conception would occur after you returned to your present time."

"He knew," Camilo blurted. At the confused looks he was given, he expounded, "Rocco. He knew. Remember, Bridget, when you talked to his ghost? He said his DNA was flawed, that he would be suffering in life, and he was grateful to have been spared such a miserable existence. He must've known somehow that, if he survived, he'd want to die anyway."

"He… He even told me himself," Bridget realized. "He stressed to me that it wasn't my fault. It's because it was his decision all along." She bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "The question now is whether I took my other self's place or not."

Camilo frowned. "Haven't you already taken her place?"

Bridget shook her head. "I only thought that because I didn't have all of the information. Now I think…" She pressed her lips to her baby's forehead. "I don't want to do this. I really don't. But it's not up to me; only Rocco has the right to make this choice. As much as it breaks my heart, I have to fulfill my son's dying wish: I have to abort him."

Chapter Text

When Antonio returned to Bridget's side, he was contrite. "I'm sorry," he said before anyone else could speak.

Bridget nodded. "I forgive you, Toni."

"Y-you do?" he stammered. "Already?"

"You've forgiven me for some pretty awful shit in the past," she pointed out, laying a hand on his arm where she'd scratched him nine years ago. "I know that you're truly sorry. I'm not going to hold a grudge against my children's Papá."

"Most of your children's," he mumbled.

"No, Toni." Her hand gripped his arm. "You are Papá to all of my children, regardless of whether or not you fathered them. Mirabel wasn't my biological mother, but she was still my Mamá. Ephraim was adopted, but Luisa is still his Mamá. It doesn't matter whose egg and sperm created a baby, all that matters is that they are loved and cared for by their family."

Antonio cleared his throat, trying not to cry as he looked from Bridget to the person standing next to her who was also holding a baby. "Camilo?" he checked.

"Sí," Camilo confirmed.

Antonio couldn't bear to look his brother in the face, so he gave the child in his own arms a kiss and said, "I would like for my daughter to call you Tata."

Bridget and Camilo shared a smile that he didn't see. "I'd like that as well," Camilo told him. "I would also like to discuss baby names with you."

Antonio was taken aback. "You didn't name yours while I was off being a dickhead?"

Camilo shook his head. "I'm no good at coming up with names. I asked you to name mine before, remember?"

"Yeah," Antonio chuckled. Turning to Bridget, he joked, "You were almost called Oscar."

Bridget raised an eyebrow and looked between the fathers of her children.

Camilo rolled his eyes. "When I was pregnant with you, I asked Antonio if he had any suggestions for baby names, and he told me he liked the name Oscar, but since my babies were going to be girls that wouldn't work."

"So Mirabel took the suggestion instead." Bridget nodded. "Tía Dolores mentioned it once when I body-jumped to a time before I was born."

Camilo turned to Antonio and prompted, "So…?"

Antonio nuzzled the baby in his arms. "I was thinking maybe Mikaela, if you want to use that name?"

"I think that name suits the one you're holding," Bridget piped up. "She has such a resemblance to you, it's only fitting."

A single tear sneaked out of Antonio's eye, dripping into little Mikaela's hair. "Perfect," he murmured as he kissed her head. "Well then how about Gabriela for yours?"

"Gabriela," Camilo mused as he stroked the head of the baby in his arms. "Yes, that's this one's name."

Antonio looked askance. "I thought you were holding Rafael?"

"I was," Camilo told him, "but I need to have some bonding time with Raf's baby sisters too, so we swapped. Speaking of which, might I have some time with his other sister now?"

"Your baby is his sister, but mine isn't," Antonio commented under his breath.

"Bite your tongue," Bridget snapped quietly. "Weren't you listening earlier? Fuck biology. Family is about love."

"You forget, hermanito," Camilo murmured as he tenderly exchanged Mikaela for Gabriela, "Rafael is biologically Tío Bruno's and Mirabel's. He's no more my son than Mikaela is my daughter."

"Get this straight, Toni," Bridget said seriously. "Rafael is my son, and has been ever since the moment he latched onto my breast for the first feeding of his life. Mirabel forfeited any claim or right she had to be his Mamá when she flat out tried to kill him. And you are my children's Papá. Which means the three of us…" She gestured between herself, Antonio, and Camilo. "…essentially have triplets. They all will call me 'Mamá', will call you 'Papá', and will call my Papá 'Tata'."

"What will Rafael call Mirabel, then?" Antonio questioned.

"He won't," Camilo said flatly. "As far as I'm concerned, that woman is dead to this family. Our children aren't going to have anything to do with her."