A/N: I don't own any of these Blake's Seven characters, but I do enjoy messing with them.

"Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?

Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of wine?

……..Rod Stewart

The corridor was silent and empty outside Avon's room. I wondered what my reception would be. Avon was newly out of Liberator's medical unit, over Cally's protest. He would recuperate in his own room, thank you very much, not the sterile med unit. Besides, he wanted his privacy, with nobody poking his nose in every few minutes to see how he was!

And here I stood, doing just that.

Not that I felt so good either. Our "adventure" had left us both much the worse for wear, though Avon admittedly got the worst of it.

The landscape we teleported into was parched desert, just over a rise from our destination, a rebel base and possible alliance. Our beam down was a hit-and-run thing for the Liberator. Come in fast, make contact, beam us down nearby, leave fast. The Federation was too close on our heels to linger over niceties.

But it all went wrong. Shortly after our "down and safe," all hell broke loose. We never really saw the base, just dirt and debris flying through the air, and the blackened crater left behind by a Federation raid.

Avon's solution was to walk to the next rebel base in the string that we knew of. To my protests he turned a cold eye. We couldn't contact either our own ship or the rebel base, not could we wait around for an all too likely Federation mop up squad.

So we walked.

It wasn't too bad at first. The twilight was comfortably cool and lit for awhile. The barren desert didn't impede us. Of course, talking wasn't one of Avon's hobbies, so, after awhile, I was silent too.

At full dark we stopped, built a small fire for warmth and company, and prepared to spend an uncomfortable night.

It was really rather pleasant at first, except for my stomach's occasional grumbling. Avon kept his own company of course, just staring into the fire. We knew there wasn't any wildlife to worry about, aside from man. We should have set watches, I suppose, just in case our small fire attracted anyone, but I guess we were just too tired to think straight.

As the temperature dropped, though, and our immediate supply of things to burn was used up, we found a need for warmth. As the last of the fire died away and the cold took over, we each curled up as best we could to sleep.

After a time, reluctantly, I cleared my throat and asked, "Avon, you cold?"

His low voice came out of the darkness, "I've been warmer."

"Do you suppose we could, you know, snuggle up? For warmth like?" I didn't really expect a positive response. To my surprise, I heard a rustling and crunching, then felt Avon cozying up to my backside. I sighed as his warmth hit my back and his arms folded around me.

"Better?" he whispered in my ear.

"Oh yeah," I replied. Shortly, we both slept.

It was just graying on the horizon when Avon woke me.

"We've got to get moving," he said, as we stretched stiffened muscles and brushed odds and ends of the landscape off our clothes. "We'll have to make our marches at the beginning and end of the day, then hole up during the hot part of the day."

"Thanks," I said, staring into Avon's eyes.

"For what?"

"You know, spooning last night. It was like old times, almost," I replied.

"Well, it made sense at the time," he said dismissively. "Let's get moving." And he started off, following the beacon signal to the rebel base.

As before, we walked in silence. I didn't know what was occupying Avon's thoughts, but I was remembering a time when we were much closer, before Blake disappeared and everything began to come apart.

Almost from the start, Avon and I'd been lovers. At first, I think it was purely a physical thing—need and response. But it had gradually developed into something more. Avon and I of course didn't discuss it. It just…happened. He still treated me like a Delta in front of the crew, but, on raids or in dangerous situations or in bed, it was a different Avon and Vila. I came to depend on Avon, 'cause I knew I'd always be safe with him.

Then Star One changed everything. It became an obsession with Blake and a major source of tension among the crew. Even Avon and I were at each other's throats. Finally it got to be just too much, and he ordered me out of his bed—forever!

I knew I still loved him, but that ice and fire façade allowed me no openings to apologize, to reclaim my place with him. And things just got worse after Blake was lost and Tarrant came. Dayna was OK and fun to be around, but Tarrant! With his obvious Alpha class arrogance, he wouldn't take anything from anyone. He was always lording it over me, pushing me, deriding me, and Avon mostly let him. That's what hurt most—having him coldly watch what Tarrant did to me.

When Avon commanded me to come along on this mission, I figured he'd want locks picked, but I hoped I could find some way to heal the breach between us.

Walking in silence began to wear on my nerves. I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and alone. All I could do anything about was being alone.

My boot kicked up something in the sand. I bent to pick it up and found a long thin piece of wood with a sharp triangle of metal on one end and ratty looking feathers on the other.

"Avon, look what I found. What's this, do you suppose?"

Avon slowed and turned. Taking the thing out of my hands, he turned it over curiously, then handed it back to me.

"It's an arrow. I saw Dayna use a bow and arrow on Sarran and once I saw one in a museum when I was young. A people called Indians used them long ago on Earth to hunt with. It's a projectile, like a bullet," he lectured. "I remember they also used it as a symbol. If one group of Indians wanted to declare war on another, they sent one of these, broken in half, to the other group." With that, he lost interest, turned, and walked on.

Scavenger that I am, I tucked the arrow into my belt and followed.

We walked on endlessly, it felt like. The sun grew hotter and the landscape began to shimmer around us. I was glad I'd chosen a light colored outfit for the mission, but couldn't see how Avon was coping with the sun in his usual black clothing.

Just as I thought I couldn't go any further, we topped a rise and saw a small sheltered valley below us. The rocks piled there would give us shade, anyway, even though there was unlikely to be water.

As we descended into the bowl, something felt…wrong. Then I had it: there was no sound in the area. I mean, there'd been distant bird calls, strange rustling and cracklings everywhere since we teleported down. We'd gotten used to them and no longer heard them consciously, but their absence was now loud as thunder to me.

I think Avon must have noticed too, because he was looking around suspiciously when the attack came.