XENON EXPLORATIONS
Xenon Base still seemed strange to Vila as he roamed the deserted corridors, poking curiously into storage and machinery rooms. Occasionally he found interesting stuff. Some he noted to tell the others about (though Soolin probably already knew about a lot of it), but some he kept to himself.
One thing he'd come to like was the lighting system on the base. It wasn't that he was afraid of the dark, exactly, but he did prefer light. So, he'd been pleased to find he could simply ask for the lights to come on, could even, he found, request its level, if he chose. That eliminated the need to go groping along unfamiliar walls in the dark seeking a control panel or switch.
Vila, always the thief, also enjoyed the variety of locks he found. Obviously someone, probably Dorian with his enormous life span, had enjoyed tinkering with locking devices. The sheer variety of them was a delight to Vila's lockpicking soul. Of course none of them required much time for him to figure out and open, he enjoyed the diversity nonetheless.
His usual pattern had become to pick a corridor and investigate all the rooms off it, up one side and down the other. He amused himself by picking the different locking mechanisms as fast as he could, then opening the door and asking for lights. Usually an empty room greeted him, though no always.
The last door on this particular corridor had an interesting, if simple lock and was opened quite quickly. He was congratulating himself on his speed even as he called, "Lights!"
"Do you make a habit of breaking into everyone's bedroom or am I special?" cam a low dry question from the bed, where Avon sat, knees drawn up, in the corner – previously in total darkness.
Now, Vila had known Avon a long time, even before the London, when they'd occasionally combined skills for, oh, one thing or another. Finding him brooding alone in a dark room was atypical even for him. Though they'd had their differences over the years, especially on the Liberator, Vila still considered himself Avon's friend. So, he butted in, where the rest of Scorpio's crew would have feared to tread.
"Uh, sorry, Avon. I was…exploring. I've found the most amazing things," he enthused into Avon's silent stare.
A faint smile tugged at the tech's lips. "I presume the…luxuries now reside in your room, especially the drinkable ones."
"Well, couldn't let them go to waste, could I?"
An uneasy silence ensued, with the thief still standing in Avon's doorway.
Finally the tech broke it. "If you aren't going away, at least come in and shut the door," he invited, surprising Vila no end. Avon had never been a sociable person and had gotten even more so of late...Since we lost Cally, Vila thought.
He did as instructed, curiously eyeing the tech's room. As he expected, it was stark and bare of personality, almost as if Avon were only camping out here, in someone else's room, and expected to move on too soon to alter his surroundings to his personal tastes.
Vila's own cabin, by contrast, was filling up rapidly with comforts, things he'd found or created for himself. A prominent liquor cabinet belied his real stash of choice potables. A downy comforter covered his bed and the pillows, of which there were many, were colorful and variously textured. The walls were becoming cluttered with art and miscellaneous 'pretties' he'd collected.
He spotted a fairly comfortable chair, slipped into it, and waited for Avon to establish the tone of their meeting. He'd long ago learned that Avon would have his own way in most things and had come to accept that attitude.
Finally, when he could bear the silence no longer, having milked every detail from the room and gotten no more hints of Avon's mood than his few words and downcast eyes, Vila braved the conversational waters with, "Uh, Avon?"
"What?" the tech answered, in a dull voice devoid of life and expression.
"Are you all right? I mean, just sitting in here in the dark, like that, I thought, maybe…something was bothering your…or something." He ran down in the face of Avon's non-reaction. A flash of insight hit Vila, the kind of intuition that had, in the past, seemed miraculous, but was really an amalgamation of his observations of the world around him, blended with his knowledge of people, and set by recent events. "Is it…Cally?" he ventured, hesitant to mention her name when Avon hadn't, not once after he'd proved her dead and rescued ORAC on Terminal.
Vila couldn't miss the pain that flared in his friend's eyes before Avon avert his head, staring away form Vila at…nothing, really.
"You know I'm sorry we lost her. I miss her too, you know," he offered kindly, only to meet with Avon's barbed reply.
"Well, you're partly responsible. Save that damned pilot instead of…her," he snarled.
Vila burst out in his own defense, "That's not fair and you know it! The place was crashing down around us. Tarrant and I barely got out alive. I never even saw Cally, Avon." His voice sank to a much softer level. "I'd have brought her out if I could have. You'd know that, if you'd stop to think about it."
A heavy, weary sigh answered him then. "I know Vila, I know. It's just…I miss her so." He gestured around at the sterile room, but Vila felt he meant the whole base when he said, "Thin…is all so…empty. There's nothing of her left. She's gone as if she never existed."
That soft voice pierced the thief to his very soul. He ose unthinking from his chair and perched warily on the edge of Avon's bed, knowing the tech would view that as an invasion of his personal space, but needing to be close to Avon.
"No, Avon, that's not true. We all have our memories of her, and you," he reached into one of his many hidden pockets, proffering something in his closed hand toward the grieving man, "have this."
Wondering and wary, Avon presented his flattened palm to Vila, who released his treasure and withdrew his own hand, waiting quietly for the tech's reaction.
Avon pulled his hand back and examined the object closely, a suspicious brightness to his eyes as he lifted his face to Vila.
"Where…how?" he asked.
Now Vila was embarrassed but he couldn't back down. "I made it a practice, on the Liberator and before even, to steal something everyday. Oh, I usually put it back before any of you knew anything was gone, but…that last day…I never had a chance to return…that to Cally."
"And you've been carrying it around with you ever since?"
He nodded soberly. "Yes. It…made me feel like she was…alive, waiting for me to return it to her. Gods, how I wish I could, Avon."
They both stared at the small silver locket and chain reposing in Avon's open hand, and each carried different memories of it.
Vila remembered it as her favorite item of jewelry. She'd shown it to him once, on a late watch they'd shared. He asked why she wore that one piece so often, and she'd smiled and taken it off for him to look at. The oval of silver was about one-half by one inch, with two intertwined roses embossed on the cover. On the back were the words, 'To my beloved. Ever touching, never parted. Avon.'
He'd looked up in surprise, to find her still smiling glowingly. "He gave it to me after the first year on the Liberator, after…we became lovers."
While Vila had noticed Avon's preference for her company and a growing protectiveness that he privately felt the fierce little Auron scarcely needed, he hadn't known they were lovers and was also quite frankly surprised that Avon was capable of the deep romantic feeling revealed by the locket. Inquiring and receiving permission, he opened the tiny thing to behold a hologram of each inside, looking as though into each other's eyes. He'd closed it then and handed it back, thanking her. For days afterward he'd pondered their relationship and finally decided that it wasn't any of his business and anyway, anything that kept Avon happy was all right with him.
Avon was also lost in memories from the past. Opening the locket, he stared at Cally's image, so fresh and alive. His mind flew back to the night he'd given the locket to her. He'd planned the gift for weeks, enlisting ORAC's aid with the holograms and finding a jeweler planetside who could make what he'd envisioned as quickly as he needed it. Than accomplished, he found a small antique box lined with black velvet in which to present it. Then he only needed the proper occasion and setting, which he also soon found.
It had been a hard day following a series of tense encounters with the Federation, which had all the crew members at each other's throats. Vila even was avoiding everyone. Jenna and Blake, usually pulling together, couldn't speak a civil word to each other. Gan just receded into the background, becoming as invisible as one his size could manage. And Avon lashed out at everyone impartially.
At last, the crises all past for the moment, they all agreed it was time to go to their separate corners and cool off – alone. Leaving Gan, by his own suggestion, alone on the flight deck, the rest had slipped out, intent upon relaxing or unwinding or killing some inanimate object that couldn't fight back.
Avon went directly to his cabin, showered, changed into soft silk shirt and pants, and gathered up several items, intent upon apologizing to Cally, anyway, for his sharp tongue and behavior over the past few days. Just shedding his usual leather armor had somewhat lifted his black mood, and the prospect of what he was planning almost had him whistling, though if he had done so, he was sure the rest of the crew would have had him committed as insane!
Coming unobserved to Cally's door, he knocked quietly. For a moment he though she wouldn't answer. Though he'd learned to pick locks from Vila long ago, he still felt uncomfortable opening doors upon private quarters aboard the ship. He was within a second of turning away in disappointment when the door slid open.
Cally stood there, her hair damp and curling wildly about her head, wrapped in her favorite turquoise dressing down, a color he admired on her.
"Avon," she greed noncommittally, not knowing that his mood had turned gentler. She saw that he carried a tray covered over with burgundy napkins, so she stood aside to allow him entrance.
He crossed to a table with two chairs and set his burden down with a flourish. Please, my lady, be seated," he requested of the bemused woman.
She smiled and complied, whereupon Avon captured her hand and brought it to his lips for a brushing, gentle kiss that sent shivers of delight down her spine and caused an escape of bubbling laughter.
Turning to the table, he dramatically withdrew the covering, revealing an iced champagne bucket with a black corked bottle peeking out, two crystal goblets, and a dark wooden box. Cally's curiosity sparked from her eyes as Avon picked it up and presented it to her on his two open palms. She accepted it, beaming up into his dark eyes.
"What is it, Avon?" she asked.
With a gesture, he smiled and replied, "Well, open it and find out."
Lifting the catch, she raised the cover and peered inside, to see the silver locket and chain reposing on the black pillowed velvet. "Oh," she breathed, "it's beautiful, Avon."
She did, paused while reading. Then, quickly putting the box down, she sprang up from her chair, and hugged the startled Avon fiercely. He turned her face up and kissed her lips tenderly.
Several moments later, he gently sat her down and said, "You might also like to look inside."
"It opens? Oh, of course, I see that now."
Her reaction was all he'd hoped it would be. Her eyes shone with delight and love, all for him. He wondered if there was anyone else in the universe who could so warm his very core with just a look. He momentarily caught an echo of Anna Grant's laughter, but pushed it away. She was dead and nothing he could do would bring her back. He'd resolved to make regret as small a part of his life as he could, so he set about enjoying this moment with his whole being.
"Avon, this is the most beautiful gift I've ever received. Thank you. I'll treasure it always, as I treasure you."
From then on, the evening had proceeded exactly as he'd hoped.
* * * * *
Avon smiled to himself as he sat holding the locket, with Vila still sitting on the edge of his bed. Surfacing from his trip into the past, he turned and focussed on his friend.
"Thank you, Vila," he said simply, the grim look gone from his face and something alive in his eyes that hadn't been there just a short while before. It was enough.
"You're welcome, Avon. Pleasant dreams then." With that he stood and left the tech's room without a backward glance.
If he had, though, he'd have seen the true smile, so rare for Avon, spread across his face like sunshine after the rain. For awhile at least the tensions and increasing pressures of simply surviving on the run were pushed into the background as Avon remembered and loved and lived. For awhile at least. For awhile.