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There was that cat that came to Blake sometimes. The cat was wary; sometimes it delivered a dead mouse on Blake’s threshold and sat there waiting for something Blake did not understand. Vila told Blake it was the feline equivalent of a thank you for the food and the hours of rest on the couch. Although Avon had never been possessed with any feline grace – he rather reminded Blake of some stubborn, wary, angry wolf – there was something in the situation that reminded him of the cat. A few days ago Avon had delivered three alphas who had tried to win him over to their plans of rebellion, something very careless of them, really. And careless of Avon, whom everyone had thought dead for more than seven years. One of the unconscious men had a tag pinned to his jacket. Concise, as every note Avon would write. He left a lot of them on the Liberator every time he and Blake were on a no-speaking terms. The note mentioned an upcoming coup d’état
Avonisalive. Such had been Blake’s only thought for three days, while his advisors debated of a course of action. Go get him back, Vila had groaned. He’s waiting.
One of the seditious Alphas had been furious enough to spurt out Avon’s address.
Blake went.
The stairs smelt of urine. The flat was shabby. Avon stood there, looking very out of place.
« May I sit down ? » Blake asked.
Avon shrugged. “Didn’t you say something once about Earth being your home, every inch of it? So I guess you are allowed to sit down anywhere you want.”
“You remember that?” Blake felt absurdly pleased. “It was an early speech. I had forgotten about it.” He smiled at Avon’s annoyed frown and sat down on the worn out couch, wincing at the pain in his back. Avon’s frown deepened.
“Not getting any younger,” Blake said. Avon looked away.
He took a whole minute to look at Avon and marvel at the fact that he had not changed all that much. Aged of course, hadn’t they all? They had been young on the Liberator; too young to take the full measure of their mission, probably. Avon looked sharp and wary, his eyes dark and guarded, his mouth curved in the expression of disdain Blake was used to. A beautiful mouth. Dark eyes. High cheekbones. Avon had lost weight since their last meeting. Running away was not an easy way of life.
“We arrested them. They confessed. They will be tried.”
Avon’s mouth curved in exasperation. “Stupid move. I should have stuck to my plan,” he said. “Shoot them down; deliver the bodies with a note.”
Blake laughed; the sound echoed in the scarcely furnished room. “I’m glad you didn’t. My counsellors would have died with horror. They warned me very strongly against you.
- Are we talking about those stupid, incompetent people who allow you to come visit me on your own? Fire them!”
Blake frowned. “Do you think I asked permission?”
“You never change, Blake. Never learn from the past, still behave like a fool,” Blake said.
“You didn’t kill me yet. I doubt you will now.” And since Avon kept silent, he insisted, “Will you?”
“No. It would be an insane risk to take. I have been cautious enough to stay alive, which was not easy. Besides I have no reason to kill you. What about you?”
It was Blake’s turn to feel uncomfortable. He remembered the obsessive rage and the time wasted hating Avon, wanting him dead, hoping he was, then hoping he was alive so Blake could inflict as much pain on him as he could imagine. He remembered how scathing the anger had been, and destructive.
“For a while,” he said, “I lost any common sense. But Vila talked me out of having you killed.”
Avon stared at him, his eyes assessing. “We all have our personal ghost, I suppose.”
Those carefully enunciated words were a huge relief to Blake. A few words that were enough to dispel seven years of loneliness and fear, seven years of believing that he was, indeed, mad, hearing Vila’s voice in his mind as loud and clear as if he’d been standing by his side. But Avon’s tone was an admission. Who was Avon’s companion? Blake would have opted for Cally. He realized that Avon was still looking at him. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose so. It is still a disturbing experience.”
Avon stood up and in spite of all Blake couldn’t help the moment of anguish – he would have been so disappointed if Avon had tried something now, not to mention helpless. But Avon only retrieved an ancient looking bottle and two glasses. As he poured the liquor – scotch, the tag read, he said, “after all we went through, is there still something that can disturb us?” he asked. “Although…” he put the bottle down and Blake looked at the capable, nimble hands wrapped tightly around it. “Although I have to confess that meeting you again gives the word a whole new meaning.”
It made Blake see things differently, this un-Avonlike remark. It made him realize Avon was a man who could not afford running any longer. Tired. Probably ruined. Defeated?
“Why did they come to you, those men?” He asked.
Avon smiled. “It did not happen like that. One of them – Britt Eksand – had been a close friend once. I met him in a club when I came back to Earth. We became lovers. Does it shock you?”
The way he asked the question – emotionless, barely curious, distant – alerted Blake. He shook his head. “No.”
Avon smiled knowingly. “You always were a terrible liar, Blake.” He shrugged. “What I had found enticing in Eksand once was unbearable now. For some reason the fatuitous fool believed we shared the same convictions. Eksand and his friends… they were so blind to everything, so stupidly clutching to the illusion that the old world had been a paradise. Beside they needed to be caught just for being so stupidly obvious. So you will try them ?
- Of course.”
Avon shook his head. “Don’t. You’ll make the others suspicious. I doubt it’s only about the three of them. Would you or any of those advisors around you have any common sense, you’d set them free under close surveillance and …
- Are you looking for a job, Avon?”
That stopped Avon short. “What?”
Blake pulled his chair closer. “Since you obviously know better than me how to deal with such events I am wondering… Would you work for me?”
Avon didn’t look as taken aback as he should have, Blake reflected. Had he thought about this? Or had he come to a point where he was ready for whatever came his way? “I can only imagine,” Avon said, “how much your staff would like it.”
Blake could muster quite an ominous smile when he put his mind to it, a slightly malevolent glimpse in his only eye. “My staff will do as I see fit.” Yes, he would do this. He would thunder his decision up to them and leave no room to argument. It was not as if Avon would have to work with them. All of it would remain suitably secret.
“Is it a serious offer, Blake?” Avon asked. “Does it mean we’re leaving the past behind and start anew?”
Vila gave Blake a mental kick. Blake nodded. “We’re leaving the past behind – the bad parts. Take a new start.
- You will have to pay me enough to ensure my well-being. I do not intend to spend one more week in this… slum.”
Blake nodded. “I will make you a reasonably wealthy man.”
Avon raised an eyebrow. “Reasonably means nothing.”
To hell with it, Avon. I want you back. “Tell me how much you want. I’ll divide it of half and you’ll get it.”
Avon gave him a tight smile. “Are you sure you want this? I proved to be fairly unstable. Unmanageable. Some say bordering psychotic.”
Blake contemplated that for a moment. Of course it could always be some part in an elaborate plan to get rid of him. Avon could have delivered Eskand and the others to have Blake here and… Stop this Blake, Vila said. He’s genuinely in need of you, this time, in more ways than one. He will just never admit it. It’s Avon, for God’s sake. What did you expect?
Looking away from his glass and back to Avon, who was waiting, impassive. His left hand though was clutching the armrest very tightly.
“I do have a reservation, though,” Blake rumbled.
Avon stiffened visibly, opened his mouth to say something – something unpleasant, certainly. Blake raised a hand to shut him up.
“If you must look for a man to sleep with, I’d rather you chose me.”
That silenced Avon effectively. He seemed to think hard about the offer – the bastard. Then, nodding curtly, he said, “I’ll give it a thought.
- Fine. Fine. We got it all settled, then, don’t you think?” He rose from his seat, feeling a bit better suddenly. “I’m going home.”
Avon jumped to his feet and took a menacing step forward. “Oh no you’re not, Blake,” he said, sternly.
A flash of fear crossed Blake’s mind as Avon opened a drawer and retrieved a gun – a very scary one. “What….
- You’re not going alone. Not anymore. It is much too dangerous and you are paying me well to ensure your safety. Later I can find someone to look after you but for now… I’m taking you home.”
Blake sighed. It was going to be a daily ordeal, one he welcomed with much trepidation. He frowned. “You will have to come inside then and search my place.”
Avon rolled his eyes, grabbed a long coat, shoved the gun into his pocket and went to the door.
Vila laughed. I’ll leave you to it, then, he whispered. Time for me to rest.