The stranger smiled as he reached the table, his lips drawn up slightly, barely revealing a row of white teeth. "Buenos dias, señores," he said as he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. His mouth suddenly jerked, the corners twitching toward his dark brown eyes. "And to you Diego. It has been a long time since we last met."

"Sí." Diego agreed his voice tight. The caballeros around the table shot confused looks at Diego. The tavern grew silent, its occupants now focused on the display before them. No one had ever heard the young don address anyone with such obvious dislike in his voice. Alejandro reached a hand out to Diego, laying it on his son's arm to try to calm him. Like the others, Alejandro was confused by his son's actions.

Only Bernardo understood Diego's reaction. He had been in Spain when Diego had met this 'stranger'. Bernardo could never forget that face. Ignacio Fuentes was one of the few men Bernardo hated.

Ignacio's smile grew wicked. "Tell me Diego…,"he said raising his voice so that the entire tavern could hear what he was about to say, "do you still play with the sword?"

The question caught Diego off guard. He knew Ignacio might bring up this little secret, but he was not expecting it so soon. Diego did not know what to say. He knew he could not deny it. He was certain Ignacio had brought proof he could fight. The man was cold and calculating. Ignacio planned for everything, thought through all the possibilities before making a move. He was deadly at chess, and he treated life like a chess game. Diego had a terrible feeling Ignacio knew who he was beyond the passive façade of Diego de la Vega. Ignacio had probably asked questions, and knew everything he could about the bandit Zorro and Don Diego. At a loss, Diego remained still, his fists clenched against his thighs, as he glared at the man before him, hoping to come up with an answer.

The entire tavern had fallen deathly quiet at the simple question. Alejandro's voice cut through the silence, "Diego has never 'played' with the sword, Señor. And may I ask as to how you know my son? You are a stranger to Los Angeles, are you not?"

"Sí, I am a stranger here. My name is Ignacio Fuentes. I arrived yesterday by boat from Spain. The same place I met your son. We attended University together." Ignacio stopped for a moment, relishing the dark look on Diego's face. He had only seen that look once before, just before the tip of Diego's sword pierced his brother's chest. This time however, it would be Diego that suffered. Ignacio ran a finger over a thin scar on his left cheek, his eyes riveted on Diego's face, "And trust me Señor, Diego knows how to play with a sword." A wicked grin split Ignacio's face, "Ask him who gave me the scar."

All eyes turned to Diego. Diego lowered his head slightly and kept his eyes on the man before him. He did not want to see the face of his father or his friends when they discovered he had lied to them since his return from Spain. Diego knew he would lose the trust of some today, he just prayed his father and Don Fernando would not be among them.

"Diego?" Don Carlos asked.

After what seemed an eternity to the patrons of the tavern, Diego took a deep breath and let it out slowly. In a voice barely above a whisper, Diego said the words he feared would condemn him, "Sí, I gave him the scar."

Several gasps echoed through the room. Diego felt the hand on his arm tighten. "You have known how to fight since your return? Why did you hide it Diego?" Alejandro asked—bewilderment evident in his voice.

Before Diego could tell his father he would rather discuss this in private, Ignacio's voice echoed through the unnaturally quiet tavern. "Guilt."

"What?" Alejandro asked. He looked to his son for clarification but Diego said nothing, his knuckles white from his clenched fists. Diego kept his face calm and continued to glare at Ignacio. Alejandro once again prompted his son to explain what the stranger meant.

Diego's deep, icy voice startled everyone in the tavern. They started at the obvious hate Diego radiated toward the man, "I have no guilt over what I did. I would do it again if I had to."

"I didn't realize death meant so little to you," Ignacio countered, relishing in the obvious grief he was causing Diego. From the wide-eyed looks of the men in the tavern, the image Diego had portrayed for the last five years had just shattered.

"What does he mean, my son?"

"Nothing, Father." Diego replied. This was not supposed to have happened. Not like this, not like this, Diego thought, furious with himself for letting it happen at all. Diego knew only one way to stop this conversation. He turned on his heels and headed toward the exit, ignoring the voices of protest that reached his ears. Diego vaguely registered Bernardo pushing away from the table to follow him.

A hand grabbed Diego and tried to spin him around. Diego jerked free and continued walking, unfazed by the voice of his father telling him to stop. The men parted before Diego, leaving a clear path to the partially open door.

"You will die Diego." Ignacio's voice drifted through the tavern, but Diego did not stop.

Diego's voice, barely above a whisper, trailed behind him as he paused at the door and turned, "Everyone dies."

Alejandro shivered at his son's words as he watched the tall, handsome figure step into the early afternoon sun and disappear. Alejandro stared at the door for a few seconds before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it of the garbled details it had just been overwhelmed with. This was not his son. Diego seemed a different person. Alejandro had never seen his son so angry. For a few moments, Alejandro was certain his son would hit the stranger. He was surprised to see so much hate and anger in his son's normally cheerful hazel eyes. Diego had never shown so much passion. Alejandro ran a hand through his grey hair and turned to the stranger next to him.

The man seemed familiar to Alejandro. He studied the man for a brief second, noting the scar he had indicated earlier. It was thin and white, obviously several years old. Probably made by a rapier, Alejandro thought. The man had dark hair that fell just above his shoulders, his bangs falling loosely over his forehead. His eyes were light brown, but seemed darker in the dim light of the tavern. Alejandro shuddered at the sight of the man's eyes. Their intensity and hate almost scared him and he once again had the urge to step away from the man, but like before Alejandro remained where he was. Alejandro continued his appraisal. The man was handsome, despite the thin scar on his cheek.

This man had the same build as Diego. He was tall and broad shouldered. His lean, almost wiry, frame made him look like he would be an awkward fighter, but an image of Diego's grace as he moved through a crowded inn weeks before dispelled the brief notion. No, this man was quick and deadly. His tall frame would lend itself to a fight, allowing his blade to make contact before his opponent's.

Alejandro shivered at the thought that his son would most likely fight this man. The stranger believed Diego could fight, and Diego did not deny it. It fact, he confirmed it. Alejandro had a strange sense that he did not know his son. What else do I not know, Alejandro thought, laughing silently as he realized he had asked this question several times in the last few weeks and every time he had asked it he was no closer in discovering the answer than when he first voiced it.

Alejandro's rampant thoughts were stopped with the quiet voice of Don Fernando as he addressed Ignacio Fuentes, "What did you mean by guilt?"

Ignacio glanced around the tavern. All eyes were on him, their owners anxious to hear the story. Should he tell them, or let Diego, he wondered. Ignacio's quick mind ran through the scenarios. If Diego explained, Ignacio thought, than he could make himself seem like a hero, a righteous man whom the town would likely defend to the death. No, he had to tell the story, plant the seeds of doubt and then watch them grow.

Ignacio began his story. He quickly sketched the scene. Four students, only a year or two apart, all eager to learn and become men of action. They were the best students at University. Skilled in both sword and word. They were men of honor, bound by the unwritten code that guided them into manhood.

Ignacio's brother, Benicio, was to duel Diego's friend Arturo de Amanza for the honor of a young lady. "Benicio won, but Arturo could not stand it. While my brother's back was turned, Arturo lunged. I warned my brother and was forced to kill Arturo. Diego was furious. He drew his sword and plunged it through my brother's chest. He died the next day. The doctor's could not stop the bleeding." Ignacio paused to see the reaction of the men. Their faces showed a mix of disbelief and hate. Alejandro looked shocked, his face almost white. Ignacio smiled. Alejandro probably believed his son was a monster.

Alejandro felt as though someone had kicked him. This was the man Diego had told him about earlier. The man his son believed sent the men after him. Alejandro had never felt such hate toward any man. Not only did Fuentes have his son beaten, he was making his son appear a dishonorable man. Alejandro could not find the words to lash out with, so he kept silent, letting the anger brew.

Ignacio continued, "I challenged Diego. I knew he was the better swordsman. He was the gem of the University, the man who could do it all." Ignacio seethed with anger as he talked. His jealousy of Diego was evident in his words. He had come from a noble Spanish family. He was supposed to be the man the instructors compared the rest of the University with, the man they would tell the new students about, but Diego had taken that honor as well. Ignacio finished his story, "Diego won. He gave me the scars as a reminder of what he could do."

Don Carlos spoke up, his irritation no longer allowing him to be silent, "This is not Diego. He would never kill a man in cold blood. And if he did, why wasn't he sent to prison? Surely you would have testified against him."

"Sí, but Diego has connections in Spain, powerful friends whom I could not compete against. The incident was brushed aside. The University has influence in Madrid; its reputation was at stake. Its representative spoke in Diego's behalf," Ignacio finished. He knew many did not believe him, but some did, of that he was sure. All it took was a few who doubted, and in the end the rest would follow.

"I do not believe you," Alejandro spoke. His voice shaking slightly as he continued, "Diego would never do that. He is an honorable man. It is you who is dishonest." Alejandro stopped for a moment, wondering what he should say to defend his absent son. Alejandro was certain he knew the truth. This was the same story Diego had told with a few alterations. He felt he had no right to tell the others what Diego had told him in confidence. It must be Diego who told his side of the story.

Alejandro took a deep breath to steady his ragged nerves, "My son would never purposely kill…nor scar an innocent man. That would go against everything he believes in. As I said before, Diego is an honorable man. He would never put his wishes before justice." Alejandro looked at everyone in the tavern before continuing, "And he would never use his connections to escape justice. A man does not change so much in six years."

"That is…not true," Ignacio stumbled for a response, knowing he had lost the few men who had started to doubt Diego. "Diego has already proved he is not what he seems. You will soon learn that Diego will go to great lengths to avenge his friends…and family." Ignacio growled and turned to leave, "I will be back."

"I know, I know," Alejandro whispered after the man left.

The tavern remained silent for several minutes while its occupants tried to digest everything they had just heard. Things were revealed to quickly, and no one knew how to handle it. This was something foreign to them. Their image of Diego had just collapsed, leaving a stranger in its place.

A hushed voice broke the suffocating silence, "Alejandro…?"

Alejandro started at the sound of his name. He turned to see the worried the expressions of Don Carlos and Don Fernando. "Qué?"

Don Carlos looked at the men around the table, each nodding is head in approval, before finally speaking, "We believe in Diego. Diego may not be all we thought he was, but some things never change. Diego is an honest, admirable man, and no matter what anyone says we know this to be true."

Alejandro managed a small smile. These were true friends. They may have thought his son was cowardly, but they still admired him, and now when things looked grim, they would stand beside Diego. "Gracias, it is appreciated. I…I don't know what to think, let alone say. It seems there is more to my son then we all believed." Alejandro addressed Don Fernando, "Are you ready to leave? I need some fresh air."

Don Fernando merely nodded, unsure of what to say. He shook his head slightly as a thought wormed its way through his brain. The minute he thought it he knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't help it. He had come here to relax and forget his problems, and instead he had walked into a hornet's nest of activity. He would stay to help Diego, and in truth Diego's own problems had helped Fernando forget his.

Alejandro nodded toward each don, and turned to leave. Alejandro was wrapped up in his own thoughts and failed to notice the three dons that pushed their chairs away from the table and stood. They silently agreed that Alejandro and Diego needed help. They quietly followed Alejandro out of the inn, and mounted their own horses.

TBC

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. The more the merrier.