A/N: This story is Part One of Chapter Four of Thieves in Time. It follows Unchained Melody. Vila gives, Avon takes. Blake masters them all, especially Avon! Warning: mature content.

The usual disclaimer: I own nothing of Blake's Seven. I just enjoy messing with their lives.

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Vila sat unobtrusively in the back row of the courtroom. Normally, a trial such as this one would not have been conducted in the public eye but the Federation intended to make an example of the man, hence the open trial.

Vila had made it his habit for the past couple of years to sit in on as many open court cases as possible, figuring, and rightly so, that the more he knew of the judicial system, the easier it would be to avoid future complications. He watched, fascinated, as the system manipulated witness after witness to prove this defendant guilty. He shook his head. The man on trial was no more guilty of assaulting those children than he himself was. All you had to do was look at him to know the truth of it.

Several years earlier, he remembered from news vids, this same person had been exhibited as a reformed revolutionary, a symbol of what the Federation could accomplish, given the correct subject and state-of-the-art rehab techniques. He suspected that the present farce had decidedly political overtones, given that past, and was an attempt to discredit the man who had so obviously reverted to his former self.

Concentrating on the testimony, Vila didn't notice as someone slipped in beside him.

"There's a more interesting show across the hall."

"What?" Vila said, startled. "Oh, hullo, Brand." The slight, grey-haired man beside him, a friend since Vila had returned to Earth six months ago, could hardly contain his excitement, jigging in place despite the hard, courtroom bench.

"I said, Vila, that you'd get more out of the trial in the courtroom across the hall."

"Why do you say that?" Vila whispered, frowning.

"More in your area of interest, I think. You know this one's too political for you."

"And the other one?" His interest was piqued. Had he missed something important on the daily docket? Something Brand had picked up on?

The other man smiled smugly, pretending to be interested in his fingernail. "Oh, just some genius who tried to talk the Fed's banking computers out of mor'n five million credits and almost got away with it."

Something clicked in Vila's mind. He turned to his friend. "Computer genius, you say? What's he look like?"

"More your type than mine, I think. Kind of dark, you know." Now he had Vila's full attention.

"Dark? How do you mean?" Somehow Vila already knew the answer.

"Brown hair, dark eyes, sorta scary looking."

Vila sucked in a breath. Could it be…? He almost managed to hide the quiver in his voice, but Brand knew him well enough to see that something was upsetting his friend. "Didja catch his name?"

"Uh, Evan, Avon, something like that."

Vila stood. "Come on then and show me." Silently, he followed Brand out the door, his usual grace turned stiff and tense.

They slipped quietly into the next courtroom, taking seats in the back. Vila was almost afraid to look, but he had to. It was Avon and in the expression on the man's face Vila read fear behind the stubbornness. Avon was in more trouble than ever before. Vila listened as the Federation's best prosecutor hounded the dark genius, demanding to know everything. How did he accomplish the fraud? Who helped him? Where did he hide the money? An endless stream of questions. He watched as Kerr Avon sat in stony silence, refusing to answer.

Oh, Avon, don't you know what they'll do to you?

Finally, the prosecutor gave up, raising his hands in defeat. "All right, then, if this is how you want it." He turned to the raised bench where the tribunal panel sat. "The defendant has repeatedly refused to answer both in court and under interrogation. I have no choice but to turn him back to you for sentencing."

Vila drew a sharp breath, silently cursing Avon's stubbornness along with the Federation's methods. He watched the three Tribunal Council members conferring among themselves on their lofty perch. Then they stopped speaking and turned to face the room.

The senior arbiter regarded Avon. "The defendant will rise and face the bench." He waited, then spoke directly to the man standing before him. Avon's carriage was erect and defiant, even in the face of certain defeat.

"It is the decision of this tribunal that because of your refusal to cooperate, the maximum sentence will be passed on you. Therefore, it is our judgment that you be taken this day to a holding facility until such time as transport is available. At that time, you will be conveyed to the Federation penal colony on Cygnus Alpha, where you will remain for the rest of your natural life, without possibility of pardon or parole."

Vila saw an almost imperceptible slump in the set of Avon's shoulders as the sentence was pronounced. It took every ounce of self-control Vila possessed to remain seated, his whole being wanting to break through the guards and grab Avon, to hold him, comfort him, shield him from the result of his actions.

"Pretty stiff sentence, that," Brand hissed. "I figured an Alpha like him'd get off easier. But considering what else happened, I suppose he should've expected it."

"Whaddya mean?" Vila demanded, turning from the dejected Avon, being led away, to focus on the man at his side. "What else happened?"

"Oh, apparently, this whole scheme made some high muckety-muck bank executive look so bad, he committed suicide rather than face the consequences. Seems kinda stupid, if you ask me." Brand saw the stricken look on Vila's face. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yeah, sure. But listen, there's something important I gotta take care of." He turned to go. "Talk to you later…maybe."

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Vila stood in the back of the casino, waiting for the man he'd been told of while serving his last prison term. The man was quite high up in the Terra Nostra and, while the idea of dealing directly with him was frightening in itself, knowing what would happen to Avon if he didn't was much more so. Vila waited.

"You wanted to see me?" The soft voice startled him.

Vila spun around, trying to locate the voice. He spotted a form nearby, clothed in shadow. "Uh, yes, I did."

"Someone said you had an offer for me." The face was indistinct and likely to remain so, unidentifiable.

Vila gulped. He wasn't used to dealing with the 'Nostra at this high a level. He nodded. "That's right."

"I'm waiting."

The voice was bored and Vila hurried his words, fearful that the interview would end before he'd gotten what he needed. He cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, you see, there's this person I know, er, knew, that is, and he was convicted of bank fraud and sentenced to life on Cygnus Alpha."

Somehow, Vila knew the shadow man was surprised. "I know the one. Crying shame, it was. We could have used someone like him."

"Well, I…what I mean is, he doesn't deserve what'll happen to him." Vila squared his shoulders, trying to appear more confident than he really felt.

"I agree, but are you offering to take his place?" The shadow seemed amused by the idea.

"Me?" he squeaked. "No. But I am offering to take someone else's place, someone who might also be scheduled for transport to the penal colony." He held his breath. Would the 'Nostra go for the idea?

Suspicion colored the shadow's next question. "What's this embezzler to you?"

"N…nothing now, just a former friend. But he won't survive without help and he's too stubborn to ask for it. If I were there, you know, to at least make sure he's protected, he might have a chance."

"You still love him, then?" The question came like a stealth missile out of the clear blue sky.

Vila blinked and shook his head. "How'd you…"

"It's written all over your face, Restal." The crime lord was silent for a moment before continuing. "Hmm, there might be a way. I could arrange for one of our people who's being held to be exchanged for you, if you confessed to the crime he's been convicted of…for the right price, of course." His voice was thoughtful, and Vila could almost hear the wheels in the man's head calculating to the decimal what this service was worth to him and the Terra Nostra.

Vila nodded and pulled a bulging pouch from his jacket. He emptied it on the table nearby and the gems and credits sparkled even in that dimness.

"It's all the money I have. Approximately 100,000 credits. Will it be enough?"

The crimo boss nodded at the treasure. "Worth that much to you, is he?"

Vila nodded. …and more, he thought, keeping the information to himself, lest the man require more money, which he didn't have. He waited, a brittle statue that even a breeze would have shattered.

Finally, the shadow nodded again. "All right. Go back to your place. We'll contact you with the details in the next day or so."

"D…don't wait too long, please," Vila pleaded, daringly. "I don't know how much time he has before they transport him."

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Vila stumbled as he was rudely pushed into the holding cell. Now, as he thought back, he was beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea after all, confessing to a crime he hadn't committed, submitting to interrogation and sentencing, all to get himself where he now stood. He looked up and his eyes met the dark hollow ones of Kerr Avon and he knew in that moment that his decision had been the only one possible. Vila made no movement toward his former lover after giving a brief nod of acknowledgement. The other man turned away, pointedly ignored him. Whatever was going through Avon's mind, Vila was willing to wait. After all, they had the rest of their lives together, one way or another.

Avon, slumped dejectedly on a bare-mattressed cot, had been dumfounded when he'd looked up at the newest deportee and recognized Vila. It couldn't be, he thought. Vila wasn't even on Earth, the last he'd heard. Yet, here he was, a rumpled, older version of the man he'd last seen – and kissed – on the airport concourse so many years ago. So, things COULD get worse. Now, for whatever reason, Vila was going to share his life sentence. Well, let him. It was his own doing, whatever had led him to this cell. Avon simply accepted Vila's nod, then turned his back on the thief. Better the rest of the crimos here didn't know of any connection between them.

The next cell occupant was Blake, brought in unconscious and dumped in an undignified sprawl onto a cot. Avon recognized him from the resistance group and from that first, much publicized trial and sentencing. Watching the trial had brought back memories of a much younger Blake, mixed up with a red speedster. It had taken Avon longer to track that down in his memories, for the man that dissatisfied youth had grown into was a very charismatic figure.

From his vantage point, leaning casually against a dingy, grey wall, Vila looked about the cell, taking stock of his surroundings, of these people he'd be living with for the rest of his life. It was just another prison to Vila, and he was an expert on prisons. Though he had experience enough to pull it off, he knew Avon wouldn't accept him as any sort of protector, so he set about formulating a plan to insure the genius' protection without his realizing Vila's part in it. And that curly-haired firebrand could be just what he needed.

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The LONDON was only a few days out from Earth when Vila's plan fell into place, quite by accident.

"He needs you help, Blake, now!" The thief tugged on the larger man's sleeve, indicating the three toughs who were just following Avon into the cleansing unit, desire and mayhem on their faces.

"I'll take care of him," Blake reassured Vila, wading through the other prisoners.

The dark-eyed embezzler was backed against the shower wall, doing his utmost to appear unruffled in the face of certain disaster. He closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them again as the toughs shuffled closer. There was a movement in the doorway and a fourth, then a fifth person joined the group. Avon recognized the rebel prisoner from a previous conversation, then saw Vila cringing in his shadow.

Blake's sheer physical presence was felt by even these unlettered murderers, before he spoke. They stopped their advancement and turned, eyeing Blake like jackals encountering a lion.

The thief peeked around Blake's shoulder, locked eyes with Avon for one brief instant, then ducked back into the shadows. Blake's possessive tone rumbled in Vila's ears as the man warned Avon's would-be assailants, "Shove off, lads, this one's mine!" Blake glanced behind at Vila and arched an inquiring eyebrow at him, to be answered with a quick, sharp head movement before the thief moved off, disappearing into the crowd outside the room's door.

Avon determined to ignore both that cryptic exchange and Vila. As the last of the three thugs left the room, he strode over to Blake, demanding, "Why did you do that?"

Unperturbed by the glower Avon cast at him, he said mildly, "I thought you were in trouble. Would you like for me to call them back?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Avon bristled. "I certainly don't need your protection."

"You're welcome," said the rebel, cocking his head in amusement.

"I may owe you, Blake, but I'm not happy about it." Avon fairly steamed. He didn't need anyone's help, certainly not that of this…this bleeding-heart rebel.

"No one is putting you in debt, Avon. And as for being unhappy, well, that's your problem." He shrugged, turned and left, leaving Avon standing, fuming, alone in the shower room.

After that, Avon had been marginally accepted in Blake's core of prisoners, though Nova, Gan, Jenna and Vila made up the heart of the group. Avon kept telling himself that it was what he wanted. He needed neither their aid nor their friendship. He was better off alone. That way, no one could betray him.

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A/N: Reviews would be welcome!