Chapter Text
INFERNUS
By CindyR
"One fire burns out another's burning; One pain is lessened by another's anguish."
Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Vila opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the pain in his head. Hangover was his first thought. What on Earth vas I drinking last night, he wondered idly. Hope I at least had a good time. Disjointed scenes flashed through his head -- Federation troops, a blinding pain in his back, Blake--
The last scene caught, frozen in a timeless instant. He saw Blake come toward Avon, his hands reaching, heard Blake say he'd been waiting for them, the blaster, very loud in Vila's ears. Vila again saw Blake fall at Avon's feet, saw Avon smile that grim, frozen smile, more blasts. Then Vila had mercifully lost consciousness.
The thief sat up, suddenly oblivious to the pain in his aching head and looked around the room. Two beds, toilet, wash basin. Typical detention cell, he thought. Then his attention was caught by a dark figure huddled in the far corner. "Avon?"
No response. Vila forced himself up on wobbly legs clutching at the wall as the room spun alarmingly. After a bit his vision cleared and his legs steadied. The effects of the stun would wear off quickly, he knew, but he would have to take things slowly until then. He crossed the room, carefully going down on one knee beside the other man. Avon sat motionless, his arms wrapped around his knees. Vila scanned him quickly, looking for signs of injury, finding none. Apart from a few bruises neither of them had been injured in any way. Yet. Vila turned his attention to his friend's still face.
There was no expression whatsoever on Avon's face, his eyes appeared dull with shock and. ..Vila forced himself to use the word... madness. Vila knew Avon had been on the edge of a breakdown a long time -- Malodaar had proved that. The repeated emotional shocks had taken their toll on the dark-haired man's already unstable personality, pushing him closer and closer to the brink. Well, if anything would have sent him off, killing Blake would be it, Vila thought grimly, then felt a flash of anger at both men. Avon killed Blake -- shot down a man the computer tech had learned to love and trust -- to look up to. Blast him!
And Blake -- what had he meant by saying he had set all this up? See all what up? Was he trying to send Avon over the edge? Did Blake want to die? Blast him, too. And blast both of them for getting me into this. The thief grasped Avon's shoulders and shook him roughly. "Do you hear me?"
Black eyes rose to meet his and Vila felt himself flinch. "My god." The words were ripped forcibly from the thief -- the eyes of Kerr Avon were like dark, fathomless wells of damnation itself. Vila felt his anger melting away as if it had never existed. "Avon? Oh, no." With a cry of despair Vila drew the other man into his arms, hugging him tightly against his chest. Avon responded not at all, simply sat rigid and silent allowing the thief to hold him and rock him gently.
Vila felt all the pain and weight of the past two years come crashing down. He rested his cheek against the dark hair and let the tears of frustration and anger and pain flow freely. Vila cried as he had not cried in years. Tears for Blake, dead at the hand of a friend, tears for Avon as lost to him as Blake was -- and tears for himself, alone, helpless and afraid.
How had it all gone so wrong? When they first began to fight the Federation they had been seemingly invincible. Raid after lightening raid and the Federation had actually trembled at the name of Blake and his crew. Now Blake was dead, soon the last of his original seven would be gone and the Federation would have its final victory.
Vila slowly became aware of a slight lessening in the rigidity in the other man, a small easing of the tremendous strain in his muscles. Avon began to tremble ever so slightly in Vila's grasp and the thief raised his tear-streaked face to peer again into the dark eyes. There was a touch of recognition there now -- no more than a spark -- but Vila rejoiced in even that much. He ran a quick sleeve over his eyes and cleared his throat. "?Bout time you woke up. Had me scared near to death, you did! Think I enjoy watching you stare off into space like that?" Vila knew he was babbling and didn't care. Avon was actually looking at him, Vila was sure of it. Looking at him with a mindless desperation that tore into Vila's heart but at least there was that touch of recognition there.
Finally Vila ran down. He could provoke no further reaction in the dark eyes and, for once in his life, he could think of nothing further to babble about.
"Looks like we've finally reached the end, Avon," he said quietly. "If we have to die I'm glad we're together. It's not so bad, somehow, facing things with a friend."
The man in his arms trembled harder and Vila pulled him close again. Vila had no illusions regarding the Federation. He and Avon would be tortured for information and then publicly executed. No, Vila had no illusions and no hope. All he had left to ask for was a quick end for himself and for Avon.
Vila found himself curiously protective of the other man usually so strong and independent. With death so close he found it hard to maintain any resentment over the incident above Malodaar. Avon had not been completely responsible for his actions -- Vila knew that. The madness had been growing since he had had to kill his former lover, Anna Grant. Vila grimaced in distaste at the name. Avon had had to let Vila share his pain over Anna -- had had no choice but to do so and Vila knew how great that pain had been. One emotional shock after another imposed on an already unstable personality had finally brought Avon to the condition he was in -- had brought them both into this situation with only death waiting beyond. Vila felt the tears forming again for himself and for his friend.
And Avon was his friend. Vila realized this despite Malodaar. During the four years they had spent together Avon had accepted the responsibility for Vila and the others albeit reluctantly. Still Vila owed Avon his life many times over and had always sensed the grudging affection beneath the arguments and sharp words. Now it was reversed -- Avon needed him and Vila would be there for him -- at least for as long as was left to them.
Time passed, how much Vila could not know though he estimated at least three days had gone by. He had been questioned once by a hard-looking middle-aged man then returned to the cell. The questions were routine, and, to his surprise, he was not abused.
Vila could not complain about the treatment they were receiving either. They were fed regularly, provided facilities to wash and fresh clothes to dress in, but other than that one brief interrogation both men were ignored. Vila's repeated requests for information regarding the rest of Scorpio's crew had gone unheeded; all they could do was sit, wait and worry.
The same man who had questioned Vila had attempted to question Avon; Vila doubted they had gotten anything at all from him however. The computer tech still showed all the symptoms of severe emotional shock, having withdrawn into himself completely, though Vila was able to elicit occasional monosyllabic responses now. The shock seemed to be slowly wearing off. He ate and drank but little and Vila felt disinclined to force him. It didn't really matter, he decided. They would soon be dead anyway. Why prolong Avon's pain unnecessarily?
On what Vila estimated to be the fourth day the guards came for him. Vila braced himself up then turned to bid a silent farewell to his friend. Avon had fallen into a fitful sleep, muttering unintelligently, restlessly. He looked so defenseless that Vila was loath to leave him. Not that he had much choice, he thought with resignation. No choices at all -- not any more.
The guards herded Vila down a brightly-lit corridor and into a small office. The only occupant was a large man standing with his back to Vila. Something about the stance, the curly hair. ..could it be ,.."Blake?"
Roj Blake faced the thief, a welcoming smile on his face. "Vila! It is so good to see you!" Vila crossed the office at a run, oblivious to the alarmed expression on the guard's face and threw himself into Blake's arms.
To his shock, Blake winced away from him, gasping in pain. Then he recovered himself, held up a hand to forestall the guard and turned to Vila with a rueful smile. "Sorry, Vila, I'm still not quite recovered." He extended a hand, which Vila grasped instantly. "It is good to see you."
"Blake." Vila shook his hand in astonished relief. "I didn't dare hope. ..I thought you were dead!"
The smile froze on the rebel's faced, turning icy. "I almost was, Vila. I've spent the last three days in a regen tank."
Vila found himself unable to meet the brown eyes. "Blake, about what happened ...it wasn't really Avon's fault-..."
"Not his fault!" Vila cringed at the cold fury in that voice. "He tried to kill me, Vila. Kill me!" A note of bitterness crept in with the anger. "I loved that man -- trusted him and he tried to kill me. I'd say that was pretty clear, wouldn't you?"
"No, you don't understand! It wasn't like that!"
"I' d be very interested in finding out exactly what it was like," Blake's tone had grown silky, moderating not one iota the fury in it. "Maybe some other time. Right now I want to know where Cally is. She wasn't with the others. "
"The 'others'? What about the others? Tarrant, Dayna, Soolin. Are they all right?"
Blake's icy gaze softened. "I'm sorry, Vila. Dayna was killed in the exchange. She killed two of my men before she went down."
"I see." Sweet Dayna -- dead. She was young, too young to die so uselessly. None of her hunter's instincts had protected her against a harsh and unyielding fate. Vila remembered the friendship he had shared with the girl, the days of easy camaraderie and the nights they had spent sharing comfort and solace from the loneliness. He would miss Dayna. "And Tarrant?"
"Tarrant died of internal injuries suffered earlier in the crash of the Scorpio. The doctors were amazed he made it as far as he did." Vila felt another surge of numb grief wash over him but no tears. They would come later. He almost missed Blake's next words. "We've got the blond woman in a holding cell. Soolin, is it? She hasn't said a word since we brought him in."
"Soolin -- alive! Can I see her?"
Blake smiled at the pleasure in Vila's voice. "Of course, Vila. You're not a prisoner here."
The thief noticed the very slight inflection. "But Avon is?"
Blake's expression turned cold yet again. Vila noticed the mercurial change in the other. He was obviously under a great deal of stress. "I want him off my base, Vila, the sooner the better. You're welcome to stay, Soolin too if you vouch for her, but Avon has to go."
"But--"
"Forget .it, Vila. He tried to kill me. My men want to send him to the Federation in a body bag." Something dangerous and cold flashed in the brown eyes for a moment then was gone, "But I just can't bring myself to do it. Maybe I am a fool, but even after all this I just can't kill him. Still, he's a danger to me and to my base and he's not staying."
Blake's tone left no room for the immediate protect on Vila's lips. This was not the Blake he remembered -- that Blake might have concluded that Avon was sick, not responsible for what happened. This Blake had learned suspicion and mistrust -- a bitterness in the soul. Vila felt a knife twist within him. If even Blake had changed -- he tried one last time.
"Blake, have you even seen him?"
The rebel stared at him for a moment, then switched on a monitor against the far wall and stepped back unable to meet Vila's eyes. The thief found himself staring at Avon's image on the screen. The computer tech still slept, twisting now in the throes of yet another nightmare. Vila risked a glance at Blake and, to his surprise, found his feelings mirrored. For a moment Blake's expression was naked and vulnerable, full of compassion. It was the Blake Vila remembered from long ago. Then it was gone and his expression regained the harsh coldness that frightened Vila so. "Yes, Vila, I've seen him."
The thief sighed. "All right, Blake, we'll go."
"You'll go with him then?"
The thief nodded at the screen. "Look at him, Blake. He'd never be able to survive alone like this. I. ..well, we've been together a long time. I can't leave him now."
Blake nodded. "I understand. I can't give you a ship but I can provide transportation to any neutral plant you choose."
Vila sighed wearily. "Blake, we've been on the run for a long time. We need some rest and Avon needs a doctor. Couldn't we have a little time first? Surely a couple of days or a week can't make that much of a difference."
The rebel looked uncertain, then nodded. "A week or two won't make that much of a difference. But I want him guarded every minute -- if you're not with him a guard will be. Is that understood? Good." He changed the subject abruptly. "Now tell me about Cally."
Vila told him of Cally's death on Terminal. Blake listened with an expression of grief on his face mingled with that same cold anger. "So we have another death to lay at Avon's feet," he said bitterly. "I should have known I couldn't trust him." He shook his head. "I should never have left."
"No, you shouldn't have." Blake's head snapped up at the strange tone in Vila's voice. "But I won't have you blaming Avon for that, Blake. If you want someone to blame, blame Servalan. She was the one who mined the base. Avon did everything he could to keep us away from Terminal. It's not his fault Cally is dead."
There was an unexpected implacability in Vila's voice and Blake found himself retreating before it. "Get some rest, Vila. We can talk again later."
The thief found himself relaxing for the first time. "Maybe now I'll be able to rest." He headed for the door, then turned back. "Blake? I'm glad you're all right. We looked for you a long time," and relaxed anew into the sunlit eyes that reflected his smile.
Soolin heard the door to her ceil open but sullenly kept her eyes on the far wall. She had been given a cursory interrogation when first brought in but had not been bothered since. She steeled herself knowing the soft treatment was only to weaken her for the inevitable brutality to come. Let them try. If she could survive a hellhole like Gauda Prime she could handle whatever the Federation threw at her.
A quiet, happy voice sent a surge of joy through her. "Vila!" Their embrace was fierce and Soolin wondered at the tears in her eyes and her lack of control. She had tried to keep the Scorpio crew at arm's distance, allowing none of them to touch her heart, yet her joy was deep and genuine. She pulled back from Vila's hug after a moment to eye him critically. "They haven't hurt you? Thank god. The others..."
Vila took her arm and guided her to the bed. "It's a long story, Soolin. Sit down." He told her of waking up in the cell with Avon, of his meeting with Blake and the fate of their fellow crewmembers. He concluded, "He's changed, Soolin. Harder, more bitter, I'm not sure I know him anymore."
Soolin looked grim. "Are you sure it's Blake?"
The thought had not occurred to him before, but he brushed it away after a moment's reflection. "No. It's Blake all right. I know."
Her calculating gaze impaled him for a timeless instant then released him as she came to a decision. "I trust you in this, Vila. What do you think we should do?"
"I can't tell you, Soolin. I can only tell you what I'm going to do and I'm not leaving Avon alone. I'm afraid ...I think he may. ..kill himself."
"Avon?"
Vila seemed to draw inside himself. "You haven't seen him yet. He won' t eat and his eyes...."
"Does he know Blake is still alive?"
"Not yet. I don't think it's going to make much difference if Blake won't see him. You remember what he was like on Scorpio. Especially about Blake."
"He was obsessed. Strange we didn't realize it at the time. But then it's never been easy to know what goes on in Avon's mind."
"Blake always knew." Vila sighed. "I don't think even a medtech is going to be able to help Avon now, but I can't leave him. Not after all we've been through. If you want to stay...."
Soolin shook her head smiling slightly. "Not after all we've been through, as you said. Besides, are you sure we can really trust Blake? You said he'd changed. "
"You can trust Blake. I do."
"As I said before, I trust you in this, Vila. If you say we can trust Blake then we can." She reseated herself on the cot and drew her knees up until she could rest her chin on them. "When do we have to be off-planet?"
The other seated himself next to her. "We've got a week or so. We've free to move about but Avon stays guarded at all times. Considering the attitude toward him here it might be best if one of us stays with us as much as possible."
"He's that bad off."
Vila felt another wave of sorrow and controlled himself only by an effort of will. "Worse, I've never seen him like this. He won't eat -- hasn't in days -- won't talk; just stares off into the distance with that empty look in his eyes."
"We have to tell him about Blake." Soolin stood up decisively and headed for the door. "Come on, Vila. If we can make him listen...."
Vila followed her more slowly, "It's worth a try, but without Blake himself I don't know if it'll make much difference."
Avon was awake when they got there. Vila knew he had slept little since they arrived at Blake's base and there were dark shadows under his eyes. The thief ran a tired hand over his own face -- he had sat up with the other man when the nightmares got to be too bad and hadn't had much sleep himself. He could catch up now that they were safe. Safe. A relative and purely temporary state, Vila knew, yet welcome nonetheless. He would enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
Avon did not acknowledge their presence in any way even when Vila sat next to him and called his name. Vila grasped his shoulders, turning the man forcibly to face him. "Avon." A gentle shake. "Avon, can you hear me?"
Ebon eyes focused on concerned brown ones for the first time. "Yes, Vila, I hear you."
The thief and Soolin exchanged a worried glance. The voice was no longer that of an automation. There was control in his voice -- and more than a touch of steal. Vila looked directly into the now-sharp eyes and began to speak, slowly and firmly. "Avon, I just saw Blake ...no, you don't!" The wall had begun to descend over the dark eyes and Vila shook him roughly, regaining the man's attention. "Don't go away again, Avon. You're got to listen to me. Blake is alive."
"No. I killed him myself."
The flat statement was a harsh whisper, cold as death and totally emotionless. Vila felt a pang of real fear this time but hurried on. "He's not dead. Avon, listen to me. I saw him -- talked to him. He's alive."
Vila held his breath, impaled by the dark stare. Unexpectedly Avon smiled and the thief felt himself cringe away. It was the same smile Vila remembered from Gauda Prime as Avon stood over Blake's fallen body. He started at the man's derisive tone. "Then where he is, Vila?"
The thief found himself unable to meet that dark gaze and shifted his own eyes away. "He's. ..well ...that is...."
"Dead. I know he's dead. I shot him." Vila was now badly dismayed as well as frightened. Somehow he had thought that when Avon came back to them it would be the other Avon, the friend and companion he had reluctantly come to like and respect during their time together on Liberator, not the unfeeling and driven machine that had led them for over a year aboard Scorpio. He nearly missed Avon's next question. "Where are we?"
The thief repeated his story, risked glancing at the other man and froze again. Avon's eyes locked on his face with a mixture of hope and gladness and -- almost -- sanity. His voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotion. "You're not lying? Blake is ...alive?" At Vila's enthusiastic nod he rose decisively and strode away, coming up short against the locked door. "If he's alive why am I a prisoner? Where is he?"
Vila hesitated again and was relieved when Soolin's cool voice answered for him. "He doesn't want to see you, Avon," He spun on her but she held her ground. "You tried to kill him, remember?"
"Yes. I remember." Vila could have cried at first the flash of pain and then the return of the lifelessness in the man's eyes and voice. The hope and joy faded as if they had never been and Vila silently cursed Blake admittedly unfairly -- but cursed him nonetheless. There had been a chance for healing -- for the both of them, Vila knew -- and now it was gone. Forever? Very possibly.
Avon sat back down, his calm restored, his shields again in place. "What does Blake intend to do with me then? Kill me?"
"Blake wouldn't do that!"
Avon smiled sardonically. "Why not? I did."
"We have to leave the base. He'll give us passage to a neutral world, then we're on our own."
"We? Surely he's not sending you away, Vila. You didn't try to kill him. And he can always make use of Soolin's skills."
Vila considered his answer. He knew Avon would never accept nor appreciate the gesture he and Soolin were making for him so the lie came easily to his lips. "He doesn't want us to stay either, Avon. Says he doesn't trust us." He feigned a touch of indignation. "Imagine that! Not trust me. I wouldn't stay now if he begged me."
"You're lying, Vila." The tone was flat and uncompromising. "I don't need you to make sacrifices for me. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." He waved aside Vila's stammered protestations with a weary sigh. "Do as you will, Vila. It can't make any possible difference to me. When do we leave?"
"A week or so. We need time to rest and decide what to do next."
"A week. I intent to put it to very good use and catch up on my sleep. I suggest you do the same." He leaned back, his eyes closed, but Vila saw no lessening to the tension in his muscles. It was, however, most definitely a dismissal.
The sharp cry brought Vila awake and to his feet instantly. Oh, great, another dream. Vila rubbed his eyes and crossed to the other man, grasping his shoulder tightly. "Avon, wake up." No response. Vila gave him a shake. "Come on, man, snap out of it."
The other came awake with a gasp, his eyes huge in the dim light. "Vila?"
The thief could feel him shaking violently and rushed to reassure him with a soothing voice and firm grasp, "It's just a dream. You're safe now."
For a moment Avon's shields were down and Vila had a rare glimpse of the inner man Avon had hidden so long -- the inner pain shoving quite clearly and the vulnerability too. Vila felt curiously protective of this complex man who, he realized now, he had never really understood or known.
Avon seemed to gather strength from Vila's touch then pulled away abruptly. "I'm all right, Vila. Leave me alone."
Vila released his shoulder slowly and straightened up. "Sometimes it helps to talk...."
"Leave me alone!"
The thief retreated in hurt silence, returning to his bed. Don't push me too far, Avon, he thought sullenly. Even I have my limits and you're getting pretty close to them.
In the days that followed Vila divided his time between Blake and Avon. He enjoyed walking about Blake's base and the forests surrounding it, reminiscing over old times with the rebel leader. He had always liked and admired Blake, basking in the warmth of his powerful personality. He still found pleasure in this although it was a harder, colder psyche he now found beneath the warmth. Still he was -- ultimately -- Blake.
Blake had accomplished a great deal in the time they had been separated. His ultimate dream of uniting and organizing the various rebel groups was slowly becoming a reality. Working closely with Avalon and her intelligence network he had widened his sphere of influence to include rebels as far away as Marinus IV. Several already pooled resources and information with many more involved in negotiating cooperative treaties. Blake had high hopes for them and spoke enthusiastically about his chances for uniting his following into one, powerful whole -- a force to shake the Federation to its very core.
Blake had plans to close down this base in the very near future and move his center of operations to a location he refused to divulge. "After all," he told the thief with a rueful expression, "it's safer if you don't know. Neither of us can afford to take chances at this stage of the game."
His time spent with Avon was not nearly as pleasant. Avon had reverted completely to what he had been aboard Scorpio -- all traces of the vulnerable man Vila had tried to comfort scant days ago were gone. There was no vulnerability apparent in him now and Vila thought with a sigh that he had finally completed the walls of ice he had been building around his soul.
Avon, Vila and Soolin met several times to plan their next action. Vila and Soolin were deep in a heated argument debating the relative merits of Freedom City (Vila's choice) over the Free Trader world of Morrow. "But the Federation would not dare to follow us to Morrow," Soolin was saying. "The planet has long been considered too dangerous to operate on unless you know the Pirate Lords."
"And I suppose you do know them," Vila retorted*
"Of course she does," Avon's sardonic voice broke into the discussion. "She's probably done quite a bit of business for them, haven't you, Soolin?"
The blond woman gazed back at him with eyes of blue ice. "I have contacts there, I've never worked for them,"
"Of course not, Avon," Vila put in, "The Pirate Lords are known as the lowest group of cold-blooded butchers in the galaxy."
Avon smiled coldly, causing Soolin to momentarily lose her perpetual calm. "How dare you imply that I would work for them, you hypocrite."
"Be realistic, Soolin. You make your living as a hired killer. What could one more contract possibly mean to you by now."
Soolin felt herself flush scarlet, something she had not done in years. "That's all I'm going to take from you. I should have killed you a long time ago. "
"No, Soolin!"
Vila leaped to his feet in alarm but Avon merely sat back in his chair gazing at her with that cold smile. She calmed after a moment, her natural controls dropping back into place. "Fine. I've changed my mind, Vila. If Blake still wants me to stay then I will. I've put up with more from him then I have from anyone else in my life. It is ended." She turned her cool gaze full into Vila's face. "You don't have to go either, Vila. Stay here."
The thief was gladdened by the unexpected warmth in her voice. Though they had not become friends on Scorpio, the danger they had faced together had forged an unbreakable bond between them -- between all the Scorpio crew including Avon, although Avon had fought to deny any bond had ever existed. Now he had to decide again two friends, between danger and security, between warmth and ...madness. I must be mad myself, he thought wryly. I'm actually going to go with Mr. Sunshine here.
Avon noticed Vila's internal struggle and took the decision out of his hands. "He's staying here." He cut off Vila's surprised protest with a vicious snarl. "Do you think I want you following me around, getting in my way? I had to put up with you too long on first Liberator and then Scorpio. It's over. Stay out of my way or...."
"Or what?" Vila had grown deathly quiet in sharp contrast to Avon's harsh snarl; "you'll toss me out an airlock?" Memories of Malodaar were still fresh in his mind and in his heart. Unhealed wounds opened anew and Vila felt his own heart freeze solid. Good job, Avon, he thought angrily. You finally did it to me -- even to me.
"Perhaps." Avon had gone white at the mention of Malodaar and Vila had felt his heart thaw again until that single word dropped into the air like a chilling frost. No going back now, Vila thought, and left the room with Soolin. He paused at the door, glanced back to take in, for perhaps the last time, a slim, lonely figure with longish dark hair and haunted eyes. I did try, Avon, but you wouldn't accept help from anyone, would you. Anyone but Blake, that is and you even drove him away in the end. With another sigh Vila turned away, leaving Avon alone. Completely alone.
***
"And exactly how long am I to remain a prisoner here?" The cold fury in that question caused the guard to involuntarily retreat a step.
"I have no information on that, sir, except that your request for transportation has been denied,"
Avon's eyes blazed with barely controlled anger. The week's grace that Blake had granted him had been up days ago and all requests for a way off-planet had been denied without explanation. He had no trouble imaging the hatred the other man must feel for him -- justifiably, he was honest enough to admit -- but he would not be caged like an animal. If Blake wanted to kill him, so be it. Avon would almost welcome that now. If not, he would be free. But then, he thought wryly, is not death the ultimate freedom?
"If you can't tell me I'll find out from Blake." Avon started for the door to the guard's obvious consternation. The guard hesitated.
His name was Santana, he was thirty-four years old, had a wife and four children on one of the neutral worlds and was well known for his strength and courage. But it would be suicide for him to face this man in a fight, he realized. Santana had been in dangerous situations most of his life, had faced many men and, most important of all, had learned to recognize the 'look' -- the look in a man's eyes when he had nothing left to lose. Such a man was the most dangerous because he cared nothing for whether he lived and would always fight to the death. No quarter asked and none very given. Santana shivered slightly and wished he had brought some backup. He definitely did not want to go against this man alone, so it was with real courage that Santana stepped between Avon and the door. "Excuse me, sir, I'll inform Blake that you wish to see him."
The fiery glare diminished not one iota and the guard held his breath until Avon paused. "Then summon him quickly," he said with exaggerated control, "or I'll go for him myself."
It was with a sense of real relief Santana escaped the room to find his leader. Let Blake handle that madman if he could. The guard was not feeling particularly suicidal at the moment.
Blake appeared promptly. He had no desire to see Avon at all but had an even greater aversion to exposing his men to the kind of trouble he knew Avon to be capable of causing. Avon stood up quickly when Blake entered, his face chalk white. It was the first time he had seen Blake since Gauda Prime and even his iron control was unable to mask the emotional maelstrom within. For a moment the room was filled with red lights and the blare of an alarm. Blake was coming slowly toward him; he heard the three single blasts, saw? Avon snapped himself back to the present. This was not Gauda Prime. This was Blake's base and Blake felt....
Hatred. That's all I can feel for him now, Blake thought. He was forcibly reminded of the last time he had seen that wild, naked look in the dark eyes. He had reached out then with familiarity and his friend -- his friend -- had shot him down. The rebel felt the involuntary warmth in his heart at the sight of the other man freeze over again. You're not the only one to know betrayal, Avon. Or to learn the hatred that comes with it.
Within seconds both men had regained full control -- diamond and steel they faced each other across the room. "What do you want?" Blake's question broke the silence, flat and without trace of emotion. Avon's face echoed Blake's, also without expression.
"Transportation off-world." He found himself unable to use Blake's name. Doesn't matter, he thought without much interest. Nothing really matters anymore except getting away. He concentrated on that and on Blake's reply.
"I've received word of the possibility that the Federation had learned about this base. If so I'm going to need every ship I've got for evacuation."
"If you've had warning, why are you waiting? Why not evacuate now?"
"All non-essential personnel have already been evacuated but some of the equipment on this base is essential and irreplaceable. When it is ready to go we'll finish excavating; then you'll get your transportation off-world." Blake turned his back to leave; paused. Was that his name he heard whispered so softly? He glanced back from the door. For the first time since Gauda Prime Blake looked deep into Avon's eyes and saw more than the superficial glint of ice and steel. Blake allowed himself to read those eyes again -- the pain and brittle control, the. ..sickness. He wavered a moment, torn, then forced himself out the door. The spectre of Gauda Prime stood cold and dark between him.
(2)
Blake stretched himself and directed a smile at Vila hovering at the periphery of his vision. "This section's finished, Vila. Don't worry, we'll be out of here in a couple of hours."
"Sooner the better," Vila said worriedly. "Do you really expect the Federation to attack this base?"
"According to the latest intelligence reports, two Federation troop ships are less than three hours away." He chuckled; he'd love to see Servalan's, that is, Sleer's -- face when she comes up with an empty base." He sobered suddenly. "Vila, there's time before the final phase starts. I'd like to hear the whole story."
Vila did not need to ask what story. He started the tale after Star One and was surprised to find himself unable to stop -- even subjects long forbidden by the rest of Scorpio's crew came out under Blake's gentle prodding. The rebel learned of Anna Grant and the destruction of the Auronae, he learned of the tensions that grew unbearably on Scorpio after Cally's death and, to his utter shock, even the story of Malodaar. When Vila finally ran down, Blake sat pensive and quite for a long time. "I see the last two years have been no more kind to him -- and to you -- than they have been to me."
"Not kind at all, Blake. Then, hesitantly, "Does this mean you'll talk to Avon?"
Blake paused again; so long Vila thought he would not answer. Then, "No, Vila, I just don't have it in me to deal with him anymore. I put everything I had into that man -- everything -- trying to help him break out of the self-imposed emotional prison of his. I offered my help and friendship over and over again. I really believed he was learning to trust me." Blake laughed bitterly. "Trust me? He was so ready to believe I was capable of treachery he tried to kill me without giving me a chance to explain anything."
"It wasn't like that, Blake," Vila began. He plowed through Blake's interruption with an angry gesture. "No, you asked for it and you're going to hear it. Do you know what we've been doing for the past two years? We've been looking for you, that's what! Every lead, even the barest hint that you'd been sighted, and off we'd go to follow it up. Some of them were traps, Blake, but there was no telling Avon that. Do you know he even threatened to kill Tarrant once? It's true, he did. I think he'd have gone through any of us to find you. ..Even me."
Vila smiled grimly at Blake's skeptical look. "You don't know what it was like. He was becoming obsessed with finding you. He was losing control then, we could all see that, but there wasn't anything we could do about it; you know how Avon is about accepting help. By then we all believed you were ...dead." He bowed his head slightly, "I'm sorry, Blake. We had been through so much ...when Servalan told us you were dead we believed her. We just ...gave up."
"And Avon?" Vila looked up at the quiet question. Was he actually getting through to Blake? Briefly Vila wondered why he should care, yet realized anew that he did. These people had become family to him -- the only family he had ever really known and he found it impossible to abandon them to the pain and bitterness.
"The others told me how he looked when Servalan told them about your death. They said he looked the same as when he'd killed Anna Grant -- devastated. I noticed his eyes later. Blake, he looked almost dead himself. And then Cally..." Vila's voice caught on the name. It had been over a year now but the pain of her death had never faded. It was still a dull throbbing ache inside.
Though it pained him as well Blake pushed it aside. "If you thought I was dead why did you come to Gauda Prime?"
"Avon had spent the last year trying to unite the rebels on the outer worlds. Your dream, Blake. Oh, he covered it up with logical reasons as always but he never cared about the rebellion. He was doing it for you." He made a tired gesture, palms up then dropping to his sides. "When that failed everything just ...fell apart. When word came that you were on Gauda Prime, ..Well ...he was already out of control. When he saw you he just.. .snapped. "
Blake sat silent. It all made sense -- the pain and desperation he'd glimpsed in Avon's eyes, the wildness. He remembered the thought that flashed in his mind the instant before Avon shot him. "My god -- he's broken!" He had seen the sickness in the dark eyes -- should have known to go slowly. Could have tried to get through to him.
But Avon did try to kill me, and there's no way to ignore that fact. Blake didn't know if he would ever be able to deal with it. A part of him ad died with those three blasts. Perhaps it was too late anyway. Too late to make any difference between him and Avon now.
***
The choking smoke swirled around him, cutting off breath and light. "Blake!" He knew Blake was here somewhere and was relieved when he perceived the man's solid bulk through the smoke.
Blake grasped his arm, pulling him along with him. "The intelligence was faulty; the outer perimeter has been breached. We have to make it to the ships. Come on, Vila!"
Vila pulled away. "What about Avon?"
"The guard had orders to release him in case of emergency. He should be on his way to the escape ship now."
Vila subsided but continued to worry. He hoped the computer tech would show some sense for once in his life and get to the evacuation ship without causing a problem. At one time he would have trusted the man's gifts for survival nearly as far as he would trust his own finely-honed instincts. But in the condition Avon was in there was no telling what he would do.
By silent agreement both men decided to shelve such questions as how the troops got on base and why Blake's intelligence report was so wrong. Such questions could wait for a safer time. Now they concentrated on making it through the confused gunfire to the escape ships. Vila bumped against Blake as the larger man stopped short. "What is it?" he whispered.
''We're cut off. We'll have to go around."
They started back the way they had come passing the living quarters and the now-empty detention cells. Vila heaved a sigh of relief. So Avon had some sense after all. A welcome surprise. The trip was a long nightmare for Vila. He was unarmed and feeling very vulnerable but Blake was armed and quite deadly. Several troopers fell before Blake's blaster and the two men made their way slowly through the smoke-filled corridors.
Suddenly Blake ducked into a side passage pulling Vila with him. "I hear voices ahead," he whispered. "We'll have to go slowly."
"Can't we go around?" was the nervous reply; Vila hated gunbattles.
"Only way out is through the corridor." He gave Vila a reassuring pat. "Come on, Vila, they'll never know what hit them."
"I wish I didn't know either," came the muttered reply but the thief followed obediently.
They inched toward stopping outside a normally unused storage area. Blake peered in, stiffening in shock. Santana's dead body lay discarded in a corner, two black-clad Federation troopers nearby. One of them had Avon's arm twisted up behind his back and, as near as Blake could tell, it was the only thing keeping the computer tech upright. An ugly bruise lay along one cheek and he shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear it. The second trooper was speaking. "We want to know where Blake's new base is. Now!" The only answer was a cold gleam from the dark eyes; and he felt a momentary flash of pride. Avon wouldn't give a single inch to all the powers that ruled much less to such scum as these.
The guard emphasized his question with a sharp blow, and Avon doubled over at the fresh agony in his already bruised abdomen, fighting to maintain consciousness. "It's almost humorous that you think Blake would tell me the location of his new base," he sneered around a cough. "The others are long gone now."
"You still die," one guard threatened.
Avon's dark head shook. "Then it's soon going to be over. Finally." A familiar baritone snapped his head up suddenly, eliciting another grunt at the pain in his midsection "Blake?"
"Release him. Now!" Blake's voice shook with a cold fury he had not felt in a long time. He had thought himself beyond caring for Avon yet seeing the other man mishandled had stirred all the old feelings of affection and protectiveness that Blake had thought long buried. Without compunction Blake shot the troopers down.
Vila leaped forward, catching Avon when he slumped, holding him steady until the man could regain his balance. Avon's eyes had widened at the sight of Blake and now remained locked on his face watching the rebel with a desperate intensity that reminded Blake uncomfortably of Gauda Prime. Blake found himself in the unenviable position of having to trust a madman who had already tried to kill him once. No choice. He'd have to take a chance on ...the thought died stillborn. Avon had pulled away from Vila and Blake saw him suddenly stiffen then launch himself at the larger man. Blake raised an arm to protect his throat and was unprepared to be the recipient of a hard shove instead.
Blake staggered against the wall in time to avoid the blast that came singing past his shoulder. Avon went down with a cry clutching his arm as Blake spun into action. He whirled and fired all in one smooth motion, hitting the lone trooper squarely in the chest. A glance to assure himself that there were no additional troopers in the area and Blake dropped by Avon's side watching anxiously as Vila ripped open the already torn sleeve. There was a great deal of blood but a glance convinced them that the wound was minor.
The computer tech moaned slightly and opened his eyes as Vila was tying a crude bandage, gazing at Blake in obvious confusion. Blake stared deep into the unshielded and vulnerable eyes and, for a moment, recognized the friend he had thought long gone. So there is something left of you, Avon he thought, surprised at the pleasure the thought brought him. Perhaps there is hope -- for the both of us.
Pain and memory hit the dark-haired man simultaneously making him catch his breath. Relief flooded at the sight of Blake's uninjured form -- relief, he realized with a start, that was mirrored in Blake's concerned smile. They stared at each other for a timeless instant, lost in the unbidden warmth that sprang up between them.
Vila, too, felt his heart soar. We're together again, he thought happily. Really together for the first time in two years.
Then the familiar shields dropped into place again but Vila fancied they were less solid, less all encompassing than before and Vila rejoiced in the feeling. Maybe if they got out of this alive, things could be like they were before. Just maybe.
Blake grasped Avon by his undamaged arm. "We've got to get out of here, Avon. Can you walk?"
"Of course." He allowed Blake to haul him to his feet then stepped away. "Which way, Blake?"
The rebel's reply was interrupted by the sound of approaching gunfire. Avon and Vila armed themselves and they started down the hall in the direction of the sporadic shooting. Vila tugged Blake's arm nervously. "Shouldn't we be going in the other direction? I mean, it sounds like a war up; there."
Avon shot him a disgusted look, "We have to get to the escape ships, you fool. There's no other way off planet "
"Besides," Blake added, "it sounds like some of my people are trapped up there. We can't leave them."
Avon transferred his glare to the rebel, murmured, "Of course not," under his breath but followed quietly. Some things, it seemed, never would change.
They met only two small patrols on the way to the hangar bay. The habit of years came into play in the heat of combat reforging the three men into an effective and deadly unit. Finally the hanger bay stretched before them and they had a clear view of the uneven battle taking place. Two of Blake's men were wedged between a small silvery ship and a cargo loader, holding back a larger Federation force only by virtue of their highly fortified position. The Federation soldiers couldn't reach them but neither could Blake's men leave their shelter.
"Why don't they just board that ship," Avon whispered fiercely. "What are they waiting for?"
Blake whispered back. "That's my personal flyer. They can't get in without my security codes." He began firing on the unprotected backs of the black clad troopers and soon the last fell, caught in the merciless crossfire. Blake joined the men near his flyer, "Report, Deva," he barked.
"Everyone else is either off or dead, Blake. Jaron and I planned to get off in the auxiliary hopper," he gestured towards a small planet hopper in the corner, "but we had a computer malfunction and had to abandon it. If you hadn't shown up when you did we would have been finished."
Blake keyed in his security code and the five men immediately boarded the ship. Deva and Blake headed for the helm controls, the others arranging themselves around various consoles and seats in the cabin. Avon took the weapon station, checking the blasters and priming them for combat. The powerful motors rumbled into life, lifting slowly, then picking up speed as Blake headed for the open iris at the apex of the hanger above them. The small ship slipped out into the air, gaining ever more speed as it headed for open space.
Vila leaned back with a large sigh of relief. "We made it," he said wonderingly. "We made...." His words were choked off by an explosion which jarred the small ship violently.
"Two ships, Blake," Deva reported studying the scanners. "Bearing two-six-four mark ten. Range two hundred kilos."
"Bearing Bearing two-six-four mark ten. Range two hundred kilos," Avon repeated, targeting the main blasters. "Firing, ..now." A flash from the underbelly of the small ship and one of the Federation gunships vanished in a burst of incandescent light.
"You got him!" Vila exulted.
Blake dipped the ship under the returned salvo attempting to bring the blasters to bear on the remaining Federation ship. Both ships dipped and wove in a graceful aerial ballet, each attempting to center target the other. Avon felt a surge of admiration for Blake's flying skill. The man had improved considerably since their days on the Liberator. A dangerous barreling spin and suddenly the Federation ship was perfectly in Avon's sights. He hit the firing lever simultaneously with Blake's, "Now, Avon!" The second gunboat went the way of the first.
Blake shot the computer tech a grin and Avon found himself smiling back in shared triumph.
"Scanners read clear, Blake," Deva reported. They heaved a collective sigh of relief. "Coordinates for McCay set and laid in."
"Acknowledge." Blake initiated the new course and stood up. "Take the helm, Jaron. Come on, Avon. I want to take a look at your arm." To his surprise Avon obediently rose and followed him to one of the cabins.
Silence reigned while Blake cleaned and re-bandaged the wound, "It's not serious, Avon," he said leaning back, "probably hurt for a few days though." He hesitated, aware that he and Avon needed to talk but unsure of how to begin. "Avon, about what happened...."
"Don't say it, Blake. Don't say you forgive me, don't say we can work it out. You're wrong." Blake started at the vehemence in those words, the unsuppressed emotion in the dark eyes. "I may not have killed you this time, Blake, but I will the next. In case you haven't noticed, people I, care ...about have an uncomfortable habit of dying in my presence." His eyes softened slightly. "Take my advice, Blake, put me off on the next neutral planet we come to. Believe me, it's not worth it." He rose to leave, slipping the customary mask firmly into place.
"Avon, wait." Blake grasped the other man by the arm, turned him gently until he could meet the near-black eyes. "I happen to think it is worth it -- that you're worth it." The mask slipped a bit and Blake gathered courage from that. "We have been together a long time, Avon, through a lot together. Neither one of us can deny the fact that there has been friendship between us. I've never been able to understand it any better than you but at least I can accept it. And I don't think even you can deny it any more."
"Blake. ..I..." Avon shook his head helplessly, choking over the words. "Gauda Prime...."
"In a warped way Gauda Prime proves my points I've seen you hate, Avon. I've seen the cold, calculating bastard you become. There was nothing either cold or calculating about you on Gauda Prime."
"Not even anything ...sane," Avon whispered, unable to meet Blake's eyes.
"Avon," Blake tightened his grip, pleased when the slighter man didn't pull away. "It's over. Can't you let it go?"
"Can you?" The anguish in the other man's voice tore into Blake, reopening wounds, exposing feelings long forgotten. "I killed, ..shot you. How can you possibly forget...."
"Forget? I don't know if I can forget that, Avon," Blake said gently. "But I think I can deal with it. We can both deal with it. What I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to leave."
"I don't really want to," a hesitant whisper, "but if I stay it will happen again." He locked gazes with the rebel. "I am death to be around, Blake. Tarrant, Dayna, Cally...Anna," the words came out in a rush now. "Even you. To be close to me is to court death. Is that what you want?"
The rebel hesitated, only now fully appreciating the precarious mental state of the other. He was in control only barely, poised once again on the edge of desperation and madness. Avon misinterpreted the hesitation as rejection and smiled slightly. "I didn't think so. Even you have more sense than that." He started to turn away only now becoming aware of the tight grip on his arm. "Release me, Blake."
"Didn't you understand a word I said?" The same mellifluous voice which had the power to sway entire populations began to weave its spell once again, blending affection, concern, friendship into one harmonious song. Avon had lost his defenses against that particular magic, blasted them away that day on Gauda Prime. He felt himself respond as Blake talked, irresistibly drawn to the man behind it.
"You saved my life back there, Avon," he gestured to the injured arm. "I would have died then but for you. That makers up for Gauda Prime." Avon knew that to be untrue, but at the moment the desire to believe was too strong. Blake went on, "I need you, Avon. Need your support, your courage, even your cold cynicism to point out my flaws, complement my strengths. Two halves of a whole. I'd charge hell itself with you at my side -- and probably win. Together we can take on whatever the Federation throws at us. Separately, ..well, neither of us have done that well separately."
"You have done well, Blake," Avon surprised himself by saying, "The base, your organization. . . . "
"Yes, but I could have done much better." Blake smiled again, a sunlit warmth that invariably remainder Avon of bright meadows and blue skies. "Don't leave, Avon. Give it a chance."
The computer tech found himself once again entwined in the web of this man's vital personality and felt a spark where once existed only the subzero cold. He nodded. "I'll stay, Blake, but don't say I didn't warn you."
The larger man laughed and threw an arm companionably about the other's shoulders. "Don't worry, Avon, I expect to get a lot of warnings in the near future. Maybe this time I'll even listen to them."
finish