A/N: Neither the characters from Blake's Seven nor Darkover belong to me. I just like to play with them!
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Standing just inside the doors to their private chamber, Avon watched helplessly as Vila stalked around their bed, glaring at him. "Look, Vila, I'm…sorry about that," Avon apologized, hoping to extricate himself from the situation. Vila rarely lost his temper, but when he did even Avon had learned to be wary.
"Damn it, Avon, I've been gone for five bloody months!" Vila exploded. "I thought you'd be eager to be with me again. I waited up for you and, when you didn't come to bed, I decided to go looking for you. I find you playing chess with that…man, on the chessboard I gave you. That hurt, Avon." His voice softened, though the hurt was evident. "There were some nights while I was away that I couldn't sleep for thinking about you and us. I was so lonely…"
"Vila…" Avon began, stretching on elegant hand toward his lover.
But Vila wasn't done. He sniffed, whether from an incipient runny nose or from distain, Avon couldn't tell. "You obviously weren't as lonely as I was." He left the implication hanging between them.
Avon huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Vila, don't be absurd."
Vila looked him directly in the eyes, which he'd been avoiding for some moments. "You don't see what that man is up to, do you?"
"What are you talking about?" Avon was confused. Verness? What did the tutor have to do with this? Perhaps he, Avon, had been insensitive, staying downstairs so long, but that was his own fault.
"He wants you," Vila said flatly.
"Verness? Wants me?" His forehead wrinkled with the absurd idea. The man was Serren's tutor, nothing more.
"Unless he's already had you." Vila couldn't help himself. All those months, dreaming, wishing, fantasizing about being home again, then this.
Avon glared silently at the one he'd thought he knew so well. Finally he spoke very quietly. "I don't believe you said that."
"If the shoe fits, Avon…" He couldn't back down now. It just wasn't in him.
"Vila, are you accusing me of being unfaithful to you?"
Put that way, so starkly, Vila wondered where he could possibly have come up with the idea. Maybe he was just too tired to think straight. "Look," Vila sighed heavily, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm tired and I just want to go to sleep." He shrugged out of his dressing gown, folded it neatly and placed it on the foot of the bed. Calmed slightly, he crawled into the cavernous bed.
Avon undressed slowly and quietly, climbing in beside Vila, hoping to make amends. After lowering the lamp flame, he rolled over and put his hand on Vila's shoulder. All he wanted was for Vila to forgive him and lie in his arms as they both slipped into sleep.
Vila jerked away, his back to Avon. "I said I wanted to sleep."
Avon had had enough. Maybe they would both be in a better mood in the morning. Pulling his half of the comforter away from Vila, he growled, "So, sleep then!"
The temperature in the room dropped considerably.
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When Avon awoke, there was no warm body beside him, only a faint impression in the cold, empty bed. He dressed quickly and went in search of Vila. He had slept little through the night, while Vila had snored easily beside him. There were words that he knew he should not have said, and words he wanted to say. Flinging on his pants and tunic, he hurried from the bedroom.
He found Vila, after searching the kitchen and library, in his own office with ORAC, surrounded by stacks of paper. "I think we need to talk," he said, pausing in the doorway.
"I'm busy, Avon."
"I can see that, but it can wait, can't it?" he said reasonably. No matter what business Vila had to attend to, it couldn't be as important as their relationship and this misunderstanding.
"No, it cannot. I was gone for five months; there are reports to be made, bookkeeping and all. If I don't do it while it's still fresh in my mind, I'll be sorry and so will you."
"A few minutes won't matter either way," he argued calmly. It wouldn't do, after all, to get Vila's ire up again. Heavens forbid!
"Avon, what we have to say to each other will take a lot longer than a few minutes." His implacable tone and arch look, almost of distain, seemed out of character for the Vila he knew, but not for the owner and manager of Avilla Trading Company. Maybe that was what was coming between them: Vila was still in owner mode, not partner mode. He hoped that was it.
Avon gave him a downcast look. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Well, so am I, but I still have to finish this." Finally, Vila threw down the stylus and pulled ORAC's key out. "Look, later tonight, after dinner, when we've both calmed down, I think would be a better time to talk."
"All right, then, after dinner…we'll talk."
Avon left the office, at least a little less upset than before and secure in the knowledge that the love they shared could overcome even this.
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It was late in the afternoon. Avon stood in the corridor outside Vila's office, wondering if maybe he should make another overture. He decided against it. It was, after all, Vila's turn. He walked down the hallway and was met by Verness coming from his own office/schoolroom.
"Good afternoon, dom Avon."
"Not really," Avon replied sourly.
"Oh? That's too bad."
"Look, Verness, I'm sorry about last night." It wasn't the man's fault he and Vila were on the outs; it was Avon's own actions that precipitated the quarrel. The tutor shouldn't have to feel Avon's wrath or impoliteness, too. "We'll have to continue that chess game though. I almost had you."
Avon's back was to Vila's office door and he didn't see it open, Vila standing in open-mouthed disbelief at Avon's words 'I almost had you', echoing in his mind.
Verness, though, was aware of Vila's presence and hastened to put his plan in action. Casually, he reached out, his hand resting lightly on Avon's shoulder, fingers tightening imperceptibly.
"Tonight, then?"
"Why not?" the words were barely out of Avon's mouth when he felt himself being spun around, facing a livid Vila Restal.
"So! I was right, then! Well, if that's the way of it, I'll just leave so the two of you can finish your 'game'!" he spat out.
Avon stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape, as Vila stalked away, back straight, head held high. He couldn't see the tears in the other man's eyes. Whatever Vila thought, it was wrong! Something was going on that was beyond his conception! Avon started to call out, to follow.
Verness stopped him. "No, let him go."
Avon turned clouded, worried eyes to the tutor. "But…"
"It's what he wants. Maybe he doesn't deserve you after all."
Avon was suddenly taken aback at the familiarity this employee had assumed after very little time of service. His gaze sharpened as he remembered Vila's words. Perhaps Vila had been right after all, but now was not the time to tell him so. They did have a 'date' to talk after dinner, didn't they? Best to let Vila let off steam until then. It could wait until then.
Drawing in a calming breath, he said, "Verness, I think our chess game will have to wait."
The man bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, vai dom."
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"Father! Uncle Vila's gone!" Serran stood, disheveled and anxious, just inside the libray's doors. He could tell from her trews and tunic that she'd been down at the stable, probably putting her new filly through her paces. She was developing into a horse trainer that would put Avon and his horsemaster to shame.
His head came up from the account book he was trying without success to read. His attention kept wandering back to Vila and their argument, trying to find a better way to say he was sorry. His eyes widened in shock as the girl's news. "Gone? Gone where?"
"I saw him in the stables. He rode out on the bay gelding and told me not to follow him!" Given her telepathic gifts, she picked up the tension between them. Not understanding, she'd asked Avon what was the matter, but he'd put her off with platitudes.
"Did he say where he was going?" he asked sharply. "It's getting late and the hill bandits have been too active for him to be away for long."
"No, but I didn't see any weapons other than the knife you gave him." She was almost in tears. This was her beloved Uncle Vila. Father Avon should DO something!
Seeing his little girl so upset did not sit well with Avon. He had to calm his own internal roil. If he became agitated, the child would be inconsolable. Projecting false calm, he said, "Well, he must have had a good reason. He'll probably be back soon. We have some private business scheduled for later tonight."
"I hope so," Serran said, doubtfully. She'd
"Don't worry," Verness said, making his presence known in the room and interposing himself between them. "Your Uncle Vila can take care of himself, I'm sure."
At that point, the evening meal was announced. Avon closed his book and rose, taking Serran's arm. Verness fell in behind them as the three of them went toward the small dining room for dinner.
During the meal, Avon spoke little and ate even less. It was pitch dark outside and Vila still had not returned. Avon was becoming more and more uneasy over his mate's absence.
At the end of the meal, Verness spoke up. "Perhaps, vai dom, since Vila is not here at the moment, we could continue our match from last night?"
With difficulty, Avon brought his thoughts back to the dining table. "I suppose," he said doubtfully, "but the minute Vila shows up, I intend to stop." He felt it best for the tutor to know his limits. Vila came first, no matter what.
"Of course. I quite understand." The tutor's downcast eyes didn't allow Avon to gauge his motives, only his words. There seemed a smugness about the man, Avon sensed now, or was it his imagination, brought on by Vila's words?
Avon watched the man, wondering, Do you understand? Really?
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Verness captured the white queen with a smile. "Check mate!"
"Hmpf. My game appears to be a bit off tonight, Verness. I guess I wasn't much of a challenge, was I?"
"You're always a challenge…Avon." The tutor watched to see if his employer caught the lack of title, distracted as he was.
Avon looked at him, saying nothing. He had noticed, but chose not to contest it. He did, however, resolve to reiterate in the very near future what this man's proper position should be.
Avon stood, packing the board and pieces away carefully. "I'm going to bed, 'Nes. I don't know what's happened to Vila, but if he hasn't come back by first light, I'm going looking for him myself!"
Ah, time for a little misdirection, the man thought. "I was under the impression he wanted to leave. You're just playing into his hands. Can't you see that?"
Avon stilled, a white knight in his hand. His voice was low and would have warned anyone who knew him that they were heading for disaster. The tutor didn't know Avon as well as he thought he did. Inclining his head, his eyes dark and dangerous, he said, "I can see more than you think, Verness. And I'll thank you not to interfere any more in our lives."
As Verness watched Avon leave, a glazed look came over his face, one common to only the most powerful of telepaths sending over a great distance.