Diego de la Vega came to his door after a while. Ignacio was dressed in the nightshirt and thought himself a fool for wearing one in the middle of the day. He had gotten under the blankets and was contemplating either sleep or yelling for a book at the top of his lungs. Sleep was more dominant though, and he was staring into space, attracted by the patterns of light on the wall.

Diego unlocked the door, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Ignacio said with alarm. All thoughts of sleep had disappeared at the appearance of his colleague. "Gushing Stream…"

"She's asking for you," Diego said slightly annoyed. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

Ignacio nodded, and shrugged. The dreams and scattered sleep was better than nothing he supposed.

"About before," Diego began. "I don't know how much sleep you've had in the past week, but I know I haven't slept at all. We are going to come to blows before too long, if one of us can't keep our temper in check."

Ignacio smiled a little. Diego was apologizing a little. He liked the idea.

"The bandits were that difficult?" Ignacio said, thinking about what Diego's exhaustion signified.

"It depends which ones you refer to, Alcalde. The ones in the garrison jail or the ones in the cradles?" He ran a hand through his hair, slightly distracted. "I can tell you which ones are easier, and it's not the infants."

"I am the better of two evils right now?" Ignacio asked.

Diego ignored him a little. "I think you'd better come and help with her. She is getting increasingly distressed. There seems to be some sort of complication setting in," he said softly.

"Complication?"

"Respiratory distress," Diego murmured. "Ignacio, the cactus tea is not a miracle potion. She may die, and it's quite likely she will. Hope may not be enough. It may be hard for you to accept, Ignacio. You may have to accept it."

"She can't breathe properly?"

"That's the simple definition."

Ignacio stared at his clothes, folded by someone and placed on the chair near the bed. "If you'll excuse me, Don Diego, I believe I need to dress more appropriately."

Diego startled, and followed Ignacio's eyes. He chuckled, and left the room. Ignacio hurriedly changed clothes, and was finished in moments. Glancing at himself in the mirror on the wall, Ignacio realised he did not look his best. Normally it would have irritated him, but today he didn't care.

Zzzz

He sat on the chair near the bed. Gushing Stream had fallen into a light doze again. Her breathing seemed shallow and quiet, and he couldn't really see the problem.

"Ignacio," she murmured in her sleep, and her breathing changed. It was rapid and pained, and she took strained gasps, instead of soft relaxed ones. He reached for her hand, and squeezed it.

"I'm here," he assured her, hoping she would open her eyes. He could steady her gasping breaths and help her focus on him. "I'm here." He took the hand up to his lips, and kissed the back of it gently.

She opened her eyes, and glanced around frantically.

"Where is he?"

"Who, my love?"

"That monster…don't let him near me…."

"Who?"

"My husband…" She whispered in fear. "I tried to stop him…he was always there…where is Ignacio? I need Ignacio."

Ignacio glanced at Diego who shrugged in confusion. "I am here, Gushing Stream," he assured her.

She glanced wildly around the room, and he wondered why her eyes wouldn't focus on him.

"She is dreaming," Diego said after a moment. "She is not fully conscious."

"A husband, Gushing Stream?" Ignacio asked, in confusion. "What husband?"

"Don't let him near me….Please….he'll hurt me….make him stay away," Gushing Stream gasped. Ignacio held her hand tightly.

"I will challenge him with the sword, Gushing Stream. He'll never hurt you again," Ignacio said determinedly. "He will regret the day he ever laid a finger on you." He remembered the scars on her back, the ones made by the swing of a whip against soft flesh.

"Hold me…" She finally saw him, he saw the recognition light up her eyes, and he pulled the chair closer. "I need…to be…in your arms," she gasped. Ignacio glanced up at Diego.

"If I were to get into bed with her and lie next to her, would it calm her or make this worse?"

Diego looked a little shocked, and thought for a moment. "Ignacio…"

"I will just hold her close, nothing else. Would it make the breathing worse?"

Diego sighed. Gushing Stream was gasping for breath, and working herself into a state that would make it a lot worse.

"Try it – if she gets worse you will need to get out again," Diego said with a worried frown on his face.

Ignacio eased off his jacket and vest and slipped slowly into the bed, gathering his beloved into his arms. Kissing the top of her head gently, he wondered about the mention of her husband. She was terrified of the idea of him coming for her. No wonder, considering the pregnancy to another man, and the other man in question being so close by. It was no matter; he would deal with whoever wanted to threaten his beloved.

She snuggled closer to him, and he held her to his chest, murmuring soothing sounds. Gushing Stream slowly relaxed against him, her breathing settling into a better rhythm and quality than she had had before. He kissed the top of her head again, and kept an arm around her.

"Diego, what did she mean?" Ignacio whispered, as soon as he was sure she had fallen asleep again.

Diego shrugged. Ignacio hoped that the husband was long dead and it was just a strange and horrible dream, and that he had no competition apart from the lady's own stubbornness. Ignacio tried to move, and the movement sparked a sudden change in Gushing Stream's breathing again.

"Stay where you are for a while," Diego said softly. "It's helping her. Her breathing is much stronger and healthier now that it has been for hours."

"What about…you know?"

"The husband? I can make enquiries I suppose…She's been with Armand for at least a year, and no husband was on the scene. Hopefully she really is a widow, and not a deserted wife. A husband that suddenly wants a wife back after years of searching would be a determined adversary."

Ignacio considered the options of the idea. Either the lady was a widow or a wife desperate to escape a dangerous man. Somehow he couldn't believe that a husband of such a woman would have let her get so far away from him. The possibility of her widowhood was high, he realised, with some relief. He was a good swordsman, some had said very good while he was in Madrid, but facing a furious husband was a little terrifying as a concept. He had been a good soldier, but he preferred to stay a little aloof when it came to fighting serious contenders. Zorro had always had the ability to best him in a fatal way, but he had come to realise a long time ago that the masked man was never going to kill him. So his swordsmanship duels with him had never been life or death battles. With a jealous husband they would undoubtedly be a battle to the death. Perhaps Zorro would like the chance to match swords with the man.

He was jumping the gun again, he realised and sighed. He had no idea if her husband still lived, or if he was going to face him. He shifted his weight against the bedhead and Gushing Stream murmured in her sleep.

"Hush, my love. It's alright. I'm here," he whispered.

"No, it's not alright….I killed him…he's dead…" She murmured. "He's dead…"