Tea and Tension
Ignacio woke with a crick in his neck, and realised he had dozed off with his head falling forward onto the bed, and Gushing Stream's hand caressing his hair.
She had fallen back against the pillows and was sleeping soundly. He glanced around him, a little disorientated. He was in the guest room with his beloved. She was weak and ill, but she had recognised him, and she loved him. She would try, for his sake. She'd already drank a good cupful of water.
He rested back down, and closed his eyes. He was going to be sore in the morning, but it didn't matter.
He woke with birds' song and a hand under his arm, hoisting him up and depositing him on the chair. He blinked a few times, and stared at the man in front of him.
"What are you doing, Ignacio?" Diego de la Vega stood there, with a frown on his face. "You need sleep, get yourself a bed."
"No," Ignacio murmured. "She needs me…I won't leave her."
Diego frowned more. "Why do I have to deal with this? I have enough to worry about at home. I'm here for her sake, not yours. Suit yourself."
"Diego…thank you," Ignacio said softly. Diego stared hard at him. Ignacio had never thanked anyone in his life, especially not Diego, or Zorro for that matter.
"You must be sick," Diego murmured. He turned to the woman in the bed, and checked her pulse and respiration, and saw the thinness in her general figure.
"She is cutting it pretty close, Ignacio. I can try the cactus tea, but there are no guarantees. She still could die. Her general health may be compromised for the rest of her life."
"Just do something," Ignacio said. He trusted the tea – almost to the point of bringing the dead to life.
"The baby may not survive the malnutrition of her body."
"I don't care about the baby, Diego. I care about her. Save her."
Diego glanced at him carefully. "Just how much sleep have you had in the last few days, Ignacio?"
Ignacio got out of the chair and moved restlessly around the room. He sighed, and stretched his back to release a bit of tension.
"I don't need a father, Diego. Or an older brother. And I already have a doctor," Ignacio murmured in Diego's general direction. "I have never really liked you."
"Feeling's mutual."
Ignacio glanced at the taller man, and saw him tending to the woman in the bed, ignoring him completely. She was stirring vaguely murmuring something. Ignacio almost pushed the other man aside to get to her, but refrained.
"Gushing Stream, I'm here," he said encouragingly, as he watched her eyes open. "We have the cactus tea. Everything is going to be alright," Ignacio added, totally discounting Diego's words.
Diego handed Ignacio the cup of warm cactus tea, and sat slowly on the chair.
"Here, my love, drink," he urged. He tipped the cactus tea up a little, and she gulped a tiny amount into her mouth. He tried again, and she sighed and turned her head a little.
"Disgusting," she murmured. "Too tired…Ignacio, I'll try again later."
Her eyes closed again, and Ignacio stood up from his seat on the bed. He sighed with pent up frustration, and glanced at Diego.
"I did tell you not to get too excited," Diego said with a tiny shrug. "I also told you to get some sleep."
He took the cup from Ignacio's hand, and moved to the nightstand again.
"And if you have some remark about not having to do what I say, it's childish and evidence that I am right to be concerned," Diego said without looking at Ignacio.
Ignacio glanced at the woman, anxiously.
"I will make her drink some more soon. Get some rest. If you become irrational near me, I will not tolerate it," Diego said quietly, with the hint of an underlying threat. "You'd better believe it."
Armand paused in the open doorway.
"Find this fool a bed, will you Armand?" Diego said, noticing the arrival of the other man.
Ignacio bristled a little. Diego had no right to treat him like he was stupid or a child. He wanted to draw a sword on the man, but there were none in the room, or on his person.
"We can spar later," Diego said with a hint of laughter in his voice, reading his mind without difficulty. He was deliberately playing with him. Ignacio looked around the room for anything he could throw at him. Even a book would be good enough. The bowl of warm cactus tea would be ideal, but he didn't know how much he had made, so it was too valuable. Diego would never get the stench out of his fine clothes - one day he would wear some, Ignacio decided.
Armand stepped into the room decisively, aware that Ignacio was feeling affronted, and coming close to losing his temper. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is a sick room right now," he said firmly. He glanced from Ignacio to Diego, obviously feeling the underlying tension in the room. "I'm sure Gushing Stream would prefer to sleep peacefully and without the sound of raised voices, or clashing swords."
"Come on Ignacio. I have a guest room right next door for you to rest in," Armand said. "Why you are both acting like jealous brothers I will never know? Get out of those clothes and I will get you a nightshirt. I think we have your luggage here somewhere by now."
The Colonel physically guided Ignacio towards bed, and made sure the fire blazed in the hearth in his room, before closing the door. Ignacio heard the key turn in the lock, and realised he had been locked in. No matter, he would have the rest they wanted him to have, and then simply pick the lock. It wasn't as if he had never done it before. He picked up the shoe he had just eased off his foot and threw it hard against the door. It felt like he was getting his point across, but it was probably childish.
He threw himself backwards onto the bed, and lay looking up at the ceiling for a few moments. It was incredibly degrading to be locked up in a guest room. Diego de la Vega had always spoiled all his fun. He should have guessed years before that he was Zorro. The man could not help but spoil his day in the mask or outside of it. After a few moments, he fell asleep contemplating the injustices of pueblo life, and masked men in general, still mostly clothed and fuming.
His dreams were restless and strange. They settled into a pattern, and became more real than scattered images, and he saw Marco approach him.
"Marco," Ignacio mumbled. "Is she dying? Is this when I lose her?"
"This is just a dream, Iggy."
"I wish you wouldn't call me that."
There was brittle laughter from his young brother, and it chilled him.
"I said you would have children, lose some, marry and lose your wife. You are losing the plot, dear brother."
"I thought you forgave me, that I was forgiven."
"That's true, but there are always consequences for our actions, good or bad. Iggy. This child you will lose. There is no choice in the matter, consequences drive our lives. Other children will come. Other days will come. You will live a long long time, as I told you before."
"You are a dream," Ignacio murmured. "No one knows the future. Diego probably could tell me if you were bad indigestion or something. Guilt from all my previous crimes. I could die tomorrow. No one knows how long they will have. Everyone needs to live their lives fully and well, because any one of else could die tomorrow. You are a dream. My guilty conscious is trying to frighten me. Stop it," Ignacio said.
Images began to flicker and spin again, and Ignacio knew he was right. Marco's voice seemed to echo in his mind, and fade as he returned to wakefulness.
Marcela was in his room, watching him sleep.
"I'm sorry from before," she murmured as she saw him wake. "Here is a nightshirt."
"Wait, Marcela. Please," he said. "Leave the door unlocked for me. She might need me in the night, please?"
"It's day time, and you do need your sleep. I was told specifically to lock the door. I would be going against my husband's wishes."
He sighed, and nodded. She leaned forward. "There is a spare key in the drawers, in case anyone ever got locked in here," she whispered. "I have to lock the door, I am sorry, Ignacio."
"Of course, I understand," he said playing the game along with her. "Thank you," he whispered to his sister. He kissed her on the forehead, and she left the room shaking her head slowly.