


Just in the middle

by Ida Mirei



Category: Zorro
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2014-05-05 21:51:14
Rating: K+
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,335
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6318461/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2432986/Ida-Mirei
Summary: No matter how hard you protect you secrets, they will always affect people around you. Starts after the episode "A fair trial", when Don Alejandro is acquitted from Monastario's accusations and finishes after "The fall of Monastario".





	1. Disappointment

_No matter how hard you protect you secrets, they will always affect people around you. Starts after the episode "A fair trial", when Don Alejandro is acquitted from Monastario's accusations and finishes after "The fall of Monastario", when we farewell our favorite villain._

_Once again special thanks to IcyWaters, who not only read and corrected the story but also inspired it :)_

_All the characters belong to Disney._

* * *

**Just in the middle**

**Disappointment**

Don Alejandro de la Vega got up as early as he used to, just after the first beams of the sun lit up the patio in his hacienda. The pistol wound he got during the ill-fated escapade toward the cuartel a few days ago, though healing nicely, still made him a little frail, so he was determined to prove his ability to overcome any weakness.

He ate his breakfast alone – just as he was used to as well – but with each bite his irritation grew. His young, perfectly healthy son was of course still sleeping, and probably not going to get up till midday. What an idler!

Don Alejandro didn't want to admit that the true reason for his anger was not his son's laziness. The old Don would surely deny it, but deep in his heart he just felt... lonely. Lonely and forlorn. During the last days he survived a lot of difficult moments: he was wounded, chased, imprisoned and accused of treason. And the most bitter part of it was that he had to cope with all this without the slightest support from his son.

"He wasn't there," he whispered to himself, pushing away the tray with the food.

His son wasn't riding by his side when Don Alejandro and the other _haciendados_ decided to free Senora and Senorita Torres, accused by the corrupted _commandante_. He wasn't trying to help his wounded father when he was escaping from lancers.

"He was drinking! Drinking and singing bibulous songs with stupid soldiers!" Don Alejandro hissed through clenched teeth, throwing on the floor his rumpled napkin.

And he was late for his trial.

That was the most bitter experience. Attending the trial didn't require any special skills, wasn't connected with any danger. It was so simple – just get up on time and come. Yet, Diego didn't manage to do even this, he only came when the whole hearing was over. And Elena Torres and her mother waited since dawn in front of the _cuartel_…

True, at first Don Alejandro was so exhilarated with the unexpectedly positive verdict, declaring him innocent, that he didn't comment on Diego's strange absence. They celebrated his release together.

Nevertheless, later the disappointment came, changing into persistent rancor.

"I am not going to wake him," mumbled Don Alejandro to himself. "Let him sleep as long as he wishes, there is no use of him anyway, when he is awaken."

* * *

The old Don moved his thoughts away as energetically as the remains of his breakfast and was just about to leave the house, when the servant announced the visit of Doctor Hernandez.

"Welcome, Doctor! What a surprise!" exclaimed Don Alejandro a little baffled, leading his guest into the sala.

"What a surprise indeed!" repeated the doctor a bit mockingly, though with friendly smile. "Have you forgotten, my friend, about this nasty bullet that chose to take up residence in your breast only few days ago? Well, I didn't."

"But I assure you, I am perfectly healthy. Thanks to your care and skills, of course."

In spite of the compliments, Don Alejandro looked around impatiently, searching for the excuse to get rid of the doctor as soon as possible. The last, however, pretended not to notice the anxiety of his patient, only sat calmly in the sala and opened his old, leather bag, taking out different tools and medicaments.

"I wasn't convinced about paying you visit so early, Alejandro. I said to myself: I am sure that he will be still sleeping. Resting. Letting his body to heal and regain its strength, as any wise man would. No, I shouldn't disturb him. But then," the doctor waved for Don Alejandro to sit in front of him and unbutton his shirt, "I reconsidered it and decided that if I come just ten minutes later, I may not find my friend at home."

The doctor leant himself over the wound, examined it carefully, nodded with satisfaction and started to put the new dressing on it.

"So, how is our patient today?" a merry voice sounded just above them, so suddenly, that Doctor Hernandez jumped, almost dropping the bandage. As for such a tall man, Alejandro's son has the ability to move extremely quiet.

"Absolutely fine," he answered with the smile. "Your father is strong and healthy, as if he were a man of your age, Diego."

"I told you, I am all right, Doctor. You shouldn't bother yourself with riding here," nagged Don Alejandro, yet let the doctor to finish his job, knowing that it is the quickest way to get rid of his care. He didn't raise his head to look at Diego, as if he was reluctant to acknowledge his presence in the room.

Doctor Hernandez, however, looked at Diego and even with the quick glance noticed the uncommon affliction of the usually cheerful and serene caballero. This time the merry voice was a fake. Diego looked tired and weary.

"Slept well, young man?" he asked.

"As the matter of fact, no," answered Diego shaking his head. "I just couldn't sleep. I had to take some sleeping potion, but it seems that it didn't have good effect on me."

"You should be careful with this, Diego. At your age sleeping potion is not necessary. More movement on the fresh air and all your problems would be over."

"I fully agree and I will do my best to follow your advice," Diego bowed politely his head.

Doctor Hernandez couldn't miss the angry snicker of Don Alejandro and he was sure that Diego acknowledged it too, as the young man turned slowly to the window.

_Alejandro is too harsh with his son. The boy is probably in love... or just drank too hard last night and now is too ashamed to admit it, _thought the doctor. He decided to change the subject:

"Have you heard what happened yesterday at the Mission San Gabriel?"

Diego didn't move, but Don Alejandro raised his head with the sudden interest.

"No. What was it?"

'"As you know, the whole share from the taxes that goes to the mission was deposited in the church. The safest place, before Padre Benitez properly allocates them. And someone robbed it!"

"From the church?" asked incredulously Don Alejandro.

"Just feet from the altar!" confirmed the doctor, shaking his head with indignation.

Diego didn't seem neither too scandalized, nor too interested, but he left the window and sat in the armchair near two old friends.

"Any news who did it?" he asked, hiding his face in his hands. The doctor thought that he must have really taken some potion that was still affecting him.

"No," replied the doctor. "Well, of course, Monastario arrested some poor natives, but..."

"Natives? But these poor souls would die for Padre Benitez! And they would never rob the church!" Don Alejandro's face was full of indignation, he looked around searching for support or explanation, but his eyesight didn't cross with Diego's, as the young man's face was still hidden in his palms.

"I agree," nodded sadly the doctor, "but we all know what kind of man Monastario is. Ruthless. He would do anything to cover his incompetence. And he treats natives like animals."

"They must be scared to death," suddenly whispered Diego. "Poor Innocence has already been kept in _cuartel_ once, flogged and tortured. Did Monastario already command to flog them?" he raised his brown eyes on the doctor. They were glittering so strangely, that the doctor thought the young man must be feverish.

"I do not know anything about it. But, anyway," he smiled bitterly, "Monastario wouldn't bother himself with calling for the doctor to see to the wounded native."

Gloomy silence fell in the sala. Neither of the de la Vegas spoke anything, each of them drawn in their own thoughts. To break the heavy moment the doctor asked:

"So, you heard about it already, Diego?"

"Me? Why?" asked the young man a bit unconsciously.

"Well, one of the arrested was Innocence."

For a moment the young Don looked a bit absently around, and the doctor already thought he didn't understand his question, when Diego replied a bit unsurely:

"Innocence always does the church service... It was obvious that he will be among the accused..."

"Obvious!" Don Alejandro hissed with such irritation, that both the doctor and Diego jumped on their seats. "If everything is suddenly so obvious for you, my son, why don't you finally start doing something with it!"

Finally the sight of son and father crossed. Doctor Hernandez thought that he was going to witness the family quarrel and felt very uncomfortable. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he started quickly to gather his tools. Yet, the storm was not to come. Diego broke the eye contact first, lowering his head and leaning back in the armchair, as if moving back out of the range of his father's anger.

"If I only could," he whispered after the long moment.

"If you only tried," accented Don Alejandro, now gazing at him steadily.

Doctor Hernandez felt sorry for the young man.

"Even Zorro wasn't able to do anything, Alejandro," he said peaceably.

"Zorro was there?" asked the old Don, suddenly excited. His son didn't seem to care for the masked revenger, he only rubbed his temple again.

"Of course he was!" Doctor Hernandez smiled for a moment. People in Los Angeles used to speak about their fox with smile and excitement. However, the smile soon faded and the doctor finished with the heavy sigh: "But it was too late. There were already plenty of lancers, natives were already under guard... Yet, Zorro gave a good show! He climbed somehow to the campanile, and, while the soldiers were trying to get him, demonstrated – again – that Monastario is an idiot, trying to arrest these poor Indians. That was great, Alejandro, Diego, you should have seen him! He mocked our_ commandande _as usual – or even more than usual – and in the same breath proved that the natives are innocent, so skillfully as a lawyer... All with bullets hissing around him and lancers trying to climb the tower!"

"But he didn't manage to make Monastario free the natives," suddenly interrupted Diego with strange to him irritation. The doctor looked at him surprised. Was that boy jealous of Zorro? The same thought was ridiculous. They had nothing in common.

Yet, Diego was right.

"No. He didn't. And Monastario was so humiliated, that he promised to hang all his prisoners if Zorro wouldn't give himself up before the next dawn."

Alejandro's eyes went wide with shock.

"Hang? But he knows they are innocent! Is he really going to do it?"

"Knowing Monastario, he is," concluded unexpectedly loudly Diego, who rose and went to the window again.

* * *

After the doctor had left, Don Alejandro started to pace nervously up and down through the sala.

"I am not going to leave this like that. I won't let this crooked scoundrel terrorize the whole land. I suspect that he is even madder at the Fox because he helped me, so it is my responsibility now to pay that debt."

"Why do you think that all debts must be paid, Father?" asked Diego with strange, half sad, half amused smile.

The older Don stopped and looked at his son for a moment, trying to understand the meaning of his words. Finally, he gave up and waved his hand.

"I must do something."

"Hardly had you got out from the troubles, and yet you are already searching for the new ones?" stated Diego, raising his eyebrows. His smile was so warm and caring, that Don Alejandro must have smiled back. The soft tenderness in his son's voice washed away his anger.

"Don't worry, Son," he replied patting his shoulders. "I will be more careful this time. But we must help the Fox. I will call other _haciendados_. Together..."

"Again, Father?" Diego interrupted him with kind of amusement. "It will do nothing, only infuriate him, if you try to put the pressure on him. Why don't you rather... talk to him? Try to reason? Maybe you will manage to persuade some relief for his poor prisoners. Maybe he will even release some of them."

"Well, I can talk to him at first," agreed Don Alejandro reluctantly. "I will go right now." He stood up, but Diego grabbed his arm.

"Today Monastario makes the drill exercises for the lancers... He would not be happy to be disturbed. Go to him at the evening, after the supper. You will probably find him in the tavern, it might be easier to talk with him over some good wine."

Don Alejandro couldn't remember hearing about any drill exercises, however, his son spent so much time with Sergeant Garcia that he probably knew the best, what and where the lancers were doing.

"All right then. But if that doesn't help and he captures Zorro, I will, I repeat, I will gather my friends and demand at least fair trial for him."

"I guess I will not be able then to stop you from doing this," Diego agreed with one of his warm, friendly smiles. "But at least give the Fox the chance to try to solve the problem in his own way first."

That was wise, thought Don Alejandro. Surprisingly, the masked outlaw has much more ways to solve the problem than dozens of wealthy _haciendados_, bounded by law, by their duties, by their families.

"What do you think he may do?" he asked a bit absently.

"Well, I suppose that he will try to free the natives, and if this attempt fails, he will turn himself in," said Diego slowly. Alejandro had the feeling that his son wanted to add something else, but resigned.

None of them spoke for a moment. Alejandro thought about the young, brave man in black, who fought with such devotion for what he believed in. Oh, he was not the first noble _bandito_ in California! There were many before him, whose desperation, usually born in protection of their homes and families, put them behind the law. They were brave and determined. People cheered them, told legends about their adventures, sang songs about them. And they all had similar end, either in battle or on the gallows their lives ended and bodies turned into dust under nameless crosses. The song lasted longer, but sooner or later they were all forgotten...

_The same fate will meet el Zorro, _thought Don Alejandro, suddenly scared. _No matter how dashing, how full of life, how graceful in his movements or witty in his words he is, he will die and turn into dust._

_I will do my best to help him_, he promised silently, taken by bad premonitions and fear about the masked hero.

Then he looked at Diego, who was still smiling a little wryly, his eyes warm and caring. It reminded him about the same warm expression in the eyes of the Fox, when he was trying to treat Don Alejandro's wounds. Yes, he did think then, that it was Diego. That it was his son who was wearing the black disguise. For a moment, he was sure – until he learnt that Diego spent all that time in the companion of three lancers who guarded him all the time. How disappointed he was then!

Now he suddenly felt something absolutely different: relief.

Relief, that his son is safe here, in the hacienda, that he will not be shot, stabbed, led to gallows. That all these heavy thoughts, dark premonitions did not refer to him. That the father will not have to see the dust falling on his son's grave.

_I won't be a foolish old man again, who wants his son to be his mirror. __Diego is different than me and I will learn to appreciate him just as he is_. True, his son was too passive and lazy, but he was also warm-hearted and usually wise in his judgments. _Let him live his own way,_ thought Don Alejandro, _I just want him by my side again._

"Diego," he started with a cordial smile, stretching hand to him, to underline that his words mean something more than simple proposition, that it is an invitation to reconciliation, "I will go to Monastario at the evening, as you advise. I want just talk to him, maybe I will manage to persuade him to some reason. Will you come with me? You are far better when it comes to negotiations."

The older man looked at his son with expectation, slowly realizing that his warm words are going to be left without proper response. Diego's smile faded, his face closed.

"I am sorry, Father, I have other obligations," he said flatly.

"Then call them off," there was a kind of threat in Don Alejandro's voice. De la Vega's temper was always easy to wake.

"I cannot, Father," answered simply his son and without further explanations turned back and headed for his room. Just before exiting the sala, however, he suddenly stopped and said quietly without looking at Don Alejandro:

"Father, I always had the best intentions, even if the result might not be as I wished... Please, remember that, whatever happens."


	2. Hope

**Hope**

It was the hottest hour of the day. It was so quiet at the patio, that it almost gave the impression that the hacienda was empty. Benito cautiously entered through the small gate near the stables, hoping that thanks to the siesta, his return would remain unnoticed and no one would ask him about his escapade. He looked anxiously around, but didn't notice any movement. Relieved, he decided to sneak to the stables and pretend that he fell asleep and spent the whole afternoon there. When he wanted, he could move soundlessly and watchfully like the wild cat - the abilities that he inherited from his native ancestors. And yet, he was totally taken by the surprise when he suddenly heard the question, asked in a friendly, merry voice:

"So, Benito, you have been to see Senorita Elena? I hope you gave her my regards?"

At first Benito tensed, but that relaxed, seeing young Senor de la Vega emerging from the shadows of the building.

"Buenos dias, Patron," he said with a smile. He liked the young caballero. Oh, certainly, he knew that Don Diego is the laughing stock of the pueblo, and a great disappointment to his father – but there was also something in him that forced people to like him. Maybe that he treated everyone with the same respect, regardless of their status or wealth? And, what was the most important, he was the only one who took seriously Benito's feelings for the caballero's daughter, Elena Torres. Even his own mother didn't approve it! And Don Diego didn't laugh, didn't reprimand him, didn't even pity him – he behaved as if that relation was something absolutely normal. It gave Benito more courage than he was willing to admit.

"Benito, I would like to ask you for a favor," said the young Don nearing to him.

"Si, Don Diego? What can I do?"

"My father is going to speak with the _commandante _this evening. Just after supper. I would like you to go with him and take care that he doesn't do anything too reckless... you know, to keep an eye that he didn't get himself into the new troubles," Diego smiled and made some undecided gesture in the air, signifying: 'I do not know how to say it, but you know what I mean'.

Benito thought that when it comes to abstaining from reckless situations, Don Diego would be much better guard than he, but he kept it for himself. It was none of his business why the young man was not willing to ride with his father.

He only nodded:

"I will be glad to help and I will do my best."

Saying that, Benito wanted to leave, but Diego stopped him:

"One thing more, my friend... I think that you should finally visit not the senorita, but her father..."

When Benito understood the meaning of Diego's words, he stood stunned for a moment.

"But, Patron... you cannot mean that... I would never dare..."

"Well, you should, if your intentions are pure!" Diego laughed and patted his shoulder. "You should ask for her hand, as soon as possible!" he raised his hand to silence Benito's protests and continued: "as soon as possible, while Senor Torres remembers how close he was to death... to leaving his daughter alone and helpless, on the mercy of Monastario... She needed a devoted defender then, and you proved that you would protect her with your life."

"But... I did nothing, Senor! I only tried... It was Zorro, who..." Benito stuttered.

"Zorro will not marry her. You will," said the young Don with such certainty, that Benito almost started to believe that it is possible.

"And, Benito, Elena is the only heiress to the Torres rancho, so she doesn't need her husband to bring land or cattle... but, just in case, if it might help in the talk with Don Ignatio, I will give you that little household by the Camino Real as the wedding gift. It is not big, but the land is good. And the house is in fairly good condition."

Benito looked at him stunned, with fear and disbelief.

"No! I... I could never accept such..."

"Nonsense. You must do everything to make your ladylove happy, don't you think?" Diego laughed lightly and Benito, although confused by the whole situation, realized with amazement, that young man is speaking to him as he would to one of his caballero friends. And he was right. Elena loved him, so he should do everything to make their common future possible. Yet, there was something else.

"Don Alejandro would never..."

"It belongs to me. Well, belonged. Now it is yours," Diego took some paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and reached to him.

Benito shook his head, half capitulating.

"Too early for the wedding gift, Senor. I haven't even asked for her hand yet."

"Well, take it now, in case I couldn't do it later," Diego said lightly, and, on silent question in Benito's eyes, finished suddenly irritated: "Oh, I may forget, or something!"

_I will never understand him, _thought Benito. He was so confused by the talk, by the gift, by the young master's strange behavior, that he just took the paper, muttering quietly, "Gracias".

Diego was calm again. He nodded, smiled and said, as lightly as before:

"Just be happy, Benito... and remember to take care about my father."

* * *

"I will go with you, Patron," Benito approached Don Alejandro, leading two saddled horses, when the old Don was preparing himself for the ride to the pueblo.

"No, _gracias_, Benito. I will go alone," answered shortly Don Alejandro. Benito felt that he was irritated, but wasn't going to resign.

"Por favor, Patron. Just to keep you company. Don Diego asked me to."

"Diego!" exclaimed Alejandro with sudden anger and Benito regretted mentioning the name of the young man. Then however, Alejandro, as if very tired, waved his hand and muttered, "All right then. Go."

Benito opened the gate and they rode silently into the darkness. They didn't make it far, however, when the shy shadow loomed on the road in front of them. Benito instinctively grabbed his knife and moved in front of Don Alejandro:

"Innocence!" he exclaimed in disbelief, when he saw the man's face.

"You are free? What happened? And the others?" asked impatiently Don Alejandro.

"They are here," the native waved in the direction of the bushes. "We were freed by the black man."

"Zorro?" Don Alejandro and Benito asked simultaneously, but Innocence shook his head.

"No. Man in black, masked, but not fox. Other man. Other horse. He never spoke the word, only led us here and left me this," he gave Don Alejandro a folded piece of paper.

The old man read it quickly and handed to Benito. "_Senor de la Vega, I hope that you will be able and willing to take these men into safe hiding. They are innocent and pursued only because of me. Help them, in the name of help I was able to give you. Forever your friend and debtor. Z."_

Benito looked at his master expectantly, but Don Alejandro already waved for the Indian.

"Come. Take the others to the hacienda quickly. We will hide you there now, tomorrow we will think of some other shelter."

"There are many places in the mountains where we can hide," nodded Innocence and disappeared for a moment in the bushes. He returned after a while, leading six more men, looking tired and scared, but unharmed.

"He did it, Benito! He freed them!" joy beamed from the face, eyes and voice of Don Alejandro. He looked a few years younger now.

Benito didn't want to spoil his joy, yet he noticed:

"Innocence said that it was someone else."

"Yes," said the Indian in his husky voice. "It was someone else. The Fox lured the lancers from the cuartel. He mocked them, played with them, until they all followed."

The face of the older Don darkened.

"I believe he will be able to loose the pursuit."

They were already near the hacienda and Benito dismounted to open the gate:

"Of course he will," he said calmingly. "The Fox always gets away."

It took a while to accommodate the natives, give them some food and blankets. Don Alejandro wanted Benito to do it himself – the less servants knew about their presence, the lower the risk was. It was almost midnight when Benito for the last time crossed the patio, just to check whether everything is calm and quiet. To his surprise, he found the old Don sitting in the corner, with wine he didn't drink.

"Everything is done, Patron. We may go to sleep," he said quietly, but Don Alejandro didn't move. He kept silent so long, that Benito started to feel uncomfortable, when finally the old man spoke:

"Go and rest, Benito. You have done a lot today," and added absent-minded: " I wanted to send Diego to the mission, to let Padre Benitez know that the natives are safe... but neither he nor Bernardo are at home... I forgot he had 'other obligations'..."

Benito didn't know what to reply. He just stood, embarrassed, not wanting to leave the old man alone. Finally Don Alejandro looked at him and confessed:

"I am worried about the Fox."

"He always gets away," repeated Benito, but then added shyly, "if you allow, Patron... I will sit with you... Maybe we will hear some news..."

For a moment Benito was scared with his own words, but Don Alejandro wasn't offended. He just pointed him wordlessly the chair near him and stared into the darkness again.

* * *

Benito didn't know how long they sat in the silence that night. They didn't speak, they didn't drink. Benito was thinking about Elena and the talk he was going to have tomorrow with Don Ignatio. For a moment he wanted to confide to Don Alejandro, but then he resigned. The old Don might treat him as friend, but marriage with the caballero's daughter... No, in that case Don Alejandro wouldn't be so liberal as his son...

His thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of horses' hoofs and loud knocking in the gate. Benito rose to open it once more – and to let Sergeant Garcia to the patio. The rest of the lancers waited outside.

"Sergeant? What are you doing here at this hour?" asked Don Alejandro sharply, suddenly straight and proud as usual.

A fear clung in Benito's throat. Did they know that the Indians are here and came for them?

"We are chasing Zorro," explained the sergeant, a bit worried, a bit confused as usual.

"So, chase him. He is not here," replied obliviously Don Alejandro. Benito could only admire the change in him. The man was indeed a good actor.

"I know, Don Alejandro. He is probably in the mountains. That was where we lost his trace," the sergeant creased his hat.

"If you lost his trace, why do you think you will be able to find him? He is probably far away by now," however good actor Don Alejandro was, Benito noticed relief and merry sparks in his eyes.

"Oh, he is most likely wounded. Monas... _Commandante _thinks he shot him. And now the _commandante_ sends us to search for him, until we find him," sighed Sergeant Garcia. Benito could swear he rolled his eyes... but it was to dark to be sure.

"Then why are you here?" there was something very unpleasant in Don Alejandro's voice.

"I thought, Don Alejandro, that you might help us. We are searching the mountains; we need more men to do it. You could take a few vaqueros and..."

"Why do you think I would help Monastario?" Don Alejandro almost laughed.

"To find the Fox, of course. So that he would be delivered to the cuartel and punished. If he is wounded, it shouldn't be a difficult task..." explained Sergeant Garcia as if he was speaking to the child.

Benito couldn't believe how stupid that man was. He almost stepped back, awaiting the outburst of the famous de la Vega temper. Yet...it didn't come. Don Alejandro pierced the sergeant with a steady glance for a moment, and suddenly said:

"All right. I will take a few men and help you."

"Gracias, Don Alejandro! You will find us near Camino Real, by the mountains," Sergeant Garcia beamed, bowed and left the hacienda.

Benito looked at his patron in disbelief. What was he doing? A few minutes before he was sitting in the darkness, so deep in worries about the Fox as if he was mourning after his own son, and now he wants to deliver him to the lancers?

"Gather the men that are in the hacienda," ordered sharply Don Alejandro and, when Benito stood motionless for a while, looked at him menacingly, so that the young man jumped to carry his orders.

It didn't take long, when six men gathered their weapon and took the horses, yet Don Alejandro was already waiting on his stallion under the gate. He looked at them cautiously.

"The lancers are chasing Zorro in the mountains. They believe he is hurt. We are going to help them."

Benito didn't even wink, but he could hear surprised – and angry rumblings among the other men. Yet, Don Alejandro only smiled, as if he was satisfied with such reaction.

"I hope I do not have to explain to you, that if any of you notice something black behind the stones, he will shout exactly so loud, that it will reach my ears only?"

Benito smiled too, and noticed the same knowing smiles on the faces of his companions.


	3. Passion

**Passion**

It was night. Tornado liked the night. He felt good in darkness. Even if he had to ride on the stones, climb the slope, jump over the ravine – he was never frightened or unsure. He felt the road as much as he saw it.

And it was a noisy night. Shouts, shots. Pursuit. Strange, but Tornado liked it too. He liked the chase, because he was always the fastest. The best. The first. It was like a race, which the result was always certain.

Yet this night was different. The noises were too near. No, it was not Tornado's fault. Just after his man jumped on his back, he wanted to fly like the wind. He would leave the chase far behind him in seconds. But he was stopped. His man wanted him to stop, to dance between the houses, until the bullets started to hiss around them.

And when he was finally allowed to run, his man slowed him. Even stopped him. Looked back. Waited. Waited for shouts and bullets.

How Tornado didn't like it! He could always feel the danger coming, the death coming. This time it was too close. It made him kick and rear. How he would like to shout at his man, make him understand: you must run.

Stupid man.

Tornado almost decided not to obey him any longer, when they finally started to run for real. He did what he could to make up for the lost time, yet something was wrong. They changed the way too often. Tornado recognized the road. First it led to the cave. It was a bit too early to retire, so when they met the shouts on the path and changed the direction, Tornado was even satisfied. He wanted more race that night.

Then they headed for the ravine. That ravine. The biggest one. Tornado loved it. Whenever they flied over it, he felt his man proud with him. Well, he should be. No other horse would do it. Even without the rider. Tornado already felt the excitement before the jump, when the shouts made them change the direction once again.

Too many changes. Too many, that it could be a plan.

Now they were already in the mountains, and yet the shouts were quite near.

Stupid man. How could he let them come so close? Shouts and shots. They wanted to kill him, Tornado felt it. And something else too: his man was not riding as sure as always. He was wavering. Tornado felt his pain. Weakness. Blood. Smell of blood made him panic. He wanted to ride more gently, but it would let the pursuit to get nearer.

"Stop, Tornado," he heard the whisper. Tornado felt the rider dismounting cautiously. "Stop. I will not make it on you any further. Better lead them from here."

Bad idea. Tornado knew what is wanted from him, yet didn't want to obey. The death was too near. He wanted to stay with his man. To scare the death away.

"Go, Tornado! Lure them!" The whisper was demanding now, and after the moment Tornado obeyed.

He ran along the path. He made noise. For them to hear, to follow.

They followed.

That was good. Tornado felt that his man was safe. Now he only had to lure the chase, as far as possible.

Suddenly, he heard the stones, rolling stones. Just in the place were he parted with his man.

Their link suddenly was broken.


	4. Doubts

**Doubts**

Sergeant Garcia almost fell from the horse, when the tired animals stumbled on the stones, but he didn't curse, only patted his mount with compassion. He was tired too; tired, cold and hungry. The uniform was even more uncomfortable than usual, jacket too tight, soaked by the fog, it gave no warmth, only limited the movements.

He rode with the lancers along the Camino Real for the second time that night, now seeing even less sense in that escapade than during the first hectic pursuit after Zorro earlier that night. The Fox always got away, there was no use in chasing him. Wouldn't it be better if they simply waited in their warm quarters until he frees the prisoners? And the result would be just the same: no Zorro and no natives.

On the second thought, it would be even better not to imprison the natives at all. Then they all would spend the evening in much more pleasant way: the Fox wherever he wants and Garcia in the tavern, with a bit of luck in the company of Don Diego. The young caballero would joke, laugh and tell his witty stories making the evening as enjoyable as usual. Maybe he would even bring the guitar and sing some of his merry songs, or accompany the lancers to dance with the tavern maids... The sergeant almost smiled, imagining that delightful picture.

Then he sighted heavily. Monastario has to spoil it all, as usual, by setting the next silly trap and chasing _el Zorro _for hours with unusual determination. And when finally the sergeant returned with his squad, informing – how truly – that they lost the trail of the Fox somewhere in the mountains, he mercilessly sent them back, forbidding them to return without his enemy, dead or alive.

"I got him this time! I hit him!" he shouted. "Wounded, he won't escape far! Just go and find him!"

That could be true. It seemed that the Fox curled for a moment after Monastario's shot. One could say that he was too cocky this time, provoking the lancers, riding in circles between the houses, returning with new mockeries and insults he addressed to Monastario, until the _commandante_, red and mad with fury, ordered all the lancers to follow him. One could say so... Garcia knew that the masked rider wanted to lure all the lancers out of the cuartel, so that he could calmly free the natives while they were searching for him in the darkness. If the sergeant wanted to keep the prisoners behind the bars, he would leave more than one lancer on guard. If he wanted... but he didn't, so he only followed the orders.

Garcia had no idea how the bandit managed to free the natives, but when the lancers returned to the cuartel, the guard was stunned and the cells empty. Monastario almost went crazy with rage and immediately ordered the lancers to go for the search once more. The sergeant could do nothing, but obey, cursing silently into the darkness.

And yet...

_What if the Fox really is somewhere there, wounded? What if I find him this time?_ he thought leaving the pueblo. At first he felt excited with the perspective of catching the famous outlaw. On the second though, he felt panicked. _I do not want to catch him, I do not want Monastario get him! _He looked around anxiously, as if afraid that someone would hear his thoughts and inform on them to the _commandante_.

_During the last few weeks that bandit spoke to me more polite words than Monastario in the last year. I do not want him to be humiliated. He is too... formidable to be defeated by such a man as Monastario._

But there was nothing he could do. He had to follow the orders. If the lancers somehow find and defeat Zorro, they will have to bring him to the cuartel. If Garcia were only a free man, not under orders!...

They were just passing de la Vega hacienda, when he though about it. His eyes fell on the gate to the patio and suddenly he stopped the horse. _I am not free... but I can arrange some free men, not under orders, to be there with us... just in case. El Zorro did much to save Don Alejandro's life, perhaps now it is the time for the old Don to help the Fox..._

He knocked at the door a little scared, unsure of the reaction of the short-tempered Don. He was always a bit frightened in the presence of Don Alejandro, much too imposing for the poor sergeant. _Had it not been for his son, he wouldn't even speak to me... I know, he rebuked Don Diego many times for drinking with me..._

Of course the talk with Senor de la Vega was not a pleasant one.

"So chase him," said Don Alejandro so obliviously, that it sounded almost like an insult under the address of the sergeant.

Oh yes, Garcia knew that the old Don never thought high about him. _He thinks that I am incompetent and stupid. That I would never catch the Fox. Well, it might be true. The last one, of course._

"I thought, Don Alejandro, that you might help us," he said shyly, afraid of one of the famous outbursts of the de la Vega. He regretted his strange impulse and wished he were far, far away. Yet, he had to finish what he started.

"Why do you think I would help Monastario?" Don Alejandro laughed with disdain and Garcia felt very small and pitiful. _I would never dare to oppose the capitán. _However, he replied as planned. He said: "To find the Fox... he is wounded," hoping that Don Alejandro would notice these words and understand the need of his presence.

He did. The satisfied sparks shined in his eyes, when he suddenly agreed to ride. Paradoxically, it irritated the sergeant. _Oh, you think you are so wise, the great haciendado..._ _But if that could help the Fox..._

Just as he left the hacienda he suddenly regretted his action. What will Monastario do, when he hears that the sergeant asked his sworn enemy for help? And exactly why did Garcia try to help the outlaw? He was embezzling his duties. And... lessening his chance for the reward... Two thousand pesos – it was a nice sum! He could buy a small piece of land and start some business for it. Of course he would never do it – he was not made to be farmer or merchant, only the soldier, until his death. He would just guzzle the money in the tavern, but it would be nice too.

_No. It wouldn't. _The sergeant suddenly shook with disgust.

Anyway, Monastario would probably keep the reward for himself. _And let him have it, bloody money! _The sergeant concluded his considerations with silent curse.

They were already in the mountains. His horse stumbled, it was cold.

"All right, dismount and spread. We are starting the search!" he ordered in tired voice and the lancers reluctantly obeyed. Sergeant Garcia set off into the darkness as well, knocking on the stones and praying that he would not meet the Fox.

* * *

At first he noticed the horse. The very same, usually so magnificent horse, now sniffing helplessly at some dark shape on the ground. When Garcia came near, the horse raised his head and whinnied quietly – it sounded almost like crying.

"All right, horsie... Just let me see..." said cautiously the sergeant, remembering how dangerous that animal could be.

This time however the horse only moved back a little, snorting anxiously.

Garcia knelt over the limp body. It was the Fox – motionless and unconscious. His body was covered with dust and small stones, clear evidence that he must had fallen from the slope.

_It cannot be,_ thought Garcia panicked, _the Fox always gets away, he couldn't just fall!_

The sergeant examined the body more carefully and found the pistol wound in the arm of the masked man. Not very dangerous itself, it certainly made climbing the stones rather difficult. For a moment he thought that the bandit was dead and terrible grief clenched his heart. Sure, the Fox must have ended that way, sooner or later... but Garcia just didn't want to see it.

Then he realized that the masked man is still breathing and, after a short relief, he realized that now he, Garcia, really is in trouble. _What shall I do, for Heaven's sake? Well, I shall call the lancers and take him to the cuartel, but..._

In sudden frustration he almost shouted at the horse, that was watching him cautiously:

"And why are you staying here, like a beacon? If I saw you, anyone else will even sooner! Just hide yourself!"

To his surprise, the horse obeyed, moving into the shadows of the stones.

To gain some time, Garcia at first dressed the pistol wound to stop the bleeding. No one, even Monastario, could reproach him for taking care of the... prisoner's wounds.

When he finished, he looked at the masked face of the bandit. He was so curious, so irresistibly curious... Just one move and he would see the face of the most mysterious man in whole California! And yet, he didn't dare. The outlaw made so much to protect his identity, revealing it now, when he lied unconscious and couldn't defend himself anymore, seemed very wrong.

_But I just cannot give the Monastario satisfaction to be the first one who did it... And if I know him, I could warn his family... _reasoned the sergeant and, having convinced himself, reached for the mask.

In that moment, Zorro slightly moved his head and moaned. Garcia quickly withdrew the hand, even now frightened of the black rider.

"Senor?..." he asked cautiously, but the bandit didn't respond. The sergeant noticed that his lips are very dry, so he took his water bottle and, gently raising the head of the wounded man, bent it to his mouth.

The Fox drank the water gladly. It must have helped him, as he opened his eyes and looked at Garcia with hazy eyes. Although half-conscious, he recognized him:

"Sergeant..." he whispered with difficulty, yet trying to smile, "it seems it is your lucky day... I told you it will come..."

"It is all right... Do not loose your strength for speaking, Senor," said softly Garcia, touching his face, to check if the bandit is fevering. However, the masked man continued, more and more deliriously:

"Tornado... If they let you keep him... I will tell him to listen to you..." he shivered and finished, closing his eyes: "You were always... fond of him..."

"Senor... could you ride?" asked desperately the sergeant, yet the masked man was unconscious again and looking at him, Garcia realized how absurd his question was.

I have to do something, thought the sergeant with fear. For a moment, when Zorro was awake, he felt better, as if hoping that the Fox will solve the problem for them both somehow. Now he was again alone in the darkness, with the decision to be taken.

Just to delay it, he reached once again for the mask.


	5. Faith

**Faith**

Benito urged his horse, to keep up with Don Alejandro. The old man was quite far ahead of them, rushing through the darkness, smoothly leaning on the horseback on the turns of the road. Benito looked at him with admiration and a little jealousy – Don Alejandro was the best rider he had ever seen in his life. None of the young caballeros could equal him.

With such speed, they soon reached the meeting point settled with Sergeant Garcia. The sergeant was waiting there, sitting on the stone with his hand folded and shaking in the cold air.

"Sergeant! Have you found him?" shouted Don Alejandro. Benito thought that he should do better to hide anxiety in his voice, otherwise their intentions would be obvious.

But the sergeant didn't notice it, only jumped and looked at them with sudden panic.

"No, no! No, Don Alejandro, what makes you think so?" he mumbled.

"Because you are not searching for him, only calmly sitting here and probably napping," hissed Don Alejandro.

"My soldiers are searching for him. I waited for you, Senor, to point you the direction," explained Garcia, looking very hurt and indignant.

Benito couldn't help but smile. It was obvious that the sergeant sent his soldiers into the night and eagerly used the occasion for the little doze. Oh, that man was so easy to see through.

"So, what is that direction?" asked Don Alejandro with irritation, his tone of voice clearly indicating that he finds the idea of taking orders from Sergeant Garcia just ridiculous.

"That way, just behind the slope. My soldiers are searching the upper part, so you could start here and head north," the sergeant waved his hand pointing the direction and added, "As you are informed, I will go my way. I mean, on my search."

Don Alejandro only shook his shoulders and moved the horse in the pointed direction, followed by his vaqueros. When Benito was passing by the sergeant, he noticed something so strange in his face that it almost made him fell from horse.

It was compassion.

The idea that anyone, especially Garcia, could look with compassion on Don Alejandro de la Vega was incredible. Benito glanced at the sergeant once more, but the fat man already turned back and headed it the opposite direction.

* * *

Benito always could see in the darkness a little better than his friends – probably another part of the inheritance of his ancestors. This time, he was first to notice the horse. That horse, so black, that his shape almost poured with the night.

He dismounted quickly and, noticing the black body lying behind the horse, approached it, cautiously passing by the animal.

"Patron, here!" he whispered, waving for Don Alejandro.

"Dead?" asked only the old man, holding his breath.

"No. Only stunned. Concussion, I think. He must have fallen down the slope," explained Benito, checking the pulse of the unconscious man.

"Good," he heard Don Alejandro sighing with relief. "We will take him to the hacienda. Put on him something colorful, the blanket maybe, in case the soldiers see us."

Benito gently removed the black cape and wrapped the body in the blanket he worn under the saddle, trying to cover us much of the black disguise as he could. It wouldn't help much if someone get near, but it should be enough if the lancers would see them from distance.

He dragged the Fox on the saddle and mounted behind him. The black horse neared and snorted.

"We cannot take you," whispered Benito. "Go home. Your master will be safe with us, go home!"

He looked startled when the black animal disappeared silently in the darkness like a ghost.

In the meantime, Don Alejandro leaned from the saddle and reached for the black cape. Then he started to shake off the dust from it, a bit too long and too precise, until no speck was left on it. Finally he carefully folded the black material and hid it under the saddle. Benito saw that the hands of the old man were shaking, yet his voice was strong as usual, when he commanded:

"Benito and I will return to the hacienda. You stay here and continue. If the sergeant asks about us, tell him we got the message that our presence is needed in the rancho."

* * *

Bernardo ordered the cave, then the small room at the end of the hidden passage, finally tidying his master's already tidy room. When he was finished, there was nothing else left to do, but wait.

The escapade went according to the plan. He got the easier part, as usual. Diego lured the lancers outside the pueblo, Bernardo had only to sneak to the _cuartel_, stun the last guard and break into the cells. For the man of his skills - and past - it was an easy task. He took the natives to the hacienda – borrowing a few lancers' horses – and hid them just in front of it with the note to Don Alejandro. They already trusted the man in the black disguise, so they followed him without objections. When he made sure that Don Alejandro took care about the natives just as Diego predicted, his task was finished.

Now he could only sit and wait for Diego's return.

On the second thought, it was not the easier part.

Diego should have been back a long time ago, and with each minute Bernardo's fear grew. The young man let the lancers to get so near to him. What if they catch him this time?

Bernardo saw once the world through the gallows' loop, and prayed that Diego would never get to know this feeling.

He shook at these reminiscences. Bernardo was a man of many talents and many adventures, yet once his leg slipped, it slipped so badly, that he was he was sure his life would end exactly then and there, on that winter's morning before the small tavern in France.

As a mute, he could say nothing nor call for help; he only threw one pleading glance, when he noticed that the young man who just arrived at the tavern's yard was Spaniard too.

Later, Bernardo got to know that the young caballero had never before offended the law in any way, yet on that morning, after one pleading glance, he engaged himself in a very lawless and violent action with unsettling ease.

_He may not have my expertise, but definitely disposes of a great inborn talent,_ Bernardo thought later with amusement, when they were sneaking through the side tracks to the Spanish border.

Anyway, it was only the French law they offended.

Bernardo didn't like France anyway..

Ever since that day they kept together. Bernardo just loved the merry, adventurous gentleman and followed him to this dusty land at the end of the world without hesitation. However, he had the feeling that only here he learnt who his friend really was. Only when he saw him playing his game, talking cheerfully – still in the black shirt under the night robe - with Capitan Monastario, a few minutes after they crossed the blades, did he realize that Diego is not just a roguish boy, but the most dangerous man he ever met.

His memories were disturbed by the noises from the patio. Bernardo listened anxiously to the talk between Don Alejandro and Sergeant Garcia. No, it didn't trouble him that the lancers were still searching for Zorro; it was very much like Monastario to send his men on a senseless chase. The question was why Diego didn't come back when the soldiers lost his trail and returned to the pueblo.

_Something wrong must have happened_, thought Bernardo and stirred anxiously around the room. He was scared, very scared. Everyone makes mistakes, Diego too. What if he was dead already, only soldiers didn't find his body? Fear almost knocked him down.

For a moment, he thought about taking a horse and going for a search himself, but he realized how senseless and reckless it would be.

There was nothing he could do but wait. No, it was not the easier part.

When Don Alejandro and Benito arrived at the patio carrying the black, limp body, Bernardo rushed to them forgetting all caution. _He cannot be dead, he cannot, otherwise they wouldn't be carrying him so gently, _he repeated to himself running, yet not until he touched Diego's hand and felt his pulse, did he take a deeper breath and compose himself a little.

"Bernardo, good that you are here. Diego is back too?" asked quietly Don Alejandro but when he met the blank gaze of the servant, he only waved his hand.

They laid the wounded man on the couch in the sala. Bernardo put some cushion under his head and hectically tried to find and examine injuries.

Don Alejandro lit only one candle.

"Let's do not make too much light here. Now, Benito, you will return to the lancers, see how they are proceeding, if they found any trace that could lead them here... Then recall somehow our men. And say to them, that if they utter a word about what they saw here, I will be in big troubles."

In spite of his anxiety, Bernardo almost smiled hearing this. The old Don certainly had the way with people! He didn't say "we" only "I will be in trouble", knowing that the loyalty will oblige his men much stronger than fear.

Don Alejandro continued:

"I will fetch Doctor Hernandez, as discreetly as I will be able to. And you, Bernardo, see to his wounds right now. But do not touch that mask. We will take it off only if..." he interrupted, when Bernardo didn't raise his head in his direction. "I keep forgetting, he does not hear..." he sighed, then shook Bernardo's arm, and, having caught servant's attention, started to sign, pointing at the unconscious man, at the bandages he retrieved from the drawer and finally at the mask. Bernardo smiled in his thoughts. Don Alejandro was so awkward! If the servant was really deaf, he would have never understood him. Now however, he kept the serious expression and nodded a few times, signing that he will carry the orders.

As soon as the other men left and Bernardo started to examine his friend more carefully, Diego opened his eyes.

"I have been conscious... for some time," he whispered. "I just didn't want to speak... to them... my voice... too near."

Bernardo nodded and started to change the hasty dressing on Diego's arm, but the young man moved him aside.

"Help me to my room," he said a bit stronger and when Bernardo looked at him with silent question, explained:

"Zorro disappears, Diego is back."

Bernardo quickly imitated the face of Doctor Hernandez, but Diego shook his head:

"No need for doctor. I just have to sleep it off."

Diego tried to stand, but Bernardo with hesitation pointed at the direction of Don Alejandro's room and made a gesture as if removing from his face an invisible mask.

Could there be a better occasion to reveal to the old Don the true face of his son?

But Diego said only: "No," and Bernardo knew better than to argue with him. _One could suspect he took it as a point of honor to make his father think low of him_, he only nagged in his mind. And yet – some small part of him was content. Deep in his soul Bernardo was always very satisfied that he was the only man to whom Diego confided his secret.

He led – well, almost dragged – Diego to his room and helped him to change. When the young man was finally in bed and Bernardo wanted to blow out the candle, Diego raised his head from the pillow and said quietly:

"I have no luck tonight... Just in case... if the lancers somehow come for me... you know what to do? Mexico. Immediately."

Bernardo nodded in agreement, but he did it only to calm his friend. Diego instructed him thousand times, what to do if the Zorro's secret was to be revealed and took every precaution to secure Bernardo's future. However, if the lancers were to come for Diego, leaving to Mexico, or anywhere else, was the last think he intended to do.

"Good," sighed Diego, resting his head on the pillow. "Now I have to sleep. Just tell him... something to leave me in peace for a few hours... Tell him..." he didn't finish the sentence only fall asleep, leaving for Bernardo the task of finding the suitable explanation for Don Alejandro.

* * *

Right now, however, it was not Diego, but Zorro, who bothered Don Alejandro's thoughts. When he returned with Doctor Hernandez and saw Bernardo sitting on the empty couch, he stiffened and almost shouted:

"Where is he?"

That question was so obvious that Bernardo decided to reply without tormenting Don Alejandro with making him sign. He waved in the direction of the window and then imitated the ride on horseback.

"Left? In his condition?" asked incredulously Don Alejandro, looking at the doctor, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not impossible, for a young, strong man. He apparently got over the concussion and left, to protect his identity..."

"I would never..." bridled Don Alejandro, but than only sighed: "Well, anyway, in such situation we may not need your service, Doctor, but I definitely need a company of a friend. Perhaps I might invite you... hm, it will dawn soon, I do not know what to offer you, Doctor, wine or breakfast?"

"A sip of wine wouldn't do any harm at any time," smiled the doctor and Don Alejandro took the glasses from the cupboard. Suddenly he stopped:

"Perhaps I will wake up Diego and ask him to join us? I would like to tell him about it all. Bernardo, Diego is sleeping?"

Bernardo stood still, desperately trying to find some credulous explanation, while Don Alejandro cursed quietly once again, "I keep forgetting," and tried to sign his question. When the servant couldn't pretend any longer that he does not understand, he started to sign, almost hating himself for what he was doing. He raised his palm, coiled to indicate a mug to his mouth and pretended he was drinking. Then, with a knowing smile, he rubbed his temple, as by the headache and finally folded two hands by his cheek, signing the sleep.

Don Alejandro turned red:

"So, those are his 'other obligations'? I want him here right now!" He almost rushed up the stairs to Diego's room, when Bernardo stopped him, signing that the talk with Diego would be rather impossible right now.

"Calm yourself, my friend," Doctor Hernandez put his hand on Don Alejandro's shoulder. "Haven't you ever been young?"

"When I was young, I never..." started angrily Don Alejandro, but when the doctor raised his eyebrows, finished much calmer: "Well, anyway, I have always been able to ride to the rancho on the next day."

"And so will your son. Just let him sleep for a few hours," the doctor smiled, took the wine and headed to the patio. Already in the doors he stopped and turned to Bernardo: "Or maybe I should examine Diego, while I am already here?" he asked, pointing at his medicine bag and on the stairs to Diego's room.

Bernardo quickly shook his head, smiling and waving his hand, so the doctor left to the patio and sat with Don Alejandro by the small table.

Bernardo finally let his smile fade and sat on the stairs, wiping the sweat from his temple. No, it definitely was not the easier part.

* * *

Bernardo kept watch for Diego for the rest of the night and almost the whole day, leaving the room only to bring him something to eat and to drink. It was the late afternoon, when finally Don Alejandro knocked at the door.

"Diego? Enough of this sleeping! Get up, I need to talk to you!"

Bernardo swirled anxiously around, but Diego slowly clambered out of bed.

"It is all right, I can talk to him," he calmed Bernardo, putting on his robe.

Don Alejandro was already knocking at the door for the second time – much stronger – when Diego let him in.

"I am sorry, Father, I feel rather badly today. What I can do for you?"

It was obvious that Don Alejandro intended to tell something very unpleasant, but when he saw son, his face suddenly changed:

"Diego! You look like your own ghost! What has happened?" he asked with concern.

The young man rubbed his temple and lowered his head looking ashamed:

"Well, I visited some friends and... how to say it, Father, I am afraid I drank a bit too much..." he looked cautiously at Don Alejandro through his eyelashes, but definitely that explanation was not sufficient. Bernardo could almost see how Diego is making up further part of the story. "On my way back, I felt from horse and I am a little bruised now."

The concern of Don Alejandro disappeared like a smoke in a windy day.

"When I was your age, I never... I always could return home! If you do not know how to drink, do not start! And if you do not know how to ride, do not sit on horseback!" he snorted angrily and added sharply: "Anyway, I want you to go with me to the _alcalde_. Get dressed. I will explain you everything in the meantime."

Having said that, Don Alejandro left, loudly slamming the doors.

Bernardo looked at his friend helplessly, but Diego only waved his hand.

"Do not worry, I feel quite well already. And we will take the carriage, I guess now I am allowed not to sit on horseback!" he smiled almost cheerfully. "Just do something with my arm, so that the dressing wouldn't be visible under the jacket."

Bernardo nodded and reached to the drawer in which they kept the bandages, when he felt, that Diego wanted to tell him something more. He threw a quick glance on the young man and noticed, that he suddenly became very serious.

"Bernardo," Diego started slowly, "there is something I didn't tell you about last night. I remember Sergeant Garcia."

Bernardo tensed and turned to his friend. The question he wanted to ask was so obvious that he didn't need to sign anything.

Diego hesitated.

"Well, he gave me some water... The next thing I remember is riding with my father and Benito to the hacienda... However... it is rather obvious... The sergeant finds me and then I finish so unexpectedly safe under the care of my own father... He must know, Bernardo."

Bernardo sat slowly by the side of the bed, his legs suddenly weak. Yet, Diego shook his head:

"Do not misjudge our sergeant, my friend. If he had decided to turn me over to Monastario, he would have done it earlier. I guess..." Diego suddenly stopped, sat on the chair and hid his face in his palms, "he just likes me," he finished faintly. Then he sighed, looked at Bernardo and confessed: "I just do not know how I will look him in the eyes again."


	6. Anger

**Anger**

"Baboso! You fat barrel! Your incompetence is enough to put you ten times before the firing squad!" yelled Monastario, kicking Sergeant Garcia from the high of his white horse. He has just returned with the lancers from the whole day escapade, "in search of Zorro". Monastario managed to get some sleep at night, so, early in the morning, soon after the soldiers returned from the night search, he took them again in the mountains "to look for trails in the daylight". To tell the truth, even Monastario didn't believe in the success of this third escapade, he just couldn't accept the fact, that Zorro has outwitted his carefully set trap once more. It was so near! For a moment last night Monastario was sure, that finally he would win, he would catch or kill the Fox, who ridiculed him for such a long time. And yet, the damn bandit got away once more. They found nothing. No Zorro, no tracks, not even spot of blood. Monastario must have admitted at last, that he was mistaken. The Fox was not wounded, only made it safely to his hiding, probably many hours ago. _Commandante_ had to wreck his frustration, so he made the lancers ride again and didn't let them rest even for a moment, shouting and urging them. Now, they looked really miserable, having spent so many hours in the saddles. Monastario felt dark satisfaction. However, it was not enough to quench his fury, so now he was yelling at the sergeant so loud, that his throat almost sore and the people on the plaza stood and watched the scene before the gate of the cuartel.

Monastario glanced menacingly at the onlookers and they quickly disappeared. He looked around the plaza. His plaza, in his pueblo. Many capitáns would complain on his place, for being appointed on the position in such small, dusty pueblo, but not Monastario. He was content. Here, with little effort, he could have the power, almost absolute power. That was what he wanted. People to fear him. To obey.

Finishing the inspection of the plaza he noticed both de la Vega's, father and son, sitting in the carriage quite near him. Don Alejandro was browsing through some papers, but his son fixed his eyes on Monastario and Garcia, winking and curling with each shout, each kick, just as if they were directed to him, not to the sergeant.

_Stupid weakling, see what I can do with your friend? _thought Monastario and almost smiled. He never liked the young Don. Well, Diego never openly opposed him, but the fact that he was Alejandro's son was reason enough. What is more, he was just... too outspoken, too ironic, too impertinent even. It is nice to show him who really is in power here.

Then, however, it came to his mind that he should check what Don Alejandro is up to this time. He finished with the sergeant, throwing him the last insult, dismounted and, pretending to check the stirrups, moved nearer to the de la Vega's carriage.

Unfortunately, Don Alejandro has already folded his papers and now he shook the arm of his son:

"Diego? Have you heard the word from what I was saying?" he asked with irritation.

"I am sorry, Father," replied absently his son, still gazing at the sergeant, who was now trying to tidy his downtrodden uniform.

"I will not repeat it. Let's go to the _alcalde_ now."

"I cannot. Right now I have to speak with Sergeant Garcia," came the quiet answer.

"Speak? Rather go to the tavern again," snorted the old Don. Monastario grinned. Maybe he didn't get to know anything about the de la Vega's plans, but whatever problems Don Alejandro was having with his son, for him it was more than pleasure to witness.

"That too, later, I hope," said Don Diego, and Monastario was struck by the sudden melancholy in his voice.

"No, Diego, haven't you learnt anything? We are going to the _alcalde_," Don Alejandro gathered the reins and wanted to move the carriage, but Don Diego stopped him.

"Not now, Father. Now I have to speak with the sergeant," although quiet, the young man sounded so decisive, that Monastario almost straightened and Don Alejandro didn't protest anymore.

Don Diego got off the carriage and stood in the shadow of the well. Monastario, seeing that the conversation between father and son is over, took the reins of his horse and headed for the cuartel.

Suddenly he stopped. Whatever bad might be said about the capitán, he was observant. _If Don Diego wants to speak with Garcia so badly, why doesn't he come up to the sergeant? _Monastario turned back.

Diego was leaning on the well, his hands folded, head lowered, glaring at the sergeant, who slowly finished cleaning his uniform and raised his head to look at the young man. Behind them, Don Alejandro stopped the carriage and observed the scene equally surprised.

For a moment they all – Monastario, Garcia and Don Alejandro - stood motionless, almost like in three corners of a triangle, with Diego just in the middle, quiet Diego leaning so casually on the well, yet strangely tensed and alert. His stillness suddenly brought to the capitán's mind the image of the hunting animal, laying in wait.

Finally Sergeant Garcia broke the spell and started to go slowly toward Diego. Monastario looked at him and was stunned, absolutely stunned by the expression on his face.

_He is fears him! That fat idiot fears Don Diego, more that he has ever feared me!_

It was just unbelievable. Monastario glared at them, shifting his eyes from one man to another. Don Diego just stood, waiting, until Garcia stopped in front of him. For a moment they both gazed into the ground in silence.

Diego was the first to speak.

"I am sorry, Sergeant," he said clearly and loud enough for Monastario to hear.

Garcia made some undefined gesture and mumbled something incomprehensible, finishing:

"I mean... Let's better do not discuss it now."

Diego threw quick glance around, passing an oblivious gaze by Monastario and nodded.

"There are some other things we could discuss... if you agree..." he asked almost shyly.

"Certainly! After all... there are some reasons to celebrate," Garcia's face brightened in his usual jovial expression.

Diego finally straightened and slowly smiled. The young man had rather serene nature and laughed quite often, but until now Monastario has never seen such cheerful smile by him.

Monastario shook his head looking at the two men heading for the tavern. What made him think that there was something unusual in that scene? Two drunkards just went to the tavern, so what? The only interesting thing was that he noticed some uncertainty in Diego's movements... Monastario always liked to be well informed, so as soon as he crossed the gate of the cuartel, he waved for his trusted lancer, who was instructed to keep an eye on the daily lives of the most significant citizens.

"Any accident at the de la Vega hacienda? Don Diego looks rather poorly today," he asked throwing to the lancer the reins of his horse.

The soldier smirked: "He took part in some drinking contest and fell from the horse on his way home. The old man made him quite a row, from what I heard."

Monastario grinned too. Really, that man fell from horse more often that was seen riding one.

He couldn't now understand this strange impression of Don Diego being the center of something very important. _Don Diego!_ He laughed. _The man who..._

The man who is never present when something important happens.

_Well, it is understandable_, he thought striding through the cuartel's yard to his quarters. The young Don should do anything to stay away from troubles. He did not know how to keep the blade, even to defend himself. _I could run him through in a second. _He should run away like a rabbit to his hole, or else..

Monastario closed the doors to his quarters and for a moment stood still, surprised by his own irritation.

_Why I am so furious at this man? He did nothing. He is nothing. _

When the answer came to him, he had to lean on the doors.

"Because I have never seen the fear in his eyes..." he whispered.


	7. Pride

**Pride**

Don Alejandro de la Vega straightened proudly and looked around the sala. Everything was just as it should be: his friends gathered in his hacienda sitting around the long table, his son just on his right hand, unusually for him vivid and interested. He smiled to Diego for a moment and took voice:

"My friends! I asked you to come here today to discuss the future of our community. Long enough we put up with the crime and injustice taking place just in front of our eyes. We have allowed that felonious scoundrel, that murderer to terrorize us and our families. And we have just stood aside, when the one, single man dared to throw the challenge and fought Monastario alone. Well, I think we cannot stay aside any longer."

"What do you propose, Don Alejandro?" asked Don Augustin, his eyes already lit with the battle fire.

Don Alejandro glanced at his son, the only one who didn't seem to be moved by his speech. Diego only looked at him a bit anxiously, but remained quiet.

"Not what you may suspect, my friend, considering my previous actions. I do not propose you the fight with the weapon in our hands. We have many other means at our disposal."

Don Alejandro waited for a moment, satisfied with the impression he made on his friends. Now everyone, including Diego, listened to him holding their breath with undivided attention. He pointed at the papers lying in front of him on the table and continued:

"I have prepared a complete report on all of Monastario's abuses and discussed them with the _alcalde_. In his – and my – opinion it is enough not only to remove him from his post, but also to put him in prison. I also prepared the official claim to the governor, demanding that Monastario be replaced and his crimes – trialed. If you sign it, I will ride to Monterey to present it to the governor. And – if it will be not enough, I decided to issue a personal suit against him. If he looses it, he would be ruined. The more of you follow my example, the better."

He didn't have to look at the gathered Dons to feel their full support. He also noticed Diego, relaxed and approving.

The world seemed perfect.

And exactly in this moment, when the first _haciendados_ started to rise to sign the petition, they heard the clutter of horses' hoofs and blue jackets of lancers filled the patio.

The Dons looked at themselves, confused and anxious. Diego with one swift gesture shoveled the documents from the table to the cupboard.

_The boy can think fast and act fast, when he wants,_ managed only to think Don Alejandro, until Monastario burst into the sala.

Don Alejandro turned to face him:

"You are not welcomed in my house, Capitán," he said fiercely.

Monastario only smirked and shrugged his shoulders, though he was curiously looking around the sala:

"I didn't come here to pay you a visit, Don Alejandro. I didn't suspect I will interrupt such... interesting gathering, whatever may be its purpose. I am here to fulfill my duties."

"What kind of duties?" asked sharply Don Alejandro. As for Monastario, he was unusually polite. It didn't bode well.

"To protect the safety and order of the pueblo and its citizens. To protect you from bandits and law-breakers."

"You suggest that there are bandits among us?" asked Don Augustin, getting red with anger.

"Only one, from what I know" replied calmly Monastario, evidently savoring the moment.

"So please, name him," said Don Alejandro with a confidence he didn't feel. Monastario was too content, almost exhilarated. He must have had some ace in his sleeve. Don Alejandro tried to exchange looks with Diego, but his son sat with his head lowered, fully occupied with studying the carvings on the wine glass he was keeping.

"Gladly. But, before I do it, may I ask one question? Even if it is not a social visit?" Monastario grinned with mocking politeness.

Don Alejandro didn't bother to answer, only waved his hand in agreement, surprised, when Monastario for the first time during that conversation turned to Diego and asked:

"Tell me, Don Diego, you attended military school for three years, did you not?"

"Si," replied calmly Diego.

Diego didn't seem to be especially interested, neither in Monastario's presence nor in his question, yet while replying he corrected his perfectly smooth hair behind the ear. That simple gesture made Alejandro's anxiety grow – Diego always did it when was embarrassed or confused.

Monastario continued in innocent voice, gazing intensely at Diego:

"And during those three years they didn't teach you even how to keep the blade properly?"

"I didn't particularly appreciate that part of training," replied obliviously Diego, shrugging his shoulders, but Alejandro jumped and hit the table with his fist:

"Capitán! You allow yourself too much coming here in the company of lancers and insulting us!" he almost shouted, fighting to control his anger.

"Sit down, Father!" Diego raised his hand calmingly, while Monastario turned to the old Don with mocked astonishment:

"Oh, but your son doesn't seem to be insulted, Don Alejandro. Just look at him. He is – curious, amused, a bit bored, maybe – but not insulted. Or scared. You are never scared, Don Diego," he looked again at Diego.

Alejandro saw that Diego almost raised his hand to his ear again, but this time managed to control this gesture.

"I will take it as a compliment, _commandante_," he replied with unbroken peace, "but it would be welcomed, if you could clarify a direction of your thoughts a little."

"Yes, Monastario," snarled Don Alejandro sitting down. "Say something understandable or leave."

Monastario nodded.

"All right. I hope, Don Alejandro, you will find it understandable enough. Don Diego de la Vega – I accuse you of conspiracy, assaulting government officials and treason."

Dead silence fell upon the sala. Neither of the gathered men, not even Alejandro, was able to say anything, as they were trying to gather their thoughts.

In the silence clearly sounded the amusement in Diego's voice:

"Well, well, and how did I manage to do all that?"

Monastario leaned over him and hissed:

"You had busy nights."

Diego didn't move. Alejandro noticed that he avoided eye contact with _commandante_. He avoided eye contact with anyone. The cold shiver ran through the old man. Was it possible that there was a grain of truth in these accusations?

"You seem to fancy riddles today, Capitán," said Diego ironically after a moment.

"I thought you will appreciate it. Aren't you the master of the riddles... and masquerades, Senor... Zorro."

When Monastario said it, after the moment of shocked silence, the gathered Don's, including Diego, burst into laughing, looking at the _commandante_ with disdain. If that was the reason for his accusations... well, he just compromised himself again.

Alejandro tried to force a smile on his face too, yet couldn't. He sat near enough to Diego to notice that his son didn't shiver or even wink with surprise after Monastario's accusation. Only before he started to laugh, he closed his eyes for a moment and took deep breath, like a man that is about to drown. Yes, Diego was not surprised. He was worried.

Monastario seemed to be unmoved by the laughters, but Alejandro knew that they must irritate him. The _commandante_ hated to be ridiculed. He turned to Diego, not paying attention to the other men in the sala.

"Is it that funny, indeed? So how can you explain the fact that Zorro made his first appearance just after your return from Spain?"

"I do not know, he never confided to me," Diego shrugged his shoulders. He was perfectly in control right now. Just as Monastario said: he seemed amused and bored. But not scared. _He should be scared_, thought desperately Don Alejandro. _Any__ unfairly accused man should be scared. _

And Diego didn't even stand up from his chair. He was sitting comfortably, with casually folded arms and looked up at Monastario with indulgence.

Monastario slowly was loosing his shammed calm and, circling around Diego's chair, spoke with more and more fury:

"But you must know, Don Diego, why you are never present when Zorro attacks? And just do not say that you try to stay away from troubles! You even missed the trial of you own father!"

"That certainly makes me ungrateful, but is hardly the reason for arrest," noticed Diego obliviously, but the Dons exchanged confused glances. Alejandro could see how the first shadows of doubts appear in their eyes. He felt irritation – he had the right to be angry at his son for his strange absence, but he certainly didn't want Monastario to use it as a proof against him. However, he had no chance to interrupt him, as Monastario continued with malicious fire in his eyes:

"Oh, you are not that ungrateful, Don Diego! You made quite an effort to help your father, when he was justly accused of the rebellion! To protect him when he was wounded, you made my soldiers that had to guard you so drunk that they hardly could see one another!

"Have you put it in an official report? That your lancers were blind drunk?" Diego seemed to be sincerely curious.

"It is no concern of yours!" shouted Monastario. "And you missed the trial, because _el Zorro _was busy with disturbing the righteous judge in performing his duties!"

"Oh – that night when you sent Sergeant Garcia to delay the arrival of the judge, so that you could sentence my father to death?" asked Diego innocently.

"So, you suddenly remember! The very same, Don Diego! And just do not tell me that you do not possess Zorro's skills! I saw you fighting Carlos Martinez just in front of my eyes! Strange that he bested me, but you, though fighting so awkwardly, managed to disarm him?"

"Carlos Martinez! The one that resurrected so mysteriously from the grave you put him in? When he stole the Crown of Jewels from the mission at your order?"

"Exactly, so you remember that too!" Monastario looked triumphantly around and seeing the faces of the gathered Dons, suddenly realized what he said. "No, I mean: no! Of course not!"

The men in the sala exchanged malicious smirks, enjoying Monastario being so easily manipulated to openly avow his mean tricks, yet Alejandro wasn't laughing. He swallowed hard, trying to catch a breath. There was only one thought in his mind: _How could Diego know it all, if he weren't the Fox?_

Monastario took a few deep breaths and gathered himself surprisingly quick. He folded his hands too and looked at Diego almost calmly, though with obvious hate.

"Very nice show. The last one. You are under arrest," he said simply.

_He mocked Monastario once again, as the Fox did it so many times. As he did it so many times. The good-by show_, thought Don Alejandro blankly.

And indeed the show was over. The amusement in the sala soon faded, the gathered men looked at themselves anxiously. "You cannot possibly arrest him based only on your premonitions," said one of the Dons uncertainly, but Monastario only snorted.

It was over.

For the first time during that confrontation, Diego raised eyes on his father, and Don Alejandro was stunned by the wave of fear. He saw such glance once, in the eyes of his wife, when they both get to know she was going to die. She looked at him then with the heart-breaking apology, as if it was her fault that she will leave him alone in mourning...

Now the same sad apology was in Diego's eyes.

Memory can play vicious trick. Alejandro suddenly reminded himself the words he threw once into his son's face: _Sometimes it is better to die, than to live as a coward..._

_I take it back, God, please I take it back,_ he thought panicked. _I want the son who is coward, but alive!_

His despair must have been visible on his face, because Diego smiled to him warmly and winked, as if he wanted to hearten him. Then Diego closed his eyes once more, taking another deep breath, and when he opened them again, he wasn't looking at Don Alejandro anymore, only on Monastario. He was smiling again, but this time it was the smile no one has seen him on him before: sneering, perilous and proud.

"_Mi Capit__á__n..."_ he started mockingly, finally rising and Alejandro almost wanted to cover his ears, so that he wouldn't hear what his son was going to say. The confession confirming that the father's dreams were true and he can be proud of his son. The confession meaning the death of his child.

However, Monastario misunderstood Diego's gesture and interrupted him growling:

"Just spare me your idle excuses, de la Vega! I have all the evidence against you I need! Just listen!" With these words he unrolled a pile of papers and started to read the list of accusations, very detailed and precise.

Diego closed his mouth and stepped back a little, looking around the sala with raised eyebrows, as if he was saying: 'I apologize for him', when something behind Don Alejandro drew his attention.

The old Don turned quickly back and saw Bernardo, staying on the stairs and hectically signing something. Diego narrowed the eyes and tried to follow the signs, but he soon shook his head helplessly– even he couldn't understand what his servant meant.

Bernardo looked desperately around, finally pressed one finger to his the mouth, signing silence. Then he showed the clock – and then smiled and raised calmingly his hands. _He is asking him to wait for something, _realized Don Alejandro.

Diego nodded and lowered his head for a moment. When he raised it, the grasping expression disappeared from his face, giving place to the insulted innocence. Alejandro could only admire how quickly his son changed his masks.

"Forgive me, _commandante_," Diego said politely as usual, "but I am afraid I have lost the thread. Would you mind repeating it from the beginning?"

However, Monastario was not going to be ridiculed again.

"I will repeat it tonight," he hissed to Diego with hate, "when you will be standing on the gallows."

Having heard that, Don Alejandro felt the fury take over him. Not the usual de la Vega temper, but white, cold fury he never felt before. Not fully aware what he was doing, he stood up and looked straight at Monastario:

"I swear to you for all that's holy, that if you kill my child there will be no place for you in this world to hide before me."

There was something in his voice that made all the Dons sit still and motionless, even Diego finally kept quiet. Monastario couldn't help stepping back a little. He breathed loudly for a moment until he finally shouted:

"Lancers!" and when a few soldiers rushed into the sala, he pointed at Diego and ordered: "Take him to the cuartel."

Yet, before they managed to carry the order, through the open doors ran Sergeant Garcia, red and breathless:

"_Commandante!" _he shouted quickly, then noticed Don Diego surrounded by lancers in front of Monastario and gasped with fear.

"What is it? I asked you to stay at the cuartel, did I not?" gnarled Monastario and the sergeant gathered himself:

"Si, _commandante_, but the messenger has arrived... The viceroy is coming to Los Angeles, he will be at the pueblo in no more than an hour!"

"What?" exclaimed Monastario surprised. "But how?... Why? I didn't know... I didn't hear about..."

"Perhaps he heard about you," sounded joyful voice just behind Monastario's back.

Diego evidently relaxed and looked at the _commandante_ cheerful and calm as usual. _The __viceroy is his friend, he studied with his son,_ remembered Don Alejandro with the small spark of hope.

Monastario looked at Diego a bit unconsciously and suddenly his face beamed:

"You! Good, just in time. You will be the main point of the evening, the final proof of my abilities to maintain the peace and order. Lancers! Garcia! Take him to the cuartel, but keep an eye on him all the time! If he runs away, I will personally hang you all in his place!"

Diego only shrugged his shoulders once again:

"As you wish, _Commandante_. I am sure it will be a night to remember. I wouldn't like to miss it anyway."

Having said that, he winked to the scared Sergeant Garcia and waved for the lancers. Don Alejandro wanted to approach him, but it only drew the attention of the _commandante, _who immediately blocked his way. Looking at his face, the old man understood, that now Monastario would make him pay for the fear Don Alejandro aroused in him few minutes ago.

"You, Don Alejandro, you are under the house arrest. You will remain in the hacienda, under guard. But do not worry, I will send for you just before the execution of your son. You will be on time to see it," Monastario grinned. Alejandro moved toward him with clenched fists, but Diego quickly touched his arm, saying merrily:

"Stay calm and wait, Father, everything is going to be just fine."

Alejandro slowly sat down and followed him with his eyes as long as he could, thinking that whatever happens tonight, calm would be the last thing he is going to feel for a very long time.

* * *

_Just one explanation: the last chapter begins after Diego managed to convince viceroy that he is innocent, just as he did it in the episode "The fall of Monastario". For these, who didn't watch it, it is enough to say, that Diego kept the cool blood, denied all accusations and proved that Monastario has no real evidence against him. As the result, Diego was acquitted from all charges, Monastario - imprisoned and Sergeant Garcia became acting-commandante... :)_


	8. Quiet

**Quiet**

"Gracias, Don Augustin. I never doubted the viceroy's judgment," said Diego with a smile bowing to the old Don.

It was good he was so used to smiling. He thought, he would go mad if one more person approaches him saying, "I knew, Don Diego, that you couldn't possibly be that Zorro!"

Getting out of troubles this time was easier than in seemed at first. The viceroy was a wise and just man, he soon understood that Monastario had no real evidence against Diego, except from his premonitions. The viceroy would never convict Diego on such grounds, even if he wasn't Diego's old friend – and it happened so, that he was and it meant that he was much more willing to believe his word than the accusations of the _commandante_. The decisive proof was the appearance of Zorro, who rode through the plaza, just under the nose of all the lancers. Of course it was Bernardo, but only Diego knew it.

So now, Diego, free and innocent, with a cheerful smile, was receiving the congratulations from the people gathered at the meeting that Monastario planned to be his execution. Strange, he should be happy – he was alive and cleared of all suspicions, a scenario that was very unlikely in the morning. Monastario was relieved of duty and imprisoned. _I achieved what I fought for, _crossed through his mind. Yet, behind his smile Diego felt no joy. He felt... nothing.

"Don Diego! I knew from the beginning that these accusations against you were just ridiculous!"

"Gracias, Don Fernando. All's well, that ends well," he replied smiling.

Diego looked around – the tavern was almost empty. Now he only had to shake once more the viceroy's hand and say the last compliment to his daughter. At least that was not difficult – the girl was very, very pretty.

When he finally left the tavern, Diego didn't set off home at once, only stopped near his horse. He rubbed absently his wounded arm, still a little sore, finally allowing himself for a grimace of pain. _If __I__ were Monastario, __I__ wouldn't forget about it. Then it wouldn't be so easy to delude the viceroy, _Diego thought obliviously. _However, commandante has no head for details. And in the long-time perspective the details are... decisive..." _

For a moment he stood motionless in the darkness, enjoying the silence. It was so quiet. He was alone, at last he was alone. Out of the circle of his friends and foes.

_Now I can take off all my masks and be myself_, he thought. _Only that..._

Diego shook his head, moving aside all strange reflections and slowly mounted his horse. He rode to the hacienda alone – Bernardo went home much earlier, with Sergeant Garcia, who wanted to let Don Alejandro know about the happy ending of the evening and call off the lancers from the hacienda.

"It is a happy ending," whispered Diego to himself. "I won, there is no need for the Fox anymore. I am free. I can be myself."

And yet, he still felt nothing.

Just behind the pueblo, Tornado appeared out of the shadows and started to throttle calmly by his side. Diego smiled:

"Now, my friend, we only have to find some way to accommodate you in the stables. Perhaps the last gift of Zorro to his friend, Don Alejandro? I will think of something."

It was over and the result was exactly as he wished. So why did he suddenly feel so... despondent?

He wasn't tired. No. The day has been long and difficult, yet the night was still young. Diego was used to difficult days and even more difficult nights. He wasn't worried about the confession, he would have to make to his father after the return, now, when there were no more reasons to hide the truth before him. Don Alejandro will surely hug him, then yell at him for lying and for being reckless, then for being a reckless liar and then he will hug him again. Finally he will even understand.

_Maybe I am sorry for Monastario? _Diego though a bit ironically. _No. Definitely no._

It was over. From now on, he won't have to lie to the people he loved. He will slowly gain the respect and position in the community, behaving as for the member of the noble family befits. He will sleep at night. He won't be chased anymore. He will fight only in honorable duels. He will not wear the mask again.

And that was exactly why he was feeling so despondent.

_But it is over. We got rid of Monastario and the new commandante arrives in a few weeks. The Fox has no reason to ride. I can be myself, I can be a lion if I want to._

The new _commandante_. Interesting, what kind of man he will be.

Of course he will be a good man. The viceroy spoke about him with respect, and Diego had no reasons to doubt his judgment. And yet... It would be good to make sure. Just in case...

Oh. There was still money stolen from the mission to be found.

"Tornado, my friend," he patted the back of the horse running by his side, "I am afraid you are not moving to the stables."

He was not a lion. He was a fox.

"I will be myself," whispered Diego and finally smiled, though no one was seeing him.

* * *

_The end_


End file.
