A Man Beyond Helping
Written for the prompt : Blake's 7, Avon, since Blake
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Cally watched Avon, concern in her eyes, although she'd look away as soon as he turned to face her, mask the worry behind questions or answers or details, minutiae that she knew he would deal with. Let him deal with the day to day, the humdrum and not the reality of the Liberator minus such a big part of its crew, minus Blake.
There was a gaping hole in everything left by Blake. Purpose, drive, sentiment, they'd all been Blake's. He'd been the one to whip people to a frenzy, the one to give hope and aspiration and dreams. His absence hurt like a festering sore.
She imagined it would feel worse still for Avon. Avon who had wanted none of it, who'd isolated himself in self-interest to avoid being hurt again. She'd never dared to press and try to find out more about his past, but she'd always been able to feel it there lurking like a tiger, waiting to leap out and devour Avon when he least expected it. He'd built the shields high, stubbornly resisted all of Blake's attempts at conversion for so long.
She didn't know how Blake had finally broken through the self imposed isolation or why Avon had let him. She didn't know how Blake worked his way so deep or why despite his seeming resistence and objections, Avon had followed his lead so readily. Avon, the master thinker, the man who saw all the options and would analyse them through and weigh the consequences, had sunk his faith in Blake against all expectations.
Now Blake was gone. Blake had deserted them all and left them to fight alone, to struggle on and as Cally looked at Avon now, all she saw was a man bereft of hope, a man on the suicide mission he'd always accused Blake of following. She saw a man beyond helping.
