Diego's Questions

James had sent Debbie home to bed, and insisted on staying close to Diego. Elena made her way over to him and sat on the chair next to him.

"Elena…"

"What is going on? Robert didn't have any children," Elena said.

"How are we to know? He went missing, didn't he? He loved Argentina. Why not?"

"Feasible if you want to invent someone's identity," she said softly.

She glanced down at the unconscious man. Without a shirt, Diego de la Vega was even more striking than otherwise. Elena noticed old scars, and fresh injuries and bruises. Definitely a very active man, she mused. His upper arms were very well developed, and he had the build of an athlete.

"Is he a swordsman?"

"How do I know? I only just met the man the other day." James tried to ignore her.

"He reminds me of someone."

"That would be me, I think."

"No," she said crossly. She shook her head. "For twins, we really don't like each other much do we?"

"I'm too busy to fuss with all the nonsense you claim is your life," James said softly. "You can't just keep being selfish and pigheaded all your life."

"He reminds me of one of my first boyfriends," she murmured, not listening to him at all. "My sword master, if you must know. He won gold at national and international level – even an Olympic gold."

"Interesting. Haven't you got somewhere else to be?"

Elena smiled. "Hush," she said. "I think he is waking up…" She murmured, watching as Diego's right hand twitched a little.

James got to his feet immediately, and went to the bedside. Elena stepped back, and watched the scene carefully.

"Diego," James said. "It's alright. You're safe. It's James."

Elena saw the man's eyes flicker open, and glance wildly around for a moment, finally focusing on James. The fear went out of his eyes immediately, and they were bright and curious.

"Where am I, James?"

"I got you to hospital. We saved you. Everything is going to be alright," James said. Elena moved a little closer, and the blue eyes shifted their focus to her.

"Victoria…" He blinked, and sighed. "Wrong eyes…Now I know the feeling."

"You're speaking Spanish," Elena said, and sat down on the chair. "Where do you live?"

Diego hesitated, and looked at James as if for help.

"South America," Diego said softly, switching to English. He sounded a little unsure of himself, Elena thought. Maybe it was a lie, but it was also a huge generalisation.

"Argentina. Uncle Robert was always going to Argentina," James said, guiding his ancestor.

"Yes, that's right. My father travelled to Argentina, and that's where I was born," Diego said, trying to think on his feet.

"This is my sister, Elena Vega. Her professional name is Ellen Hixson."

"What do you do, Diego?" Elena asked softly.

Diego glanced at James, and back at Elena.

"I run a cattle ranch," he said, opting for truth above anything else. He could remember the truth. "I work at a small newspaper office."

"A journalist?" Elena nodded. "It explains everything."

"It does?" Diego said softly. "Good." He sounded a little doubtful.

"The shooting was connected to the newspaper you work on," Elena said. "They want you dead so that what you know will not be revealed. Happens a lot in this town."

"Really?"

"I should know. I am a free lancer myself," she said proudly. "Hence the name change. No one would take me very seriously if they realised I was the daughter of the owner of the Los Angeles Guardian."

"I suppose not," Diego said, a little lost. He glanced at James, his eyes confused.

"Diego's blood pressure is unstable, Elena. How about you visit in visiting hours?" James suggested, using a medical lie to shoo her away. She was awfully excited over Diego. Diego was already incredibly confused.

Elena nodded and was already heading for the door.

"What was she talking about?"

"She's a reporter," James said. A blank look came over Diego's face. "She writes for the newspapers, and specialises in exposing dangerous people."

"That's not good."

"No."

"You said I was in a hospital? I don't have to stay too long, do I? People die in hospitals, they aren't the healthiest places," Diego said softly, so that only they could hear. James looked a little surprised.

"Oh, that's right. Los Angeles didn't have a hospital just yet, did it?"

"No. Other places did, and the number of deaths in them was terrible. People only go to hospital to die, basically."

"Well, our hospital is better," James said a little concerned. "The death rates dropped soon after reforms were made, shortly before the end of the century." It was like explaining the concept to a worried little child. "There are a lot of medicines…do you have needles, syringes, where you come from?"

"Syringes?"

"A very fine needle, with a hollow centre, pierces the skin and it delivers medicine directly to the bloodstream. It's operated by a pump like device," James said. He wished he could rattle off the history of medicine. Diego was very interested, and trying to follow what he had to say. Diego's eyes were lit up with interest. "Something about Pascal's work with hydraulics."

"That's revolutionary," Diego said. "It would have changed medicine forever," he added. "Pascal was brilliant."

"It did. Various other reforms followed it. Penicillin was a great advance – it eradicates infection so fast… Even washing hands has saved lives over time."

"So many people died…of simple things. Women and children die of infections a lot where I come from."

Ian strode over, startling them a little, and smiled down at them. He had overheard a little of the conversation. "You must be very hard up in South America. I know many regions don't have hospitals at all, and the ones they do have are very substandard."

"He comes from Argentina."

"Of course, Robert Vega was always dashing down to Argentina."

"I want to take Diego back to my house soon, Ian. When will he be fit for it?"

"Your home? I suppose that's ok, but I want to keep an eye on this guy for a few more hours. I'll discharge him in 24, if you like."

"Sounds good."

Ian checked the monitors and the charts and left again.

"What are those things on my chest, James?" Diego had only just realised that there were things on his chest, and his hand moved to remove them.

"They're important. Don't take them off," James said. "See that thing over to your right?"

Diego glanced over at the monitor. "There's a moving line. How does that work?"

"I have no idea," James said with a shrug. "It measures your heart beat."

"Why?"

"Doctors can help if your heart goes out of rhythm, or stops…" Diego's eyes were terrified for a moment, before he took a breath to think about the concept.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"You play with life and death?"

"If we can save someone? Why not?"

Diego was glancing at the floor. "Did you have to restart my heart?"

"No. You were only shot in the chest. Ian repaired the damage, and we gave you blood transfusions to compensate the loss of blood. There is no chance for infections, as everything in the hospital is completely sterilised."

"Sterilised?"

"Germs travel…Do you know about germs?"

Diego shook his head.

James sighed, and chuckled. "Medicine has come a long way. You are perfectly safe in this hospital, Diego. I will get you a private room, and bunk down on a folding bed. I won't leave you for a second."

"You are doing a lot for me."

"I'm a doctor. I take my job seriously. Besides, you're family…"

"I suppose I am," Diego murmured. "James," he said softly. James could hear fear in his voice.

"What is it?" James was wondering what he had to explain this time. He had covered history, ethics, and goodness knows else. What else was there?

"How do I get back home?"