Diego's dreams were vivid and horrifying. He was losing everything, everything he had ever cared about. Nothing was safe. Everything was at risk. He felt like he was drowning.

Growing awareness didn't help. Waves of nausea hit him as he struggled to open his eyes, gasping for air. The lights were too bright, everything was too hard. He groaned, and rolled onto his side. His head hurt even worse than it had the other day. He needed to stay away from wine.

It took a moment for him to hear his father's voice calling his name. He had been discovered.

Zzz

"Diego…don't go back to sleep. Not just yet," Alejandro said softly.

"I'm going to be sick," Diego mumbled, and his father passed him the bowl. Diego managed to control the impulse, but didn't roll onto his back.

"You had everyone fooled…Everyone except Destara just now…"

"Destara… The man's an idiot," Diego growled.

"I know of a few more idiots," Alejandro replied. "Including myself, including you."

There was a silence.

"Are you still awake, Diego?"

"Yes."

"What are we going to do? You prefer being a vaquero, a peon, rather than the son of the richest caballero in the territory?"

"If I can be free to live as I wish," Diego said, bitterly.

"You are a little old for this sort of behaviour."

"I'm sick of being seen as foolish. As Jack I could be a man of worth, an expert in my position – someone you were honoured to ride with, not someone to deride, to mock," Diego said.

Alejandro frowned. "I'm sorry, Diego."

"I'm sorry too."

"You could have at least written to me to let me know you were alive."

Diego was silent for a moment.

"Have you done this before? Become someone we don't recognise, for the sake of being an expert?"

Diego didn't speak.

"You have. Of course you have. Dear Lord, of course you have…"

Alejandro rose from where he had sat on the bed, and began to pace. He glanced at his son, and realised Diego had drifted back to sleep. He felt like shaking his son, but he didn't have the heart to wake such an exhausted man.

Zzz

"How is he?"

Alejandro turned to see Victoria in the doorway.

"You look shocked still, Don Alejandro," she murmured. "I am a little shocked myself."

"He's ill, but that's to be expected."

"He did order some of the strongest wines available. He drank a lot."

"He never drinks…" Alejandro said what they were both thinking. "What was he thinking?"

"Vaqueros drink all the time. It's a way to entertain themselves."

"Diego is not a vaquero."

"Jack is." Victoria moved over to the bed, and gazed down at the man thoughtfully. He stirred in his sleep, and murmured something.

"It's alright, Diego." She whispered, resisting the urge to touch his hair, to tuck it back into some appearance of order. "He's so dirty."

"We'll need a bath then."

"That will be extra," Victoria said. She laughed at the look on his face. "Joking, Don Alejandro. No extra expense of course."

"And a shave...a haircut….normal clothes," Alejandro continued. "What a mess he is in!"

"He fooled us so easily, Don Alejandro, and we know him."

"Not as well as we think we do. Destara was terrified of Diego."

"I watched the fight in the plaza, and Destara wasn't afraid of Zorro. Why would he be afraid of Diego?"

"Victoria…I really think Diego would have killed the man last night, if you hadn't said anything. The look in his face was dangerous."

"Diego wouldn't even hurt a fly, Alejandro."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that. Destara wouldn't fear him for nothing, this has obviously happened before."

Zzz

Diego glanced at the hot water. The steam wafting through the air made it so inviting. He hadn't had a bath for weeks.

"You'll feel better," Alejandro said gently. "Then we'll get you some more coffee, and some soup."

Diego glanced at his father.

"You're staying?"

"I'd feel better if I did." Alejandro smiled at his son's shyness. "I'll turn my head if you like."

Diego shrugged, and unbuttoned his shirt. As he removed it, Alejandro noticed the muscles first and then the scars. Muscles that hadn't grown overnight or in weeks, and scars that had been there for years.

Diego met his eyes, and Alejandro frowned. He had to turn away as Diego finished the rest of the undressing and stepped into the bath.

"Where did you get those scars?"

"Some I got while at University," Diego said vaguely. "Some I got the other day. It's hard to keep track of them."

"Diego, I need to talk to you."

Diego nodded. "I suppose you do."

"You were Jack for how long?"

"Three weeks. I rode around for a few days, camping in the open."

"A few days in the open. It was freezing," Alejandro said alarmed.

"Diego would have caught his death of cold…yes…but Jack didn't."

"Your perfect French came in handy?"

Diego didn't comment.

"How else have you fooled me, Diego? You are an expert horseman. The whole pueblo is talking about the genius Frenchman who tames a mustang by just looking at it. You're a master swordsman – I've just witnessed that with my own eyes."

Diego glanced at him. "An expert horseman and swordsman, does that remind you of anyone we know?"

"Should it?"

"Are you Zorro?"

Diego laughed, and gasped and laughed again. Trying to compose himself, Diego was embarrassed to feel a tear trickle down his face. He laughed at himself a little. Laughing and crying, Diego looked away from his father. Alejandro knew hysterics when he saw them. The questions could wait.

Alejandro reached out, and touched his son's arm. "Diego? Let the tears come if they need to. Have you cried for Francisco? He was a good friend. Grieve for him properly."

Alejandro wished he could draw Diego into a hug, but the bath made that difficult. He sighed and stood.

"I'll just be outside, Diego." He said, realising privacy was the best thing to give a grown man reduced to hysterical tears. "Call if you need me."

Zzz

Diego felt ridiculous as he wiped at his face with the nearby towel. He had to stay strong. Everyone around him needed his support, his strength. They needed Zorro, for goodness sake. He needed to stop being selfish and stupid and remember the people needed him.

The laughter had been idiotic, Diego thought to himself. What was so funny about his life right then and there? Was he completely mad? He hoped not. No one else could hunt down those bank robbers. No one else had the courage to actually stand up to injustice.

Diego was sick of feeling useless, of being unappreciated. The woman he loved compared him unfavourably with everyone else, and thought him a fool. She was his friend, as he was hers, but Victoria treated him like a foolish younger brother.

Being Jack had been hard, the lack of normal luxuries a little hard to handle in the beginning. Jack had anonymity, and the separation of language to set him apart. Jack had skills that Diego could only dream of. Several ladies had batted their eyelashes at him – and if it weren't for his feelings for Victoria, he would have romanced them to his heart's content. No one would have judged him any more harshly than any other vaquero. No one would have prodded him towards marriage.

He felt waves of nausea wash over him again, and he sighed, sinking as far as possible into the bath. The warmth was calming, and he was starting to feel a little better. As usual his father was mostly right.