The title was given to us by Senselesswords. I am very grateful for the care she took with it. It is absolutely lovely! Thank you.

Warnings for occasional foul language, angst, and medical theory that is 200 years out of date.

Finally, as always, thanks to Pam, without whose patient transcripts no fanfic would be possible for months and months.

June 18, 1813

The fight started when Don Carlos stopped by to see if Don Alejandro's odd sheep had arrived. They had, two ewes and a ram, but before going out to admire the funny-looking things, they had to have a glass of wine and some little cakes in the parlor. When Don Carlos mentioned that the northbound coach had been robbed the evening before and that everyone was sure it was the same bandits who'd robbed the Russians, Gilberto had flashed a brief, sly smile, and Diego had snapped the quill he was holding.

They quarreled invisibly for the next ten minutes, Gilberto asking apparently idle questions about the crime and Diego apparently correcting Felipe's mathematics assignment. Intermittently they caught each other's eyes, and Gilberto would look frustrated and Diego would bristle with anger and dig the new quill into the page.

When Don Alejandro and Don Carlos finally went outside to the paddock where the new sheep were temporarily housed, the quarrel came into the open. "You were feverish two days ago. So far we've avoided a serious infection, but if you re-open that cut-"

"It is a very small cut-"

"It's deep."

"And it's not in a place where I'll pull on it while riding. I'll be fine."

Diego stood up. "No. The hills are crawling with lancers searching for the bandits."

"And they won't find them. They don't have a decent tracker among them."

"They aren't as good as you. That doesn't mean they are imbeciles. And you are as likely to find lancers as the bandits."

"Now that's just insulting."

"'Berto, it's too soon. You aren't healed. Don't do this."

Slowly, Gilberto closed the distance between them. Strangely-since he still had to look up slightly to meet his brother's eyes-it seemed as though they were the same height. "Can you at least pretend to have a little faith in me?"

Diego flinched, his breath catching. He started to retreat, but he was pinned by the chair. The only place to go was to sit down. "You know it isn't that," he whispered. "It's my own helplessness. I can't be there with you, and knowing you are alone..."

Gilberto laughed once. It was a weak, unhappy sound. He squatted down so that they were facing each other again. "Oh, I understand that, Little Brother. I've watched you fight alone for months. And I know it's hard. For our whole lives...we never had to do anything alone. But this-this misplaced guilt of yours, it isn't helping me."

Diego didn't answer that.

"What I need you to do is take a good look at me-and see me, not all this fear of yours-and tell me the truth. Can I do this? Am I good enough to be Zorro? Tell me the truth. You believe in the truth. And if I'm not, we'll put the mask away and think of something else."

Diego swallowed.

"The truth. You always say the truth-"

"Yes," Diego whispered. "You are good enough."

"Then there's no reason to rip yourself apart."

Diego closed his eyes. "Felipe, go saddle the horse, please."

"Tell Father I'm out checking on the bees," he said over his shoulder as he preceded Felipe through the secret door.

When he was finished with Toronado, Felipe turned to Gilberto, who was fussing with the mask, trying to get it tight enough to stay in place without crushing his hair too badly. He knocked on the table for attention and asked, "You don't care about truth?"

"Oh. Well." Gilberto gave up on the mask and put his hat on. "Truth." He glanced narrowly at Felipe. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not advocating ignoring reality or lying about it. But so often...so many things are true, and other things are also true, and they are mutually exclusive, so 'truth' contradicts itself. I know it shouldn't be possible, but it's so. Worse, sometimes truth changes-I don't mean that you simply get more information and discover you were wrong, not always. I mean the world changes sometimes."

Suspiciously, Felipe asked, "Is that heresy?"

"Oh, probably. But I'll never do anything I'll have to confess because of it. That was a promise to Diego, which is far more powerful then mere truth." He ran his hands briefly over Toronado's flank. "You want to know about truth? All right, the sad part is, for most people the truth isn't very useful. They believe what they want to believe or what is easy to believe. Or whatever won't inconvenience them too badly."

"You have a very low opinion of human beings," Felipe said a little primly. Diego, he knew, did believe truth was valuable for its own sake.

The comment made Gilberto laugh. "Well...yes. I suppose. There are certainly a number of specific human beings I have a low opinion of." He made the sign Felipe had been using for the alcalde. "But most people are willing to believe all sorts of silly things. And we use that. You heard what Juan and Raul were saying about Zorro yesterday- He has the fastest horse that ever lived, he can't be wounded with regular bullets, it's accepted fact that he can fly and walk through walls. According to the neophytes at San Gabriel he speaks all human languages, after all they saw him speak to Russians," he snorted. "Absurd, all of it, but the myth is hobbling the lancers. Never mind how good I actually am; they'll never catch Zorro because they believe they can't."

"Don't get arrogant," Felipe said, since Diego wasn't here to say it.

Gilberto laughed at that. "Thanks, kid, but I carry him in my head." He glanced away. "Get him to lie down for a while. He won't sleep, I know, but at least get him to rest..."

Felipe nodded. Last night had been a bad one. Diego had woken at midnight, panicked and gasping. Felipe had sat with him for over two hours before his racing heart had finally slowed. He'd woken again at dawn, unhappy and too restless to stay in bed, but clearly still tired.

He'd been tired all day, pale, dizzy more than once. Diego said it was just the unseasonable heat bothering him. And maybe that was true: he always seemed most comfortable in the cave where it was much cooler. It had no windows, and yet Diego had never once complained that it was 'close' or 'stifling' down there. Because Gilberto had been 'feeling unwell' (or rather recovering from having a sliver or rock removed from his leg) the last few days, though, Don Alejandro had been hovering about the house, which made it hard for Diego to get away.

Indeed, by the time Felipe returned to the parlor, Don Alejandro was already back from showing his friend the new sheep and seeing him off. He was sitting beside Diego shuffling though a small stack of envelopes. "Look. Tomas got the mail. Apparently the bandits only robbed the passengers and ignored the mail bag...Oh. Diego, one for you." He passed over an envelope.

Diego set down Felipe's philosophy essay and broke the seal. "It's from Father Benitez. Oh!" Diego smiled. "He's coming here. He's been assigned to the parish, now that Father Raphael is being promoted. Well, that's wonderful."

"Is this that dog-breeder friend of yours from Mexico City?"

Diego smiled slightly. "Bird-watcher," he corrected.

Don Alejandro looked slightly disappointed, but he was focused on a letter of his own. "Oh. Dog breeding might have been useful. Oh, look. Dona Isabella is looking to sell that prize bull. She's asking far too much, of course..." He wandered toward his office, muttering about stock bloodlines.

Felipe sat down across from Diego and waited until he'd finished reading the short letter. "I didn't know you were still writing him."

"Just a few times a year. I've never met him..."

"This is good then, that he's coming."

"Oh, yes. I'm very much looking forward to it. I'd send him a letter welcoming him, but I imagine he's already begun the journey." Diego took a deep breath. "Now, about this essay. Why did you bring in Astell's commentary on Descartes?"

Oh. Well. "I thought you would like it." Felipe shrugged.

Diego blinked. "Did you agree with it?"

Felipe wondered if this were a trick question. He didn't trust philosophy and he knew perfectly well that it didn't care if he agreed or not. "It doesn't matter what I think. Nobody is going to ask me."

"I am asking you."

That was true, and Felipe wasn't entirely sure it was playing fair. Philosophy was something you proved you understood, not something people asked you to pretend you could pass judgment upon. "You'll be angry if I tell you. And that wasn't the assignment, anyway. So let's move on to the mathematics."

Diego eyed him like a chemistry experiment that was bubbling and steaming when it should just be changing color. "I promise I won't be angry. Tell me what you think."

"I think he's right...and knowledge is really useful. But I think he makes it all too complicated." He folded his arms for a moment, then reluctantly continued. "Too many words. Maybe I'm just young," an excuse he hated using but since it was thrust on him so often, it was obviously believable, so maybe Diego would accept it let the matter go, "I think I don't need all those words about what is real and what's not. I need it to rain; the hillsides are going yellow too soon and the creek is low. And I need an alcalde who is competent and honest. I need-" I need you to be well and safe.

Felipe dropped his eyes.

"Ah. Yes. Sometimes the necessities of daily living seem to crowd out abstract questions about what it all means. It's very hard to think big when the small problems overwhelm us."

"The small problems matter, too. They're real, and maybe he can philosophy them away, but I can't."

Diego lifted the essay from the table and handed it back to him. "Do it again. This time make that point."

Felipe looked dubiously at the paper.

Diego sighed. "I'll tell you a secret. I think you're probably misunderstanding the Descartes...but it's possible you have a valid point. I don't care. It's your rhetorical skills we're trying to improve. I want you to write me an essay of what you think. Exactly and completely what you think. Later on we'll talk about techniques for writing what you think someone wants to read." He smiled a little. "Not now. You worked hard enough this morning. Tomorrow will do."

"Come sit outside," Felipe urged. "Breeze. Shade."

Diego winced. "No. Oh, no. I'll sit and worry about him, and you'll sit and worry about me. Oh, I have a much better idea. This will be fun." Diego rose slowly and swayed, catching himself with a hand on the arm of the chair. Felipe reached for him, but was waved off. "No, it's all right." Diego took a deep breath, closing his eyes while he waited for the vertigo to pass. When he was ready, he walked over to the piano. "Bring that little chair and put it here," he said, moving the stool over.

Felipe felt a sharp bite of panic. The last time Diego had tried playing the piano he'd ended up collapsing. Felipe did not want to do that again. He glanced around, hoping Don Alejandro would come back-

Diego took the chair from his hands. "Stop panicking. I'm not playing, you are." He set the chair beside the stool.

"I can't!" Felipe signed. "I don't know how."

Diego sat in the chair and pointed at the stool. "Not yet," he agreed easily. "Trust me. This will be fun. Sit down."

Felipe sat.

Diego looked at him. "Mostly, it is a matter of practice. Playing the piano is a skill. It's learned. It's not mystical and it's certainly nothing to be nervous about."

Of course it was something to be nervous about. It was also ridiculous and stupid. Felipe could not do this. The idea would be funny if it weren't utterly terrifying.

Gently, Diego took Felipe's hands and guided them into position-and that was familiar, wasn't it? His whole life Diego had been guiding his hands. Felipe forced himself to breathe.

"Now, this key is a C. You strike by-" he stopped, glancing up from the keys to look into Felipe's eyes. "I'm going about this all wrong. You can't read music."

Felipe shrugged. Once, in fact, Diego had tried to explain sheet music. It had been years ago, in sign language, when Felipe had mostly forgotten music anyway. It hadn't made any sense.

There was music on the little stand. Diego opened it and pointed to the black and white pattern. "Music is written on a staff, these little lines. The dots show pitch-by how high and low they are on the lines-and duration or how long the note lasts-by the shape of the note. Do you follow? You read from left to right, like words on a page."

Felipe nodded uncertainly.

Diego pointed at the first black dot on the page. "This note goes with this key." He touched the piano and it came to life, spilling out a lovely tone.

There seemed to be hundreds of little dots on the page. One after another, fast, to make a song. Felipe felt a little ill.

Diego was continuing, one hand tracing a set of black does on the page, the other delicately tapping out a string of resonant sounds. "Think of the staff as a set of stairs or a ladder, and the notes go up and down...and you have no idea at all what I'm talking about. This is making no sense at all."

"I'm sorry!" Felipe signed at once.

Diego squeezed his shoulder, at the same time signing, "Don't worry," with his free hand.

Felipe tried not to look worried. He must have done a poor job of it, because Diego frowned deeply and said, "You're frightened, you're absolutely terrified. Felipe, why?"

He had no idea how to answer that, so he didn't try. Diego searched him with his eyes. He saw everything, and he was thinking, and he said, "Is there pain? In your head? In your ears?"

Vigorously, Felipe shook his head.

Diego leaned slightly closer. "Would you tell me, if there was?"

Felipe nodded firmly. He told Diego the truth, even when it was shameful, even when it got him into trouble. In the choice between punishment and losing Diego's trust, well there was no choice, was there? "I would tell you."

Diego frowned, still looking. "But you didn't tell anyone, did you? Before?"

Felipe really hoped that he didn't understand what Diego was asking. He closed his eyes, but of course, when you could hear that didn't stop people from continuing conversations you didn't like. And, as always, Diego was way too smart for anyone else's convenience. "There was pain, and you didn't go to anyone."

He had to nod, although Diego didn't need the confirmation. He continued relentlessly. "And it was bad," he said.

Felipe shook his head.

"Felipe."

"It wasn't bad. It just...wouldn't go away."

"How long?"

Felipe didn't know. "Days?" Probably longer.

"When was this?"

Felipe wasn't sure. For a long time he'd been uncomfortable and worried with an endless ache at the back of his head. And then everything had gone completely mad. "Last spring, sometime," he said.

"It probably started in the middle of March," Don Alejandro said. He was standing beside the writing desk. Felipe hadn't heard him arrive. "Looking back afterward, I could see that he'd been behaving oddly for a few weeks...but this is the first I've heard of any pain."

"Weeks." Diego dropped his eyes and took the deep breath that he took when he was choosing to stay calm. Felipe hoped it was anger he was dismissing and not disappointment. "'We've had a bit of drama here. Felipe has begun to hear loud noises. The house was in quite an uproar, initially, but things have settled down, now, and his hearing has improved steadily over the last few days.'"

"You weren't here. I didn't want to worry you or get your hopes too high too soon. How could I tell you..."

"You could give me a few more details now. Either of you."

Don Alejandro sat down and considered them both for a long moment before saying, "The first I knew anything was wrong...he didn't return from his morning chores. The whole house turned out to search for him. Little Pepe finally found him in the hayloft, completely..."

He'd been completely panicked, sure he was dying or going mad or his head was about to explode. The solid, almost physical buffeting that seemed to burst from within his own mind-he hadn't recognized it as sound. It was nothing like his memory. It had been harsh and chaotic and impossible to think through.

"I don't blame him for hiding. I've never seen anyone so afraid. It must have terrible, there was no way to get away from it. Although," here he glanced at Felipe and smiled sadly, "hiding in the barn where one of the mares was in heat was probably not the most fortunate choice."

Felipe closed his eyes. He felt slightly ill. That was probably embarrassment. This story wasn't going to get any better.

"After you found him?"

"I sent for the doctor. We thought he was ill. The doctor couldn't find anything, though. He examined him three times and then...I'd stayed with them to translate, not that Felipe would talk to us at all. And then Emmanuel dropped something and Felipe flinched and I realized he was shaking when we talked. It just hadn't occurred to me...Anyway, it took half an hour to explain what was happening. Even then, I'm not sure he believed me. I know he didn't sleep for two days."

Felipe wondered if it would help to apologize, or if he should just look amused at what an idiot he'd been.

Very quietly, Diego said, "Thank you."

"Son...I never talked to him about music. I never though of it. He showed no special interest, and there was so much else...It was days before he could understand what we said..."

Diego nodded, digesting that, watching Felipe. "Do you dislike music?" he asked.

No. Oh, no! Or not always, anyway. Felipe shrugged and shook his head.

Diego, watching his reaction, smiled gently. "Well, that was resoundingly ambivalent. What can you tell me about music?"

Felipe shrugged.

Diego squeezed his shoulder. "I need some information if I'm going to help you. I can't guess this. I can't imagine..."

Something. "It's pretty. It's...exciting."

Diego smiled an agreement. "Oh, yes. Isn't it?"

"It's too big. I can't think it properly." And then he blushed, because that seemed a really stupid thing to say.

To his surprise Diego nodded as though that had made perfect sense. "Can you think this properly?" He touched a glossy key with his finger and a firm, warm sound floated out.

Felipe nodded.

Diego touched two keys. This sound was very sweet and made him shiver.

"Too big?"

Felipe shook his head. "Beautiful. Like a dream."

"That's called a harmony. Hmmm. What if I ask you...is this sound different than...this one? Which one was higher?"

Felipe wasn't sure. They were both pretty, but they had been similar, and he couldn't hold on to them.

"Close your eyes. Good. Now, we're going to play a game. I'm going to play two notes, and you are going to identify the higher one. All right? I think music won't seem so impossibly 'big' if you can better identify the individual sounds."

It felt like they played the game for years. With his eyes shut, the notes seemed to dance straight into the center of his head. Sweet notes and slicing notes and notes that made him sigh. One, fairly low, that felt like Diego's voice. And one, lower than that, that rang through the air like anger. When Diego finally touched his shoulder and said, "Enough," Felipe felt like his whole body was a piano.

When he looked up he found Diego and his father looking at one another sadly. They were doing the trick the twins usually did with each other-having a conversation without actually talking. "What's wrong?" He tugged Diego's shoulder. "What is it?"

"I should have done this sooner," Diego said. "I didn't...I'm sorry, I didn't think." He was apologizing to Felipe, which just wasn't good.

"What's wrong?"

With his left hand, Diego reached out and ran his fingers over the far keys, counting up one, two, three, four, five of them. "You aren't hearing these. I think you might be feeling the vibrations, but you're not hearing them with your ears...and you've lost most of the highest octave, although you can hear D and E if I hit them hard enough."

Felipe glanced down at the keyboard. He didn't know the notes by name, if you could call giving them letters names, but he knew he wasn't hearing them properly.

Diego swallowed. "Father said you could hear birds. I didn't realize...not all of them?"

Don Alejandro, who had been watching, rose abruptly and retreated to the window.

Felipe shrugged. "If I heard more birds, I'd never get any sleep. It's never quiet anywhere..."

"No, it wouldn't be..." Diego dropped his eyes, and Felipe suddenly realized what they had been silently talking about.

"Hey!" Felipe slapped his shoulder for attention and started over. "Hey. Don't you sit there and feel sorry for me. I hear music. I hear you talk to me. So-stop it."

Don Alejandro snorted. "Well, he's put you in your place, son."

Diego's smile didn't reach his eyes, but Felipe appreciated the effort. "As you say. Back to the lesson: you're actually doing very well. You've made progress already. Next we'll concentrate on having you identify large and small intervals. We'll have to wait until you get the knack of listening to music before we can start on reading sheet music. But that's all right. There isn't a particular hurry-"

"Then you can stop for today," Don Alejandro cut in. "The child is so tired I think his eyes are crossing and..." he paused for a moment. "Come sit over here. Put your feet up. You've been busy all morning."

"And all of it sitting down, Father. It's hardly been a taxing day." But he let Don Alejandro balance him as he stood up.

Felipe ran a single finger along the fronts of the keys. They were impossibly smooth. He closed the keyboard cover. The little tap it made was quiet and resonant. Could Diego do it? Teach him music?

Could music be coherent? For him? He would never sing, of course, but...he might learn to play something simple. To make music...

When he looked up, Diego was sitting in the armchair, his feet up. He had a book in his lap, but the way his head was angled, Felipe guessed he'd be asleep soon. And that was good. Felipe felt a little satisfaction, though he could hardly take credit. Diego had distracted and tired himself...

Don Alejandro motioned him into the hall. Felipe went at once. Hoping to avoid another serious conversation, he quickly offered, "I should go check the roses. They'll need water."

Don Alejandro shook his head. "I'll do it. Felipe-I don't know if you enjoyed that at all."

Felipe shrugged. It was difficult, but no worse than geometry. And maybe, someday, if he did learn to make sense of it, it might even be...wonderful.

"If you can bear it...I'd appreciate it if you'd continue. Diego...I think he'd like very much to share this with you, and..."

Felipe nodded at once. Of course he would continue. Even if it had been unbearable, he would not have refused to learn something Diego had decided to teach him. When Felipe had been about eight, he'd balked at division. The resulting fight-in which Diego had been reasonable and kind and Felipe had been, in retrospect, a complete brat-was still something he was embarrassed about. Never mind that Diego was usually right about everything, including skills other people needed to have, Felipe's pride wouldn't risk balking at something and losing the fight.

Don Alejandro nodded soberly. "Thank you." He looked like he might want to say something else, but he only sighed and looked away. "I should check the roses."

Felipe retrieved the Descartes from the library and sat down at the writing desk. He read the assignment again, this time making a list in his head of all the things he didn't like about it. Possibly...Diego would be completely appalled. But he always said that students made mistakes. Correcting Felipe's appalling ideas would give him something to do, anyway.

Or maybe he would think Felipe was joking. That had happened twice already with his historical summaries.

Diego dozed in the chair until Gilberto returned over two hours later. He swept across from the library practically strutting, his heels taping on the tile floor. He glanced around to make sure he was unobserved and practically crowed, "Got them!" Smugly, he held up three fingers. "Sent them down to the patrol tied across their saddles with large 'Z's carved into their shirts." He bowed.

Felipe signed, "You're amazing!"

It had not been a compliment. Gilberto showed he understood that by ruffling Felipe's hair in the most patronizing way possible and laughing.

Diego smiled as well, but not at the joke. He said, "I would have liked to have seen it."

Sobering suddenly, Gilberto swallowed hard. "Thank you." He stepped nearer. "How are you feeling?"

"I have no complaints. Now come, sit beside me. I want to hear every detail."

~tbc