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It was a very dark planet.
Well, most planets were dark sometimes, of course. But, it seemed, there was dark and then there was dark.
This was dark.
And it was stormy.
What this was, was a dark and stormy night.
"Is this going to be the way things are?"
Those were the first words Avon had spoken in nearly an hour.
Blake turned towards him. Or toward where he thought Avon was. It was dark and he could not be sure. "What?" he said.
Avon sighed, and the sound drifted through the blackness to touch Blake's face. "I asked you if this is the way things are going to be all the time?"
"I don't understand," Blake said.
"First of all, our attempted coup on the LONDON collapsed because of your bleeding heart. Then we have to make that absurd attempt to rescue all the convicts on Cygnus Alpha. And now we're supposed to be conducting some sort of revolution, as nearly as I can tell. Do I have all of that correct so far?"
Blake was suddenly very glad for the darkness; he did not think that Avon would appreciate the fact that he was grinning. "You seem to have a fine grasp of the situation," he murmured.
"Well, given that, I am not optimistic. You and I seem to be stranded on this nameless and very dark planet, with little hope of escape. Is this any way to run a revolution?"
Blake could not restrain a chuckle. "Things will get better, Avon."
"I doubt that very much."
"The ship will come back for us," he said firmly.
Avon snorted elegantly. "On the contrary, I rather imagine that the smuggler and the thief have taken the jewels and run."
Blake frowned. "Do you really think so?"
"It is what I would have done."
"Is it?" He thought about that briefly. "But when you had the chance to do so, Avon, you did not."
"I tried. Jenna...was reluctant."
"And her reluctance prevented you from acting? Forgive me if I doubt that."
Avon mumbled something that was swallowed up by the darkness.
"I have not asked you for an oath of loyalty," Blake said suddenly. "Nor do I imagine that you would give me one if I did."
"Ha," Avon said.
"Why do you hate me?" Blake had not planned to ask that particular question, and he did not breathe, waiting for the answer.
"You're a bleeding heart idealist," was the prompt response.
He exhaled. "Ahh," he said. "It's that simple."
"Yes. That simple."
Silence filled the blackness for a time.
"Well," Blake said finally. "You are a cold-hearted cynic."
"Yes," Avon agreed placidly. "I am."
"But I like you anyway."
"What?"
"I like you, Avon, despite your abysmal personality flaws."
The silence lasted longer this time.
"It seems as if there is nowhere else I can go at the present time, anyway," Avon said at last.
Blake grinned again, still unseen.
"So I suppose that I shall have to be a part of your ridiculous plans. For a time."
It was not an oath of loyalty.
It was not a declaration of friendship.
But it was something.
Blake reached out and found Avon's shoulder; the other man was sitting closer than he'd thought. His hand rested there firmly.
Avon sighed again, a hopeless sort of sound, but he did not move away.
Blake was smart enough not to say anything.
They sat like that until the ship returned.
the end
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