DIEGO'S SURE THING
Disclaimer: I don't own him. Victoria does. ;)
Rating: G
Summary: Post-ep for "The Sure Thing." Diego realizes he's the biggest gambler of all, but is he willing to take the biggest gamble of all?
***
His head exploded. Or, at least, it felt like it did.
He had tried to deny the warning signs. When his throat felt dry and scratchy, he told himself that it was from all the instructions he was giving as he helped his father prepare for tonight's party. A flushed feeling was explained away by the running to and fro he was doing for the same party. The weak feeling, of course, was to be expected after such a tiring week. However, the disease ravaging its way through his body refused to be denied anymore.
"You have a cold, Diego." He turned to look in the direction of the voice. Despite how badly he was feeling, he smiled. Victoria's presence always cheered him, even when he was ill.
Watching her walk towards him, across the de la Vega garden, he remembered what she had been like as a little girl. Tonight, the moonlight was accenting the beauty and grace, but he could easily recall a small imp racing through the pueblo. She was more likely to be wearing a tore skirt than not, and her face had often been covered with dirt and the remains of flan.
Diego's grin broadened as he thought of the little sprite's laughter when she dropped a bucket of mud on the visiting governor. Fortunately, for her and her family, the man had had a sense of humor. His booming laugh had joined the little girl's, managing to drown out the sound of poor Señora Escalante's horrified sobs.
"It is no laughing matter, Don Diego. You are sick and should be in bed resting," she chided.
"I'm fine--" Another sneeze kept him from talking anymore. Victoria shook her head, exasperated, and took him by his arm. Meekly, he followed her gentle pull.
"Victoria, Diego, what's wrong?" Don Alejandro asked as he caught them walking through the kitchen. His eyes scrutinized his son's face and then worry clouded his own. Diego realized he must look worse than he thought.
"Don Diego is sick, Don Alejandro," Victoria stopped walking briefly. "He needs to be in bed resting."
"Again?" Don Alejandro's voice was more anxious than condemning. His wife had died after many bouts of fever, and Diego could see from the look on his father's face where Alejandro's thoughts were after hearing his was ill again. There were moments, like now, that he hated the deception that was clinging to his life. He would have never used the excuse of a cold to miss the race between Zorro and Señor Jerrera, if he had even suspected the possibility the he could actually catch one.
"He never gave himself enough time to recover. Out of bed the next day, running about the pueblo. I tried to warn him." He grinned weakly. She had fussed about him being up and about, but he had merely laughed. After all, she didn't know that he hadn't really been sick. Little did he know. . .
Don Alejandro, looking into his son's eyes, put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. I should have never asked you to do so much."
Diego opened his mouth to reassure his father, but Victoria's voice and gentle jerk stopped him. "Oh, no, Don Alejandro. You will not take any of the blame. It was him who should have known better."
In his room, Diego's jaw dropped slightly when Victoria quickly opened one of his drawers. Spotting what she wanted, she reached in and plucked out what appeared to be a nightshirt. Turning, she tossed it on the bed. "Get into that while I go fix you some soup," she ordered, stomping out of the room.
Diego was in his nightshirt and under the covers before he even thought about it. He looked down at himself and began to laugh softly. Having never been one to follow orders easily, he found himself often jumping at every one of Victoria's commands. He skirted around that thought, uneasy about dealing with what it might reveal to him. It was an issue he had avoided thinking about since his return home, since his time on the ship bringing him back to California.
A half hour later, Victoria's eagle eyes watched his every bite. She tried to cajole him into eating more, but he simply could not. Without comment, she took the tray from his lap and set it down beside his bed. She returned, to his surprise, to the seat she had earlier dragged over to his bedside. Hearing the music and the laughter filtering in his room, he told her to return to the party celebrating Zorro's win and Marcus's freedom from debt.
Victoria shook her head, smiling at him. "I'd rather stay here. I'm so often surrounded by people. I enjoy a good party, but . . . I enjoy time to myself or with close friends more."
Diego's heart warmed at hearing her call him a close friend. After Zefíra broke his heart, left him waiting at the altar, he never expected to be close to another woman again. However, he had found himself thinking about the little imp--starting to become a woman when he had left--he would soon see again when he finally arrived back in Los Angeles. She had consumed so much more of his thoughts than he could believe, to the point that he had asked about her almost immediately upon seeing his father.
Then, he had seen her at the tavern. A woman now, but still dumping containers. This time she had been pouring lemonade on a deserving soldier's head, and looking so incredibly beautiful . . . Don't go there! his bruised heart ordered. It was getting harder every day to obey.
"I'm so sorry you missed the race. Zorro was incredible. I guess it was better you than anyone else though." Diego watched as she laughed softly, shaking her head. She had the most enchanting laugh. "I think you are the only one who did not make some kind of bet on Señor Jerrera and Marcus's race."
"The poor farmers--" he began, his throat burning at the effort.
Victoria finished for him. "Made some kind of bet with their fellow farmers. A day of plowing or maybe repairing a leaking roof was their 'money'." Diego's eyebrows shot up, because he had assumed that the poor had wisely refrained from such games.
"You were very smart, Diego, not to make a bet. You said gambling was for the foolish, and you were right." Her eyes suddenly were very sad, and her shoulders slumped forward. "We almost got a good man killed because of our foolishness."
"Zorro?" he managed to croak before coughing.
Handing him a glass of water, Victoria nodded. "The alcalde almost captured him because he raced Señor Jerrera to get back our money."
"Jerrera had won it unfairly," Diego tried to comfort her. It was the reason he had agreed to the race.
Victoria sighed sadly. "If we hadn't accepted his stupid bet, if we hadn't arrogantly declared Marcus and Zeus 'a sure thing,' that man wouldn't have fed that poor horse something to make him sick. Zorro wouldn't have had to race him, because we would have won by just not placing the bet."
Diego was silent for a heartbeat. Someone outside his door laughed at an unheard joke. "Marcus paid off all his debts."
Victoria's smile returned a little. She looked over at his wall, as if she could see the celebration taking place on the other side. "At least something good came out of all of this."
She stood, obviously agitated. She walked over to his window and pulled the curtain open a crack. Moonlight filtered through, splashing across her face. "He risked his life too much as it is just protecting us from the alcalde's tyranny. He doesn't--he shouldn't have to risk his life to protect us from our own stupidity."
Diego wished he could explain to her how much he enjoyed the race, the challenge. He had known that the alcalde would try something after the race was over, after he could reclaim the 4,000 pesos of tax money that he had lost on a bet. He had known that Ramón's promise of immunity would not last one second longer than the alcalde needed it.
However, he couldn't tell her without sharing his greatest secret. He could find no words of comfort. She was right, even though he had been the one to make the decision to accept Jerrera's challenge. He had been unable to let even that injustice go unanswered. If Jerrera had won the money fairly, Zorro would have ignored the offer to race Toronado against Jerrera's fine stallion.
"Gambling is for the foolish." She sighed again.
Diego thought of his earlier words about gambling. "I am not a gambling man," he had told Jerrera when the caballero had tried to jeer the de la Vega heir into entering a race for money.
If he wasn't feeling so poorly, he would laugh at his earlier words. Not a gambling man? Him? He was the biggest gambler in Alta California! He just didn't bother with small games. High stakes were the only ones he knew.
Instead of money, he risked his life, his honor, and his family's honor. Every time he rode as Zorro, he took the chance of failing. When he tied on the mask, he bet with himself, with fate, with God, that he would come back to his cave with his identity secret and his body whole.
Victoria turned away from the window. He was happy to see the sparkle back in her eyes. She apparently made peace with her earlier decision. Maybe she realized that the only two things that can be taken from the past are memories and lessons. There was no going back in life.
"You must be tired. Go to sleep, mi amigo. I'll sit here beside you." Her warm voice sent shivers up his spine.
She was right. Diego felt Morpheus's arms reaching for him, and he stopped resisting his gentle pull. As sleep tried to claim him, his eyes remained on the beautiful señorita beside him. He thought of gambles and of sure things. His last thought before sleep's victory was that, if he wasn't careful, he was going to fall in love with this woman. He would bet on it, because it was a sure thing.
THE END