Chapter XVIII

The sea

The fantasies she had elaborated during those two agonizing months hadn't been that wrong after all: she was with Diego on a horse, on Tornado, in fact; what she couldn't have foreseen is the blindfolds they made them wear, only way the white people were allowed into the secret indian village.

She felt his breath over her neck: "You were very brave."

"And you were a total madman" she whispered, inhaling his closeness: "How could you even think of actually going there? I thought you'd send someone else to pick me up."

"No, I wouldn't send someone else for my wife."

Good thing he didn't see her smile: the scolding would have lost all seriousness.

"That sounds nice, but it gets ugly if they capture you."

"But they didn't and they won't."

"They did it once."

"It won't happen again." He placed a brief kiss on the back of her head, where the precarious bun had been before: "Do you believe me?"

No need to ask.

"Yes but-"

At the front of the small caravan, one of the guides said something.

"We must be quiet now, we're just entering their sacred lands."

Josefina nodded. They still had an hour to go.

(...)

When they were allowed to remove the blindfold, the first thing that caught her attention was a campfire, and around it, fifteen or twenty tents at most. Everyone was probably sleeping, because the two she'd already met were the only ones in sight. After helping her get off the horse, Diego spoke to them:

"Thank you, my friends."

They weren't too talkative, it seemed. A slight nod and each of them headed to their respective home, built with pelts, leather and wood.

There was one for the two of them as well.

Of all places, this was the furthest one she could have imagined he would be in. According to the townspeople, the indians who hadn't yet been civilized and still lived in nature, where only a little more than wild, dangerous animals, perhaps even cannibals. But now she could see it wasn't like that, at least not this group.

The tent seemed bigger on the inside that on the outside, she saw it when he lit on a small oil lamp that rested on the floor, where there was also a mat and other scarce objects.

All of the questions that had been swarming inside her mind, melted away. They weren't so important, right? At least not as much as perceiving his presence right in front of her, alive, in one piece, having found (as always) the way, though unconventional, of beating the odds and defeating death.

"They suit you" he said at last.

The pants; she'd forgotten she was wearing them.

"This suits you", with the tip of her fingers, she grazed his now bearded jaw.

"Not this." Josefina couldn't help to laugh when he got rid of the wacko hair; it was a wig, then. Where did he get it? "Better?"

"Not bad."

"And you? Are you all right?"
"Yes. Just, something pricked my finger, I think."
"Come."

He led her to a low, makeshift stool, then sat on the floor, the lamp between them.

Diego took the hand and examined the injured finger:

"Yes, it's a splinter, and a big one. You want me to remove it?"

"Sure."

"It's going to hurt."

Josefina just shrugged and even smiled, half dazed by the fact of being so close to him again. She saw him focus in the wounded ring finger, gently squeezing the skin around the tiny wooden dagger. Those lines hinted to appear on his forehead, the ones he sometimes got when he focused on something, like now, fixing her finger, sometimes you have to suffer first for things to get better.

So, for the duration of the procedure, she stared at him.

Until he stared back.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again. That maybe you'd died."

He held her hand between his. The splinter was out.

"I never wanted to cause you this, Josefina, my love. I'm sorry."

"I don't say it to blame… anyone, or to blame you. I said it just because I felt it and now I want you to know that I feel… the opposite. Now I feel that we're both… alive."

This is the embrace she'd wished for, the both of them safe in an imaginary place where no one would ever get them. This was the kiss she'd dreamed of a million times, the beard was a new addition but she liked how it felt. This is how she'd remembered his body next to hers, his warmth, imagined his hands again and his voice that told her precisely this:

"I love you."

(...)

What time it was, where they were exactly, what they would do next or where they would go… were the last things on her mind. The first thing was the present moment.

The lamp's oil had consumed almost entirely, leaving only a dim glow that drew his face, that allowed her to see the wound in his arm, close the shoulder; it was more a scar at this point.

"Remember what I told you when I asked you to marry me." It wasn't a question; he knew she remembered: "That Zorro's problems wouldn't get to you. They did. I failed you."

"Diego, Zorro can be… an extraordinary hero, he can achieve great feats, do incredible things. But he's human. You're human, like we all are, and sometimes things get out of hand no matter how hard we try. We're not perfect, there are too many variables-"

"Yes but this isn't what I promised you, or what I'd want for you, the way you risked yourself. You know, I even thought about going away, alone-"

"..."

"-so you could be safe at home, so you wouldn't have to be in danger, but I knew you'd never forgive me for something like that. Deep down, I knew you could handle this, that you wouldn't hesitate. Of course, I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you, so… a decision had to be made."

"And that decision brought us here and now."

"Anyway… this is not what I offered you when we got married, having to run away and hide."

"You just have bad memory."

"Hm?"

"It is you who doesn't remember what we promised: in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, right? Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember."

"Well, there you have it. I didn't marry the comfort, the dresses or the house, or the trip to Spain or the money. I married you and I married you knowing you're Zorro and knowing something like this could happen. It was unlikely but possible. And I'm going to be with you in this and no matter what, because I love you."

Diego brought her closer, if possible, and kissed her forehead.

"Unlikely but possible… I always knew it, though I wouldn't want to accept it. That's why I'm glad I prepared for the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"A while ago I buried some money at the cliff, in case something like this happened. There's enough so we can have a wide scope for action."

"Like what?"

"I have a friend who is a ship captain, he's completely trustworthy. I spoke to him already and he's agreed to take us to France. They set sail in four weeks."

France! This one hadn't occurred to her. It was suddenly like the timid little light from the lamp brightened it all up in an instant and opened the door to something new and unknown that would welcome them. He carried on:

"They won't look for us there. We understand the language and also, I know there's a friend from college that lives in the south. I'd trust him with my life too and we could count on him if necessary. What do you think?"

As always, everything was planned out. An answer, a solution.

"I like it."

"Yes?"

"Yes, it even… makes me a bit excited, I always thought places like France were as far away as another planet so, going there… yes. Let's go."

"Just like that, let's go?"

"What else do we need? Let's just go."

"Let's just go, then."

All of the previous time with no kissing had to be compensated. So, another one, as he covered her better with the blanket weaved by the people from the community; it's in the darkest hours of the morning that it gets colder.

"How's my father?"

"He's…" Bad. Sad. Obsessed with work. "He misses you a lot. He did everything he could to find a way, he talked to the Governor, to everybody, to the other ranchers, but nothing. They… tried to help too."

"They did?"

"At first, yes, but then they got scared, I think. Your father bickered with them all and called them traitors."

"..."

"And Sergeant García, I haven't told you." She described their encounter at the shed: "I called him traitor too and you see, he let me go."

"Oh and I see it, trust me. Josefina: it was him who let me out."

"What?"

"He himself opened the cell door. I'll never forget his words: from here on, you're on your own, don Diego, but as far as I'm concerned, I won't just sit and watch you die."

It made sense. And she'd treated him so bad… but how was she to know…

"I think you… I think Zorro has more friends than enemies."
"Though the enemies may seem more powerful. But he'll return some day."

"Zorro will return? No. He can't return if he never leaves. As long as people keep waiting for him and talking about him, and I'm sure they will, Zorro will continue to be here."

"Hm. Have you fallen in love with Zorro, señora, by chance?"

After two months without a visit to the barber, his hair was a tad longer; she could notice it when running her fingers through it.

"Are you jealous, don Diego?"

"Terribly."

(...)

Compared to the two worst months of her life, recently concluded, the following days were a bliss, a 180 degree turn. The total population was of about fifty or sixty people, and they all seemed to carry a peaceful life, with no rush or grand fears, just attentive to keeping their village hidden from the rest of the world at all times. Early in the morning, Diego would go to hunt with the men, and he always came back with good game, which gained him the praise of the others. The rest of the day he spent it in different tasks, such as making spears or helping them repair tents. On her side, it wasn't difficult for Josefina to get used to cooking every day again, tough this time, with more rudimentary tools. The women taught her how to weave, and even if she put all of her effort into it, the progress wasn't too huge. When dusk arrived, everyone got together to eat around the campfire, while someone usually sang a melody probably from the times those rock formations that surrounded them were still stardust. Some clapped or danced, and a brown little dog that had been adopted by the indians, same as them, came to lie down close by, so Josefina would rub its belly again.

"What do you think don Alejandro thought? When they realized I was gone."

Diego knew his father well: "I think he was glad. He knows we're well and together."

"Yes, I thought so too."

Josefina felt better in the tent than she had in the house at the hacienda. Not that she had anything against it, but it reminded her the of the endless days of fear and solitude. Here, in the simple tent with walls that a strong wind would be able to knock off, was home.

(...)

It was in the early morning of a Saturday, Diego was keeping track of the days, when it was time to pick up their stuff. A couple of bundles was all they packed. He put his fake hair back on and for her, the girls had made a wig that was pretty much blonde, using natural dyes and the fur of God knows what animals. She was about to put it in place when her stomach turned.

He hurried to her side, held her hair out of the breakfast's way.

"Are you all right?"

"Uh huh." She stayed still, kept her eyes shut for a while, waiting for her body to go back to normal: "Yes… I'm sorry. I think I'm a bit nervous."

He saw her put everything in order, fix her hair, put on the wig, pack up what was left. He didn't know the lines on his forehead were suddenly visible. Besides books of history, geography, chemistry, language, French, Philosophy and Mathematics, he'd also read a couple of volumes on medicine. He knew right away that that was no nervousness. And he felt happy and scared at the same time, because Zorro gets scared too, but he faces the fear and moves forward.

Everyone gathered to say goodbye.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us." In fact, and being well aware it could be taken as an offense, he'd attempted to offer some gold coins to the chief, in order to compensate for any expenses they could have caused. The old man rejected them, of course.

"But you have. Zorro saved our people one time. Now our people save Zorro. And his family."

Josefina didn't notice the tone the chief put in that last word. But Diego did.

"Thank you all."

She thanked them too. Soon, they were both blindfolded and on Tornado's back, being led back to the outside world.

(...)

They had to leave the faithful black horse with the indians, because anyone could recognize Zorro's steed if it was just left to roam around. They exchanged it for a brown one, which took them through the woods and areas where no one ever traveled, as close to the port as possible.

They waited for midnight in a place that was like a rock shelter on the side of a hill.

Finally, he heard the signal he'd been waiting for. It wasn't easy to trust someone, let alone put Josefina's safety on someone else's hands. But they didn't have another choice and besides, his instinct had rarely… actually, it had failed him only once.

The captain himself showed up in a cart; they hopped on, and an hour later, they were boarding.

"I know it's not much, don Diego, please forgive it's only one bunk and this tight but-"

"No, don't worry about it, it's all right."

"No one saw us arrive, not even the sailors, I made sure to send them into town tonight. You must stay in here at all times and should only open the door when I knock like this:"

Three, one, three, two knocks.

"Understood."

"You have food and water in there for over a month, not the most appetizing, though. After we pass Cape Horn, we'll stop for supplies and I'll be able to give you some more provisions."

"Julian, I don't know how to thank you for this-"

"Nonsense. I don't know if you remember, or if you know it, señora, but Zorro saved the lives of my wife and child once, and my own life in another occasion. And if it wasn't enough, don Alejandro kept my business from going bankrupt few years ago. A lifetime wouldn't be enough to pay you back. This is the least I can do."

They'd set sail at dawn. Through the porthole, there was only blue blackness.

Diego made sure the door was properly locked. She sat on the bunk.

Everything that could go wrong flashed through her mind: the 10 thousand dollars reward being more appealing than the feeling of gratitude, for the captain; that a sailor or somebody could have seen them and rat them out; that there was a mutiny and they'd get thrown overboard or sold as slaves in Siberia; that there was a storm and the ship sank or was attacked by a whale or by pirates or, worse, inspected by some nosy customs; that they ran out of food and no one could bring them more. However, she had to crumple all of that like a paper ball and throw it out. She had to keep trusting. Not in the captain or in luck, but in Diego. And she knew she could.

He came to sit by her side and held her hand. Everything was dark.

"I had never been on the sea."

"It's not the trip to Spain I promised you, though."

"But we're together, the two of us."

Or the three of us, he thought. He didn't want to worry her with that until there was no doubt.

A kiss. For the road.

The fatigue from the trip made her fall asleep. He covered her, fixed a couple of blankets on the floor and lied down. The Oceana, still anchored in the bay, oscillated softly with the tide.

A while later, he was about to fall asleep too, when he felt her by his side.

"What happened?" he held her, as she rested her head on his chest.

"Hm?"

"Why did you come down?"

"I'm better here."

On Sunday, June 10th, 1821 at 6:28 in the morning, Josefina and Diego de la Vega departed towards France. The day would be clear, the sea, calm, and Los Ángeles and the hacienda, behind, far way.

END.

Note 1: when I originally finished writing this chap, I was crying like a baby, omg. Guess it's not sad as such, but it made me really emotional.

Note 2: I called the natives "indians" cause that's how they called them in the series, I think; at least they did in Spanish.

Note 3: I didn't check if it was a good idea to emigrate to France in 1821 (wars? conflicts?) But let's imagine it was.

Note 4: I have a confession to make: when I first conceived this story, my idea was for them not to only capture Diego/Zorro, but to get him killed off :-O Hence the name of the story, and then Josefina was supposed to stay miserable forever. But when I was in chapter 4 or 5, I realized I couldn't do it and didn't want to. So I made up the whole part about him escaping and whatnot.

Note 5: Other subplots occurred to me, such as Bernardo being put in jail for being an accomplice. But I didn't find a way to fit this in the rest of the story.

Note 6: Guy Williams's boat was named "Oceana", so the name of this ship is a tiny little homage to that.

Note 7: the epilogue is left!

Note 8: Thanks for reading!