Author's Note: I am not entirely certain about this section. It seems, for lack of a better word, a bit schmaltzy to me. I just thought that, even though he is extremely mature, Felipe is still very young to be the only one to know Zorro's secret. I just wanted to explore what that might mean for him in a situation more serious than the alcalde's usual, easily solved escapades. That is what this scene is supposed to be, though I am not entirely certain it worked out.
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Felipe could tell that Diego had no wish to talk as they left the pueblo. The recent increase in raids had forced them to bring men along for protection and that would force him to give Diego his quiet, but he had no intention of letting things go once they got home.
And he needed the time, himself, to sort out just what he felt. He bounced between anger with Victoria, with Diego, with the alcalde, even with himself. By the time they'd reached the cool privacy of the hacienda, the mix had simmered to a general frustration, specific to everyone and no one.
Maria and Buena brought fruit and a crisp white wine to wash down the dust of the road. Diego thanked them with his infallible courtesy and they were left, finally, alone.
"The melon is quite good," Diego said, nothing in his voice beyond the light pleasure you'd expect from such a statement. "You should try it."
Felipe spun, and had he been a year younger he might have thrown the cursed melon across the room. *Don't . . . just don't. You don't have to. Not with me. *
He looked up into Diego's face for the first time and nearly flinched. Surprised regret took hold of the older man's expression, but beneath it was no subterfuge, no attempt to conceal whatever thoughts Diego might have over the scene with Victoria. There was only a pervading sort of resignation and a deeper and more enduring sense of fatigue than Diego generally allowed him to see.
"I do know that, my friend, truly I do," Diego said. There was apology in his tone, that such words even had to be said.
He looked as if he were going to say more, but Felipe waved him to silence and Diego, being Diego, gave him that.
*I know * he signed finally. *I'm sorry. *
Diego smiled but didn't speak. Knowing Felipe as well as he did, he would know that this wasn't all of it.
*It's just not fair. * Felipe clutched at the baggy cloth of his pants if only to keep from tearing at his hair. He knew he already seemed a five year old child, acting this way, and didn't think the image needed any further help.
Diego's smile twisted slightly, not with bitterness precisely, but with regret and a certain irony that hadn't been there when he returned from Spain.
"Victoria is a uniquely honest woman, and she trusts that those she considers her friends will treat her the same," he said. He looked up at Felipe. "You are right of course, as always. It has never been fair that I abuse that trust and show her a lie, but even after so many years I am unable to think of how to right that wrong."
Some of Felipe's frustration was robbed by a familiar tide of exasperation. How Diego could manage to be so very insightful but so incredibly _wrong_ at once?
What he'd said was entirely true. It wasn't fair to Victoria. Victoria was fierce and loyal and brave and half the time Felipe imagined himself nearly as much in love with her as Diego. All the town knew she loved Zorro, but Felipe, always quiet, not always noticed, had seen some of the looks she'd given Diego. It _wasn't_ fair that she should be forced to choose between two men who were in fact just different faces of the same person.
But that wasn't what Felipe had meant, and how Diego didn't know that was a mystery. Well, no, he was Diego, that's how. In other words, an idiot.
*You know that's not what I meant * Felipe signed, spelling it out slowly so his apparently challenged friend could follow.
Diego chuckled slightly and his eyes sparked with an appreciative humor that was entirely Zorro. "Yes, I did, I must admit. All evidence to the contrary, I am not entirely lacking intelligence. I felt, however, that it needed to be said."
Felipe shook his head. There was much that needed to be said. That was the whole problem. Years and years of it and Diego could barely tolerate acknowledging its existence, let alone bringing it out into the open. He started to say as much but one look at Diego's tired face again halted him.
He was telling himself that he was doing this for Diego, that forcing Diego into letting go of that perpetual, infuriating gentility and voicing the frustrations which must haunt him could only be a good thing. But that wasn't true and he knew it. What good would it do for Diego to admit Victoria had the power to hurt him? How would it help for him to acknowledge how much he would like to remove all the masks that separated him from his father and say 'Here, this is man who is your son'?
It wouldn't help at all, no matter how tempting.
Because he couldn't remove those masks, couldn't allow the two people who meant the most to him to see the truth, no matter how much it was costing him. Alejandro and Victoria both were too honorable to allow Diego to fight their battles for him. It was easier to allow Zorro, a beloved hero but one without a real face, to brave such dangers. And in their transparent, honest faces, the alcalde would read in an instant the truth they'd kept hidden for so many years.
Diego stood up and gripped Felipe's shoulder. Felipe wasn't surprised. It would take someone far less perceptive than Diego to miss the turmoil that must be so clearly stamped upon him.
Diego's fingers tightened for a moment and then relaxed slightly. "What is it? I know I have been distracted lately, but I _am_ listening now."
Of course he was. He only had the ranch and the town and Victoria and the alcalde to worry about already. No problem listening to the whining of a self-involved child.
*You have to stay here tonight * Felipe signed in a rash, knowing it was selfish, but feeling immensely tired of being the only one to say such things.
Diego moved his hand from Felipe's shoulder to ruffle his hair slightly. "You know I cannot do that."
*Yes, yes you can. You can't keep doing this. You're much too tired. * Felipe signed, dislodging the hand and shaking his head violently.
Diego made no argument, probably because there was none to be made. Every day Felipe watched as the fatigue deepened, and yet still Zorro rode out nearly every night and every morning Diego rose to ride the ranch with Juan. The infestation of bandits showed no sign of lessening no matter how many of them Zorro rounded up and as the weeks went by, still the alcalde did nothing about it. And so Diego went on as he had, night after night, day after day.
Diego raised a hand for silence, but once started, Felipe found he could not stop.
*No one could fight this alone, not even you. These men won't stop. The alcalde won't stop. It's no use. * Diego reached out to him again, but Felipe pushed away his hand and turned away. Diego wouldn't listen to him no matter how right he was. No one could win this fight. There was no sense in keeping on; to go on as Diego did in the face of such an irredeemable situation was stupid and futile and dangerous and insane . . . and simply amazing.
Felipe had always felt a fierce and joyful pride in being Diego's friend, in watching Zorro frustrate the schemes of thieves and alcaldes alike time and time again, but he didn't think he'd ever felt more pride than now in watching Diego wage this fight he must know he was slowly losing.
He turned around as he heard Diego's step closer to him, but he still couldn't look up at the older man.
*You're going to get yourself killed. * He realized that there were tears flowing down his cheeks and it dawned on him belatedly that this was what this argument had been about from the beginning. Zorro might be an immortal legend, but Diego, beneath that mask, was not. And not even Diego could carry on this fight forever. Felipe was all there was to help him, and he was just a boy, an orphan, powerless. Not even his handicaps had ever made him feel this inadequate.
"Felipe," Diego said gently, taking another step closer.
*No, no, * Felipe signed pushing his arms away again, sobbing now as a child would. *They're going to kill you, you know that. The alcalde hates you. He _hates_ you. Why should he do anything when the bandits are doing his work for him? And what will we do after they finally manage it, did you ever think of that? *
Now Diego did brush his weakly protesting arms aside and draw him into a tight hold. Felipe gave in and wrapped his arms around Diego's chest almost in a death grip. Felipe knew that beneath the finery Diego wore the bruises Zorro's adventures left him, but he made no sound of protest even though the tightness of Felipe's grip must be paining him.
Instead he just tightened his own hold and let Felipe let out his long denied frustration upon his shoulder. Felipe, who had not been a true child in a while, quickly suppressed his tears, but he couldn't quite bring himself to break this hold. It was rare, from someone of Diego's temperament, and Diego was so warm and solid and alive, standing there.
"I am so very sorry," Diego said. "I will promise to be careful, though I know this is not nearly enough."
It was all he had to give, and usually from Diego that was more than enough. This time it wasn't, but what could Felipe do? There were no words that could persuade Diego to leave those less able to protect themselves to their own devices, none that Felipe knew anyway.
So he nodded and broke the hold, though Diego left his arm slung across his shoulder and surprised him by keeping it there as he drew them to sit on the couch. Diego had a strong sense of dignity, inherited from his even more reserved father, and such displays did not entirely come easily to him. But he left the arm there even so.
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Felipe could tell that Diego had no wish to talk as they left the pueblo. The recent increase in raids had forced them to bring men along for protection and that would force him to give Diego his quiet, but he had no intention of letting things go once they got home.
And he needed the time, himself, to sort out just what he felt. He bounced between anger with Victoria, with Diego, with the alcalde, even with himself. By the time they'd reached the cool privacy of the hacienda, the mix had simmered to a general frustration, specific to everyone and no one.
Maria and Buena brought fruit and a crisp white wine to wash down the dust of the road. Diego thanked them with his infallible courtesy and they were left, finally, alone.
"The melon is quite good," Diego said, nothing in his voice beyond the light pleasure you'd expect from such a statement. "You should try it."
Felipe spun, and had he been a year younger he might have thrown the cursed melon across the room. *Don't . . . just don't. You don't have to. Not with me. *
He looked up into Diego's face for the first time and nearly flinched. Surprised regret took hold of the older man's expression, but beneath it was no subterfuge, no attempt to conceal whatever thoughts Diego might have over the scene with Victoria. There was only a pervading sort of resignation and a deeper and more enduring sense of fatigue than Diego generally allowed him to see.
"I do know that, my friend, truly I do," Diego said. There was apology in his tone, that such words even had to be said.
He looked as if he were going to say more, but Felipe waved him to silence and Diego, being Diego, gave him that.
*I know * he signed finally. *I'm sorry. *
Diego smiled but didn't speak. Knowing Felipe as well as he did, he would know that this wasn't all of it.
*It's just not fair. * Felipe clutched at the baggy cloth of his pants if only to keep from tearing at his hair. He knew he already seemed a five year old child, acting this way, and didn't think the image needed any further help.
Diego's smile twisted slightly, not with bitterness precisely, but with regret and a certain irony that hadn't been there when he returned from Spain.
"Victoria is a uniquely honest woman, and she trusts that those she considers her friends will treat her the same," he said. He looked up at Felipe. "You are right of course, as always. It has never been fair that I abuse that trust and show her a lie, but even after so many years I am unable to think of how to right that wrong."
Some of Felipe's frustration was robbed by a familiar tide of exasperation. How Diego could manage to be so very insightful but so incredibly _wrong_ at once?
What he'd said was entirely true. It wasn't fair to Victoria. Victoria was fierce and loyal and brave and half the time Felipe imagined himself nearly as much in love with her as Diego. All the town knew she loved Zorro, but Felipe, always quiet, not always noticed, had seen some of the looks she'd given Diego. It _wasn't_ fair that she should be forced to choose between two men who were in fact just different faces of the same person.
But that wasn't what Felipe had meant, and how Diego didn't know that was a mystery. Well, no, he was Diego, that's how. In other words, an idiot.
*You know that's not what I meant * Felipe signed, spelling it out slowly so his apparently challenged friend could follow.
Diego chuckled slightly and his eyes sparked with an appreciative humor that was entirely Zorro. "Yes, I did, I must admit. All evidence to the contrary, I am not entirely lacking intelligence. I felt, however, that it needed to be said."
Felipe shook his head. There was much that needed to be said. That was the whole problem. Years and years of it and Diego could barely tolerate acknowledging its existence, let alone bringing it out into the open. He started to say as much but one look at Diego's tired face again halted him.
He was telling himself that he was doing this for Diego, that forcing Diego into letting go of that perpetual, infuriating gentility and voicing the frustrations which must haunt him could only be a good thing. But that wasn't true and he knew it. What good would it do for Diego to admit Victoria had the power to hurt him? How would it help for him to acknowledge how much he would like to remove all the masks that separated him from his father and say 'Here, this is man who is your son'?
It wouldn't help at all, no matter how tempting.
Because he couldn't remove those masks, couldn't allow the two people who meant the most to him to see the truth, no matter how much it was costing him. Alejandro and Victoria both were too honorable to allow Diego to fight their battles for him. It was easier to allow Zorro, a beloved hero but one without a real face, to brave such dangers. And in their transparent, honest faces, the alcalde would read in an instant the truth they'd kept hidden for so many years.
Diego stood up and gripped Felipe's shoulder. Felipe wasn't surprised. It would take someone far less perceptive than Diego to miss the turmoil that must be so clearly stamped upon him.
Diego's fingers tightened for a moment and then relaxed slightly. "What is it? I know I have been distracted lately, but I _am_ listening now."
Of course he was. He only had the ranch and the town and Victoria and the alcalde to worry about already. No problem listening to the whining of a self-involved child.
*You have to stay here tonight * Felipe signed in a rash, knowing it was selfish, but feeling immensely tired of being the only one to say such things.
Diego moved his hand from Felipe's shoulder to ruffle his hair slightly. "You know I cannot do that."
*Yes, yes you can. You can't keep doing this. You're much too tired. * Felipe signed, dislodging the hand and shaking his head violently.
Diego made no argument, probably because there was none to be made. Every day Felipe watched as the fatigue deepened, and yet still Zorro rode out nearly every night and every morning Diego rose to ride the ranch with Juan. The infestation of bandits showed no sign of lessening no matter how many of them Zorro rounded up and as the weeks went by, still the alcalde did nothing about it. And so Diego went on as he had, night after night, day after day.
Diego raised a hand for silence, but once started, Felipe found he could not stop.
*No one could fight this alone, not even you. These men won't stop. The alcalde won't stop. It's no use. * Diego reached out to him again, but Felipe pushed away his hand and turned away. Diego wouldn't listen to him no matter how right he was. No one could win this fight. There was no sense in keeping on; to go on as Diego did in the face of such an irredeemable situation was stupid and futile and dangerous and insane . . . and simply amazing.
Felipe had always felt a fierce and joyful pride in being Diego's friend, in watching Zorro frustrate the schemes of thieves and alcaldes alike time and time again, but he didn't think he'd ever felt more pride than now in watching Diego wage this fight he must know he was slowly losing.
He turned around as he heard Diego's step closer to him, but he still couldn't look up at the older man.
*You're going to get yourself killed. * He realized that there were tears flowing down his cheeks and it dawned on him belatedly that this was what this argument had been about from the beginning. Zorro might be an immortal legend, but Diego, beneath that mask, was not. And not even Diego could carry on this fight forever. Felipe was all there was to help him, and he was just a boy, an orphan, powerless. Not even his handicaps had ever made him feel this inadequate.
"Felipe," Diego said gently, taking another step closer.
*No, no, * Felipe signed pushing his arms away again, sobbing now as a child would. *They're going to kill you, you know that. The alcalde hates you. He _hates_ you. Why should he do anything when the bandits are doing his work for him? And what will we do after they finally manage it, did you ever think of that? *
Now Diego did brush his weakly protesting arms aside and draw him into a tight hold. Felipe gave in and wrapped his arms around Diego's chest almost in a death grip. Felipe knew that beneath the finery Diego wore the bruises Zorro's adventures left him, but he made no sound of protest even though the tightness of Felipe's grip must be paining him.
Instead he just tightened his own hold and let Felipe let out his long denied frustration upon his shoulder. Felipe, who had not been a true child in a while, quickly suppressed his tears, but he couldn't quite bring himself to break this hold. It was rare, from someone of Diego's temperament, and Diego was so warm and solid and alive, standing there.
"I am so very sorry," Diego said. "I will promise to be careful, though I know this is not nearly enough."
It was all he had to give, and usually from Diego that was more than enough. This time it wasn't, but what could Felipe do? There were no words that could persuade Diego to leave those less able to protect themselves to their own devices, none that Felipe knew anyway.
So he nodded and broke the hold, though Diego left his arm slung across his shoulder and surprised him by keeping it there as he drew them to sit on the couch. Diego had a strong sense of dignity, inherited from his even more reserved father, and such displays did not entirely come easily to him. But he left the arm there even so.
