Note: before we start, I'd like to warn you guys that this story depicts Diego in a way we don't see in the series (Disney's, 1957). It's still him, but… well, you'll see.

Here goes nothing.

I

Midnight

Two horses had just pulled over in front of the De la Vega hacienda. Josefina heard them as she came down the staircase with a bundle of laundry. She could not discern the words, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Buenas tardes, don Diego. Bernardo."

"Buenas tardes, Josefina. How has everything been around here?"

The deafmute servant waved hello and smiled at her.

"Good, pretty good."

She headed towards the house and don Diego went with her, walking by her side. Bernardo stayed taking care of the saddlebags and the mounts.

"Do you know if my father is in the living room?"

"I think so, last time I saw him, he was there."

"Gracias. Allow me."

He opened up the door for her, as the bag of clothes was too large.

"My son!" don Alejandro got up from his seat: "I was expecting you at noon at the latest. How was the trip? Ah, Josefina, would you please…?"

"Right away, señor."

"We took longer because we had to stop to fix a horseshoe and before that…"

The sound of her own steps down the corridor, Cresencia scolding somebody in the kitchen, the knife against the wooden board as María chopped onions and peppers, the pot boiling with the dinner's stew, all of the usual noises blended in and fell into the background, as his words faded away and became inaudible, but she could still hear them or imagine them, even once in the cellar.

She took a bottle of don Alejandro's usual wine of choice.

"...when Romero left Spain. It was his father who told me that, you must remember Lorenzo Serrano."

"Well, he was the one involved."

"Excuse me."

Don Alejandro didn't seem to acknowledge her presence:

"Since the very start, I knew Grogorio's project was a risky one. In Monterrey, there has always been…"

She could see her own distorted image on the surface of the silver tray, maybe a bit of a reflection of everything around as well. There was also a faint scent that reached her: the one of his cigar.

The wine filled one of the glasses, then the next one.

"...and with Spain at war, difficulties only grow exponentially. When did they say the supplies would arrive?"

"Gracias." Don Diego gave her a quick glance: "Five to six months, if everything goes as planned."

She left the bottle there in case they wanted some more. That laundry still needed to be done.

(...)

The light of the only candle painted strange shapes on the lazy surface of the mosquito net, though it was probably her imagination the one who played the biggest role in that. She'd left it half open anyway: it wasn't the season of bugs.

Uncle Pedro's memory came to mind: he had the amazing ability to keep mental track of time with an error of only five or ten minutes at most. It looked like it didn't run in the family, because Josefina always found herself in a sort of infinite lake of minutes and hours, whenever she tried to decipher what time it was. Now, it could be anywhere between half past ten and a quarter to twelve. Certainly not midnight. Not yet.

So she came out of bed for no particular reason, stood there for a while, paced back and forth a bit. The flicker of an abstract idea of reproach attempted to visit her, but melted away when the door knob clicked.

There was the same man she had greeted earlier on that day with a generic buenas tardes, but there was no wall between them now, was there? There was just the truth, like… like they were the only ones who knew the key to all of the mysteries of the world.

"Hello" he said almost in a whisper, the door closed and locked behind his back.

"Hello..."

Josefina was suddenly very aware of her own heartbeat. He approached, covering the space between them:

"I missed you."

"So did I."

Without hesitation, his lips were on hers and his arms, around her. It always felt like the first or maybe the last time. She wanted to hang on to every second of him before everything vanished before her eyes… but it wouldn't; it was real.

Improbable, yet real.

(...)

Slowly, the objects around started to exist again: the rectangular shadow of the wardrobe against the opposite wall, a chair, the rickety shelf and the yellow flame on it, next to the three or four saint cards, a crucifix and the pearly rosary that had belonged to her aunt.

The rest of the world was in complete darkness, except for his presence, her hand resting on his chest that went up and down just slightly with each one of his breaths.

"How were you all this time? All this month."

Thirty two days, to be precise. She had counted them.

"I was just here."

"Right here?"

"Uh huh."

"What else?"

"Well, I deep cleaned the library, every bookcase and every shelf and corner. I hope I left everything in place."

"You did."

"I'm glad."

"And then?"

"Let's see... I went into town a couple times with Cresencia, to the market. I went to church, oh, I also made that pie you like."

"You made blueberry pie without me?"

"I can make some more."

His hand was grazing her knuckles, one by one.

"No, don't worry, just when you have the chance."

"I will make it for you. I want to."

"Gracias." Light kisses on her fingertips.

"How was the trip?"

"Bad at first; better, later on. There were several robberies to the people who were taking money for the provisions. I came to think don Gregorio was behind it but it turned out to be a servant of his."

"Oh."

"That's why we took so long. In the end, the… soldiers found out who it had been and they were taken to jail."

"So you did good for the entire town of Los Angeles."

"The lancers did. Have you ever been to Monterrey?"

She looked up at him:

"I was born there."

"Were you? I didn't know that."

"I came here when I was I think two years old, so I don't remember anything. How is it?"

"It is three or four times larger than Los Angeles. There are things we don't have here: a bank, a small theater and picture this, two taverns. The market is bigger too. And the ocean is nearby."

"Did you see it?"

"On the way, yes."

"And how is it?"

"It is…" He breathed in deeply: "It's a blue line faraway, in the horizon, and below it, early in the morning, it has a silver shine. And during the sunset, it's gold and orange, parts of it… I almost forgot." He propped himself up and reached for his jacket, then pulled something out of an inner pocket: "I got you this."

It was a kind of polished wooden egg, with lines and inscriptions and other decorations on the outside.

"What is it?"

"You open it like this… and there's a map of the sky with constellations, you can see Orion and all of these, the sun, the moon. Even a comet."

It looked like the insides of a pocket watch, with little metallic gears and small pieces that fit into place.

"It's beautiful, Diego…"

"But?"

"But… you don't have to-"

"I don't have to give you things, I know. I didn't do it because I have to but because I wanted to. I saw it at a stand at the market in Monterrey and I thought of you, since were talking about astronomy the other day, remember? And I wanted you to have it. That is all."

It was true: there was Orion and its tiny belt.

"Gracias. I didn't know something like this existed. Didn't Bernardo see you buy it?"

"No, I sent him off on an errand."

"Thanks again."

With a kiss on the crown of her head, she closed her eyes and an idea crossed her mind: whenever it was her time to die, her last thoughts would be for these moments.

(...)

There was only empty space before her eyes, on the other side of the bed.

Without much awareness, without knowing too well what she was doing, she pulled up the sheets a bit more and moved over, to lie her head where his had been and pick up whatever trace there still was of his presence. She tried to feel the mattress as she'd felt his chest before, he'd been here, it smelled like him still, it was still warm and-

"Josefina."

She gasped and turned around to him, his shirt still half buttoned up.

"I thought you were gone."

"Not without saying good night" he held her: "Though I don't like to awake you."

"Please, do."

He kissed her.

"Tomorrow is your free day, isn't it?"

"Sí."

"Then you can sleep in."

"Sí."

Through the gauzy canopy, she saw him button up his shirt, adjust the sash, put on the vest and the jacket. She liked to see that and didn't hide it, even if it gave her a pang of… something similar to nostalgia.

He leaned over her again:

"Good night, then."

"Good night."

One more kiss for the day; one more time, his hands cupping her face, hers holding on to his shoulders.

I love you, God help me, she thought.

It was hard to let go. But they had to.

Once at the door, he listened for a little while. Then, gave her one last glance, opened up and left.

Josefina sat up and organized the sheets and the blanket of her twin size bed, then laid on her back. She should put her nightgown on. She would, in a minute.

This time, she did say it out loud:

"I love you… God help me."

(...)

Note: maybe this could be seen as out of context, far fetched and plain disrespectful to the series. But that's not my intention! I just had this idea and I wanted to explore it. Gotta say I even considered (and I'm considering) rating this M, even though there's nothing toooooo explicit; should I? Also, the information about Monterrey I pretty much made it up; in the series they made it look as if it was a city next to the sea, so I went with that.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!