Miguel knew you wouldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter.

“Don’t tell mom about this, okay pollito?,” he’d ask, staring at you through the rear view mirror. He really didn’t know where he’d take you, he just knew he wanted you to be safe. With him. You didn’t need your other parents. He could take care of you.

“how ya feelin?” he’d softly ask you, unsure what to say now. Goddamnit, he knew this was wrong. He knew you weren’t really his baby, just some.. other version. And, he knew that his alternate self is probably going to shit a chicken when he realizes that you’re missing. Miguel just… couldn’t bear to watch you slip through his fingers. Not again.