Hello, all. I hope this finds you all doing well, and enjoying better weather and warmer temperatures than we have been here. There's not much action this chapter, but I always appreciated the character of Padre Benitez, and thought he might be able to inject a bit of clarity and truth into Diego's thoughts about now. Thanks again to all of you for continuing to read and review, and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

The gravel and dirt crunched under Diego's boots as he made his way across the plaza to the church. His eyes moved about him as he walked, taking in his surroundings. It was a habit that had become second nature to him since donning the mask of his alter ego, one of being aware of what and who was around him. However, the vigilance of his senses slowly dimmed at the silence surrounding him. Most of the pueblo was still quiet and dark, a lone soldier standing guard outside the cuartel the only other visible presence in the square. Diego exhaled a deep, weary sigh, his gaze resting on the lancer and the now quiet cuartel. Had he not known differently, he never would have believed the horrible scene that had occurred in the sleepy, darkened town last night. In fact, looking around him now, the pueblo Los Angeles looked as it would any other morning - as if nothing wrong had happened here at all.

A vague but familiar unsettled feeling settled in his stomach at the thought. But something awful had happened here. He shook his head slightly, his hands clenching at his sides as he walked. It always felt wrong somehow, that life could continue, that things could once again be so calm after a place and its people had seen such violence and some of the worst of humanity. His gaze shifted back to the still darkened tavern, and the corners of his mouth curved in a faint smile. But with the actions of his father, the sergeant, and Victoria last night, the worst of humanity had been intermingled with some of the best of it. Their courage and compassion - and that of so many others in Los Angeles - had been what had kept him going as Zorro and fighting with such conviction as he had these last two years. He'd battled both as Zorro and as Diego to protect the people's chance to fight for the lives they'd only dreamed of, and felt a pride like no other when they would embrace and embody such courage in themselves. His eyes slowly slid back across the darkened windows of the plaza to the dim light coming from those of the mission. The battle in Los Angeles for freedom and justice was one he'd seen many victories in over the last two years. But try as he might this morning to keep his thoughts on those victories, they somehow seemed pale in the face of the losses of last night.

The ache in Diego intensified as he slowly climbed the mission's stone steps, the unsettled feeling now rolling through him as he paused at the threshold, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He closed his eyes and rested a hesitant hand against the worn wood of the door, trying to shut out the memories of being on these same steps last night. This place had once been one of refuge and peace for him, and he hated that it would now have to be tied to such difficult memories for him. He'd been a boy in this church, had taken his first communion here...said goodbye to his mother, to childhood friends here...

Old memories flowed past Diego like ghosts, each specter of remembered peace seeming to be chased by one of long conceded pain. He bowed his head, resting both hands on the church doors, as if to draw a renewed strength from the serenity that he'd found so many times before just inside them. The gesture seemed to have its desired effect, and chased back Diego's darkened thoughts, and he took a deep breath as a renewed determination squared his shoulders. Some of those memories had been unquestionably difficult to bear, but he would not let them or the events of last night brush those good remembrances aside. Diego let the final hesitation that lingered in him rush out with a final exhale from his lungs, and he stepped forward, the sanctuary's doors parting before him without a sound.

Despite his chosen determination, Diego did not move immediately to step past the doorway's threshold, instead letting his eyes quietly survey the familiar room. Dim, warm candlelight from the metal candelabras lining the room cast the place in peaceful glow, seeming to beckon him inside, and he moved forward a few steps, his eyes automatically sliding to the back bench where Edmond had been. His eyes searched over the polished wood, as if expecting to find some scar or mark left there by his friend, but his eyes were met with nothing but an empty seat. He exhaled a grateful sigh. There seemed to be none of the reminders here he'd expected of the events of last night. Diego raised his head, his eyes following the rows of pews to the front of the room - then suddenly felt the air still in his lungs as his gaze halted on the altar, and on the open casket that sat before it. Diego swallowed hard, trying to will the once solid stone to once again become steady again under his feet. He forced himself to take a breath, but the fresh flow of oxygen seemed to do little to steady him, and instead burned a path of slow fire through his suddenly restricted lungs. He tried to step forward, but his whole body seemed to tense against the motion when he did. The tension flowed like an electric pulse, his heartbeat suddenly audible to his own ears. He was wrong. One reminder of last night did still remain. Diego swallowed again, attempting to quiet the rapid thud of his heart he could swear was now echoing off the stone walls. And it was a reminder he was suddenly not so certain if he was ready to face.

Diego silently willed back the rigid set of his limbs, his arms finally releasing his belongings into the seat of the back pew. The dull, dried red stain on his tattered shirt from last night came to rest on top, and he quickly jerked his gaze away from it and lifted his chin resolutely. He'd already had more than his fill of feeling like a coward this morning when he'd ducked out on Victoria and his father, and he wouldn't let any memory or reminder let his courage falter now, not when he was already leaving his master to be buried without him. Diego silently dropped to one knee and bowed his head, gleaning strength from the invisible cross he covered himself with as he rose again to his feet, pushing past the final resistance in his muscles as he forced himself to step forward. His guilt and shame, his grief and confusion - all of it held less importance than the one task before him now. His master deserved one final goodbye from his student.

His eyes remained fixed on the casket as Diego made his way to the altar, his breath escaping him in an unsteady exhale as he made the final step, his eyes coming to rest on his friend's face. Though Edmond's expression was one of peace and not the contorted in the pain that had colored it last night, the sight offered Diego little comfort, and any solace he'd felt entering the sanctuary quickly skittered away as the sight of his friend's body pierced reality through him like a cold stab to the heart. Diego's jaw clenched tight. He could no longer grasp onto the final faint remaining shreds of hope that last night had been some horrible nightmare he'd just woken from. Edmond's body was here, in front of him. He was truly gone, and there was nothing he or Zorro or anyone else could do to bring him back.

Diego's fists clenched at his sides, but he could stop neither the guilt nor regret that surged over him, nor the tears that followed to rim his eyes. His vision blurred as he bowed his head, his words coming in a grief strangled whisper. "I'm so sorry, Edmond...I'm so sorry..."

"But you have nothing to apologize for, my son."

Diego's head jerked up, his eyes coming to rest on Padre Benitez standing only a few feet away. Diego blinked at the man in surprise. He hadn't even heard him approach.

The padre stepped to Diego's side, his eyes full of compassion. "Your actions were not the ones that took your friend's life, Don Diego. Your father told me of all you did for Edmond last night, and how very proud he was of you. He and everyone else believe you did everything within your power to protect your friend."

Diego stood motionless for a long moment, but his features quickly grew stony again as his eyes fell again to Edmond. "But those actions still weren't enough, were they, Padre? Sir Edmond is still dead, and I..." He paused, his eyes closing against his guilt. "I was powerless to stop it."

"You were not powerless, Diego," the padre answered quietly. "You were simply human."

Diego looked at Padre Benitez in mild confusion. "What do you mean, Padre?"

The old man's eyes shifted to Edmond's body, and he emitted a small but regretful sigh before lifting them back to Diego. "In moments like these, we find our strengths, but we also must face our humanness - which means we must face our frailties, vulnerabilities and imperfections. We as humans do not like, even fear feeling powerlessness, and try to shove it aside by blaming ourselves," he paused, giving a pointed look to Diego, "and by thinking we have more control over our lives than we humanly possess." The padre's eyes moved over Diego's face. "It is a natural impulse for us to want to stop the all evils of this world from harming those around us, Don Diego, particularly when those evils threaten those we love and care for most. But sometimes we forget that those evils can reach beyond our human control."

Diego felt the padre's words work at the darkness invading his thoughts, but the truth of those words seemed to lose their way in that darkness, and Diego's jaw set tight against his own pain, frustration and anger creating a harsh edge to his voice. "Then why are we put here, Padre? Why does God give us skills to help others, if in the end we cannot use them to help those that we care for most?" He shook his head, disbelief and confusion pulling at him as his eyes moved to the padre. "Doesn't He want us to use what He's given us to help others to our fullest capacity?"

Padre Benitez saw the warring emotions in Diego's eyes, and smiled gently in response. "Indeed He does, Diego. But God also wants us to recognize the limits of our humanity, and to recognize our need for Him and for others that He places in our lives."

Diego's shoulders sagged slightly with the weariness weighing at his spirit, and at the familiar tug of the padre's words. The wise old man had seemed able to recognize the solitary fight of Diego's spirit from his earliest days at the mission, from the earliest days when Diego had sought his counsel. But even the padre's counsel seemed to do little to console the guilt and self-loathing that seemed to surround him now. He'd been raised to fight for others, to protect them...

Diego's gaze shifted from Edmond to the cross set above the altar, his gaze and voice becoming far off. "My father repeated the same scripture passage to me over and over as I grew up, wanting me to memorize it, to remember the importance of my place as a caballero and leader among the people, and to never take for granted the blessings that came with it..." He inhaled deeply, the deeply ingrained words flowing out of him on an unsteady breath. " 'For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required... ' "

Padre Benitez smile returned at Diego's words as he finished the verse for him. " 'And to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.' " His eyes warmed with pride. "It is a passage you and your father have both lived out admirably, Diego, and Los Angeles and its people are better for those actions. But even in light of such words of responsibility, one must also remember that though we are made in God's image, we are limited by our human flesh, and therefore do not have the unlimited power that He alone possesses." The padre laid a comforting hand on Diego's arm. "The Almighty does not desire us to be bound by shame and guilt, Diego - emotions I can see so strongly warring in you now. Those feelings will do nothing but keep you trapped in the past."

Diego drew in an unsteady breath. " But Father... how can I not help but keep retracing my steps... think about the mistakes I made..."

The padre's grip on Diego's arm tightened slightly, the movement enough to regain his attention before the padre spoke again. "God has given you many gifts, Don Diego - kindness and courage, generosity, caring, wisdom..." His gaze remained intent. "You share them all so readily with others, and so often ask nothing in return. You keep yourself distant from your father, your friends..." he paused, his eyes taking a knowing gleam, "from Senorita Escalante... all because you believe that hiding your true self from them is necessary to keep them safe."

Diego's head jerked up at the padre's cryptic words. Did he know of Diego's feelings towards Victoria? His brow furrowed as he eyed the old man with a quizzical look. "What are you trying to say, Padre?"

Padre Benitez's eyes lit with a kind and knowing smile. "A simple black mask cannot conceal all things, my son." His smile grew slightly when Diego's eyes widened with disbelief, the small but unmistakable response confirmation enough to the padre's words. "God often calls us to have the strength to stand alone in the face of adversity and injustice. It is something you have done many times, my son, both from behind a mask and without it. But even at humanity's start in the Garden of Eden, the Almighty created humans to live in community with each other, to be helpmates to one another." His gaze remained unwavering on Diego's. "Even the strongest of God's children still need to be loved, Diego."

Diego looked at Padre Benitez, stunned. The wise old father had helped him many a time, both as Diego and Zorro, but he'd never thought... He blinked once, then twice before finally finding his voice again. "You knew, Padre..." He shook his head lightly, confusion and uncertainty tangling his thoughts. "Why have you not said anything to me before now?"

The padre's expression remained unchanged. "There was no reason for such knowledge to be voiced - at least, not until now." His smile grew. "Perhaps God, in His infinite wisdom, knew the time would come when you would not only be in need of His words, but also when you would be ready to listen to them."

Diego's own smile returned at the padre's insight. "Perhaps so, Father."

Padre Benitez gave a small nod before he continued. "Don Diego, God has blessed you with much love in your life - perhaps much more so than you realize. Love is a blessing, and something that He meant to not only to be given, but also to be shared." He glanced briefly to Sir Edmond before resting a hand on Diego's arm again in comfort. "I have no doubt of the pain in your heart at losing your friend. Do what you must to honor that pain and loss with reflection and mourning, but do not let the guilt you feel over circumstances you could not control for him distance you from those you love that are still here." A smile light of pride shone in the padre's eyes. "You are strong and courageous, my son, but so are those you love. Let them be the helpmates God intended them to be for you. Give them the chance to give back to you what you have so freely given to them."

Diego blinked back the tears blurring his vision, and quickly passed a hand over his eyes before glancing to the window, his earlier confliction returning at the sunlight's growing glow outside the stained glass. Though the padre's words had stirred something in him, he still felt unsettled in his emotions, uncertain in his path. "I should go, Father..."

Padre Benitez's hand held tighter to Diego's shoulder. "Please, Don Diego, before you go, let me pray with you."

Diego glanced again to the window, then quickly halted his urgency to leave at the quiet plea in the padre's eyes. He could see how much Padre Benitez wanted Diego to be released of his guilt, but Diego himself was uncertain if he was able to relinquish it so easily. However, instead of voicing this reluctance to his old friend, he silently consented to his request, hesitating for only a moment before bowing his head.

Diego felt his chest grow tight again as the padre prayed, a ghost of a bittersweet smile coming to his lips. The padre's prayer was old, and very familiar to him. It was a favorite of his father's, one that had been used that day long ago when they had buried his mother...

"Heavenly Father, you have not made us for darkness and death,
but for life with you forever.

Without you we have nothing to hope for;

with you we have nothing to fear.

Speak to us now your words of eternal life.

Lift us from anxiety and guilt
to the light and peace of your presence,
and set the glory of your love before us;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen."

Giving one last reassuring touch to Diego's shoulder, Padre Benitez glanced to Edmond once more, giving Diego a reassuring nod before taking a step back. "I will tell your father that you were here."

Diego's features softened with sadness as he shifted his gaze back from the padre and once more to Edmond. He reached out, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder one last time, then took in a long breath before slowly withdrawing his touch. "Farewell, my friend." He slowly backed away, finally turning to head back towards the doors before he suddenly paused. "Padre?" The old man stopped and turned back, and Diego gave him a faint smile. "Thank you."

Padre Benitez returned his smile. "Go in peace, my son. And, please, no matter where your path leads you from here, promise me you will consider what we've talked about."

Diego paused and scooped up his belongings, his hand resting on the door as he gave Edmond's casket one final glance. He looked up again, then gave the padre a parting nod. "I will, Padre. I promise."

For those that may not know and are curious, the scripture verse Diego quoted was Luke 12:48 from the King James Bible. I saw it as something Alejandro would repeat to Diego as a boy, and as something Diego would take to heart. Also, Padre Benitez's prayer is an actual Catholic funeral prayer I stumbled across in my research. Though I couldn't find any dates as to how old the prayer actually is, I wanted to use something that I thought would give Diego comfort through tying Diego's old memories to his new ones.