He turned to the men in the room with a smile on his face. "He is asleep. I guess this interview took more out of him than he thought. The rest of his story can wait." Doctor Hernandez turned to Sergeant Garcia, "You have your descriptions. The rest of the interview will have to wait another few days."

Sergeant Garcia shook his head fervently, "Sí, Diego needs his rest. I just wish he could have told us what the men looked like. Me and my men have a hard enough time finding people we know," The sergeant said as he shrugged his broad shoulders. "I will find the men for Diego," Sergeant Garcia stated as he left the room. The other men soon followed, leaving Diego alone to rest.

When Diego again opened his eyes he could tell night had fallen. His room was shrouded in darkness, except for one small lamp that barely burned. He looked around his room and saw a sleeping figure in the chair next to his bed. He squinted to see who it was. The man shifted and Diego could tell it was Don Fernando.

Diego swallowed and his mouth felt dry. He saw the pitcher of water on the nightstand, an empty glass beside it. Diego carefully shifted his weight. His muscles protested and Diego had to clench his jaw to stop the groan in his throat. He slid his feet off the bed and sat up. The movement jarred every bruise and scrape and this time Diego could not stop the small gasp that left his lips.

Diego held his breath as Don Fernando stirred. He did not want the Don to wake up before he had his drink. The man, almost as protective as his father, would likely fuss over him. While Diego knew the men were merely trying to help, he was not used to relying on anyone, and he wasn't about to now. Don Fernando shifted his weight, his head rolling towards Diego. Diego could tell he was still asleep.

After a few moments, Diego continued his slow progress. He planted both legs firmly on the ground and gripped his head board to steady himself. The nightstand was near the bed, but Diego would have to stand to reach the pitcher and glass.

He took a deep breath before pushing himself off the bed. He swayed slightly, gripping the bed tighter. When he felt steady, Diego took a step toward the pitcher. He moved his hand to the top of the nightstand and took another step. The pitcher was just at his fingertips. He stretched his upper body, long fingers reached for the handle. His fingertips touched the thin handle and he pulled it toward himself. Diego leaned his tall frame against the cool wood. The water felt good on his dry throat and he nearly sighed in relief. Diego filled the cup, and set it closer to the bed.

The journey back took longer. Diego felt somewhat dizzy, and his feet didn't want to cooperate. He fell across the bed and laid there for a moment catching his breath. A small chuckle invaded Diego's senses, and he rolled over.

"All you had to do was ask," Don Fernando said, his voice held a note of humor. "But it is good to see you out of bed," he continued. "Now let me help you," he told Diego as he stood and reached for one of Diego's arms. Fernando helped Diego back into bed and pulled the dark covers over his tall frame.

"I am here for you. Don't be afraid to ask for help. I will not think any less of you," Fernando chided the embarrassed Diego.

"Lo siento. I was merely tired of being waited on. I needed to do this." Diego explained.

"I understand, but next time at least make sure I am awake." Fernando smiled and sat back in his chair. "If you need something just wake me."

Diego nodded, "Sí, I will wake you." Diego shifted in the hopes of finding a comfortable position. His chest hurt from the shallow wound, the bandages rubbed on the area and Diego had an urge to scratch the healing skin. Diego ignored the sensation and slipped into a fitful rest. Don Fernando also closed his eyes, and soon he too was asleep.

Diego awoke to an empty room. The sun had not yet fully risen above the orchard and his room was still dark. Diego careful stretched his battered body, wincing at the stiffness and twinges as he worked through each exercise. Diego decided he would ask Bernardo for a hot bath with some of the herbs he had collected a few years ago from the missionary Indians mixed in. What the herbs were, Diego did not know, but they worked wonders on stiff and sore muscles. He had used the herbs before when Zorro's escapades had left his body tired and stressed.

Diego grimaced as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He slipped into his robe. Bernardo, he assumed, had been thoughtful and had left it on the chair beside his bed. He moved slowly to the dresser and used it as a support while he wiggled his feet into his slippers. He grabbed a comb and ran it through his hair before moving slowly across the room. Diego felt better this morning, his stretches had loosened his muscles and he felt like he had more energy.

Diego opened his door and peered out. He looked down the hall and was glad to see it empty. Diego smiled. He felt like a child sneaking about the house, doing something he shouldn't be. Of course, Diego admitted, he was about to do something he probably shouldn't. He took one last look down the corridor before he stepped out into the hall. He shut his door and worked his way to the stair case. He frowned as he looked down the flight of steps. They seemed longer than normal.

Diego carefully made his way down the steps. He smiled at his triumph when his feet touched the hardwood of the sala. As silently as he could he made his way into the library. It was empty and Diego sighed in relief. He could hear voices in the kitchen and knew his father and Fernando were probably eating. He expected they would wait a few hours before bringing him his broth. Maybe if he was lucky they wouldn't notice his escape for a couple of hours. His room had seemed crowded over the last couple of days and the open space of the library was a relief to Diego. Besides, a good book always helped him to relax and Doctor Hernandez only ordered him to rest. He didn't say where he was supposed to rest at.

Diego lost himself in one of his favorite books of poetry. He didn't know how long he had sat in the tall backed chair reading when he heard voices nearing the library. Oh well, he thought as the library door opened. Alejandro and Fernando both stopped in the doorway. Diego acted the innocent as the two men crossed the floor and stood in front of him. Diego looked up, "Father, Don Fernando." Diego greeted the two men as though it was natural they would find him in the library.

Don Alejandro looked at his son and shook his head, "Diego, what are you doing down here?"

"Reading, Father." Diego said, his voice light and amused.

Alejandro sighed exasperated at his son's behavior. "Yes, I can see that. But why are you in the library? You could have sent Bernardo to get you a book. Or Fernando or myself. You should not have come down stairs. You are not well, Diego."
Diego smiled at his father. His swollen lip protested but he kept the smile in place. "I am fine Father. Just sore. The walk did me some good. And besides, I came straight here to rest."

"Since you are down here, Maria can bring you your broth. Then, after you have eaten, you are going back to your room to get some more rest. Doctor Hernandez will be here in a couple of hours."
Diego held up his arms, "I surrender. I will finish my broth and go back up stairs. And I will stay there until Doctor Hernandez leaves."

Alejandro nodded, "I will have Maria bring you your breakfast." Alejandro turned and left the library.

Don Fernando wandered over to one tall bookshelf and thumbed through the volumes. He pulled out a red, leather bound volume and sat on the couch. "Do you mind if I keep you company?"
"No, not at all," Diego answered. He turned back to his poetry until Alejandro came back into the room. He carried a tray of broth and a cup of tea. He set it on the table beside Diego.

"Here you go Diego. It is fresh and hot."

"Thank you Father." Diego ate in silence, quickly finishing both the broth and tea. He did not want to admit it, but he was tired and bed sounded appealing. He would have to take his bath later--perhaps after Doctor Hernandez left.

Alejandro left Don Fernando in the library as he helped Diego back up stairs. Alejandro reminded Diego that Doctor Hernandez would be by to check on him in a couple of hours. He made sure Diego was safely in bed before he left.

Diego came awake slowly when a hand touched his shoulder. "Diego, I am sorry to wake you, but I need to change your bandage and check on your other injuries."
Diego turned sleep filled eyes on the kind and concerned face of Doctor Hernandez. "That is quite all right Doctor. I did not intend to fall asleep."
Hernandez chuckled, "You may not have been planning on it, but your body was. In a couple of days you should be able to move about freely without hurting as much. Just make sure you rest when you are tired."

The doctor changed the bandage on Diego's wound, glad to see it healing without any infection. He once again noted the scars that adorned Diego's body. They were not many, but some seemed like they had been serious. Doctor Hernandez nodded to himself as he came to a decision. He was certain he was right. Either way he was going to find out.

Hernandez looked at Diego, his face serious. "Diego, I want to ask you some questions. And I want the truth. I may know it all ready, but I want to hear it from you."
Diego tensed. He had a sickening feeling he knew what Hernandez was going to ask him and he had no idea how he could convince the doctor he was wrong. The scars told a story of there own, and Diego could not dismiss them. Hernandez would not allow him to.

"Diego, you have wounds and scars I have never treated. You have been injured many times over the last several years despite the fact that you pretend you are just a scholar. You are in excellent shape." Any doubt Hernandez had fled as he continued. "Of course, you have to be to pull off the stunts you do."

Hernandez looked directly at Diego, "Zorro could not be weak, could he?" It was not a question, so much as an accusation. "I have thought long and hard about what I have seen, Diego. I compiled all the injuries I know Zorro has taken and matched them with yours. They fit Diego. And then, I tried to remember when you were around at the same time as Zorro. There may have been one or two times, but I just couldn't remember. And then I remembered when Zorro first appeared. It was not long after you arrived. Days only. What were the odds? That is when I made up my mind. You are Zorro?"

Diego nodded. "You are the second person to know that. You can not tell anyone. Your knowing will put you in danger. If Monastario even suspects you know Zorro's identity he will do everything he can to get it out of you."
Doctor Hernandez smiled slightly, "You always think of others first. No, I will not tell anyone. You should tell your father. He deserves to know what his son does. He would be so proud of you Diego, as I am. Tell Bernardo I am proud of him as well. He seems to treat your wounds quite well." With that, Doctor Hernandez stood and left a dazed Diego behind.

Diego sat there stunned. He was certain the doctor would not tell anyone, but it did not ease the burden that someone knew and that they were suddenly in danger. Yet, Diego was somewhat glad the Doctor knew. His burden was hard to carry alone, even though he had Bernardo. Besides, it would make it possible for the doctor to treat him in the future--if there was a future for Zorro. Ignacio could make the doctor's discovery a mute point if he figured out who the man behind the mask was. And Diego had a terrible feeling Ignacio would figure out the pueblos, and perhaps California's, best kept secret.

TBC