14A/N: Hi all!
This is my first Walt Disney Zorro story. I want to dedicate this work of fiction to Guy Williams, who played the masked hero. Not only would it have been his 97th birthday on the 14th of January, but he also brought to life a fascinating and unforgettable character. For many reasons, this show holds an incredibly special place in my heart.
Likewise, I dedicate this piece to all the fanfiction authors that have inspired me over the years. I have scoured the web looking for Walt Disney Zorro fanfictions, and I have greatly enjoyed reading their stories. All are brilliant! IcyWaters, OhioOwl, FirstBookScape AKA Susan Kite, NotesFromSarah, TheRealRogue, TFALokiwriter, IcyFire, miXiZ, Scroll Keeper, Sky Notes, Wherewolfe1, Little Bones, Halfpenny, Lionna Mouri, Moonlightseraph, RememberFics for posting stories by Karla Gregory, Melitta, Ida Mirei, ThePenWieldingRose and JuliaBC. I do apologize if I missed anyone. Thank you to any author who has kept WD Zorro alive in our hearts and minds. Muchas Gracias!
Thank you to my beta, who not only took Spanish in college, but she helped me put this together. HC247 is her fanfiction penname, and her writing is brilliant!
DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nada. Nothing! If I did, there would have been many more completed seasons of this wonderful show.
Dialogue was taken directly from season 1, episode 7 titled, "Monastario Sets a Trap."
-….-…..
He was aware of the pain.
Searing, burning, pulsing agony that tore through his shoulder.
But he was a De La Vega, and De La Vega men never showed discomfort.
Never made an outcry.
He did permit a hiss of air through his teeth.
All he was aware of was his heartbeat; it raced as fast as the black horse that thundered beneath him.
No, that thundered beneath them.
Don Alejandro knew the most intense pain would come later but for now, he clung to his lifeline.
He clung to his son.
No, he clung to Zorro.
Don Alejandro found he had to remind himself of that very fact again and again.
Zorro was daring, impetuous and a man of action.
His son was not.
It did not make sense to the old Hacendado.
Why was it not his son, his only begotten son that was helping him, saving his life?
Why was it not Diego?
Those thoughts raced, jostled his mind along with the horse's hooves pounding the ground. Crickets sang their sweet serenade through the night as they rode, the older man taking in gasps of air as if to join them in song.
He felt the slackening of his grip as the black horse ran.
"Hold on."
A voice, so close yet carried away from him by the wind somehow made itself heard through the cacophony of noise.
The voice of his son.
"Not much further."
There it was again.
Yet when the great horse stopped, and Zorro had eased Alejandro onto a rock, the black mask was firmly in place. Alejandro watched through half-lidded eyes as Zorro spoke to his faithful horse, the sounds of the stallion's hoofbeats quickly fading into the night followed by the yells of the soldiers.
The crickets quieted whilst Alejandro breathed, slumping in relief. He whispered his thanks whilst gazing into the hazel eyes behind the mask.
"Strange…"
You have the same eyes as my son, so close you are in the dark.
"So strange…"
The thought dissipated yet the Hacendado clung to hope.
"It is as if I have known you..you seem so much like someone I know."
He sighed the last words, gazing thoughtfully up at the young man that held him ever so gently.
"I am a foolish old man with foolish dreams."
He never would have thought so until that very evening when his own son had refused to stand with him against Monastario.
"So often I have dreamed that my son would come back from Spain and he would be like you…"
That was the truth, and Don Alejandro swallowed hard having come to the realization of it. He could not stop the words that came next.
"Now that you are so close, it is so much like my dreams. I almost feel that I could pull aside the mask and there would be the face of my son...my Diego."
Of course, he knew Zorro would stop him from removing the simple piece of cloth. At this, the older man weakly chuckled.
"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."
He exhaled the last words before he felt the arms of unconsciousness pull him into an embrace. He prayed they would not be the final words he spoke.
And yet, as he felt his dark eyes fall shut, along with the tendrils of blissful sleep close in around him, he swore he heard the whisper of his son's voice.
"You will have many years left, my father, to live and dream."
-….End of, "To Live and Dream."-….-