FicWad

Unlike most of the time, Diego got up early on the following morning. He couldn't sleep anymore, anyway: too many things turning endlessly in his mind...

First things first, he needed to have a serious conversation with Felipe.

But the young man seemed to have sensed it and was already gone.

"He said he wanted to go to the church," the housekeeper informed him.

To the church?

Oh, yes, Diego suddenly understood: Felipe was worried. There has always been a special bond between them, ever since Diego found him alone and orphaned on a battlefield, and it became even stronger since Diego came back from Spain. A bond which was somewhere halfway between 'father-son' and 'big brother-little brother'. But with a natural child now turning up in Los Angeles the boy probably feared a different turn in this special bond. And he might also be a bit jealous. He was worrying for himself. Worrying that he might have lost his place in favour of a little girl. Worrying about his future, afraid that the nature of his relationship with Diego would change.

Oh, dear, how little he knows me if he thinks anything can change that!

Yes, Diego really needed to see him and have this conversation with him.

He'd also have to talk to Don Alejandro, preferably before the last news from the pueblo came to his ears.

Oh, and of course there was Victoria. What was she thinking right now? Her opinion on him wasn't probably very high, at the moment. He'd have to make things right here too.

Oh dear, what a fine mess he was in!

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"Yes, he was there," padre Benitez told Diego, "but he left a few minutes ago. He just lit a candle, kneeled and prayed. According to his gesture to me, I think he tried to tell me he wanted to be alone for some time."

"Gracias, Padre," Diego thanked him before heading for the exit.

"Don Diego!" the padre called him.

Diego stopped on his track and turned to the priest. He felt the padre wanted to say something but was struggling to find the right words.

"Have you talked to your father, today?"

"No I haven't seen him yet," Diego answered.

He had more than just an inkling of precisely what the padre expected him to confess to his father. Well, now that the word was probably all around the pueblo, it wasn't hard to guess. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Then you should go home now, Don Diego," padre Benitez advised him, "and talk with your father."

"Thank you Padre," he replied in a somewhat stiff voice, "but I must first find Felipe."

He bowed his head to take his leave and turned to the door.

"Go home, Diego," the padre simply told him before he stepped out of the church.

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Felipe wasn't in the Guardian's office, nor anywhere in the pueblo as it seemed.

Since he set foot on the plaza that morning, Diego had been on the receiving end of two opposite kinds of treatment: most of the women and half the men answered very coldly to his greetings, paying him nothing more than polite lip service, and turned their backs to him; the others – men, exclusively – sent large grins his way and some of them even discreetly patted him on the back in some sort of either brotherly or patronising manner, he couldn't tell.

But all had in common the fact that they were whispering between themselves on his way. When he walked out of the Guardian's it started again, and these attitudes were really beginning to grate on his nerves. But a public outburst was so very unlike Don Diego de la Vega's quiet and meek persona that he held himself in check, suck it up and valiantly endured it like a man.

He glanced sideways at the tavern. Victoria... she wasn't on the porch but certainly inside, working in her kitchen, and very possibly appalled at his shocking and scandalous misconduct. Appalled was the exact term she used, right? Well, he could understand her point of view: getting a young woman with child and not marrying her... Yes, he thought he could understand very well the general disapproval.

He felt a compelling need to talk to Victoria in order to set things straight with her. But he wisely knew better: rather not try to talk with an irritated and testy Victoria Escalante. He'd better wait until the afternoon, when she would have had time to calm down.

For now he had to find Felipe and talk to him, as well as to his father. Felipe, his father and Victoria: the three people whose opinion of him was the most important to his eyes.

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Felipe wasn't in his favourite fishing spot in the hills either. Finally, an idea came to Diego's mind; an idea so obvious that he felt stupid for not having thought of it earlier. Of course! The cave!

Relieved, Diego headed for the hacienda. With both his father and Felipe at home, he could kill two birds with one stone.

When he entered the hacienda, Diego saw his father come from the library.

"Ah, Diego, my son, I'm glad you're back. You were up early today... Is anything wrong? Are you unwell?"

Oh dear, how could being up and ready early be a sign of sickness? But anything unusual could be a sign that something was wrong, and getting up at sunrise certainly was deemed as unusual coming from Diego de la Vega.

"I'm all right, Father. Fit as a fiddle!"

Physically, at least.

Don Alejandro eyed him.

"Diego..." he began, "you know we..."

He paused.

"I know we're sometimes not spending much time together," he went on, "but... Fathers and sons shouldn't... I mean... they should be able to tell each other anything."

"I assure you I'm perfectly fine, Father! And as a matter of fact, I'm glad to find you here, I wanted to–"

But Don Alejandro interrupted him:

"I uh... Parents and children shouldn't have secrets for each other..."

Oh. Diego felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His father definitely knew something. But what exactly was he hinting at? At his very dangerous black and masked secret, or at the very recent but juiciest piece of news Los Angeles had had in months?

"Diego, I've been thinking a lot since Gil–" Don Alejandro's voice broke. He still had trouble saying this name, it always overwhelmed him with sadness. And as always, Diego felt for his father: losing a child, even one you didn't know you had, was inevitably very painful. Losing a brother was, too. Silently, he reached for his father's hand and pressed it lightly.

Don Alejandro gave him a grateful smile. Then he resumed talking:

"...ever since your brother's death... yes, I've been thinking a lot. And I came to the conclusion that you and I should be able to tell each other anything, without fear. With full trust and as a sign of goodwill."

Oh, Diego thought again. Yes, his father was benevolently but clearly inviting him to confess.

"Father, there's something you might... uh... I need to... I must say..."

"Diego," his father interrupted him again, "we're a family. We shouldn't have secrets for each other. Not anymore. That's why I wanted to..."

Then Don Alejandro seemed to slightly change his mind:

"No, that's not the way I should..."

He straightened, took his son by his elbow and gently guided him out of the sala toward the library.

The library! Alarmed, Diego thought of the secret panel behind the fireplace. Apparently, Don Alejandro had discovered the secret passageway. And therefore Zorro's lair. Hence this awkward speech.

Did he spot Felipe step through the fireplace, despite the young man's usual care and caution? Well, Diego reflected, our constant comings and goings through it couldn't go forever unnoticed, after all...

When they reached the corner and before they entered the library, his father told him:

"Diego, there's someone I want you to meet..."

Uh?

They entered the library. The first thing Diego saw in there was a pastel blue form on the sofa. The form rose: a woman, roughly his age, clad in a refined light blue satin dress. Before they entered she had been reading, but now she was absent-mindedly holding her book, or rather it was nearly hanging from her dangling arm. All her attention was focused on Diego.

She seemed a bit nervous but hid it very well. She set her book down on the side table and smiled at him. A slightly unsure little smile.

"Diego," Don Alejandro said, "may I introduce Señora Araceli Ximénez de Valdès."

The woman curtsied.

"Araceli, this is my son Diego."

Despite feeling a bit puzzled and confused, Diego still had the presence of mind to bow, if only out of habit.

"You see, Diego," his father told him, taking him by the elbows once again, "losing Gi– losing my son made me think a lot... about family..."

Diego looked at him. He wondered why his father thought fit to have a conversation on this subject in the presence of a perfect stranger like this woman. Oblivious to his son's reservations, Don Alejandro went on:

"I uh... I don't really know how to... well, talking has never really been my forte, I'm afraid."

Diego saw Señora Valdès suppress a smile.

"Perhaps..." she said, before pausing too, "perhaps there is someone else Don Diego should meet too before any further explanation...?"

"Yes," Don Alejandro said, "yes, you're right. Let's go to the guestrooms."

He led the way and a perplexed Diego obediently followed, Señora Valdès in tow. At the end of the corridor, Don Alejandro knocked on one door. When no one answered, he opened it.

Diego heard him gasp and he looked inside in turn: in the middle of half unpacked travel bags a woman he didn't know was crouching at the foot of the bed, gagged with a silk scarf and tied to the bedpost with ropes by her feet and her hands. There was a light graze on her neck and a trickle of blood was running from it.

In two steps, Señora Valdès was at her side. With shaking hands she untied the gag.

"Concepcion, are you all right?" she asked her while starting to work on the ropes.

"Oh... Señora... Señora!" the woman said, sobbing.

Then everyone started talking at the same time:

"What happened?"

"Are you all right?"

"Oh Dios, Señora, I'm so sorry!"

Diego swiftly untied her and helped her up.

"Oh my God, LEONOR!" Señora Valdès shouted.

"What happened?" Don Alejandro cried out. "Where is she?"

"Leonor! Leonor!" the señora called.

"Señora... Señora... I'm so sorry!" Concepcion repeated, shaking.

"Where is she?" Don Alejandro asked her again, looking alarmed.

Noticing the wide open window and the obvious signs of a struggle in the room, Diego was beginning to have an idea of what just happened there.

Breathing deeply, Concepcion calmed down a bit and was finally able to speak coherently:

"Two masked men... They entered through the window... They had weapons... pistols and swords and knives..."

She winced at the memory, raising her hand to the wound on her neck.

"I'm so sorry," she went on. "I tried, but I couldn't do anything. They took her. They said: 'tell Don Alejandro that he's to bring eight thousands pesos to Plata Canyon before sunset if he wants his daughter back and alive.' Oh, I'm so sorry Don Alejandro, Doña Araceli..."

Señora Valdès gasped, Don Alejandro turned white as a sheet, and Diego's mind was slowly processing the unexpected and shocking revelation combined with what had happened in this room. That was a lot to take in, but now was not the time to overthink things he couldn't do anything about, but rather to focus on those he might be able to actually do something about.

He set his gaze on his distraught father and on the equally distressed Señora. Two terrified parents, worried sick for their child.

But Don Alejandro being a de la Vega, he soon turned from deathly pale to bright red, clenched his fists and hurriedly got out of the guestroom. Diego heard him rummage through drawers, then he recognised the steely and unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn out of its scabbard.

Oh, no! Diego thought. In his current state of mind, all his father would achieve was to get himself killed, or the girl, or both...

No. This was a job for Zorro.