To Madness

Chapter Thirteen: Age Twenty

A little

A lot

Passionately

(He loved me) To madness

Not at all—from a French game

"I do not think you should ask the senorita to swim. The night air is too chilly."

Constancia had finally escaped from the de la Vega hacienda, after a day of muted words and compassion that she couldn't stand right now. Oh, they'd been so kind that it had driven her mad, sitting in the dining room and pretending everything was all right. Sergeant Garcia had come to dinner, as he had last year, and she had almost cried to see him, looking just as he had eighteen months ago, before anything had happened.

Life was cruel.

Constancia had been put on the ground floor this time; no one wanted the window to be too high or...

She wondered what else her father had told them.

Now she was wandering around in the night air, shawl clutched tightly around her, and trying to keep the tears at bay. As she walked, she let memories of Jaime overtake her, and a hand went to her forehead to massage the headache appearing there.

Si, those had returned also.

Life seemed dull, wretched now, and this was the first spot of freedom she'd had for a year. Her father had caught onto how things stood fairly quickly, and she hadn't been left alone.

But he hadn't told the de la Vegas enough, she thought with bitter satisfaction and continued walking, until she reached a bridge.

She walked idly to the middle, looking down to see water lilies and clutched her shawl so tight that when she released it her hands were numb and it fell to the ground. Without thinking, almost without thinking, she carefully climbed up to the railing and stood there a moment before she let her balance break and felt herself falling, falling...

Something, or someone, grabbed her around the legs, then her torso and then she was dragged off, and then fell to the ground. And Zorro stood above her.

She blinked up at him, eyes red with tears, and now anger. "How dare you?" He hissed, and she startled. "Your life is not your own to be treated like this."

She struggled to her feet. "Zorro, oh please, tell me the same things you told me before. Has this ever happened to you? Did the only man, pardon, woman who ever truly loved you die? Was her life knocked out of her before your very eyes? Did the murderer get away? Please, Zorro, say yes, and maybe I won't kill you."

Her voice was shaking with fury, and Zorro grabbed her by the arms. "I repeat, your life is not your own, Senorita. I understand that you are hurting beyond my comprehension, but, querida, this is not the answer."

As his voice gentled, her anger melted away and suddenly she was crying uncontrollably, and he pulled her to him. "Come along, querida. This helped you last time," and he scooped her up into his arms and led her to his horse. "Let's take a ride," he murmured, and she let him boost her onto the white horse's back, then climbed on himself.

He started out slowly, like he'd gone last time, but gradually he sped up, until they were flying, almost, and suddenly she was clutching at Zorro's arm, placed protectively in front of her, and feeling...well, feeling again.

"Do you think Jaime would wish you to act like you just did?" Zorro asked, his voice close to her ear. "When he gave up so much?"

She felt the tears come again, but they fell gently now and her voice didn't tremble. "He...no, he wouldn't."

"Do you think that you will feel that urge again?"

As the horse ran faster, she felt her heart speed up in reaction to it. "I'm not sure how to answer that," she whispered.

His arm tightened. "I was afraid, Constancia, when I saw you on that bridge. I have rescued many people from death, but you know that this was different."

She nodded, and suddenly, she let a smile come to her lips. "Jaime once said to me, long ago, that I would never marry. We were arguing and I was being a shrew and he said that to get back at me. I guess he was right."

"Constancia..."

"No, it's...that's how I want to remember him," she said, the tears still falling. "And that's how I'll heal."

Healing, no, that was too easy a word. Reconstruction, si. Reconstruction would take a long, long time, but...

thanks to Zorro, she still had the rest of her life.

The End. For now.

A/N: I wanted to write something in which Constancia grew up, and just Miguel obviously didn't do that, hence Adios, everybody!

I liked both of Annette Funicello's characters. It took me longer for me to get to that point, but once I did, I admired them immensely. She brought something to her characters that wasn't in the others, the way that I saw it, and I pitied the fact that she is largely abandoned in fanfiction and forums about Disney's Zorro.

Hence, this. I hope I did the character(s) justice and I dedicate it to the late Annette Funicello. May she rest in peace.