#so now i'm 29

[wigglesdtuff]

She serves cunt, not a country

[royalarchivist]

Pepito: It doesn't matter if you're not with me all the time, I'm gonna love you.

Quackity: Aw, I'm gonna love you too, son! 🥹 I'm sorry, come here! I love you son, I love you. I just want you to know that you're my greatest son ever. I wish you could've met Tilin, because Tilin was also a great- a great daughter of mine.

Quackity: Tilin is taking care of you and me from the sky.

It means a lot to me when characters choose to keep living, despite all the horrible things they've experienced, so here's a small tribute to choosing life in spite of suffering, and to two Eggs who made life so much better for q!Quackity and everyone on the Island. ❤️

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[mstrickster]

"Torbek has trieddddd." Oh my poor baby.

[wisdomcaster]

“Come home to me.”

-Afterlife, Chapter 29

I have felt no emotions what so ever about the recent chapters of Afterlife. Nope! None at all. No emotions here. *hides behind pile of tear-stained tissues*

Go Read Afterlife. You won't regret it. Top shelf angst.

Close up and Chapter 30 Variation (Major Spoiler!) under the cut

[captainrufflebanger]

I kept forgetting to answer this

Woe.

[violetvulpini]

Learning to draw the Light siblings!

[mercurytrinemoon]

BEYONCE RELEASED HER BIRTH CERTIFICATE THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL SHE IS AN ARIEEEES RISING

[bloodyfeverdreams]

Like I Could Pull Aside the Mask, and There Would be the Face of My Son, Diego

Soooooo I know this Zorro fandom is literally so dead, as the show's been over for literally over sixty years 😅 but I was watching the show for the first time since I adore Zorro, and as I went, I got an idea for this, annnnd then this happened. Whumptober let me finish this so it counts haha. If y'all don't mind reading fanfics for fandoms you're not familiar with, I'd be really excited if you could try this one. I'll give you a guide so you can follow the story.

Don Diego de la Vega - Zorro, the main character of the show. He's convinced the rest of Los Angeles that he's a dandy, completely inept with a sword in order to keep people from discovering he's Zorro.

Don Alejandro de la Vega - Diego's loving father, who doesn't know who Zorro is under the mask.

Bernardo - Diego's manservant, and best friend. He's mute, and also pretends to be deaf so he can help Diego with being Zorro.

Tornado - Zorro's horse, who's incredibly smart.

Sergeant Garcia - A soldier of the King of Spain, who's not the brightest, who's charged with arresting Zorro while also "secretly" thinking he's a hero

Corporal Reyes - Another soldier, who's probably slightly autistic lol who takes everything Sergeant Garcia says way too literally, and is as dumb as a box of rocks.

The Eagle - The main villain of the second half of the first season.

Juan Ramos - A guy I made up for the sole purpose of hurting Diego.

pueblo - What Los Angeles was before it really became a city. When they say pueblo, they basically mean the whole city.

hacienda - Alejandro's house, he's a rancher, Diego lives there with his father after returning from university in Spain.

cuartel - basically the police force/police station

Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, let's get down to the actual story.

Adrenaline really could be a powerful drug sometimes, Diego thought vaguely. It was why he never drank too much wine when he was drinking, he never liked his senses being dulled. But sometimes, as Zorro, he would get so caught up in the simple act of not getting killed, that his world narrowed to just what he was doing. Facing multiple enemies at once will do that to a person, even the most accomplished swordsman. And while the idea of Zorro could never be destroyed, that didn’t mean that Diego de la Vega wasn’t still just a mortal man.

The Eagle’s men were often very well-trained in swordplay, some even rivaled Diego himself, and this one was no different. Juan Ramon had been sent to smuggle a supply of weapons from Mexico to the Eagle’s men waiting in the outskirts of Los Angeles. As soon as he’d figured out the Eagle’s plan, Diego donned his mask and Zorro rode, and he intercepted the wagon full of the concealed weapons, redirecting it to Sergeant Garcia to prevent any of the Eagle’s men from getting their hands on it. The shipment of weapons had been stopped, but Ramon decided to ride with Sergeant Garcia to capture Zorro, citing the reward. It had been all too easy to evade the Sergeant, as it usually was, but Ramon wasn’t so easily misled, continuing to race after him as he rode on Tornado.

Tornado was the fastest horse in the pueblo, but it seemed nothing would stop Ramon from capturing Zorro. Ramon’s sword slashed at his back, slicing through some of his cape. So he’d turned Tornado around to fight the man honorably, though it seemed the man had none, and their swords began to clash in the darkness. Ramon was a fierce swordsman, a true challenger to Diego’s skills. Being Zorro for so long, he’d gotten very used to fighting in the dark, so he could parry Ramon’s strikes, though fighting on horseback was quite difficult. He didn’t just have to protect himself but he had to protect Tornado. He had no doubt that this man would strike Tornado just to get to him. As his blood thundered through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, Diego felt the world narrowing to this fight, keeping himself and Tornado alive.

Luck it seemed was on his side though, and he could hear the rattle of a snake in between the crashes of their swords. Ramon’s horse bucked into the air, causing Ramon’s last thrust to veer off course as Ramon was thrown from his horse. Diego could sense that Tornado hadn’t seen the snake yet, though his good friend clearly heard it, and he used his new advantage to ride away before Ramon could get back on his horse to chase after him.

But something strange began to happen as he rode to the hacienda. His vision began to blur a little around the edges as his heart couldn’t slow down. Diego could tell that something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what, this had never happened to him before. He tried to ignore it, hoping if he just made it home, he could deal with it then, but black spots began to dance across his vision as he rode. After checking that no one was following him, he had Tornado slow down, thinking that would ease his heart into something calmer. Again, it didn’t. Black spots still began to dance across his vision, actually if anything they got worse. At this point, Diego knew that something was terribly wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. He began to slump a little in his saddle, and he became aware of a distant throbbing in his right side. He urged Tornado home, never more grateful that Tornado was the smartest horse in the state, as he was losing the ability to guide Tornado himself.

The throbbing in his side was beginning to get stronger, turning sharper and fouler with a kind of pain he’d never felt before, and he felt himself getting weaker and weaker far too quickly. Diego’s hands then came to his right side, trying to ascertain what was causing his unusual and unpleasant feelings. He ran his fingers up the right side of his shirt, and found part of it to be wet for some reason. He didn’t understand, his sharp, witty mind moving unusually slow, and he looked down at himself.

Wearing all black often let him move around in the pueblo in complete secrecy, moving as one with the shadows. But something he’d never thought of before was that being dressed in black would prevent him from seeing things like blood when they started to stain through his shirt. It wasn’t until he noticed that his shirt was ripped that he even saw the wound. It seemed Ramon’s last strike had found its mark.

All at once, when he finally registered he was wounded, the pain slammed into him like a horse kicking him in the chest. He doubled over, crying out as his hand covered the wound, and his breath left him like he’d been punched in the stomach. His mind went a little dizzy at seeing his flesh sliced open, and he leaned on Tornado to keep himself upright.

“Tornado, take, ahh, take me home.” Diego murmured, his eyes having trouble staying open. But he trusted Tornado, as he was the smartest horse Diego had ever met, and he knew his friend would get him home.

Darkness started to pull at him a little as Tornado trotted along carefully, as if sensing his master was wounded. Pull it together, he thought to himself, the hacienda wasn’t far. He just had to make it back home, and then Bernardo would be able to get him a doctor. He was sure Bernardo would be able to make some excuse of why Diego had been stabbed that didn’t involve Zorro. Probably in a way that made his father disappointed in him again.

Diego’s thoughts began to stray as the pain became unbearable, his body lurching with every step Tornado took. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking of his father, and the disappointed look he always had in his eyes whenever Diego backed down from a fight. Maybe because he’d just fought proudly and honorably for the people he and his father wanted to protect, but his father would never know it. He preferred it that way of course, because he never wanted his father to get caught up in his adventures of Zorro, as he risked his life often and losing his father would absolutely destroy him. But that didn’t make disappointing him any easier.

Thoughts of his father drifted as his body got weaker, as his mind lost the ability to think beyond the pain. He was slumping further and further in the saddle, his body now laying against Tornado’s neck, as he was unable to sit up anymore. His blinks got longer, heavier, his eyes feeling like lead, and he was losing the strength to keep them open.

“Torn’ado, get… get ‘ernardo. Get help…” Diego whimpered, the pain overwhelming him to the point where he could barely speak anymore. The adrenaline that had kept him going this entire time was fading, and he was losing what little strength he had.

But Diego couldn’t see his horse’s answer, as his eyes slipped closed and stayed closed. His body went limp, and he slowly slid out of the saddle. He collapsed onto the ground with a soft groan. He felt Tornado nuzzle his face, heard the fright in his friend’s neighs, but he couldn’t respond beyond a low moan. Tornado tried to get him up once more, but Diego still lay unmoving on his side. With the little bit of strength he had left, Diego tried to reach out to Tornado, unsure of what he was even reaching for, but desperate to try and not give into this darkness. Even though Zorro was a fearless hero, Diego was still just a man, and he was scared he was going to die here in the dirt, away from anyone he loved. His hand trembled as he fought as hard as he could, putting all of his remaining strength into trying to move, but his hand went slack as the little strength he had waned, and he collapsed into darkness.

Originally, Alejandro had wanted Diego to ride with him this morning since he thought that getting some fresh air would do his bookworm son some good, but when he knocked, Diego hadn’t answered. He assumed his son must still be asleep, having stayed up late due to his books and poems, no doubt. Thinking that he’d just see his son at breakfast,  Alejandro decided to ride  across his hacienda alone.

Riding across the hacienda every morning had become a part of his routine when he’d sent Diego off to Spain to finish his education. He’d missed his son terribly, so he’d taken to riding in the morning to clear his head to start the day. Diego had always loved riding when he was younger, so Alejandro rode in the mornings to make him feel close to his son while he was gone. And even though Diego had returned from Spain, Alejandro still missed the young boy he’d sent to college. Diego had been such a rambunctious youth, always getting into trouble, always swinging his sword at every problem in an effort to imitate his father. He wasn’t sure what had changed in his son during university, but something had. So Alejandro still rode every morning to clear his head, to let him focus on the day ahead of him, and to think about his son. He’d tried to understand, tried to get Diego to tell him what had happened to him, but Diego had suddenly become very evasive over his true feelings, and he wouldn’t speak to his father the way he used to. Whatever it was that had happened, he hoped that Diego would tell him eventually. He wanted his son to trust him, regardless of what path he walked in life.

A horse’s neigh started him out of his thoughts, and he was stunned to see Zorro’s black horse riding up to him. He’d only seen the horse a few times when he’d run into the outlaw, but it seemed that Zorro owned the only black horse in the entire pueblo, and everyone would recognize the horse on sight. But something was wrong, as an experienced ranchero like him would immediately spot the tell-tale signs in the horse. The horse came up to Alejandro without fear, and bucked a little. Alejandro could tell the horse knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Where is your master, horse?” Alejandro murmured, very confused as to why he was seeing Zorro’s horse without seeing Zorro. The horse still had his complete saddle on so Zorro must have been with him last night. Then the horse then nipped at his arm, gently grasping Alejandro’s jacket and pulling. The kind of control Zorro’s horse had of nipping at him without hurting him was incredible, and Alejandro wondered how Zorro had been able to train his horse so well. The horse nipped at him again, clearly trying to communicate through their language barrier, and he could tell the horse clearly thought whatever it was it was urgent.

“You want me to follow you, is that it?” Alejandro asked, and even though he hadn’t been expecting an answer, it seemed the horse was smarter than Alejandro thought and immediately took off. The horse turned a little, looking at him, and Alejandro nudged his own horse on, following Zorro’s horse.

When the horse realized that Alejandro was indeed following him, Zorro’s horse took off like a shot. Alejandro had to ride quickly to keep up, and the faster the horse ran, the more worried he became. Dread churned in his gut the more distance they covered, and Alejandro wondered what he would find when they finally reached their destination. Animals were often much smarter than most people thought, especially the ones who didn’t spend their lives raising them and training them. But Alejandro was an expert in horses, and he knew that Zorro’s horse wouldn’t have left his master without a good reason.

His eyes went wide when he finally saw what the horse had been leading him to. Zorro was lying on the ground, facedown, in a pool of blood, and he didn’t seem to be moving. Alejandro couldn’t even tell if the man was even breathing. Even though Zorro was a bandit, an outlaw, Alejandro respected him immensely for always riding for justice. He hadn’t forgotten how Zorro had saved him from Comandante Monastario, and how he owed Zorro his life. So Alejandro acted immediately, dismounting the moment he saw the still form of the hero, and he rushed to the man’s side. His hands hovered over Zorro for a moment, but then Alejandro grabbed the man’s shoulder and rolled him over, instantly leaning down to the man’s chest to check his heart. Alejandro could hear the soft thump-thump of Zorro’s heart, though he thought it sounded a little too fast, but the important thing was that the man was alive, and that meant that Alejandro could help him.

Even though Alejandro was getting up in years, he was still able to slide his arms underneath Zorro’s back and knees and he was able to lift the man into the air. He whistled his horse down, and with his horse kneeling, he was able to finagle the unconscious man onto his saddle and get behind him. Zorro was a little taller than he was, just about Diego’s height, so his head lolled onto Alejandro’s shoulder as they began to ride away. Alejandro had one hand on his horse’s reins and the other over Zorro’s chest, holding the unconscious man in the saddle as he whistled for his horse to take them back to the hacienda. Even though Alejandro hadn’t said anything, Zorro’s horse trailed after them, still upset and as frantic as a horse could get, easily matching his horse’s strides. Zorro truly had a magnificent horse, he’d never seen a horse so loyal before.

As they rode home, Alejandro wondered how long Zorro had been lying unconscious on the ground before his horse found Alejandro, how long his horse had clearly sought help. Zorro rocked back and forth limply in Alejandro’s arms as they rode, and Alejandro’s grip got tighter as they approached the hacienda. Even though he was being bounced around a little on Alejandro’s horse, Zorro still hadn’t woken up, and a pit of dread was starting to form in Alejandro’s stomach. With Zorro’s head on his shoulder, he could feel the man’s shallow breathing, and he prayed that he had gotten to the heroic outlaw in time to save the man’s life.

The hacienda was quiet as Alejandro approached, which was usual, as his vaqueros were already out taking care of the cattle and horses, and the servants were most likely still preparing breakfast. Alejandro rode into his hacienda, and he opened his mouth to call Diego down so he could help, but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to put any of his servants or employees in any danger by associating with someone who helped Zorro, even if they loved Zorro. But thankfully, Diego’s manservant exited Diego’s room, probably having just woken Diego for breakfast. Bernardo saw them almost immediately, and he ran down the stairs, coming right up to Alejandro and Zorro. Alejandro dismounted his horse, and Bernardo helped him ease Zorro’s limp body down from his horse and together, they wrapped his arms around their shoulders.

Unfortunately, Zorro’s horse had followed them into the hacienda, still very attached to his master, and Alejandro tried to gently shoo the horse away.

“Go on, horse.” Alejandro waved the horse away with the hand not currently holding the still unconscious Zorro. “We’ve got him, you’ve got to get out of here. It’s dangerous, you must go.”

The horse just neighed and bucked in response, obviously not wanting to leave Zorro’s side. But in order to keep Zorro safe, it had to be a complete secret that he was here, and this horse was far too recognizable. Bernardo turned to him and gestured for him to take all of Zorro’s weight. Alejandro was confused, but Diego trusted this man, and he trusted Diego’s judgment. So he held the limp Zorro in his arms as Bernardo approached Zorro’s horse. Strangely enough, the horse actually reacted to the deaf-mute. When the man put his hand on the horse’s chest, the horse calmed a little. Bernardo then pointed for the horse to leave, and miraculously, Zorro’s horse actually trotted away, obviously returning to where he lived with Zorro. Alejandro stared at Bernardo for a moment, completely bewildered by the man’s actions, but Bernardo then took Zorro’s other arm from him and wrapped it around his shoulders. Alejandro knew he could be confused as to why Zorro’s horse had reacted to a man he’d never met later, right now, they had to get Zorro into the hacienda where no one would stumble upon him.

“We need to find shelter for him.” Alejandro said, and then cursed himself as the man stared at him a little. Right, he couldn’t hear. Lord, he didn’t know how Diego communicated so well with the man. Bernardo then pointed to Diego’s room, and Alejandro nodded. Diego would have no issues giving up his bed for Zorro. He knew that Diego always spoke about how Zorro was a criminal, but he knew the twinkle in his son’s eyes when he was teasing, even if others didn’t.

So Alejandro and Bernardo carried Zorro’s unconscious body up the stairs, and maneuvered him into Diego’s room. Surprisingly, his son wasn’t there as he’d expected Diego to be. He wanted to ask where Diego was, but Bernardo couldn’t hear so that would have to be a question for later. Maybe his son had already gone down for an early breakfast.

Carefully, Alejandro and Bernardo laid Zorro down on Diego’s still made bed. Alejandro removed Zorro’s hat and torn cape, and Bernardo removed Zorro’s shoes and gloves. Then Alejandro gently pulled at the fabric stuck to Zorro’s skin, and hissed at the sight in sympathy. There was a roughly three inch gash in the man’s right side, dried blood mixing in with the dirt Alejandro had found him in. When Bernardo saw the gash, his face was extremely expressive in his worry. Bernardo placed his hand on Zorro’s forehead, and Zorro’s cheeks. He looked at Alejandro, clearly frightened and Alejandro gently touched the man’s skin around the wound. Dammit. It was already warm with fever. Alejandro cursed under his breath.

“Okay. We have to clean the wound, and no one can know he’s here.” Alejandro said slowly, trying to use gestures to explain what he was saying. Thankfully, the man seemed to understand, and he nodded. Alenajdro then gestured to the room, and the books that Diego loved so much. “Where’s Diego?”

Bernardo struggled a little, his gestures not making any sense. Alejandro sighed, wondering how Diego dealt with this all the time. At least his bookworm son had learned patience in Spain. Bernardo then shrugged, and Alejandro sighed. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Well, he could worry about where Diego had disappeared to later. Zorro needed him now. He trusted his son, Diego would be alright without his father and his manservant for a little while. His son was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

“Go get some water and several soft cloths.” Alejandro said, and tried to mime that to Bernardo. Even though Alejandro was not used to communicating only with his hands, Bernardo nodded quickly, and slipped out of the room. Having been deaf his whole life, he was probably very used to understanding gestures.

Even though Alejandro only knew cattle and horses, and wasn’t a doctor himself, he’d seen enough injuries over the course of his life that he had a fair idea of what to do. He had to clean the wound, stitch Zorro back up, and let him rest for at least a few days so he could recover from the blood loss and fever. He hoped that that was all Zorro needed, as Alejandro wouldn’t risk bringing a doctor to the hacienda unless it was at the uttermost end of need. The less people who knew of this secret the better.

Bernardo was rather quick in his return, carrying a large basin of water with several soft washcloths. Alejandro cleared a space on Diego’s nightstand for the man to set everything down. Alejandro then tried to gesture for Bernardo to lock Diego’s door, and he nodded quickly. At least now no one would be able to come in unannounced. Diego would understand why he was locked out of his own room once he came home.

When the man returned to Diego’s bed, worry still written clearly on his face, he pointed at Zorro, and then pretended to undress himself. Alejandro nodded resolutely. “You’re right, let’s get his shirt off.”

Bernardo then came around to the other side of Diego’s bed, and carefully, they eased Zorro’s body into somewhat of a sitting position. Alejandro ripped the already torn sash around Zorro’s waist and removed his gloves, and Bernardo supported Zorro’s unconscious body as Alejandro began to slowly try to remove Zorro’s shirt. The man moaned softly in pain as he did so, and while it hurt Alejandro’s heart, he was almost glad for it. The heroic outlaw wasn’t too far gone if he was still able to make noises. Bernardo helped Alejandro wrangle Zorro’s limp arms out of his shirt before they managed to pull it off his head. The pull of the fabric pulled a little at Zorro’s mask and bandana, and when that happened, Alejandro saw Zorro’s eyes open a little. He must have trained himself to recognize anything trying to unmask him, even when he was barely conscious.

“No… n-no…” Zorro whimpered, his trembling hand trying to come to his mask.

“Shh, it’s alright, Zorro. You’re safe here.” Alejandro took Zorro’s hand and squeezed gently. Zorro weakly tried to pull away, his hand trying to come back to his mask. Alejandro could see the fear in Zorro’s eyes, so he spoke with pure conviction, his only goal reassuring the outlaw. “I give you my word, Zorro. We will not unmask you. You’re safe here.”

Zorro stared at him with brown eyes that reminded him of Diego, and he must have seen Alejandro’s sincerity even though the haze of his fever, and he nodded a little, his head then falling limply down as his hand clutched Alejandro’s as tightly as he could. It frightened Alejandro with just how weak Zorro’s grip was.

“... hurts.” Zorro moaned, clearly insentient from the fever, as Alejandro doubted that the masked man would ever admit he was in pain if he were fully in control of his wits.

Again, Alejandro was reminded of Diego, of a time when Diego had been about twelve years old, still young but trying so hard to be a man like his father. Diego had climbed a tree to impress the young Rosarita Cortez, but he’d been more concerned about showing off to the girl he was infatuated with than caution, and he’d slipped and fallen out of the tree. He’d landed hard on his left wrist, and Alejandro had immediately taken him to the doctor in town. As Diego had clung to him in the saddle, he’d made the same exact sound, whispering that it hurts. He’d been trying very hard not to cry, but constantly being jostled around in the saddle had overwhelmed the small boy. But Alejandro had promised his young son that admitting he was in pain was a strength, and not a weakness. Diego then started sobbing into his father’s shirt as Alejandro rode to the doctor, and he comforted his young son as best as he could. If he remembered correctly, Diego still had the scar on his left wrist from the break, even though he’d fully healed years ago. But now was not the time to reminisce about his son. He needed to think about the man in front of him now.

Somehow, as if sensing Zorro’s distress, Bernardo then pulled down Zorro’s mask so it properly covered his face again. The restoration of his mask seemed to calm the outlaw, and his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious. Alejandro wondered if he should let the man sleep again, as what he was about to do was going to be painful, but he also didn’t want the man slipping into unconsciousness again to the point where Zorro wouldn’t wake up again.

“Lay him back down.” Alejandro said, there was silence and stillness for a moment, and then he gestured for Bernardo to lay him back down. Gently, Bernardo laid Zorro back down, careful with his head, until Zorro was once again laying flat in Diego’s bed.

Alejandro then reached over, grabbed a small cloth, and dipped it into the water. The water was only slightly cool, and Alejandro hoped that this wouldn’t be too much of a shock to Zorro’s fevered skin. Bernardo then got his attention, and gestured for a cloth of his own. He mimed placing something on his eyes, and Alejandro nodded, understanding. He handed Bernardo the cloth he’d had and grabbed another one. Bernardo folded the damp cloth and then placed it over Zorro’s eyes, over his mask. Alejandro hoped that would help ease the heroic outlaw into knowing that his secret was safe with them.

Taking a deep breath, Alejandro then brought the cool cloth to Zorro’s right side, starting with the skin around the wound. Zorro whimpered in pain at the touch of the cool cloth, but Alejandro knew he couldn’t stop even if his actions were going to cause the man pain. He slowly began to wipe away the dried blood and dirt around Zorro’s wound, trying not to use too much pressure but also trying to make sure he washed off all of the dirt around the wound. As he worked, he saw Bernardo out of the corner of his eye, gently stroking Zorro’s cheek, most likely trying to do what little he could to comfort the suffering man.

Stroke after stroke, Alejandro used gentle pressure to wipe away the dried blood and dirt around the gash in Zorro’s side. He tried to ignore the soft noises of pain that slipped past the outlaw’s lips, knowing that even though this hurt, he needed to clean the wound so Zorro could heal. But each noise twisted his gut a little, even if his hands remained steady as he cleansed the man’s skin. For a reason Alejandro couldn’t figure out, Zorro’s noises of pain sounded almost exactly like Diego. Alejandro ignored it, thinking that it was just his paternal instincts responding to Zorro’s pain as Zorro had the same eyes as his son. Though, Zorro clearly had much more muscle than his scholarly son, training to fence as well to be as skilled as Zorro was would of course build up that muscle. He wished Diego had put that much devotion into his fencing skills rather than his books. He’d heard from around town of just how hopeless his son was with a sword, which he didn’t understand. Diego had been a fine swordsman when he’d left for Spain. Even if he didn’t fence the entire time he was there, he shouldn’t be so hopeless now.

Even though Alejandro couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to Diego, his hands moved just as they should. Slowly, carefully, he gently cleared away the dried blood and dirt away from Zorro’s right side. When he finished, he looked back up at Zorro. Bernardo was still softly stroking his cheek, and Alejandro saw droplets of water running down Zorro’s cheeks. Alejandro hoped that they were from the cool compress over his eyes, rather than the poor man being in so much pain that he was crying, though he knew it was probably the latter. Alejandro sighed. Unfortunately, it was only going to get worse.

“Bernardo, hold him down.” Alejandro said, trying to gesture to the deaf-mute. “This is going to be painful.”

He saw the fear on Bernardo’s face, as if he could hear the grimness in Alejandro’s tone, but most likely, he just understood what had to come next. Bernardo shifted a little, using his arm to pin Zorro’s shoulder’s to the bed. Using his other arm, Alejandro pinned Zorro’s waist to the bed, and he took another deep breath, trading the dirty cloth for a clean one.

Alejandro then brought the clean cloth to the wound itself. Zorro shrieked in pain as soon as Alejandro touched it, but Bernardo quickly covered Zorro’s mouth, trying to muffle the shrieks and groans of pain as Alejandro worked. The wound had stopped bleeding at some point during the night, but as soon as he began to try and wipe the dirt from the gash, it started bleeding sluggishly once again. Having been a ranchero all his life, Alejandro was very used to blood, human or cattle. But out of all the blood he’d seen in his life, this was the worst. This wasn’t some vaquero who’d been gored by a bull for getting too close to his mate, this wasn’t a man who’d accidentally cut himself as he was fixing the perimeter fence, this wasn’t a man who’d been kicked by a horse. This was a man who’d been intentionally injured because he fought for justice and cared about all people in the pueblo. Still, Alejandro had to do a job to keep the man alive, so he pushed away all thoughts of the cruelty of this wound.

With Bernardo muffling Zorro’s sounds as best as he could, Alejandro worked, trying to get all of the grime in the wound. He had to use a fair amount of his strength to keep Zorro pinned down, but he tried not to focus on that, on how much pain this was causing the man. He just did his best to work as quickly as he could without losing his caution and attention to detail. It felt like it took hours upon hours to make sure there was no more dirt in the wound, but just as he was finishing up, Zorro went completely limp in their arms. The poor man must have passed out from the pain. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but at least the man wasn’t in agony anymore. Alejandro finished cleaning the wound as Zorro lay unconscious in Diego’s bed, and he sighed heavily when he thought that this would be as clean as he could get a wound like this.

Alejandro then stood up, taking the bloody rags, and threw them in Diego’s fireplace. When he turned back to the man, he saw silent tears running down Bernardo’s cheeks as he continued to stroke Zorro’s face. Even though the man couldn’t hear the horrid cries of excruciating pain he’d been trying to muffle, it seemed he could still tell just how much pain Zorro had been in, and tried to do what little he could to comfort the outlaw. Alejandro then placed his hand on Bernardo’s shoulder, surprising the man a little, but the deaf-mute just nodded at him. The man then started miming the act of sewing, and Alejandro motioned for him to continue. Bernardo then slipped off of Diego’s bed, and went to his desk. He ruffled around for a little bit before returning with some skin sewing thread, which confused Alejandro.

“Why does Diego have medical supplies in his desk?” Alejandro asked.

Bernardo must have understood the question even though he didn’t hear it, and he picked up one of Diego’s books, and pulled his hand back as if he’d been injured.

“He has sewing thread for the skin in case of a papercut?” Alejandro said incredulously, unable to believe that Diego would have something so extreme for something as insignificant as a papercut.

Again, Bernardo seemed to understand, probably going off of his facial expression, and he shook his head. He mimed getting another papercut, and Alejandro realized he’d gotten the wrong conclusion from his actions. Bernardo then mimed riding a horse, and Alejandro finally thought he understood. The man was just using a book to imitate the sensation of getting cut. He remembered how Diego had struggled to ride Princessa even though he was a fantastic rider, how sore he’d been after he’d slipped off of her. When he’d seen his son on the ground, he’d been afraid that Diego had been seriously hurt. Suddenly hitting the ground after being on a horse could cause any manner of injuries. Diego must have the thread because he knew just how dangerous it was to be thrown from a horse, and that sometimes the doctor couldn’t be reached immediately. If anything, his bookworm son had a good, logical head on his shoulders.

“I understand, come here.” Alejandro said, waving the man closer. Bernardo came to him, handing him the thread. He could see the hesitance in the deaf-mute’s face as Bernardo mimed sewing, clearly trying to ask a question.

“Yes, I can do this.” Alejandro nodded. He’d stitched up small wounds on cattle before, so he was confident that he could handle this. He then guided Bernardo’s hands to Zorro’s skin, lightly pressing the wound together. Zorro made another small sound of discomfort but he didn’t move, so Alejandro assumed the man was still unconscious, and Alejandro thought this was the best time to do this.

Alejandro threaded the needle, and with a fierce determination, he began to sew Zorro’s skin together. The process was arduously slow, and every time the needle pierced Zorro’s flesh, he let out another soft noise of pain, feeling the agony even as he slept. It broke Alejandro’s heart, but he didn’t let that affect him. Bernardo had turned away, unable to keep looking as Alejandro stitched the gash closed, and Alejandro didn’t blame him. Sometimes even the most experienced vaquero could be sick at the sight of an injury like this.

Puncture right, push through, puncture under the left, pull, switch sides, then repeat. The repetitive process of sewing Zorro’s skin back together was grueling, as the man had never stopped making those small noises of pain that reminded far too much of Diego. But eventually, after what felt like ten hours but was actually about ten minutes, and roughly twenty stitches later, Alejandro finished stitching the wound shut. Zorro’s skin kept twitching a little as his body adjusted to the stitches, but Alejandro knew that the man’s body would calm after a little while. Alejandro readjusted the cool compress over Zorro’s eyes, feeling Zorro’s warm forehead, but other than keeping Zorro safe and helping with his fever, Alejandro wasn’t sure what else he could do to help the outlaw.

As soon as Alejandro had finished stitching, Bernardo had let go, just staring sadly at Zorro. Alejandro grabbed Bernardo’s shoulder, trying to do what he could to comfort the man. Bernardo just looked at him. Bernardo then gestured to Zorro, and then mimed looking for something and then a question mark.

“I’m not sure,” Alejandro said, still speaking aloud even though the man couldn’t hear him. “I don’t know if the soldiers know he’s wounded, but I suppose it’s only a matter of time. So we must keep his presence here a complete secret.”

Alejandro tried to communicate his words in gestures, which was still a struggle, but Bernardo nodded, so he assumed he might have done something right. He then looked to Diego’s locked door, wondering where his son was. Diego wasn’t the type to go missing for such long periods of time. Alejandro noticed that Diego’s bed hadn’t seemed slept in, but he just assumed that Diego had gotten up during his father’s ride and Bernardo had just remade the bed. Of all the times to be off by himself reading his books or doing whatever it was that he was doing. His son truly had become a mystery since his return from Spain.

But now that the worst part was over, Alejandro was able to focus on other things again. Alejandro then got Bernardo’s attention.

He pointed at Zorro, and then tried to mime riding a horse, and then used his fingers trying to imitate how Zorro’s horse had listened to the deaf-mute. “How on earth did you get Zorro’s horse to obey you?”

Bernardo seemed to understand his question, and then he pointed at Zorro and also mimed riding a horse. He then mimed a lasso, and reached out and held an imaginary horse. Finally he mimed a spoof of one of the king’s soldiers.

“Ah, when Zorro’s horse had been captured by the soldiers, yes.” Alejandro murmured, speaking aloud instinctively. He nodded and then motioned for Bernardo to continue.

Bernardo pointed to himself and used his fingers to imitate walking and then the horse again.

“You were walking by where they were keeping the horse.”

Bernardo mimed the satirized version of a soldier again. Then he mimed a whip, and Alejandro gasped lightly.

“One of the soldiers was whipping Zorro’s horse?” Alejandro asked. “How dishonorable, attacking a defenseless animal like that.”

Bernardo continued as if he hadn’t spoken, miming the whip again, and catching it in the air. He then waved his finger from side to side in a fierce ‘no’.

“You tried to stop him.” Alejandro nodded, putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. Bernardo had been near the corral, and had tried to intervene when he saw the soldier whipping the horse. With as smart as Zorro’s horse seemed to be, that easily explained how Zorro’s horse knew that Bernardo could be trusted. “So he knows you as a friend. I see.”

It was very lucky indeed that Alejandro had been the one who found Zorro. The horse would’ve followed his master into the hacienda of whoever had found him, as everyone in the pueblo would have taken Zorro in, and they might not have been able to send the horse away. He did wonder where the horse went, but Zorro needed his attention more. He had wanted to wait a little to wrap the wound, wanting to give the poor man a break as his body adjusted to the stitches, but now it was time to continue.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Alejandro said slowly, trying his best to mime out his words. “I have some extra bandages in my room from when I was injured, I need to go get them.”

Bernardo nodded. Alejandro still marveled at how easily Bernardo was able to understand him, even though he couldn’t hear him. Alejandro then slipped out of Diego’s room, and carefully came to his own room. He searched through his drawers and found the bandages. As long as the wound didn’t reopen, he thought what he had would be enough.

A knock startled him, and he shoved the bandages into his pocket to hide them. He took a deep breath to steady himself before answering, “Yes?”

“Senor, breakfast is ready.” Alejandro sighed, recognizing his servant’s voice. He’d been afraid that it would be a soldier looking for Zorro.

Alejandro then exited his room. “I shall come down for it later, my son and I have some important business to attend to. I ask that you don’t disturb us.”

The servant nodded, and Alejandro just sighed, walking causally back to Diego’s room. But he trusted his son. Diego was a smart boy, when he returned if anyone asked about this ‘new important business’, his son would easily catch on that his father needed him.

He was beginning to become worried, as it was not like his son to go somewhere where he’d be gone for a while without telling anyone. But he trusted his son to be careful. He was sure Diego was alright. As his father, he felt he’d know if something happened to his son. Still, the longer Diego went without coming home, the more worried he became. Oh mijo, where are you?

Alejandro slipped back into Diego’s room, and pulled the bandages out of his pocket. Bernardo helped ease Zorro into a sitting position again, causing the man to again make a soft noise of pain as they unfortunately jostled his wound. Bernardo then got his attention and mimed a circle and then pointed at himself. It seemed Bernardo wanted to wrap the bandages. Alejandro nodded, seeing no reason to deny him, and handed him the cotton bandages.

Holding Zorro by the shoulders, Alejandro then adjusted himself so he was holding Zorro upright. Bernardo then began to softly wrap the bandages around Zorro’s wound. The man’s touch was incredibly delicate, almost reverent, like he was bandaging a close friend. Maybe Zorro had thanked him for rescuing his horse from that cruel, dishonorable man in some sort of way and Bernardo felt indebted to him as he did, as many did after encountering the hero.

Alejandro watched as Bernardo’s nimble fingers wrapped the white cotton around Zorro’s abdomen. Bernardo moved quickly but tenderly, making sure not to cause any further pain to the hero. He seemed very experienced in this, and a small part of Alejandro hoped that he’d just learned how to do this in his training as a manservant, and not because he’d bandaged an injured Diego before. He hoped that wasn’t what changed his son while he was in Spain. He’d seen the aftereffects of some battles that left men shaking whenever they held a sword again.

Swathes of white soon covered Zorro’s abdomen, and Bernardo tied the two ends together. Together, they laid Zorro against the pillows once more, and adjusted him so he’d be as comfortable as he could be. Alejandro sighed. At least now, all they needed to do was let Zorro rest. They shouldn’t need to cause him any more pain.

With Zorro taken care of Alejandro needed to tend to the hacienda as he always did, trying to assume a look of normalcy. No one could suspect that Zorro was here, that anything was out of the ordinary. And even though Alejandro wanted to remain with Zorro, to watch over the hero as he had watched over Alejandro, it would be better for him to keep the secret and act completely normal. That would keep him the safest.

“Watch over him.” Alejandro said, pointing to his eyes and to Zorro. “I need to tend to the hacienda, otherwise it will seem suspicious.”

Bernardo nodded, and Alejandro placed his hand on Bernardo’s shoulder before heading out. Even though he didn’t really feel like eating, he went down to breakfast anyway. Maybe Diego would be there, waiting with a smile that always calmed Alejandro’s heart.

Bernardo had been exhausted from waiting up all night for Diego to return, but the second he saw his friend in Don Alejandro’s arms, he’d suddenly become wide awake. It was as if he’d drunk a whole keg of coffee, his heart racing in his chest at seeing his friend so injured. Bernardo knew that being Zorro was risky for Diego, it was risky for him too when he joined his friend, but this was the first time Diego had really gotten injured. There had been that one instance when Diego had hit his head against a rock, but he’d been fine afterwards, except for a rather strong headache. He’d been perfectly fine after a little rest. This injury would not go away so easily.

Holding Diego down as his father cleaned the wound was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Hearing Don Alejandro’s promise to not unmask Diego had been slightly comforting, but his friend was so injured, already afflicted with fever that it was hard to feel it. He’d had trouble keeping up the ruse that he was also deaf, especially when Diego had started screaming in pain. Covering his mouth to muffle his sounds broke Bernardo’s heart, but he knew it was necessary. Diego couldn’t be found here like this, unable to defend himself, and Diego certainly wouldn’t want his father being implicated in helping Zorro, no matter what state he was in.

When Diego finally passed out from the pain, Bernardo didn’t know whether to be grateful or distraught. While he hated to see his friend be in pain, he longed to see Diego’s eyes open once again, so Bernardo could see that he was alive, he was awake. But even in unconsciousness, Diego wasn’t relieved of the pain. He’d kept stroking Diego’s face as gently as he could, trying to bring what little softness and comfort he could to his best friend, trying to give Diego something to focus on that wasn’t the horrible pain he was in. Unfortunately, it hadn’t seemed to work, as Diego continued to make those soft noises of pain as Don Alejandro worked, even after he’d finally lost consciousness.

Bernardo had almost been sick at having to hold the two edges of Diego’s skin closer so Don Alejandro could stitch them together, but he forced himself to be strong for his friend. Diego had always been so strong for him, defending him from people who thought that his inability to speak was a deficiency and made him unintelligent. It was one of the main reasons he’d become so devoted to Diego, who never got frustrated with him because he couldn’t speak. In Spain, Diego had never let anyone speak ill of Bernardo, even dueling a couple of people because they insulted him. Diego was one of the kindest, most patient men he’d ever met, and Bernardo would do anything for the man who had become his best friend. He’d never thought he’d become best friends with someone who was sixteen years younger than him, but Diego was special. He’d never had such a good friend before. So no matter what, no matter how ugly or hard this healing process would be for him to watch, he’d see Diego through this if it killed him.

When Don Alejandro told him he was leaving to keep up appearances, Bernardo nodded, wanting some time alone with his friend. Bernardo locked the door behind him, so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Slumping a little in relief, Bernardo immediately came back to his friend. Gently, Bernardo removed Diego’s bandana and then his mask. This time, Diego’s eyes remained closed, knowing Bernardo’s touch even in sleep. Bernardo then dipped another one of the cloths into the water, and began to dab at the dirt still on Diego’s face, trying hard not to wake him. Judging by the dirt on Diego’s body, he must have fallen off of Tornado at some point. He wondered how long Diego had laid in the dirt before Don Alejandro had found him.

Tenderly, Bernardo began to reveal Diego’s soft skin from under the dirt. His friend slept on, unaware, only occasionally murmuring nonsense in his sleep. He’d never known Diego to talk in his sleep before, but fevers often did strange things to people. So he just focused on his task, gently cleansing Diego’s face with the cool water. This way, Don Alejandro didn’t have to do it and they wouldn’t have to risk Diego’s father potentially accidentally seeing under his mask. Bernardo knew that Don Alejandro promised he wouldn’t unmask Zorro, but still. He and Diego didn’t like to take risks they didn’t have to.

As he worked, little droplets of water ran down Diego’s face, mixing in with the tear tracks so obvious within the dirt that still remained. Bernardo softly stroked Diego’s face with his fingers again, looking sadly upon his friend. Seeing Diego cry was such a rarity that the memories were vivid in his mind. The first time was when Diego wept at the bedside of a good friend when he’d died unexpectedly of yellow fever, and the second was at a wedding as Diego (and most of the crowd) had teared up during the vows. And now this was the third.

Once Diego’s forehead and eyes were clear, Bernardo immediately put the mask back on. Even though the door was locked, he knew Diego would be more comfortable with it on. Despite his fever, Diego still clearly had enough of his wits to remember that he was Zorro, not Don Diego de la Vega. Bernardo hoped the mask’s presence would give Diego the emotional comfort he clearly needed to reassure him that his identity had remained a secret.

Bernardo’s touch was gentle as he brought the cool cloth to Diego’s cheeks, but it seemed that all the touches to his mask and face had woken his friend anyway. Diego’s brow furrowed as his eyes fluttered open. Bernardo could see the fevered glaze in Diego’s brown eyes, and his heart hurt for his friend.

“Ber… bern’do?” Diego whimpered, and Bernardo was grateful that Diego wasn’t too far gone to not recognize him. Bernardo cupped Diego’s cheek gently, and Diego whispered, “wha…?”

Bernardo shushed him gently by putting his finger on Diego’s lips, and then he took Diego’s hand. When he’d first become Diego’s friend, Bernardo had taught him a few hand positions to use as a way to communicate with him. He’d taught Diego the same signs his family had used for the alphabet. It wasn’t something he needed to use often, as Diego was unusually good at communicating with him, but it was what he used to spell out his words as a last resort.

Carefully, Bernardo shifted Diego’s fingers into a fist, with his index and middle fingers raised, and he waited for Diego to recognize it. It took a moment for Diego to understand him through his fever, but eventually he murmured a breathless, “U…” Bernardo then crossed Diego’s fingers, and again waited. “R…” Bernardo guided Diego’s fingers into four successive letters, and when Diego didn’t respond except a confused noise, he did it again. “S-s-a-fe. Safe.”

Bernardo nodded, and cupped Diego’s cheek again. “‘ts good.”

Diego’s eyelids seem to hang heavy over his eyes, and Bernardo’s fingers softly brushed over his bandana. He then grabbed the glass of water he’d gotten earlier, and brought it to Diego’s lips, cradling Diego’s head to help ease him up. Diego wasn’t strong enough to hold the glass, but he managed a few sips of cool water.

“Tor… tornado.” Diego suddenly gasped, his exhausted eyes opening wider in fear, and Bernardo shushed him gently again, setting the glass aside.

Bernardo mimed himself sending Tornado back to their secret hideout, and then he softly stroked Diego’s forehead again. Diego nodded weakly, understanding that Tornado was safe too. Tornado was a smart horse, he’d keep himself out of trouble.

It seemed that the knowledge that he and Tornado were safe was enough for Diego to slip back into sleep, and Bernardo just stroked his cheek until he was sure Diego was deeply asleep again. Bernardo then brought the damp cloth to Diego’s cheeks, softly washing the dirt from Diego’s skin. His touch was featherlight, not wanting to wake Diego again when he clearly didn’t have the strength to stay awake.

After that, Bernardo worked in complete silence, just washing the dirt from Diego’s cheeks, and then Diego’s neck. His costume covered everything else except the wound, and that had already been taken care of. But just as Bernardo placed the dirty, damp cloth to the side, he noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Diego’s skin. He felt Diego’s forehead again, still feeling too warm as the fever burned within him. Hopefully it would burn itself out soon. Diego would need all of his strength to recover from this wound.

Diego hadn’t been at breakfast. He also hadn’t been home for lunch. Alejandro hoped that Diego was just in town, with his friends, and that he was alright. It really was not like Diego to go for so long without at least telling his father where he would be going. The only thing he could think of was that Diego had taken a spur of the moment trip, perhaps to the mission, as potentially someone in town wanted his presence. Still, Diego usually stopped by the hacienda to tell his father where he was going, but perhaps this was an emergency. Alejandro just hoped that Diego came home soon, he missed him.

It was evening by the time that Alejandro had been able to return to Zorro’s side without arousing suspicion. It took a little while for him to get the deaf-mute’s attention inside, but eventually Bernardo unlocked the door upon seeing him.

“You should get some rest, Bernardo.” Alejandro said, doing his best to mime, seeing the exhaustion on Bernardo’s face. “I’ll watch over him for the night.”

Bernardo seemed torn, looking at Zorro with forlorn eyes, obviously not wanting to part from the hero. Alejandro placed his hand on Bernardo’s shoulder, miming “I’ll fetch you if I need you.”

While the man clearly still did not want to go, he did nod. Alejandro wondered if the man had slept the previous night, but whatever had exhausted him was catching up to him. Bernardo took one last look at Zorro, but he went to the door. He knocked three times in a rhythm, and then again. Alejandro realized he was setting up a code for him to use, so he nodded, showing he understood. At least Alejandro could hear the knocks when Bernardo wanted back in.

Alejandro sat at Zorro’s bedside, watching the hero sleep with a worried expression. Zorro’s eyes darted around under his eyelids, his body restless and trembling. Alejandro pressed his hand to Zorro’s forehead, and frowned at the heat he found. All they could do now was hope that an infection had not taken hold and that what was causing this fever would not be as serious as that. An infection would mean Alejandro would need to fetch a doctor, and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to do that. Alejandro grabbed another cloth, it seemed Bernardo had restocked while he was gone, and he dipped it in the cool water.

Carefully, Alejandro brought the cool cloth to Zorro’s collarbone, deciding to forgo touching the man’s face since the slightest touch to his mask had woken him the last time. Tiny beads of sweat had formed across Zorro’s skin, and he softly wiped them away, hoping the cool water would help break the man’s fever. He brushed the cloth over Zorro’s chest, carefully avoiding the bandages around his waist.

As he brushed the cloth over Zorro’s arms, he saw something rather incredible. Zorro also had a scar on his left wrist that Alejandro could’ve sworn looked exactly like Diego’s. He lifted Zorro’s hand, taking great care to be as careful as possible, examining the scar curiously. It was the same length, same width, seemed just as old as Diego’s.

“You know, my son has a scar just like this.” Alejandro murmured. He wasn’t quite sure why he was talking to an unconscious man, but he hoped that his voice could bring the hero some kind of comfort as he slept. “Though, I’m sure you got yours a different way, being the master swordsman that you are. You probably got yours as you honed your incredible skill. My son fell out of a tree, heh.”

A soft moan filled the air, and Zorro’s eyes fluttered open. His brown eyes were glassy and dazed, and it took them a moment to focus on Alejandro.

“Father?” Zorro murmured, his voice weak and confused.

“Shh, it’s alright, Zorro. It’s Don Alejandro.”

Zorro just whimpered again, raising his hand a little. “Father.” Alejandro just grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

“Father… I’m sorry.” Zorro whispered, staring directly into Alejandro’s eyes. Alejandro frowned in confusion, pursing his lips, feeling a little discouraged that Zorro didn’t recognize him. The fever must be distorting Zorro’s mind into thinking Alejandro was his father. “I tried… tried so hard to make you proud.”

“Shh, Zorro, it’s alright.” Alejandro squeezed the hero’s hand. “You did everything you could. Even the bravest in battle get injured. I’m sure your father is very proud of you.”

“No…” Zorro slurred, his glazed eyes drifting softly to the wall. “My father isn’t proud of me.”

“Nonsense.” Alejandro instinctively started stroking Zorro’s hair over his bandana, as Diego always liked his father petting his hair when he wasn’t feeling well. He just hoped that Zorro took comfort from it too. “You’re a great hero. A savior of our people.”

“No… my father thinks I’m a coward.” Zorro muttered. “Always so disappointed in me. I can see it in his eyes.”

Unconsciously, Alejandro’s mind flashed to Diego, that first day when he’d returned from Spain and he hadn’t wanted to take up arms against Comandante Monasterio. How heartbroken Alejandro had been when Diego hadn’t wanted to draw his sword against the corrupt captain, or even draw his sword at all. But how could anyone think that Zorro was a coward? Zorro risked his life constantly for the people of Los Angeles. No one could dare call him a coward or a disappointment! He was tempted to ask who his father was, as he had a few words to exchange with the man. Zorro had risked his own life to save Alejandro’s, how could anyone ever say that he was a coward or a disappointment?

“Your father is wrong.” Alejandro squeezed Zorro’s hand again, his voice full of conviction, which brought Zorro’s fevered eyes back to Alejandro. “You are no coward. You are a hero to us all, Zorro, from the richest ranchero to the poorest peasant. Every day, you risk your life to save us from tyranny and injustice. If your father can’t see that, then even a blind man can see more than he can.”

Zorro’s eyes glistened as Alejandro spoke, and he saw a single tear slide down into the mask. Alejandro’s heart twisted in pain. His thumb came to Zorro’s face, softly brushing under Zorro’s eye. Zorro’s eyes fluttered closed, and Alejandro didn’t stop his ministrations until he was sure that the hero had fallen asleep once again.

Alejandro sighed softly as he gazed upon Zorro’s sleeping form. He hadn’t met the outlaw often, but he never would’ve guessed he’d had such a difficult family. He couldn’t imagine having a father who treated him so disrespectfully. Even he had gotten used to how bookish and unwilling to fight Diego had been since he got back from Spain. Truthfully, it had been hard, but Diego was his son. That meant that Alejandro loved him unconditionally, whether he was a master swordsman or a dandy. Diego was the best thing in his life, nothing could ever change that, even his son’s inability to handle a sword. But Zorro, he was a hero! He did more for the pueblo than anyone. How could anyone be disappointed in that?

Alejandro shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. As much as it hurt to hear that Zorro’s family didn’t appreciate him as they should, there was nothing he could do about that. But what he could do was do his best to help the man heal. He continued wiping the sweat away, brushing Zorro’s skin with clean cool water. He checked the bandage, and thankfully, he didn’t see anything that would indicate an infection. This fever was most likely caused by the stress of getting such an injury, Diego and his late wife had been prone to them as well, Diego especially once his mother passed.

A sudden knock on the door startled him, and he quickly composed himself, covering Zorro with Diego’s blanket and trying his best to hide his mask with a cool compress over his eyes. He then went to the door, trying his best to calm his nerves.

“Yes?” Alejandro answered, seeing one of his servants.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour, sir, but Sergeant Garcia is at the door and is urgently requesting to speak to you.”

Alejandro’s heart raced. What could Sergeant Garcia be wanting at this hour? Had something happened to Diego? Were they looking for Zorro? His stomach twisted with dread, but he kept a straight face, looking appropriately worried rather letting the terror and panic he was feeling show. He nodded simply, and then headed down to the entrance of the hacienda.

“Sergeant.” Alejandro said, fighting his every nerve to keep calm. “What brings you here this late into the night?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Don Alejandro, but on our last attempt to capture Zorro, it seems he was wounded.” The Sergeant said. “ One of the swords that did battle with him came back with blood on it. So we’re searching everywhere in the pueblo for him, as he’d need help, and since we couldn’t find him in any place he’d seek a doctor, we’ve started searching all the haciendas to see if we can find him.”

“We want to make sure he’s still alive.” Corporal Reyes added.

“Babosa!” Sergeant Garcia shouted, smacking Corporal Reyes upside the head. “You’re not supposed to say that!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said, Corporal, now be silent!” Garcia growled, and then turned and smiled bashfully at him.

Alejandro’s heart raced, his mind becoming a whirling dervish as he struggled to think of a reason he could deny them entry.

“Well, Sergeant, it is very late, perhaps you could come back tomorrow.” Alejandro said. “Most of the hacienda are already in bed, and I’d hate to wake them.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.” Sergeant Garcia said, sounding regretful. “We must check everywhere for Zorro, even this late at night. N-Not that I suspect you, Don Alejandro, but the Comandante would be very upset if I didn’t search everywhere, including your hacienda. But we’ll try to be quiet.”

Alejandro fought to keep his composure. He had to think, how could he keep them from discovering Zorro? There was no way to sneak him out without the soldiers noticing!

“Well, if you must, but I must ask you that you do not go into Diego’s room.” Alejandro said, hoping this excuse was enough to deter them. He didn’t have the time to think of another. “I’m afraid my son is sick, and cannot be disturbed. A-and I wouldn’t want you catching what he has.”

Sergeant Garcia looked surprised. “Diego is feeling unwell? Oh I’m very sorry to hear that. I was wondering why he hadn’t met me for lunch yesterday as we’d agreed. It’s not like him to miss our lunches together.”

Wait, Diego had made plans and then not kept them? Sergeant Garcia was right, that wasn’t like Diego. That wasn’t like his son at all. He almost asked when the last time the Sergeant had seen his son, but he stopped himself as he realized that he couldn’t. He was pretending Zorro was Diego. The Sergeant would find it very odd that Alejandro needed to look for Diego when supposedly he was lying sick in bed. He would send Diego’s manservant out tomorrow at dawn, and see if the deaf-mute could find his son. Bernardo knew Diego best since he returned from Spain, perhaps he’d be able to find Diego.

“Yes, he has a fever.” Alejandro said, trying to hide his worry for his missing son. “He’s asleep at the moment, and the noise of someone searching his room will most definitely wake him.”

“I do apologize, Don Alejandro, but I must search every room.” Sergeant Garcia said. “But I’ll check his room myself and just peek in there to make sure I don’t wake him.”

“I appreciate your understanding, Sergeant.” Alejandro said, a vice grip squeezing at his chest. The only thing he could hope for now was that the Sergeant wouldn’t recognize Zorro on sight.

With his heart pounding out of his chest, he followed Sergeant Garcia up the stairs while the other soldiers began to search the hacienda. He swallowed nervously as they went up the stairs, using every faculty he had to keep himself acting calm, even if he wasn’t inside. Quietly, Sergeant Garcia opened the door. The soldier peeked through the door, and Alejandro was so anxious about him finding Zorro that he could barely breathe.

Miraculously, Sergeant Garcia closed the door after just a moment. “I apologize for disturbing him, Don Alejandro. It’s obvious Zorro is not in there. Please let me know when he feels better, I would like to come by and see him.”

Don Alejandro smiled, and he actually meant it this time, knowing that Zorro was safe. “Of course, Sergeant. When he feels up to seeing visitors, I’ll send for you.”

Sergeant Garcia nodded happily, smiling broadly at him.

After that, Alejandro could act as he usually did around the soldiers, chatting with them as if nothing was wrong. He knew nothing else in the hacienda would give away that Zorro was here, so there was no chance of them finding Zorro here. Internally, he worried about Diego. What could’ve happened to his son to keep him away from home for so long? To miss plans that he’d made. Diego was not one to go back on his word. Alejandro had taught him the importance of integrity from a very young age. Where on earth could his son be?!

Alejandro wasn’t sure how long the soldiers spent looking for Zorro, but it was still a relief seeing them leave, Sergeant Garcia again apologizing for the disturbance as the rest complained to the Sergeant that they wanted to stop and go home so they could sleep. He bid them adios before returning to Diego’s room. There was nothing he could do about Diego since it was late in the night, and there was only moonlight and starlight to search for him. But the moment the sun rose, Alejandro would start looking for his son.

The moment Alejandro stepped through the door, he could tell something was wrong. Zorro was thrashing a little, having kicked off the blanket which was now tangled between his feet, with the cool compress laying on the pillow beside him. He was murmuring nonsense in his sleep, but it was clear that he was in distress. After locking the door, Alejandro rushed to Zorro’s side.

“Shh, Zorro, you’re alright, you’re alright.” Alejandro said, trying his best to sound soothing.

“No, no please,” Zorro whimpered, still lost in the throes of a nightmare.

“Zorro, wake up, you’re having a nightmare, you’re safe here.” Alejandro gently cupped Zorro’s cheek, hoping the touch to his face would wake him.

But Zorro kept thrashing, his head moving from side to side, his face twisted in fright. Alejandro tried again to wake him before suddenly going still, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Zorro’s thrashing had dislodged his mask, revealing part of his face. Even though he was asleep, Alejandro still recognized the face of his son.

Diego… Diego was Zorro??? His bookish, pacifist son was the hero of the pueblo who fought with the strength of ten men? Impossible. Yet here he was, staring at his son as he thrashed from a nightmare, clearly Zorro under the mask. Surely, it must be a dream, but he was wide awake, and this was no dream.

Alejandro then acted on impulse, his paternal instincts screaming at him to comfort his son. He took Zorro- Diego by the shoulders and brought him up to Alejandro’s chest, his arms wrapping around his suffering son’s body in a fierce hug, holding Diego close to him. He slowly began to rock back and forth, just as he’d done when Diego was a small child.

“Shh, Diego, it’s alright, Father’s here, you’re safe, shh, you’re safe.” He whispered, keeping one hand on Diego’s head, keeping him pressed against his chest. He knew his son, he knew what would comfort him. It had always worked when he was a child, he saw no reason it wouldn’t work now that he was an adult.

Just as he thought it would, Diego’s murmurs of fright softened as his father held him, whispering comforts as he slowly rocked back and forth. When Diego’s mother was alive, Alejandro would often find a sleeping Diego in his late wife’s arms as she sat in her rocking chair. He knew that the feeling comforted Diego, especially after his mother passed. So he just kept rocking back and forth, holding his son tightly until Diego’s cries quieted down. But even though the nightmare seemed to have passed, Alejandro didn’t let go of his son.

Carefully shifting Diego’s weight so he could hold his son with one hand, he gently pulled off the mask of Zorro. He figured, since he’d already found out it was Diego, he wasn’t breaking his word to not unmask Zorro. Gently dropping the mask and bandana onto the bed, he tilted Diego’s head up a little. Alejandro had burned his son’s face into his memory when he’d come home from Spain, having missed him so much. And here he was, in his arms, sleeping peacefully now.

How could he have missed this? How could he have not seen that his own son was Zorro? Obviously, Diego had gone to great lengths to hide his identity from his father, as well as the rest of the pueblo, but Diego was his son. Alejandro should’ve been able to tell. Now that he knew, the clues were rather apparent. No one had ever seen Diego and Zorro in the same room at the same time, Diego was never around whenever Zorro appeared, the fact that Diego was constantly being accused of being Zorro (even though previously it seemed so evident that he wasn’t), Diego’s sudden evasiveness over his feelings, how Zorro sounded so much like Diego especially when he was in pain, the scar on his wrist… it all made sense now.

“I fail to see what we can do.”

“We can stand up to him, fight him!”

“Calm yourself, Father. The use of force should be our last resort.”

“I hardly expected such discretion from a son of mine!”

Diego hadn’t been a coward in the face of Comandante Monastario, he just made Alejandro believe that. He’d seen the hurt in Diego’s eyes when Alejandro had been so vocal about his obvious disappointment when Diego had refused to take a stand against Monastario, but he’d been more concerned about his son becoming a coward after he left for college rather than comforting his son. It must have been very painful for Diego to let him think such low things of his own son.

“I’m sorry. I tried… tried so hard to make you proud… My father isn’t proud of me. My father thinks I’m a coward. Always so disappointed in me. I can see it in his eyes.”

The only time words had caused Alejandro to feel such pain was when the doctor had told him that his wonderful wife was dying. Never before had Alejandro felt such a sickening regret in his chest that consumed him so entirely. Diego, his incredible, precious son thought that he was a disappointment. That Alejandro considered him a coward. Admittedly, Alejandro hadn’t been very good at telling his son how proud he was of him when Diego constantly ran from a fight, not understanding how his amazing son could’ve become such a coward in a few short years. But… he understood now. Diego never ran from a fight, he just became Zorro to fight that fight.

“It is strange. So strange. It is almost as if I had known you. You seem so much like someone I know. I'm a foolish old man with foolish dreams. So often have I dreamed that my son came back from Spain and he would be like you. Now that you're so close, it is so much like my dreams. I feel almost that I could pull aside the mask, and there would be the face of my son, Diego. I would not pull away the mask. I would not have the courage. An old man must cling to his dreams as desperately as he clings to life.”

Alejandro startled at seeing tears run down Diego’s cheeks as he slept, but he soon realized that the tears were coming from him, dripping down from his face onto Diego. He tucked Diego’s head into his shoulder again, kissing his hair.

“Oh, mijo. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He held his son all night, unwilling to let him go. His only consolation was at least now he didn’t have to worry about where Diego was. His precious son was right here in his arms, where he should be when he was… wounded. It was the smallest of silver linings that he hadn’t known that this was his son when struggling to treat his wound. He felt nauseous just thinking of his son being so grievously injured, especially when all his son was trying to do was help people.

Dawn’s early light surprised him, as he was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed that several hours had passed. Diego was still overly warm in his arms, but he seemed to be resting quietly.

A set of three knocks in a row startled him enough that he nearly dropped his son. There was a pause, and another three knocks. Alejandro’s shoulders slumped when he realized it was just Bernardo. He leaned forward, cradling his son’s head with the utmost reverence as he laid Diego back down. He got up to let Bernardo in before he hastily remembered to put on Diego’s Zorro disguise. He wasn’t sure if Bernardo knew, but if he didn’t, he wouldn’t reveal his son’s secret.

Alejandro then let Bernardo in, and the man immediately rushed to Diego’s side. Bernardo’s hand came to Diego’s forehead, his cheeks, checking on his fever. Diego didn’t stir at the touch, and now Alejandro knew what that meant. Even as Zorro, Diego recognized the touch of his friend. He wondered if that meant that Bernardo knew too.

Diego murmured nonsense in his sleep again, and Alejandro sat beside his son, stroking his hair over the bandana. “Shh, Diego, it’s alright, you’re alright. Sleep my son, shh.”

His son calmed, soothed by Alejandro’s voice. Alejandro just stared at his son for a moment, taking in his peaceful expression before he noticed that Bernardo was looking at him in panic. At first it confused him, before he realized that somehow Bernardo must have understood that he knew now that Diego was Zorro.

“You knew?” Alejandro said, his voice incredulous before it turned to anger. “You knew this whole time?”

Bernardo struggled again with nonsensical movements before he just nodded.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” Alejandro demanded. “I’m his father!”

Bernardo then pointed to Diego and pressed a finger to his lips, showing that Diego had asked him not to tell.

Alejandro groaned and ran a hand over his face. Then he stopped.

“Wait, you can hear?” Alejandro exclaimed. “You could hear the whole time too?”

Bernardo nodded again.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Alejandro asked. “Why deceive everyone in such a way?”

Bernardo pointed at Diego again, and then he covered his ear. He then mimed walking again, and used his hands to mime talking. Then he placed his hand behind his ear to mime the word listen. Then he placed his hand over his mouth as if he was whispering and pointed to Diego.

“Diego wanted you to pretend to be deaf so you could overhear others’ conversations and what, report back to him?”

Bernardo gave him a hand wave to indicate perhaps a maybe, and pointed at himself. “You wanted to do that?” Bernardo nodded again. “Why?”

He placed his hand behind his ear again, and then mimed running and then whispering to Diego again. He made a ‘Z’ sign, and then pointed to Diego, and then mimed a shield.

“So… you could overhear things that would indicate that Zorro needed protection?” Alejandro asked.

Bernardo nodded happily.

Alejandro sighed. “At least Diego trusted someone to help him.”

Bernardo frowned and patted his shoulder in what seemed to be a gesture of comfort.

“So Diego has been Zorro this entire time.” Alejandro sighed again before a terrible thought entered his mind. “Even… even when we drew swords against each other.”

He remembered dueling Zorro when he and the other landowners tried to rush the cuartel to free the unjustly imprisoned Torres’ women. He’d noticed back then that Zorro had seemed very reluctant to draw his sword against them, a sadness in his eyes that he hadn’t understood in his anger. And all the time, it was Diego. Diego forced to fight his own father. Even if Alejandro’s intentions were good, his actions had still led him to fight his own son. Poor Diego. Diego had never hidden how much he loved his father, even if he hadn’t told Alejandro his secret.

Bernardo nodded at his statement, pointed at Diego, and then mimed an obvious frown, telling him that Diego had been very upset at having to do that. He could tell the man wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, just trying to tell him that Diego had been just as upset as he was right now, that Diego hadn’t wanted to fight him, but that brought him no comfort. He couldn’t imagine the strength of will Diego must have had to make himself fight his own father on his quest for justice. He doubted he’d have been strong enough to be able to draw his sword against his son.

“We need to take off his mask.” Alejandro said, reaching over. Bernardo grabbed his wrist, shaking his head and waving his finger in a no gesture.

“I’m not doing this because I know now.” Alejandro said. “Last night, while you and most of the hacienda were asleep, the soldiers came here.” Bernardo’s eyes went wide with fear. “Don’t worry, I was able to convince them that Diego was ill to hide Zorro’s presence, but now people expect Diego to be ill. And… I suppose he really is. But if we cover the bandages with a blanket, and hide his mask, then no one will be able to tell that Diego is Zorro. We could let him rest without worry of someone discovering him.”

Alejandro could tell that Bernardo was still uncertain about his plan, but after a moment, he did let go. Alejandro tenderly reached over and slipped Diego’s bandana off, and then very carefully, his mask. Without his Zorro disguise, Diego looked so young, like the boy who he’d sent to university those few years ago. Alejandro softly stroked his son’s cheek, unable to tear his eyes away for a moment. His poor son. Having to shoulder all of that responsibility, all of that pressure to protect the pueblo and distribute justice all alone, unable to confide in his own father. He didn’t know how Diego did it.

They lapsed into silence for a while as Diego slept beside them. Bernardo placed another cool cloth on Diego’s forehead, and Alejandro just sat, brushing another cool cloth over his son’s skin. At least, now that he knew it was Diego, he knew how to help his son. Whenever Diego had gotten stress fevers before, when he was a child, Alejandro just had to give him water, and keep him cool. When they checked his wound as they changed his bandages, the wound showed no sign of infection. Alejandro was nauseous at the sight of seeing his son’s body torn up and stitched together, but he had to be strong for his son. If Diego could fight under his mask as Zorro, then Alejandro could take care of him as his father. When Diego was born, he’d promised to always take care of his son, and he wouldn’t let him down now.

Dusk was settling gently in the west when Diego stirred again. To Alejandro’s immense relief, and when Diego opened his eyes the glaze of fever was gone. He smiled softly at his son.

Soon, fear entered his son’s eyes, and his hand came to his face, obviously searching for his mask. “Father, what… why did you…”

“Last night, you were thrashing in your sleep.” Alejandro explained, his voice saddened by his son’s fear and confusion. As much as he was grateful that he knew, he would’ve wanted his son to tell him of his own free will, and he knew Diego would’ve wanted that too. “It disturbed your mask, and well… I could recognize your face from the other side of the pueblo.”

Diego just stared at him, with his fingers still under his eye. Bernardo then took his hand, and Diego startled a little, having been so distracted with Alejandro’s presence that he didn’t notice his friend. Bernardo smiled a little, but Diego didn’t seem to react to it.

“I am sorry, my son.” Alejandro said, and he knew his son could sense his sincerity. “I know this isn’t how you wanted this to happen.”

Diego slowly brought his hand back down, and he suddenly couldn’t meet his father’s eye. “Are you upset with me? For not telling you?”

“Of course not, mijo.” Alejandro stroked Diego’s hair as he did when he was a child. “I could never be upset with you because you decided to keep a secret. Even one so big as this.”

Diego met his eyes once more. It hurt Alejandro’s heart to see shame in his son’s brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, Father.” Diego murmured. “I didn’t mean to lie to you for so long. I hated doing it.”

“It’s alright, Diego.” Alejandro smiled down at his son. “I can understand why you did it.”

Diego tried for a smile but it didn’t quite make his eyes. He shifted a little, seemingly uncomfortable, and then he winced, frowning in confusion. “What…?”

“Diego, what’s the last thing you remember?” Alejandro asked quietly, as it seemed like Diego didn’t know what had happened to him.

His son paused, his brow furrowing a little. “Riding Tornado. We’d just gotten away from Ramon, the last man I fought. He was trying to smuggle weapons into the pueblo. I… I remember my side hurting, and I didn’t know why. After that, it’s a bit of a blur.”

Alejandro hummed slightly, nodding. That lined up with the timeline that Alejandro had been able to figure out from what little information he had.

“What happened?” Diego asked. “How did you find me?”

“Your horse, actually, he’s incredibly intelligent.” Alejandro explained. “You must have fallen out of the saddle as you rode, and your Tornado went looking for help. He found me and brought me back to you. I found you lying in the dirt with your side sliced open. I brought you home, and since Diego de la Vega wasn’t in his room, I thought we could use it as a place to keep Zorro safe. Bernardo and I took care of you from there.”

“Oh.” Diego said softly, his hand coming to his right side. “I wondered what hurt so much.”

“I can send someone into town for laudanum tomorrow.” Alejandro said. “I couldn’t risk it when you were Zorro, but since the soldiers now think that Diego de la Vega isn’t feeling well, we can ask for it without repercussions.”

“The soldiers?” Diego asked, becoming afraid. “Why were the soldiers here? Is everything alright?”

Alejandro explained how the soldiers had come looking for him and left easily enough, thinking that a sleeping Zorro was a sleeping Diego. That calmed Diego visibly.

“Thank goodness.” Diego murmured. “I never wanted to put anyone in danger.”

Alejandro cupped Diego’s jawline, brushing his thumb over his cheek.

“Bernardo,” Alejandro muttered softly, and the man turned to him. “Can you give me and my son a moment alone?”

Bernardo looked to Diego, who nodded. Alejandro wasn’t sure of what had happened to make Bernardo so loyal to Diego, but he was glad his son had someone who would always stand by his side. It was clear Bernardo didn’t want to go, but he still listened to Diego, and he stood. He mimed getting Diego some water and food, and Diego smiled gratefully.

“That would be nice, Bernardo, thank you.”

Bernardo smiled at his son, and then he slipped out of the room. Now that he and Diego were alone, Alejandro sighed heavily.

“Why didn’t you tell me, mijo?” Alejandro murmured, asking the question that had been burning within him since he found out. “You know I wouldn’t have told anyone. You didn’t have to make me think that you had changed so much since I sent you to Spain.”

“Because I knew being Zorro would put you in danger, and I couldn’t risk that.” Diego whispered, his voice tinted with shyness and shame. “I knew I had to become someone I’m not to fight Comandante Monastario, I had to become someone he would never suspect. A scholar who couldn’t wield a sword couldn’t possibly be Zorro, and it worked. I knew if we took open action as you wanted to do, your life would be in danger. And I had to protect you.”

“You’re my son, Diego, you’re not responsible for protecting me. “ Alejandro said. “I’m responsible for protecting you. I swore to your mother that I would protect you until the end of my days and I will keep that promise. Even if it means dying for you.”

“I couldn’t risk that.” Diego said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Seeing you get shot was one of the worst days of my life. I’ve never been so scared, not even when I’m fighting the whole of the cuartel at once. I couldn’t knowingly put you in danger, and being Zorro is nothing but danger. I could choose to risk my own life, but I could never ask you to risk yours. I had to protect you, Father, even if it meant lying to you about who I was. I’d rather be a disappointment in your eyes than the reason you were killed.”

“Oh, mijo.” Alejandro sighed, stroking his son’s cheek. “You could never be a disappointment to me. You’re my son, I will always be proud of you. Yes, it was difficult to understand why you wouldn’t fight alongside me, why you suddenly had become so interested in books and music when you hadn’t been before. But that never meant that I thought of you as a disappointment.”

“Father-”

“Diego.” Alejandro said firmly. “Whether you’re a scholar and a diplomat or a dueler and an outlaw, I will always be proud of you. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that. You’re my son, I love you more than life itself.”

Diego smiled again, and this time, he could see it in Diego’s eyes. “I love you too, Father.”

Alejandro smiled in return. This was probably the most honest talk they’d had since Diego returned from Spain, and he was glad that his son could finally be honest with him.

Diego huffed quietly, slightly smirking. “I will say, I’m not looking forward to the worry and fretting you’re going to do whenever I go out at night.”

“I see no reason to do that.” Alejandro laughed, seeing Diego’s attempt at humor for what it was, but going with it anyways. Diego looked surprised at his answer. “You’ve bested me in a duel, my son. Not to mention you constantly fight the curatel and always escape unharmed. You… do escape unharmed every time, right?”

“Yes, Father.” Diego nodded, soothing Alejandro’s worry. “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten seriously hurt being Zorro. Usually, I’m very good at avoiding it.”

“Then I have no need to be worried.” Alejandro said. “I trust in your skills.”

Diego smiled. “Thank you, Father. I’m glad Zorro is skilled enough to earn your trust.”

“I did wonder what happened to your skills when you came back.” Alejandro mused. “When you left, I was sure you’d become the best swordsman in California before age thirty. But I suppose I wasn’t wrong, I just thought it would be under the name de la Vega.”

Diego chuckled. “So did I. I wish I could’ve shown you the medals and trophies I won back in Spain for fencing. You would’ve been so proud.”

“Medals and trophies?” Alejandro asked, confused. This was the first time Diego had ever mentioned anything of the sort since he came back.

“Yes.” Diego nodded. “I won several. I was one of the best swordsmen at university.”

“Where are they? Did you hide them?”

“Yes… at the bottom of the ocean.” Diego said wistfully. “I was warned our bags would be searched when we arrived in Los Angeles, so in order to keep up the illusion that I was completely inept with a sword, I had Bernardo throw them out the port window.”

“That’s a shame.” Alejandro said. “I would’ve liked to have seen them. And shown them off.”

“I can always go swimming the next time I go to the coast.” Diego smirked, and they both laughed together. A somewhat heavy tension between them dissolved softly into nonexistence.

Bernardo soon returned with some soup and a glass of water for Diego. His son went to sit up, before he immediately fell back into the pillows, whimpering in pain and clutching his right side.

“Easy, son.” Alejandro soothed, helping Diego adjust, sliding behind him so he could keep Diego up, maneuvering him into a sitting position. “You’re not ready for that yet. Just let us help you.”

“I don’t seem to have a choice in that.” Diego muttered, and Alejandro could hear the slight bitterness in Diego’s voice. His son had always been independent, and Alejandro knew how difficult it was for him to accept help sometimes.

“The more you rest, the faster you’ll heal.” Alejandro murmured. “I can certainly attest to that.”

Diego huffed quietly, still obviously upset at his situation, but he didn’t protest further. Bernardo could also clearly sense Diego’s desire to not be dependent on them, as he fed Diego as quickly as he could without making him sick so Diego wouldn’t have to deal with being so weak for longer than he had to. Alejandro could tell his son’s strength was waning as he finished, and when Diego was finished, he gently moved so Diego was resting against the pillows again. It took a moment for Diego to adjust and get comfortable again, but his eyes were half-lidded by the time he was done, clearly exhausted.

“Sleep, my son.” Alejandro whispered. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

It was barely a few minutes between Diego nodding softly and Diego’s breathing evening out as he slipped back into sleep. Alejandro stayed with him the entire night, promising himself that he’d watch over Diego until his son was fully healed and riding for justice again.

[yuuyuuuyuuuu]

I WIN!!!!

transmasc player guys

[mellifloss]

the cross x mark scout story was so cute........... I feel like I've gained +150 HP! TT w TT 💖✨

[gnomewithalaptop]

Uuuugh vehement antishippers are so annoyinggg 😑

[spiritedstars]

The funniest thing about SMTB to me now is that all the earlier chapters felt so long to write and they are all between 12-16 pages but then all the later chapters are clocking in at 20-29 and I'm forcing myself (and these morons) to shut up and try to break the chapters into shorter ones instead. And yet!

[torchickentacos]

I've had to look up 'Soma' a few times in the last little bit, and my favorite part is watching google haphazardly decide whether it thinks I mean the horror game or the lingerie store. it seems to be leaning pretty 50/50 as to which search result it shoves at me first

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

okay I started reading Dungeon Meshi the other day only because I liked those character sheets. it's good and fun so far, I'm on chapter 37 and very invested. I thought it was gonna be just slice of life (because it was for like the first 20 chapters or so), but now there is a plot, and I like it both ways. it has kind of a slow start even for the slice of life stuff: not like it's bad, I was just unsure whether it was going to move past "enjoyable" for the first couple chapters. but then it went from enjoyable to deeply charming and now it's gone to exciting while still pretty darn charming. without knowing the author, I can confidently say she's a giant nerd. this is a work that would be impossible to create unless you were a person who is great at drawing with intense special interests in classic fantasy RPGs and biology/ecology. which sounds very specific but thank goodness because that's what makes it good. it feels like it comes from a place of love.

[timothyslucy]

chenford birthday episode save me.