A/N: This story is set after the research station XK-72 was destroyed. In canon, Avon barely escaped. I wondered, what if he hadn't?
Most of us reading here on FanFiction are also authors. We've all had our fictional characters try to hijack our stories. In this one, they actually did!
B7B7B7
Everything suddenly clicked into slow motion for Blake – his crew on the flight deck, the Federation pursuit ships…the remnants of the explosion of the research station XK-72. Somehow he kept giving orders and operating normally as they eluded and destroyed the pursuit ships bent on their destruction, but a part of his brain kept screaming, "Avon is dead…dead…dead…"
At last, the battle and escape over, he could just stop, numb, and slump on the flight deck sofa and stare at his hands, lying limp across his thighs, feeling like he'd turned to stone and would never move again. The rest of the crew didn't exist right at that moment for Blake – only the one crewmember that had ceased to exist. Then Jenna, his flame-bright pilot, broke the silence.
"Vila, where are you going? Vila, come back here!" Her concern was evident in her voice.
Blake pulled himself wearily back into focus as Cally spoke quietly, "Let him go, Jenna. He needs to be alone for awhile, I think."
"Still, I'd better go after him," Blake said, rising and moving heavily toward the entrance to the flight deck. He really shouldn't be alone now, he thought to himself, and neither should I.
"But you'll never find him if he's gone to ground somewhere in one of his bolt holes!" Jenna exclaimed, and was immediately horrified at her choice of words. Avon had just died because of his well-known desire for a 'bolt hole'.
"I know where he'll go," Blake replied, turning haunted eyes briefly in her directions, and left.
The door to Avon's cabin opened silently on a dim and shadowed land where everything was neat and in place and normal-looking. The room appeared empty. Too bloody empty, came the thought, unbidden, to Blake's mind. He was reaching for the light control when a small sound stopped him.
"Don't," whispered Vila, huddled in a pool of shadow near the foot of Avon's bed. "If you do, he'll really be gone forever. This way, he might be in one of the shadows."
Blake aborted his gesture and padded silently to kneel beside the thief where he sat, knees drawn up to his chin, arms around his knees, and eyes fixed, staring at the bed. Blake put his own back against the wall and slid down it to the floor next to Vila.
Softly he said, "I know how you feel, but it won't make anything different or better for us both to sit here in the dark and wish him back. He's dead. We can't change that fact, and we'll just have to go on living now." He was trying to be reasonable, but it was clear he was having trouble believing his own words. He put his arm around Vila and drew him into a comforting embrace, though he thought, And while I'm comforting Vila, who will comfort me?
Something snapped inside Vila, loosing the floodgates of despair. He buried his face in Blake's shoulder and cried as though his heart were broken, as indeed it was. Blake held him tightly, tenderly, crooning nonsense to the top of Vila's head and stroking Vila's back as gusts of grief shook the smaller man. While Blake knew he had to be the strong one now, his own eyes burned from unshed tears, his throat ached with incipient sobs, his stomach clenched in grief.
Finally the floor became too much for him. Blake stood and used his considerable strength to scoop Vila off the floor. Carrying him to the side of the bed, he laid them both down atop the covers, still cradling the sobbing man in his arms. It felt strange, just the two of them, alone, in that big comfortable bed. Vila felt it too and gradually grew silent.
Pushing himself away from Blake far enough to focus on his face, Vila asked in a small voice, "Where is he now, Blake? Where did he go after…he died?" The last words followed an aching gulp from the little thief.
"I don't know, Vila," Blake replied softly. "I guess that depends on how you feel about an afterlife. I don't know what Avon believed, but I believe we'll meet up with him again, when we die."
That satisfied Vila somewhat and he snuggled back into Blake's shoulder. After awhile, he spoke again, his voice muffled by Blake's full shirt. "All the same, I just wish I could see him, talk to him one more time, to tell him I loved him."
"Shh, I know, I wish that too," Blake soothed.
* "Tell me what?" a beloved voice spoke softly from the shadows.
Blake and Vila bolted up, disentangling limbs and scrambling to the edge of Avon's bed.
"Avon?" Vila quivered crouching on his knees. "Where are you?" Beside him, Blake swung his long legs off the bed and sat silent.
In the far corner, a shadow lengthened and detached itself as Avon stepped into a dim pool of light that wasn't really there.
"Here, Vila. I'm over here," came his reply. As the two on the bed broke free of the spell Avon's words had cast over them and started to rise, he cautioned, "No, stay there, both of you. I'm not really here in body. There's nothing you could touch. Just…talk to me, please. I haven't much time here."
"But Avon, where…how…why…" Vila babbled.
"You called me, both of you. We have unfinished business between us, it seems. I wouldn't have had enough strength to come back to you like this without your wishing it too. I'm sorry."
"For what?" Blake wondered aloud, his voice rough and hesitant. This was so surreal he was sure he'd wake in a moment, tears still staining his face and Avon still dead and gone forever.
"For so many things I've done and…not done. For leaving you two alone, for not saying goodbye, for never telling you both how much you mean to me…how much I love you…" His words became softer, then died away completely. He stood there, dark eyes searching theirs, waiting, just waiting.
Vila broke the silence first. "Avon, I love you too. You were my rock, my safety, my heart's home. I will miss you forever, miss your voice scolding me, miss your hand in my hair, miss your arms around me in the night." His words choked off into a sob.
"I'll miss you too, Avon," Blake added soberly. "I needed your honest vision to keep me on course. I needed your arms around me when things went wrong. I needed your whisper in my hair in the night. I love you, Avon," he ended quietly, his throat suddenly too tight for speech.
A moment of silence, then, "You'll have to take care of each other now. Blake, listen to Vila for a change. He's not only the Delta thief we've been led to believe," he said affectionately, a smile in his voice. "He sees quite a bit more than you'd believe and he knows people better than I ever did. Take his counsel, Blake, you won't be sorry. And…please protect him. For me."
He turned to Vila and held the thief transfixed with his eyes. "Vila, I know it'll be heard, but you have to be honest, with Blake at least. You're no more a Delta than I am. It's time to come out from behind your personae and be your real self. You have to take my place at Blake's side, be his advisor and guard his back."
He stopped as Vila protested loudly, "Me? Take your place…the others won't allow…I can't…"
Avon overrode Vila's protests. "Yes, you can, Vila. Blake will support you. It won't be easy, but I have faith in you."
Vila deflated a bit, sagging sideways into Blake's sheltering arm about his shoulders. "All right," he conceded, then continued in a small voice, "I'll try. For you."
Avon smiled his beautiful, well-remembered, private smile. "I know you'll do just fine, both of you."
"It's time for me to go now," he said sadly. "Just remember that I love you and that you can count on each other. Someday, a long time from now, I hope, we'll meet again. I'll be waiting for you, my beloved ones. Goodbye."
He stepped back into the shadow and was gone.
The silence stretched on between them. Finally, Vila said, "Blake?"
"Yes, Vila?"
"What do we do now?" A quiver he didn't bother to suppress vibrated in his words.
"We go on, Vila, just like he told us to do." He turned the thief toward him and continued, "I'll try to protect you and listen to you, if you'll come out from behind your Delta façade and keep me from making too many mistakes. Promise?"
"Promise," Vila replied, with more determination than he truly felt.
In the shadows, a brief glint flashed as Avon smiled, then disappeared.
B7B7B7
Connection (A/N: This goes between 'Ghost' and 'Flip-side.')
It was after midnight. I had just finished the final keystroke on this gut-wrencher and sent it to my printer. But we all know that, when stories hit, you gotta write 'em. Anywho, the printer was busy doing its thing when a very familiar voice and shimmer of reflected light brought me up straight in my chair, twisting around.
"See, Blake? I told ya," Vila's voice sounded behind me. "I just wish if they were gonna write 'em, they'd at least get 'em right!"
"But…" I tried to answer. My shocked vocal cords refused to function.
"It didn't happen quite that way." Blake's voice was a gentle rumble that contrasted with Vila's more strident whine. There was a sadness in this rebel's eyes as he remembered. "Wishful thinking perhaps," he said, reading the last page for himself. "…but, no."
"Uh…" I wanted to ask him for details and truth but wasn't sure I was ready to open an obviously barely-healed wound. "How did it happen?" I whispered, finally discovering a bit of courage.
At that moment, a third presence shimmered into 'reality', though this one's bright aura didn't diminish as the other men's had. This was Kerr Avon in all his 'ghostly' splendor, almost transparent, but still very much here before me, in my very own suburban living room. His voice was softer than I expected, as he addressed me personally.
"I'm sorry to have to burst that very romantic bubble you've just created, but I would very much prefer that the real truth be known."
"Of course…Avon," I managed to reply. Ghods! Even as a ghost in black leather, he was stunning. No, make that especially as a ghost in black leather! Besides, what choice did I have, anyway?
"Vila," Avon turned and addressed his still living lover.
The thief reached in his pocket and palmed something I couldn't quite see until he slapped it on my forearm. A tranquilizer pad! I recognized the object easily from endless hours before the telly.
As the drug threatened to steal what was left of my equilibrium, strong rebel arms lifted and carried me to the sofa. As I was settled into the cushions, I was vaguely aware of the afghan, pulled from the back of the couch, being thrown over me.
A fading part of my brain registered a distinct Delta accent saying, "Glad you were able to help out, Avon. D'ya think you can become solid enough to make an impression on that keyboard? Can't really afford to ruin the reputation you worked so hard to build, can we?"
"Oh, I think I can manage for the time this will take." The voice was one I knew better than any other and I dimly remember a Welsh-tinged chuckle following me over the edge to unconsciousness.
B7B7B7
When I opened my eyes, daylight was streaming through the great room windows and Dorian, my grey cat, was sitting on my chest, peering down at me, accusing me in her feline way of attempting to starve her.
"Wow!" I said, fondling the ears of the eight-pound bit of cathood. "Some dream! Wish they could all be that realistic!"
I rose, folded the cover, returning it to the sofa back, and went to where the cat dishes sat empty. As I poured kitty kibble into both bowls, the calico member of the pride made her entrance through the flip door from the garage. "Hello, Chewie," I greeted her, as she dived into her food before Dorian could do her out of her share.
I padded across the red tile floor toward the computer desk. "Ouch!" I yelped. Reaching down, I pulled the offending object from the sole of my bare foot, puzzling over it. "What the…a silver stud! How'd that get…"
It all came flooding back! My rational mind refused to believe what my heart (and my foot) had just told me. Afraid of what I might find, I crept up on the printer. What I had written in the night was stacked neatly to one side. There was printed paper in the tray, with a note paper-clipped to the top.
"Sorry if we startled you, but this is what really happened. You may do as you like with it. K.A."
I pulled the printed sheets out and the following is what I found. It was NOT typed by me, but by the hand of one who knew the truth.
B7B7B7
A/N: 'Flip-Side' is an alternative ending to 'Ghost' that belongs at the star (*) in that story.
* They were both galvanized as "Tell me what?" came a sullen voice out of the shadows.
Blake and Vila bolted up, disentangling limbs and scrambling to the edge of Avon's bed.
"Avon?" Vila quivered crouching on his knees. "Where are you?" Beside him, Blake swung his long legs off the bed and sat silent.
In the far corner, a shadow lengthened and detached itself as Avon stepped into a dim pool of light that wasn't really there. "Here," Avon said tersely.
"Stay there," he ordered, as they started to rise, to go to him, to embrace him, to love him. As they sank back to the bed, he continued, looking down at himself, "I'm not really here in body anyway." He looked up at them again. "Why am I here? I'm dead. Dead is dead. There's no afterlife, I've always believed, so why am I here?" His confusion and frustration were evident to both watchers.
Blake ventured, "Maybe there's some unfinished business we need to take care of before you can be through with us."
Avon considered. "Well, you two called me back, so get on with it," he said savagely, continuing with longing in his voice, "so that I can finally get some peace."
It was Vila's turn. "We both wanted to tell you something." He turned to look at Blake, who nodded. Vila pressed on with a courage he hadn't known he possessed. It wasn't like he'd had much practice standing up to Avon. "We wanted to tell you how much we both love you and how much we'll miss you. You are a big part of our world, ya know." He halted, chin held high, eyes glistening with incipient tears.
Avon was silent, so Blake took up where Vila had left off. "Avon, we will miss you. I certainly needed you by my side, for your clear vision to keep me on course…"
He didn't get any further, as Avon interrupted angrily, "YOU need, YOU want! What about what I needed and wanted? Did you two ever consider the burden you loaded me down with? Always I had to protect Vila and watch your back, Blake! Sometimes I felt like the only sane, rational, intelligent person on this ship! Don't you see – that's why I needed that bolt hole: to get away from YOU! And a lot of good it did me." His tirade ended abruptly. He just stood there, a silent and angry and confused ghost.
"Oh, Avon," Vila protested softly, "we never knew you felt that way. But don't you see, it was such a burden because you wouldn't let us in behind your wall, so we could share the load. You CHOSE to bear the burden alone. I guess, in a way, that led to your death."
When Avon didn't answer, Blake stepped in.
"We loved you, Avon. That's not a burden, it's an invitation to share. We're partly to blame, I guess. We felt we couldn't tell you of our love, only try it to show you. You wouldn't let us under that thick hide of yours!" Blake was mad now. Only Avon's incorporeal nature kept Blake from grabbing the man's shoulders and trying to shake some sense into his hard head. Perhaps that barely-suppressed violence lent strength to his words and finally got through to Avon.
The ghost of the tech burst out, "Then I died for nothing!" He hung his head and half-turned from them. "Nothing," he repeated softly.
Blake stretched out one big hand toward him, soothing, "No, Avon. You learned something you can build upon next time." He waited for Avon to take the bait, hoping. Vila was looking at him wonderingly with huge hope-filled eyes.
Avon, brow furrowed, raised stricken eyes to Blake's, asking, "Next time?" Hope trembled on the edge of the despair in his eyes and voice. "You'll have to explain that, Blake. And it had better be good," he growled.
The rebel began cautiously, feeling his way through unfamiliar territory. "We…never discussed our beliefs with each other. It's obvious you don't believe in an afterlife, but I do. Sort of. I believe in reincarnation – that we keep trying, keep coming back over and over again till we get it right. I've always felt that we three were soul-mates. That means our souls recur together until we work out all the problems between us."
Vila interrupted, his eyes shining. "You mean, we'll be together again – next time? We'll see Avon again, in the flesh?" He ran down and stopped, quivering with emotion.
Blake turned to him eagerly. "Yes, Vila, that's it."
Avon still hadn't spoken. He stood quietly, turning this new idea over in his head. Finally he spoke in a very subdued voice.
"You're asking me to accept a lot, Blake. I've never really wanted to believe in anything I couldn't see or compute." Blake nodded and smiled at the man's pragmatism. Avon continued, "If you're right, we'll meet again." He seemed to get comfort from the thought, then went on, "That would explain why I'm here when I should by rights be space dust. So, what now, Blake? Where do we all go from here?" As in life, he deferred reluctantly to Blake.
"Vila and I go on without you. I suspect Vial will have to drop his Delta personae now and help me in your stead." At this, Vila reared up in protest, but the words died in his throat as he accepted the truth of Blake's words. Blake continued fondly, looking into Vila's eyes, "Of course I'll still have to protect him, but he'll be there to watch my back, too, just like you…used to do, Avon," he gulped. Pausing, he turned to the tech again.
Softly, he said, "I'm afraid your lot is to wait for us, however long it takes. As I understand it, we'll recur sometime in the future, together. I believe we'll live and love again, Avon."
"That'll have to do for now, Blake," Avon said quietly. "It'll have to do. There's nothing else for me to believe in, otherwise," he finished sadly.
He stopped, on the verge of speaking again, but as though afraid to say what he knew he wanted to say. "I…think…No, I'm sure…What I mean to say is, I love you both." He spoke hesitantly, but his voice gained strength toward the end. He looked relieved and serene then, more at peace with himself than his two lovers had ever seen him, even in sleep.
"I must go now," he said, looking them deeply into each of their eyes in turn. Protests trembled on their lips but went unspoken. "Goodbye, my loves. Peace until we meet again."
He stepped back into the shadows and was no more.
"He's gone," Vila cried, anguished. "Avon's really gone."
After another moment's silence, Vila turned to Blake and questioned, "Do you really believe we'll be together again?"
"Yes, Vila, I do," came his quiet, assured answer.
"Good." He laid his head on Blake's shoulder and sighed.
Blake put his arms around Vila and hugged him close. "We'll do the best we can for each other, but we'll have his voice inside, I think, guiding us still. You have the hardest part, though."
"Me?" Vila squeaked, pulling back to focus on Blake's face.
"You. You'll have to let go of your Delta façade. I always suspected you were more than you seemed. I guess Avon saw through you more easily than I. Can you manage that?" he asked seriously.
"I think I can manage it, with your help." He thought for a moment, totally focused on some internal monolog that Blake wasn't privy to. The, with a snap, Vila was back, nodding, whether to agree with Blake or to cementing a private pact with himself, even he didn't know. "Yes, I'll try, for you and Avon." He pulled Blake down to lie on the bed as they drew comfort from each other.
In the shadows, a brief glint flashed as Avon smiled, then disappeared.
B7B7B7
A/N: 10 non-existent points if you know the literary reference that I named Dorian after.