May Flights of Angels…

by Kathy

Fandom: Blake's 7

Rated G

Summary: Avon at the end of 'Blake'

May Flights of Angels…

by Kathy

His hand jerked with the recoil and through clouded vision, he saw Blake hit. The gun fired again and he could see the blood. Blake’s eyes were wide as he tried to move to him. Avon felt himself fire again and Blake stopped, his legs buckling. Avon watched as he dropped slowly to the floor, reaching out and taking Avon’s arms.

"Avon," Blake gasped, his eyes losing their fire; questioning, pleading.

Avon let go of the dying man’s arms and watched as he slowly sank to the floor at his feet. There were voices around him, a gun firing and an explosion in the far distance. Avon stared at the body that had been Blake. Blake. After all this time. How could he have betrayed us? How could he have led us here to die? All those speeches and platitudes meant nothing. All they had been through together had been for nothing. In the end, even Blake had turned to greed and self-promotion.

Far away, Avon could hear Tarrant and Vila and a voice he couldn’t place. It didn’t matter now. All his life, Avon had looked after number one, until he met Blake. Blake had made him believe in something more. Avon had tried to resist, but deep inside him the optimistic child had shown its face, had encouraged him to believe they could make a difference. After Blake had disappeared, the child had carried on its calling, continued to tell him that they could succeed.

A cry. Dayna. Another shot, another cry. Vila.

Still staring at the body, Avon could feel the ending of his companions’ lives. They had only ever existed as a team because they had no one else, but each of them had brought something and they had grown to know each other, to anticipate and to feel with each other. Blake. Why? We were never brothers, we were never even friends, but I never thought you would betray us. I never wanted to, but you were the only one I trusted.

A muffled scream. Soolin. His own name called and a body falling. Tarrant.

Avon turned and saw the corpses of the fallen crew, their bodies twisted on the ground, their eyes dead and staring. Staring at him. I brought you to this. If I hadn’t been chasing Blake, if I hadn’t still believed in him, you would all be alive. I should have left. I should have gone my own way, but I wanted The Liberator. And I had grown used to your companionship. It was weak. I should have left.

Troopers were moving in around him. Surrounded. Avon watched them form a circle and raise their weapons. He looked down at Blake. Nothing left after the final betrayal. Why bother when all is lost? Why fight when the end has come? Avon smiled to himself. Because the Blake I admired would have. He stood over the body and raised his gun, smiling at the troopers around him.

Pain, pain. Nerves screaming, blood. He kept on firing until he hit the ground. His breath short in his throat, his vision blurred and distorted, Avon looked over at Blake’s body. He was still alive, barely.

"Blake," Avon gasped, blood bubbling in his lungs, "Why did you betray me?"

"I didn’t." The voice was low and the breath Blake’s last.

Avon turned his eyes to the ceiling. What have I done? Realisation came in a blinding flash as he lay dying. Death came in a cold blackness, engulfing him slowly. As he slipped into the velvet dark, his last thoughts tortured him.

Blake.

END