February 3, 1814

It was afternoon and pleasantly warm in Don Alejandro's rose garden. Felipe moved among the blossoms, removing the old heads from the show plants and absently popping any stray insects he found into the empty wine bottle he carried. This time of year there weren't as many as bugs as he'd like. Spiders particularly would be nice, but you only found the big fat ones in august.

Behind him Diego sat in the sun. He had the Shakespeare open in his lap, but his eyes were closed. For the last three days he'd been pretending to be more interested in some odd literary comparison than in painting or riding into town for lunch at the tavern or taking walks in the garden. So far Felipe thought he was doing a pretty good job of pretending that 'exhausted and slightly dizzy' was actually only 'distracted and moody.'

The concealment was helped by the fact that Don Alejandro and Gilberto had been out all day, every day, helping to sort out the chaos leaving all those hoof-prints had made of the range. Strays were scattered from one end of the rancho to the other. They left at dawn and got home after sundown. Gilberto had been so tired he hadn't gone out as Zorro once, although the alcalde was stubbornly riding the hills with parties of lancers searching for some sign of him. The reward for Zorro had been raised from seven hundred and fifty pesos to one thousand.

Tonight, Gilberto was planning to toss a bottle full of insects through the alcalde's bedroom window.

There was a grey lizard sunning itself on the garden wall. Would it eat so many of the bugs that it would make the surprise less effective? It was small enough to fit in the bottle...

He glanced at Diego. Probably he was awake, but Felipe wasn't going to ask his advice. Diego disapproved of the bug plan because it was "pointless and childish." Gilberto had responded that it would suit Ramone very well, and Diego had been a bit prim about the issue ever since. Ah, well. Felipe scooped up the lizard and popped it into the bottle.

"Hola, Don Diego! Good afternoon."

Startled, Felipe leapt upright and then scrambled franticly to keep from dropping the bottle. When he steadied, he looked up to find Father Benitez looking at him from over the gate. He grinned sheepishly.

"Ah, Felipe. I didn't see you."

"Father Benitez," Diego said, setting his feet to rise. "Please, join us."

Pushing open the gate, Father Benitez said, "Don't get up, Diego. You'll have to forgive me for barging in to your garden."

"No, you're welcome as always. On you way somewhere, I assume?"

The priest pulled one of the simple cane chairs closer to Diego's and sat down. "Not at all. I'm looking for you."

"Oh?"

"Your Maria was in town this morning. She mentioned you'd been feeling a little low."

Diego glanced at Felipe. Apparently they hadn't been quite as discreet as they'd hoped. Felipe withdrew his handkerchief and used it to stopper the bottle so the little captives didn't get out, and then pulled up a chair on the other side of Diego.

"It's nothing serious," Diego said. "I may have overextended myself a bit, but I'm doing better."

Father Benitez became more serious. "Truly? I thought perhaps...The strain must have been terrible, when word came that Don Gilberto and Zorro and the sergeant..."

Diego shook his head quickly. "I never believed they were dead. I was never told they were in danger."

"Wise," he conceded, glancing at Felipe. "But how did they keep it from you?"

Diego smiled. He had a look Felipe couldn't name. "I imagine they couldn't have, but I didn't happen to be at home when word came. I'd gone riding. Rather further and harder then I'd intended, actually. Part of the reason I'm not myself at the moment is that I'm still a bit sore. Apparently all the sitting around this past year has made me soft...Father? Is something wrong?"

The old man's eyes were almost comically wide, but there was nothing at all amusing about his expression.

"Father?" Diego sat forward worriedly.

Slowly, Father Benitez sat back. "I had convinced myself that I had been wrong. That you would not, could not be so stupid...that even if it were possible - which obviously it was not - you would never be a party to something so dangerous, so pointless, so utterly contemptuous of human life - "

Felipe shoved the bottle of bugs under his arm and said desperately, "No! It wasn't his fault! Diego would never endanger all those people. I didn't do what they told me to do! They were too close and I was afraid - "

"Felipe, child, what in the world -!" Father Benitez gasped.

"It was my fault! Diego wasn't stupid! He would never do anything like that on purpose! It was me!"

Gently, Diego reached out and laid a hand on Felipe's shoulder. Felipe stilled.

"I see. Somehow this was your fault, child?" Father Benitez shook his head. Then a thought seemed to occur to him. He reached across Diego and gently took the bottle. He set it aside without commenting on the contents. Then he took Felipe's hands and held them in the light.

The shallow cuts and prickly scrapes had faded nicely to whitish scars and flakes of dead skin. When even a priest's hands were calloused and scratched from gardening and caring for animals, most of the remains of Felipe's injuries were unnoticeable. Except for the huge purple bruise on the heel of his left hand at the base of his thumb. And, if he cared to look, there were several suspicious scrapes on Felipe's face.

Felipe closed his eyes.

Diego said softly, "It went wrong. This Grey Wing, he was incredibly fast, and he missed nothing. Gilberto said he had never seen anything like it. It was...it all went wrong."

Father Benitez squeezed Felipe's hands and released them. As he sat back, he crossed himself and dropped his eyes. "It hardly seems possible. Don Gilberto was in the mine, and...Diego, you couldn't have. You haven't the stamina. You might have killed yourself..."

At this Diego looked a little offended. "Apparently stamina is less necessary than will. And if you can think of another course of action, even in hindsight, I would like to hear it."

Father Benitez sighed. "No, the mere idea of doing yourself irreparable harm wouldn't stop you." He crossed himself. "I cannot even say you were wrong. I...There is nothing I can say, is there?"

"Well...the lecture on stupidity wasn't completely misplaced," Diego said, smiling a tentative olive branch. "We were not prepared for Grey Wing. That we didn't lose everything one way or another...it must have been a miracle."

"One I will be giving thanks for at mass," the priest agreed. "Now. With this new information in mind, perhaps...we could begin again?" he took a deep breath. "Maria mentioned you have been feeling poorly?"

"I've been a bit dizzy," Diego admitted.

"Breathlessness?"

"No. For which I'm grateful."

"Spells?"

"Yesterday right after breakfast, but it only lasted half an hour."

Father Benitez quickly performed the examination Felipe had seen so many times before.

This time he couldn't be calm about what Father Benitez might find. Felipe had tried very hard not to think what Diego had done or how badly it might have turned out, but Father Benitez had said it aloud: Diego might have died. He might still have done himself irreparable harm. Felipe's palms were sweaty and his throat felt horribly tight.

Felipe had already checked Diego twice today. His pulse was still not quite steady or strong. They had been slowly increasing his medicine, but it hadn't helped yet. Diego had suggested switching to cinchona or aconitum. When Diego had been taking them last summer, Felipe hadn't read the pharmacopeia. He'd had no idea how dangerous those drugs were. Now he knew better, and the thought terrified him.

"Are you eating well, Diego?"

Diego shrugged. Felipe shook his head firmly. Diego looked distinctly ungrateful at this helpful clarification. "I haven't been hungry," he said.

"And sleeping?"

"My heart has been behaving itself at night - "

Slowly the priest shook his head. "I asked if you'd been sleeping."

"Not well."

Felipe startled. That was a surprise. If Diego wasn't sick, of course he was sleeping well.

"I keep...thinking," Diego said.

"Nightmares?"

"No."

That earned him a doubtful look.

"No, honestly." Diego nodded at Felipe. "Neither of us."

"You're positive that Felipe is sleeping through the night? What has he said?"

"Nothing." Diego's gaze settled on the top of the adobe wall enclosing the garden. "But I would have heard, if he were in distress."

"Because you have been lying awake, listening."

Diego didn't deny it.

Felipe slid out of his chair and knelt on the paving stones at Diego's side. He laid his smaller hand on top of Diego's.

"And I suppose you never stopped to consider the wisdom of allowing yourself to indulge in worry and regret?"

Diego blinked. "Wisdom?"

Patiently, Father Benitez said, "You used yourself ruthlessly a few days ago, depleted every scrap of strength you had. And now, how can you build yourself up again? You won't sleep, you barely eat, you corrode yourself with worry - I know; you feel unwell, and that makes everything more difficult. Diego. That is just too much to ask of your heart. It can't keep up. That's why altering the medicine doesn't help, I think. It doesn't remove the problem."

"My current weakness is my own fault then," Diego said heavily.

"I am not judging you. What you did was remarkable. You held off two lancers, kept your head clear enough to judge the use of explosives...You've only been back on that elderly saddle-horse for a few months: to ride the most aggressive stallion in the whole territory over the ridge and back at the best speed he can make? I'm astonished you can move at all." He smiled. "It is impressive you can sit. Hmmm. Discomfort on top of exhaustion and not sleeping."

"The lancers were more cooperative than perhaps they have let on," Diego murmured.

Father Benitez ignored the comment. "And now you are surprised that you feel so depleted? I will send Carlito out with a strengthening tea. You must drink a full liter of it every day...not all at once, naturally. Slowly. And you must eat. I know, you never gave it any thought before falling ill, and you've gotten out of the habit, doing so well these last few months. Small meals, nothing too demanding to digest. Meat, always, but never very much." He glanced at Felipe and frowned. "And he must sleep. Does he worry when Don Gilberto is out? Hmmm." He lifted the bottle and handed it back. "Perhaps you'd best let these go for another day then."

Immediately, Felipe withdrew the handkerchief and laid the bottle on the ground.

"You will be all right, Diego. I think you've done no permanent harm." He thought for a moment. "Baths. I wish I could say slightly warmer than usual, but keep it the same. I'll send some liniment with Carlito as well. And as soon as the tendency toward dizziness recedes, I expect you to start walking in the garden again."

"I will follow your advice in every detail," Diego promised. Felipe judged him to be quite earnest.

"Now, and if the topic upsets you, I will cease. But there is another matter that concerns me."

"Certainly," Diego said.

"Was I correct in thinking that Felipe's little friends were a gift for our alcalde?"

Diego nodded.

"Has his temper run away with him?" He was not talking about the alcalde.

"He is angry, but he has not lost perspective."

"This particular...gesture...seems pointless and petty."

Diego sighed. "Calculatedly so. He believes Ramone is simply too dangerous to leave in place...that it is only a matter of time before either greed or incompetence causes a disaster that we cannot repair and perhaps won't even survive." Diego paused. "He will not admit this but...All these months, seeing the results of the alcalde's..." he glanced at Felipe and tripped over his words, "enthusiastic cruelty, it has filled him with an outrage and a thirst for justice...I think his morality was mainly philosophical before. Based on reason, not on compassion. His compassion, when it does come into play... overwhelms him. He has seen too many whippings, watched too many farmers working off their taxes by turning the millstone like mules. He cannot bear it. He means to see Ramone gone, and he is going to push him until he does something stupid enough to accomplish that."

"A dangerous path," Father Benitez murmured.

"And in my opinion not necessary. Ramone is under control."

"He may be contained, Diego, but he is not under control. I can see why Zorro is tempted to force an end to this. The idea...might well work." He sighed. "I will speak to your brother. You need another week undisturbed in order to recover. His plans will have to wait."

Being a priest, Father Benitez suggested they pray then. At once, Diego eased down onto his knees. Of the Latin that followed, Felipe only recognized only the first three prayers. After that...it might have been anything. Reading it he could probably have followed along, but spoken Latin was impenetrable.

It was rhythmic and rather musical. With Father Benitez here helping and reassuring Diego, it was quite easy for Felipe to give himself over to quiet gratitude and humility.

The prayers drew to a close, and Father Benitez blessed them both and set a hand under Diego's arm to lever him into the chair. Diego's shoulders and jaw were relaxed now and he was breathing more slowly. Felipe wondered if he heard something in the text of the prayers that had calmed and consoled him. Or perhaps it was one of the little miracles the father was always seeming to manage.

"Do you think you could rest a bit, Diego?"

Diego smiled sadly. "I've been such a poor host already."

"Felipe will keep me company. I'm sure we have plenty to talk about."

Diego nodded. "Perhaps that would be best."

They made sure Diego was comfortable in the chair and moved further toward the back of the garden. These roses weren't completely for show; the best pods were left to swell and grow for tea. Father Benitez noticed at once and ran his hands reverently over the darkening bulbs. "The quality is exceptional."

"How many will you like? I will tell Don Alejandro."

Father Benitez laughed. "I was not hinting, child."

Felipe considered and then explained carefully. "He would give you anything. All of us would do anything you asked."

"What do you...I see. You mean because I have been some help to Diego."

Well, obviously.

Father Benitez sighed and dropped a blessing on Felipe's head. Felipe wasn't sure why. "There are some teas I make from rose hips that are very useful, so I won't refuse if a gift is offered...but let remind you that Diego and his brother have done every bit as much for me as I have done for them? All right? Now." He motioned to a large, oddly shaped rock that Don Alejandro had kept in the garden. When they were working here he often set his pruning tools on it. Now, Father Benitez gathered aside his cassock, hopped onto the rock and patted the spot beside him. "I think we have some things to talk about."

Felipe scooted on and turned sideways: you could not easily sign to someone who was beside you.

"The first thing you need to know is, I was not just being optimistic for Diego's sake. I think he will improve very quickly."

Felipe nodded gratefully.

"When Carlito comes with the tea you must follow the instructions exactly, and Diego must drink at least a liter a day. There will be a second tea in the packet, for sleeping. But don't use it tonight. If Diego can get some rest on his own, let him alone. If he doesn't sleep tonight..."

Felipe nodded that he understood.

"I can still scarcely believe it. Felipe, that mine must be twelve miles away by road, and it's not much of a road - "

Felipe gestured to the southeast. "Closer in a straight line."

"Over that ridge, which is hardy more believable. I still cannot imagine how he did it!"

"Diego is very brave."

Father Benitez closed his eyes and crossed himself. "I had convinced myself I must have imagined...everything. Zorro could not have rescued the search party if Don Gilberto was trapped inside." He shook himself. "Well. It doesn't matter what is possible, only what has happened. I assume that you were the decoy they were all chasing? And you were in the mine when the cave-in..." he drew Felipe forward and began to crawl the tips of his Fingers over Felipe's head. Felipe tried not to flinch has he touched the cut under his hair that had bled so badly.

And then he was being pushed back and Father Benitez was peering almost suspiciously into his eyes. "Hmmm. Dizziness? No? Headaches or any trouble seeing?"

It took Felipe a moment to realize what he was talking about. "I'm not addled," he said.

"And have the twins confirmed this, or have you adopted Diego's bad habit of diagnosing yourself?"

Oh. Well. "They've been watching me very carefully. I think they would know..." Which was not quite what Father Benitez had asked, but was the best Felipe could offer.

"'They peer at you excessively...so they would have noticed...if you had broken your brain?'" he repeated. "Very well. You need not tell me, but I am curious...if you were caught in the cave-in, when did you escape? Surely you didn't wait until everyone was gone..."

Felipe shook his head vigorously. "Gilberto knew a small opening. He got me out and sent me..." to get Diego. Instead of letting me stay to help him escape, he tried to get air to the others and sent me for Diego. They both could have died. They both very nearly did. "It was my fault! I couldn't do what they needed me to do, and I was stupid, and I couldn't - "

Father Benitez caught his hands and shook his head firmly. "You are blaming yourself for the disaster? No. You did what you were asked to do as best you were able. No one can do more than that. And the good news is, as soon as Corporal Eddo's arm mends, the harm will be done with. Diego will recover. Gilberto is fine. Zorro's secret is safe. There is no reason to regret, only to be thankful."

Felipe managed to nod. He didn't want to argue with this, and it was surely wrong to think he should...

"Now. Is there anything else we should talk about? You've had a difficult few days. Is there anything you need?"

Felipe asked for confession.

"But, child, it wasn't your fault. You have nothing - oh. Of course, other things must have happened as well in the last few weeks. Here then:" he gave a blessing and folded his hands to wait.

And now, faced with it, Felipe was filled with dread. He dug a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal from his sash and wrote, "Impiety. Doubt."

Father Benitez's brows rose. "I need a bit of context."

Felipe took a deep breath and slowly, slowly drew the answer in the air, pausing for Father Benitez to decipher the story.

"A few days ago, yes...before the mine? Yes, and Diego was very ill. And... someone - Oh, Don Alejandro was praying...and you couldn't pray. I see. Why couldn't you - you were angry. Surely not at Diego. No. You were angry at God. For making Diego ill, I suppose?"

Felipe nodded. At least the priest didn't sound completely shocked by what he had done.

"It isn't an unusual response. Or even hard to understand."

"A sin!"

"Hmmm. Perhaps. Consider this: I am quite sure you are right, and if the Lord chose, He could have placed us in a world with no possibility of pain or loss or illness."

Well, he had fall in into that trap. Felipe knew this lesson. "He did. Paradise. We fell."

"Only because He gave us the possibility, endowed us with just enough reason and curiosity and vision to lead ourselves astray."

Felipe drew back. To hear a priest talk this way! Lightening might strike them dead.

Father Benitez chuckled at his expression. "Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? But tell me this: What kind of creatures would we be with so little reason and curiosity and vision? Who would Diego be, if he lived a life with neither trials nor puzzles? We live in this fallen world where there is misery and fear and injustice and weakness and death...but we have minds to apprehend this world, to solve the mysteries, to treat the diseases...we have kindness so that we can comfort each other...we have the word of God to guide us...Yes, life is very difficult, but we are not bereft."

Put that way it didn't sound so bad. But still, he remembered Diego's exhaustion and desperation and knew it would not be the last time.

"Would Diego want a life that was simple and meaningless? A life where there was nothing to be learned, where there was no growth? Where nothing died or changed? That is Heaven, Felipe, and while I have every expectation that someday Diego will be there, it doesn't seem to me that he is a particular hurry?"

No, Diego wasn't ready to die. Even if living was very hard sometimes...

"The Lord has not abandoned him, any more than he has abandoned you." And then to a list of prayers in contrition for the doubt, Father Benitez assigned him to compile a list of bad events that had good effects whatsoever. It was an odd penance, but...perhaps it was about learning perspective. Diego's illness was not the only tragedy in the world.

After that they talked about plants: the herbs in the kitchen garden, the weeds growing in the rocks outside the fence, the trees across the road. The priest knew much more than the pharmacopeia and it was much easier to learn when confronted with a leaf or bud than a diagram.

"But I've only been in this part of the world a little while. The wild plants are quite different. I have too much to learn myself."

They talked about poultices - for slowing bleeding, for fighting infection, for bringing down swelling - until Diego woke and joined them.

~tbc