DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters, damn I wish I did.

ARCHIVE: Yes.
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Avon stalked the flight deck of a nighttime Liberator, her telltale lights winking with amazing rapidity and consistency, considering they were in safe space. Avon snorted at that thought, Blake had never led them to safe space.

In fact if anything the pathological inSane urges their illustrious leader seemed to grow more and more reckless.

Avon stirred his thoughts again, not liking what he came up with, not remembering the desires he had so long suppressed towards his fellow men.

No, that's not quiet right. Fellow man. Vila he thought almost wistfully. Damnable little thief, he thought, always in my thoughts, always at my side.

Again reverie overtook him, from the dark days of the Federation holding cells on earth to now. Vila had been the only constant, the only one who mattered and if the truth were known the only reason he stayed with Blake.

His own sense of duty appalled him, the desire to be a leader of men bored him and this unforgivable attempt to overthrow a superior enemy, resulting no doubt in an unpleasant end, frustrated him.

Anna knew she could never hold him, all the others knew as well and then Cally...Was it really only yesterday....felt something that should not have been there in the taciturn and recalcitrant computer tech.

Something that had stirred his heart and stilled his breath for a nanosecond as he looked on the crumpled sleeping form of their own thief.

Of course he had had to make the nasty remarks, but even as they were born out of habit, his mind turned and they were cold as blood on his tongue.

Cally sensed it all too clearly and touching lightly his elbow had given him one of her patient looks and that smile, that damnable knowing smile.

Had he told Vila? Ever? No. Would he? His heart thundered, murderous in his breast. It was old fashioned, it was stupid, it was.

He ran out of superlatives and picked up the broad tipped pen that Gan had used to write with. Such beautiful flourishing hand he had had. Shortly before his death he had given the pen and some lessons to Avon and even now he used them when he was quiet or bored or well now, whatever the reason took him.

Analyzing this in himself he decided that he was probably honoring the memory of a dead friend.

Snorting at the sentimentality he began to write each word, beautifully crafted, each letter embellished and when finished he smiled. Such a rare sight in itself.

He knew that Vila took the next shift, and leaving it on the console where he normally worked he smiled again. The thief had always been curious by nature and Avon plied him with the tools and desire all too frequently, this would be no different and maybe now he could get some sleep.

The lights dimmed on the flight deck, a ten minute warning that his shift was coming to an end and Vila wandered in rubbing sleep from his eyes and carrying a small puzzle disc to wile away the small hours of the night.

"Status is normal," Avon said curiously breathless, "Obit approach is set. We are four hundred thousand spacials out from Crasta and will make planet fall in the next few hours. No sign of Federation troops or any mines."

Vila nodded or grunted Avon was never sure as he left the thief on the flight deck alone.

True to form, Vila checked all the gauges and read outs before settling down, the fine paper under his fingers, Avon's beautiful scripted hand and a soft lyrical poem.

Vila read it once, blinked back a tear and read it again. He frowned, put the paper down and walked the circuit of the flight deck muttering imprecations to himself.

Finally he stole a glance at the paper and walked back and picked it up, tucking it in his breast pocket of the leisure suit a single tear streaking his face as his smile grew.

"Avon you murderous son of a bitch, you should have told me sooner." He smiled again opening the page and running sensitive fingers over the words.

It read simply.....