Title:  Betrayal Amongst Friends

Author:  Joolz

Feedback:  to [email protected]

Website:  http://www.geocities.com/joolz4me/Storygateindex.html

Pairings:  B/J, B/A

Rating:  NC-17

Category:  PGP, angst, hurt/comfort, het, slash, first time

Summary:  After Gauda Prime Jenna finds that there is a rival for Blake’s affections.  How far will she go to keep her man, and is Avon up to the challenge?

 

Notes:  This is my first Blake’s 7 story.  Of course it’s a Post Gauda Prime  angst-fest, but what else would it be?  And sorry, there’s evil Jenna in this story.  I promise to write another one with good Jenna to make up for it!  ;-}

Unending thanks to Catspaw the super-beta.  Above and beyond on this one!

Disclaimer:  Not my lovely characters, just playing with them.

Warnings:  graphic m/f, m/m

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Unkindness may do much;

And his unkindness may defeat my life,

But never taint my love.

Shakespeare, Othello

 

 

 

 

BETRAYAL AMONGST FRIENDS

 

 

Blake’s head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool, but other than that there was surprisingly little sensation.  It was as though he were now a disembodied head, and a fuzzy one at that.  After vaguely contemplating the odd state of affairs, he made the effort to move to the next level - wondering why it should be so. 

 

The only immediate result of his exertion was to discover that he did in fact have a body, but that it was strangely numb; mere ghosts of sensation gave form to unresponsive limbs.  This didn’t answer his question, rather it lent more substance to the mystery.  It also added a small element of alarm.  There were very few reasons for being without sensation or mobility that boded well. 

 

Consciously pulling oxygen into his lungs, and thereby assuring himself that they were indeed still functioning, Blake forced his awareness to push up through the layers of cotton.  Sound and smell returned and with them the knowledge of where he was, at least in general terms.

 

Everything pointed toward him being in a medical bay, which suggested a partial answer to his confusion.  Apparently, he had been injured, but how?  The next step was fairly simple: to open his eyes.

 

Vision swam into focus under the soft lighting.  A nimbus of angelic gold was suspended over him, which clarified into a halo of hair surrounding a smiling face.  Blake whispered, “Jenna.”

 

The smile broadened.  “Roj, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to have a lie in. I would have disabled the alarm had you just asked.”

 

Blake smiled in return, glad to feel that he was starting to re-inhabit his body.  “Jenna, what happened?”

 

The woman’s glad expression faltered.  “You don’t remember?  Do you remember that Avon…”

 

Avon!  At the mention of the name memory flashed before his eyes, obliterating the immediate surroundings.

 

//Deva had just been remonstrating him for playing the dangerous game of bounty hunter.  His words had irritated Blake.  Yes, it was a risk and Blake was tired of it himself, but if everything worked out he might be able to give it up quite soon.  The feelings of doubt and insecurity that led him to test everyone he came into contact with would soon be laid to rest.  Avon was coming.  Avon was suspicious enough and careful enough, and astonishingly, protective enough to be a buffer that the rest of the world would have to surpass before threatening Roj Blake.  Blake would only have to fight the Federation and Avon.  Avon would fight everybody else.

 

The Liberator was gone as well as the Scorpio, so the conflict over who should own the ship was no longer relevant, and any remaining differences would work themselves out.  Blake was convinced that Avon didn’t hate him, no matter what had been said before Star One.  Upon reflection, he’d decided that the preponderance of Avon’s actions – saving his life on several occasions, reaching out a hand in unexpected support, sharing a joke and a laugh – outweighed the harsh words.  If he listened to Avon’s actions rather than his words, then they were friends.

 

Blake had put a lot of time and effort into bringing about this propitious reunion and a wave of renewed confidence washed through him in anticipation.

 

He stepped into the tracking gallery with the new girl by his side, and there at last was the man he had been waiting for.  Their eyes met.  Avon was in the centre of the room, his gun trained on Blake.  Behind him, Blake recognised Vila of course, and Tarrant, but the others were strangers to him.  Blake came down the stairs toward them.

 

The boy Tarrant asked, “Is it him?” and Blake wondered briefly if it was really that rebels were getting younger every year or if he was just getting old.

 

Villa confirmed, “It’s him.”

 

Tarrant said with some satisfaction, “He sold us, Avon.  All of us.  Even you.”

 

Avon stepped forward and asked, “Is it true?”  Despair distorted the usually well-modulated voice.

 

Blake finally moved past the elation of seeing Avon again to really look at him.  Avon didn’t seem well.  He appeared older.  There were lines on his face that weren’t there before, and he hadn’t known that Avon could look so haunted.  Blake felt a moment of uncertainty.  This wasn’t how he had expected it to happen.  He had expected Avon to be glad to see him, but the man before him looked anything but glad. 

 

Blake cajoled as he moved closer, “Come on, Avon.  It’s me, Blake.”

 

But Avon wasn’t listening.  Avon, controlled, unflappable Avon, desperately choked out the words, “Stand still.”

 

Blake froze, a sudden panic rising within him.  Something was wrong with Avon that he didn’t understand. 

 

He began to comprehend when he heard the anguish in Avon’s questions, “Have you betrayed us?  Have you betrayed me?”   Stars, Avon, of course not.  Of course he hadn’t betrayed them.  Avon couldn’t believe that!  The boy had said it, but he was obviously addled. 

 

Blake insisted, “Tarrant doesn’t understand.” 

 

Avon almost begged, “Neither do I.”

 

The expression on his friend’s face threw him off balance, but he could make Avon understand.  All he had to do was explain.  “I set all this up.”

 

As though he had accepted his betrayal, Avon breathed, “Yes.”

 

No, he must not believe that!  “Avon, I was waiting for you!”

 

Blake took another step forward, wanting to cut through the imprecision of language and shake sense into the other man.

 

But Avon raised his gun.

 

But Avon fired once.  And again.

 

The impacts stunned Blake and pain raced through his belly.  Moving on momentum and willpower he stepped closer.  This could not happen.  Not this. 

 

His eyes and Avon’s were locked.  Shocked emotion flickered across Avon’s face too fast for Blake to comprehend, but through their eyes their souls touched and ignited.  It was almost as if the hand acted independently from the mind when Avon fired again.

 

The pain was worse now.  Both the physical pain and the pain of having been wrong, so wrong.  He had misjudged something, and now they would both pay.  Even as weakness began to overtake him, Blake remained focussed on Avon’s face and aware of the growing disbelief and misery, almost fear, reflected there.  Why was this happening?  He couldn’t think well enough to make sense of it. 

 

Avon looked stricken, destroyed, broken.  It seemed like Avon began to understand.  Did he finally realise the truth?  Blake wanted to ask him so many things:  Why have you done this?  Was it destined by fate from the very beginning?  Don’t you know that I love you?  Can you forgive me?  Do you even want me to forgive you?  Damn you for not giving me a chance. 

 

Blake’s body had continued relentlessly forward without his realising, and finally he touched his friend, his assassin. He grabbed Avon’s arms with the strength remaining to him.  All Blake could manage was one word, through which he tried to convey what was in his heart.  “Avon.” 

 

The other man’s horrified face began to blur and Blake was aware of his knees buckling.  Light and sound began to swirl together as he tumbled to the floor.  Light was overcome by darkness, and sound by silence.  It was over.//

 

 

In the med bay Roj cried out, “No!” and tried to rise.  His body betrayed him by being too weak to achieve the simple task.  Betrayed?  Was he betrayed?  Or was it Avon who was betrayed?   He had to do something!  He had to make it right, make it like it never happened.  Straining to move caused pain to flood back into his body like a dam breaking.  Jenna’s voice tried to calm him and he heard and felt the whoosh of a hypo.  His limbs grew even heavier and his mind grew fuzzy, but the sense of urgency remained as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Jenna Stannis sighed as the tension ebbed from her lover’s body.  She glared ferociously at the doctor.  “I could just kill that bastard.”

 

Rav Holma, a jolly brown man of indeterminate age, tried to placate her with his professional manner.  “Now Jenna, it won’t help anything for you to become overwrought.  Roj is going to need you to be level-headed.  There’s a good girl.”

 

Jenna narrowed her eyes at the patronising tone, but rather than put the doctor in his place she chose to continue upon her chosen theme.  “You heard him, he said ‘Avon’, and ‘betrayed’.  It’s just as we thought.  He’s going to get what’s coming to him, I swear it.”

 

Holma shook his head and turned to adjust a dial on one of the monitoring panels.  “Just take it slowly.  There’s been enough death already without rushing about adding to it.  Our first priority must be to get Roj back on his feet.  He’s doing really quite well, and it won’t be long before he’s charging here and there giving orders.  Then we can all take a deep breath and think things through.”

 

Jenna let the subject drop.  Her own plans were slightly different from the doctor’s, but it was no use arguing about it.  She stood observing Blake as he slept, but her mind cycled round and round within her anger.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake’s next waking was more decorous.  He quickly recognised that he was at the main rebel base on Riga and remembered what had happened, finding that the pain had receded to manageable levels.  After a brief survey of the ceiling he turned his head.  Jenna was sitting in a chair studying a hand-held reader.  Above her bent head the lights of a mysterious medical machine blinked a merry amber and red pattern.

 

As he levered himself to lean on his elbows Jenna exclaimed, “Blake!”  She was at his side in a moment.

 

“I’m all right, Jenna.  Please, help me sit up.”

 

The woman scolded, “You’re not ready to be up and about just yet, you know,” but she braced his back as he pulled himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the medical bed.  The room swam briefly, but settled before he began to list. 

 

He took a breath.  “All right, what’s the situation?”  He could always count on Jenna to give a concise report.

 

She began, “Happily,” her face at odds with the word, “it appears that you’re going to live.  You were shot three times at close range.  If it weren’t for the shielding any one of those blasts would have killed you.  You’re a very lucky man.”

 

Blake nodded.  It hadn’t been the most pleasant thing to wear ballistic shielding that added weight and inches to his torso, but he had accepted the wisdom of it.  It would have been rather pointless to be shot down by another bounty hunter or an escaping outlaw.  He hadn’t expected it to have to protect him from his own friends.  Blake winced at the thought. 

 

“As it was,” Jenna continued, “some of the projectiles penetrated far enough to make a mess of you, but Holma has repaired and regenerated the damage.  He says you will just need rest to get your strength back.”

 

“And the others?”

 

She withheld nothing.  “Deva and Klyn are dead, along with several of the fighting force.  We got there just after the Federation troopers finished shooting down everyone in the gallery, but we held the base long enough to launch escape vehicles.  In the confusion most of us were able to dodge the pursuit ships and everyone we’re expecting has already made it here.”

 

Blake was almost overwhelmed by the information.  Yes, he wanted to know all that had happened and he grieved for Deva, but that frightening phrase pushed everything else out of focus.  Shooting down everyone in the room?

 

“Federation?  Jenna, tell me what happened!  Is Avon all right?”

 

She frowned and snapped, “What happened is that Avon betrayed and tried to kill you.  We don’t know yet if the Federation showing up just minutes after Avon was part of his plan or not, Vila insists not, but it hardly matters.  After Avon had a good go at blasting holes in you the troopers stormed in and stunned him and his crew.  One of Avon’s people is dead, the Mellanby girl, shot by your new recruit Arlen.  It turns out she was Federation all along.  She’s dead now, too.”

 

Blake felt fairly stunned himself.  He blurted, “Avon didn’t betray me.”

 

Jenna placed a comforting hand on his arm.  “Yes, Blake, he did.  I’m sorry.  We’ve all seen the recording.  We know what happened.  I admit that I didn’t expect anything quite so direct from him.”  Her expression hardened.  “That’s the last time I will underestimate that worthless coward.”

 

Blake shook his head to clear it. “Where is he?”

 

“He’s in another room here in the medical section.  He was injured more seriously than the others and hasn’t regained consciousness yet.  When he does, he’s not going anywhere until justice is done.  There’s a queue forming of those who want the honour of executing the traitor.”

 

Wishing Jenna would stop going on like that, he said, “I have to see him.”

 

“Not until Holma has cleared you.  You need to rest some more first.  I assure you that if you try to get off that bed now, once you’ve collapsed on the floor I’ll leave you there to be picked up by the orderly.”

 

Blake felt weak enough to consider that outcome all too likely.  “All right,” he conceded, “but you mentioned a recording.  I want to see it.”

 

Jenna’s brow creased with concern.  “Blake, I don’t think that’s a good idea.  You’re not strong enough yet.  It’s not pretty.”

 

He replied in a voice that brooked no opposition, “I want to see it now, Jenna.  Bring it to me.”

 

Frowning, she acquiesced, but insisted, “And then you’ll sleep some more.”

 

She picked up the reader that she had left on the chair and adjusted the settings.  She put it on the bed, guided Blake back so that he was lying down again, and then stroked his forehead gently.

 

Blake wasn’t really angry with Jenna, just with the situation, but he would prefer to face it alone.  “You don’t need to stay while I watch this.”  He smiled at the pretty woman hovering by his side.  “I promise I’ll rest afterward.”

 

Her expression relaxed in response.  “All right.  I need to stop by the command centre and make sure there are no signs of Federation patrols, anyway.  And Holma will be back soon.”

 

She bent forward to kiss him lightly on the lips, and the gesture of affection helped ease his distress even more.  With a fond look she moved gracefully through the door.  Appreciating the swing of her hips, he watched her go, then picked up the reader.

 

With trepidation he pressed the button to activate the recording, shifting to lie on his side.  The camera in the tracking gallery took in most of the room from a vantage point near the ceiling.  Tarrant stumbled in and tussled quite effectively with Klyn and a technician before being incapacitated by a blow to his injured ribs.  The boy fought as though pursued by hungry mutoids.  Blake’s deception had apparently been very good.  It occurred to him that the only ones who knew that, Deva and Arlen, were both dead.

 

Avon, Vila and the two girls rushed into the room from the opposite door and shot the technician.  They gathered round the wounded pilot and Avon said something.  The recording was picture only, which made it all seem very strange, as though blows and gunshots shouldn’t hurt as much if you couldn’t hear them. 

 

Klyn pulled herself up from the floor and around to speak into the communicator.  Blake watched in horror as Avon coolly stood, turned and shot the woman.  This was his own fault.  He should have let the other rebels know what he had planned for the arrival of Scorpio’s crew.  Klyn could have stayed down or reacted differently.  It was just as Deva had warned. 

 

Blake saw himself enter.  This time, in the recording, he looked more closely at Avon.   He watched the man break, literally into pieces, as they exchanged words.  In the background Avon’s people stared at him transfixed with silent dread, ready to leap forward but knowing that they couldn’t interfere.

 

Blake had to push the ‘suspend’ button as Avon fired the first time.  His body relived the moment with spasms of pain that made his stomach cramp with nausea.  Avon shot him.  Blake felt a flash of rage at the very concept.  Avon had shot him!  How could he have done it?  He pushed the thought aside and angrily pressed the ‘resume’ button.

 

His attention was quickly drawn back to Avon’s face as the tragedy played out.  Perhaps Blake had fallen in pain, but Avon’s distress as he stared down at the man at his feet bordered on ‘the end of the universe’.  It bordered on living death.

 

Things began happening very fast.  Deva came rushing in and he and Arlen exchanged words.  Then Arlen turned and shot him.  Blake gasped to see his friend fall.  At least it hadn’t been Avon’s fault this time.

 

The man in black stood indifferently as Arlen turned the gun on the others.  They threw their weapons to the floor.  Suddenly Vila scampered forward, veering around the terrible scene in the middle of the room.  Blake recognised his ‘I’m a fool, let me calm things down’ performance, but this time it didn’t work. The black woman, Mellanby, went for her gun and Arlen shot her in the chest.  Vila stared in shock, then lashed out at Arlen like a professional fighter.  Blake supposed that no matter how reluctant, after four years with the rebellion he may have become one.

 

Blake quickly hit ‘suspend’ again as a shot came out of nowhere and took Vila.  He gulped breath and reminded himself that Jenna had said that Vila was alive.

 

As the action continued, Avon stood like a statue, unresponsive to the shots ringing out around him as Federation troopers flooded into the room.  The blonde girl fired, then fell herself.  Tarrant fought desperately.  Blake could see his mouth form a shout, ‘Avon!’  Then he went down as well.  Avon never moved.

 

Then the trance seemed to break and Avon calmly turned to survey the room.  Everyone lay apparently dead except himself and the dozen troopers surrounding him.  They moved in on him as though he were death itself, circling him cautiously.  Avon watched them without reaction.  Then he looked down at Blake and stepped to straddle his body.  Possessively?  Protectively?  Avon believed he was about to die and took his last stand with Blake. 

 

As Avon looked down at the Blake lying on the floor, the Blake watching the scene unfold saw that he was saying a silent goodbye.  Blake, finally able to comprehend Avon properly, could read words in Avon’s eyes that had never been spoken aloud.  Regret hardly began to cover it.  Blake felt his heart breaking.

 

Almost in slow motion Avon raised his weapon toward the troopers, who stood as though hypnotised.  In the recording Blake could see Avon’s face clearly.  He saw Avon smile - daring, no, welcoming death to come and take him. 

 

Then the troopers fired, seemingly all at once.  Blasts hit Avon from every angle and he stood shaking as if suspended by marionette’s strings.  He balanced there for several seconds, the smile stretching to form a grimace of agony, then the shooting stopped.   Avon crumpled as though his strings had been cut, falling on top of Blake’s supine body, and was still.

 

The troopers stood looking at the two fallen men, then chaos returned.  Rebels rushed in, firing on the black-uniformed enemy until they too littered the floor of the small gallery.  Arlen tried to stand, firing at the rebels, but was cut down.

 

Blake recognised the flash of bright hair as Jenna darted into the room and toward the centrepiece of this killing field.  She knelt and grasped Avon’s arm, pushing him roughly over and onto the floor, where he sprawled face up.  Jenna and several others went into action around Blake, checking his life signs and assessing the damage.  Avon and the others lay unnoticed until the rebels began to move out.  Four men lifted Blake and carried him to the exit, then Jenna barked an order and motioned to Avon and his people. 

 

They were quickly checked and manhandled much less gently towards the door.  It seemed unthinkable to Blake that anyone could drag Avon that casually and live to tell about it.  He kept expecting Avon to roll to his feet and teach the man a lesson, but he hung limply from the man’s hands, head lolling.

 

Deva and Klyn were lifted and carried from the scene.  Blake was saddened to see that they left the Mellanby girl where she was.  That wasn’t right.  When the room was empty of all but the dead, the recording terminated.

 

After seeing the whole thing, Blake trembled with reaction.  He rubbed his face with his hands and concentrated on calming himself.  He realized that he wasn’t well, wasn’t strong yet, and that that was part of the reason he was so affected by the recording, but he didn’t have time for that.  Avon still needed him.

 

Blake forced himself to watch the recording again.  This time he saw it as Jenna and the others would see it.  They couldn’t hear the words, didn’t know the misunderstanding that was taking place.  They didn’t know Avon well enough to interpret his expressions and actions, not even Jenna.  Blake himself hadn’t been able to do so at first.  All they would see was Blake and Avon face off, and Avon shoot him in cold blood.  Only Blake understood that it had been far from cold.

 

He had to see Avon.  He had to find out what had happened to Vila and Tarrant and the blonde woman whose name he didn’t know.  His body seemed to have other plans, however, as fatigue stole his strength away.  Giving in, Blake curled around the reader and let sleep take him.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Vila paced the length of the sitting room of the suite that had become their cell.   He was aware that pacing wasn’t usually in his nature, but recently it seemed that everything was turned on its head.  First the terror of Malodaar, then the disaster on Gauda Prime.  Avon shooting Blake, the infiltrator shooting Dayna – Vila swallowed down the lump in his throat that that thought always brought.  Then waking up here with everybody looking at him sideways.  Jenna had explained that it was for their own security that he, Tarrant and Soolin must remain in these rooms, but Vila knew a locked door when he saw one.  He knew that the guards outside were as much to keep them in as to keep others out.

 

Tarrant was recovering and Soolin was fine, but Vila worried about Avon.  The sod had no right to expect Vila to worry about him, but there you go.  No one would tell them where or how he was.  The doctor had seemed nice enough when he tended to Tarrant, but he was obviously under orders to give out no information.  Did that mean that Avon was dead?  Or were they off somewhere pulling out his fingernails?  Vila tried to tell himself that their erstwhile leader deserved everything he got, but he couldn’t manage to put a lot of conviction into it.

 

 He knew that Avon hadn’t gone to Gauda Prime wanting to kill Blake.  He had been afraid of betrayal and then thought he had found it, but that wasn’t what he had wanted.  Well, he didn’t think it was.  Who could be sure with Avon?

 

Anyway, this sitting around waiting was upsetting his stomach and pacing seemed to help drain some of the tension away.  The fact that they knew Blake wasn’t dead after all also helped.  Mind you, he didn’t expect Blake to welcome them with open arms after what had happened.

 

Tarrant, sitting on a divan with his injured leg stretched out in front of him, snapped, “Vila, stop that.”

 

Excellent, since Tarrant had spoken first that gave Vila the opening to say what he wanted.  “You’re just out of sorts because you can only hobble.  Just remember you are not supreme commander.  I don’t have to do what you say.  I can pace if I want to.”

 

“Just go do it somewhere else.  It’s bad enough that you’re useless.  When you’re annoying as well it’s just too much.”

 

“Useless?  Who was it that disarmed that Federation officer, eh?  How’s that for useless?”

 

“If you had done it a few seconds sooner, maybe Dayna would still be alive. Did you think of that?”

 

That hit hard.  That deserved the retaliation of reminding Tarrant that he had been wrong about Blake, and all this was his fault as a result.

 

He opened his mouth, but Soolin’s stern voice overrode him.

 

“Enough!  If you two start that again I’ll use you for target practice, and don’t think I won’t.”  She glared at them from where she was curled in a chair reading a book-slate.  She was taking the whole thing remarkably calmly.

 

Vila subsided.  While he didn’t think that Soolin would shot him, she did know several ways to hurt a man that didn’t leave a bruise.  Best not to provoke her. 

 

The woman continued drily, “Fighting may be a means of stress relief, but it won’t bring Dayna back or get us out of here any faster.  We have to wait, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t make the atmosphere any more disagreeable.”

 

Vila whined,  “But how long are we going to have to wait?  What’s going to happen to us?”

 

“We will wait here quietly, not drawing attention to ourselves, until Avon and Blake work this whole thing out.”

 

Vila pressed, “What makes you think Avon is still alive?”

 

“Because,” she explained patiently, “I get the impression that if he were dead these people would be very happy to gloat about it.  We were all shot with Federation stun weapons.  There’s no reason to think it was any different with Avon.  We just have to wait until he and Blake can sit down and have a nice friendly chat.”

 

Tarrant pitched in, “And what if Avon and Blake don’t work it out?”

 

That was a good question.  Vila had been about to ask it himself.

 

“Well, in that case we’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

 

Vila sat down.  There wasn’t really an answer to that, was there?

 

~~+~~

 

 

Roj kept one hand on the wall as he made his way down the hall.  He was feeling much better, but having something solid to lean on just in case was very welcome.  He could hardly go two metres without being stopped by someone wanting to wish him well and it was taking a lot of energy to be cheerful and friendly.

 

He nodded to the guards outside the ‘guest’ suite as the door slid open, then ordered them to stay put when they moved to follow him in.  Three faces turned to stare at him.  Vila stood on the other side of the room with a glass in his hand; water, not soma.  He looked startled, definitely.  Both apprehensive and glad, perhaps. 

 

The thief squeaked, “Blake?”

 

Blake suddenly realised how glad he was to see Vila.  There was something about the original crew of the Liberator that made him feel whole.  That was probably part of his attraction to Jenna.  He had good people with him now, but they tended toward hero-worship.  His first group of companions, if not followers, had always spoken their minds and kept him on his toes.  He felt a connection to them that an entire rebel army couldn’t replace.

 

Blake opened his arms and said warmly, “Vila!  It’s good to see you.”

 

The other man’s face lit up with relief.  He dropped his glass onto a table and crept forward cautiously until Blake could grab him and wrap him in a bear hug.  When Vila returned the embrace there was only slight discomfort in his belly, but Vila seemed to suddenly remember the gore and pushed back to hold Blake at arms length.

 

“Blake, are you all right?  Have you seen Avon?  Blake, where have you been these last two years?  We looked everywhere for you.  What happened to your face?”  His excitement dimmed.  “Cally’s dead, you know.  And so is Dayna, but you never met her.”

 

Blake answered sadly, “Yes, I heard about Cally.  And I’m sorry about your friend.  Where I’ve been and what happened,” he fingered the scar that he sometimes forgot was there, “is a long story.  It’s Avon that I’ve come about.”

 

Vila wrapped an arm around Blake as though he were an invalid and ushered him into the room.  He introduced the two people who stood waiting.  “This is Tarrant.  You already knew that I guess.  And this is Soolin.”

 

Blake nodded to the woman and then faced the man.  “Tarrant.”

 

The young pilot’s chin lifted defiantly.  “I hope you’re not going to be playing any games this time, Blake.  It didn’t work out very well before, did it?”

 

He couldn’t really blame the boy for being angry.  “No, you’re right about that.  I felt I needed to do it at the time, but I do apologise.  Perhaps we can start over.”

 

Tarrant looked somewhat mollified, but suddenly asked, “Is Avon dead?”

 

“No, no.  Let’s sit down.”  Blake lowered himself gratefully onto a couch and the others settled around him, watching him expectantly.

 

He began, “Avon’s going to be all right.  He’s still in medical.  Our doctor, Rav Holma, I think you met him?”  The others nodded.  “He says that Avon suffered deep-tissue and organ damage due to simultaneous and sustained stun blasts.  You have to give him credit, Avon doesn’t go down easily.”

 

Vila mumbled, “Tough, mean bastard, that’s for sure,” but his complaint sounded automatic.  His expression betrayed that he was avid for more information.

 

Blake continued, “Holma has been treating him and apparently he’s well on the mend, but he’s also been keeping Avon sedated.  Maybe you noticed that some of my people are feeling a tad hostile toward Avon just now.”  They nodded again.  “The doctor thought it safest to keep him quiet.”

 

Soolin spoke for the first time.  “We would like to see him.”

 

“Yes, you will.  That’s why I’m here.”  He stopped, not knowing quite how to say this.

 

Vila encouraged, “What is it, Blake?”

 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Blake answered, “Well.  The doctor’s going to wake him up and I plan to be there.  There probably shouldn’t be a crowd, we don’t know how Avon is going to react, but Vila?”  He turned to the thief.  “I was wondering if you would come with me.”  There, he’d admitted it.  Admitted that he was afraid to face Avon alone.

 

Vila was studying his face carefully.  “And what are you going to say to him?  Are you angry with him?”

 

“Yes.  No.  I don’t know, Vila.  I know that it was all a mistake, but he did shoot me.  I need to know why.  I feel that if I can only talk to him, we’ll be able to sort this whole thing out.”

 

The two men glanced at Soolin, who smiled enigmatically.

 

Blake hurried on.  “I’m sorry about you being held in confinement, but after everything that happened, my people couldn’t take any chances.  They need to have the full story, but I’m the only one from whom they’ll accept it.”

 

The woman prompted quietly, “And you want Vila to be there.”

 

“Yes.  When Avon wakes up the last thing he’s going to remember is that he killed me.  I think it would be a good idea to have someone there that he trusts.”

 

Vila looked down at the floor.  “Of course I’ll go, but I wouldn’t count on trust.”

 

Blake insisted, “He was always closer to you than anyone, Vila.  Who better?”

 

Vila just looked miserable.  Something must have happened.  He would find out later.

 

Tarrant spoke.  “I never thought I would feel concern for Avon, but I hope you’ll go easy on him, Blake.  He… he hasn’t been well lately.  He’s been behaving erratically.”

 

Soolin snorted. “To say the least.”

 

The young man went on, “I’m afraid that Gauda Prime, well,  just go easy on him.”

 

Blake was touched by Tarrant’s concern for Avon.  “I will.  I don’t know if you can understand this, but the whole thing really was because I needed Avon at my side again.  It seems that he may not want to be there, but I have to try.  As unpleasant and infuriating as he can be, there’s no substitute for Avon.  I’ll do whatever I have to to get him back.”

 

~~+~~

 

 

The doctor looked up and smiled as Vila and Blake walked into Avon’s room.  Neither man returned the smile.  Vila was hiding behind Blake, who turned and glared at him.  Vila was sure that Blake had intended to hide behind him.  He could think again.  These blasted Alphas weren’t putting him in the middle.  He was too young to die.

 

Holma beckoned them forward. “Come in, come in.  We’re ready to get started here.”

 

Vila could see Avon lying unconscious on the med-bed, dressed in a light grey patient’s tunic and trousers.  He looked, well, unconscious.  He was pale and still, but not visibly injured.  Vila felt surprising relief to notice the monitors indicating life signs.  Whatever else you could say, it was true that the universe would be a less interesting place without Avon.  What was that ancient curse?  ‘May you live in interesting times.’  Right.

 

Blake appeared rather pale himself, though he never took his eyes off  Avon’s face.  Blake looked better than he had on Gauda Prime - shaved, groomed, and somehow a stone lighter - but tense and anxious.  Vila realised that the rebel really was nervous about this meeting and moved forward so that his shoulder touched the larger man’s arm.  Blake glanced at him in gratitude, then asked, “How is he?”

 

The doctor chirped, “Oh, coming along nicely, I would say.  The internal damage was fairly severe, and though it is nearly all healed it will take his body some time to recover completely.  I would advise against upsetting him at this point.”

 

Blake grimaced.  “I should think some degree of upset is likely.”

 

“Well, do be careful.  I’m prepared to sedate him again if it becomes necessary.  Here we go, then!  A light stimulant to bring him round.”

 

The doctor held a hypo to Avon’s neck and activated it.

 

The three held their breaths waiting for something to happen.  At first there was no change in the motionless figure, then Avon gasped and opened his eyes.  As Blake leaned closer, Avon turned his gaze toward the motion and blinked to clear his vision. 

 

As Avon focused on Blake his eyes opened wide in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion.  He said drily, “So this is to be my torment.  Even in hell I am not to be free of you.”

 

Blake swallowed.  “You aren’t in hell, Avon.”

 

Avon’s smile made Vila’s blood run cold.  “Ah, but I am.”

 

“No, Avon.  I know this may be unexpected, but you’re not dead and neither am I.  You didn’t kill me.  I’m right here and I want to make things right between us.”

 

Avon looked at the ceiling.  “What a finely wrought ordeal the afterlife has arranged for me, to be trapped for eternity with a shade who is unaware of his own demise and desirous of meaningful conversation.  No doubt the apparition will return no matter how many times I banish it.”

 

Blake said softly, “I didn’t know that you believed in hell.”

 

“It would seem that hell believes in me.”  Bitterness dripped from every word.

 

 “Avon, please understand,” Blake begged, “I really am alive and so are you!  We’re at my main base, safe for the moment.”

 

Avon ignored him.

 

Now Vila leaned forward into Avon’s line of sight.  “It’s true, Avon!  You really didn’t kill him.  That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

 

Avon’s deep, brown eyes surveyed him sadly.  “You as well, Vila?  It is fitting that you should haunt me.  It is no more than I deserve for how I have wronged you, the only blameless soul among us.  Remain in league with the ghost of Blake if you will, I accept the penance.” 

 

Vila felt as though he had been punched in the gut.  That was as close as he was likely to get to an apology, but he found he didn’t want it.  Avon was scaring him. 

 

He hurried to reassure the other man, “It’s all right, eh?  What’s a little betrayal amongst friends?”  Blake looked at him sharply.  “I mean, bygones being bygones and all.  I haven’t had a chance to find the liquor supply here yet, but I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t you come along and we’ll have a look together?  We’ll share a nice cup just like the old days. What do you say?”

 

Tears swam in Avon’s expressive eyes, alarming Vila even further.  Avon whispered, melancholy straining his voice, “Oh, Vila.  Would that you were real.”

 

Blake reached out and placed a hand on Avon’s arm.

 

Lightning fast, Avon pulled away and sat straight up.  Now his eyes flashed and he spat in fury, “Do. Not. Touch. Me.  Since you have been specifically designed to be my most piercing torture, I may not be able to make you go away, but if you dare to touch me again not even the devil himself will stop me from tearing you limb from limb.”

 

The mortal threat in that visage made Vila suddenly fear that Avon would kill Blake all over again believing him to be an illusion.

 

Blake pulled back in dismay.  “Avon!”

 

The doctor chose that moment to intervene, stepping close to the side of the bed opposite Vila and Blake.  “Now, now.  Let’s all calm down, shall we?  Our patient needs his rest.”  He gripped Avon’s shoulders and pushed him firmly back onto the mattress. “Though you were injured, and I’m sure you can feel the after-effects, I assure you that you are indeed very much alive and likely to remain that way.  Just follow doctor’s orders and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

 

Avon sneered at the man, “Well, now.  The punishment is complete.  A cheerful medic.  I’m sure that you will inflict all manner of invasive treatments and procedures upon me, insisting that they are for my own good.  I admit that I never expected Beelzebub to have a sense of humour.  What next?  Will Servalan be joining us for tea?”

 

This was the first time that Holma had been exposed directly to Avon’s powerful personality and disconcerting sarcasm and he blanched slightly.  “Yes.  Well.  In any case why don’t you take a little nap?  That would be pleasant, wouldn’t it?”

 

Avon closed his eyes and muttered, his words slightly slurred with fatigue, “Why not?  Nightmares would be better than this.”  He was asleep within moments.

 

Vila let out a sigh of relief.  This wasn’t what he had been expecting at all.  He didn’t know whether to be glad that there had been no violence or to be worried for his friend’s precarious mental state.

 

Holma guided the two men to the door.  Blake looked drained and distressed and the doctor took a moment to manually check his pulse.

 

Vila had to ask, “Do you think he means it?  Does he really believe that we’re all dead?”

 

Blake nodded blankly.  “He seems to.  Rav, what do you think?”

 

“I think that your friend has been under a great deal of stress and has perhaps passed the point of endurance.  This delusion of being deceased may be a defence mechanism indicating that he is not yet ready to accept reality.  I recommend that you spend time with him.  Talk to him.  Reassure him.  It is likely that this stage of denial will pass.  Let him know that you value him and forgive any wrongs.”

 

Blake nodded again, now with a sense of purpose.  “Yes.  I won’t give up on him and I won’t let him hide.  If I can get over what happened then so can he.  It’s only a matter of time.”

 

Vila shuddered.  He wouldn’t want to put any credits on which of the two would hold out longer.  It could turn out to be a fight to the death.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Two nights later Jenna came to Blake’s bed.  As she dropped her robe and crawled in next to him, he smiled at her but seemed distracted.  He lay on his back with his hands behind his head looking at the ceiling.  She leaned on her elbow and looked at him.

 

“How are you feeling, Roj?”

 

“Oh, I’m fine.  It was slightly better today, if you can call it better.  Avon is still insisting on his afterlife theory, but he was a bit more responsive.  Condescending to entertain the ghosts, as it where.”

 

Jenna sighed internally.  Blake was fairly obsessed with Avon these days.  She really didn’t want to hear it.  It seemed to her like more of Avon’s manipulations to get what he wanted, which was apparently Blake’s undivided attention.  She began to lightly stroke the centre of his chest with her fingertips.

 

The man went on, “Tarrant and Soolin came to see him today, and that was interesting.  Tarrant seemed to be quite nervous around Avon, couldn’t think of anything to say to him.  My own theory is that for all Tarrant’s arrogant bluster, he rather had Avon on a pedestal.  It’s shaken him to see Avon so vulnerable.”

 

Jenna drew lazy circles on his chest, gradually moving her hand lower.

 

“Soolin, though, was marvellous.  She coolly asked him if he really thought that she was going to waste her time haunting him after she died.  Reminded him that there where quite a few people above him on her list of those meriting torment.  He actually laughed and conceded the point.  I thought we had a real breakthrough there.”

 

He shifted slightly as she stroked below his navel.

 

“Then Vila told him about Dayna and he shut down again.  Wouldn’t speak to anyone after that.  I thought Vila was going to cry.  Did I tell you that Rav says Avon’s brain chemistry is out of balance?”

 

“Yes, Blake, you told me.”  She began to flick his nipple with the tip of her tongue.

 

“He.  Um.  He says that Avon’s clinically depressed and perhaps has had a psychotic break.  He’s begun a medication that should help to level out the imbalance and make it easier to treat the symptoms.  That’s very encouraging.”

 

Jenna slid her hand lower to cup his testicles and roll them gently between her fingers.

 

Blake gasped and stiffened, in more ways than one.

 

“Jenna.”

 

“Yes, Blake.  I’m right here.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her and moved to cover her.  Looking down into her face, he inquired, “Should I understand that you’re in need of some attention?”

 

“How observant of you.”

 

He leaned down to kiss her and played a hand over her breast, waist and hip.  She felt quite pleased to have finally captured his interest.

 

He bent to suckle her breasts and pushed her legs apart with his knees.  Jenna stroked his head and back then dropped her hands to knead his waist.  Blake pulled back to rub the tip of his erection against her opening, savouring the anticipation.

 

He moaned, “Oh, Jenna,” as he entered her.  She watched his face as he thrust into her, first slowly and then with greater urgency.  His eyes closed and his head tilted back slightly in ecstasy.  She relished the feeling of being filled by him, of being joined so intimately.

 

As her own pleasure grew, Jenna moved with him enthusiastically.  The friction sent chills of desire through her and the tension began to build exponentially toward climax.  She cried out and shuddered as orgasm took her.

 

Blake clutched her body desperately as he continued to drive into her, and her encouraging smile was only partly post-coital bliss.  Mostly it was related to the satisfaction of having Blake need her like this.  Of being the one to invoke this personal passion, as opposed to the general passion of the crusader.  It was the security of knowing that no matter how preoccupied Blake might be with Avon these days, he was completely with her in the ways that really counted.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon simply sat and enjoyed the silence.  A brief respite no doubt intended to make the renewed ordeal more unbearable.  It was rare that he was left alone, there was almost always someone there.  Well, HE was almost always there, and usually someone else as well.  These moments of solitude brought him enormous relief from the strain of not giving in to the illusions.  At times they were so very convincing.

 

Every waking moment they were at him, cajoling and tempting him to believe their story.  Avon knew, however, that it was just part of the greater plot.  The moment he began to accept as true the idea that he might have survived, and HIM as well, the moment that he allowed them to touch him, the illusions would twist and warp.  They would howl and laugh and throw him back into the pit of despair, only to begin again.  He could just imagine how it would be.  ‘No, Avon.  This time we really are all right.  It was all a dream.’  He would not give them the satisfaction.

 

They were all very lifelike.  Except of course for the one they admitted was dead.  Odd that Dayna should be excluded from this morbid party.  Perhaps they intended to play upon his guilt at having led a girl barely out of childhood to a violent death.  They wrongly assumed that he had a conscience to be bothered.

 

It nagged at him, though, that he himself might have created the scenario.  Perhaps whatever power ruled this place had reached into his subconscious and extracted that which would hurt the most.  It would explain why Dayna’s demise had been added to the insupportable weight of Cally’s.  It would explain why HE was never far away.  The thought particularly concerned him because it would be very difficult to foil the plan if he had to trick himself.  He would always have to be one step ahead of himself, as it were.  It almost made him laugh.

 

If only the sleeping moments weren’t even worse.  It wasn’t the nightmares, he was quite accustomed to dealing with those, though the ones he had here were horrendous:  his error, the gun firing, HIS accusing face.  No, he was practiced at walling such images away where they couldn’t touch him.  What was unbearable were the other dreams.  The ones that gave him everything he had never even allowed himself to desire.  The ones where he was happy, loved and loving, radiating creative, erotic energy.  In those dreams he was surrounded by friends who cared for him.  And HIM.  All Avon had to do was to reach out and touch HIM to be flooded with fulfilment.  It made Avon sick to think about it.  Those dreams were evil.  Torturous.  He always awoke to the truth in the end.

 

The silence was disturbed when the door opened and Vila walked in.  One of the many annoying things about hell was that no one ever knocked.  The doctor had made a production of moving Avon to what were called ‘his own quarters’, as though he would feel safe anywhere.   As though he had any control over his own life.  Death.  Whatever.

 

Vila stood blinking at him with his kicked-puppy face.  Avon glared.  “Well?  What is it now, Vila?”

 

“Er, nothing.  No, yes, there is something.”  He straightened his shoulders and tried to look fierce.  “I came to say something to you.   I don’t know if it’s right or wrong.  I mean I don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

 

“As decisive as ever, I see.  Why don’t you come back when you’ve made up your mind, what little there is of it?”

 

Vila’s stance relaxed and he grinned.  “That’s the way to talk!”  Then he resumed his resolute posture.  “I mean the doc might have my head for this but I’m going to do it anyway.”  He took a step forward, Avon frowned at him, and he retreated to the other side of the room to perch on the edge of a chair.

 

“Look, Avon, I know what you’ve been through.  No one knows better than I do.  I was there for all of it, wasn’t I?  So I sympathize, I really do.  In a way I can’t blame you for going barmy.  I can see where it would have its attractions.  But that’s enough now.  It’s time for you to stop it.”

 

Vila nodded emphatically.  When Avon just stared at him he seemed to realise that more was required.  He stood up and pulled his chair over so that he was facing Avon from only a metre away. 

 

He leaned forward and continued earnestly, “Avon, what you’ve got to understand is that this isn’t just about you.  You aren’t the only one that been hurt.  We’ve all had a rough time of it lately and it would be really nice if you gave us all a break.”

 

Tension began to build in Avon’s stomach, but he didn’t visibly react.

 

“Look at me.  All I ever wanted was to settle down, make a dishonest living and have a quiet life.  But what did I get?  Four years of racing around the universe in grave peril having to be courageous.  Four years of seeing any chance of having that quiet life slip farther away.  Four years of watching friends die.  And here you are having a nervous breakdown.  It should’ve been me!  But seriously, I’ve lost too many friends, Avon.  Somehow, over the years you’ve become a friend of sorts.  There, I said it.  Go ahead and deny it, but I know it’s true.  You’re my friend and you’ve decided to die before you’re even dead.  It’s not fair!”

 

Avon stared in shock.  In his wildest dreams he could never have imagined Vila saying such things.  His subconscious must be on stimulants.

 

Vila went on.  “And it’s not just me!  You being like this affects everyone.  Tarrant’s going around like somebody pulled the rug out from under him.  He wants to walk away but has found out he can’t.  You’ve been through too much together.  I think by now part of his self-image involves who he is in relation to you.  When you go round the bend, where does that leave him?

 

“And Soolin.  They finally let us out of the room we were locked up in, and she’s getting to know people on the base, so she’s doing all right.  But you know she always liked, or at least respected, you.  She agreed to stay with us as a mercenary, she said, for pay, but it’s become more than that, hasn’t it?  She misses Dayna, but she’s ready to move on and she can’t.  She feels that she made a commitment to you that hasn’t been fulfilled.  While you’re here like this she can’t decide what to do next with her life.  She’s hanging in limbo and it’s your fault.

 

“Then there’s Blake.  This thing is destroying him, Avon.  He’s in charge of this whole base, more than 200 people.  He’s supposed to be leading a rebellion, doing something, taking action.  But he can’t.  All he can think about is you.  He spends all his time here with you, except when he absolutely can’t help it.  People are starting to talk.  He’s in danger of losing everything he built here because he cares so much for you.  And what do you do?  Whenever he’s here you flay the skin right off his body.  Why are you so cruel to him Avon?  Why?  I know he’s made mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve this. 

 

“I’m saying that whether you like it or not, what happens to you affects us.  I’m saying that you have a responsibility to us to stop playing this game.  Look, you’re a genius, right?  You always said so.  What I’m asking is for you to use that big brain of yours to think logically.  Is it more likely that this is all some elaborate illusion arranged for your benefit, or is it more likely that you survived Gauda Prime and just don’t want to face yourself?  I know you can work this through if you try.  Won’t you try, Avon?  For us?”  He begged, “Please?”

 

All the time Vila was talking the tension in Avon’s stomach had been growing and was now lodged firmly in his throat.  He couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t want to.  He wanted this vicious apparition to go away!

 

Avon stood and turned his back on Vila.  He walked to the far corner of the room and braced himself against the edge of a table, swallowing down his misery, fingers digging into the surface until his fingernails cracked.  The tension moved up his throat and into his head, blocking his breath.  The blood rushing in his ears was all he could hear as the wall before him faded into darkness.  He fell.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake, Tarrant, and Soolin clustered in the hall outside Avon’s door while Vila cowered against the wall trying to look invisible.  Eventually Rav Holma came out and closed the door behind him.  As questions began to fire at him, he held up a hand for silence.

 

“Avon appears to be fine.  He’s sleeping now.  Unless there’s something going on that I don’t know about, I would rather not move him back to the med unit.  Would somebody like to tell me what happened?”

 

The three turned to glare at Vila.

 

“What?  I didn’t do anything!”

 

Blake rumbled, “Then why the emergency call for help claiming that you had killed Avon?”

 

“Well, I didn’t do anything.  Hardly anything.  It was hardly anything at all.”  He shifted nervously.  “I didn’t mean any harm.  I was just talking to him.”  He faced the doctor.  “You said to talk to him, didn’t you?”

 

Tarrant demanded, “Talking about what, Vila?”

 

“I was just encouraging him to stop playing dead.  I was talking to him about how the whole thing affects the rest of us, how hard it is for us.  I didn’t know he was going to have some kind of seizure and drop into a coma, did I?”  He suddenly looked miserable rather than defensive.  “You’re sure I didn’t kill him?”

 

The doctor placed an arm around Vila’s shoulder.  “I shouldn’t worry too much about it.  I believe he just fainted.”

 

Tarrant scoffed, “Fainted?  Avon?  That seems unlikely.”

 

Holma answered, “Passed out, then, if that sounds more masculine.  The physiology is the same.  The human body may react to an event that it can’t cope with by shutting down temporarily.  It is a survival mechanism.”

 

Vila frowned.  “I thought I could reason with him, get him to come back to us.  Does this mean that he’s so sick he’ll never get well?”

 

“Let me put it this way.  Avon is ill in the sense that he isn’t pretending that we are an illusion, he really believes it.  It isn’t a matter of telling him to snap out of it, because it isn’t voluntary.  That doesn’t mean that he won’t come around sooner or later.  He may not have been able to hear what you were saying now, Vila, but it may do some good in the long run.  We’ll have to wait and see.”

 

Blake, who had been chewing on a finger while he listened, asked, “Isn’t there something else we can do?  Some procedure or treatment that will break through to him?”

 

“Despite what the psycho-manipulators might lead you to believe, the human mind remains largely a mystery.  We can create conditions conducive to healing, like the medication regime that Avon is on, and we can try to help him, but much will depend on him.  The average human brain is thousands of times more complex than the most sophisticated computer, and Avon’s brain is far from average.”

 

Blake prompted, “You mentioned the psycho-manipulators.  Is there anything they could do for him?”  The others looked at him aghast.

 

Soolin protested, “Surely you aren’t suggesting turning him over to a puppeteer?”

 

“No, not at all.  It’s only that I know all too well how effective their techniques can be.”

 

Holma nodded, “That’s true, Blake.  With drug therapy and electronic manipulations they can create memories, beliefs, behaviours that weren’t there before.  They could make Avon believe that we are real.  But I’m assuming that you want him back, not the person that they would create.”

 

Blake agreed, “Of course.”

 

“Then we’ll have to do it the hard way.  It will take more time to achieve a less certain outcome, but it may yet work.  We’ll have to try different things, such as Vila did today by speaking hard truths to him, and there may be setbacks.  As I understand it, Avon didn’t arrive at this state overnight, and healing won’t happen that quickly, either.”

 

Vila relaxed and smiled, “Then I haven’t ruined everything?”

 

Holma patted his back.  “No, Vila, you did a brave thing.  It is difficult to deal with someone you love when they are in that much pain.”

 

They all shifted and looked away, unable to admit to feeling love for Avon.  After a moment Blake said, “I want to see him.”

 

The doctor shook his head.  “He will probably sleep the night.  I’d prefer you get some rest and come back tomorrow.  I’ll stay in case he needs anything.”

 

Blake stepped forward and grasped the doctor’s shoulders.  “You are a good friend, Rav.  Thank you for taking care of Avon.”

 

Holma bowed his head.  “That’s quite all right.”  As he watched the others disperse he whispered, “I know how much you need him.”

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake and Avon each sat in a chair angled slightly so that they couldn’t see the other when looking forward.  Avon asked the air in front of him casually, “So, for amusement’s sake, say that you are Blake.  Where have you been?  Why didn’t you return to the Liberator?  I would like to hear your answer to that.”

 

Blake sighed.  “You don’t half ask difficult questions, do you?  Well, I do owe you an explanation, and I knew that I would have to give it sometime.”  He fell silent for a few minutes, then began.

 

“I was going to come back to the Liberator at first, it didn’t occur to me not to.  But I was injured and was being ferried about with no control over my destination.  By the time I was up to it, I couldn’t raise Zen on the teleport bracelet.  It was a miracle that I was in range as long as I was, really.  That’s when I started thinking.  I remembered what it was like before Star One, how much you seemed to hate me.”  He paused as if expecting a denial that didn’t come.  “If you want the truth I stayed away because of you.”

 

When there was still no response he went on.  “Not that I blamed you for anything.  You hated me and you had reason to, so I believed.  I know that I wasn’t acting in a very reasonable manner toward the end.  I was taking you from one dangerous situation to another without thinking.  No, it was right for you to want rid of me. 

 

“But after Star One, that rationale wasn’t really what made my mind up.  I’m afraid it was another purely emotional decision.  I,” he took a breath and continued, ”I simply couldn’t face you.  It hurt too much to think that you truly hated me and I believed that there was nothing I could do about it.  I couldn’t stand to see derision in your eyes.  Imagining it was bad enough.  So I decided to go my own way.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t give a thought to the others, only to you.”

 

Avon said quietly, “I… didn’t hate you so very much.”

 

“No, I know.  I didn’t realise that until much later, however.  I gave it a great deal of thought and began to remember other things.  Like the way you risked your life to save mine when those power cables became animate, and other times when you went out of your way to protect me.  I remembered how your eyes used to flash when you were arguing with me, and looked past the anger to see the concern underlying it.  I realised that the hurt I felt at your words blinded me to what else might be going on.  You say things sometimes, horrible, biting things, that I think you regret later.”

 

Avon brooded, “I often mean them.”

 

Blake smiled weakly.  “Yes, sometimes you do.  But not always.  I eventually realised that you had continually shown some degree of regard for my safety, not just for your own.  I decided that you might not be so completely opposed to my return as I had thought.  That was an important insight.  It’s odd how I could understand you better from a distance than I ever could when we were together.”  Blake chuckled briefly.  “Just like it’s easier to say these things now that  you think me an apparition and I’m not looking at you.”

 

“You are assuming that your reasoning was correct.”

 

“Yes, and I still do.”

 

“Then why did you not contact us after this grand revelation?”

 

“Things had become complicated.”  Blake fiddled with the hem of his tunic.  “I wasn’t doing well at first.  I contacted rebel groups, maintaining my anonymity where I could, trying to organise support.  I had some spectacular failures, one of which earned me this.”  He fingered his ruined eye.

 

Avon knew what he was talking about without looking and ordered, “Tell me.”

 

With another sigh Blake recounted the story. “I was on a planet to meet some potential recruits.  This was about seven months after Star One and I was beginning to gather people and resources.  I went to the planet, called Yangtse, if I recall, in a small one-man ship I had acquired.  I was ambushed at the rendezvous point.  There were three of them but they were all smaller than I was and I managed to fight them off.  But not before being wounded myself. 

 

“Yangtse is a frontier world, and the medical facilities would have been minimal even if I could have called on them, which I couldn’t for fear of being recognised.  I had no backup, no one knew where I was, so I bandaged my eye as best I could and hid, waiting for an opportunity to get back to my ship without detection.”

 

The scene played out in Avon’s head like a vis-cast.  He imagined Blake, outnumbered, fighting for his life in a dark alley.  A knife flashing.  Blood and pain.  He imagined a dishevelled Blake wrapping a piece of dirty cloth around the wound and trying to conceal his large body in shadowy doorways, growing weaker by the hour.  It made him nauseous. 

 

Blake continued, unaware of the vivid drama accompanying his story.  “When I finally made it to a place where I could safely receive attention, they cured the infection and saved my vision, but I wouldn’t let them repair the scars.  Later Jenna begged me to do so, but I needed them as a reminder.  I needed to remember to be suspicious, not to trust anyone without proof.”  He grimaced.  “See where that has led me.”

 

Avon twisted around in his chair to look at Blake.  “You should have it fixed now.”

 

Blake turned to face at him.  “If you like.”

 

“Yes.”

 

They resumed their distanced postures and Avon commanded, “Go on.”

 

“It was nearly a year after Star One that Jenna found me.  I had begun to build this base and she simply showed up one day.  I had assumed that she was with you all that time.  We talked about contacting the Liberator then, but I had made other plans.”  He fidgeted again.  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you, I did, very much.”

 

Avon commented bitterly, “But you were just too busy to be bothered.”

 

“No, Avon, that wasn’t it.  I wanted to see you, but I wanted it to be different this time.  I wanted to have something of value to offer you.  I needed to meet you on an equal basis, not because I called and asked you to rescue me.  You had the Liberator.  You were making a name for yourself fighting the Federation.  I was a grubby rebel struggling to get though the day.  I wanted to be as successful as you were before we met again.”

 

Avon erupted, “Successful!  By no stretch of the imagination could it be said that I was successful!  I led the others from one debacle to the next, far surpassing any stupidity you had shown when on the Liberator.  It seemed that Servalan had some kind of psychic hold on me.  It is a large universe, but everywhere we went she was already there or appeared shortly after.  The only successes we had were occasionally foiling a plan of Servalan’s.  No, I too discovered betrayal, both committing it and falling victim to it.  I made bad decisions.  I lost the Liberator and I lost Cally.  I destroyed everything I touched.  I would hardly call that success.”

 

Blake said sympathetically, “It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose.  The Federation was afraid enough of you that they expended resources they could ill afford in your pursuit.  As you say, Servalan directed a large part of her attention toward you.  To me that appeared to be success.  In fact, by occupying so much of her attention, you allowed me to build my organization with little threat from her.  While she was chasing you, I developed this base and established outposts on Gauda Prime and other planets.  With your help I organized a rebel network capable of challenging the Federation, though you didn’t know it at the time.”

 

Avon snarled, “So you continued to use me for your own ends.  I was a fool to ever think that I was released from your control.”

 

“It didn’t seem that way to me, Avon.  I was proud of what you were accomplishing. I’m afraid, though, that I believed some rumours that I shouldn’t have.  I only saw your strengths.  It never occurred to me that what you were going through could be hurting you.  It was short-sighted of me, I know.  I’m sure you would have pointed out my errors had you been there.”

 

“Undoubtedly.”

 

“Anyhow, I built these bases, recruited hundreds.  I had one first class ship, called the Chance, and quite a few fighters, planet hoppers and freighters.  I finally felt ready to face you again.  I deliberately left clues for you to find, and just as I had hoped, you came to me.  Why is it that when in your presence I apparently lost any intelligence or maturity that I had worked so hard to gain?”  He sounded miserable.

 

Avon refused to be moved.  “That is quite a convincing story.  Well done.  Tell me another.”

 

Blake leaned forward and scrubbed his hands over his face.  Then he turned to Avon.  “Not today.  You’re telling yourself enough stories of your own.  You pretend to care nothing for me, but you are fooling only yourself.  I saw the recording, Avon.  I saw your face when you thought you had killed me.”

 

Avon frowned, facing Blake.  “The recording?”

 

Blake went on, “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes.  I’ve invested too much in you to let it go without a fight.  But I’m tired, Avon, really tired.  I don’t know what to do.  I’m afraid that I can’t do this without you and I can’t stop wishing that you would help me.  I am the fool you say I am, aren’t I?”  With that Blake stood and stormed from the room without looking back.

 

Avon stared after him, feeling uneasy and upset.  He began to review the conversation in his mind, considering the implications of what had been said. 

 

And he wondered, what recording?

 

~~+~~

 

 

The section heads of Blake’s revolutionary organization called him to an urgent meeting.  As much as he might want to, he couldn’t ignore the summons.  He wished that whatever it was they would just take care of it themselves.

 

Entering the meeting room, he found seven of his top people there, including Payton, the base administrator; Conzal, of communications; Inviernosa, chief of security; Dayvis, chief technician; and  Stannis, strategic advisor.  They looked serious to the point of dower.

 

Blake took a seat at the table.  “Good afternoon, everyone.  Would you like to tell me what is so important?”

 

The others looked at Dayvis, who had evidently been delegated to speak.  The athletic woman with greying red hair looked him in the eye.  “Blake, we have some serious concerns about what is going on on base.  Specifically, Avon and his crew.  And we are worried about you, Blake, and your standing within the organization.”

 

Blake kept a careful rein on his temper.  “Are you?” he asked coldly.  It must be serious if they were actually criticising him.

 

Payton, a bland, pasty-faced man who was smarter than he looked,  supported the woman’s statements. “People are still reeling from what happened on Gauda Prime, and they’re looking to you for leadership.  You’re spending too much time with the newcomers at the expense of your own people.  There are some who are uncomfortable with having them here at all.”

 

“Are there?”

 

Dayvis clarified, “Actually, Tarrant and Soolin seem to be fitting in, though Tarrant’s arrogance isn’t earning him many friends.  But Vila is a thief and Avon, well, we understand that he is ill but feelings are very strong against him.”

 

Blake observed them silently.  His reticence seemed to unnerve them.  He turned to his strategic advisor.  “And you, Jenna?”

 

“As they said, I have no difficulty with Tarrant or Soolin.  Tarrant even seems to be quite a talented pilot and we can use him.  And while Vila may not be terribly valuable, he is essentially harmless.  Avon, on the other hand, is a problem.  Not only because of the events on Gauda Prime, but because of his effect on you now.  You’re run down and preoccupied and you’re losing touch with your organization.  I’m concerned for you, Blake!  I ask you, what would Deva say?”

 

Blake answered, “Vila may be a thief, but need I remind you that all of us here are considered criminals.  Which of you would like your past judged by a committee?”

 

Conzal, burly and muscle-bound, objected, “Most of us are guilty only of opposing the Federation.”

 

“And the lives that have been lost as part of your opposition?  They don’t count because you are sure you are right?  Well, I can admit that I am a criminal, in the broad sense.  I am guilty of sabotage and murder, yet that doesn’t bother you.  Leave Vila alone.

 

“As for Deva, he was my friend and I mourn his loss, but the last thing I said to him was that no one is indispensable.  I was speaking about myself.  I’m not surprised that you don’t understand about Avon, I barely do myself, but I do know that I’m doing what I must right now.  You all are perfectly capable of managing without me.  Please do so.”

 

He stood, signalling the end of the discussion.  With a last look at the shocked faces before him, he turned and left the room.  He knew that he was being unfair, that they had valid grounds for concern regarding his own behaviour, but he couldn’t take care of everybody right now. 

 

He was late for dinner with Avon.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Jenna was boiling with anger.  She had just come from Roj, who was depressed and exhausted. That seemed to be his usual condition these days, and there was one person to blame.  She silently called Avon some of the more colourful names she had learned while a smuggler.

 

She stormed through his closed door without announcement.  The object of her ire was standing near the bed with his hands clasped behind his back, staring into space.  He looked at her with surprise.

 

She didn’t give him a chance to use his magnetism on her, but went directly on the attack.

 

“I won’t let you destroy Blake.  You tried to kill him on Gauda Prime and failing that you are trying to tear him down now.  You will not get away with it.  You may be surrounded by people who coddle you and indulge your pretence, but the rest of us know you for what you are.  We’ve all seen what happened on Gauda Prime and we won’t be taken in by this pitiful act.”

 

With a disarmingly bland expression, Avon asked, “Is there a recording of Gauda Prime?  May I see it?”

 

Startled, Jenna ignored him.  “I warn you, your time is almost up.  You won’t be allowed to hurt Blake again.”

 

Avon merely looked troubled, as though working on a difficult puzzle.  Damn him!  She whirled around and stalked out.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon thought about it for a few days, then decided that it was worth investigating.  Since he had shown no desire to leave his quarters, had in fact resisted the suggestion, no guard had been placed at his door.  He simply walked out of the room and proceeded boldly down the hall as though he knew where he was going.

 

He didn’t know, though.  He stopped a girl in her teens carrying a load of clean sheets and inquired as to the whereabouts of Blake’s quarters.  She obviously didn’t recognise him and cheerfully told him the way.

 

Avon stepped into Blake’s room and locked the door behind him.  His own living space was conspicuously missing a computer terminal, but he was right in guessing that Blake would have one close at hand.  His requests quickly produced the recording he was interested in.

 

Feeling only curiosity, as though about to read a highly recommended book, he began the tape.

 

The curiosity was fast replaced by a tightness in his chest.  It all happened just as he remembered it, down to the last detail.  And then some.  He watched in horror as Dayna, then Vila, Soolin and Tarrant were shot down.  He hadn’t been completely aware at the time, though he had known it was happening.  The nightmare continued until he himself was shot, then the scene changed.  Rebels overcame the Federation troops and carried his people out of the room. 

 

The verisimilitude was intensely disturbing,   He could feel all of it in his body, just as it happened the first time.  He felt the weight of the gun in his hand, could see the startled expression on Blake’s ravaged face.  He quietly expelled lunch from his stomach in Blake’s fresher unit and returned to the console.  He played the recording again, then set it on repeat loop. 

 

Every moment of it hit him like a physical blow.  He hated to see it, but couldn’t look away.  This was what had happened.  He could feel it.  Panic grew, slowing his thought processes, but not stopping them.  There was no proof that they were still alive when taken from the gallery, but somehow he knew that they had been.  It was all true.

 

Part of his mind screamed at him that no, it was another trick, but bubbling quietly underneath was the surety that it wasn’t.  Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.  He repeatedly pounded the desk with his fist as though the pain would erase reality, but a stronger part of him insisted on the truth, however ugly.  The internal screams of no, no, NO, grew louder and threatened to overwhelm him.  Avon gripped the computer console and struggled with all his might.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake cursed the man, and not for the first time.  He had gone to Avon’s quarters only to find them empty.  After confirming that the doctor hadn’t appropriated the tech for more tests, he set out to search.  Blake didn’t want to raise a general alert, fearing that his people might not be as restrained as he would like if they encountered Avon.

 

He stopped by the Scorpio crew’s suite to casually say hello and have a quick look before making excuses.  Vila raised his eyebrows at him but said nothing.

 

He checked the flyer bay and was relieved to find them all accounted for.  Blake headed back to his quarters to change his shirt, thinking that Avon might have gone directly outside.

 

Oddly, his door was locked.  He was sure it hadn’t been when he left. 

 

When he walked in, at first he wasn’t sure what was wrong.  Then he noticed Avon standing with his back pressed against the wall.  He hadn’t seen Avon look this wild since Gauda Prime.  As he stepped forward some motion on the computer screen caught his attention.  Gauda Prime – the recording.

 

He said cautiously, “Avon?”

 

The other man stared at him with horrified eyes.  He was visibly shaking.  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

 

The desolation in the voice terrified Blake. He stepped closer as Avon continued.

 

“It’s all true.  What you’ve said about being….  You and the others, and I, we’re all….”

 

Realization washed over him, followed by relief.  “Yes, Avon, it’s true.  We all survived.  Welcome back.”

 

Avon’s head tossed from side to side in negation.  He inched along the wall away from Blake.  “No.  It can’t be.  Please, no.”

 

Blake leapt forward as Avon began to slide down the wall towards the floor.  He caught the smaller man in his arms, shocked at the tremors that wracked Avon’s body. 

 

As he clasped Avon to his chest, the faint declarations of denial continued.

 

Blake murmured, “It’s all right, Avon.  It’s all right now.  You’re going to be fine.  We both will.  I’m here, Avon.  Hold onto me.  I won’t let you go.”

 

Strong arms snaked around his body to clutch at his back.  Avon pressed his face into Blake’s shoulder and gasped as though drowning.  He wasn’t crying, exactly; there were no tears.  He was trembling and fighting for breath, the vocalizations reduced to an occasional nasal mewl.

 

Blake held him and rocked him, saying anything just to let Avon hear his voice.  When the shaking finally diminished, Avon hung limply in his arms, exhausted beyond measure.  Blake continued to rock him, caressing his back comfortingly. 

 

“Thank you, Avon, thank you.  Everything’s going to be all right now, you’ll see.”

 

When Avon was deeply asleep Blake called Holma, then carried the patient to the medical unit.  The doctor arranged Avon on a bed, attached various sensors, and started a drip.  Fluids and nutrients only, he assured. 

 

Blake sank into a chair, his own fatigue catching up with him, and fell asleep before the doctor could insist he leave.  His last thoughts repeated the mantra of, ‘it’s going to be all right.’  He was starting to convince himself.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Vila sat on a medical bed and watched Blake.  The man couldn’t keep still.  He bounced from chair to display to patient and back again.  Vila knew he was worried that when Avon finally woke up he would have retreated into delusion again.

 

Avon had been asleep for eighteen hours.  Holma assured Blake several times, “It’s perfectly natural and in fact a positive sign.  Avon hasn’t had a restful sleep since he’s been here.  I think you’ll find him much improved when he wakes up.”

 

Blake would nod and return to his rounds.

 

Vila himself was sure that the worst had passed.  He just felt it.  He decided it was time to distract Blake before he gave himself a coronary.

 

“So, Blake, what have you got planned next?  I mean on the rabble rousing side of things.”

 

Blake looked at him as though he hadn’t realised Vila was there.  “What?”

 

“Well, you have this great set up here, you must be planning to do something with it.  What’s the next big mission?  I hope you won’t have need for a thief.”

 

Frowning, Blake chastised, “Vila, I have other things on my mind right now.  All that can wait.”

 

“Maybe you can wait, but what about the rest of ‘em?  I’ve noticed more than a few of the men getting a bit restless.  The girls, too.  I know it would do Tarrant and Soolin a world of good to shoot someone.  Never understood the attraction, myself.  Oh, I’ll do it if I have to but I don’t find it relaxing.  Is it in an Alpha thing, do you think?  ‘Cause we Deltas have other, far more pleasant ways of relaxing.  There was this one bloke, so big his shoulders could hardly fit through the door.  He did the most delicate needlepoint you can imagine.  My mum used to turn green with envy.  He…”

 

“Vila,” Blake interrupted.  “If you don’t stop talking I’ll shoot you myself.”

 

“Isn’t that just fine!  Here I am trying to…”

 

Vila was interrupted again, this time by a quiet, “No.”

 

Both he and Blake jumped and looked at Avon.  Brown eyes were observing them intently.

 

Blake shouted, “Avon!” and the man in question flinched.  Chastened, Blake continued more softly, “You’re awake.”

 

“Evidently.”

 

“How are you, Avon?  No, what?”

 

“I said, ‘No.’  Don’t shoot Vila.”

 

Blake grinned and affirmed, “Of course not.  I wouldn’t shoot Vila.  He’s too useful.”

 

Avon smiled back, “It just about makes up for his atrocious table manners.”

 

Vila was about to happily join in the banter when Avon’s face changed, like a dark cloud covering the sun.  The tech looked beseechingly at Blake, who leaned closer.

 

“It’s all right, Avon.  Really it is.”

 

Holma bustled into the room, brightening even more when he saw Avon awake.  “Ah, so there you are at last.  I was going to start charging you by the hour if you continued to use one of my beds just for sleeping.  They’re for sick people. ”

 

Avon stared at him with wide eyes.  Even though the instrumentation could tell him everything he wanted to know, the doctor laid a palm on Avon’s forehead.  “A bit cool.”  He checked some readings.  “It appears that you still have a touch of shock.  To be expected, I say.  You’ve been through quite an ordeal.  You just sleep as much as you can for the next couple of days.  Doctor’s orders.”

 

Eyes still large, Avon turned to Blake.  “He really does talk as much as Vila.  I wasn’t imagining that.”

 

“No, that’s true enough.  He may natter on, but he is usually right.  You should listen to him, not that you have any choice.  Rest, Avon, and everything will work out.”

 

Avon reached out suddenly and grasped Blake’s sleeve.  “You’ll be here?”

 

Blake visibly melted at the request and whispered, “Of course I’ll be here.”  He stroked the hair back off of Avon’s forehead.

 

Avon relaxed, looking more peaceful than he had in some time, and agreed, “Very well.”  He touched his own eyelid and said to Blake, “You had it fixed.”

 

“Yes, Rav did it this morning.  It didn’t take long.”

 

“Good.”

 

Vila grinned.  It looked like things were going to be very well indeed.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon was resting when Vila tapped on the door to his quarters and stuck his head in tentatively.  Avon nodded but couldn’t bear to look at the other man.  He didn’t know where to start.  Luckily, Vila took the initiative.

 

“So, Avon.  I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re better, and ask if you needed anything.”

 

Vila looked shy and hopeful.  Avon motioned him closer.  “Perhaps you would care for a game of chess.”

 

The thief brightened.  “Now there’s a good idea.”  He set the board up on a table.  When they sat facing each other, Vila continued.  “I haven’t had a good game in ages.  Orac is a tough opponent, but he lacks style, if you know what I mean.  You’re much more fun to play with.”

 

Avon looked at him with surprise.  “Orac?”

 

“Oh, didn’t you know?  They found Orac before the GP base was abandoned.  It was a lucky thing they opened that locker in the flyer bay when they did, but then, he was meant to be easy to retrieve in case of an emergency escape.”

 

Interesting.  “So Orac is here?  I had assumed it lost to the Federation.”

 

“Oh, no.  He’s his usual charming self and has a whole new group of admirers to browbeat.”

 

Avon corrected automatically, “It, not he.  I had enabled the disrupter circuit.  What happened?”

 

“Blake and Jenna convinced him,” he grinned provocatively at the use of pronoun, “to bypass your security.”

 

“Convinced him?”

 

“I guess Orac decided it would be more interesting to come back on line than sit in silence.  He knew the security was meant for the Federation, anyway.”

 

“Vila, Orac is a machine.  It doesn’t have free will to decide such a thing.”

 

“Tell that to Orac.  Or maybe your programming was faulty.”

 

Offended, Avon replied in clipped tones, “I hardly think that likely.  It’s possible the banging about knocked a screw loose, so to speak.”

 

Vila grinned, “Yeah, just like someone else I know.”

 

Chastened, Avon looked away.  “I, I’m sorry Vila.  For everything.”

 

Vila’s face softened in sympathy.  “I’m just glad to have you back to your usual obnoxious Alpha self.   Maybe we can just go on from here, eh?”

 

Avon felt uncomfortably emotional.  “I’d like that.”

 

They fell into a companionable silence as the game progressed.  A lot of history loomed over them, but for the moment it kept its distance, and they were just two friends meeting again after a long estrangement.  The past mattered less by the minute.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon improved rapidly over the next few days.  While his recovery was marked, he tended to withdraw when things became too much, which was fairly frequent.  In his embarrassment over what he considered a show of weakness, he began growling at people and was further annoyed when it only made them smile more widely.  In general, he was not terribly pleasant to be around.

 

Blake didn’t care.  He was openly happy to have his friend back in the same reality.  He was, however, uneasy.  There were things that still had not been dealt with between the two of them.  With that in mind he presented himself at Avon’s door with a bottle and two glasses in hand.  He buzzed and announced himself, waiting nervously for permission to enter.

 

Through the speaker Avon snarled, “Oh, come in!”

 

Blake straightened his shoulders and did.  He smiled at Avon, who scowled back.  So he was in one of those moods.

 

Blake cheerfully set the bottle on a table and motioned for Avon to join him. As he poured his host a drink Blake confided, “Rav wouldn’t approve, I’m sure, so let’s just not tell him.”

 

“Blake, you are all much too easily intimidated by that spurious physician.  You would drink snake oil if he told you to.”

 

“Do you mean to say that you wouldn’t hide that glass if he walked in the door right now?”

 

“Of course not.”  He thought for a moment, then went to engage the lock.

 

Blake smiled.  “That won’t help.  The doctor can override the lock any time he likes.”

 

He was treated to a feral grin from the other man.  “No he can’t.  I changed the codes.”

 

“Very clever.”  They fell silent.

 

Sipping his wine, Avon asked, “Well, get it over with.  Why are you here, and bearing alcohol?”

 

“Can’t I just be celebrating your recovery?”

 

Avon glared.

 

“No?  Well, it’s true there is something I wanted to talk to you about.  The wine can only help.”

 

Avon narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  “You want to talk?”

 

“Yes.”  He took a large swallow and refilled his glass and Avon’s.  “You asked me before why I didn’t return to the Liberator.  Now it’s my turn.  Why did you shoot me?”  Emotional shutters fell over Avon’s face, leaving it a blank mask.  It was as though he had left the room.  “Please, Avon.  I need to know.  You owe me an answer.”

 

The other man stared at him for a moment, then acquiesced, nodding.  “All right.  If you insist.”  He paused, the mask cracking as several difficult to distinguish emotions forced themselves through. 

 

Blake offered, “I wasn’t looking at you when I had to talk.  If you like I can go sit somewhere else.”

 

“The moons of Pluto, perhaps?”  Then Avon shook his head.  “No, stay there.  No more running away.”  Blake didn’t know which one of them Avon meant.

 

Avon continued, “Why did I shoot you?  I could say that I don’t know and it wouldn’t be far from the truth.  My memory of the event itself is somewhat unclear.  It seems almost as if I wasn’t shooting at you at all, but at myself.”

 

Blake humphed.  “Well, you’re a lousy shot.”

 

“Demonstrably.”  The lines around his eyes crinkled momentarily with wry humour.  Then, “I believed you had betrayed me.”  Now Avon did look away.  “It was the last straw, as it were.  I could not live with another betrayal.  So I pulled the trigger.  I was desperate.  My reasoning was flawed.  It was a mistake.”  He shrugged.

 

Blake nodded.  “All right.  Why did you pretend to hate me so much on the Liberator?”

 

Avon stopped breathing for a moment and blinked.  “Are you very sure this isn’t hell?  Being forced to answer such questions makes it seem so.”

 

“I’m sorry, Avon, but I have to know.  I have to understand what is between us if we are to move on.”

 

“Ah, are you sure you want to know?  You see, I did hate you.”

 

Blake gasped.  “You did?”

 

“Yes, and of course, no.  You were right, I did feel great concern for you.  I didn’t like it.”

 

Blake thought about that.  “It made you angry that you cared.”

 

Avon forced himself to respond, “Yes.”

 

“And you converted that anger to hatred so that you wouldn’t have to acknowledge either it or the concern.”

 

“If you already know the answers, then why do you ask the question?”

 

“Just trying to help.  That’s it, isn’t it?  You hated me because it was easier to deal with than caring.”

 

Avon conceded, “Perhaps.”

 

“You hated me very much.”

 

Avon didn’t answer.

 

“You must have cared very much.”

 

Now Avon did stand up and walk away from the table.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Avon stood with his back to Blake.  “Nowhere.  I need some distance from you.”  The last word dripped with venom.

 

“When you believed us to be instruments of torture devised by Satan, why was my presence the most painful?”

 

Avon warned, “Don’t, Blake.”

 

But Blake was determined to follow this to its end.  “And why did you hate it so much when I touched you?”

 

Avon spun around and spat, “You know why, damn you!  Because to admit to wanting something, even to myself, only leads to more pain.  Every weakness will be exploited.  Everyone I’ve ever cared for has turned against me in some way.  And I’ve never wanted anyone as much…”  He broke off, stunned and dismayed at what he had said.

 

Blake stood and walked to Avon, stopping when there were mere inches separating them.  He said, “I remember what it was like on the Liberator. I remember how it felt when you would stand this close while arguing with me.  Or how it felt when I would lean over your shoulder as you worked on an instrument.  I remember the electricity between us.  The tension that would grip my whole body.”  He was feeling it again, and by the dilation of Avon’s pupils he suspected the other man was too.  “You must have hated that very much.”

 

Avon breathed, “Oh, yes, I did.  Very much.”

 

“I was afraid of it, Avon.  Afraid you would despise me even more if you knew how I felt.  That’s why I left.”

 

They stared into each other’s eyes, the tension growing like a mosquito buzzing closer and closer to your ear.  Blake said, “I propose that we stop running.  It never did us much good anyway.”

 

Mesmerised, Avon prompted, “And you are suggesting?”

 

“That we try another tactic.”  He closed those final inches between them so that their chests met.  “Sometimes, surrender is the best defence.”

 

Blake lowered his head, touching his lips to Avon’s.  A fire of desire stronger than anything he had ever experienced raced through him.

 

Avon seemed to snap out of his reverie.  He stepped back suddenly.

 

“Well, now.  So you believe that sex will solve everything, do you?”

 

Blake tried to answer, “Not just sex..,” but Avon didn’t hear.

 

“All right, if that’s what you think best.  Take off your clothes.”

 

Stunned, Blake stared at him, speechless.

 

“Hurry up.  Take off you clothes.”  Blake began to undo his belt, but obviously wasn’t fast enough because Avon proceeded to help him.  In moments he was standing naked before the other man.

 

Avon guided him, not violently but forcefully, to the bed.  “Lay down on your back.”

 

As Blake did as he was told, Avon entered the fresher and returned with a pot of ointment.  He pushed Blake’s legs apart and knelt between them, freeing the erection from his own trousers.

 

“Is this what you want?  Is this the answer to everything?”

 

Blake was disturbed.  Yes, he wanted Avon, but this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.  “Avon,” he started.

 

But Avon levered his knees up, applied ointment to one finger, and began working it into Blake.  “If this is what you think we should do, then by all means.  After all, you are the one with all the answers.”  His eyes flashed, with desire but also with something less attractive.

 

“Avon wait.”

 

“Wait?  Haven’t we waited long enough?  Surely it would be unhealthy to delay any longer.  We wouldn’t want me to have a relapse in the meantime, would we?  Doctor’s orders.”  With that he placed the blunt tip of his penis against Blake’s anus and pushed.

 

Blake bit his lip to keep from crying out.  The pain was an unexpected shock, as was Avon’s lack of care. 

 

The still fully dressed man continued to shove, little by little, into Blake’s body, until he was fully encased.  Stunned, Blake looked up into Avon’s face, which was red and glistening with sweat.

 

Gasping, Avon snarled, “Is that what you wanted?  Well, now you have it.  Everything all better, then?”

 

Even though he was the one basically being assaulted, it was Avon’s pain that overwhelmed him.  He met and held Avon’s eyes and reached up to touch the handsome face.  He whispered a promise, “It will be.”

 

The anger dissipated from one moment to the next and Avon’s face contorted with anguish.  He collapsed listlessly onto Blake’s chest, silent tears running down his cheeks.

 

Since Avon seemed to have relinquished control of their joining, Blake angled his legs so that his calves held the other man in place and wrapped his arms around him.

 

Avon spoke into Blake’s neck, his voice desolate.  “I can’t, Blake.  You have to understand that I can’t.  I’m so afraid.  I can’t express the terror.  I would rather die, rather be tormented in hell for all eternity, than go through it again.”

 

“Shhh.  I told you everything was going to be all right, and it will.  I wouldn’t lie to you.  I love you, Avon.”  The other man’s body stiffened and Blake tightened his embrace.  “I won’t betray you, I swear it.  You don’t have to protect yourself with me.  There is no way for me to prove it to you except with time, so I’m asking you to give me that.”

 

Avon slid his arms around to hold Blake, who then knew that the other man had accepted, even if he could not say it.  Withdrawing his face from Blake’s neck, Avon almost whimpered, “I’m sorry, Blake.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”

 

“It’s all right.  We’ll be all right.”

 

Avon’s arousal had softened considerably since his collapse.  He moved to climb off, but Blake held him in place.  Avon protested, “I should…”

 

“Please, Avon.  I haven’t had a chance to enjoy you yet.”

 

Avon lifted his head and looked at him with astonishment.  “You really still want me?”

 

“Avon, you have no idea.  I think I’ve wanted you forever.  I never want to let you go.”

 

It was apparently a good thing to say because Avon relaxed against him in a way that could almost be said to be cuddly, and would have been more so if there were not a layer of clothing between them.  Blake began to stroke Avon, down the back, across the buttocks and hips, up the ribcage, running his fingers into the soft hair.  He steered Avon’s face to his own and they finally kissed in earnest; it was sweet and tentative at first, then growing with passion and intensity.

 

Under Blake’s ministrations Avon’s body began to respond again.  Blake moaned with pleasure as the bulk filling him began to move.  He was now relaxed and ready for Avon to love him, which the other man did with enthusiasm.  Neither of them lasted long, and soon Avon collapsed again, this time after reaching a different breaking point.

 

Blake manoeuvered Avon’s clothes from his body, shut off the light and drew a sheet up over them.  Pulling Avon close Blake peppered his face with kisses.

 

Avon protested, “Have pity, Blake.  I already agreed, we’ll do this your way.  No need to slobber all over me.”

 

“Indulge me.”

 

“If I must.” 

 

But Blake heard the smile in the words.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon’s brow was furrowed with consternation.  It wasn’t that he didn’t remember how this had come to pass, he just didn’t understand it.   It was utterly absurd.  Laughable in its unlikelihood.  He considered the possibility that he was, in fact, completely insane.

 

Avon lay on his side with Blake pressed closely behind him, the other man’s arm flung loosely over him, hand splayed flat against his chest.  Blake was still asleep, snoring and snuffling softly in Avon’s ear.  Avon shuddered slightly.  No, this was not easy to accept.

 

It wasn’t the sex.  That was easily enough explained.  Sex was a simple transaction in which both parties received pleasure, often one more than the other.  Sex was one way to define the relationship between two people, often in a context of power and control.  He was aware that some people did not find it so, but he himself had never successfully experienced a mutual, equal affiliation.  Sex was a basic, if sometimes regrettable, human urge from which not even he was immune.  He had felt and repressed desire for Blake almost from the beginning.  It wasn’t altogether surprising that the resistance had ultimately failed.

 

No, sex wasn’t the problem.  It was the other part of what had happened.  The emotional part.  The word made him cringe.  It appeared that he had in essence admitted to having strong feelings for Blake.  Blake himself had used the word love.  Avon admitted that he in fact felt something not unlike that, and it was entirely unacceptable.  Not in an old-fashioned moralistic sense, but in that it conflicted with his inherent personality characteristics.  Despite everything he had been through recently, his survival instincts were still functional and setting off alarms which resonated inside his scull.

 

It was as though he had given up something of great importance, without which he could not live.  It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what that was.  Of course, there was an issue of independence versus commitment, which wasn’t entirely easy to sort out, but that wasn’t quite the problem.  It felt as though he had entered a duel but refused to accept any weapon.  As though he had voluntarily walked off the edge of a cliff.  Avon never did such things without a reasonable back-up plan, but this time he had none.

 

That was it.  He had dropped all his defenses.  He now had no protection at all from Blake, nor from anything else, it seemed.  He had never tried to face the world with this kind of exposure and he had no doubt that vulnerability led to death, or worse.

 

Avon closed his eyes and tried to hold himself together while the familiar fear rocked through him.  He would have to turn it around again, that was the only option.  He would tell Blake, sorry, it was a momentary aberration.  He would rebuild his defences.  He could not possibly live with this fear.

 

As he was working himself up to climb out of the bed and walk away, Blake stirred behind him.  The hand on Avon’s chest began to lightly ruffle his chest hair while a nose rubbed back and forth across the nape of his neck.

 

Avon hated the desire that rose in him.  Not the sexual desire, but the other.  The overwhelming longing to be loved that permeated every cell of his body.  To be loved by this particular man, and to give himself over completely to the other’s dominion.  He cursed himself even as he melted under Blake’s touch.

 

Blake pressed closer to him and he felt the steely hardness of an erection pushing against his arse.  And oh, yes, he wanted that.  He wanted that so badly he could hardly breath. 

 

Blake thrust slowly, drawing his penis up and down the crack between Avon’s buttocks.  He used his leg to push one of Avon’s forward, exposing more of Avon’s most personal area.  Blake’s fingers brushed and teased his nipples as his mouth devoured Avon’s neck.  Avon reached down to clutch Blake’s thigh, allowing no ambiguity about his own wishes. 

 

Avon was completely aroused by this time and pushed back against Blake, wanting even more contact.  The larger man’s provocative hand left Avon’s chest and dropped to stimulate the sensitive sphincter. Avon groped desperately above his head until he found the pot of ointment wedged between the mattress and the headboard.  He pressed it urgently into Blake’s hand. 

 

Blake chuckled into the back of his neck, murmuring, “I want you, Avon.  I want all of you.”

 

Avon breathed, “Yes.”

 

Soon a slick finger was working its way into his body, caressing him inside, stroking his prostate.  Before long Blake’s sex followed and Avon welcomed the intrusion.  His lover entered him gently, then repositioned them so that he could wrap both arms around Avon’s torso and hold him still as he thrust deeply.  Avon sighed again, “Yes.”

 

Avon let Blake take him, revelling in every motion of their coupling.  Blake took hold of Avon’s penis and rocked his whole body, drawing him forward and back through the encircling fingers.  Blake kissed his neck and shoulder as he murmured endearments into an attentive ear, and Avon began to moan and writhe, his docility forgotten. 

 

The pleasure grew, and it was something that they were doing together.  Avon could never achieve this level of ecstasy alone, only in the arms of the one he loved.  This was what he gained from relinquishing his barriers. 

 

Orgasm shuddered through him, blocking out everything but bliss.  As their breathing returned to normal in the aftermath, Avon admitted that it was far too late to retreat, as he had planned.  For better or for worse, he would have to accept his new status as beloved of Blake, lover of Blake. 

 

The fear remained, not far below the surface, but he would learn to deal with it.  An intelligent man adapts, and a determined man holds on to what he needs.  He paid a high price to meet that need, with the recklessness of an addict, but the compensations would be ample.  He would not give up.  Avon walked into his new life with his eyes open, resolved to triumph one step at a time.  He would create the person he needed to be in order to love Roj, and he would cope with the unrelenting dread to the best of his ability.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake began to return to his duties, now with a shadow ever at his side.  Avon was still easily spooked and was uncomfortable when separated from Blake.  Blake hoped that with time his friend and now lover would regain his confidence, but for the time being he had no complaint with having Avon where he could see him.  The view was always most pleasant.

 

He proudly showed Avon around the base and introduced him to the various section heads.  People were civil and somewhat curious about the famous Avon, who was a popular topic of conversation.  They seemed surprised that he only had one head and no forked tail.  For his part, Blake felt alive just standing next to him.

 

In the control centre, several of his top aides had their heads together.   He strode over and asked bluntly, “What is it?”

 

Porter began, “We’ve received a message from..”

 

He was interrupted by Conzal, who cleared his throat and shook his head, glancing at Avon.

 

Porter exclaimed, “Oh,” and fell silent.

 

Impatient, Blake demanded, “Well?”

 

Conzal said, “Blake, could we speak to you in private?”  His glare made very clear who precisely was to be excluded from the conversation.

 

“Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Avon.  He has my complete trust.”

 

Several of them frowned, and Blake could understand that from their perspective it did seem improbable.  He was not going to let them prevail, however.  He snapped, “What exactly is the matter?”

 

Conzal looked him in the eye.  “Some of us don’t want Avon,” said with a snarl of disgust, “involved in the business of this base.  Some of us don’t want him here at all.”

 

Blake was preparing to shout the man through the floor when Avon cut him off.

 

“Would you care to name your grievances?”  He glanced warningly at Blake, who understood that Avon needed to handle this himself.  With difficulty he held his tongue.

 

Inviernosa, a handsome young man with dramatic dark hair and eyes, contributed, “To start with you tried to kill Blake.  That’s not something we can forgive.”

 

Avon nodded.  “Nor is it something I can easily forgive.  However, it is Blake, as the injured party, who should determine what punishment I deserve.  He,” an ironic smile flickered across his face, “in his bid to become Saint Roj, has seen fit to pardon me.  If he can do so then you must respect his decision.”

 

With a look of actual hatred, Conzal sneered, “There is one injured party who can’t pardon you, because she’s dead.  You murdered Klyn.  Some of us think you ought to pay for that.”

 

Avon seemed confused for a moment, then realization dawned.  “You mean the woman in the tracking gallery.”

 

Conzal insisted, “Klyn.  Her name was Bridge Klyn.”

 

Avon spoke quietly.  “I entered a base with little idea of what we would find there, friend or foe, and discovered a man beating one of my people.  Soolin shot that man.  He did not die?” 

 

Blake interjected, “No, he didn’t!”

 

“Good.  Under the circumstances, when I heard someone calling for security I perceived that person to be a threat.  I stopped her.  You would have done the same, and probably have.”

 

Conzal lunged at Avon and was barely restrained by his friends.  “That’s no excuse!  You killed her!”

 

“And I am sorry.  It was a misunderstanding.”  He observed Conzal closely.  “Did you love her?”

 

The other man didn’t answer in words, but his face told the story.

 

“Ah, you did.  Then I am doubly sorry and I understand your desire for revenge.”

 

Blake was still unsure what to expect from Avon and was alarmed.  “Avon!”

 

The tech turned to him.  “Don’t worry, Blake, I said that I understood, I didn’t say that I would cooperate.”  Facing Conzal again he continued, “You must decide what level of reparation you will accept, when you will consider that I have suffered enough.  You must take past circumstances into account, as well as present and future.  What will your vengeance cost you, and what will it cost others?”

 

Blake could keep quiet no more.  “And keep in mind that Avon is with me now.  Anyone who wants to harm him will have to go through me first.  We are all sorry about Klyn, but I need Avon at my side, and I will defend him with the same determination with which you would have defended Klyn, given the chance.  Remember that.”

 

Conzal glared, but he had regained control.  “Oh, yes, I will take all that into account before I act.”

 

Blake went on, “Just so that there is no further misunderstanding, I value all of you highly and would regret the loss of any of you, but Avon takes precedence.  You are to consider him to be my second in command.”

 

All those gathered frowned, and Avon chided softly, “Blake, you expect too much.”

 

“No.  I’m simply stating the facts.  Anyone who can’t accept that is free to leave at any time.  Look, I know it won’t be easy, but our movement has to be about rebuilding, not destruction.  When this battle is over, families, planets, systems will have been divided.  We must put aside our resentment to create a better future for everyone.  We must start here and now if we are to succeed.”  He looked at Conzal.  “I hope that you will be with me.”

 

The communications officer looked somewhat chastened.  “I will try, Blake.  I don’t know if I’m as good a man as you.”

 

Avon added, helpful as ever, “No one is.”

 

Blake looked around at all of them.  “My friends, it isn’t a matter of being good.  It’s a matter of trying to be good.  That’s all we can ask of ourselves and each other.”

 

He saw a gleam of hope in the other men’s eyes, even Avon’s, though he hid it the best.  He slapped Conzal on the back with one hand, and Avon with the other.  “Now, from whom did we receive a transmission?”

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon lay on top of Blake, twin erections pressed between their bodies.  He rocked his hips gently, slowly – a mere caress that brought them pleasure without driving them toward passion.  Their hands explored skin and hair with no goal other than to touch. Avon’s mouth hovered over Blake’s so that their breath mingled, and dropped down occasionally to nip at his lover’s lips. 

 

On one such dip, Blake opened his mouth in invitation and Avon traced the rim of that welcoming cavern with his tongue.  An initial surge from Blake’s body was aborted by the lassitude that held them suspended in a perfect balance.  Avon rewarded his restraint by delving more deeply.

 

The subtle intercourse, swaying them with a rhythm akin to a slow heartbeat, combined with the tactile and oral exchange, hypnotised them into a sensual merger of body and soul.  So deeply engrossed was Avon in this profound embrace that he almost didn’t hear the door to Blake’s quarters slide open and then closed.  Almost.

 

Without turning his head he reminded Blake, “You said that you locked the door.”

 

“I did.”

 

Then they both looked.  Jenna was standing just inside the doorway in a satin robe, staring at them.

 

Blake continued apologetically, “But the lock is programmed to allow Jenna to enter.”

 

“I see.”

 

The three were silent for a moment.  Jenna’s face betrayed her shock as she looked up and down the naked men’s entangled bodies.  There was no mistaking what they were doing.  Avon considered it a blessing that at least they hadn’t been actively engaged in penetrative sex.  A small blessing; the situation could hardly be very much worse.

 

Blake said, “Jenna,” and it broke the spell.  The woman took a step forward, her chest heaving with shock turned to anger.  Avon released Blake and slid toward the wall, where he sat up, pulling a sheet to cover his groin.  Blake sat on the edge of the bed, making no attempt to disguise his nudity.

 

Jenna began predictably, “I don’t believe this!  What are you…”  Well, that was so obvious there was no need to complete the question. 

 

Blake said, “I’m sorry, Jenna.  I didn’t intend for you to find out like this.”

 

Were they going to follow a banal vis-script throughout this unfortunate encounter?

 

“But Blake, I thought we were together!  I thought you cared about me!”

 

It seemed they were.

 

“Stars, Jenna, I do care about you.”  Blake stood, his semi-erect penis bobbing in front of him.  “I didn’t want to hurt you.  Nobody intended for this to happen, but Avon and I, well, this is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

 

The woman didn’t deign to even glace at Avon.  “Avon and you?  So tell me, Roj, how long has this been going on?  Since the Liberator?”

 

“Well, yes and no.”

 

Trust Blake to give an unclear answer in a hazardous situation.  Avon interjected, “Jenna, as you surely are aware, there has been an intense connection between Blake and myself from the very start.  In that sense only does it date back to the Liberator.  This,” he motioned toward the bed, “is quite a new development.  Barely a few days.”

 

She turned to Avon, eyes blazing.  “Don’t you speak to me!  You miserable bastard.”  She turned imploringly to Blake. “A few days?  Roj, this is just an experiment.  It’s a reaction to the stress you’ve been under lately.  You remember how good we are together.”  She moved toward him, pulling her robe open to expose her breasts.

 

Avon turned his head away, wishing he were anywhere else in the universe.  He had no great affection for Jenna, but neither did he have any desire to see her humiliated like this. 

 

Blake sighed, “Oh, Jenna.  We were good together, and I’m grateful for that time, but we were never in love and I think you know that.  I was going to tell you, it has to be over now.  What Avon and I have is important to me.”

 

Avon glanced over in time to see Jenna press against Blake and take his penis in her hand.  “Roj, let me…”

 

The man at the apex of the love triangle disengaged from her.  “No. We can talk about this later, but now you need to go.  I really am very sorry, Jenna.”

 

She pulled her robe closed, panting shallowly with anger and disbelief.  Then she visibly pulled herself together and straightened her shoulders.  She said quietly and coldly, “You’re going to regret this,” and marched stiffly to the door.

 

When she was gone, Blake climbed onto the bed and leaned against the wall next to Avon.  He said simply, “Damn.” 

 

Avon agreed, “Yes.”

 

“She thinks I was using her.”

 

“Were you?”

 

“No, of course not.  Well...  I really don’t know.”  Blake looked to him for understanding.  “Of course I always liked Jenna.  She was so supportive of me and my cause.  And she is very beautiful.  And very…”  He searched for the word.

 

Avon suggested, “Willing?”

 

Blake nodded and smiled self-deprecatingly.  “Yes, very willing.”  He gazed at the door sadly.  “In other words I used her.  I’ll have to apologise.  Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

 

“I don’t know, Blake.  She doesn’t strike me as an exceptionally forgiving person, and she has reason to be angry.”

 

Blake turned to him.  “And you?  Are  you angry with me?”

 

Avon grimaced.  “I am in no position to judge the morality of anyone’s actions.  I also have the compensation of having come out ahead in this contest.”  He leaned over and nibbled on Blake’s earlobe.  “Won the prize, as it were.”

 

Blake laughed with relief. “Come here and I’ll give you your prize.”

 

“Oh, lucky me.”

 

~~+~~

 

 

Vila, Soolin and Tarrant walked together through the bustling halls of the Riga base.  Blake had asked them to meet him in a storage room, of all places.  He wondered idly, “So what do you think this is about?”   They hadn’t seen much of Blake or Avon in the last several days.

 

Soolin answered, “I don’t know any more than you do,  but I wouldn’t worry.  Things seem to be running quite smoothly at the moment.”

 

Vila snorted, “If you don’t count Jenna rampaging about like someone poured boiling water on her potted palm.”

 

Tarrant agree, “Yes, she is acting rather strange, but I doubt there’s anything to it.  I’m sure Blake will tell us when we get there.  That is the point of the meeting, surely.”

 

Vila stopped suddenly. “You don’t think he wants to send us on a mission, do you?  I mean, he has better people to send than me, doesn’t he?”

 

As they continued, the woman teased, “He couldn’t possibly have another thief as brave as you.  Yes, he probably wants you to break into Servalan’s clothes closet.  I hope you have your tools ready.”

 

Vila blustered, “That’s not funny.  She most likely guards her wardrobe with Tarzian warb-stranglers.”

 

They came to a nondescript door and Tarrant announced unnecessarily, “Here we are, then.”

 

When they went in, they found the room had been cleared.  On the far side there were two steps down to a sunken alcove.  Sitting on the steps facing away from them were Blake and Avon, with their shoulders touching.  They clearly hadn’t heard the new arrivals and Avon leaned over to whisper something in Blake’s ear, along with a distinct nuzzle.  Blake smiled and pressed even closer, brushing his lips across Avon’s.

 

The three watched the interaction with surprise.  Finally, Tarrant said blandly, “Well, that explains quite a lot.”

 

Soolin was smiling widely.  “I would say this is very good news.”

 

Vila cleared his throat.  “Erm, hello there.”

 

The couple turned and Blake beckoned them in.  “Oh, hi.  Come and sit down.”

 

The three settled themselves on the steps.  Vila couldn’t take his eyes off the two men.  They were plastered together from shoulder to thigh.  Avon looked different.  He had appeared fragile since Gauda Prime, but now it was more of a softness.  He looked almost content.  Blake, on the other hand seemed energised, ready to climb a mountain.

 

Blake began, “We wanted to see how the three of you were getting on, find out how your projects are coming.”

 

Tarrant was glad to report first.  “I’ve found that some of your pilots aren’t really up to standard.  We don’t have enough of them to be able to afford losing any to silly mistakes.  I’ve designed some new programmes for the flight simulator, and am taking some of them on actual training runs.  They’re coming along.”

 

Blake beamed, “That’s wonderful, Tarrant.  If there’s one thing we can say for the Federation it’s that they train their pilots well.  You’re making a great contribution.”

 

Tarrant was a bit nonplussed by the praise, but couldn’t stop a pleased smile from transforming his face.

 

The rebel leader prompted, “Soolin?”

 

“I’ve been conducting mock infiltrations of the base and have identified several serious weaknesses in the security system.  We are in the process of rectifying that.”

 

Avon commented drily, “You must be Inviernosa’s favourite person.”

 

Soolin chuckled, “I wouldn’t say that, but he’s professional enough to accept the criticism and learn from it.  He’s also asked me to give some hand-to-hand fighting demonstrations, starting with him.”  Her smile turned quite predatory.  “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

Blake nodded, “Excellent.”

 

Vila noticed that Blake didn’t ask about his assignment, but that was understandable as he didn’t have one.  Vila considered his to be more of an advisory role.

 

Blake continued, “We are starting a new project.”  The ‘we’ obviously meant himself and Avon.  “We’re going to build a teleport system.  One terminal will be here,” he indicated the alcove in front of them, “and another will be on the Chance.  That’s to start.  It would be beneficial for several of the ships to have teleport.”

 

Tarrant whistled.  “Building a teleport from scratch?  Can you do that?”

 

Avon regarded him coolly.  “Orac has the necessary knowledge.”

 

Blake corrected, “And yourself.  Orac may know the technical specifications, but that’s no substitute for a human with an intuitive gift for computer design.  I would trust a teleport that you built over one constructed by Orac.”

 

Avon blushed and smirked at the same time.  Blake’s answering leer made Vila feel a voyeur.  Then Blake turned back to them.

 

“We wondered if you three had any spare time in your schedules to give us a hand.  Tarrant, you could help me with the installation of the hardware.”

 

Tarrant was surprised again.  “Help you?”

 

Avon explained, “In his life before becoming a famous outlaw, Blake was an engineer.”

 

Blake nodded.  “I haven’t done much engineering in the past several years, but I find it comes back to me when I need it.  What do you say?”

 

“I may not have much time, but I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

 

“Thanks.  Soolin, I want to upgrade the security in this part of the complex, and especially in this room.  It can be quite inconvenient to have unexpected guests popping in.”

 

She agreed, “Don’t I know it.  I’ll see what I can do.  Inviernosa and I can work together on it.”

 

“And Vila.”  The thief sat up straight.  “We thought you could help Avon with the installation of the computer system.”

 

“Me?  I’m not a technician.  You know me and computers.”’

 

Avon grinned dangerously.  “Yes, we do.  We know that you are in fact highly skilled with computer technology, except, of course, for when you wish to avoid work.”

 

“Avoid work?  Not me.  I was thinking that I could help Soolin with the security evaluation.  Demonstrating how easy it is to break into locked cupboards, perhaps.”

 

“Well, I can see that you would be eminently suited to such a task, but I believe that you could be better employed here for the time being.”

 

“Oh, all right.  So I’m back to taking orders from Avon, am I?”

 

Blake clarified, “In a way.  Avon is obviously the expert, but Dayvis will be the technician in charge of the lab.”

 

Avon nodded.  “She is adequately skilled to attend to the details.”

 

Blake nodded, pleased.  “Right, that’s all settled then. Shall we go get some supper?”  He took Avon’s hand to pull him to his feet, and didn’t let go of it until they were almost to the door.  Vila raised his eyebrows at the others and they all smiled companionably. 

 

Vila was pleased to see that Avon’s personal therapy was obviously going much better than expected, and the occupational therapy was about to commence.  He felt more hopeful than he had in years, like he was becoming part of a family again.  This called for a party, and he was just the man to organise it!

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake again sat at the head of the meeting room table with many of the same people around it as the last less than cordial encounter.  It had been seven weeks since Gauda Prime, and it was good to be getting back to normal.  He listened with interest to the current proposal.

 

Jenna explained that a meeting of tritanium producing worlds was scheduled on Terralan in a week’s time.  While it was officially a trade conference, the representative of a planet known to be sympathetic to the rebellion had requested Blake’s presence. He would organise private meetings between Blake and delegates of worlds not entirely in the Federation’s pocket, hoping to establish the conditions for increased rebel influence. 

 

It was an inventive plan and Blake approved wholeheartedly.  Glancing at the man by his side, he noted Avon scowling darkly.  Well, that wasn’t entirely uncommon. 

 

After a half hour of discussion Blake declared, “It’s settled, then.  Inviernosa will accompany us to Terralan.”  He nodded to indicate that ‘us’ included Avon.

 

Conzal barked, “No.  Not Avon, only you.”

 

Blake narrowed his eyes in warning.  “Conzal, I thought we had resolved this.”

 

“This has nothing to do with me, Blake.  We,” he implicated Inviernosa, “gave our word that if the plan was adopted, we would send a small contingent of only the most highly trusted people.”

 

“I trust Avon.”

 

“You do,” Conzal nodded, “and I can accept that, but I cannot in good conscience guarantee to the people you will be meeting that Avon is reliable.  They are taking a risk by organising this and we owe it to them to be careful.  It would not be appropriate for Avon to accompany you.  Surely you can be apart for the week it will take to get there and back.”

 

Another glance at Avon revealed him to be rigidly furious.  Blake touched his thigh under the table, but received no response.  Blake ventured, aware of many eyes on them, “It would only be for a week, Avon, and you’re needed here.  The teleport project is at a critical stage and your absence would cause an unnecessary delay.  You would be bored, anyway.”

 

Avon forced a word through is clenched teeth.  “No.”

 

Avon could be so difficult.  “Please, Avon, don’t be difficult.”

 

The tech turned the full force of his glare on Blake, but didn’t speak.  Blake chose to interpret that as acquiescence for the time being. 

 

Addressing the group, he said, “All right, it’s a good plan.  We leave in two days.”  He quickly ended the meeting and ushered Avon out of the door before something untoward could happen.  Then he had to jog to keep up with his lover as he stormed towards Blake’s quarters, which had become their shared space.

 

The moment the door closed behind them Avon whirled and berated Blake loudly.  “Plan?  You call that a plan?  Those IMBECILES don’t even take the most cursory care of you and you blindly go along with them!  You will not do this.  I forbid it!”

 

Blake was taken aback by the force of Avon’s fury.  “What are you talking about?  This is no more risky than a dozen other things we’ve done.”  Avon was panting with rage.  “Avon, what’s the problem?”

 

The other man exploded, shouting, “You IDIOT!”  He stared at Blake with a murderous look, then the anger appeared to drain away when Avon suddenly slumped, looking dejectedly at the floor, which to Blake seemed even worse.  After a moment he continued sadly, “You really don’t know, do you?”

 

“Explain it to me.”

 

Avon looked at him with eyes dull where moments before they had been spitting fire.  “You still don’t understand how it is for me.  I’m afraid, Blake.  Every time you’re out of my sight I worry that something will happen to you and I’ll never see you again.  For every minute it lasts it seems an inevitable conclusion, that you are gone and my life with you.  I do not claim it to be rational, but I assure you that it’s very real to me.  And now you casually say, ‘It will only be a week.’”

 

Blake’s heart leapt and he moved to embrace Avon.  “Oh, my love.”

 

Avon pulled away and stood stoically.  “You’re going to go anyway. That is an inevitable conclusion.  You are incapable of doing otherwise.”

 

The thing was, he was right.  “It’s who I am, Avon.  My whole life is permeated with the need to fight the Federation.  If you asked me to give it all up, I would try, for you.  But I would cease to be the man you care for.  It would fail.  I hope you won’t ask that of me.”

 

Avon’s face was desolate.  “But how will I survive?”

 

“You’ll have to work at it.  You’ll have to tell yourself over and over again that I love you and I will always come back to you.  I know that it’s a big promise, but you must believe that while I live nothing will keep us apart.  And you will stay busy doing what you’re good at.  You will have dinner and drinks with Vila, and you will allow him to distract and cheer you.  And by god, Avon, you will remember that I adore you.”

 

Now Avon let Blake wrap his arms around him.  Not convinced, but resigned, Avon threatened, “If you allow anything to happen to you, I will kill you.  If they allow anything to happen to you, I will kill them.”

 

Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, Blake asked, “Is there really something about this mission that bothers you?”

 

From within Blake’s embrace Avon answered sullenly, “Yes.  They are taking trust to the point of criminal carelessness.”

 

“What would you suggest?”

 

“At the very least, make contact with independent parties on each of the planets involved and find out as much as you can about the people attending the conference, especially the one who proposed the clandestine meetings.  Use Orac.  You must make every effort to expose any ulterior motives or hidden loyalties before the event.  To fail to do so can be fatal.”  He frowned at what was obviously a bad memory.  “This is a rudimentary precaution.  I’m surprised your strategic advisor didn’t suggest some kind of threat evaluation.”

 

Blake nuzzled Avon’s ear.  “You are obviously the advisor that I need.  I’ll have them get started.”  He released his lover and asked seriously, “Why didn’t you say anything in the meeting?”

 

“Nobody would listen to me.”

 

“Yes, they would.”

 

“No, they hate me.”

 

“If they are wary of you it’s because they don’t know you.”

 

Avon brightened maniacally.  “Ha!  You are indeed an idiot if you believe that knowing me equates to trusting me.”

 

Blake insisted, “No, I’m serious.  You underestimate the effect you have on people.  When they get used to you they will come to value your opinion as much as I do.”

 

Avon humphed, but let it go. 

 

“Please, I need you to say what you think.  To me and to the others.  Will you try.”

 

Avon nodded grudgingly.  “You are a harsh taskmaster, Blake.”

 

Blake laughed, “And you love it.”

 

Avon looked at him thoughtfully.  “You know, I have always admired your ability to manipulate people.  The odd thing is, I find that when your talent is turned on me I don’t mind so very much.”

 

~~+~~

 

 

It was quite late, but Avon wasn’t in any great hurry to return to his quarters.  He much preferred the company of circuit boards and tools to sitting alone in his room.  That the work was going well was an added satisfaction.  He was getting to know teleport technology inside and out, and the ability to put one together from scratch would undoubtedly become a highly marketable skill.  One must always think ahead.

 

All the other technicians had gone for the day and the workshop seemed cavernous without the bustle and noise of human beings.  It was really quite soothing.  Oh, he missed Blake all right, and worried relentlessly, but the constant companionship was in itself a bit wearing.  It was enjoyable to be encased in a bubble of only himself and his work – it made him feel almost normal again.

 

Avon’s concentration on the circuit diagram in front of him was broken by an unexpected sound behind him.  He began to turn, but before the action was completed an electrical shock pulsed through his body. 

 

He was next aware of movement; the distinctive vibration of mechanical transport, probably a flyer.  After that he faded in and out of consciousness, the relatively smooth flyer giving way to the uncomfortable jostling of being carried.  There were quiet voices somewhere but the words didn’t quite reach his understanding.

 

As he was dumped roughly onto the floor his head started to clear.  Avon tried to see what was going on, but it was either dark or his vision was impaired.  Someone was attaching a cuff or manacle to his wrist, and he hit out instinctively.  The person grunted, then returned the favour by striking him soundly across the face.  The pain disoriented him enough that he was unable to struggle as the other wrist was restrained. 

 

Avon blinked in the darkness, trying to understand what was happening.  Well, obviously he had been kidnapped, but by whom and to what purpose?  There was a pale light in the hallway outside the small, bare room which allowed him to distinguish the basics of his surroundings.  He started in surprise.  “Jenna?”  The woman was kneeling next to him, a large man on the other side.  “What the hell is this? Your idea of revenge?”

 

Jenna looked at him seriously.  “That’s right, Avon.  This is revenge and justice as well.  You may have fooled Blake, but not everyone is so gullible.  You are going to pay for what you’ve done.”

 

Avon sneered, “And what is that?  Taken your boyfriend away from you?  Don’t you think you’re taking the ‘woman scorned’ a bit too far?  Release me.”

 

“No.”

 

The man held Avon immobile as Jenna reached behind him to attach his wrist manacles to a ring set into the stone wall near the floor.  Avon was becoming increasingly alarmed, especially when metal bands were closed around his ankles as well.  He struggled to no avail when the chains attached to the bands were pulled toward the wall, drawing his feet close to his body, his knees bent in front of his chest.  They were also attached to the ring behind his back, securing him in that position.  Avon tugged at his bonds but couldn’t move either his arms or his legs more than an inch in any direction.  His knees complained fiercely at the abuse.

 

The man said quietly, “I’ll wait outside,” and left Jenna and Avon alone.

 

Avon growled, “Release me.  Now.”

 

When Jenna spoke, her voice was calm and even.  “You’ve made your last threat, Avon.  You’ve twisted your last life, killed your last innocent person.  I saw you as you were from the beginning, perhaps the only one of us to do so.  I see you as you are now.  You are guilty of betraying a good man.  A man so good that he can’t even recognise the truth.  You almost killed Blake, and you’ll pay for that. 

 

“You did kill Klyn, and I don’t accept your claim that it was a mistake.  You killed her in cold blood.  It is only justice that you should give your life in return.  You have been sentenced to death for your crimes.”

 

Avon’s voice was full of anger and menace.  “By whom?  By you?  I hardly think you an impartial judge.  I know your true motives.  You want me out of the way so that you can have Blake back.  It won’t work.”

 

 Jenna smiled.  “I think it will, actually.  When you disappear, having apparently run away, he’ll need comforting.  He won’t be able to handle it on his own and he will turn to me.  He always does.  You will be forgotten.”

 

Light flashed dimly off a blade which then pressed against his neck, and Jenna leaned forward to hiss into Avon’s face, “You had no right.  You tried to take Blake away from me and that was a big mistake.  The biggest one you’ve ever made, and that’s saying something. 

 

“You’re going to die here, Avon.  You’re going to die alone and in agony. You’re going to die slowly.  You’ll have lots of time to think about all the people you’ve hurt in your life.  In the end you’ll welcome death.”

 

He felt the edge of the blade trace across his breast then dig in sharply over his ribcage.  The woman pulled the knife diagonally from his chest to his hip, easily cutting through the thin tunic he wore, and his skin as well.  The pain was sharp but the injury wasn’t deep.

 

“That’s my act of mercy to you, Avon.  You’ll die marginally faster with the loss of blood, but don’t worry.  It won’t be fast enough to spare you any suffering.  Goodbye, Avon.”  She pressed her mouth to his in a savage kiss of domination and betrayal.  Avon couldn’t help but remember the times that he had done the same thing.

 

Satisfied, Jenna pulled away, stood and walked toward the door.

 

Avon stopped her.  “Jenna.  Tell me this.  Will you be able to enjoy your victory knowing the lengths you had to go to to achieve it?  Knowing that Blake will never love you as he does me?”

 

She almost laughed.  “Love?  You don’t know the first thing about it.”

 

She pulled the door closed, plunging Avon into deepest darkness.  He took a breath to calm his nerves and evaluated the situation.  It wasn’t good.  His muscles were already starting to cramp from the confined position.  He tried to rock, to pull the ring from the wall, but couldn’t get any leverage.  He flexed and stretched his muscles as much as he could to keep the circulation flowing, but knew it was pointless.  Soon he would be frozen as he was.

 

In the dark Avon thought of Blake.  He thought of the strange and miraculous emotions the two of them had uncovered and wondered if it had been worth it.  With the pain that was beginning to wrack his body, it was hard to remember how it felt to press bare skin against his lover, to feel those arms around him. 

 

He had found heaven only to lose it.  Now he truly was in hell.

 

~~+~~

 

 

When Blake came through the hatch between the Chance and Riga base Vila and Tarrant were waiting for him.  He frowned and asked, “What’s wrong?”

 

Vila gulped and ducked his head.  “Well,…”

 

Impatient, Blake snapped, “Is it Avon?”

 

Tarrant answered, “Yes, it is.  Blake, we can’t find him.”

 

“What do you mean you can’t find him!  It isn’t that big of a base.”

 

The other two men glanced warily at each other and Tarrant continued, “We mean just that, we can’t find him.  We’ve looked.  He doesn’t seem to be here anywhere.”

 

Blake pushed past them and into the corridor as though Avon would be just around the corner, his friends hurrying to keep up.

 

Blake demanded, “How long has he been missing?  Why didn’t you contact me?”

 

Vila took over the story.  “We didn’t know he was gone at first.  You know how Avon avoids people sometimes.  We didn’t think it was strange that we hadn’t seen him.  It was late yesterday we realised that nobody had seen him.  We didn’t call because you were already on your way back by then.”

 

“What have you done to find him?”

 

“Soolin organised a search party that went through the whole base.  Nothing.  We talked to Dayvis in the workshop, and she last saw him two nights ago.  He was there when she left in the evening and he didn’t come in the next day.  Apparently the components he was working on were just sitting there on the table.”

 

Blake stopped and braced one hand against the wall.  His heart was pounding and his stomach clenched with fear.  He had to calm down and think straight.

 

“What else?”

 

Tarrant answered, “Several flyers left the base that night and the next day.  He could have been on one of them, or he could have left on foot.  Unlikely, but possible.”

 

Blake turned to look grimly at the young man.  “Are you saying that he left on purpose?”

 

Vila stepped in.  “It is one possibility, Blake.  You have to accept that.  Otherwise it means he left not on purpose.  But why and how?  He could be lying somewhere injured and we just haven’t found him yet.  We don’t know.”

 

Blake challenged, “But you think that he left.”  He paused to take a breath.  “That he left me.”

 

Vila’s face crumpled in distress.  “No, not really.  But where is he, then?” 

 

Attempting to turn panic into determination, Blake strode off.  He was soon shouting orders, his fury sending people scurrying to begin the search again.  Rebels cowered as he bellowed, “I want every crawlspace checked.  Every storage locker and supply room.  Someone bring me the transport logs.  I want him found now!”

 

He kept moving for hours until he was stumbling from exhaustion.  Someone led him to his quarters and forced him to lie down.  That’s when it really hit him.  Avon wasn’t there and Blake didn’t know if he ever would be again.  He pounded a pillow and then collapsed.  He begged the empty room, “Avon, where are you?”

 

~~+~~

 

 

The dark was relentless.  Sometimes he thought he saw figures moving in the distance but suspected that they were hallucinations.  The noises seemed more tangible.  There was a drip of water echoing somewhere, the hall maybe.  There was the occasional scurrying of rodents.  Reality was so much more prosaic than his earlier delusions.  If he weren’t so far past it he would have laughed.

 

Avon’s body had passed the painful stage long ago and slipped into numbness.  All he could manage now was to keep inhaling.  To concentrate on the movement of air in his lungs.  He was afraid that if he wasn’t vigilant he would simply stop breathing and die. 

 

He wondered why he didn’t just let go.  He had given up any thought of being rescued and it was obvious that he was going to die here.  Ironically, the fear was gone.  He had expected the worst to happen and it had.  There was nothing left to fear.

 

He asked himself quite seriously why one must cling to life so fiercely.  Why he must?  It wasn’t as though life had been terribly good to him.  Not until the last couple of weeks, and even then he had known it wouldn’t last.  He would never see Roj again, nor anybody else. 

 

‘Alone and silent,’ he thought.  ‘You wouldn’t wish that for me, would you Cally?  Surely you wouldn’t.’

 

He remembered her face, and Gan’s, and Anna’s, and others that he wouldn’t have expected.  The boy on the London who had died when the hull was punctured, what was his name?  Travis, who had been perhaps even more alone than he.  Doctor Plaxton.  Tynus.  Shrinker.  Others.

 

Jenna was right, he had plenty of time to review his life.  Avon’s disappointments paraded before him.  Tarrant had once said that he was a failure, and he had been correct.  An inauspicious life to be followed by an ignominious death.  Had none of it meant anything?

 

He thought again of Blake.  Avon could still move his head so he rested it back against the wall, and wept.

 

~~+~~

 

 

The next day passed in frantic activity.  Blake tracked down every flyer that had moved in the 24 hours after Avon was last seen.  They all appeared to have legitimate destinations and flight plans.  Blake assigned teams to speak to each of the pilots and review cargo and passenger lists.  Luckily, none of the space-going ships had been scheduled to depart – tracking them and their passengers would have been nearly impossible.

 

Blake called Jenna to the meeting room.  She entered with a look of sympathy and concern.  Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “I’m sorry about Avon.  You deserved better than this.”

 

Blake frowned at her.  “Better than what?  Avon didn’t abandon me.  Something happened to him.”

 

Jenna opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.  Obviously she didn’t agree, but wanted to be diplomatic.  Then she asked, “What can I do to help, Blake?  You know I’ll do anything.”

 

Blake pulled her to him for a quick hug of thanks, then motioned her to a chair.  “I have an assignment for you.  Tal Bendi took out a flier the morning Avon disappeared.  He’s in Riga City and we can’t get hold of him.  Will you go hunt him down and find out what he knows?  I’d do it myself but I don’t want to be gone from the base that long, just in case.”

 

The woman grimaced.  “Bendi?  You know how he is.  I’ll have to look under every bar stool in the city.  It isn’t likely that he has any information, anyway.”

 

“Maybe not, but I have to follow up every possibility.  I’m running out of places to look.”

 

Jenna touched his arm again.  “Oh, Blake.  It will be all right.  You’ll get through this.  You have people who love you who won’t leave you when things get difficult.  It’s time to let it go.”

 

Blake pulled away angrily.  “Don’t let me hear you say that again.  I’m going to keep looking until I find Avon, even if it takes the rest of my life.  Now, if you won’t do this simple thing, I’ll get someone else.”

 

She backtracked quickly, “No, of course I’ll do it.  You can ask anything of me.  I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”

 

He thanked her stiffly and sent her on her way.  He hated to hear anyone say that Avon might not be found, and he also worried that Jenna might still think there was a chance for them to get back together.  Blake knew that wasn’t possible.  Whatever happened, from now on there was only Avon.

 

He didn’t want to leave the base, but Blake was running out of ideas.  He decided to go grill Orac again.  Sometimes it was only a matter of asking the right question, though he had to admit that Orac did genuinely seem to want to locate Avon.  Blake chuckled to think that Avon was the closest thing Orac had to a friend.  Well, that made two of them.

 

He found Tarrant, Vila and Soolin already clustered around the computer.  He was glad to see them, his own people seemed to be avoiding him.  He supposed most of them felt like Jenna did and were glad that Avon was gone.  Conzal had denied any knowledge, but it was difficult to be sure.  Blake couldn’t bear to consider the possibility that someone on this base had defied orders and done something to his lover.  If that were the case, then he would never be able to trust anyone again.

 

The five of them were deep into rehashing everything they knew and everything they guessed, which wasn’t actually much, when Rav Holma stuck his head in the door.

 

“Blake, you’d better hear this.”

 

 “What is it, Rav?”

 

The doctor stepped into the room, pulling a young man by the arm, and locked the door.  He introduced his companion.  “This is Bordon Sheel.  He’s training to be a pilot.”  He turned to the scared looking man.  “Bordon, tell Blake what you told me.”

 

The man blanched.  “But you know what will happen if anyone finds out I told you!”

 

Holma only got tougher.  “If you like, I’ll give you a graphic and technical description of what will happen to you if you don’t.”

 

Blake intervened, “Rav, does this have to do with Avon?  I don’t really have time for anything else right now.”

 

“Yes, it has to do with Avon.”  Holma glared expectantly at the young man.  “Well?”

 

When the young pilot prevaricated again, Blake stood and towered over him, using his bulk to intimidate.  “If you know anything about Avon you will tell me, and right now.”  His belly clenched with dread. 

 

Quaking with nerves, Sheel acquiesced.  “Well, you see, I was in the flight simulator this afternoon.  When the programme ended I opened the door to come out and there was a group of fellows right outside.  I heard what they were talking about and just stayed quiet.  I don’t think they knew I was there.”

 

Tarrant interrupted impatiently, “Yes, fine, but what did you hear?”

 

“There was one man, I didn’t recognise his voice but then there are a lot of people here I don’t know.  Anyhow, he was laughing and bragging about how he had killed Avon.”

 

Blake’s knees gave way and he sat down heavily.  He ordered, “Tell me exactly what was said.”

“He said they, I mean, he used the word ‘we’ but never said who ‘we’ was.  Anyhow, he said they had taken Avon, said it was no trouble at all.  He said, ‘No one will ever find him, not till he’s nothing but bones.’ 

 

Vila put a hand on Blake’s shoulder.

 

The young man continued.  “Said he got what was coming to him.”

 

Blake was speechless, so it was a good thing that Rav was still compos mentis.  Holma probed, “Did he say how they killed him?  Or where?”

 

“Well, it didn’t sound so much like they killed him outright.  It was more like they left him to die.”  Sheel shuddered.  “It sounded nasty.  Anyhow, he said something about an abandoned winery.”

 

Soolin queried, “Orac?”

 

“I am accessing the central tax records.  Kindly wait.”

 

Blake reached out and grabbed the trainee’s lapel, pulling him down so that his face was inches from Blake’s own.   The rebel growled, “Who was it?  Tell me who was there.”

 

“I don’t know!  The simulator door was just open a crack and someone was standing right in front of it.  All I saw was his back!  They walked away and I waited a while before I came out.  I didn’t see them!  Anyhow, it didn’t seem right to me.  We’re not supposed to do that kind of thing.  That’s what we’re trying to stop the federation from doing.  I went and told the doctor because I know he isn’t like that.  He likes people.”

 

Vila pried Blake’s fingers loose from the trainee’s jacket and soothed, “That’s it, you did the right thing.  It was very brave of you.  I’m sure Blake really appreciates what you’ve done, he’s just a little upset at the moment.  Are you very sure you’ve told us everything?  Not left anything out, have you?”

 

Sheel shook his head.  “No, that’s all I remember.”

 

“All right, then.  Just go about your business and don’t say anything about this.  Nobody will know it was you told us.  Well done, lad.  Off you go.”  Vila walked him to the door and put him out.

 

Tarrant menaced Orac, “Come on, you piece of junk!  Have you found the abandoned winery yet?”

 

“Piece of junk you say?  I am tempted to erase the data I have obtained on general principal!  But I will not.  Your opinion is beneath notice.”

 

Blake gripped the corners of the computer’s case.  “Orac, where is he?”

 

“My investigations suggest that this would be the most likely place.”  A wall display projected a map of the area around the base, with one section highlighted.  “There is a ruin here that was at one time used as a winery.  It has been abandoned for many years.”

 

Tarrant studied the map.  “Right.  I’ll go get a carrier started.”

 

Soolin said, “I’ll go to the armoury and get us some weapons,” and followed the pilot out of the room.

 

Holma added, “I’ll get a medical emergency kit and meet you at the carrier.”  He looked at Blake critically then turned to Vila.  “Can you get Blake there?”

 

Blake shook himself and jumped to his feet.  “I can get there on my own.  I’m perfectly all right.  Let’s go.  Now!”  He barrelled out of the door, an unstoppable force of nature.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Vila shifted nervously in his seat.  He didn’t like what that Sheel fellow had told them.  He didn’t like it one bit.  He had a bad feeling about what they might find when they got where they were going. 

 

There were eight of them in the carrier.  Rav had shown up with three other men as backup.  Since the doctor vouched for them, Blake had accepted without argument, eager to be off.  Vila was glad to have them along, even though he didn’t know them.  Orac had sent through a schematic of the abandoned winery, and it was a big place to search.  There was at least an acre of building above ground, and almost as much below, so the extra people would come in handy.  Besides, if they found Avon dead they might need help with Blake.

 

Blake was riding in front next to Tarrant.  His voice resonated in the compartment when he burst out impatiently, “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

 

Tarrant called over the engine noise, “The carrier isn’t as fast as a flyer, but we’re almost there.  Only ten more minutes.”

 

Soolin, who was sitting behind Blake, placed a hand on his shoulder and reassured him, “It’s only been about seventy-two hours, Blake.  Avon will still be alive.”

 

“Of course he will,” Blake affirmed.

 

Soolin squeezed his shoulder and maintained the contact as the carrier skimmed over the tree tops.

 

Vila marvelled at how quickly she and Tarrant had become Blake’s people, especially after the rough beginning.  Ironically, it had come about because of a shared interest in Avon.  Who would have thought Avon capable of unifying anything other than opposition?  It was true, when Avon let down his defences he could be remarkably human and likeable.  He just didn’t do it very often.

 

 After what seemed like forever, the carrier landed and the cargo doors opened, expelling the concerned group onto a field of grass.  Derelict buildings and ruins stretched out before them.  Blake divided them into three groups.  Blake, Vila and Rav would go underground while Tarrant and Soolin split up to lead the others through the complex on the surface.

 

The dark, dank maze unnerved Vila, and he complained, “I don’t like this.”

 

Blake growled, “Neither do I, Vila.  Shut up.” 

 

The doctor took some umbrage at the tone, but Vila didn’t.  This was his role within the group dynamics, after all, and it came easily to him.

 

There were hallways in every direction, some of them blocked by collapsed roofs.  Rooms, with doors and without, lined the hallways.  They systematically checked inside each of them as they explored and Vila marked the wall where they had passed.  It would help them not to repeat an area, and perhaps help them find their way out again.

 

Blake called, “Avon!  Avon, where are you?”  The stone seemed to absorb and mute the sound, and they heard no response.  The three groups kept in contact through small hand-held communicators, which thankfully worked through the thick walls.

 

After about an hour, Blake and Holma, who were in front of Vila, opened a door and Vila heard Blake gasp, “Gods!”  He knew they had found Avon. 

 

Vila started to follow them into the room, but stopped in the doorway.  The air was stale and foetid with the reek of urine.  He would have stayed where he was except for what the pale light of their torches revealed.

 

Vila had seen a lot of horrors in his life, but this was one of the worst.  Avon was folded up like an accordion with his back to the wall.  He looked small and he looked dead.  Somehow horrors were even worse when they were happening to somebody that you knew.  Vila pulled himself together and went to kneel by the others.

 

Blake held Avon’s face between his hands.  The man’s lips were cracked and his tongue swollen with dehydration.  As Blake stroked his cheek the eyelids fluttered slightly, but didn’t open.  He was alive!

 

Desperately, Blake reached behind Avon to try to release his bonds, jostling the bound man and causing him to gasp.  Holma physically restrained him and turned to Vila. 

 

“He’s chained up.  Can you get him loose?  And be careful, don’t move him any more than you have to.”

 

Vila complied nervously, digging the portable lock-pick kit out of the pocket where he always kept it.  He knelt close to Avon and tried not to gag on the strong odours emanating from the suffering man.  Something crackled under his knee and he realised with disgust that it was dried blood. 

 

The locks holding the chains to a ring set into the wall were ancient; they were actually mechanical padlocks with tumblers.  They were difficult to open because they were so rare, but within minutes Vila had Avon free. 

 

Blake tried to put his arms around Avon, and Vila was appalled to hear a noise that would surely have been a wail of distress if it hadn’t come out as a fractured groan.  Holma stilled Blake again.

 

“Wait, don’t move him yet.  Let me give him a muscle relaxant.”  He did so, then turned to Vila.  “Get the others down here, and have them bring a stretcher.”

 

“Right.” 

 

Vila was glad to retreat to the hallway to make the call.  He stayed there to direct the rescue team as best he could.  It seemed to take forever before he could see their torches bobbing down the dark corridor.  When he led them into the room, he saw that the doctor had attached a drip to Avon’s arm and Blake was rubbing the cramped legs, which were only slightly less bent.

 

Avon flinched at the light directed towards him, and one of the strangers swore, “Bloody hell!”  Holma motioned them out and Tarrant and Soolin brought the stretcher into the room. 

 

Later Vila could remember little of the process of moving Avon onto the stretcher.  He remembered Blake’s voice murmuring a litany of comforting words.  He remembered Holma giving precise and professional orders that the others followed as best they could.  He remembered the grimace of pain and despair on the pale face.

 

Then they trekked back through the tunnels and piled into the carrier.  It was fortunate that Tarrant had had the foresight to bring a vehicle with enough room for the stretcher and for the doctor to work.

 

It was late when they arrived back at the base, and few people were about.  It didn’t take long, however, for word to spread and by the time they got to the medical unit a crowd was starting to form.  Holma kept them all out, even Blake, and shut the door.

 

Vila was relieved that they had found Avon alive, but he didn’t think they were out of the woods yet.  Not by a long shot.

 

~~+~~

 

 

This time Avon knew that he was alive, and was no happier about it than when he thought he was dead.  Without analgesics he was wracked with pain, but if the doctor gave him enough to make a difference, they put him to sleep.  He didn’t like being unconscious with so many people around him.  The very idea made him panic. 

 

The physical discomfort was only part of it though.  They were always at him, all those people.  Asking him how he was feeling.  Telling him that he was going to be all right.  Wanting something from him, something he could no longer give. 

 

HE was always there, speaking to him, touching him.  It was unbearable.  Avon would answer monosyllabically, just enough to get Blake to leave him alone.  Very small responses seemed to make the rebel very happy. 

 

He was re-hydrated and nourished, but was undergoing therapy to loosen and strengthen his legs.  His feet, which had nearly turned gangrenous with the lack of circulation, were being coaxed back to life.  Avon’s body was slowly coming back under his control.

 

He was biding his time.  Soon he would be well and then he could act.  He just had to survive this period of disability.

 

Blake was sitting beside his bed again, trying to get his attention. 

 

“Avon, can you hear me?”

 

He nodded.

 

The big man smiled with relief.  “Good, Avon, good.  Look, there’s something I need to ask you.  I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s very important.”

 

Avon waited.

 

“I have to ask you about that night.  No, wait, Avon.  Don’t turn away.  I need to know who did this to you.  Can you give me a name?”

 

Avon shook his head.

 

“Please?  I need to deal with whoever it was.  It isn’t safe to leave them walking around free.”

 

Avon’s eyes widened in alarm.

 

“No, no, love.  We have guards outside the door and medical staff in here with you at all times.  I won’t let anyone hurt you again.  I promise that.”

 

Avon closed his eyes.

 

“It’s that there are people on this base that we can’t trust.  I can’t allow that, don’t you see?  Won’t you tell me?  Just a name, Avon, or a description.”

 

Blake grasped Avon’s shoulder and the comptech stiffened.  Blake released him and he relaxed again.

 

Blake sighed.  “Very well.  We won’t talk about this now.  I will need you to tell me eventually, though.”

 

Avon’s raw voice croaked, “Go away.”

 

The other man tried to put a good face on it, but it was obvious that he was hurt.  “You’re tired, I know.  I’ll let you get some sleep.”

 

Alone at last.  Avon concentrated on not trembling obviously.  This couldn’t go on.  He had to be free!

 

 ~~+~~

 

 

Blake sat in the meeting room chewing on his thumb.  He felt nearly as powerless as he had when Avon was missing.  Yes, he could understand that Avon was traumatised, but he was so cold, so distant.  It was as if he wasn’t glad to be back.  Would he rather have died in that cellar?  Blake couldn’t believe that. 

 

If only Avon would say who had tried to kill him, then Blake could deal with them and things could get back to normal.  Better than normal, even.  He could tell that his people were starting to accept Avon.  Word had got around, and grown with the telling, about what had been done to him, and it generated a lot of sympathy.  Most of the rebels on the base were basically good at heart, wanting life to be better, and they didn’t approve of torture and murder in general.  They didn’t think that anyone deserved that kind of treatment, not even Avon.  They had also seen Blake’s dedication to his friend and lover, and were becoming more willing to let the past go for their leader’s sake. 

 

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Jenna come in.  She stood in the door and said, “Blake?”

 

Staring at the wall in front of him and doing serious damage to his thumbnail, he replied, “Hmm?”

 

The woman didn’t come any closer.  “Blake, I heard that you found Avon.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“He’ll live.”  Jenna knew Avon, maybe she could explain his reticence.  He began, “I asked him who did this to him.”

 

Anything else he had been going to add was cut off.  “And you believed him?”

 

Her tone of voice got his attention.  He turned to look at her.  “What?”

 

“He’s jealous of me, Blake.  He wants to drive a wedge between us.  You can’t believe what he says!”

 

A large, cold fist tightened in his chest.  He looked at her speculatively.  “What do you think he said, Jenna?  Why do you assume that he accused  you?”

 

The woman gasped, obviously flustered.  “It’s just…  You seemed angry when I came in.  I thought…”

 

“You thought that Avon had blamed you.  He didn’t.”

 

She tried to hide her surprise.  “I…”

 

“But maybe he should have.  Did you try to kill Avon, Jenna?”  His voice was remarkably calm.  When she didn’t answer he went on,  “It was you, wasn’t it?  Of course it was.  I see it now.  You’ve been hostile to him since Gauda Prime.  And then he and I fell in love.  It’s you who’s jealous, isn’t it?  You thought that if he were gone I’d take you back.”

 

He could see that she had accepted defeat.  She held her head up and answered him directly.  “He’s bad for you.  He’s bad for all of us.  I wish you hadn’t found him.”

 

Blake stared at her for a minute.  He could barely think.  He didn’t want to think.  Somehow his voice continued speaking, maintaining that cool tone.  “Who was in it with you?  How many were there?”

 

“Just one.  Mort Willem.”  She snarled, “The idiot must have shot his mouth off.”  Then she asked, “What are you going to do?”

 

“Nothing, Jenna, nothing.  You’re going to get your accomplice and leave here.  You aren’t welcome on this base nor anywhere else where I am.  I should kill you, but I owe you something for services rendered.   I will kill you if I ever see you again.  You had better make sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

Jenna struggled to maintain her composure, but she succeeded.  She said, “You’ll see that I was right.  He doesn’t love you, Blake.  He’ll only hurt you.”

 

At last Blake erupted into anger.  He stood and roared, “Get out of here!  Get out before I forget my restraint and give you what you deserve for nearly killing Avon!”

 

She turned and fled, leaving Blake to subside back into his chair.  He stared unseeing at the door trying to take it all in, to understand what had happened. 

 

He sat there all night, seeing nothing but grey, and then walked back to the medical unit.  Avon was awake and sitting up.  Blake approached the bed.

 

“I talked to Jenna.  She confessed.  Why didn’t you tell me?  How could you not tell me?”

 

Avon replied, “It doesn’t matter.  If it wasn’t her, it would have been somebody else.”

 

Blake shook his head.  “I don’t understand you.”

 

Avon agreed, “No, you don’t.  I’m tired of fighting the inevitable.  It’s over, Blake.  This time it’s over for good, one way or another.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m leaving.  I want to be left alone.  If fate wants to have another go at me, it’s going to have to find me first.  I won’t sit here and wait for it.  I don’t want your rebellion and I don’t want you.”

 

The grey fog pulled more closely around Blake’s soul.  He didn’t argue.  He walked around numbly for the next week.  At the end of that time, Avon was well enough to be up for extended periods.  The tech packed a bag and walked to the flyer bay without saying anything to anyone.  Blake was waiting for him there.

 

“I’ll take you.”

 

“All right.”

 

They flew in silence to the public space port at Riga City.  When they landed, Avon took his bag and climbed out.  Blake followed for a few steps.

 

“Avon?”

 

The other man turned and waited.

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

“No.  Keep Orac.  Keep Vila and the others.  I don’t want anything from you.  I don’t want anything that will remind me of you.  I didn’t believe the day would come, but I am finally free of you.  I’m free, Blake.”

 

Blake watched as Avon turned and threaded his way into the crowd.   Then he got aboard the flyer and returned to the base.  People spoke to him and he responded.  He would get on with life, such as it was, whether it had any meaning or not.  It was what he did.

 

~~+~~

 

 

Vila approached the door with trepidation, taking deep breaths to calm himself.  He’d come all this way, but now that he was here it didn’t seem like such a good idea.  He strengthened his resolve, quickly overrode the door lock, and stepped inside.

 

Avon lived on an outer edge of the tower city, an expensive and prestigious location, and sunlight streamed in through large balcony windows at one end of the living area.  Obviously he had landed on his feet and was doing all right.  Vila looked around at the sparse but elegant décor until he was facing the office area toward the rear wall.  Sitting at the desk gazing back at him was Avon.

 

Vila jumped.  “Avon!  You scared me!”

 

The dark haired man answered drolly, “So sorry.  I know it’s quite impolite to surprise a thief when he is breaking into one’s home.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to break in.  Just force of habit, I suppose.” 

 

“How did you find me?”

 

“I had Orac look for you.  Though your name never came up he was able to analyse patterns of business transactions until he found one that he recognised.  Orac knows you well, knows how you think.  I asked Tarrant to bring me here.”

 

“I must be slipping.  I’ll have to be more careful.  What do you want, Vila?”

 

Vila moved closer, but Avon didn’t stand or offer Vila a seat.  “I…I came to ask you to come back to Riga with us.”

 

“Then you have wasted the trip.”

 

“Just hear me out, Avon.  Please.”  Then he didn’t know how to start.  “You look well.”  And he did.  There were fewer shadows haunting Avon’s eyes than any time since Vila could remember.

 

“Yes, I know.  I have a quiet, prosperous life here.  It suits me.  I won’t leave it, not even for you.”

 

Vila swallowed and forced himself to continue.  He didn’t want to harm Avon, but…  “The thing is, it isn’t me I’ve come about, or even you.  It’s Blake.”

 

Avon’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker in his eyes at the name.  He said nothing.

 

Vila went on, “You’ve been gone three months now, Avon, and I can see that you’re coping.  Better than coping.  Showed us that you can get along perfectly well without us, you have.  The thing is, Blake isn’t getting along fine.  He isn’t coping.”

 

Avon’s face darkened and he shook his head slowly in negation.  Vila hurried on.

 

“He never got over you leaving, Avon.  He isn’t the same as he was.  He gets distracted – you find his mind wandering off in the middle of meetings.  He makes decisions then changes his mind.  He isn’t sleeping or eating, not enough anyway.  He sits for hours staring at the wall.  Not even Rav can do anything with him.”

 

Avon’s low voice ground out, “That’s not my fault.”

 

“No, of course not.  It isn’t even all about you.  It’s what Jenna did, too.  He feels guilty about what happened to you, because she did it for him.  He feels betrayed by someone he trusted.  Then you left and now he won’t let anyone close.  Does this sound familiar?”

 

“He will get over it.”

 

“I don’t think so.  Look, I care about Blake and I don’t want him to die.  That’s what’s going to happen, Avon.  He’s taking more and more risks and his people are having a hard time protecting him.  I think he’s trying to kill himself.  You can’t let that happen.”

 

“There’s nothing I can do.”

 

“Oh, yes there is.  Come on, Avon.  When you needed him he was there.  He wouldn’t give up on you no matter how hard it was for him.  He saved your life.  You owe him.  You can’t deny it.”

 

Avon’s brow was furrowed and his eyes were sad.  “No, I don’t deny it.  But you don’t understand.  I can’t go back.  I can’t.  I don’t even leave these rooms anymore.  I’m not the man I was either, Vila, don’t have too high expectations or you will be disappointed.  You’ll have to find another way to help Blake.”

 

“There is no other way.  He needs you and you know it.  No one else can help him.  No one else can save him.”

 

Avon closed his eyes.  A myriad of emotions played across his face and then, decision made, he looked at Vila calmly.  “No, I’m sorry.”

 

Vila’s stomach felt cold.  He’d been so sure.  “So am I.  Listen, Tarrant and I will wait for two hours at docking berth 28D.  If you don’t come then, well, we’ll go home and do what we can.  Please think about it.”

 

He looked at Avon, taking in the desolation and pain that the other man was not hiding very well.  He walked sadly to the door.  “It was good to see you, Avon.”

 

Avon said, “Vila.”

 

The thief turned.  “Yes?”

 

“That Venusian sun-wine that you like so  much, there’s a shop on Level Five, reference Beta Charles, that carries it.  Get what you like and charge it to me.  You know the name I’m using.”

 

Vila’s heart started pounding and he felt a flicker of hope.  Not only had Avon remembered that he liked the wine, he had noticed it in the shop and thought, ‘Vila likes that, I’ll have to tell him.’  He did still care.

 

Careful to keep the pleasure out of his voice, Vila teased, “Level Five, eh?  That’s for Alpha grades like you.  They’d never let me in the door.”

 

Avon looked at him seriously, his eyes intense.  “Don’t worry, Restal.  No one would believe you a Delta.”

 

Butterflies began jumping inside Vila’s chest.  He wasn’t completely successful in restraining a smile.  “Must be slipping, then.  I’ll have to be more careful.”

 

Avon’s mouth twitched the beginning of a smile as well.  “Quite.”

 

Vila left, quietly elated.  The Avon he knew was still in there.  The Avon he knew wouldn’t let anything happen to Blake.  He wouldn’t have a choice.

 

Walking toward the lift, Vila signalled Tarrant on the communicator.

 

“Vila?  How did it go?  Did he agree?”

 

“Not yet, but I think he will.  I told him we would wait two hours.”

 

“And if he doesn’t come?”

 

“Then we’ll wait longer.  He’s coming.  He just doesn’t know it yet.”

 

Tarrant sighed audibly.  “I just hope you’re right, Vila.  We’re running out of options.  Are you headed back to the ship?”

 

Vila grinned, “Not just yet.  I’ve an errand to run first.  I’ll be on Level Five.”

 

~~+~~

 

 

Avon tried to appear confident as he approached his destination. He knew what he had to do.  There wasn’t any choice, really, but after this there would be no going back and he wasn’t fond of closing off escape routes.

 

He was wearing a close fitting outfit of black velvet with stylish leather trim.  He knew he looked good in it.  He wasn’t anticipating having to resort to seduction, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.  Besides, he needed every psychological reinforcement he could muster.

 

Avon paused before the control room door and unnecessarily smoothed his tunic.  When he stepped into the room no one looked his way.  Three men and a woman were clustered around HIM, Blake, trying to make their points.

 

“Listen, Blake, Avalon needs to know your answer.  Say no if  you want to, nobody will mind.  But she needs to know if she should try to send somebody else.”

 

Blake, looking thin, tired and drawn, chewed on a knuckle.  “Conzal, you’ve made good points in favour of going, but so has Inviernosa made equally good points against it.  I don’t know what to do.”

 

Avon stepped closer.  “About what?”

 

All present turned to stare at him, Blake’s eyes wider than the rest.  He repeated, “What is the problem?”

 

After a quick look at Blake, Conzal said, “Fordsmith from the Hamma system has contacted Avalon and wants to set up a meeting to coordinate with the resistance.  He insists that he will only deal with Blake in person.”

 

Inviernosa continued, “The thing is, while we have been hearing about anti-Federation activities at Hamma, we don’t really know anything about their organisation.  What we do know is that this Fordsmith has spent the last twenty years as a pirate and brigand.  A lot of innocent people have died simply to make him wealthy.”

 

Conzal went on, “And that wealth is exactly what makes the offer interesting.  If he’s willing to put credits where his mouth is, it could give the resistance some resources that we badly need at the moment.  The more people we draw into our organisation, the more expensive it becomes.”

 

“But,” objected Inviernosa, “what if it’s a trap?  There’s still a sizeable bounty on Blake’s head.  That has to be a temptation to someone like him.  The risk is too great.”

 

Avon considered the information, then asked, “Is the teleport functional?”

 

Dayvis answered, “Yes.  The technicians were able to finish it with Orac’s help.  It’s been tested and approved.”

 

“All right.  What you will do, then, is tell Fordsmith that Blake will be coming, and you set the rendezvous for one of the system’s satellites.  One that is sufficiently isolated so as to reduce the opportunities for an attack force to hide behind nearby planetary bodies.”   The group of rebels listened attentively. 

 

 “Then you make sure Fordsmith arrives first.  When he’s there, send one man down.  That man will explain that it would be Blake’s great honour to show his flagship to Fordsmith, and that the meeting will take place on the Chance.  For added security, that man will be given code phrases to indicate whether he alone should be teleported back, or both of them, depending upon what he encounters.  If Fordsmith comes to the ship, then all the advantage will be with us.”

 

Conzal questioned, “But what if he won’t agree? He might be insulted.”

 

“Presumably he is insisting on meeting with Blake because he has some regard for him.”  Avon met Blake’s gaze.  “He should recognise that this encounter poses more risks for us than it does for him.  Have refreshments and gifts fit for an emperor waiting for him aboard the Chance, and that should soothe any temporary pique.  If he refuses, then you’re well rid of him.”

 

“If Blake doesn’t go down, he might not trust the messenger,” Conzal insisted.

 

Still holding Blake’s eyes, he responded, “Then send someone to meet him who is easily recognizable as a close associate of Blake’s.  Someone like me, perhaps.”

 

The other men turned to Blake for a decision.  Still engrossed by Avon’s face, Blake nodded.  “Do it,” he ordered.

 

With little further discussion the rebels began to drift away to carry out their tasks.  Avon asked Blake diffidently, “Are you free to speak with me somewhere more private?”

 

Blake nodded and stood to accompany Avon to the door.  Half a dozen pairs of eyes followed their progress.  In the hallway they walked silently toward Blake’s quarters.  They garnered many more stares, but nobody approached or spoke to them.  Soon they were alone.

 

Blake moved to the centre of the room and stood with his back to Avon.  After a moment he turned. 

 

“What does it mean, Avon?  What does it mean that you walk in here as though you’ve never been away?”

 

“Simply put, it means that I have returned.  But of course nothing with us is that simple, is it?”  These next minutes were very important, and Avon hoped that he would handle it correctly. 

 

“It means that I have discovered that I can’t do without you, Blake.  I thought that I was doing the right thing to leave, and in truth I could make no other decision at the time, but now I’ve come to realise that my place is here, if you’ll have me.”  Avon smiled.  “Being free isn’t everything one might have expected.”

 

Avon waited while Blake took that in, then continued, “And I want to apologise to you.”  He sat on a sofa and leaned back, gathering his thoughts.  “This apology goes back a long way, back to the Liberator in fact, but I will start with Gauda Prime.

 

“You see, I was desperate to find you when we came to Gauda Prime because, as I said before, everything was going wrong.  I was to the point where I couldn’t carry on anymore, and I wanted someone to lift the burden from my shoulders.  I wanted you to take it.  I wanted you to be strong enough to do what I couldn’t, to be someone that I could lean on.  I kept thinking, ‘Blake would know what to do.  Blake would know how to handle this.’   I think that without realising it I had wagered my very survival on finding the superhuman figure I imagined you to be.”  Blake slumped into a chair.

 

“The thing is that except for the fiasco on Gauda Prime you lived up to my expectations.  You were strong when I was not.  I depended completely on you, attaching myself to the superhuman image that I had assigned you, to the man who had pulled me out of hell itself.  When Jenna took me,” he only paused slightly, “I continued to believe in you.  I said to myself, ‘Blake will find me.  Blake will ride in like a knight in shining armour and slay the dragons for me.’  But you didn’t come.”

 

Blake interjected softly, “I did everything I could to find you.”

 

Avon agreed, “I know.  But you see, to me your best wasn’t good enough.  I required that you be perfect.  More like a god than a man.  That was why I left.  You had disappointed me by being as human as myself, by being fallible.”

 

Blake looked miserable and Avon continued, “That is what I want to apologise for.  I had no right to demand of you more than I could ever hope to be myself.  I had no right to expect you to guarantee the future.  I see that I was wrong.  I now value you, indeed treasure you, as a man - my friend, my equal, no more, no less.  I want to pay that debt any way I can, by returning at least part of what you gave me.”  He fell silent and waited.

 

Blake chuckled slightly and shook his head.  “If you only knew, Avon, how very similar my thoughts were before Gauda Prime.  I had convinced myself that once you arrived, everything would be all right.  That you would take some of the burden for me.  What a pair we make.”

 

He grew serious, uncertain.  “You’re here, but for how long?  How long will it be before you go again?”

 

This was the moment of truth which Avon had dreaded, but oddly welcomed at the same time.  He crossed to Blake and went to one knee before him.  Reaching up Avon touched Blake’s cheek and guided the man’s eyes to meet his own. 

 

“Blake, I will never leave again.  Never.  If you will have me I will stay by your side until one or both of us dies, and I expect that we will go together even then.  This is a promise I make to you, if you will believe and accept it.  I will never leave you.”

 

Emotion played over Blake’s face, and he seemed to be having some difficulty breathing.  He reached a hand half way to Avon and then stilled it in mid air.  “I want to believe you,” he agonised.

 

Avon smiled slightly.  “Take your time.  You have the rest of my life to decide.”

 

Blake completed the gesture and traced the line of Avon’s cheekbone with his finger tips.  He whispered, “Avon.”

 

Going to both knees, Avon straightened up so that he could pull Blake into his arms.  As Blake returned the embrace, Avon held the larger man’s head to his shoulder and caressed his back and hair gently.  They didn’t speak, just rested together. 

 

Blake relaxed against him more and more until Avon thought that he had fallen asleep.  He stood, pulled Blake to his feet, and led him to the bed.  After removing Blake’s boots he pushed the man onto the mattress and covered him with a sheet. 

 

Blake looked up at him and asked, “You’ll be here?”

 

“I’ll be here.”

 

Avon pulled a chair into Blake’s line of sight and settled in.  Blake fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

 

Avon asked the still figure, “Where else would I be?”

 

~~+~~

 

 

Blake was feeling happy, and was grateful for the miracle.  He stood with Avon at the view port of the Chance, his arm draped loosely around the other man’s waist, hand resting on the slim hip.  The contact was pleasant.  Avon hadn’t moved straight back into Blake’s bed; they were taking it slowly, getting to know each other again, or maybe for the first time.

 

Thinking back on the recently completed mission, Blake smiled.  The whole thing had for once gone as planned, and the resistance had an important new ally.  Blake recalled the image of Avon lounging insolently against a cushion as Fordsmith of Hamma preened amid finery and gourmet treats.  The pirate had been totally receptive to Blake’s passionate appeal.  Though the man’s personal motivations were suspect, he had agreed to support the resistance.  Avon’s plan had worked like a charm.

 

Avon in that black velvet suit made Blake’s mouth water, even as a memory.  He felt heat stir at the thought.  Oh, yes.  They were taking their time getting back to the bed, but they would be there soon, he was sure.

 

Things were going very well.  Not only had Fordsmith been impressed with Avon, but Blake’s own people seemed to be as well.  Apparently, they were so glad to see Blake getting back to his old self that any lingering resentments had been quietly dropped.  Blake and Avon made a good team, and it was obvious to everyone.

 

Not that everything was suddenly perfect.  Blake still had his dark moods and Avon had to work to cajole him out of them.  Avon, for his part, would sometimes become unaccountably frightened and need reassurance.  Both men were slightly damaged, but when they could look after each other it was manageable. 

 

So far it had turned out as Avon proposed; they related to each other honestly on equal terms, taking it in turns to be strong as needed.  It was a new experience for both of them, unexplored space filled with wonders and pitfalls.

 

In his contentment, Blake tightened his arm around Avon, causing the other man to look away from the passing stars.  He commented drily, “It’s official, Blake.  We’re getting old.  It’s embarrassing to find that staring at the ‘pretty lights’ is enjoyable and relaxing.  I shudder to think what Vila will say.”

 

“He’ll lift his glass and welcome you to the quiet life.”

 

“Well, I’m not ready to retire to Gardenos just yet.”  Avon grinned.  “But I don’t mind visiting occasionally.”

 

“Just occasionally.  You wouldn’t want to get too comfortable.  We still have a Federation to bring to its knees and a galaxy to liberate.”

 

Avon rolled his eyes but leaned more heavily against Blake’s chest.  “As you say, oh mighty conqueror.”

 

Blake let Avon have the last word.  Watching the lights stream by, he reflected that there were people living out their mundane lives in those systems.  They weren’t aware of it yet, but he and Avon were coming to set them free.

 

 

End

 

 

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