A/N: This takes place directly after 'Ultimate Justice' in which De Soto is rescued from Indians by none other than our favorite man in black. My interpretation of how the episode could have ended. I don't own FAM Zorro. Reviews are always appreciated!
Ultimate Justice Revisited:
Soon after the arrival of his lancers and Zorro's unfortunate disappearance, AlcaldeIgnacio De Soto found himself astride his new white stallion, following Sergeant Mendoza at a snail's pace back to the pueblo. The long trip gave the Alcalde some long awaited quiet time with his thoughts as long as he ignored Mendoza's prattling about supper. Shame at having to be rescued by his sworn enemy coiled through the white-haired man only to quickly turn to anger and bitterness. Using the logic that only he could comprehend at times, De Soto blamed his entire ordeal upon the Fox and swore his revenge.
Mendoza glanced back nervously as his superior's cackling, wheezing laugh became louder. He shook his big head, afraid of whatever plot had just embedded itself in the Alcalde's brain. Nothing good could come of it.
The following mid-morning, De Soto was wearing a trench in the floor of his office when he heard the unmistakable sound of three horses entering the plaza. Out of habit, he swept the curtains aside and took note of the visitors. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Who were you expecting Ignacio? Zorro? He admonished himself. That crazy bandit was most likely at home, wherever home was, with his feet up nursing his wounds. There was no way he would venture out into this heat as injured as he was.
The most affluent family in the Pueblo de Los Angeles rode up to the tavern on their way to dinner. Ignacio's curiosity is piqued as he notices Don Diego de la Vega wearing his collar closed as well as his jacket in the sweltering heat of the noonday sun. This ignited de Soto's suspicious nature like nothing else. Everyone else in the pueblo, Don Alejandro included, was in shirtsleeves. He watched as Diego stumbled dismounting his horse and visibly winced as Felipe caught the older man and pushed him upright. Alejandro took no notice of his son's mishap and continued into the tavern. Felipe signed something and Diego nodded his head before looping his long arm around Felipe's shoulders and following his father into the tavern. De Soto's sharp eyes noticed Diego very ginger movements as he walked.
Unsure of why the sight of the de la Vegas tickled his subconscious so, De Soto decided to take his noonday dinner in the tavern.
The dela Vegas rodeinto the pueblo shortly after 10 o'clock in the morning to seek shelter from the oppressive heat and refreshment at the tavern. Alejandro rodeahead of his son and his servant, anxious to get inside. The older don looked uncharacteristically disheveled, dressed only in his trousers and shirt—even his customary jacket and gloves were nowhere in sight.
"Don Alejandro! What brings you into town?" Victoria Escalante seemed genuinely surprised to see the older man. "It's too hot to be out riding around! Why aren't you at home?"
She quickly served him juice as he found a place in the relatively cool interior of the tavern. "Maria has the weekend free to visit her mother in Santa Barbara. Hopefully they are experiencing nicer weather."
"Well, it is always nice to see you Don Alejandro," Victoria flashed him a winning smile. "You too Don Diego. Felipe."
Diego flashed his secret love a tired smile and moved away from Felipe, towards the empty seat next to his father and Mendoza. As he lowered himself into the chair, hissing lightly through his teeth, Mendoza spoke up, "Don Diego! What happened to you!"
"I had an unfortunate encounter with my favorite horse yesterday." Diego took the ribbing that followed in good-nature.
Victoria had taken their orders and served juice when the Alcalde sauntered in. He requested juice from the homely girl behind the bar as he tries to surreptitiously spy on the de la Vegas. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity as Diego kept fussing with the leather riding gloves he wore as if they chafed him. Why wear the gloves if they are uncomfortable, Don Diego?The Alcalde mentally smirked.
As low key as he tried to be, even Victoria noticed his fidgeting. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear gloves before, Diego." He just shrugged with one shoulder and winced internally as the only excuse he could come up with was that the gloves were a gift and he felt he should make use of them lest he offend the giver.
Alejandro snorted at this—"I gave those to you several years ago. You've never worn them before now."
Diego shook his head then, trying to clear his suddenly blurry vision; his father puts his hand on his shoulder in concern. Even though he expected it, Diego couldn't quite bite back his quiet hiss of pain and the flinch that accompanied.
Felipe quickly gets Alejandro's attention and signs that Diego had wrenched his shoulder and bruised a few ribs when he fell. The older don glanced at his son in concern and not a little disdain at his son's clumsiness but kept his thoughts to himself. He quickly struck up a lively conversation with Mendoza to ease the awkwardness that had suddenly engulfed their small group.
De Soto prided himself in not visibly reacting in glee as he put two and two together. The Alcalde excused himself quietly—telling Victoria that he changed his mind and that he would take his lunch in his office, he had too much paperwork. Once in the safety of the office, he pulled out the book of Zorro sightings and spent the next hour cementing his crazy idea firmly into his head.
He chuckled and rubbed his beard. "With those injuries, Zorro would be unable to hold his whip let alone his saber. Now, if I don't give them time to leave…" The Alcalde was without regard that Zorro had saved his life—he only saw the 6,000 peso reward and his transfer back to Madrid as he began putting together a plan to flush Zorro out into the open once and for all.
A short time later, De Soto noticed with glee that the de la Vega horses are still at the tavern's posts; he ordered one of his lancers to drum up a crowd in the plaza while he had still more load their guns and follow him.
Like clockwork, a large crowd began to form and he is extraordinarily pleased that Alejandro and Victoria had dragged Diego with them to the front of the crowd. You won't have the opportunity to leave now will you? De Soto starts off his speech with an apology for pulling citizens away from their duties. He then explained that he had called the meeting because Zorro had saved his life and that he wanted to thank the masked bandit personally.
Standing in the dirt of the plaza, Diego found his good spirits waning as his body began to ache in earnest from lack of water and the heat. Hearing what was supposed to be a sincere comment from the Alcalde, Diego scoffed and muttered under his breath, "You had plenty of time to apologize yesterday Alcalde. What are you up to?" Victoria overheard the comment and stares at her friend in confusion but Diego quickly corrected himself, "I mean it sounds like he had plenty of time to apologize." He flashed Victoria a banal smile and returned his attention to De Soto only to find that the man had paused and was looking at him strangely. "What?"
"Heh. Always with your head in the clouds Don Diego! If you'd stop your pathetic pining over that tavern wench, you'd know what was going on." At the insult to Victoria, anger lanced through Diego's normally lackluster gaze, he stiffened and started to advance on De Soto. Felipe and Victoria each kept a hand on him to keep him from accosting the Alcalde and Victoria shook her head minutely at him.
"I do not 'pine'." Was his automatic retort and as soon as it came out of his mouth he wanted to slap himself. He really should have stayed in bed today—luck was not on his side today.
Victoria turned to him and says, "Well, what do you call it then?"
Diego began blustering at her frank comment but De Soto had already turned back to the crowd. "As I was saying, someone in this pueblo—nay in this very crowd—knows exactly who Zorro is." He stops his pacing at the edge of the crowd and spins around, "Do you have anything you'd like to share with us, Don Diego?" He drawled solicitously.
"Share? Me? What could I possibly have to share?" Diego made sure to keep the tone of his voice as high and affected and as bland as possible.
"Why, the identity of Zorro of course." He chuckled as Alejandro and Victoria both turned to look at Diego in unabashed surprise.
"You know the identity of Zorro?" she breathed.
"I never said anything of the sort, Victoria." He lied smoothly. "De Soto is just trying to get a rise out of anyone hoping that someone will slip."
"Oh but my dear, dear Diego—you didn't have to say anything. Your actions and clothing speak louder than words." Diego leveled De Soto with what he hoped to be a fairly benign gaze, "I think your encounter with the Indians has scrambled your brain, Ignacio."
Alejandro spoke up then, "Diego knows nothing of Zorro—he's a scientist, a painter and a poet!" De Soto smirked and continued as if nothing had been said. "Lancers! Aim into the crowd!" The lancers hesitantly followed their superior officer's orders. "If anyone so much as moves to leave, I will have them shot."
Diego inwardly groaned, there was no way to escape now, especially since he was standing in front of the crowd.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes. Yesterday, Indians took me hostage and were preparing to kill me when Zorro appeared—he's obviously in league with them, I thought. But then the most curious thing happened, Zorro offered up his life in exchange for my own. Stupid idiot—I knew that his heroic nature would eventually be his downfall."
Gasps echoed through the crowd. "He agreed to a series of tests. The first test involved him running through a crowd of Indian savages armed with sticks the width of my thumb," he held up his hand to make his point. "They brought those sticks down upon Zorro as if the wrath of God were at their backs. They beat him mercilessly until he made it through to the other side."
Tears had gathered in the eyes of many women as they realized the pain their hero must have undergone just to save the vile man before them. Truly Zorro was an honorable man, they thought.
"Oh that's not all—waiting at the end of this 'river of pain' was their fiercest warrior holding a long staff. He threw another at Zorro and advanced on the man before he could catch his breath. I thought for certain that Zorro was going to die!" It was a testament to De Soto's acting ability that he actually seemed frightened at the prospect of his enemy's death. "The odds were against him and they fought for a long time; it seemed Zorro was losing until he unleashed a series of attacks that sent that so-called warrior spinning off into the crowd. 'He had done it!' I thought. 'I'm free!' But alas, as I hung there, strung over a smoking fire as if a slab of beef, those treacherous Indians devised yet another task! It seemed that they did not want Zorro to pass their tests! They made him climb up the canyon wall just to the north of their camp."
The crowd gasped, drawn as they were into De Soto's tale. Diego had to admit that the man could tell a yarn like nobody's business. "Like the hero he thinks he is, Zorro tucked his gloves in his sash and began to climb." De Soto mimed the action.
Diego noticed that De Soto had conveniently left out the part where he had escaped and tried to hold the chief's daughter hostage. De Soto continued with his story, drawing more and more citizens into his tale. By this time, they had been standing in the sweltering sun for nearly an hour and Diego was beginning to feel lightheaded. He swayed dangerously on his feet and only quick thinking between Alejandro and Victoria kept him upright. The elder de la Vega glanced around for Felipe only to discover that the teen was nowhere to be found.
"Are you alright Son?" he whispered.
"I'll be fine—I think I'm just a little dehydrated that's all." Diego's sharp intake of breath indicated that he had not known that the Alcalde had finished his tale and had come to a stop in front of the two most affluent citizens of Los Angeles.
"Well, no wonder," he drawled. "It is a scorching day and you've got your jacket and those ridiculous leather gloves on. " The white-haired man smiled much like a shark Diego thought disconcertedly. "Take them off and I'm sure you'll feel much better."
This sent off warning bells in Diego's foggy mind and he hunted for a plausible excuse to leave them on. The Alcalde seemed to sense his dilemma and continued, "Unless…oh yes."
Sweat trickled from the nape of his neck down into his collar, making Diego aware of just how uncomfortable he was. He found himself coveting Zorro's loose, black shirt as his face flushed from the heat. He was so thirsty he could hardly think straight.
"You and your father rode into town today, which is not suspicious in and of itself however I found myself fascinated by your curious choice of attire. I asked myself, why would someone want to wear a full suit complete with cravat and leather riding gloves on this scorching hot day?"
At the Alcalde's words, the entire crowd seemed to take notice of Diego de la Vega. The tall, dark haired man groaned quietly. He suddenly knew what De Soto was up to and he only hoped that he'd survive the day.
"Zorro is in for a bit of a surprise today." De Soto's harsh, wheezy chuckle seemed to echo in the quiet that had descended over the plaza. "Come forward, de la Vega." De Soto's voice suddenly became menacing.
"Wait! I thought you said you were going to apologize to Zorro!" Victoria cried.
"I lied! Only a fool would save the life of his enemy! That bounty will be mine and I will be rid of this disgusting little hole you call a pueblo. I thought I told you to come up here de la Vega."
Diego had no choice but to comply as De Soto swung Corporal Sepulveda's rifle around to point straight at Alejandro—effectively immobilizing the older man. De Soto grabbed Victoria by the arm and pulled her into his embrace. She struggled mightily until she felt the warm muzzle of the Alcalde's pistol against her temple. Victoria instantly stilled.
"Now that I have my insurance, we have the matter of your clothing. As I sat in my office, watching you and your father ride into town earlier, it dawned on me that someone would only wear such stifling clothing today if they had something to hide. What will we find under your exquisitely tailored jacket, Diego? Cuts and bruises perhaps? Take it off, now!" The Alcalde's voice brooked no argument and Diego wearily reached up to unbutton his coat. He tried not to let his stiffness show but it was nearly impossible as his right shoulder refused to cooperate. Mendoza stepped forward to help him.
"The cravat and gloves too." Diego leveled such a glare at the man that Victoria nearly recoiled in fright. She'd never seen such a glare from any man, much less her best friend. As Diego removed the requested articles of clothing, De Soto continued his monologue. "Now, given Zorro's ordeal yesterday, it is hardly necessary to point out that he will have been injured—most likely cuts and bruises on his arms, neck and torso and abrasions on his hands from climbing the cliff."
During this, Diego had removed his cravat and as he loosened his collar a livid bruise was noticeable on the lower part of his neck. Red palms wrapped loosely in gauze became visible as he gingerly removed his gloves.
"Diego?" Victoria's voice quavered as just what exactly the Alcalde was insinuating finally hit home. He met her frank stare with sad blue eyes. He broke off the gaze and tried to ascertain where exactly the lancers were in relation to the crowd. De Soto would keep the guns on his father and Victoria but once his identity was finally revealed, the power-hungry man would most likely turn every available lancer on him in an effort to subdue him. He felt naked without his sword and whip however it couldn't be helped now; he would just have to improvise.
"Take your shirt off or I will have Mendoza cut it off." Diego's fingers lightly shook as they found the tiny buttons hidden in the ruffles of his pristine, white caballero shirt.
"Alcalde, what are you trying to prove? That my son is Zorro?" A titter traveled through the crowd at Don Alejandro's words. "That's just ridiculous and you know it! Take pity on the poor boy, he's taken a nasty spill off of his horse. I too would be ashamed to show anyone proof that an old mare threw and then kicked me."
De Soto could barely contain his glee as Diego pulled his shirttails from his high-waisted blue trousers and he responded to the older don. "Kicked by a horse, huh? Take off the shirt Don Diego." The caballero complied as De Soto's hand fisted in Victoria's soft, black hair and twisted painfully. "If that is the case, then you have a very odd horse. One with lots of little sticks for hooves."
As Mendoza took his shirt, Diego was suddenly aware of the Alcalde's evil laughter punctuated by the sharp intake of breaths from the gathered citizens. Not only was the young don much more muscular than anyone had imagined, it also appeared that there was no unblemished skin on his back—small cuts vied for space with purple, green and yellow bruises. The shape and placement of the bruises indicated a severe beating. There were much larger and uglier black bruises on his torso and arms and from the way he held his right shoulder stiffly against his side, it was obvious he had strained it. From the staff fight and climbing. Alejandro mused. Suddenly every single comment, look and disappearance from his son took on a new meaning.
The entire plaza stood still for several moments as Zorro's true identity seemed to sink in. Mendoza whispered, "All this time he's been you, Don Diego?"
Finally accepting that keeping his secret was no longer an option, Diego addressed Mendoza in his normal tone of voice for the first time without the mask. Alejandro was surprised to hear that jaunty voice coming from his son. "Sí, Sergeant. I am Zorro."
At those three words, pandemonium erupted. Triumph over his greatest enemy made de Soto careless and Victoria was able to free herself using her fists and teeth. Diego took the opportunity to steal Mendoza's sword and push him back into the crowd before lunging forward, trying to draw the lancers' fire away from the innocent citizens. As his dress boots slid on the plaza dust he cursed, not for the first time, at the attire worn by Spain's upper class citizens. His boots looked nice but not only were they extremely uncomfortable, they provided very little traction.
He slid into a gathering of blue-clad soldiers rather ungracefully, knocking most of them off their feet with his big body. He groaned as he fell, fortunately Private Gomez softened his landing. Diego wasted no time and surged to his feet, making sure that his father had ushered Victoria away from the fighting before unleashing his considerable anger on the hapless garrison soldiers.
The gathered crowd watched as the Diego de la Vega they thought they knew slid effortlessly into the persona of Zorro. It seemed that there was no trace left of the peaceful, young don in the man that was managing to keep the entire garrison of soldiers off balance with his swordsmanship. With his left hand nonetheless! Alejandro kept an arm around Victoria, steering her away from the midst of the commotion to a place where they could watch the action without getting themselves into a position where Diego would have to worry about their safety.
It became clear that the Los Angeles military was hopelessly outclassed by one severely injured man. De Soto stood near his office, stroking his neat beard, thoughts racing as he tried to find a way to tip the fight into his favor and quickly. He quickly discarded the idea of getting into a swordfight with the now unmasked bandit as the cornered Fox fought tooth and nail to free himself, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards as his hand brushed the pistol at his waist. Yes, I'll even the odds a bit.
Diego was concentrating so hard on the lancers in front of him and not on the pain that permeated his entire being that he didn't hear Victoria's screams until it was too late and fire lanced through his good arm. The sword fell from his fingers and he whirled to see De Soto standing there with a smirk on his face and a smoking pistol in his hand. He glanced down at his left arm and noticed dispassionately that the bullet had only grazed him but more deeply than ever before. Moving his arm sent shockwaves of pain through his body and his poor mind was starting to shut down due to the sensory overload.
He tried to blink the dirt and the sweat out of his eyes but only succeeded in making himself dizzier than he was already. The Alcalde crept up behind him and swept his legs out from under him. Diego landed gracelessly on his back in the middle of the pueblo unable to prevent his groan of pain.
De Soto leveled another pistol at the young don and demanded that he sit up on his knees. "I do not wish to say what it is that I have to say with you lying in the dirt like that. That's much better. Now, put your hands behind your head." He cocked his pistol to illustrate his point and Diego groaned as he wrenched his arms up and laced his fingers together—his entire demeanor screaming his pain and defeat at the hands of his enemy.
Diego swiveled his head towards his father and the love of his life regarding them sadly with expressive blue eyes. Victoria saw in those deep pools everything that Diego had ever wanted to say to her but couldn't—not in either guise. He silently begged for her forgiveness and she responded with a nearly imperceptible nod of her chin. His father's lips pursed and he grasped Diego's riding gloves in an air of defiance like he usually did when dealing with the Alcalde. The change that came over the young man at their acceptance of his dual life was instantaneous—no longer did his shoulders slump in defeat and he brought his face up to glare at his captor's, but not before winking at Victoria in a jaunty manner reminiscent of Zorro.
She gasped and fanned herself at the implications of that wink. Zorro—no Diego!—she admonished herself could say so much with such a simple act. She thought she heard horses outside of the pueblo but she couldn't be sure, not with the Alcalde droning on and on about how he had finally captured the scourge of the pueblo and how he was finally going to be promoted out of Los Angeles.
De Soto kept his pistol trained on the tall man kneeling in the dust. "Diego de la Vega also known as the infamous bandit Zorro, in the name of his Majesty, King Ferdinand of Spain, I hereby sentence you to death."
"You can't just execute him here! What about a trial? And his last rites?"
"What about a trial, Don Alejandro? This scoundrel you call a son has broken enough laws and acted in defiance of the King himself enough times and with enough witnesses that a trial would be moot and a mere formality at this point. Besides if I wait for a trial, he'll most likely escape as he always does. No—he will be executed here and now."
"And the Padre?" Victoria chimed in.
"Diego," the Alcalde sneered menacingly, "unfortunately, Padre Benitez had to make a trip to the mission in Santa Barbara. In his stead, I am the acting chaplain for the garrison and that includes all prisoners." He chuckled in that dry, wheezy way of his and the hairs on the back of Diego's neck stood up. He didn't see how he was going to get out of this one alive.
"Diego de la Vega," the pistol was cocked and brought level with his head, "may God have mercy on your soul." Diego closed his eyes, unwilling to see the horror blazed across the faces of those he loved. He flinched as a single shot rang out across the plaza and the darkness Diego had come to expect never materialized. His eyes flew open in time to see the gun fly out of the Alcalde's grip and the white-haired man cradled his hand against his chest. Diego looked up to the roofline to see a smoking rifle in Felipe's capable hands.
"Lancers! Shoot him!" The garrison soldiers didn't have a chance to follow orders when the sound of many guns being cocked echoed through the pueblo. Nearly twenty Indians and vaqueros stood along the rooftops silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun, long rifles butted against their shoulders. Mendoza glanced at the Alcalde who quickly motioned the lancers back.
Victoria and Alejandro rushed forward to help Diego just as he surged to his feet, borrowed blade in hand. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and laid the sword across De Soto's neck. "Get out of here, Ignacio," he growled in a menacing manner. "You have outworn your welcome and I should have done something about it long before now."
"Alright, alright. You've won! I will leave peacefully."
"Good." Diego fixed his nemesis with one last glare before turning around to join his father and Victoria. He made it a good ten feet before he staggered and fell to one knee—his body no longer able to support him now that the adrenaline had run its course. The sword clattered in the dust of the plaza and he caught his weight on his palms, hissing in pain as he did so. Alejandro and Victoria rushed to his aid and between the two of them they managed to get him upright. Glancing over his son's shoulder, he saw De Soto raise the pistol to shoot Diego in the back.
"NO!" He cried as he inserted himself between the madman and his injured boy as only a father would. A shot rang out but the pain never came. Everyone turned to see a red stain spreading across the Alcalde's shirt. His eyes rolled up in his head as he fell to his knees before pitching face first in the dirt—dead before he ever hit the ground.
Diego glanced to the rooftop, hoping that Felipe hadn't killed the Alcalde—his son was too young to shoulder the burden of killing a man even if it was to protect his father. Relief flooded the young don's frame when he saw smoke curling from the muzzle of White Feather's rifle, the man whom he had bested in the staff fight. The Indian warrior met Diego's eyes with his own inscrutable stare before nodding. He whistled low in his throat and the Indians retreated from the rooftops and disappeared into the countryside around the pueblo.
Felipe quickly approached the men he considered his father and grandfather and the woman he so desperately wanted for a mother and began looking at Diego's gunshot wound. The older man quieted Felipe's nervous fingers with a large hand and he murmured, "Let's head back to the tavern where it's a little more comfortable. Then you can fuss over me all you want."
A wide grin split Felipe's face in two as he helped his grandfather lead Diego to the tavern. Victoria ran ahead to prepare her best room and the supplies she thought they'd need to treat his wounds. While saddened by the death of his old schoolmate, Diego couldn't help but feel relieved as the weight of the burden he'd carried alone all these years suddenly evaporated. He knew that there would be questions and hurt feelings to deal with later but for now he took the opportunity to finally broach a subject with Alejandro that he'd been meaning to discuss for some time. "Father, I would like to formally adopt Felipe…"
Finis