Alejandro jumped when a hand shook his shoulder. He could barely make out the image of his friend. "Fernando, you do not need to take over. I am fine."

Fernando glared at his friend and took his arm pulling him out of the chair. "You look terrible, even in the poor light. You will not do Diego, or anyone else, any good if you get sick. Now please go to bed. But first drink the tea Bernardo prepared for you."

Alejandro found himself too tired to argue. He let his friend lead him to his room. "Now I don't expect to see you until late in the morning. Doctor Hernandez and the others will not be here until mid-afternoon," Don Fernando warned.

"Sí, I think you are right. Buenos noches." Alejandro agreed. He watched Don Fernando leave, before he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pants. Alejandro slipped into his nightgown and crawled beneath the covers. He leaned across his bed and blew out the lantern that sat on a small cherry table near his bedside. His head barely hit the down pillow before he fell into a deep sleep. The day's events had taken their toll, and Alejandro's body was exhausted.

The morning came quicker than Alejandro would have liked. Thin strands of light penetrated his curtain and settled across his face. Raising a sleep laden arm, Alejandro tried to block the sun from his eyes, and for a moment he couldn't remember why he was in bed so late. Usually he was up before the first rays could reach his second-story window.

He swung his feet off the bed and onto the cold floor. The early morning chill penetrated his senses, the sensation triggered the memories of last night and Alejandro sighed. He couldn't believe he had slept so long while his son lay in the next room injured. Dressing quickly he ran a comb through his hair before stepping into the hall.

The smell of warm tortillas and eggs wafted up the stairs. Alejandro's stomach rumbled and he smiled slightly, looking around to see if anyone was near enough to hear. Shaking his head, his smile faded as he walked to Diego's room. He stopped outside the door when he heard Diego's voice. He seemed to be having a conversation with himself. Alejandro stepped closer, careful not to make any noise. He knew he shouldn't listen, but he found himself unable to stop. Alejandro had a strange sensation that if he heard what Diego was saying some more of last nights mystery would be resolved.

Diego's muffled voice floated to the door. "Yes, he is here for me. No, I don't know what he is planning next, but I am sure I will not like it. No, I don't think Zorro will interfere. It is not necessary, and can only lead to trouble…If it is necessary, but only if there is no other choice. It is dangerous. I will try. Now go see if Father is awake."

Alejandro took several steps toward his room and paused. When he heard Diego's door open he continued walking as though nothing was amiss. He was surprised to see Bernardo walk out of Diego's room. Bernardo smiled and waved him toward the room. Alejandro nodded and thanked his son's faithful mozo.

As Alejandro made his way to Diego's room, a nagging feeling settled in his stomach. He was curious as to why Diego would talk to Bernardo in private, but only use hand signals in public. An answer seemed to come to him, but before he could make it out it was gone.

Alejandro also worried about what he had heard Diego say. Why would Zorro not interfere and what is going to be dangerous? This was just one more secret Diego hid from him, and he wondered what else there was to know.

Alejandro smiled as he opened the door and saw Diego. Although obviously stiff, Diego was propped up against several pillows, an empty bowl on the night stand. "I am glad to see you are feeling better," Alejandro smiled.

Diego smiled at his father's concern. "A little." Diego admitted. "You look better. Did you rest?" Diego asked, knowing his father worried excessively about him and doubtlessly paid little heed to his own well-being.

Alejandro sighed, amazed at his son's selflessness, "Diego, you are injured and yet you are more concerned with my sleep. You are something, mi hijo."

Diego's hazel eyes lowered at the complement. He had kept too many secrets and hurt his father too many times to deserve such praise. He turned his head away before speaking. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, "You are my Father. I…I have always tried to watch out for you. I do only what I can, what is right. No man would do any less."

"No, Diego. You may not be a fighter, but you have always put others before you. That is rare among men. Do not forget that."

Diego looked at his father and saw pride in those dark eyes. How long had he waited to see that look? Diego knew he had not seen that look since his return from Spain. "Father I…" Diego started, unsure if he should continue. He knew his father should know he was Zorro, but Diego did not want to risk Alejandro's life because of a selfish act. "Father," he continued, "gracias. That means a great deal to me." Diego shifted, trying to hide his nervousness, and grimaced at the pain it caused.

From his slow movements and pained expression, Alejandro could tell Diego was still sore, "Are you in much pain? Doctor Hernandez left some laudanum in case you needed it."

"No, Father. I am fine. Just a bit tired. Bernardo said Doctor Hernandez would be here to check on me later, and I think I would like to rest before then."

"All right, mi hijo. If you need anything I will be in to check on you later," Alejandro said as he turned to leave.

"Gracias Father." Diego said, his mind already half asleep. The next few days would be tiresome, and Diego only hoped he would be healed before Zorro was needed. Fortunately Monastario was in Monterey for the next month, and Zorro wouldn't likely be needed until his return. Diego was not going to pass up such an excellent opportunity to rest and heal.

Bored with his own thoughts, Diego closed his eyes and tried to rest. Doctor Hernandez's visit would likely be tiring, and he wanted to save as much strength as possible before the visit. Diego soon drifted into a disturbed sleep, his mind still to occupied with his worries to rest completely.

A firm hand lightly shook Diego's shoulder. Diego started at the touch. His lids flew open and hazel eyes searched the room for the source of the touch. His body tensed at the possible confrontation. "What?" He asked his mind still numb from being awakened to soon.

Noticing Diego's reaction, Alejandro spoke softly to his son. "It's all right Diego," his soothing voice said. "It is just Doctor Hernandez. Let him look at you."

Diego turned toward the voice and his eyes focused on the image of his father. Diego noted the slumped posture, and the tired eyes, dark underneath from lack of sleep and worry. "Lo siento," he said as let the doctor remove the blanket and pull back his night shirt.

Doctor Hernandez prodded the area and replaced the bandage before straightening. "It is healing nicely. You heal very quickly Diego," Doctor Hernandez commented as he pulled the blanket back into place. Diego shrugged at the comment but said nothing.

Doctor Hernandez turned to Alejandro, "Sergeant Garcia can come up now if he is ready. Just let him know he is not to ask too many questions today. Diego, while he is healing, is still weak and needs rest."

Diego frowned, his handsome features marred by the look of displeasure. He knew he had to tell the sergeant something, but he did not want anyone to know exactly what was going on. He had already told his father too much, but Diego could not stand to add anymore reason for his father to worry. I don't have to give him a physical description. He can't find what he can't see, Diego thought. Still, he didn't like the idea.

"All right," Alejandro said. He turned to leave but stopped halfway through the door. He had noticed the scowl on Diego's face, "Don't worry Diego, I will stay with you and if you get tired I will chase the good sergeant out."

Diego gave Alejandro a half-smile. "Gracias Father," was all the young don said, his mind focused on the interview soon to come. He had to figure out what to tell the sergeant. He couldn't change from the story he told Alejandro, but he could leave things out and explain to his father he still feels it is between himself and Fuentes. Diego was still lost in thought when his door flew open.

"Diego," Sergeant Garcia began-his eyes wide as he saw the dark bruise on Diego's jaw and the swollen cut lip. "Madre de Dios! They said you were hurt, but who would do this to you? You are the best man I know. You have never wronged anyone. You do not even fight! You help everyone you can, especially me," Garcia commented, his face red from the thought of anyone hurting Diego.

Diego blushed at the comment but remained silent. He looked at his father's face and then to Don Fernando and Doctor Hernandez. He knew they felt the same way. His blushed deepened and he turned away so they wouldn't see his burning cheeks. He did not deserve their praise. If they knew what secrets he hid, they would feel differently. He had lied to them all, and when the time came to reveal himself, he wasn't sure what they would do.

Alejandro noticed his son's blush and spoke up, "Sergeant, do you think you could begin the questioning? Diego needs his rest."

Garcia nodded, "Lo siento. I will hurry," Garcia said before turning to Diego. "Do you know who did this?" He asked, his voice carrying the hope that Diego did indeed know.

Diego shook his head, "No, I have never seen them before."

"What did they look like?"

Diego frowned, his mind working on an image that would be broad enough to serve his purpose, but still detailed enough to satisfy the sergeant and the others in the room. "I never saw any of them but one…" A sudden thought suddenly occurred to Diego, "and only him for a few seconds. They blindfolded me," Diego added his mind working rapidly. "I suppose he was the leader," he continued. "He wore the clothes of a peon, but they were well made. His face is one big blur, but he may have had a scar on his right cheek. I can not be certain though. " Diego told the men in the room.

This time it was Doctor Hernandez who spoke, "Diego, what were you doing out there in the storm?"

Diego knew they would eventually come around to this question, but he had hoped they would ask a few more before. He was not ready to answer just yet. Diego yawned, and shifted uncomfortably in bed. The interview, although short, was taxing on Diego's healing body. He knew he had to do something before he became too tired and let something slip.

Doctor Hernandez saw Diego squirm and could hear the yawn he tried to muffle. "Diego, are you all right? Are you in pain?" Hernandez asked, concerned for his young patient.

Diego's only reply was another yawn. He was tired, and his body still ached. Perhaps the doctor could do what he couldn't, Diego thought. Diego knew from his childhood that the best way to make someone think you are ill is to simply deny it. "No, I am fine. We…" Diego yawned in mid-sentence, his eyes closing with the action. He found it hard to open them again; he felt drained. He tried to pry his eye lids open and couldn't get them to cooperate. I'll just rest them a moment. They won't mind, Diego thought.

"Diego?" Doctor Hernandez questioned when Diego did not finish what he was saying. When the young don's eyes remained closed, Doctor Hernandez knelt beside the bed. He gently shook the young man, and to his surprise, Diego was asleep.

TBC