Consciousness crept over him slowly, like sunlight slinking over the fields at dawn, and he lay there for several moments staring blankly at the wall before he realized that he was awake. He rested, unmoving, trying to get his bearings. He remembered the escape, seeing his father again, the long ride home. But after that things were exceedingly hazy. He had vague memories of people hovering over him, offering water and thin broth in brief snatches, but there was no order to it.
After five days with Domingo and his associates, waking up in his own extremely comfortable bed was a bit surreal. Weak sunlight filtered through the shuttered windows, but everything was so very quiet.
He pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing a little at the stiffness in his side. The pain was less sharp than it had been, and his head was clearer than it had been in days, but he could not remember ever feeling so weak.
"Diego, you're awake!"
He startled and his arm slipped from beneath him, sending him tumbling back against his pillows.
The bed dipped slightly and he turned to find Victoria hovering over him, fussing with the pillows behind him.
"Victoria!" he said, feeling the blood rush to his face. He became acutely conscious of the fact that he was apparently not wearing a shirt and tried to push her away. She shoved his hands aside, clucking at him in impatience, and rearranged his pillows to her satisfaction.
She perched beside him and laid her hand on his cheek.
"It is very good to see you awake," she said. "We've been very worried."
The simple happiness on her face might have been flattering if they hadn't been alone, in his bedroom, sitting on his bed, in fact.
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Your father doesn't think it entirely proper that I be here either, but after your fever finally broke last night, I finally insisted that he and Felipe get some rest."
The situation was just bizarre enough for him to ignore how very wrong it probably was for her to be here. He took her hand from his cheek and laid both on the coverlet. She curled her fingers around his and squeezed a little.
He lay there for a little while, enjoying the restful quiet she always seemed to bring. He should ask her what had been going on in his absence, when his father had returned, so many questions. But he was so tired even talking was somewhat wearying, and it was so good just to have her here. Felipe had assured him that she was well, but he'd been so worried for her, for what the alcalde might do to her in Zorro's absence.
"I heard what happened," he said, wishing he were Zorro so that he might comfort her more directly. Of course if Zorro could be here there would be no need of comfort.
Her smile fell and then she lowered her head, allowing the black curtain of her hair to cut her face off from his view. Her fingers tightened in his.
"I should have come to see you," he said, wishing desperately that he could see her face again. "Victoria, please, are you all right?"
She swung her head up. "I am fine. Your father has been kind enough to offer me a place in your home. And we are talking about you, even if you do keep trying to change the subject."
"But, you -"
She placed the fingers of her free hand over his lips and frowned at him. "You have been drifting in and out of consciousness for three days. For a while we didn't know if you would wake up at all."
Three days? Surely it could not have been that long? But this was a disaster.
Her face softened and she moved her fingers from his grasp to massage his temples lightly. "Yes, three days. But you are awake now, and the doctor has promised that if you show some sense for once, you will recover."
Her face darkened a little and her smile became a little sad. She leaned down and embraced him lightly, filling his head with the lovely, clean scent of her hair as it brushed his cheek.
"You gave us a very good scare, Diego de la Vega. I would have been very angry with you if you had taken my best friend from me."
She backed away slightly and kissed him lightly, drawing a startled breath.
"That is for being alive," she said. She bent her head again, kissing him more deeply this time. "And that is for waking up after all."
Before he could recover from that she lowered her head again. This third kiss was not quite what she might offer Zorro, but it was no light thing. He could almost be jealous of himself. Which was, well, more than a little bit ridiculous.
"And that?" he asked when she backed away again.
Her smile was secretive. "That was for being yourself. And because I didn't know if you'd let me get close enough again."
He caught her hand again and just rested against the pillows for a moment. His head might be clearer, but even this light conversation was draining him. Of course, Victoria often had a dizzying effect on him.
"And how are you doing?" she asked. "And if you say well enough or try and tell me it is nothing or some other mannish nonsense I think I will scream."
He smiled at her fierceness, knowing that she meant it well enough. "I am afraid I don't precisely know. I am a bit tired, perhaps."
She smiled. "I should have known you would be sensible."
She started to brush the hair from his face and he closed his eyes, happy just to rest for a moment and share a rare time alone with her. He found, despite his best efforts to pay attention to her, that he wanted little more than to just lie here and go back to sleep for maybe a week or so. Her fingers felt good, distracting him from a slight headache, until they once again found the scar from so many weeks ago and paused in their movement.
"I am sorry," she said.
He smiled and opened his eyes. "I am afraid it is I who must apologize. There was much going on here that required my attention, but fatigue is no excuse for poor behavior."
She shook her head. "You were hurt, probably worse than you would admit," she said, pausing to glare at him. "Miguel told me something of what things had been like here and your people have been coming in droves to thank your father for what you've done for them."
She shook her head, fierce frustration filling her eyes. "You do so much and you never let anyone notice. Not until you are gone and it's too late. I just don't understand you sometimes."
He reached for her and then pulled back. It was so hard to remember that he was Diego and not Zorro, and therefore she must be Victoria and not his querrida.
"Victoria?"
She gripped the covers in two fists, her eyes flashing with a loyalty he wasn't sure he deserved. "I knew you were coming back, I knew it, but days went by and they didn't find any sign of you, none, and it was getting so hard."
Her eyes were dry, but there was something hollow about her expression that was somehow more painful than tears might have been.
He struggled to sit up, to find something to say to her, but a wave of weariness assaulted him and the words would not come.
"Listen to me," she said, pushing him firmly back against the pillows. "You wake up after three days and here I sit, talking about myself. Sometime you are going to tell me how you manage that."
"I am sorry," he said. "I never meant to leave you alone."
"I know," she said, laying a hand on his arm.
"I need to talk to my father," he said after a moment. To have her here was an unexpected gift, but responsibility could not forever be evaded.
"You need to rest," she said. "Besides which he should be asleep himself. I don't think he's had more than a few hours rest in the five days since he returned."
"I imagine he found the state of things something of a shock," Diego said as dryly as he could manage.
"Finding you missing was the shock," she said softly. "Your father is nearly the bravest man I know, but I have never seen him so frightened, never. You are the most important thing in his life. You know that."
There was something of reproach in her tone, and he felt a surge of guilt. Of course his father's first priority would be himself. To believe otherwise was an insult his father certainly didn't deserve.
"I am sorry," he said. "I just-"
She silenced him with a finger against his lips. "You just wanted to prove to him you could manage in his absence. I know."
She smiled and shook her head at his surprised look. "You are sometimes very hard to read, my friend, but some things are not hard to see for people who know you well."
She lay down on the covers and pressed her forehead against his uninjured shoulder where it lay above the covers. Her small hand found his and she entwined their fingers again. His father would probably be scandalized, but sometimes he thought his father needed to be scandalized.
"It is very good to see you, Diego," she said, voice tired and a little rough. "I really don't think I would have forgiven you if you hadn't come back."
He raised her hand to his lips and then lay both back on the covers with easy, friendly intimacy. Her time with Zorro was always limited by fears of the alcalde and usually when she was with Diego there was always the barriers of his less tangible masks between them. But just now neither of those roles seemed to have much bearing. Lying with her here was easy, surprisingly comfortable. It made him wonder what it would be like when he might take off all of his masks and fulfill the promise he'd made with his mother's ring so many years ago now.
He turned his head to look at her and saw that she'd closed her eyes and her breath was coming deep and even. Unguarded, her face looked more fatigued. He turned slightly to give her more room, but her fingers tightened slightly in his and he stopped.
Rest, querrida.
In the quiet that descended, it was harder to fight his tiredness any longer. Deciding it was useless to fight the inevitable, he closed his eyes and joined Victoria in sleep.
