"Good, very good," his opponent commented, grinning. "I did not know you could fight so well as don Diego."

"I rarely get to. I must say it's easier without the mask." He feinted left, blocking his opponent yet again, then executed a maneuver he'd learned long before he'd become Zorro. It nearly worked, though his opponent managed to leap to the right just in time, avoiding his blade by scant inches.

"You are quite talented with the blade, Señor. You could make a respectable living as a swordsman, I believe, if--" his opponent feinted left, then right, then with a quick twist nearly got through his defenses. He parried the blow just in time, driving forward with a rapid flurry of strokes.

"If?" He grinned, savoring the adrenaline rush of danger mixed with pure enjoyment. He'd nearly forgotten the sensation, though it was one he'd formerly associated with fencing...before he'd become Zorro.

"If you did not have more pressing commitments." His opponent swept in, his sword singing with a chiming clash as their blades met repeatedly, thrust-parry-parry-parry, thrust-parry-parry.

Sweat had begun to drip down his forehead, and he absently wiped his eyes with his left wrist even as he parried his opponent's blows.

"Being the lazy son don Diego has made you tire easily perhaps?" His opponent laughed.

"Who’s tired?" He drew a deep breath and pushed forward, forcing his opponent to step back, then back again. Finally, in a move he'd only used once before as it was far too dangerous for the work he'd chosen, he slid his blade under his opponent's and twisted, causing his opponent's blade to turn up and inward until his opponent had no choice but to let go of it or be blinded by his own sword.

"Well done!" his opponent shouted, releasing the sword and letting it clatter to the floor.

He bowed, lowering his own blade. "You are the best I have ever fought against," he admitted. "Thank you for the privilege."

His opponent bowed in return. Gracefully he picked up his sword and sheathed it. "It is seldom I get such an opportunity, Señor. And now this game has ended, and you have won. But I must know, whom did I really duel against? Don Diego or Zorro?"

He started to laugh, the paused as his opponent's words sunk home. "I...I don't really know. A bit of both perhaps. Maybe neither..." More than anything that had happened so far, this question bothered him.

"It is difficult, is it not, this being more than one person? How does one learn to do it?"

"I have no idea." The words came out before he could stop them. "I wish I knew. Most of the time I try not to think about it, but sometimes...sometimes I wish I'd never chosen to be someone else...to take a name that others adore yet which is not truly me…and sometimes I think I've never had the chance to be just me. Not the legendary hero, not the good looking, wealthy young man, just...me. Just me. Sometimes I actually dislike being the hero, almost as much as I hate being the handsome rich fellow. I don't know what to do with the adulation, with being worshipped. It's so...so...

"Overwhelming?"

"Exactly." He laughed, relieved that this man at least understood what it meant to be divided within himself. "Sometimes it's just overwhelming."

"It is a lonely life indeed, that of being torn between hero and human. But I think you will find, in time, that you have always been a bit of both and more than either. And in the end, what you have done will be the stuff of legend, and it will continue to touch the hearts and stir the blood of others long after you have turned to dust."

He shook his head, not wanting to contemplate that unimaginable future. "Well, I hope that's a long time away. I'd like to be doing what I am doing for many years to come."

His opponent nodded in agreement, though his eyes seemed sad. "That would please many, no doubt. Still..."

"Still?" He felt a shiver go up his spine. Why did his opponent's words seem so ominous?

His opponent suddenly smiled, a grin of pure delight wiping away the sadness of a moment ago. "Well, Señor, enjoy what you have before you right now, and to the fullest, for others will surely find their own pleasure from your enjoyment!" With that, he nodded, and stepped back into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness from which he had come.

If his muscles had ached before his opponent had drawn swords against him, it was nothing to the way they burned now. Wearily he dropped down into the armchair once again, shifting himself in a futile effort to find a comfortable position (they really needed to make these chairs big enough to fit his height). Enjoy it to the fullest…good advice, he thought. Throwing an arm across his weary eyes, he relaxed, letting go of any remaining tension as sleep overcame him.

"Mr. Williams! Mr. Williams? Oh, there you are! Mr. Williams, please wake up, Mr. Foster wants you on Stage Three. They're ready to shoot the next scene!”

The actor opened tired eyes and stretched. “Boy, I really must have needed a nap. What a weird dream.” Smiling at the anxious young woman he added, “Norm’s bark is worse than his bite, but I’ll get right over there. Wouldn’t want you to get barked at.” Rising to his feet, he unclasped his hand and let the black knight he held drop onto the chair. Then he strode away into the shadows beyond the set, his boot steps gradually fading.

The script girl shook her head, muttering to herself. “He really is working too hard, falling asleep like that between scenes. And whatever did he do to that chessboard? The prop master’s not going to be happy about this, chess pieces scattered all over the set..."