"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories." - Stanislaw Jerzy Lec
Chapter One
Servalan was out of sorts these days. Sester was out in Sector Ten; she was angry at him for that. There was no one fun for her to play with since he left. It wasn't his fault. She was the one who had sent him out there to coordinate the Federation's efforts against the alien forces.
Argus was intermittently amusing but he was too serious for her taste. He was decorative enough. In her imagination, she could visualize how his muscles rippled as he moved. He would doubtless be vigorous and have great stamina. Servalan's lips parted in a predatory smile. She wondered how he was doing since they last spoke. He should have contacted her by now; she was expecting him to. He would have to soon. She would be very disappointed in him if he had not figured it out yet. Servalan looked forward to that moment.
Avon. Servalan's heart skipped a beat. She knew why she was really out of sorts. The Federation President missed her playmate. He was never far from her thoughts. Avon had become so much a part of her life and consciousness that when he was gone, she felt alone. She needed someone and he was the only one who had been able to fill that empty place since Don Keller had left her.
Servalan used her bio-metric print and opened a locked drawer in her cabinet. Her hands ran over a collection of multi-coloured data crystals, almost caressing them. These were a record of Avon's stay with her; every moment was precious. She chose one at random, went back to her desk and slipped the crystal into a reader.
The vid footage began. Avon was in the imaging chamber. He looked exhausted, as he normally was in the crystals. His body was encased in a sensory unit. His head was surrounded by sound-image projectors which fed images and visions directly into his mind. Sound amplifiers sent pounding impulses which strove to destroy his will to resist. A steady stream of drugs kept him disoriented and controlled.
Silent tears streamed down Avon's face. "No." He would have shouted but his voice was painful and hoarse, he was trying to shake his head in denial of the visions but no longer had the strength or energy to. He must have been screaming for hours already; desperately fighting a battle he could never win. Now the only thing he could do was react in helpless horror to what they were feeding into his mind. "Vila." The lie was becoming the reality.
Servalan's heart hurt for him at the time but it had to be done. She had hardened herself, it was for his own good, and hers; it was for them.
Servalan watched in fascination at the scene unfolding on her monitor. She had never known Avon was capable of caring for anyone except himself and the select few; his love for Anna had been a surprising revelation. That he still loved her and was willing to die with her; even after knowing she betrayed him had made Servalan look at him with new eyes.
As she continued to watch the footage, Servalan became even firmer in her resolve. She was determined to take everyone away from Avon, so that in the end, he would only have her. He would finally have to come to her.
Vila hated dark and cramped places. He had as long as he could remember. In his nightmares as a child, he would whimper in fear and curl up in a ball, hoping to make himself as small as possible so that the darkness would not notice him; would not come and take him. He knew later that it was foolishness. The darkness was not a living being; it could not harm him.
Much later, he began having another dream. In that dream, the darkness took on a face and a horrifying voice.
Vila. Vila. Vila.
"No!" Vila woke up in a cold sweat and bolted upright in his bed. The darkness of his cabin filled him with fear and he hugged his knees. His face was wet. He was shivering and his breathing was ragged.
It was that dream again. The dream which made him hate Avon. It was as bad as the other dream which haunted him these days, the dream where he beat Avon with his fists until he collapsed on the ground.
One was real and one was obviously fake, a construct of his increasingly troubled mind.
It seems so real. He could feel his fists hitting Avon; could hear the other man's grunts of pain as each strike hit him; could smell the sweat and blood from a man who knew nothing but agony; could see the deadness in Avon's eyes as Vila hit him again and again until he could no longer stand. Vila could feel his own rage, his anger at being betrayed. And a voice encouraging him; giving him suggestions. He couldn't remember.
Vila shook his head. How did the other nightmare turn into this one? He wasn't even asleep this time. This one seems so real. But it can't be.
Vila hated these dreams. He had made a decision to make a fresh start while on Pleasure City. The friendship of Ture and Allren had filled him with shame. They had inspired him to begin again in his relationship with Avon. Vila had planned to talk to him, to air out their differences; to bring into the open some ugly truths about what they had done to each other. But then these nightmares had started. Now he could barely stop himself from being filled with hatred whenever he was near Avon.
His head was pounding, it was making him nauseous. Oh great. That's all I need.
He needed a pain blocker but that meant going to Cally. Avon was with Cally; these days, wherever Cally was, Avon was bound to show up sooner or later.
I'll have to go when she's on her shift on the flight deck. Vila looked at his desk chronometer. Another four hours. What am I going to do until then?
"Avon, you don't need to follow me around. I'm not going anywhere," said Cally. She never thought that she would be the one to say that to him. Since they had made the breakthrough before leaving Pleasure City, he seemed to want to be with her, a lot. That development had only involved kissing each other; she was almost afraid what would happen when they finally did sleep together, in the intimate sense, not the literal-but-not-really-literal sense they were now.
Cally smiled reflectively, he was a very good kisser; at times passionate, teasing, insistent and gentle.
Seeing her smile, Avon asked, "Cally?"
"Sorry, I was thinking about something."
Avon was certain there was a subtext he was not getting. It wasn't surprising; he was never very good at that kind of interpersonal interaction. Sometimes Cally baffled him; she was like a puzzle he needed to solve.
"Avon, don't you normally need a period of solitude?"
"I don't understand."
"We've been together for the last forty-six hours. Constantly together."
"I didn't realize I was doing that," said Avon in dismay. "It just seemed, natural."
"A natural instinct? I'm surprised at you, Avon," she said teasingly.
A look of mild annoyance crossed Avon's face, and then the corners of his mouth lifted in a trace of a grin, "My last natural instinct didn't turn out too badly."
"No it didn't." She smiled in response, stepped closer and kissed him; he responded immediately. They were both getting quite good at this; not to mention it was very pleasurable.
"Argus. Are you going to let me in?" asked Reya. She was standing outside his cabin; he had not responded to her repeated buzzers. The door slid open and she saw him in the doorway. He stood aside to let her in and then he stepped out. She could almost feel the heat of his anger.
"Argus, this is getting ridiculous. You can't keep avoiding me," she said in an exasperated tone.
He turned to go without talking to her.
"Can we talk about this? Please?" she asked, putting a hand gently on his shoulder.
Without warning, Argus whirled around, grabbed her hand and slammed her hard against the wall. Her normal instinct was to protect herself and fight back but she knew something was wrong, she decided not to resist until she determined what was going on. Normally he would never hurt her but the last day or so, he wasn't being like himself. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the wall.
Argus held her immobilized. The look in his eyes scared her; it was still Argus staring back, but a completely different one. The intensity of his gaze was disturbing. He let go of her hand and backed away.
"Don't follow me," he told her in a strained voice. "Please. Reya. Not right now."
He turned away from her and almost ran, down the corridor.
Reya looked after him. There was something very wrong. She was determined to find out what it was but he had asked her to not follow him.
Argus arrived on the flight deck as Cally began her shift.
Good, Avon's not here with her, this will be easier, thought Argus.
His mind and emotions were tightly in check. The discipline learned during sessions designed to resist mind manipulation under torture, were very useful when dealing with Cally. As long as she didn't suspect.
She was busy making routine checks on the ship's systems with Zen.
"Cally."
She looked up. "Avon's in his workshop. If you're looking for him."
"No. I was going to ask if you would mind switching shifts. I'll take this one."
"Are you and Reya having another argument?" asked Cally.
Argus was startled. Of course you would guess that.
"How did you guess?" he asked wryly.
"History? Is there anything I can do?"
"No. Thanks. It's something we have to work out on our own." Argus felt uncomfortable lying to her. The truth was, he didn't know what was wrong, but he had a sneaking and troubling suspicion.
"Alright. Let me know if you do," she told him before heading for the steps.
"I will."
Argus watched Cally until he was sure she was gone. He checked further down the corridor, to make sure that no one would disturb him, then he came back and instructed Zen to use his special contact protocol.
Servalan appeared on the screen.
"What did you do to me?" he asked her with a frosty anger the moment she became visible.
Servalan smiled innocently, "Why, Commander, whatever do you mean?"
Commander.
The word echoed in Argus's mind when she spoke it; he tried to shake it off. His hands tightened in a fist. It felt as if he was uncomfortable in his own skin and he needed to break out.
Argus had been trying to keep himself contained. At first it was only a growing restlessness. Then it was an almost irresistible urge to act; something violent and destructive. It was a state which was disturbing in its familiarity. He had felt this way before; sometimes before a military campaign or mission. But this time it was also different. He felt like a bomb about to explode; but unable to.
He had tried to keep to himself; had fabricated an argument in order to isolate himself from Reya. The last few hours had been agony but his discipline had just been enough to keep it under control.
It had started shortly after he had talked to Servalan.
"You don't look well," she noted clinically from the vid screen.
"What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" he asked again in a tight voice, each word punctuated like a strike.
She smiled again; this time it was no innocent smile. It was that of a snake that had its coils around its victim and was squeezing slowly and deliberately. "Just a little demonstration. I believe the point has been made quite effectively. Did you manage not to hurt anyone?"
There was a flash of guilt in Argus's eyes as he remembered the look on Reya's face as he slammed her against the wall. He didn't answer Servalan's question as the implications of what she was saying, hit him. She had been able to control him, somehow; had been able to turn him into a dangerous killer without a target.
The conditioning. That must be it. The conditioning he had received as part of his specialized Federation military training; he was never told what some of it was meant to achieve. He seemed to be subjected to more sessions than was normal, even for an officer in the Special Forces.
There was never a memory of the sessions afterwards, not even a recollection that he had them, not unless he consciously thought about it, which he was never inclined to do. Now that he was thinking about it, he never remembered the sessions unless he was in the presence of someone who did remember, usually the people who were involved in the conditioning process or those who had the authority to command; people like Servalan.
No. This can't be. Have they been controlling me all along? Have I been a danger to everyone? I must still be a danger. I have to get away. I have to remove myself. Remove the threat.
Servalan could see the progression of emotions and realizations reflected in Argus's face as she watched him on her vid screen. She could guess what he was thinking; could follow the inevitable flow of emotions; anger, outrage, fear, determination, sacrifice. It was time to step in.
"You needn't worry. I do not have the kind of control you're afraid of. You don't have to kill yourself."
"Why should I believe you?" asked Argus warily, every word indicating his complete mistrust of everything she said.
"Because you won't remember this after we speak. I have no reason to lie to you."
Argus's face twisted in an unpleasant scowl. "It was the conditioning I received as part of my training then."
"To an extent."
"What do you mean?"
"Come now, Commander. Can't you guess by now?"
Commander. The word made him feel ill at ease again. "Zen!" Argus tried to tell the computer to record the conversation.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Commander. Not unless you want me to make you forget now. I can do it very easily and instantly." Servalan didn't even bother to add a tone of menace. The threat was very clear.
Argus hesitated. "Belay that, Zen."
The computer responded, "Confirmed."
Argus asked, "Why the charade then? If you had the ability to do this to me all along? Why go through all that when we were at Papos?"
"It is not that kind of control. The conditioning cannot make you do anything. It only opens up certain aspects of your character and makes them dominant; and suppresses others. You are more inclined to do certain things; more willing to follow certain orders."
Argus had a sickening feeling. "They made me a monster."
"Hardly that, Commander. You just became a more effective tool."
"A cold-blooded killer, you mean." Argus had always felt that he was; now he knew that it was even truer.
"If that was the requirement, yes."
"If I had known…"
"You would have refused? You did. Many times."
"I don't remember." He desperately tried to wrack his mind for even a sliver of recollection; but there was none.
"No. You wouldn't. Those memories were always removed. It would have been inconvenient to have you remember them. You're a killer with a conscience. They were never able to get rid of that weakness."
"I will stop you and the Federation. One day. I won't have to remember this to do that," he said with cold and deadly resolve.
"One day, perhaps, it will no longer be necessary to have people like you, Commander."
"Don't tell me you regret this. I won't believe it."
"It is one of the burdens of leadership, as you must know. To do things which are necessary, because to not do them, would be infinitely worse."
"So the end justifies the means?" he asked cynically.
"Didn't you already make that choice, Commander? When you decided to protect Avon?"
Argus felt sick. He had willingly and unwittingly walked into a trap; or he had never left it.
She continued, "The things the Federation found inconvenient have made you very valuable to me. Your conscience. Your sense of compassion. Your capacity for self-sacrifice. Without them, I would not have been able to extract that commitment from you. You are willing to do almost anything to protect Avon. I needed you to do that."
"You manipulated me, for your own purposes." His voice was hard.
"Are you surprised?"
Argus wanted to reach across and strangle her. His urge to kill had finally found its target. "I should kill you." He really wanted to.
"Stand down, Commander," said Servalan. It was the tone of command. "Don't do something you will regret."
Argus pushed down the growing anger. To his shock and dismay, the tension began to ease. The lesson was now complete.
"Was the agreement even real?" he asked her bitterly. It was a serious mistake thinking I could trust you, even a little.
Now that her point had been made, Servalan felt generous. She still needed him to believe in the agreement.
"That part of it is real," said Servalan.
"And the rest?"
"You should have been more careful. But I promise you, as long as you honour our agreement, Avon will not be a target for the Federation."
"Or you?"
Servalan smiled, "Or me. But there must be no repeat of what you did at Pleasure City. Or the next lesson may not be as harmless as this one. Now tell me where you are going that is so important."
Argus's lips formed a snarl. "I am not here to serve your interests, no matter what you do to me."
Servalan shook her head, "You still haven't learned. I am not doing anything to you. It is what you can do to others, which scares you."
"You cannot take the chance that I will hurt Avon."
"You mean that, you cannot take that chance. Let me see: Avon, Cally, and who else?"
Argus grimaced.
Servalan continued, "Be sensible, Commander. I am not giving you any orders. Not this time. I only want to know where you will be, in case I need to contact you."
He ignored her demand and said, "This arrangement does give you the right to dictate what I can or cannot do, outside of what I agree to."
"True. But while you are commissioned on a task for me, you will not pursue your own agenda."
"As long as I fulfill my commission, you have no say on anything else," Argus continued pushing. Despite her display of power over him, he could not allow her to gain control over his actions or that of his crew.
"You are not fulfilling your commission if your actions negate my purposes in sending you."
"Then you should state your purposes more clearly. Unless…in doing so, you're afraid that I would not have agreed in the first place?"
Servalan smiled and inclined her head. You are cleverer than I thought. She said, "Then I should be very explicit as to my goals the next time."
"If you dare."
"Now tell me where you are going next."
Argus hesitated. He had won this battle but she had also made her point. "We are headed to Sector Ten."
"To deal with the alien presence there?" she asked. This will be interesting.
"We will be doing that," said Argus guardedly. He was not about to tell her the primary reason.
"You should have told me earlier. We are supposed to be in this fight together. Or have you forgotten?"
"I will let you know if your help is required," said Argus.
"Very well."
Chapter Two
After talking to Argus and making sure that he only remembered what he needed to remember, Servalan sat at her desk, thinking. Things were working out to be potentially more entertaining than she had hoped for. Avon and the Justice were headed for Sector Ten. Argus would be meeting up with an old friend; though friend was probably not the word he would use.
Servalan smiled. Her investigators on Papos had been able to find out the identity of the mysterious woman with Sester. With the information they had gathered, it had not been difficult to piece together what had happened. It was serendipitous to have both Argus and Sester in Sector Ten. It served her purposes nicely.
Both men had to be handled carefully and with a certain degree of ruthlessness. Anything less and they would break out of her control. Servalan found it amusing that their natural counteraction with each other would serve as an exertion of her power over them. Sester would know right away. Argus would figure it out eventually, and then he would be angry and feel even more trapped.
In her revealing conversation with him, the one thing which she never told Argus, was that there had never been any danger that he would do any serious damage. The self-control had been part of the original conditioning program. It was necessary that as a dangerous weapon, he could not be released unless instructed to by those who held the control. To activate the weapon without giving it a task to perform was an effective form of punishment. In Argus's case, it made him hate and fear himself.
And now this weapon was going to get another lesson, in power and deviousness.
"Reya let me in." This time it was Argus outside of Reya's cabin, pleading with her to open the door. He couldn't understand why he had acted the way he had earlier. All he knew was that he had to make it up to her; had to beg her to forgive him for acting like such an ogre.
Argus continued. "Please, Reya. I'm sorry for acting like an idiot before. I never meant to hurt you. I would never do that. I don't know what came over me."
"She's not in there," said a voice behind him.
Argus whirled around and saw Vila; the thief had snuck up on him. Normally even the soft-footed Vila couldn't do that, but Argus had been too preoccupied with Reya to notice.
"It's never a good idea to sneak up on me, Vila," said Argus.
"I wasn't sneaking. Just passing by. Decided to be neighbourly."
Vila had tried to go the medical bay earlier to get some pain blockers. Avon and Cally had been in there; doing something he would have never thought he would catch Avon doing out in the open. Jealousy was now added to the other negative feelings he had been having towards Avon. Vila didn't want to experience these things but he couldn't help himself.
I need to find someone too, thought Vila. Why does everyone have someone to kiss except me? I wonder what the Atholian women are like. I hope they're not all like Reya. That would be scary.
"Do you know where she went?" asked Argus. Normally he preferred to keep his private life, private, but Argus was desperate. He knew that he had hurt Reya; had probably made her disgusted with him.
"She didn't very look happy," said Vila.
"I know that. That's why I have to find her."
"If you want some advice about women," offered Vila. "I always find that it's better not to upset them."
"That's a great help, Vila," said Argus. "As you can see, it's a little late now."
Vila thought for a bit. "What you need now is Vila's sure-fire damage control plan."
"Damage control plan?" asked Argus. Damage control was something he could relate with.
"Well, believe it or not, sometimes women do get mad at me. It's rare. But it does happen."
Argus didn't know Vila well enough to believe this or not. The thief did have a tendency to exaggerate, but he had seemed quite popular with the women on Pleasure City.
"What's this plan," asked Argus. "Would it work for me?"
"I don't see why not. Reya is a woman," said Vila. "Wait a minute. Why aren't you on the flight deck?"
"Cally and I switched shifts."
"Oh. Cally is on the flight deck now?"
"Yes."
"And where's Avon?"
"Probably in his workshop."
"I'll be right back," said Vila, rushing off.
Argus wasn't quite sure what to do next. Vila had not said where Reya was. I should keep looking for her. But Vila did say he was coming back. It might be worth listening to this damage control plan of his. It's got to be better than what I've been doing.
Solitude. He did need it; Cally had been right. Avon didn't understand this need himself. He had it from an early age, this necessity to be alone to think; to be at peace without the constant pressure other people's presence put on him. Interacting with most people confused him. They were not orderly or logical. What he saw of them often made him want to retreat more. Their inconsistencies bothered his rational mind.
It was not to say that he did not crave social interaction; but only in controlled, measured doses. That was, until Servalan. The forced isolation she had subjected him to had made him understand the difference between the solitude he needed and truly being alone; without friends, without people who cared whether he lived or died. He would have dismissed it before, saying that he didn't need people; he never needed anyone. But it would have been a lie; even from the beginning, he had always needed at least one person, whether it was his brother, or Anna. One person to care; one person he could care about.
Servalan had him imprisoned and tortured him for months and no one had looked for him. No one had wanted him, except to kill him. There had been a look of triumph on Servalan's face when she told him that.
But now he had Cally and the rest of the crew. They all cared about him; that mattered to him now. At first, when they rescued him, he had been afraid of being alone again. Even the solitude of his cabin reminded him uncomfortably of the isolation of the cell. When his mind wasn't actively occupied, he found that he couldn't face being alone; wasn't sure he ever could again.
The last few months of interacting with Cally and the others had shown him that he wasn't alone anymore. There were people who cared whether he survived or not; who valued him beyond what he could do for them; who wanted him to be happy and did not seek to control him. After Anna, he didn't think he would be able to find people like that again. And Anna hadn't even been real.
Being with Cally, sleeping in her cabin without any pressure, had provided a solace. Her presence was a comforting reminder that he was no longer alone.
Avon looked at the calibration tool he had been holding. He smiled wryly and put it down. He had been holding it for the past few minutes, not doing anything with it; just thinking and reflecting. Avon felt at peace. I needed this time. Cally was right.
Cally. A soft smile touched his lips at the thought of her. She had enabled him to enjoy solitude again, to not be afraid of it. She had known. In terms of human needs and interaction, she was the genius. Cally evoked feelings in him; feelings which he had been afraid to explore again since he thought he had lost Anna, and then later even more after discovering that Anna had betrayed him. Perhaps it is time again.
There was still one major obstacle.
Reya entered the workshop. She stood uncertainly, looking around her.
"Are you looking for something?" asked Avon.
"I was looking for Cally. I thought she might be here. She wasn't in the medical bay," replied Reya.
"She's on the flight deck," replied Avon.
"Oh. She's talking to Argus?"
"If they're together, then yes, I imagine they are talking."
"Oh."
Avon could see that she was uncertain about something.
"Is there something wrong?" asked Avon.
Avon was not the person Reya would automatically think of sharing something personal with, but before she thought about it she said dejectedly, "I wish I he would talk to me."
"The two of you had another fight," remarked Avon dryly. These two's constant friction was at once both irritating and amusing.
"I don't know."
"You don't know if you've had a fight?" Avon couldn't see how that was possible given the history of their interaction together. The one thing they should be able to identify without any difficulties, was if they were having a conflict. In fact, the default would be that they had another argument and Argus had done something silly again.
For some reason this conversation led Avon to think about Anna. He thought that their relationship had been special. Nothing he said or did ever seemed to bother her; she always gave the impression that she could see right through him, and understood his true feelings, despite his outward manner. But now he knew that it was all an act; he was a fool to think that kind of relationship was possible. A relationship that was based on truth rather than external appearances; where each one knew the other person would be willing to die for them, without having to say it.
He looked at the unhappy Reya. Even though he often mocked Argus's ineptitude and his uncharacteristic vulnerability in his relationship with her, Avon recognized that these two loved each other with the kind of depth that he once thought he had with Anna. Their love was very expressive and often explosive, unlike his with Anna; but where they were alike was that their love survived their own weaknesses. With each other, they were not afraid of being themselves; there was no desire to possess, each accepted each other for who they were.
Reya said, "I'm not sure what we had. It was silly. It was nothing. But he…" She was afraid to tell Avon what had happened; how Argus had almost attacked her.
"Perhaps it is better if you find Cally," said Avon. "I'm not the best person to consult on this."
"But if he's talking to Cally..."
Avon considered this. Her only other option was talking to Vila but she seemed to be implying that she wanted to talk to him.
"Alright," said Avon. Other than with a few people, he rarely made much of an effort at interpersonal interactions before; but Avon knew that his decision to no longer isolate himself, had another component, other than the seeking of company for himself. Avon was a man who lived what he believed. When he made a decision, there were no half measures; to be anything less would be a lie.
He cleared a space for her so she could sit down. "Tell me what happened," he told her.
"Well, we were talking about melee and jousting…"
"Let me guess, this had to do with the scenario you arranged for him on Pleasure City?"
"Yes. He seemed to enjoy it at the time; even though he did keep falling off the horse at first. And he won the tournament. He was very happy. He was magnificent." Her eyes were focusing on the past as she recounted the events. It had been a wonderful day. And afterwards, as befitted the knight who won the tournament, she had given him his reward.
"That hardly sounds like a cause for conflict."
"It wasn't. Not until later. I don't understand why he started getting angry when we came back to the ship."
"The scene in the teleport room?"
"Yes, that was the start. What he said didn't make any sense. Then he stopped talking to me and he deliberately started avoiding me. And then he locked himself in his cabin."
"That sounds like unusual behaviour for him. Has he acted this way before?"
"Never. He might avoid talking about things, but he never runs away from it. He's never tried to…"
The tone in her voice warned him there was something else wrong. "What did he do?" he asked sharply.
"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Reya was still very reluctant to tell Avon the truth.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me everything," said Avon.
"He was sorry afterwards. I could see it in his eyes. But there was something else there."
"Did he try to hurt you?" he asked her.
"I think I startled him. He just reacted."
"You don't believe that. He's too good to just react mindlessly. He already knew it was you."
"Can you talk to him, Avon? He won't talk to me. Every time I try, he gets angry."
"I doubt if he will listen to me," said Avon. "Relationships are not my area of expertise. I have enough problems with my own."
"He respects you, Avon. He'll talk to you. Please?"
Avon looked at her and sighed. A plea for help. How could he resist? He never had before.
"You're a fool." These words greeted Argus as he was exiting the wardrobe room. Avon was standing just outside, leaning against the opposite wall. He appeared to be waiting.
Argus said irritably, "Thank you for that observation. I already feel like one. I don't need you to tell me."
"What are you wearing?" asked Avon. He was about to address the issues which Reya had asked him to, but he couldn't resist.
"I'm trying to get Reya to forgive me. This was Vila's idea. He said that wearing less threatening colours would be better when I see her. He didn't think my normal colours were suitable. He said I always look like I'm ready to attack something," said Argus. He pulled on his shirt uncomfortably.
"And he suggested pink?" asked Avon, his eyebrows lifted in scepticism.
"Well, not exactly. It's the least threatening colour I could think of."
"I see. You're also an idiot."
"Is this your idea of help? Because it's not helping," said Argus grouchily. He was already feeling self-conscious and ridiculous. Avon's reaction told him that pink was most likely the wrong choice.
"You must love her very much," said Avon with sudden seriousness. He couldn't imagine someone being willing to humiliate himself like this unless he did love someone a great deal.
"I thought a little abject grovelling might be called for. Did she send you?" asked Argus as he re-entered the wardrobe room.
"Yes. She's under the mistaken impression that I might be able to help," said Avon as he followed him inside.
"Well, I won't tell her that she made a big mistake, if you don't tell her about the pink." Argus looked indecisively at the clothing racks, trying to decide which other colour was less threatening but would not produce a humourous reaction.
"I would recommend wearing your normal clothing," suggested Avon. "She fell in love with you, not a clown."
Argus turned to look at Avon. The other man's face indicated he was being honest, not critical. "I suppose you're right."
"Of course, I am. Interpersonal interactions may not be my forte…"
"You surprise me," said Argus with light sarcasm. He began taking his pink shirt off.
"Do you want to hear this or have you not finished with your witty remarks yet?" asked Avon.
Argus could see that the other man was trying, he said, "Go on."
"Reya seems like the kind of person who respects honesty, not entertaining displays of emotion. She only wants you to talk to her. "
"You think so?" asked Argus uncertainly. Part of him knew that Avon was right. Honesty had always been important in his relationship with Reya. "I think they expect entertaining displays sometimes. It makes them feel appreciated." Argus chose his normal vaguely military-looking dark shirt and put it on.
"You're talking about women in general?" asked Avon.
"Yes."
"I doubt Reya can be regarded in that category. Women in general."
"She's still a woman. Though she is a very special one."
"Spoken like someone with a completely subjective view," remarked Avon. He had a thoughtful look on his face, "Do you think Cally might expect entertaining displays?"
"From you? Probably not," said Argus.
"She would be surprised," said Avon.
"Shocked would be more like it. She might think there was something wrong with you."
"Probably," said Avon wryly.
They both exited the wardrobe room. "You're not bad at this," said Argus.
"At what?" asked Avon.
"The interpersonal stuff," replied Argus.
"You're still a fool for hurting her."
"I know that. I'm not sure what came over me. I don't understand it." It scared him that he could come so close to losing control.
"Do you think that it could have been something you ate or drank on Pleasure City?" asked Avon.
"It would be disturbing if it was. And dangerous," said Argus with concern in his voice.
"I'll contact the people at Pleasure City. See if anyone else had the same reactions. Do you remember what you had?"
"Most of it."
"Why don't you go to Reya and perform some abject grovelling first; while I do some investigating?"
"Couldn't I do the investigating instead?" asked Argus.
"Abject grovelling usually requires personal involvement," said Avon.
"You're a great help."
"You're welcome."