It was Soolin's turn to check on 'Veritas', but she decided to drop in on Vila first, to see how he was doing. The strain of the last six months was evident to her eye. Vila grew quieter and thinner by the day, just as Tarrant was getting strung tighter and tighter, worrying about Vila.
She was surprised to find both Dayna and Tarrant already in Vila's office.
Looking up, Vila smiled a welcome, though it was just a tiny lift of the corners of his lips, gone instantly. "Good, I was just about to send for you. Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair but, as was her habit, she crossed to his desk and hitched a hip up on it, preferring this more ready stance in case of trouble.
"So, what's the subject of this meeting, as if I couldn't guess," she asked coolly, her head tilted, face serious, a quirk of her lips showing the humor she was viewing the moment with.
Tarrant flashed her a high voltage smile briefly. "Avon, of course," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "What else would involve all of us?"
He doesn't even try to conceal it, she mused, wondering what Vila made of that. She sighed to herself. Vila's habit of not noticing what made him uncomfortable was a source of much discussion between her and Dayna.
Dayna jumped in to defend Avon. "Be fair, Tarrant, he is our concern. It's because of us he's in this situation."
Tarrant turned on her, his voice loud in Vila's small, private office. The small bare room was his hideaway when all the bureaucracy and endless decisions became too much for him. His hands clenched into fists, rigidly held at his sides.
"No, it isn't! We've already helped Veritas," he accented the name intentionally, "more than even Avon would have expected! There is only so much we can do for this stranger."
"He's not a stranger to us." Vila put in sadly. "We are strangers to him, though. He told me last night he felt lonely here because everyone else had 'old friends' except him"
Tarrant went still, bending his head toward Vila, trying to catch his eyes.
"You talked to him last night? First I've heard of it. And did you two get to know each other better? Huh?" An accusing tone had eeled its way into his voice and a glower settled onto his face.
"That's not fair, Tarrant!" Dayna burst out. "What right do you have to accuse…"
Vila held up his hand and Dayna's outburst died, the young woman subsiding into her chair.
"He has every right, Dayna," Vila said calmly, "but he hasn't cause, in this case." The last he aimed directly at Tarrant, who flushed and looked down, unable to bear the look in Vila's eyes.
"So," put in Soolin, intent on keeping the peace, "besides being lonely and resenting our 'protective custody', what's new with Veritas to cause this little meeting, Vila?"
Vila was silent a moment, contemplating his next words. Finally, he raised his eyes, taking in all three of them. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to say. I…think we should keep Veritas' true identity to ourselves…forever."
"What?" "You don't mean…" "How can you…" They were all astounded. He waved them down and silent before continuing.
"You three only knew Avon a short time. I've known him much longer and he'd changed quite a lot before you even met him. This…Veritas, even lonely and frustrated, is a much happier, more well-adjusted person than Avon ever was." He sighed heavily and the others tensed, waiting for Vila to finish. "I think we should let this new person alone so he can get on with his life…without us."
Stunned silence greeted him, the others frozen in place.
Predictably, Tarrant recovered first and rushed. This was, of course, what he'd hoped for all along. "I agree. For his own good, of course."
"Of course!" Dayna sneered sarcastically at him. "The fact that it clears the field for you has nothing to do with it, right?" Her dark eyes glared at Tarrant. It was so unfair of him to be so…possessive and vindictive and just plain childish as he had been ever since they'd discovered Avon.
Turning finally to Vila, she asked, "What do the psychs have to say about his memory returning?"
Vila let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. If they could all get beyond their own concerns and talk rationally about…Veritas, maybe things would actually come out okay. With it plain that Veritas would never become Avon, Vila had planned out a course of action that, he hoped, would be best for everyone concerned.
"According to their reports, he appears to have had a severe head injury, probably associated with physical and mental torture over a long period of time. When the torture stopped, for whatever reason, he was just left alone. Somehow, his mind rebuilt itself into another person. They don't think he will ever recover the old personality, although the possibility remains that the old Avon personality is locked somewhere inside his head."
Dayna raised her eyes to Vila and nodded, tears glittering on her lashes. Her soft voice was sad as she said, "You're right then, Vila. We have to let him go. For his own happiness. He doesn't belong to us, not this Veritas. But…will he be safe alone?"
Soolin nodded, the same worry occurring to the blond gunfighter. "That's a good question, Vila. What if someone comes after him, without us to watch his back?"
Vila shook his head. "I don't think there are many alive now that would recognize him. Since the Federation's fallen, he's no longer a wanted man. Anywhere but Earth, he's probably safe now." He sat back in his chair, weariness weighing upon his shoulders. He looked around his small circle of friends, ones who had fought at his side and survived into, he hoped, a better day, a better world. Briefly, he saw the shades of those he'd lost, gathering behind his living friends: Gan, the gentle giant; Jenna, all brittle and bright; Cally, gentle telepath and fierce freedom fighter, and, finally, the dark brooding presence of that other Avon. It seemed to him they were all nodding their approval.
"That's my plan, if none of you has a better one. It'll have to be soon, though. Blake's due back anytime now and you know what havoc that great bleeding heart of his would cause if he saw Av…" Vila tripped, his own tongue giving away his false hopes and present sorrow. He finished quietly, "Veritas." They nodded in agreement
Vila blinked several times, like a robot checking his programming, then became suddenly all business in an attempt to hide his heartache.
"Right. I'll work on finding him a place. I'll…talk to him tonight about our plan. You three," he looked meaningfully at Tarrant, "try to be more circumspect about keeping a watch on…Veritas, okay?" They nodded and left. Vila had determinedly returned his attention to his paperwork by then, so he didn't see the last look Tarrant cast him before closing the door, a look of fear and hate.
***
Soolin still felt she needed to check on Veritas. She couldn't explain why it seemed so important to find him, to confirm that he was doing okay. It was just something she needed to do.
She finally tracked him down, in an out-of-the-way computer room, his back to the door. Her first hint of trouble was the terrible tension that held him in place before the display screen. Entering silently, she peered over his shoulder to see what could possibly cause such a reaction.
Staring back at the tech from the screen was his own image. She tried to stifle her gasp, but he heard her anyway.
He whirled on Soolin, defensive posture only relaxing when he saw who she was. She took an involuntary step back before he relaxed his stance.
"Is he…Am I…Was I him?" he asked, turning his head toward Soolin, his wide, shocked eyes still locked to his own image.
Soolin edged around him to perch one-hipped on the console, folding her hands across one thigh. Feeling that one wrong word could shatter this distressed, suddenly fragile man before her to into a million pieces, she softly answered him. "Yes, once you were him. You aren't him now, though. You're nothing like him, except that you're still good with computers."
"But…that man was psychotic! The things he did…was…" His usually soft voice was full of alarm and pain and horror.
Soolin knew shock when she saw it. A small part of her mind warned her she was insane to do what she planned now. Avon, the real Avon, would have shot her for it.
Grabbing one of Veritas' shoulders, she slapped him-hard-across the face.
He blinked, one hand coming up to touch an already reddening cheek as he stared unwaveringly at Soolin.
Now that she had his complete attention, she repeated, "You…aren't…him! He died insane three years ago when he disappeared after teleporting onto Gauda Prime. He," she said with emphasis, "was never seen again by any of our people. It's probable that he was interrogated and his mind broken. We don't know for sure."
She thought she saw signs of comprehension in those dark eyes, so she went on, "You on the other hand have no past and have a stable personality. Hold to that and go forward. That," she indicated the screen with a nod of her head, "is past and dead. HE is dead. Let it go."
She waited silently for his reaction, withdrawing her hand from his arm and sitting back on the console. He dropped his eyes, seeing nothing but the inside of his own mind.
His words, when they finally came, were not spoken with anger, outrage, or even defeat, all of which she'd feared. His even, strong voice began, "You're right. I'm not him. I am Veritas, a computer tech for this base. I can build upon that." He looked up at her. "Thank you, Soolin."
His eyes had lost their wild look and his face was reset in calmer lines. The tension had bled out of his body. He seemed…if not at peace, at least on the way to peace.
"You're welcome, Veritas." She smiled. "Is…there anything more I can do or tell you to make this easier?"
"I…think I need to talk to Vila from here on, don't you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
She sighed, nodding. "I…was just talking to him. He said he'd planned to visit you for a talk tonight." She felt she had to add, "It'll be hard on him, you know, to talk to you about…him. They were very close and he…mourned Avon's passing for a long time. Oh, he didn't let it interfere with helping Blake, but we could see it. He'd turn to share something or ask a question and you knew he'd expected to find Avon beside him, not Tarrant or one of us. He tried to hide it, but his eyes gave him away. That naked, lost look hurt us a lot, because we couldn't do anything about it. We couldn't even talk to him about Avon. That just made it worse. Tarrant…became a comfort to Vila after awhile. He managed to ease Vila's pain and grief a little."
She shook herself out of her reverie to find him still staring at her, drinking in every word about Vila and Avon. "I'd better go, Veritas." She stood, briefly touched his shoulder, and left.
Veritas remained, gazing at the screen for a long, long while.
***
Vila dithered outside Veritas' door for several long minutes, gathering his courage to even enter and face this stranger with Avon's face. Finally, he squared his shoulders, took a deep fortifying breath and knocked. When the door quickly opened, he thought, Veritas must have been waiting for me.
"Vila, please come in. Can I get you a drink?" Veritas ushered Vila into his room. He waved Vila to the desk chair, then stood uncertainly in the center of the room. He turned toward the bookshelf where the glasses and liquor was kept.
"No, thank you, Veritas. I'm onto your tricks now," he laughed nervously. "I think we'd best be sober tonight."
That stopped the tech's actions. He turned back, jamming his hands into his trouser pockets, cocking his head quizzically.
"And why would that be, Vila?"
Vila ignored the question as he again took the desk chair, perching on the edge. When Veritas sat on the bed, all attention, Vila began to talk, not meeting the man's eyes.
"This is hard for me, Veritas. The…form you wear…Avon…and I were lovers for a long time." He rushed to get the words out before he could censor them. "We were also friends and crewmates. I…watched helplessly as he went insane. He…even tried to kill me once, toward the end. When he…died on Gauda Prime, I mourned him, but…a part of my grief was knowing it was for the best that he died. Then you showed up, so sane and stable. I thought at first that there was a chance for us again. But, you aren't Avon. You're Veritas and I have no place in your life. I can't run it, either. That's what I came to tell you tonight." He paused, taking a deep breath. Now came the hard part; telling Veritas of his decision.
Vila finally had to look up, into those beloved brown eyes. Had to see Veritas' reaction when he told him he was being sent away.
"I've contacted the leader of the rebel forces in the Outer Worlds. He's agreed to give you a place with his computers. He really does need your help. If…you're agreeable, a shuttle leaves tomorrow morning on its regular supply run. You…can be on it, too."
Vila waited nervously for Veritas' reaction. He watched as one emotion chased another behind those eyes. Shock. Fear. Bewilderment. Finally, acceptance.
Slowly the dark man nodded. "Yes, I think that's for the best, Vila. I'm assuming you're trying to get my face as far from Earth as possible, correct?"
"You stand a better chance of not being identified as Avon in the Outer World, yes."
"Then it's settled?" Veritas slumped on the bed, his hands dangling loosely between his knees.
"I guess it is, yes…but I'd like…to ask a…favor, if I may?" Vila suddenly sounded so nervous, Veritas tensed with alarm.
"Certainly, Vila. After what you and the others have done for me here, how could I refuse anything in my power to give?" A quirk of his lips could almost have been a smile.
Vila raised a hand, waving it side to side. "No, please. Don't feel obligated to grant this…It's purely personal and you're free to refuse it…if it distresses you."
"Vila, out with it. Stop babbling and say it!"
Vila straightened in shock. Hearing one of Avon's favorite phrases issuing from Veritas' lips was almost his undoing. Suppressing a gasp, he plunged on before he could lose his nerve. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, his throat threatening to close completely.
"Would you…hug me? Just so I can…make believe for a moment that I have Avon in my arms? So that I can say goodbye to him?" The look of helpless longing on his face couldn't have been denied by a heart of stone.
"Of course, Vila," he said softly. He rose, walking toward Vila.
Vila stood, carefully placing his arms around Veritas. Then he laid his head on those broad shoulders. His tears would no longer be denied. After all this time of holding himself together, of denying himself, of lying to himself that he would be all right, Vila gave in.
The door of the room burst open and Tarrant flew into the room, fury plain on his youthful face.
"I knew it! I knew you'd try to take Vila away from me, you bastard. You haven't changed! You're still Avon!" he raged.
Grabbing Vila by the shoulder, he spun the smaller man off and away from Veritas with his left hand, his right hand coming up in a roundhouse punch to the startled tech's chin.
"Tarrant, no! You don't understand…" Vila began, trying to come between the two, but he was too late to stop the disaster. Veritas, caught off balance, fell, knocking his head sharply on the corner of the desk. He lay still, crumpled in a heap by the desk.
Pushing Tarrant aside, Vila knelt, checking for a pulse. Finding one, he yelled at Tarrant. "Get a medic, man! I'm afraid he's badly hurt! Move!"
When Veritas was finally borne from the room, Vila followed the stretcher, holding his hand. Tarrant, left alone and unwanted, hung back, ashamed and fearful.
***
Vila paced about the waiting room until the doctor came out.
"How is he, Dr. Sullivan?"
"I won't know for sure until he regains consciousness. Right now, I'm only sure he has a concussion, not how it will affect him or his memory." Seeing the desperation and frustration in Vila's face, he added kindly, "If you want to, you can sit with him until he wakens."
"Oh, yes, I'd like that very much." Relief at having something to do besides pace the length of the impersonal waiting room flooded through Vila.
Entering the small sterile room, Vila found Veritas lying pale and still among banks of monitoring equipment. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of black hair from his forehead. Pulling up a chair, he fell into it, taking one cool hand in his own.
"Oh, Avon, things are in such a snarl! All I wanted was to say goodbye to you, and look what happened. If anything's wrong with you, I'll never forgive myself." He leaned his forehead on the bed. The stark, starched sheets absorbed his silent tears. Eventually, he lapsed into an exhausted sleep, still clasping Avon's long-fingered, elegant hand.
Tarrant, peeking in some minutes later, took in the tableaux and felt red rage flare within himself. In his mind, jealousy and fear of losing Vila circled, stoking the flames that ate away at his soul.
Pulling silently out of the room, he almost ran into Soolin, coming to check on Vila and Veritas. She read it all in Tarrant's eyes and stepped back before the heat of that blaze. Taking little notice of her, he brushed past.
She knew what she had to do. She had to stand guard over the two silent men in the hospital room, lest this raging inferno of a man consume them both. Withdrawing to an out-of-the-way observation point, she settled in to watch.
***
Vila awoke when the hand he was holding spasmed, almost wrenching it from his own hands. Starting up, he peered blurrily at Veritas' face. What he met there froze the blood in his veins.
Avon stared out of those eyes.
"Vila," came the hoarse panicked whisper, "where are we? Is this a prison too? There've been so many prisons, so much pain. Please, no more, Vila." He struggled to get up, to leave the bed, to escape. Vila tried to hold him down, but that only made the man more frantic.
"Doctor! Orderlies! Get in here!" he yelled, as Avon, possessed of frantic strength, fought Vila, desperate to avoid more torture.
Two burly orderlies responded to Vila's shouts, butt even their combined strength was just barely sufficient to restrain the crazed man. When they began putting restraints on Avon, Vila protested.
"Is that really necessary? He hates that!"
"Sorry, sir, but he could hurt you and himself if we don't."
Vila backed away as they finished with the straps. He looked helplessly into Avon's burning black eyes.
"It'll be all right, Avon, really," he pleaded, though he didn't seem to be getting through. "Please stop fighting them," he pleaded. Vila knew even as he spoke that the man behind the eyes was beyond his words. The man he'd loved and followed through the worst the Federation could throw at them, that man was mad.
The orderlies departed, promising to bring the doctor as soon as they could find him. Vila was left alone Avon.
For heartbreaking moments, the two stared at each other, searching for…sanity? Meaning? Love?
"Vila, why are you doing this to me?" Avon shouted. "I trusted you. Why are you helping the Federation torture me? Please, Vila, let me up! I've had more torture than I can stand," he cried, pleading with hot eyes that burned into Vila's very soul. "No more, Vila, no more, please." His voice sank to a whisper, as his eyes closed momentarily. Vila thought maybe he'd drifted off to sleep, but just as he moved to the bedside to sit down, Avon's eyes snapped open and a look of cunning came into them.
"Vila, do you still love me?" he purred, with that velvet voice that could charm angels. "I can see you do. Then please, for our love, let me go."
Those words, so soft, so reasonable, so full of torment, broke Vila. He could not longer bear seeing Avon so distressed.
Hearing the door behind him opening, he dismissed it as the doctor coming to check on his patient. He didn't bother to turn around, his focus solely on what his lover had become, a broken man.
"I'll take care of you, Avon, you know I will. I always have." Vila was talking to himself as much as to Avon now. "I'll have to leave Blake and the revolution, but it's the only thing I can do. You need me and I can't turn my back on you now."
Tarrant's voice came strongly from behind Vila. "He doesn't need you, Vila. The revolution and I need you. He's been dead for three years now. He's not worth your giving up everything for." The rage in his voice flamed against Vila, igniting a fear of Tarrant he'd never known. He straightened from the bedside and whirled.
And saw the weapon in Tarrant's hands.
"No, Tarrant! You can't…"
He was too late. Tarrant's finger tightened, the blast reaching out with lethal power for the silent man strapped to the bed.
"NO!" cried Vila, lunging toward the bed. He clasped Avon's body in his arms, crying, "Tarrant, no, oh, no."
Neither man saw Soolin enter the room. Taking in the dead Avon and Tarrant aiming his blaster at Vila, she drew her own weapon and shot Tarrant. The big man toppled, falling bonelessly at Vila's feet, dead before he hit the floor.
Vila shrieked, "Nooooo!"
"He'd already shot Avon and was aiming at you next," she protested. "He went crazy, fearing he'd lose you."
"Oh, Soolin, no, that wasn't it all!" Vila moaned, dropping to the floor next to Tarrant. Tenderly, he cradled Tarrant's head in his lap, gently closing the staring eyes and smoothing the unruly curls. "He only finished what the Federation started three years ago. Avon was already dead, don't you see? And now Tarrant has paid for my indecision. Oh, Tarrant, I'm sorry, so sorry." His tears fell unheeded into his lover's brown hair.
***
Veritas had been buried quietly, with only the remaining three who'd known him to see him off.
Tarrant, on the other hand, as commander of the fleet, rated a well-attended memorial. The general populace wondered why Vila, as base commander and, some knew, Tarrant's lover, didn't speak at the memorial service. He stood silent, eyes downcast. Among so many, Vila was alone.
As Vila, flanked by Dayna and Soolin, was leaving the empty chapel, the last of the mourners, he turned to the girls, stopping them just inside the carved double doors. "I…I'm leaving the base. I…can't stand to be here and to remember…" His voice trailed off. He didn't have the energy to explain, even to these two.
"No, Vila," Dayna protested, placing a hand on his arm. "They wouldn't want you to quit like this."
"Let him alone, Dayna," Soolin advised, understanding more of Vila's torment than the younger woman.
"But…he can't go. We need him here!"
"And I need him here, too." The familiar voice boomed from the doorway as Blake strode into the chapel. Approaching the trio, he put his arms around Vila, fairly smothering the smaller man to his chest. "Right now, I need you more than ever, here, by my side." He thrust Vila away from him but held onto his shoulders.
"Vila, I need you. You've grown since we lost Avon, into the man you should have been all along. Don't throw all that away now. Neither of them would want you to just curl up and die. They'd want you to go on, to live, wouldn't they?" Blake waited for Vila's reaction, his ego knowing Vila could not refuse him, but still fearing that losing both the man's lovers would break him.
Many emotions washed across Vila's face: fear, grief, longing for what he'd lost, despair, and, gradually, a small brightening of hope for the future.
He managed a small, watery smile. "You're right, Blake. I can't quit, not now that the revolution they fought for is succeeding. I'll stay, Blake," he promised. Lowering his voice, perhaps speaking to himself, he went on, "I'll always remember them. Always."
Vila threw back his shoulders, pulling a hard-won mask of authority over his face. Turning, he reached out for the women's hands and led them from of the chapel.
Blake stood silent, watching them go, watching the last three of the Scorpio's crew. Watching the timid Delta thief he'd first met in a prison cell, now grown into an Alpha commander.
Watching a heartbroken man pick up the pieces of his life and go on.