Note: This story is a fanfic for Hetep-Heres's epic "Fruta de la Pasión". I highly recommend you read that first, before you try your hand at this one, since I'm dropping into the story in between her chapter 87 and 88, so you'll understand that a lot has happened before this snippet takes place!

This story was born from a private discussion between the author and myself, on how Diego would manage to juggle yet another secret life. I have no idea how far it is going to extend, but since there is a six months gap between chapter 87 and 88 where we imagined events like this to take place, obviously I have a little leeway to come up with some interesting snippets. I will try to stay as faithful as I can to the original story and not mess up whatever Hetep-Heres still has in stock for us, but I hope you'll forgive me if one of her new plots contradicts what I make up here. After all, it's *her* story, not mine, and I have as little idea what else she has in store for us as you have. I'm eagerly looking forward to find out!

But rest assured that this story has been written and now published with the full approval of Hetep-Heres herself.

So here it is:

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Multiple Personalities in Disorder

A Fruta de la Pasión Fanfic

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"Don Diego," Victoria began as they were both getting dressed, each on their own side of her bed. "Would you mind coming in the evening sometimes, too? After closing time?"

Diego looked up. "You mean... for this?"

"Yes. Staying the night for it."

He frowned. Staying out for siesta was one thing – there were plenty of excuses to explain away his absence from the hacienda for an hour or two in the afternoon. And it wasn't as if he was a novice at coming up with excuses. But still... staying the night? On one hand, he'd love to of course, but there were other things to consider. Zorro for starters.

"I love our siestas together, I really do," Victoria was saying. "But it's always..." She bit her lip. "You do enjoy it, too, don't you? Our..."

His broad smile immediately erased the sudden anxiety from her face. "Oh yes, I do. I do enjoy it. And very much so," he assured her.

She returned his smile. "But we always have so little time at siesta," she lamented. "Wouldn't it... I don't know... be more effective if we could keep at it for a whole night?"

His eyebrows shot up. "A whole night?! Are you sure you're up to that?" To be honest, he wasn't so sure he was. Physically, that is, despite his body's being in prime condition thanks to Zorro. But as much as he revelled in making love to her, it was a surprisingly exhausting exercise.

"I don't know," she replied hesitantly – well, at least she was honest about it. "But we can well try, can't we?"

"Sure. Trying probably won't hurt." Even if it meant a lot of organization on his part. How, for example, was he going to manage if Zorro needed to appear while he was in the middle of nocturnal love-making with Victoria?

She gave him another of those radiant smiles of hers. "Good. How about... say, next Wednesday?" And at his surprised look, she elaborated, "There is something I need to take care of. To make sure that we won't be disturbed."

"Ah... Oh!" The penny dropped. Of course! He only just held back his grin. For it was true: Victoria occasionally received nocturnal visits from her masked lover. Her masked lover whom she had not told about this secret deal with Diego. So what was she planning to do? Grab Toronado's reins the next time he came rushing through the pueblo and tell him – him-Zorro – to stay away from her from now on? Considering Zorro's unpredictability, that didn't strike him as a foolproof plan for her own peace of mind for Wednesday night. (Even if of course it was physically impossible to begin with for him-Zorro to visit her while she was in bed with him-Diego.) He'd better go and see her as Zorro before Wednesday then. Who knows – this might be the beginning of the end of her relationship with her hero...

"Wednesday then?" Victoria repeated as she got up.

"Wednesday night," he confirmed. "I'll do my best to get away. And..." He smiled mischievously. "A few siestas before that, I hope?"

"Definitely." She took his hand for a moment and squeezed it. "Thank you, Don Diego. You're a real good friend."

Back in the Guardian's office a few minutes later, Diego took out Señor Estómago's column. Neither spelling nor grammar were Mendoza's forte, but he knew what he was talking about and the people of Los Angeles loved his column. It just took some thorough proofreading and editing each week before the article was ready to be set in type.

But he found it hard today to concentrate on Mendoza's scribbles. It was Victoria's request of course to stay the night. How was he going to organize that, without raising everybody's suspicions? And Felipe's suspicions in particular?

His father had never noticed his constant nocturnal absences when he was out riding as Zorro, so there was no reason to expect that he'd start noticing now.

But Felipe?

Felipe was aware of practically all Zorro's comings and goings. And of Diego's, for that matter. Acutely observant as the boy was, Diego had already intercepted a puzzled glance or two these past weeks as he came back from his siestas with Victoria. It wouldn't take much more for the young man to start asking questions – questions he had no intention of answering just yet.

So Felipe was the first obstacle to avoid. And in order to lull the boy into thinking nothing was out of the ordinary, he'd have to act perfectly normal that night. And to Felipe, Diego staying out all night was perfectly normal indeed – as long as he did it as Zorro. Which meant he'd have to leave the hacienda as Zorro that night, and then change back to Diego before he reached the pueblo to go and see Victoria. And have Toronado hide somewhere close to town with all of Zorro's paraphernalia, just in case Zorro would be needed that night.

Question was: if that should be the case, then how was he going to explain his leaving to Victoria? The realistic fear of discovery in case the lancers would come and search the tavern for Zorro? But what kind of excuse was that when Zorro hadn't even appeared yet?

He let out a sigh. Life had already been pretty complicated with just him-Zorro and him-Diego. With his him-Secret-Father-to-Be added to the mix, the old complications simply seemed to multiply at every new development. As a matter of fact, hadn't he come across something like that back at the university? An essay or something, about people who thought they were more than one person?

He allowed himself a grim chuckle. If anyone fit that bill, he did. He'd have to try and recall the name of the author of that paper, and see if he could get hold of it. Who knows – a better understanding of his problem might even help him keep all his different lives straight...

Siesta time was officially over. But no one was banging on the door yet, so Victoria felt no remorse about keeping her doors locked a little longer.

She was standing in her room, deep in thought, staring out the window. For having Don Diego stay all night was a wonderful prospect in the light of their... um... project, but what if Zorro chose that very night to come and pay her a visit again? And find her in bed with Don Diego of all people – both of them starknaked and in the middle of doing the deed? She didn't even want to contemplate the many painful, embarrassing and maybe even dangerous scenarios that could veer off from that point. Better avoid that nightmare altogether. And since she couldn't count on Zorro to show himself in private before Wednesday, she'd just have to make sure he wouldn't be able to enter her bedroom if he did come that night.

Which was easier said than done. Locks barely seemed to slow him down, and with his phenomenal agility, he could probably find twenty different ways to get into her bedroom. Not a good idea when she was having Don Diego in her bed...

So if there'd be no chance to talk to him before Wednesday (and she sure wasn't looking forward to that particular talk...), she'd have to make him understand in another way that she didn't want to see him in her bedroom that night. Maybe not even in the tavern. But no, she couldn't ask that of him. If he needed to take refuge, her door would always be open for him. He could hide here as long as he wished – just not in her bedroom next Wednesday night.

Perhaps she could put up a message somewhere that night. Somewhere where no one but he would see it. Where he usually entered the tavern for example. But that could be anywhere: over the years, he had entered by the back door, the kitchen window, the balcony, the window to the cellar, her bedroom window, any of the guest rooms, and even the front door... Actually, she was half and half waiting for him to make a spectacular entrance down the chimney one night. He certainly was crazy enough for it!

She sighed – a wistful little sigh. Life would never be dull with Zorro at her side. But would that life ever come?

No. She had waited long enough. Of course she would keep waiting for him – after all, she loved him and he loved her. And a promise is a promise – for heaven's sake, they were engaged to be married! She'd just have to make him understand that while waiting for him, life itself was passing her by, and she didn't want to end up totally empty-handed by the time he'd finally be able to remove his mask. It had nothing to do with her love for him – that love was true, and steady. Don Diego was just a good friend. He was just doing her (and himself) a favour. And Zorro, too, for that matter: he wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore about not being able to give her children yet. Perfect solution, wasn't it?

Now if she could only get him to see it that way, too. Men could be so mulish sometimes. So old-fashioned, too. Was Zorro old-fashioned? Hardly, she thought. Sure, he behaved like an old school gentleman towards her, but he certainly broke the law a lot. Would he be equally willing to disregard the social laws of good behaviour?

And what if he didn't understand? What if he got all jealous and angry about it?

She sighed. It was not going to be an easy talk. She almost hoped he would not show his face until Wednesday night, so she would have to convey the message in another way.

But the question remained: how?

Making love at night, by nothing but the silvery light of the moon, was a totally new experience. Her hair shone with the colour of ebony, and the V of luscious red roses he had laid out on her pillow tonight was now neatly entwined in her hair. Her skin was as snow in the pale light of the moon; her lips raspberry red. How he loved those lips – again and again and again he kissed them, softly, ardently, passionately. She was his for the whole night, and he had every intention of making the most of it.

Her thoughts seemed to be going in the same direction. Not a word was uttered in the moonlit room (apart from the occasional soft groan or gasp of pleasure), but it wasn't necessary. By now they knew exactly what the other wanted and needed to come to full fulfillment, and they played one another to absolute perfection.

He had lost all track of time. There was just Victoria – his Victoria, who kissed him, touched him, stroked him, caressed him, held him as they navigated their way towards absolute ecstasy. It was glorious, it was mind-blowing, it was...!

For a moment, the enchanting moonlight was blocked by a giant shadow jumping into the room, saying, "Buenas noches, Señorita." In a voice as calm as a cucumber.

"Zorro!" Victoria exulted.

Before he knew what happened, she pushed him out and off of her, and with a thud, he landed on the floor on the other side of the bed.

"I knew you would come!" he heard Victoria gush, and suddenly, the room was as bright as if the afternoon sun was shining straight through the thick adobe walls.

He blinked against the brightness, and pushed himself up on his knees. "Victoria?" He looked across the bed. And immediately wished he hadn't. But his eyes were glued to the scene on the other side of Victoria's bed.

Zorro. And Victoria. A naked Victoria. In Zorro's arms. Kissing each other senseless, groping and fondling and caressing each other, letting out those delighted little gasps and moans that she had shared with him mere moments ago... It was sheer torture to watch, but his eyes refused to let go.

"Victoria?" he croaked. "Victoria, what are you doing?!"

But it was Zorro who answered him. "Sorry, amigo, but she's mine. She always will be."

"But... Victoria, we have a deal!" he cried.

"Yes, we do," she coolly agreed. "Don't worry, Don Diego. Our deal still stands. I need you to give me that child I've been yearning for. The child Zorro can't give me yet." She smiled up at her hero – radiant enough to sicken him. And then she frowned back at him. "Surely you didn't expect me to fall in love with you in the process? I mean – look at you!"

He looked down, and suddenly he realized that he was still in his birthday suit. Standing starknaked in front of his archrival. His fully dressed and armed and ever so dashing and debonair archrival, who was holding the beautiful and equally starknaked Victoria in his arms. His Victoria!

He gulped. This couldn't be happening...

"I'm sorry, Don Diego," he heard Victoria's voice as from afar. "I didn't mean to get your hopes up. I thought you knew that I consider you just a friend. A dull and boring friend, yes, but a good friend. My best friend even. But my heart belongs to Zorro. It always has, and it always will."

Zorro even winked at him – the bastard. "First come, first serve, amigo. Now, querida..." He turned back to the naked Victoria pressing herself up against his musculous body. "Shall we go for a ride in the moonlight? We'll just have to give the lancers the slip first, of course, but..."

"No problem," Victoria beamed at him. "You can do anything. I mean – you're Zorro! Oh... goodbye, Don Diego. See you at siesta tomorrow?"

Before lifting her up in his arms, Zorro saluted him – almost mockingly, he thought. "Adios, amigo." And with that, he stepped onto the window sill and jumped out of the window. By the sound of it, he landed straight on Toronado's back – he recognized that particular whinny all too well. And then there were flying hooves disappearing into the distance.

Wait a moment – hadn't he come here on Toronado tonight? Then how...?

Suddenly, the bedroom door was pulled wide open (hadn't he seen Victoria lock it tonight before they got into her bed?) and on the threshold appeared... Felipe. With the darkest glare he had ever seen from him, and carrying a giant bouquet consisting of a sunflower and daisies and poppies and lots of baby-breath and...

He felt himself blushing a fiery red, all the way from his crown to his toes. Felipe... This was even worse than facing Zorro starknaked.

Quickly, he groped for one of the bedsheets. But there were no bedsheets. Instead, Leonor's voice came floating to him from outside the window. "Look, Papà! Diego is in his birthday suit!" A giggle. "Doesn't he look funny?"

"No, he doesn't," his father's gruff voice replied. "Your brother is a disgrace to the De la Vega name, Leonor. He's a coward, a spineless good-for-nothing, an adulterer, a..."

"Look who's talking!" he retorted.

"Bah!" said Felipe from the doorway. "So much for all those good principles and honour and virtue you two are always going on about. And naïve as I was, I looked up to you, as my heroes, my role models!" He snorted disdainfully. "I see I had better set my sights elsewhere. Maybe the Alcalde would make a more honest rolemodel for me to follow." And he turned on his heel.

"Felipe, wait!" he cried. He couldn't bear losing Felipe, too!

Felipe, the only person with whom he could be himself.

Felipe, his only refuge from the perpetual contempt and ridicule.

Felipe kept him sane.

And he was suddenly terrified that he might lose himself completely if he lost Felipe's friendship – his loyalty, his love, his camaraderie, his... well, admiration... He...

Wait.

He said...

Felipe said...

? ? ?

I must be dreaming.

It must be a dream.

He forced his mind back to consciousness and opened his eyes.

It was dark, but there was no doubt that he was in his own bedroom in the hacienda. In his own bed. Tangled up in his own nightshirt and sheets. With the pale moonlight casting a beam across the marble floor towards the oak cabinet in the corner.

He closed his eyes again for a moment.

It was just a dream.

Just a nightmare.

But what a nightmare...