A/N: The usual disclaimer: I own nothing of Blake's Seven. I just enjoy messing with their lives. The characters belong to Terry Nation and BBC. Darkover belongs to Marion Zimmer Bradley.

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The celebrating was a raving success, with many gifts presented to and received graciously by both hosts and hostess. Finally, Vila called for silence. He had a presentation of his own to make.

After the room had quieted, he announced, "I have the finishing touch for our house." He reached into a hidden cupboard and pulled out a large, flat, oblong package. He pulled the wrapper off and held it up. A collective gasp swept over the room. The portrait was incredible.

Now Avon understood the reason for Vila's insistence on their traditional attire. The painting was of both men, in their distinctive plaid, with a seated, smiling Vila in full light, looking slightly up at Avon, while Avon's countenance was in partial shadow with the light coming from behind, highlighting the deep silver streaks in his hair. He was gazing down at his mate, an almost-smile gracing his face, one hand on Vila's shoulder. If there had been any doubt before of the love these two felt for one another, it was dispelled in the instant that the likenesses were displayed above the fireplace for all to see.

"How? When?" Avon managed to ask Vila as he helped to position the frame.

"I just contacted a local artist, had him use a photographic likeness of us, then gave him a sample of the plaid and told him what I wanted. I hope you aren't angry."

"Angry?" His eyebrows rose as he turned shining eyes toward his lover. "Vila, it's the most remarkable gift I've ever received. How can I thank you?"

"You already have, Avon," he said, just a touch shyly, a tiny smile lifting the corners of this lips.

The look of love in Avon's eyes was one of complete understanding.

With the portrait in place, Avon went to a wall cupboard and opened it. He took out a small harp and turned to Cally. "I've always regretted that we were unable to save your harp when the Liberator was destroyed," he told her.

Vila picked up the thread. "We found this one when we were having the house rebuilt. Avon had it re-worked and restrung, but he refuses to play it and I'm nowhere near as skilled as you are."

Avon handed the harp to the astounded and delight Auron. "It's our gift to you." He turned to the guests. "If you're amenable, I'd like Cally to play for us."

Receiving general agreement, Cally sat and began to play a lively tune. Someone brought out his pipes and began to accompany her. Feet and hands kept time, then someone started the dancing.

The evening was successful, more than either Avon or Vila could have predicted. Their future here was assured, at least among the influential and neighbors there that night.

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"Well, I had a wonderful time, Avon," Vila said as the last of their guests were sent off to quarters for the night. "But I must say, I'm glad it's just us now."

They went back into the library where Cally sat waiting.

As they entered, she said, "I have gifts for you as well, but because of their personal nature I thought I'd wait until it was just the three of us." She reached into her pocket, bringing out two small boxes, handing the silver-wrapped one to Avon and the gold to Vila.

With delighted smiles at her, the two men tore eagerly into the wrappings, Avon with abandon, Vila more carefully. Avon lifted an elegant silver locket from his box as Vila discovered an identical golden one.

"Open them," she directed softly, then smiled as each man discovered the other's miniature portrait inside.

"They're beautiful, Cally," Vila whispered, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek.

"I did the paintings myself from memory. I hope they are as I remembered."

Avon took a closer look, then understood. "This is how we looked that night on the flight deck, when we…"

"…when we made our first promises," Vila finished. †

"The two of you didn't exchange any physical tokens that night, as I recall."

"No, we didn't," Avon agreed. "And we never did afterwards." He fastened the gold chain around Vila's neck, then handed the silver locket to his mate, who repeated the actions.

Avon sat on the sofa with Vila at his feet, his head resting on Avon's knee in an easy silence.

"Play something for just us, Cally, please, if you're not too tired," Avon requested, reinforcing his request with his mind, naming the tune he wanted.

She caught the look, heard the whispered request in her mind, and reached for the memory. It traveled across the years as she moved her hands over the harp strings, her voice bringing life to the words.

The first time, ever I saw your face,

I thought the sun rose in your eyes,

And the moon and the stars,

Were the gifts you gave

To the dark and the empty skies, my love.

To the dark and the empty skies.

Avon's eyes closed, remembering that other time when she'd sung this for him and Vila.

She continued to sing.

The first time, ever I kissed your mouth,

I felt the earth move in my hand,

Like the trembling heart of a captive bird,

That was there at my command, my love,

That was there, at my command.

She came to the final verse. "Sing it with me, Vila," she invited.

Vila's soft tenor joined in the harmony, his heart swelling with the words, remembering Avon's own words to him of the night before. He felt his lover's hand grip his as he gave voice to the feelings in both their hearts.

The first time, ever I lay with you,

And felt your heart beat, so close to mine,

I knew our joy would fill the worlds,

And would last till the end of time, my love.

And would last till the end of time. ††

"Thank you, Cally…and Vila," Avon whispered, barely able to speak for the emotion wrapped around his heart. "You don't know how much that meant to me."

"Oh, but I think I do, Avon. I remember, just as you do," she said.

Avon placed a hand on Vila's head, tipping it up so he could look the other man in the eyes. "I love you, Vila," he said in a firm, unhesitating voice. "I love you." Then he caught Cally's eye and smiled.

Vila climbed to his feet, pulling Avon up and into his arms for a soft, soulful kiss. "Let's go to bed, Avon."

† See Ever I Saw Your Face.

†† Ewan MacColl, 1957.