A/N: I suppose this could be considered an AU, but it does fit in and around the B7 canon quite comfortably.

As usual, I don't own any of these characters. I just mess with their heads for the fun of it.

Chapter One

Avon sat in the holding cell on a cot in the corner, watching the other prisoners with a heavy heart. His dark eyes were bleak, haunted by memories of Anna, dead now and beyond pain and terror. He drew up his knees and rested his rams and head on them, willing himself into unthinking oblivion and, he hoped, invisibility, as far as the other prisoners were concerned.

He heard the cell door open again. Yet another prisoner was thrust into the already crowded holding area, the last step before Cygnus Alpha. His mind was in neutral, his body numb, when a hand fell on his shoulder.

***

Avon plodded along the street, not knowing, not caring where he was. He'd started walking outside his crèche, but he'd paid no attention to his direction.

It didn't really matter.

Alone. No one knows or cares. His thoughts chased each other around and around and around in his head.

Going nowhere. As he was.

He vaguely remembered happier times. He'd been perhaps three or four when officials had forced his parents to part with their lively, playful, happy, dark-haired son. His obvious potential had been noted and it was determined he'd do better in the crèche, even though, legally, his parents could have kept him until he was six.

He remembered playing. He remembered laughing. He remembered his mother crying and his father standing grim-faced with his arms around her as officials dragged their child away, screaming for them.

They were dead now; he had no family to turn to. Even his brother, six years older, was gone, sent off-world years before, and not a word since.

It hadn't been so bad, in the crèche. Classed by age, but educated by aptitude, he'd gone far in classes, but was housed with his own age group. His intellectual superiority, though, made him mostly an outsider, even there. At least he'd know them, had history with them, however painful.

Now even that was over. "Graduation" meant his age group would be dispersed into the general population into predetermined jobs. Everyone he'd ever known would be gone. He just couldn't face it. He'd left the crèche and walked away into the darkness.

When he became aware that he was crossing an overpass, he had the impulse to escape from it all, forever. Why hadn't he thought of that before? It was so simple.

He climbed atop the grimy parapet. Standing there, staring down in the dark silence, at the pools of lamplight far below, he didn't hear the approach of another soul out late alone until he spoke.

"Hey, that's no way to go, guy!"

The dark-haired gangly youth turned slowly from his contemplation of the pavement several stories below the bridge abutment to face a younger blond boy leaning against a nearby light pole.

"I'm Vila Restal. Who're you?"

"Go away," came his flat reply. The dark opaque eyes swung away again, as though he were already dead.

Perhaps, Vila thought, he already is dead, in his own mind.

"Nope. I'll just stand here and wait."

Without turning his eyes toward Vila, the young man absently asked, "Wait for what?"

"For you to decide," came the infuriating reply, shedding no light whatsoever on the one-sided conversation.

Unaccountably irritated, Avon turned to the boy and demanded sharply, "For me to decide what?"

"Whether you really want to be a grease spot on Upper Isling Way's pavement," he replied equably.

"And what business is it of yours, anyway?" He was turning toward Vila now, with his whole body, inching away from the edge, just as Vila'd intended.

"None, really. I'd just like to know what a fine Alpha is doing jumping off my Delta bridge and making a mess of my Delta pavement." This raised the dark youth's ire, the hot flush of anger spreading into all the cold and almost dead corners of his mind and body.

In his soul, though, untouched, lay the ice.

Arching an elegant eyebrow at Vila, he stepped down and stood nose to nose with the blond youth, arrogance and fury warring across his dark face. "As an Alpha, I can go anywhere and do anything I want. And right now I want to jump off your Delta bridge. All right?"

Vila's kept his voice low and reasonable. "Do you really? Want to jump…to die?" His brow furrowed, as though he was trying to get his mind around a completely incomprehensible idea.

The youth rocked back as though Vila had hit him. His face closed. His ire died. Suddenly he gulped, looking fearfully at the edge of the bridge. Going sheet white, he sank to the pavement, leaning his back against the parapet, gulping for air.

Vila, with concern evident in his voice and actions, knelt beside him. "You okay, friend?"

"No, I'm not okay. Maybe I will be. Eventually." He looked up from the ground into Vila's warm brown eyes. "Thanks...I think."

"Why?" Vila began. "I mean, it can't be…"

"…as bad as all that.?" His eyes grew bleak again, his voice hollow and soft. "Oh, yes, it could." He went silent, staring off into the dark. Trying to see a future for himself.

He saw nothing.

Vila protested, "But…you're an Alpha! You can do anything, have anything. You said so yourself."

He laughed softly, a sound remarkably close to a sob. "Oh, yes, all the privilege and possessions one could want, but…" he hesitated, glancing sideways at Vila, fearful that he was about to reveal too much of himself to this Delta stranger, "no warmth, no…human touch. It's all so…cold among the Alpha upper class. I've no family. I was raised in a crèche, taught to excel at all costs, never question, never let friends get in the way of success in anything. Sterile covers it quite adequately. I…just couldn't take it any longer." He fell silent, head bowed, hands hanging limply across his drawn up knees.

A very perceptive Vila wouldn't let it rest there. "I doubt that's all of it. Something must have pushed you over the edge. What?" He knew he was begin pushy, but something about this dark-eyed youth drew him.

"I…graduated…from the crèche. I have to…leave…to make my own way in the world…alone. I just can't face a life alone!" The last word forced its way out through clenched teeth. Looking Vila squarely in the face, he demanded, "Can you imagine a life without anyone? No friends, no family, not even classmates? Can you?" He waited for Vila's answer, anger and desolation in his face and tension holding his body hostage.

Shocked, Vila burst out, "No, I can't! Deltas would never do that to each other! My family is huge, what with aunts, uncles, and cousins added in with my own brothers and sisters. There's always someone around to help you out." He drove his hand through his longish sandy hair. "It's hard to even imagine being alone and in trouble like you are, with no one to care, no one to help."

Vila sat quietly for several moments, ideas flitting visibly across his face. He opened his mouth twice to speak but left his words unsaid as newer ideas asserted themselves. Avon watched in puzzled fascination at the inner workings of this Delta's mind.

It was definitely a novel experience for the young Alpha. He'd been taught that Deltas were just workers, nothing more. He'd never actually talked with one, except to order him or her around. There wasn't any reason to talk to them, was there? They weren't very intelligent, had at most a very basic existence. No aspirations. No life.

At last Vila spoke, asking, "What's your name?"

The Alpha answered cautiously, "Avon. Kerr Avon."

"Well, let's see what we can do about your problem. Come on, let's go!" He stood and offered his hand to Avon.

Astonished by this sudden turn of events, Avon automatically grabbed his hand and stood up, fastidiously dusting off his clothes.

Vila however had already started off across the bridge, calling over his shoulder, "Well, come on!".

Avon shrugged, jogging to catch up, muttering, "Crazy Delta!"

***

Avon followed Vila through darkened streets, past tenements and closed stores, then up the steps of one apartment house no different from those on either side of it. While the outside was dark, the halls inside were alive with light and people.

Some folks sat talking on old furniture or perched on stair steps. Children played loud boisterous games wherever they could find room. Mothers hollered for attention, fathers debated, youths played their mating games in out-of-the-way corners.

Avon was stunned and fascinated and overwhelmed by it all. He felt like he'd been transported into another dimension.

Vila stopped by an apartment door labeled "RESTAL" and put his hand out to stop Avon. "This is home to my family," he explained. "It's almost suppertime, so there'll be a lot of us home. It's bound to be crowded and noisy, but you're welcome here. If it's all right, I'll introduce you only as Avon, a friend of mine. Okay?" He seemed uncertain whether he'd gone too far with this Alpha or not.

"Sure, Vila. Whatever you say, I guess."

Nodding, Vila opened the door and led Avon into a swirling sea of children and adults, all of it overlaid with the smells of incipient supper. Calling across the room, Vila hollered, "Mum, I've brought a friend for dinner. Okay?"

An older blond woman bearing a striking resemblance to Vila looked up a moment and waved a hand in assent. "It's no problem, Vila. See that the kids have the table set, will you?" Then she turned back to working on the meal.

"See? I told you it would be crowded! Come on into the dining room, I have to check on my little cousins." Weaving their way around a kids' card game and a heated argument between two middle-aged men, they arrived in the dining room in time to stop a silverware fight between an eight year old girl and a seven year old boy.

"Here! Stop that, Jake, Sarah. Mum said set the table, not use it for warfare! Now get busy, or she'll tan your hides for your!"

"Oh, all right, Uncle Vila," the girl said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I was winning anyway!"

"Were not!" the boy retorted, sticking out his tongue at her. Looking up at Vila, he said, "Okay, if you say so." Both children set to work as Vila and Avon turned away.

As the kids finished, the whole family began trooping in to take seats, just as several women, Vila's mother among them, brought large bowls and platters of food to the table. Vila led Avon to the middle of one of the long sides and seated them between a pair of giggling teenage girls who kept peering sideways at Avon and old couple Vila identified as his grandparents.

In a daze, Avon passed plates, answered questions, and joined in the laughter after jokes and outrageous puns were told. It was quite the most unusual evening meal that Avon had ever experienced.

Afterward, Vila offered, "Come back to my room for the bit, till things settle down. At least it's quiet there." Vila led the way down the hall and opened the last door. The room was small and crowded and lived in, to Avon's eyes. Certainly nothing like the austere, antiseptic dorm room he had shared with eleven other age mates at the crèche.

Vila flopped down on the neatly made bed, leaving the lone chair for his guest. "So what'd'ya think of the family?" he asked happily.

Avon blinked, unsure what was expected of him. "Uh, Vila, what am I doing here? You stop me from jumping off that damn bridge and drag me into a sea of your relatives and then ask me what I think of them? I'm confused. Please explain yourself before I get a headache."

Vila propped himself up on one elbow. Sucking in his bottom lip, he regarded Avon. "Well, it's like this. You're down because you're alone, right? In this house, you're seldom alone even when you want to be alone! The family is all around you, all the time. And," Vila went suddenly shy, "you're welcome to come here any time you want." He looked seriously at Avon. "I…want to be your friend. Between the family and me, you won't ever have to be alone for long, now, will you?"

Avon was silent for so long, just staring at Vila, that the younger boy was becoming acutely uncomfortable. Finally, Avon smiled, a sight that Vila felt he could get to like quite a lot. "Vila, I'd like that…to have you for a friend. Your…family is overwhelming in it's abundance and…exuberance." He laughed. "I'm not sure I can handle those two cousins of yours I sat next to, though. I think they were trying to put the make on me over dessert!"

Vila joined in the laughter. "You're right, they were! They'll get over it though. They go through these phases every other week."

Suddenly serious again, Vila sat up on the edge of the bed, face to face with Avon in the small room. "Avon, if I have my way, you'll never be alone again by choice. Think you can live with that?" The subtle emphasis on the word 'live' was not lost on Avon.

"Yes, I think I can, if…you'll let me be your friend too."

Vila nodded and smiled happily. "I think that can be arranged."