"Halo, Victoria," Diego said with a smile.

Victoria's answering grin was bright, showing all her joy. For the last week her friend had been walking into her tavern with a small smile and wave. She watched as he slowly began eating more and talking with the other tavern patrons. His eyes remained haunted, but he no longer looked like a ghost.

After preparing a tray, she walked over to his table where Sergeant Mendoza had joined him. Both men looked thankful--Mendoza more so, of course--as she placed bowls of stew in front of them, along with an entire loaf of fresh-baked bread. "An entire loaf?" Diego teased her.

"Well, I knew how much the Sergeant likes my bread," she responded. Mendoza winked at her, letting her know that he understood. They both wanted Diego to begin eating enough to regain the weight he had lost.

He seemed to understand her intentions as well. "Thank you."

Victoria, without thought, reached over and rubbed her hand lightly through his hair. The looks of surprise on Diego and Mendoza's faces brought her back to her senses. She removed her hand with a sad smile. "I've missed you," was all she said. Diego opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped. Smiling softly, he nodded and then turned his attention to his lunch.

Walking into her kitchen, Victoria's thoughts remained on the caballero. She looked at her hand after she put the tray down. She stared at it for moment like she had never seen it, and then she smiled. *You did enjoy the feel of is hairs caressing your fingers*. Victoria ignored the voice. Today was too good of a day to worry about the confused thoughts and feelings she had for two men.

As for the other love of her life, Zorro had been in the plaza earlier today to deliver some cattle rustlers, managing to leave without giving a single lancer a chance to fire at him. For the first time in over a month, he had looked in her direction. She saw the sadness in his eyes, but he too was beginning to act normal.

She started washing dishes, thinking about the two men who meant the world to her. Both had caused her countless nights of worry, but it seemed as if she could finally begin sleeping through the night again. They both seemed to be handling whatever problems were bothering them.

*Mmm, isn't interesting that they both started acting strangely at the same time, and then they both start to begin acting right at the same time. Maybe . . .*

The "maybe" was a thought that had plagued her more lately. Like she always did when the voice inside her mind made the suggestion, she told it that it was being silly and slammed the mental doors. It would be quiet now. At least, for a little while . . .

* * * * *

Alejandro de la Vega's smile was almost as bright as the afternoon sunlight shining down on Los Angeles. Today was a marvelous day. Diego had eaten a breakfast worthy of a man his size. His prized heifer had just given birth, and a letter had arrived from his lawyer telling him that the return on one of his investments was more than fifty percent.

Then, he had come to the pueblo where the news only got better. Don Tores had sent a letter saying that he was coming home. Don Fernando's daughter had accepted the hand of good ranchero from Santa Barbara, and the name of Zorro was on everyone's lips. Most of the citizens had been unconcerned about the outlaw's recent behavior, but it had been noted. The recklessness seemed to be at an end. What a glorious day!

Don Alejandro waved across the plaza at one of his vaquero. Lopez was becoming an excellent ranch hand, so Miquel had entrusted him with the duty of coming to the pueblo to pick up the supplies arriving on the coach. Lopez began walking over towards Don Alejandro. He stopped suddenly, his smile leaving. In its place was a look of confusion and fear.

Don Alejandro stopped walking and then slowly turned to see what the problem might be. At that same time, he heard the thundering of horses and feared that maybe today was not a good day after all. What met his eyes were soldiers, lots of soldiers, riding hard in front of a coach. It was not the usual stagecoach that Los Angeles, but a personal coach. No one in Los Angeles, not even the de la Vegas, bothered with the expense of maintaining such a vehicle.

He knew of several men in Monterey who bothered for the sake of appearance, and there were a few of them who had the power to ask for a military escort. However, there were even fewer who would be able to get an entire garrison of troops. Don Alejandro could only think of one man. Would the governor's visit bring good news or bad for the people of Los Angeles?

As the coach came to a stop in front of the alcalde's office, the plaza began to fill with people. Most of them ventured out from the various buildings in curiosity, alerted to its presence by the noise of the escort. DeSoto stepped out to see what all the commotion was about and came to a standstill when he saw the governor's emblem on the side of the coach. Don Alejendro's approach stopped when the caballero noticed the sneer on the man's face. How could the alcalde dare show such disrespect towards the governor?

DeSoto's face smoothed to a blank expression when Pablo Vicente Solá stepped from his coach. Saluting, the alcalde welcomed the governor to the humble pueblo. Solá didn't bother to return the salute. He turned to his colonel and said two words that made everyone in the plaza silent in shock for a moment: "Arrest him!"

"You can't do this!" yelled the alcalde as the Colonel's men began chaining him.

Solá grinned, leaning forward until his nose almost touched DeSoto's. "There you are most mistaken, my dear friend. All of your amigos have been arrested, so if you are expecting their help, you will be waiting for a very long time. Of course," he said with a larger smile. "I am still debating what to do with you. Treason is punishable by death, but I can also send you to Madrid so that my dear friend can take care of you. The King has heard many stories about you lately, since your friends' arrests. All of the letters of protest this man--" The governor pointed towards Don Alejandro. "Has sent over the years were, for some mysterious reason, in the possession of my Lieutenant Governor. We found them after his recent arrest and death. I made sure to send them on to Madrid."

Walking away from the terrified man, Solá appeared to be in deep thought. "Yes, I think I will send you on to Madrid for your trial. Don Alejandro's letters, along with the rest, should arrive there not long before you." He turned and walked slowly back to where DeSoto stood, chained and gagged. "I've heard they have come up some very *interesting* ways for traitors to die," he taunted with a smile.

Don Alejandro remembered a scene played out in this same plaza, months before, a scene he wanted to forget. He watched DeSoto begin to shake, and he felt sorry for the man. No man deserved to be split in parts by running horses, and Don Alejandro planned on sending another letter to tell Fernando that DeSoto had not been an extremely cruel alcalde, at least not until recently. He feared it may do no good, because if he was understanding the governor correctly, DeSoto had taken part in planning a coup d'état, something that Ferdinand would find unforgivable, especially after the last uprising at home.

"Take him away!" the governor yelled, waving his hand. The people began to cheer as he planned. Don Alejandro thought that the governor should think of a career on stage. From everything that Don Alejandro had heard and seen, the man did enjoy his melodrama.

"I think he should consider a career on stage," his son's whispered words echoed on his own thoughts. Alejandro turned his head to smile at him. He nodded his head when he noticed Victoria and Mendoza standing next to Diego. Since their talk after his return from the cave, father and son were growing more comfortable around each other. It was a change that Alejandro welcomed with open arms and a heart full of joy.

"My thoughts exactly!" He whispered back as the crowd applauded loudly at something the governor was saying.

It was then that he noticed everyone in the plaza had turned to look at him. He shifted, uneasy, thinking that he hadn't spoken that loudly. "Well, Don Alejandro, will you do me the honor?" Alejandro looked into Solá's eyes and saw amusement reflected from them. He suspected the man knew that Don Alejandro's attention had been elsewhere. "Will you do me the honor of accepting the post of alcalde?"

Alejandro's jaw dropped, and he put his hand on his chest, unknowingly echoing his earlier motions when asked to be temporary alcalde of Los Angeles. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Solá answered.

"What about the King? He appointed DeSoto, surely he will want to appoint his replacement?" Alejandro's mind was racing with the possibilities. With him as alcalde, the people could receive a fair government. Even more important to him, his son could begin living his life without his many masks.

Solá laughed. "Exactly the kind of answer the King would want! What loyalty! The King has left it up to me to appoint all new alcaldes for this area. He no longer wishes to be bothered with the task in Madrid. Besides, I know more of what each area needs for a leader."

Alejandro de la Vega stood proudly in the plaza and accepted the position. The roar of the crowd's approval was amazing. It was even louder than the one that accompanied the alcalde to his jail cell.

* * * * *

He sat in his jail cell. At least, it was how he felt. Don Alejandro sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his strained eyes. He reached forward and lit another candle off his old one. It would soon be burning out anyway. He spent long hours in this office, struggling to get the pueblo records in some kind of shape.

DeSoto had been an excellent record keeper in many ways. He desire for neatness drove him to keep perfect records of births, deaths, and land exchanges. He also maintained an excellent accounting of money spent. Unfortunately, much of that book was a lie. Alejandro struggled to find out where the money had really gone, and he sometimes doubted he would find where all of it had disappeared to over the years.

A light sound alerted him to another's presence. He pulled out his pistol, walking slowly towards the door leading to the jail. He opened the door quickly, aiming his gun. He lowered it when he noticed it was Zorro, and it looked like he had been busy tonight. Don Alejandro walked over and looked at the unconscious bandits lying inside on the beds. "Mendoza and his men." He felt rather than saw Zorro's nod. "Amazing, isn't it? Our Mendoza is such a good man, and this man, who happens to have the same last name, is a cruel animal."

"Names don't determine how someone acts, Señor."

The alcalde smiled. "I know. It's just one of those ironies of life that I've always wondered about, more so recently since--" He stopped speaking, and Zorro did not ask him to continue. Everyone in the pueblo knew about the recent discovery and death of Don Alejandro's son, a twin of Diego.

"Congratulations on your recent appointment. The governor, at last, showed some sense in his choice." Zorro's breath sounded labored in the cool night air.

Alejandro did laugh at that comment. "I'm sure sense had anything to do with it. I think it had more to do with keeping me out of his hair."

"Either way, it was a smart choice." The new alcalde turned to look at his son, flinching when he noticed a damp spot on his chest. In the moonlights, with the dark cloth, it was hard to see what it was, but from the labored breathing and the slow movement of Zorro, Alejandro suspected that the man was injured.

"You're hurt. Let me send Mendoza to get Doctor Hernandez," he began, pushing the outlaw towards his office.

Zorro refused, shaking his head. "You forget, alcalde, but I am an outlaw, just as these men here in your jail are."

Alejandro stood tall. "I would hardly classify you as the same as these animals!"

"I would."

He caught his breath, his heart breaking at the pain in those two words. He looked at the lowered head, the slumped shoulders, and wondered how his son could even begin to think that he was anything like these men. He pushed the taller man into his office, ordering him to sit down. He poured water from a pitcher into a bowl. Then, he found a rag and some bandages in the old alcalde's quarters. Before walking back into the room where Zorro awaited him, he stopped, struggling to get control of his emotions. It would do his son no good to find his father crying.

"Remove your shirt," he ordered in a tone that accepted no argument as he walked through the door. He could not take the chance. Thankfully, Zorro began to unbutton his shirt, slowly removing the garment from his injured shoulder.

Don Alejandro winced when he saw the deep scratches on the young man's chest and the deeper one on his shoulder. He also noticed many scares, silent reminders of old injuries--too many injuries to be on such a young body. Carefully, he began to cleanse the wound.

"Señora Flores left today," Zorro said finally.

Don Alejandro continued to wash the wound, giving his son a chance to say more. When several minutes had passed, he answered. "Yes, she did, Zorro. I'm surprised she stayed this long." Everyone had expected her to flee from the area the next day, running from the horrible memories. She showed everybody a strength, a courage, and a desire to fulfill duty that awed the pueblo of Los Angeles. Why her departure bothered Diego, he had no idea. She had been a married woman until that horrible day, and his son's feeling towards Victoria were well known and very deep.

"I was in the plaza the day . . . the day . . ." Zorro struggled to catch his breath. "The day her son died."

Alejandro began wrapping the bandage around the wound, nodding. He remembered Diego standing next to him, his face echoing the horror everyone felt. Personally, he had felt sick for days afterwards. He felt his stomach churn again just thinking about the day. "Were you?"

Zorro slowly nodded his head. "I wasn't in--" he looked at his clothes. "This outfit, but I was there."

"Many men were there, Zorro, including myself." Alejandro knew he would never forget.

"I--I practically slit that boy's throat myself." The voice was flat, stating it as fact, like one tells someone that two plus two is four.

Alejandro dropped the sodden rag onto the floor, glad that he was not carrying anything else. He turned to look at his son in horror. "What? That boy's throat was cut open by his father. No one else."

Eyes full of tears looked at him. "I could have stopped Señor Flores; I wasn't standing far away, but I was afraid that people would notice."

Suddenly, everything made sense to Don Alejandro. He should have realized what his son was thinking. "I was standing right next to him myself, Zorro. I didn't stop him either, and I wasn't afraid that people would at last see behind a mask. Why didn't I move?"

Zorro shook his head, "It's not your--"

Alejandro's rage exploded. "It's everyone's responsibility!" He sighed, regaining his control. He thought about that day. It had seemed like a wonderful day. Diego had been laughing most of the morning. Señora Flores had been making one of her rare appearances in town. "Diego played with him. That boy had the most enchanting laugh. He was amazed at every coin Diego 'pulled' from his ears. I saw his father storming into the plaza. I knew the man was angry, but--" He shook his head sadly. "I never expected . . . I remember watching those little feet carrying that tiny body over to his father as fast he could run."

Alejandro sat down in the chair across his desk, lost in thought. "I expected Señor Flores to do what I did when little Diego ran to my arms. My Elena used to say that little Diego could turn a raging bull into a pussycat. When he drew out that dagger and held it to his throat . . . I thought it was joke, a horrible, sick joke."

"Señora Flores screamed."

Alejandro let the tears fall, noticing that the bottom of his son's mask was growing wet with his tears. "I remember . . . I remember her pleading with him, trying to explain that she only came for supplies, that she wasn't leaving him." None of her words had touched the man though. He was loco, so out of his mind with rage and drink, that he had lost touch with whatever reality he had known. Her pleas, along with everyone else's, seemed to only to enrage him more, until finally he had . . .

"Diego and Doctor Hernandez struggled to stop the bleeding, but . . . It was too much from such a little body," his voice weakly finished.

Zorro sobbed. "I should have stopped him."

"There was nothing anyone could do after he had that knife on that throat. He had his back next to a wall. If anyone had approached him--"

Zorro stood up angrily. His chair fell to the ground. "I should have stopped him!"

Alejandro stood, his anger and frustration matching his son's. He slammed his hands against the desk, leaning across it. "You are not God, Diego!"

His son's head snapped back, and his eyes widened in surprise. Don Alejandro might later regret his slip of the tongue, but right now he was struggling to save his son's soul. "You are a human being, and a rather wonderful one at that. I look at you, and wonder how such a man could come from my loins. The horrible thing, Diego, about being human, is that we can't solve every problem. I know that has been your role for so long that you think, somehow, that you can fix everything. You can't! You couldn't save that child, Diego, and you couldn't save that man. Something was twisted inside of him, and maybe, if we had known them better, we could have seen that and saved that little boy earlier. But in the plaza? No, we couldn't. It was already too late."

Alejandro wiped away his tears, first from one cheek and then the other. "You couldn't save him, and you are not responsible. Señor Flores murdered his son. The blood is on his hands, Diego, not yours."

Victoria's gasp alerted them to her presence. She stood in the doorway, a tray of food in her hands. Slowly, her eyes focused only on the man in black, she walked into the room. Placing the tray on the desk, Victoria's eyes moved over Diego's body, taking in the recent injuries and the old ones. She reached up, hesitant, and untied the mask. She dropped it onto the floor and sobbed.

Reaching up, she drew his head down towards hers. She cried, even as she began kissing away his tears. "So that little voice was right," she laughed, confusing the older caballero. Diego didn't seem to understand the reference either.

Her lips met his, and Don Alejandro looked away in pleased embarrassment. Victoria pulled away, and gazed at the man she had loved for so long. "There are days, Diego, that I still don't believe it happened. I never thought he would do it, even as I watched the blade of that dagger drag across his son's throat. To me, a father is someone who loves you." She looked over at Don Alejandro and smiled. She took his hands into hers and softly kissed them. "You know that, Diego. A father's hands mean love and not death. I know you. You didn't believe he would do it, either."

Very slowly, Diego raised his hand and caressed her face. From her reaction, Alejandro thought it had been a long since his son had touched the woman he loved. Victoria began bawling, and Diego held her close, his tears mingling with hers.