Diego lay across Toronado's neck, barely able to keep his seat as the horse galloped along in his uncontrolled flight. Each hard impact of the horse's hooves against the hard-packed earth ricocheted through his body, making it increasingly difficult to retain consciousness. He'd heard the soldiers running after and Victoria's panicked cries, but Toronado had outpaced them all and ran his own path into the night. He kept one hand twisted in Toronado's sweat-soaked mane, trusting the horse to find the way back. The other hand he pressed tightly against his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. But Toronado's jolting gate kept tearing at the wound, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep enough pressure.
The pain was unexpected, fierce. In all his years as Zorro he'd been shot at times beyond counting, and even Mendoza's soldiers could not miss every time, but his earlier wounds had been shallow, barely worse than deep scratches. This he had no experience for.
He felt Toronado slow and then stop, but he couldn't move, could barely think. Frantic hands grabbed his shoulders. He lifted his head and saw Felipe standing beside Toronado, his face bloodless white. Beyond him was the familiar workbench and his laboratory equipment.
The cave then. Safety.
"Felipe," he said, forcing some strength into his voice for the boy's sake. He shifted his weight to dismount and would have fallen if the young man hadn't caught him and eased him down onto the floor. He started to speak again, but Felipe pressed his hand against his lips.
Now that he was off Toronado, the pain diminished, leaving him room to concentrate. The world spun less lying here on the floor. He was grateful for it, but he was so tired. He just needed to close his eyes for a minute, just one.
Felipe's slaps against his face drew him out again.
He tried focusing on his friend's face, but couldn't keep his eyes open.
Felipe shook him harder this time and briefly the world snapped into clarity.
*I don't know what to do * Felipe signed, his panic nearly making the normally crisp gestures incomprehensible. *You have to tell me what to do. *
"Help me sit up," Diego said, gasping a little at the effort. He had to remain calm, had to fight off his own panic for both their sakes. Felipe would not know what to do on his own, and each moment was ebbing what little strength he had left.
Felipe looked unsure for a moment, but then grabbed a few of Toronado's blankets and placed them behind Diego's back as gently as he could manage. Diego winced, but it was easier to breathe in that position, and, lifting his head, he could get a better look at the wound.
"It's not . . . it's not as bad as I had feared," he said, dropping his head back against the blankets. The bullet had cut a deep gouge into his right side, but it could have been worse. De Soto was a better shot than his men. If Toronado hadn't reared and thrown his aim off, the bullet would have lodged in his chest. Still, there was quite a lot of blood, and although the flow had slowed, more was seeping out by the minute.
"You'll have to clean it," he said, knowing neither of them would enjoy the process.
Felipe's shaky movements had calmed and he nodded firmly before disappearing from Diego's sight. A moment later Felipe gently but firmly pulled away Diego's hand where he'd pressed it to his side again and ripped the shirt to bare the skin beneath. Diego felt a cloth gently wiping away the majority of the blood, but then Felipe gripped his arm hard and Diego nodded. He gritted his teeth, but it didn't help much when Felipe poured alcohol over the wound to clean it properly.
Felipe finished the grim task, but didn't allow Diego's distress to distract him from applying firm enough pressure with the cloth to clean the injury thoroughly. He stopped and allowed Diego a few merciful seconds to get his breath back.
Diego closed his eyes and tried to fight the nauseating waves of pain emanating from his side, but it was a losing battle. The greyness was closing in with each breath.
"You'll have to apply a poultice," he gasped out finally. "You should use the recipe in the green box. The one from Padre Benitez."
Felipe pressed his fingers against his lips again, silencing him and he faded from true alertness again.
Some time later, possibly a moment, possibly a full half an hour, Felipe returned and began to dress the wound. Diego opened his eyes again and raised his head, thinking to help the boy, but Felipe's movements were confident and his lips were set in a grim line.
*You have to sit up. I have to be able to wrap the bandage. *
Diego struggled for a moment to comply, but then Felipe's arm was beneath him again, strong and sure. The boy propped him up against his shoulder and then began to wind the bandage tightly around his ribs. The movement was awkward as he tried to keep Diego vertical, but he managed it finally and laid Diego back down again.
*The bleeding has stopped, * Felipe signed.
Diego nodded. The pain was receding slightly, and the world was slowly righting itself once again. But the deep fatigue was weighing down on him, and his strength to fight it was fading fast.
Felipe pulled away Diego's sweat soaked mask and wiped the dirt and sweat from his face with a clean cloth.
He found and pressed Felipe's hand in thanks. "You'll have to help me up. The night's nearly gone and I have to be back in bed before the others wake up."
*Wait here* Felipe said, pressing the signs into Diego's hand as he had when he was younger, as a game.
Felipe returned in a moment. Before Diego could say anything, the boy had place an arm under his shoulders and was levering him up again.
*You have to help * he signed with his free hand.
Diego didn't bother to answer, just put his strength into regaining his feet.
The world spun again for a moment, but with Felipe's help he was able make it to his bed and remove the rest of Zorro's trappings.
His overwhelming fatigue was finally winning the battle, but there was so much he had to do. He couldn't give in, not yet.
"We won't be able to hide everything from the others," he said. "They will know something is wrong. And Victoria-Victoria! she was there, she could be in danger . . . " he started to sit up, but the pain stabbed, knife sharp, and he collapsed against the bed, gasping.
Felipe was beside him in a moment, his hands fluttering over Diego as if he feared where he could touch him without hurting him. After a moment the spasm passed, but it left him without the breath to speak.
*You have to stay there. * Felipe signed, the expression on his young face a strange mix of severity and panic. *You're going to have to let me take care of things. *
"But Victoria-and the servants, they will want to know. . . "
*I will take care of it. You have to rest. *
Diego gave into the boy's insistence and the weakness of his own traitorous body and allowed himself to relax fully into the bed. Felipe pulled up the blankets gently and rearranged the pillows properly.
*Don't worry. I will take care of everything. *
Felipe's motions were calm and soothing. His body's near collapse was taking him into sleep even if his mind was in turmoil. A numbness spread through his limbs, erasing the aches, blessedly dulling the pain. It rolled over him like a blanket, and for a while Diego knew no more.
Author's note: I hesitated to post this even though I do have quite a few more scenes written just because it feels a bit off to me. I'd be interested to hear reader reaction to it, though perhaps that is not possible yet. I needed Diego wounded for plot purposes, but I was having trouble establishing how serious the wound was. I wanted it to be serious, but not immediately life threatening if that makes any sense. At the same time, I had to make it seem in the last scene to Victoria and more especially the alcalde that Zorro had in fact been wounded far more seriously than he was. I don't quite know if that's what I've established, but it's what I'm going with. Never having been shot, I don't quite know how one would react to it, but I'd have to think you'd be weakened and fairly non-functional even if the bullet hadn't lodged anywhere vital. So that's what I based Diego's symptoms on here. Like I said, I'd be grateful to know if it works or at least if it plays out well enough in subsequent scenes.
The pain was unexpected, fierce. In all his years as Zorro he'd been shot at times beyond counting, and even Mendoza's soldiers could not miss every time, but his earlier wounds had been shallow, barely worse than deep scratches. This he had no experience for.
He felt Toronado slow and then stop, but he couldn't move, could barely think. Frantic hands grabbed his shoulders. He lifted his head and saw Felipe standing beside Toronado, his face bloodless white. Beyond him was the familiar workbench and his laboratory equipment.
The cave then. Safety.
"Felipe," he said, forcing some strength into his voice for the boy's sake. He shifted his weight to dismount and would have fallen if the young man hadn't caught him and eased him down onto the floor. He started to speak again, but Felipe pressed his hand against his lips.
Now that he was off Toronado, the pain diminished, leaving him room to concentrate. The world spun less lying here on the floor. He was grateful for it, but he was so tired. He just needed to close his eyes for a minute, just one.
Felipe's slaps against his face drew him out again.
He tried focusing on his friend's face, but couldn't keep his eyes open.
Felipe shook him harder this time and briefly the world snapped into clarity.
*I don't know what to do * Felipe signed, his panic nearly making the normally crisp gestures incomprehensible. *You have to tell me what to do. *
"Help me sit up," Diego said, gasping a little at the effort. He had to remain calm, had to fight off his own panic for both their sakes. Felipe would not know what to do on his own, and each moment was ebbing what little strength he had left.
Felipe looked unsure for a moment, but then grabbed a few of Toronado's blankets and placed them behind Diego's back as gently as he could manage. Diego winced, but it was easier to breathe in that position, and, lifting his head, he could get a better look at the wound.
"It's not . . . it's not as bad as I had feared," he said, dropping his head back against the blankets. The bullet had cut a deep gouge into his right side, but it could have been worse. De Soto was a better shot than his men. If Toronado hadn't reared and thrown his aim off, the bullet would have lodged in his chest. Still, there was quite a lot of blood, and although the flow had slowed, more was seeping out by the minute.
"You'll have to clean it," he said, knowing neither of them would enjoy the process.
Felipe's shaky movements had calmed and he nodded firmly before disappearing from Diego's sight. A moment later Felipe gently but firmly pulled away Diego's hand where he'd pressed it to his side again and ripped the shirt to bare the skin beneath. Diego felt a cloth gently wiping away the majority of the blood, but then Felipe gripped his arm hard and Diego nodded. He gritted his teeth, but it didn't help much when Felipe poured alcohol over the wound to clean it properly.
Felipe finished the grim task, but didn't allow Diego's distress to distract him from applying firm enough pressure with the cloth to clean the injury thoroughly. He stopped and allowed Diego a few merciful seconds to get his breath back.
Diego closed his eyes and tried to fight the nauseating waves of pain emanating from his side, but it was a losing battle. The greyness was closing in with each breath.
"You'll have to apply a poultice," he gasped out finally. "You should use the recipe in the green box. The one from Padre Benitez."
Felipe pressed his fingers against his lips again, silencing him and he faded from true alertness again.
Some time later, possibly a moment, possibly a full half an hour, Felipe returned and began to dress the wound. Diego opened his eyes again and raised his head, thinking to help the boy, but Felipe's movements were confident and his lips were set in a grim line.
*You have to sit up. I have to be able to wrap the bandage. *
Diego struggled for a moment to comply, but then Felipe's arm was beneath him again, strong and sure. The boy propped him up against his shoulder and then began to wind the bandage tightly around his ribs. The movement was awkward as he tried to keep Diego vertical, but he managed it finally and laid Diego back down again.
*The bleeding has stopped, * Felipe signed.
Diego nodded. The pain was receding slightly, and the world was slowly righting itself once again. But the deep fatigue was weighing down on him, and his strength to fight it was fading fast.
Felipe pulled away Diego's sweat soaked mask and wiped the dirt and sweat from his face with a clean cloth.
He found and pressed Felipe's hand in thanks. "You'll have to help me up. The night's nearly gone and I have to be back in bed before the others wake up."
*Wait here* Felipe said, pressing the signs into Diego's hand as he had when he was younger, as a game.
Felipe returned in a moment. Before Diego could say anything, the boy had place an arm under his shoulders and was levering him up again.
*You have to help * he signed with his free hand.
Diego didn't bother to answer, just put his strength into regaining his feet.
The world spun again for a moment, but with Felipe's help he was able make it to his bed and remove the rest of Zorro's trappings.
His overwhelming fatigue was finally winning the battle, but there was so much he had to do. He couldn't give in, not yet.
"We won't be able to hide everything from the others," he said. "They will know something is wrong. And Victoria-Victoria! she was there, she could be in danger . . . " he started to sit up, but the pain stabbed, knife sharp, and he collapsed against the bed, gasping.
Felipe was beside him in a moment, his hands fluttering over Diego as if he feared where he could touch him without hurting him. After a moment the spasm passed, but it left him without the breath to speak.
*You have to stay there. * Felipe signed, the expression on his young face a strange mix of severity and panic. *You're going to have to let me take care of things. *
"But Victoria-and the servants, they will want to know. . . "
*I will take care of it. You have to rest. *
Diego gave into the boy's insistence and the weakness of his own traitorous body and allowed himself to relax fully into the bed. Felipe pulled up the blankets gently and rearranged the pillows properly.
*Don't worry. I will take care of everything. *
Felipe's motions were calm and soothing. His body's near collapse was taking him into sleep even if his mind was in turmoil. A numbness spread through his limbs, erasing the aches, blessedly dulling the pain. It rolled over him like a blanket, and for a while Diego knew no more.
Author's note: I hesitated to post this even though I do have quite a few more scenes written just because it feels a bit off to me. I'd be interested to hear reader reaction to it, though perhaps that is not possible yet. I needed Diego wounded for plot purposes, but I was having trouble establishing how serious the wound was. I wanted it to be serious, but not immediately life threatening if that makes any sense. At the same time, I had to make it seem in the last scene to Victoria and more especially the alcalde that Zorro had in fact been wounded far more seriously than he was. I don't quite know if that's what I've established, but it's what I'm going with. Never having been shot, I don't quite know how one would react to it, but I'd have to think you'd be weakened and fairly non-functional even if the bullet hadn't lodged anywhere vital. So that's what I based Diego's symptoms on here. Like I said, I'd be grateful to know if it works or at least if it plays out well enough in subsequent scenes.
