Chapter One

Vila watched as the young man bustled about the room, preparing drinks for them both and laying out a tray of finger food. It had been a long while since they'd actually been in the same room together. It seemed like years since Theon had left home. After that, he'd mostly seen his son on one screen or another. There'd been letters, of course, sometimes arriving out of order or mentioning things that had been explained in letters that hadn't gotten through at all.

War played hell with the postal system, as it did with pretty much all systems. Now that things were settling down, it was good to able to catch up with his son, though why this particular day, Vila wasn't sure. When the invitation came, it had felt more like an order than a request, which was seriously unlike his usually open son.

He looks so like his father, Vila thought. Same riotous hair, broad shoulders, powerful build. Quick mind. Charismatic personality.

Or perhaps like Tarrant, in a way. Maybe Blake looked like Tarrant when he was young. That thought brought a chuckle from Vila and an inquiring look from Theon, which Vila waved away.

Taking a sip of his drink as Theon sat down across from him,
Vila asked with mock sternness, "Are you going to tell me why you called me here, young man? Not that I don't love seeing you."

Theon didn't answer at once. Instead he offered Vila a plate of cookies. When he shook his head, Theon grabbed an oatmeal cookie before setting the plate down. It was one of his favorites from childhood, Vila noted, though realistically, any cookie had been Theon's favorite, if it was in reach.

"I want you to tell me about my father. My real father. Please?"

The young man looked up into Vila's shocked and distressed face and went on kindly, "I've known for some time that you weren't my real parents. It wasn't too hard to figure out. I don't look anything like you or mother, and I have a vague recollection of another life and other people that you never talk about." He paused, eyes going distant as he pulled up memories of long ago. "There was a golden woman, a dark quiet man, and a tall, curly-haired man. And…I dream sometimes about another man, older and bigger, but with the same hair, and there's a woman, too. I can hear her voice, but I can't ever see her." His warm brown eyes focused on Vila's face, searching for answers, and saw panic skitter across it.

Vila lowered his eyes and fidgeted with his drink, the former thief frantically seeking the words to answer his son's questions. Finally, he looked up and began what he hoped would be enough to satisfy the young man.

His face and voice were calm, now that the time had finally come. He'd feared this day would arrive, just not this soon. But then, what did he have to fear? Wasn't the past dead and gone? Shouldn't his son know about his own past, his own lineage? Vila hadn't spoken of that past since his wife had died. Indeed, no one else knew Theon's story. No one to be hurt. No one else was left.

No one but Vila Restal.

"The dark man's name was Kerr Avon, and the tall curly-haired young one was Del Tarrant. They…were friends of your real father and…lovers. The golden woman was Soolin. In your dreams, you're seeing your real father and mother, Roj Blake and Jenna Stannis." His voice took on a sorrowful tone that hurt Theon to hear. "They're all dead now.

Theon shook his head. "I'm more confused now than ever. Please, father, tell me the all truth. I have to know, to find out who I am. Please. It's important to me right now."

"I understand," Vila said, sighing and sitting back on the sofa. In a quiet voice, he began to tell Theon the story of Blake's Seven, from the holding cell on Earth to the final confrontation on Gauda Prime.

"…and that last year, leading up to their final meeting, was full of desperate and increasingly dangerous missions. Avon became manic-depressive. He…even tried to kill me once.

"And all that time, Tarrant watched Avon.

"At first, I think Tarrant fought Avon just because they were both Alphas, then because it was a habit with them. But after awhile, Tarrant began to back off, to try to pull with Avon instead against him. He came to care for Avon, but he couldn't get inside that brittle shell Avon pulled around himself. So, like the rest of us, Tarrant could only watch as Avon dissolved and fell into some private hell.

Vila paused, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He shifted his shoulders, like that would ease the tension Vila felt building up inside him, as his mind's eye reviewed the past, with the knowledge of what was coming.

Theon watched his father and felt sympathy for him. Whatever has about to be revealed, he knew it would be bad. He wished he could spare his father this. For a man of sixty-odd years, Vila Restal was still in good health, though his thin graying hair had turned completely white since Theon's mother had died. Her death had taken a lot out of the man.

"Soolin and…Dayna were so very young then. They should have been starting families, not facing guns and laying bombs." His frustration mounted visibly, as he shoved a hand through his sparse hair. "The rebellion took their youth, and made them hard before their time!

"When Avon finally found Blake, misunderstanding and betrayal and madness mounted until one of them had to die. We all watched in horror as Avon shot Blake three times. Blake…fell and Avon…snapped, I think. The last I saw, Avon was just standing, frozen.

"Then all hell broke loose as Federation troopers swarmed in and surrounded us. We were all stunned unconscious. I guess they were supposed to capture us, I don't know now. We woke up to find Blake's people mopping up the base and preparing to abandon it.

"Well, the girls, Tarrant, and I woke up. Avon must have gotten more than his share of the stuns, because he didn't come to until quite some time after we did. And he…he wouldn't talk or…or do anything. Just stared.

"The senior staff member of Blake's rebels brought you to me then, as we were preparing to leave." He looked up at the younger man who was listening in fascination to his story. Vila smiled briefly, warmed by the remembered first sight of that child who became his son and this wonderful, proud, fascinating man. "You couldn't have been more than a year old then, and were bawling your head off."

"'You have to leave us,' she said. 'You're too dangerous for us to be around. But you should take the baby with you.' 'Baby? With us? Why?' I asked her. 'Because he's Blake and Jenna Stannis' son and he's not safe with us anymore.'"

"So we left, the five of us and you. Tarrant was the most injured of us and couldn't walk, so we had to carry him on a stretcher. The girls and I took turns carrying the stretcher and you.

"That left Avon. There wasn't any way to insure he'd keep up with us and not go wandering off, so Tarrant held onto his hand the whole time, urging him to keep up, pulling him back when he tried to stray. Always holding onto Avon. Always." Vila seemed to be making some internal connections, as though telling the story again, after so long, had given him a new perspective. "I think that was the start of their relationship. Maybe it was the thread that Avon followed back to sanity." He breathed a sigh and was silent for a moment before continuing.

"Anyway, when we finally reached the spaceport, the others hid out while I explored the city and…got us some money to live on."

At that the other interrupted, cocking his head and frowning. "How did you get money?"

Vila chuckled. "Remember all those magic tricks I entertained you with?" He waited while the big man's mind roved back through the years. Then he snapped his fingers, a bright smile lighting up his warm brown eyes and bringing a happy, uninhibited smile to his lips.

"I remember! You made things appear and disappear! Like mother's favorite bracelet and…someone's wallet. I can't remember who."

"Those are part of what I did all those years ago. I was a thief, and one of the best, I might add. I picked pockets and sold what I could steal. We moved into a cheap apartment, got an illegal doctor for Tarrant, and just…existed for a time."

By now, Theon was well enmeshed in Vila's story and had questions of his own. "Did Avon ever recover from his trauma, father?"

Vila shook his head sadly. "Not really. I think…something broke when he killed Blake. The man had been Avon's pole star for so long that without him there was no direction to his life. Oh, he came out of his silence gradually, and started taking a hand at earning our living in the city, but he never resumed leadership of our group.

"And his mind…" Vila raised his head, a sad smile on his face. "Avon had one of the sharpest minds I'd ever run across. There was nothing he didn't know about computers and machines of every kind. He was a genius. Just a genius! Then…it was like a lighting unit that had lost part of its element. Still functioning, but diminished and darker. That was Avon's mind then." Vila paused, then said, "I missed him, Theon. Missed his brilliance. Missed his leadership. Missed his…friendship. It was like he died on Gauda Prime but the message hadn't reached his body yet." He shook his head, trying to dispel the gloom that had overtaken him.

"Anyway, by default, I guess, I was the leader. I can tell you it wasn't very long before I began to realize why Avon had so hated the role, after Blake disappeared." He gave a quick smile and tilted his head at Theon. He barked a short, sharp laugh. "Me…the one who'd always ducked responsibility, suddenly in charge of a cripple, two girls, a psychotic and a baby! The irony of it all." Vila drew in a long slow breath and sighed it out again. "A shame I had no one to share it with." His face went pensive as he considered where to go next with his story. Then he brightened and began again.

"You want to know what Blake was like, don't you?" he asked.

Theon's smile was answer enough.