Title: Gauda Prime: A Fairytale
Author: Zenia
Fandom: Blakes 7
Pairing: Blake/Avon
Rating: PG 13
Email: illandri2@aol.com
Homepage: www.geocities.com/ztovarich/fanfic.html
Archive: No
Spoilers: If you don't know how B7 ends, perhaps you don't want to read this.
Summary: Fairytale, Blakes 7 style.
 

 

Gauda Prime:  A Fairy Tale

by Zenia



There was a moment in the silence when Avon allowed himself to relax.  No
pain.  No fear.  He dropped down to cover Blake's body with his own, ignoring
the warm stickiness of blood.  Sentiment breeds weakness but Blake's eyes
were staring upward, heartbreakingly empty.  Avon tangled his fingers in
Blake's curls.  They were dusty and soft.  He had wondered from time to time
but had never allowed his curiosity to be satisfied.  But now he could, as
much as he wished too.

Then the quiet shattered.

Sound rushed forward, a moan, the shuffle of feet, the clatter of teeth...of
his own teeth.  Avon shivered.  The cold was from the stun blasts, the
temperature of the room, from Blake's body leeching the warmth from him.

It didn't matter, he didn't need the warmth.  Blake needed it, needed it
before the cold took over and made him shiver.  Avon took a deep, shaky
breath. 

Please, he wanted to say, please don't.  I--

But he never could say the words.  Not even for Anna.

Avon rested his forehead against Blake's, tilting his head for a brief kiss. 
Blake's stubble rasped painfully against his skin and the kiss tasted
metallic.  He did not want to think why.

"'Things fall apart'," he whispered against Blake's mouth, "'the center
cannot hold.'  I could not hear you." He sighed and shivered all the more
violently.

"Avon." Tarrant's voice was hoarse. "Avon, you need to stand up.  You *can*
stand up?"

Please, please don't.

"Yes." Tarrant was alive.  Avon did not ask how.  Instead he slid from Blake
and knelt at his side.  The front of Avon's clothing was soaked in blood but
his hands were clean.  Clean.

He brushed the hair from Blake's forehead and quietly tried the word corpse. 
It felt wrong.

"Avon." It was Vila this time.  He knelt near Avon, not touching him.  Afraid
perhaps? "The rebels want Blake's body."

Yes, they would.  Was it they who kept Avon from death?  Then they didn't
know.  Good, they would keep Vila and Tarrant and Dayna safe.  Soolin could
take care of herself.  She always could. 

"Avon." Vila tugged at his sleeve.

They wanted Blake.  No, no they didn't deserve him.  With a pass of his hand
he closed Blake's eyes then stroked his cheek.

"I..." He licked his lips, tasting sweat and blood. "Vila, I can't." It was
still Blake, smell and touch and taste and as long as there was that, there
was still a chance.

"I know, but he's gone Avon.  Blake's gone." Vila touched his shoulder, gently

Suddenly Avon was angry.  How dare he, how dare Vila pity him.  He didn't
know.  Vila didn't, couldn't know, because Avon hadn't known.  Hadn't known
until Blake had gripped his arms and whispered his name.

Please don't.

He wanted to lash out, to wrap his hands around Vila's throat and squeeze. 
The thought made him sick suddenly.  He drew a trembling breath.  Tears
burned his eyes and so he squeezed them shut.  He would not allow them the
satisfaction; no it was enough that they were seeing this.  The last time
he'd cried, his mother had just died.  Ten years old and motherless.

His mother, who used to stroke his hair and tell him stories.  Her favorite,
and secretly, his, had been a pre-atomic tale of a woman who had slept for a
hundred years. 

Do you know what woke her, Kerr?

Snuggled warm and safe against her, he shook his head.

A kiss from her one, true love.

The story had fascinated him.  How could a kiss do that?  Love, his mother
had said, true love can do anything.

But that was lie.  Avon had loved Anna, he had kissed her as she lay dead but
she did not wake.  True love never fades.  Avon leaned over and planted small
kisses on Blake's mouth.

Tarrant made a disgusted sound and Vila tugged at his sleeve again.

Please.  He could not wait a hundred years.  Avon deepened the kiss, panting
in desperation into Blake's mouth.  A hundred years would break his heart.

Wake from your dreams Blake.  No more dreams...my love.

Then he felt it, or was it his imagination?  Was that Blake's mouth moving
under his, Blake's hand twitching against his knee?  Was their breath
mingling?  He pulled back fractionally, his eyes still closed until he heard
his name called softly in that deep voice.  He opened his eyes to Blake's
gaze.  There was pain there, but also something more, some warm and tender
emotion.

Avon whispered the emotion. "Love."

Blake smiled.

He did not mind when he was pulled from Blake's side.  Together or apart,
their time was now.  True love never fades.
 


 

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