Worth The Shot

Disease and Bad News

Today's fanart is by @ChocoTrufflattaii! We can all guess which scene it is... :D I love the little freckles on Camilo, they're such a cute detail! Off-topic, but the fire looks so warm swoosh-y! I love this!

BACK TO THE STORY

You gingerly skirted around Mirabel as you walked back to the Encanto. You didn't want to offend your friend, but what if her yellow disease was contagious? You glanced apprehensively at Camilo. He gave you a tiny half-smile, determination glowing in his green eyes.

I hope he knows what he's doing. I want to bring Mirabel home, too, but what if we're also bringing a plague? 

"Camilo? Mirabel? (Y/n)?" Pepa howled in the distance, cupping her hands to her mouth. She wiped sweat off of her forehead with her arm, exhaustion evident in her sluggish movements. 

"Over here!" You called, waving your arms above your head. "We're all here!"

Luisa, Pepa, and Julieta bounded across the bulky rocks that splayed over the ground. Pepa laughed with joy and relief as she bundled Mirabel in a tight hug. You cringed, preparing to warn Pepa about Mirabel's condition. You didn't have to. Julieta noticed first. 

"Oh no, sweetie," Julieta gasped, her soft, dark eyebrows raised in concern. The turquoise fabric of her skirt billowed like a cutout from the sky as she rushed to Mirabel's side. She trailed her finger down a bulging vein, careful not to hurt her daughter. "I've never seen anything like this. What does it feel like, mi vida?"

"It doesn't hurt, it's more like..." Mirabel scrunched up her nose, thinking. "Like when you have too much fizzy punch, and you need to let the air out. It's like there's something inside that shouldn't be there, and I feel like I might just explode if I don't let it free."

"This isn't natural," Pepa fretted, combing her hands through her hair. "We need to get you help, Mirabel. Julieta, are you sure you can't make healing arepas anymore? Oh, if only we had our miracle!"

Camilo left your side to calm Pepa. He rubbed his mother's back, murmuring soothing nothings. Pepa smiled tensely and kissed the top of his head.

Pepa's right. The miracle could fix everything. We could heal Mirabel. What if she dies because I'm playing it safe?

"There might be someone else we can ask for help," Julieta sighed, a reluctant frown shadowing her face. "We need to talk to Mama." Since the discovery of Alma's horrifying secret, the Madrigals had shunned Alma, cutting her safely out of the family. Nobody had seen her since the play. Nobody had been hurt by her since the play.

"No!" Pepa hissed, fire springing into her eyes. Her fingers protectively curled around the bouncy spirals of Camilo's hair. "After what she's done, she deserves no contact from the true Madrigal family! How could you even suggest that, Julieta?"

"Where does she live now? I can talk to her," you offered reluctantly. "I'm not a Madrigal. You could find out the answer and still avoid contact with her." Julieta brightly smiled at you, grateful for the way to appease Pepa's violent temper. 

"She disappeared into the forest," Luisa quietly explained, nodding to you. "I'm sure she's still there." 

Nodding back to Luisa, you slipped underneath the cover of the woods. Fawny trees stretched overhead, their green leaves flipping in the wind and dappling the forest floor with patches of warm sunlight. It didn't take long to stumble upon Alma's shelter. 

Wind swelled underneath mahogany bedsheets that knotted around the thick trunk of a tree. Unsteady sticks, driven into the dirt, supported the corners of the bedsheets, creating a makeshift lean-to shelter. A bright red bird plucked its beak around the shelter, releasing sharp, curious notes.

"The birds like the crumbs," Alma's voice explained. Her shelter cast a shadow over her face above her nose, but even as she smiled at you, you could see that her eyes were sad. Her overturned palm scattered bread into the gathered flock of songbirds. The snow-white crumbs glowed against the dark brown earth like little stars in the night sky.

"Hello, Senora Alma," you greeted and swallowed. You awkwardly scuffed your shoe against the ground, accidentally scraping dirt over a chunk of bread. The birds squawked in alarm, their colors flurrying upward in a burst of reverse confetti. You felt oddly intrusive by barging into her tragic scene.

"I thought I could control everything," Alma suddenly sighed. "I wanted their respect. I wanted to keep everything in line and safe."

"But you lost control," you remorselessly pointed out, anger swelling inside you at her pitiful state. "By forcing your grandchildren to fit your mould, you hurt them all. The only reason you've been cut out of the family is because you chose to not keep them safe."

"I suppose that's true." Alma's vulnerability vanished as she slammed on a cold mask of indifference. "But that's not why you're here, is it? What do you need?"

"It's... Mirabel," you admitted, leaning your shoulder up against the tree's bumpy bark. "Monsieur Gothel touched her, and ever since she's had these... freakish gold sun designs underneath her skin. It's spreading, and we're all worried about her."

"I've never heard of anything like that," Alma mused, her bony fingers bundling bread in a threadbare cloth. She packed the bread securely inside a velvet sack. "I'm going on a journey. I will search for answers about Mirabel."

"Where are you going?" you blinked, confounding by the idea of the stiff, old Madrigal abuela traveling anywhere past the Encanto. 

"Away," Alma smiled wryly, cradling her sack against her chest. "You weren't wrong when you said I harmed my family. I need time to figure... many things out." Alma straightened with impeccable posture, as if an overhead, invisible string drew up her head and back.

"You can change," you called after Alma as she gracefully stepped away. Alma paused at the top of the hill, dipping her head to acknowledge you. Her grey hair shimmered like silver in the sunlight, and then she was gone. 

---------------------------------------------

"What did she say? Did she know what's happening to our Mirabel?" Pepa demanded when you found the Madrigals gathered by Casita's rubble. The unruly jumble of bricks and splintered planks had been organized into chunky piles of building material. Julieta and Augustin whispered, shoulders close together, by the pile of glinting metal. Augustin's eyes darted toward Mirabel and then you with an unnerving expression. 

You shook your head helplessly, turning back to Pepa. Not even Alma could help. 

"(Y/n)," Augustin interjected, started towards you with that unreadable, concerned expression. He tripped on a stray block of sanded wood, flailing into Felix. You would have laughed, but Felix pressed his lips together, as if dreading what news might escape them. 

"What?" You squinted at Felix and Augustin, crossing your arms nervously. "Did something bad happen?" 

"It's not necessarily bad..." Augustin coughed, pushing up his glasses with his thumbs. He sighed. "Oh, I suppose it is bad."

"Spit it out!" Felix agitatedly cried, clapping Augustin on the back with his paw. "You're making me nervous, and I already know!" You chuckled nervously, eyes flitting back and forth between the two Madrigal men. 

"Your father is alive!" Augustin clumsily blurted. 

"Wh-what?" A cold pit of dread froze in your stomach. You would have launched a fleet of questions. But you couldn't. 

Because suddenly, immediately, Mirabel collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud. She convulsed on the ground, limbs twitching rigidly in a horrible dance. If the golden sun tendrils had been swollen before; now they throbbed, pulsed, burned like squirming larvae underneath her tight, sweaty skin.

A neon yellow glow washed out her eyes, transforming them into soulless, twin full moons. As she opened her mouth to scream, her words whispered a jarring chill along your goosebumped skin.

Because the velvety, deep voice that spoke did not belong to Mirabel.