A/N: Hi there! This is my first Zorro fanfiction, and it will be based on the Disney series, with some moments and lines used from the Tyrone Power movie (possibly from other versions, we'll see). I've read the book and found it very interesting that Disney never brought in Zorro's intended love interest, Lolita (I guess he just wanted Diego to have some fun, or there were issues that wouldn't allow for a third season with Lolita...? Anywho...). I've brought her in here and I hope to make my own unique twist on this character (all of which are owned by Johnson McCulley/Walt Disney). I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it :) Please don't forget to leave a review! Thanks!

Walt Disney's ZORRO - The Fox and the Flower

Chapter One: Zorro Meets the Señorita (Part 1)

"Pull the shutter down, won't you?! The dust is coming into the coach!"

The six cramped bodies were huddled close together within the ever-moving stagecoach, three people sitting on either side of the vehicle. In all, there were five women, and only one male, the head of the family. The middle-aged man sighed as his daughters cast each other irritable glares, sensing that their boiling points were close to being reached. "Niñas, please, behave yourselves. We should be reaching Los Angeles within a matter of moments now." He stroked his grey-streaked moustache before checking his cufflinks for the hundredth time during their voyage.

"Is it my fault that Lolita insists on peeking through the window and letting in more of that insufferable heat?" his eldest asked, fanning herself continuously in contempt at the thought of their new home.

The accused girl, Lolita rolled her eyes but bit her tongue. For her father's and stepmother's sake, she picked her battles, and she knew there would be plenty of them when they reached their new hacienda. Propping her elbow onto the ledge of the coach window, much to her stepmother's dismay, the raven-haired girl pressed her cheek to her palm and held back a sigh.

"Just a little more," she encouraged herself. "Just a little more and we'll all be free of this wretched coach." Moving her rich brown eyes towards the covered window, she curled her fingers as so not to be tempted to open it, and imagined seeing the glorious plains upon which her father's cattle would graze, and she would ride her mare all day. Lolita Rosalinda Pulido del Castillo had lived in Spain all her life until now – her father, Carlos Pulido del Castillo, worked tirelessly in the court for His Royal Majesty, and had come into retirement. The King, most grateful for his service as a financial advisor and very generous to Carlos, granted him a large plot of land in the distant colony of California, as well as a hundred cattle, fifty horses, several sheep and goats, and their own hacienda to call home. This was added to the rather large pension he had already received and the other generous gifts the King showered them with. With all these blessings, it was with high hopes and a happy heart that Carlos informed his family that they were moving.

Lolita was excited upon hearing the news from her father – she had always wanted to explore new places, and California was said to be quite an adventurous spot. She imagined Indians roaming free, an assortment of wild animals to face, and rowdy bandits to fight off…a fantasy, she was sure it was, but it was an exciting notion, nevertheless, instead of having to hide another yawn and smile dully at a doting caballero in court.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Lolita's stepmother and eldest stepsister. Doña Catalina Sanchez was a respectable woman, widowed after she had given birth to her second child. She herself was a fiery beauty, her brilliant scarlet hair twisted into an elegant, loose bun atop her head with her ivory comb tactfully holding it in place; her black eyes showed everything, every little thought or opinion she had at that moment…if she chose to share them, that is. Her two daughters, Carlotta and Yolanda, were raised as graceful, elegant young ladies, for she would have it no other way. Catalina was a fine woman, and while she appeared to be cold and unapproachable, she yearned to find happiness again. Carlos found a kindred spirit in her after his wife, Lolita's mother, had died, and the two had been married nearly five years now. While Catalina vowed to go wherever her husband went, she was not eager to face the dangers or uncertainties California offered.

Carlotta could be considered the splitting image of her mother. The same red hair in ringlets was placed atop her head, her body covered with fine lace and precious gems, while her dark eyes flashed impetuously, regardless of what anyone would think of her. She prided herself on being beautiful and correct in the eyes of all. While she kept her mouth shut in front of important figures and acted coyly as one would expect of a sensual woman of twenty, she could hardly stand it when Lolita spoke her mind and opposed her in nearly all that she said and did. Therefore, it was rather commonplace to see the two stepsisters glaring or sharing a tart word with one another.

Yolanda, on the other hand, was the opposite of her sister. With chestnut curls she kept tame in a ponytail resting upon her shoulder, she hid all her thoughts and simply smiled sweetly as she looked on with her cool, sky blue eyes. A shy beauty of eighteen, Yolanda much preferred embroidering in la sala as opposed to attending a fiesta like her big sister. Because she was so timid, she was often forgotten at such events and ignored. Lolita often felt like a mother hen to her since she was usually the one to keep Yolanda company and introduce her to guests.

"Honestly, Father, what could be so wonderful about this backwater town?" Carlotta spoke up once more, snapping Lolita out of her drowsy stupor from the ride. "I suppose we will be among ruffians and savages here – we're so far from civilization!"

"You've never been there before, how would you know?" Catalina questioned, raising an eyebrow at her daughter in an effort to stop her from upsetting Don Carlos.

"There is a garrison, a quaint village, plenty of dons living in fine haciendas, and beautiful scenery, according to the accounts I've read in Spain," Don Carlos offered, glancing over at the sixth figure in the coach. "Your family was originally from this area, weren't they, Consuela?"

The Indian servant nodded politely, smiling at her master. Consuela was a descendant of the Miwok Tribe that originated in Alta California; her family had converted to Catholicism by the time she was born, and thus, she was brought to Spain through her family's master. The old man died, leaving her and her mother in Don Carlos's care, where she became Lolita's personal handmaid and cared for her like a sister. She was a proud, silent woman of nearly thirty years, her black hair braided tightly and woven upon her head while she kept her shawl around her dark arms. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with excitement as she glanced at Lolita, who understood her without having to say a word. This made Lolita anxious to be free of the coach even more so, so that the two of them could speak freely without having to worry about what Catalina or Carlotta would say about their conversations.

"I imagine there are some young nobles living with their families and eager to find suitable wives," Carlos mentioned casually, though his mischievous eyes caught with Catalina's own and the two shared a hopeful smile. "I'm sure there will be plenty of people to meet and events to attend, mi queridas."

"Hmph," Carlotta scowled, her hand moving rapidly to use the poor fan in an effort to cool herself. "The coyotes will make off with us before we can make it to the pueblo-"

The sharp sound of a gunshot and the jolt of the four steeds pulling the coach made the six passengers lurch out of their seats, all of them gasping and crying out in surprise. Lifting the leather cover from the window, Don Carlos stuck his head out to call to the driver when he saw three figures approaching the coach on horseback. "Banditos!" he exclaimed, watching them gain on the stagecoach with frightening speed. "Driver!" he called, waving at the man wildly. "How much further to Los Angeles?!"

"Not for another three miles!" the man cried back, crying out in pain as a bullet whizzed past his shoulder. Carlos watched in horror as the reins slipped from his hands, the horses running madly out of control. Slipping back into the coach, he frantically reached under his seat and pulled out a hidden rifle, already loaded and ready for use.

"Mi amor, what's happening?!" Catalina gasped as she watched with large eyes.

"Bandits are attacking the coach and shot the driver, he's lost control of the reins," he said, reaching for the door in hopes of climbing onto the driver's seat.

"Father, you can't!" Yolanda pleaded, clutching her handkerchief to her breast. "You'll slip and fall!"

"I must-!" Carlos felt himself fall back onto the bench as the coach rocked violently, the wheels creaking under the sudden shift of weight at such a fast speed. His head smacked against the wall and within a second, Don Carlos remained unconscious.

"Carlos!" Catalina cried, reaching out to him when another violent swing sent them rocking again, throwing Lolita off of her feet as she tried to reach her father. Catalina felt her heart stop as she saw Lolita swing and fall, hitting the coach door with such force that she fell out. Catalina's vision went black as she fainted, slumping against Carlotta.

As the two girls panicked and struggled to keep their parents in place, Consuela lunged for the doorway, giving a breath of relief as she saw her young mistress clinging to the waving door. "Hold tight, Lolita!" she cried out. "I'll get y-!" Her message was cut short as a bullet flew past, penetrating the wood of the door and sending splinters flying.

"Get back in the coach!" Lolita shouted over the wind and horses' whinnies. "I'll climb up to the driver! Shut the door tightly once I kick it back to you!"

Consuela shook her head vehemently in refusal, sick at the thought of those bandits catching them or shooting her adoptive little sister, but Lolita had already lunged for the handles at the top of the coach, kicking her feet out to send the door flying back, nearly smacking Consuela in the face. Lolita prayed that God would give her the strength and courage to do what had to be done, and quickly. She could already hear the jeers of the bandits, and as she glanced back, she could see their faces in the dying light of day, he three men sneering and hooting as her skirts and hair flew around her. Pulling herself up with all her might, she gasped for breath as she sat atop their luggage, her knuckles going white as she clung to the ropes and railing. She could make out the head of the coachman, slumped in his seat as he bit back his pain struggled to remain conscious.

Painstakingly, Lolita crawling forward, wincing as she heard more bullets shoot out. When at last she arrived at the head, she dared to glance back upon hearing a shout of shock from the three horsemen. At first, she believed it was because she had made it so far and was still alive, but as her eyes fell upon their forms once more, she felt her heart leap within her breast.

A fourth horseman, dressed impeccably in black and wearing a mask that covered half of his face, was racing towards the coach on a wild black stallion. With one hand on his reins, he swung his shining sword at the three perpetrators, his cape flapping in the wind as it trailed after him. One by one, the bandits were pricked and poked off of their horses until the last one pulled his sword out and began to swing back. Again, Lolita felt her heart leap within her, though she wasn't sure why. Forcing her attention back at the driver, she dared to inch forth and haphazardly twist her body around so that her feet landed first on the driver's bench. Biting her tongue, she tossed herself beside the man and yelped as she grabbed for the seat railings, turning her head to the driver.

"Are you hurt?" she shouted over the wind, her stomach twisting as she saw blood oozing from his left arm.

"Sí, señorita…I…I'm sorry," he groaned, clutching his wound and the railings. "The reins…" His eyes trailed down to the bottom ledge of the coach, where the coach and horses' harnesses met. There, waving languidly amid the commotion, were the reins.

Her brows furrowing, Lolita looked up and saw the edge of a pueblo becoming larger in the distance. If she didn't at least try to get the reins, the horses might not stop in time and her whole family could be injured.

"S-Señorita!" the driver cried as she unsteadily lowered herself slowly, her knees quaking and her heart racing as she viciously gripped the bench.

Ignoring the man, Lolita felt her chest constricting as she placed her feet on the thin ledge just before the hook that held the horses' harnesses, the leather straps so near and yet so far. She was certain her heart would leap out of her chest at any moment, her eyes filling with tears in fear. "Bend, reach, grab and up," she whispered to herself, her words lost in the air. "Do it, Lolita…" Bending her knees ever so slowly, she lowered herself, her back straight as she stretched out one arm towards her goal. She felt absolutely ridiculous in doing so, imagining Carlotta mocking her from behind, which gave caused her to laugh at the absurdity of it all, giving her a boost of courage. Holding her breath, she whipped her hand downwards, catching the loop with the tips of her fingers. A breath of relief escaped her as she smiled, though it was short-lived. Another sudden rocking motion sent her off-balance, her feet lifting off the ledge as she arched sideways. A scream was about to break free of her throat when suddenly, a gloved hand wrapped itself around her wrist and pulled her up. Within a second, she found herself in a man's arms, her body clinging to his for dear life.

"Are you all right, señorita?"

Raising her eyes, she felt her heart skip a beat as she found herself gazing into the masked man's dark brown eyes, concern shining through as he held her tightly to his chest. She could see his skin was tanned, and he wore a caballero's thin moustache upon his upper lip. His entire being seemed to have an aura of mystery and power, which both frightened and allured her.

"…Sí," she answered shakily at last, her mind snapping back to the situation at hand. "Díos mío! The horses!" she cried, her hand still gripping the loose reins. Her hand was sore and stiff from anxiously squeezing the leather straps but she dared not let go. "Please," she pleaded, facing the stranger once more as they both sat beside the weary driver. "Help me!"

Without another word, the masked man made certain she was seated securely beside him before wrapping an arm around her and helping her grip the reins. Twisting them around his own hands and wrists, he warned her, "This will require all our strength, the horses are still wild and we need to stop them before they get to the outskirts of the pueblo. Are you ready, señorita?"

She nodded once, her jaw set as she accepted his assistance, tensing in anticipation.

"We pull together…one…two…three!" he announced, tugging with her on the reins, bracing his body for the resistance of the horses as they jolted, pausing and stalling one moment, then lunging forth again in uncertainty. "Again!" he ordered, signaling her once more when to tug with all her might. Once more the horses resisted, though not as strongly this time. "One last time! Ready?"

"Yes," she said, holding her breath once more.

"NOW!"

Praying to God for repose from this never-ending nightmare, Lolita pulled with the masked man once again, almost falling off of her seat from the sudden stop the horses made. Thankfully, the stranger's arms wrapped around her swiftly, pulling her to his chest again just before she could go flying. Heaving a breath of relief, she felt her body slump against his despite the need for decorum, exhausted from nerves and physical strain. "Thank God," she sighed, tensing when she heard the man's deep chuckle. Slowly, she turned her head and looked up at him again, their eyes locking.

"You did well, señorita…that was very dangerous of you to do…dangerous, but brave," he said softly, drinking in the sight of her long, disheveled midnight curls around her heart-shaped face, her long eyelashes framing her large brown eyes as she stared in awe at him. Her two lips reminding him of velvety, pink rose petals, tempting and innocent all at once. She couldn't have been any older than nineteen, perhaps twenty, years of age, and around her neck on a black silk cord hung a locket of the finest silver.

"Gracias, señor…for helping me," she said at last, looking away and blushing at once. "…and for saving my life." Daring once more, she raised her face and asked, "Is there any way I can repay you? May I know your name?"

The masked man smiled at this, tipping his hat to her. "I am known as Zorro, and you may always count on me when you are in dire need, señorita. As for repaying me, there is only one thing I desire of you."

"And that is…?"

"Your name."

She smiled at him, unknowingly setting his blood racing. "I am Lolita Rosalinda Pulido del Castillo, recently arrived from Spain, Señor Zorro." She offered her hand to him as her father would, expecting him to at least touch it briefly or allow her the courtesy of shaking it as acquaintances or partners would. Instead, he took her hand and brought his lips to it, kissing it fervently. She felt her face become warm, her eyes cast to the ground as he pressed his mouth to her skin. When he finally pulled away, she could feel his eyes on her face. Never had she felt so alive or precious until that very moment.

"Lolita!"

The two felt their heads lift at once upon hearing the new voice. Turning, they found Consuela and Carlotta stepping out of the coach, both of them wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the sight of Lolita with a masked bandit. Once more Lolita's face became red, but this was an entirely different reason. Off in the distance, a cloud of dust seemed to be approaching the coach, the sound of horses and men coming closer.

"I believe this is my cue to exit," Zorro noted with a wry grin, saluting the señoritas before turning back to Lolita. "Until we meet again, my brave señorita," he winked, whistling sharply before arising and climbing atop the coach.

Lolita twisted her body around to catch sight of him as he leapt off the stagecoach, landing nimbly into the saddle of his loyal stallion, the two of them riding like the wind towards the vast wilderness. He turned and waved one last time as his raven-colored horse reared majestically, then galloping away before the riders could catch sight of him. Lolita felt herself waving back in spite of herself, a smile growing on her lips as she watched him vanish.

"Lolita, are you all right? Madre de Díos, we need to get this man to a doctor!" Consuela exclaimed upon seeing the wounded driver, lying back against his post and completely oblivious to what was going on.

"Lolita! Who was that man? What on earth were you doing there with him?!" Carlotta demanded, her neck becoming red at the thought of the stranger sitting so closely to her little stepsister.

"His name is Zorro…" Lolita began, her words dying as she stared after him her entire being burning with curiosity and wonder. "Zorro…the Fox…"

A/N: PLEASE tell me I didn't make her a Mary-Sue! I'm hoping Lolita can be a little impulsive and proactive for her time, but she isn't going to be like Catherine Zeta-Jones (I'm pretty sure most women back in the day weren't even allowed near a sword). Please let me know what you think and I'll see you all next time!