Title: Addiction

Author: Zenia

Fandom: Blakes 7

Pairing: Blake/Avon

Rating: NC-17

E-mail: ztovarich@yahoo.com

Archive: If you like, just let me know where.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

Warnings: Um, Blake's 7 is not a happy show. This is not a happy story.

Summary: This is a Post Gauda Prime story. Blake and Avon have been imprisoned by the Federation. This is what happens to them. Yeah I know, not helpful, but there you have it.

*********
Addiction
By Zenia
*********

The room was white.

It was easy at first. Avon told them all he knew. It didn't matter. The others were dead. Blake was dead and he didn't give a damn about anyone else. He gave it all to them: the hyperdrive, the teleport, even an Orac Mark II. When they had emptied him of knowledge he expected to die. He wanted to die. But it wasn't allowed.

The first few months he fought them: gave bruises, drew blood. The day that he lay there and let them, he knew he was lost. Dusk: it was a non-lethal derivative of shadow. It could be injected, inhaled, or ingested. He preferred the injection. It took effect much more quickly.

Avon closed his eyes and clenched his hands until his nails cut his palms. Red. He would smear the blood on his clothes, which were also white. He missed color.

He would not need it. They could not make him need it.

The door opened and Ean came in. He wore white too.

"You've hurt yourself."

Avon blinked and looked up.

"I told you I wasn't going to bandage you up again." When he didn't answer Ean sighed. "All right then, let's see your arm."

He licked his lips.

"Come on now, you're not going to try to be difficult? I'm helping you, aren't I? I'm not making you wait so that you have to beg for it."

Avon closed his eyes and stretched out his arm.

He made a tsking sound. "Veins are collapsing again. I think we're going to have to start using the ones in your legs."

The needle sliding into his flesh didn't hurt. Not anymore. The reaction was almost immediate. He gasped as a rush of cool flashed through his body. Then warmth, starting at the pit of his stomach, weaved its way through his extremities. He slid down the wall, onto his back. Avon opened his eyes to the now hazy overhead lights. He could hear the sound of his breathing, harsh to his ears. He felt heavy, as if he were several times his normal mass.

Soon he would be floating and the lights would dance around him.

Ean patted his head. "Pleasant dreams."

**********

Blake was in hell.

It wasn't fire and brimstone as described in those proscribed theology books he once read. No, it was a padded cell that came equipped with its own straitjacket. It was the machine they hooked him to and the nightmares that followed.

None of it was real. He knew that none of it was real. But one could kill one's friends only so many times before it became too much. He couldn't Not Play The Game. He tried once, but the screams kept up, so did the begging.

And the smell. The sweet smell of decaying bodies that came from them, even as they lived. Even as they--

'Please, please Blake. It hurts, make it stop hurting!' Hands gripping him, tearing into his flesh. 'Do something, you have to do something.'

Helpless to heal them, unable to do anything, he fired his gun. Blood and gore on his hands, splattered on his clothes and face...wading in blood up to his armpits.

Never clean and never quiet because of the screams. Dear God, the screams!

But as long as there was light, the screams didn't follow him into his cell. Light kept them away. He always had light unless he misbehaved and he hardly ever misbehaved anymore. Last time they left him hooked to the machine for several thousand deaths, then, when they sent him back to his cell they turned off the lights.

He'd screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and he could taste blood in his mouth. Until the straitjacket came on and he was given a sedative.

'You'll be a good boy now, won't you Roj?' Then a hand slipped into his trousers. That old game.

He wasn't a boy, but Blake didn't even bother correcting them anymore.

If only they would leave him alone. He had enough ghosts, enough nightmares, without adding to them.

Blake fought a wave of panic as the door opened.

"It's time."

He swallowed a sob and struggled to his feet.

**********

They did not allow him anything sharp. He ate his meals with his hands, sitting alone in another white room. She often visited him here.

"Hello Avon."

He looked up from the gray protein cubes. "Servalan," he said, in a rusty voice.

"That looks unappetizing."

Avon waited patiently.

She smiled and ran her fingernails lightly over his cheek. "We destroy more rebel cells every day. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't bother." He turned his attention back to his dinner

"Oh Avon, we could have been wonderful together. Instead you're reduced to this." She sighed. "You should thank me really. You'd be dead now, if it weren't for me. Once word got out that you killed Blake--"

Avon laughed, a short painful bark.

"They want to destroy you."

"And what you do you want?"

She grasped his hair and yanked it back. "To help you Avon. The dusk, the suppressants, they're to help you become a better Federation citizen."

"How kind of you."

"Yes, isn't it." Sevalan smoothed his hair back into place and kissed him, once, on the mouth.

Avon watched as she left, then he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore.

**********

There was nothing he could do to get away from the smell. The body lay only a few feet away, eyes empty. It wasn't anyone he knew, so it had to be real.

Blake closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his chest. He could feel his own heart thumping in a slow, steady beat.

One, two, three, four; he was afraid that it would stop. He was afraid that he would end up like the ones in his dreams. They were cold and they screamed.

He didn't want to die that way, always in pain.

Blake opened his eyes and crawled over to the corpse. "Be glad I don't know you. They can't make me kill you. They won't hurt you."

He pressed his fingers against the body's ice-cold cheek, then the soft hair.

"You were young. But then, we were all young once. I hadn't even turned thirty, the first time they tried to kill me. They realized, though, that I couldn't die. Now they kill my friends, or make me do it."

No, no, he shouldn't be speaking to him as if he were alive. Blake took a deep breath. No speaking to corpses if they don't speak to you first.

He huddled back to his corner, pressing his fists to his eyes.

This was real, this was real, please, he couldn't forget what was real.

**********

It was as if ice flowed through his veins, burning him, scraping him raw. He couldn't think for want of it. This was need in its most brutal form, running through him like a snowstorm.

"Please," he whispered, wrapping his arms about himself to keep from shaking.

"Please, what?" The voice came from an audio speaker that was placed on the ceiling.

"It hurts." He doubled over and fell to his knees. It felt like death.

"What would you do for it?"

Nothing, he would do nothing. He didn't need. "Anything."

"Anything?" The voice chuckled.

"Yes, damn you," he screamed.

Several heartbeats later, the door opened.

Cruelty came in many forms, left evidence: bruised lips, scratches, a bitter taste in his mouth. What were worse were the occasions he couldn't remember. How many times had he woken, trousers stripped away, semen drying on his thighs, his anus, raw and painful.

They liked to make him remember. Strapped to a chair, they would force him to watch the vid-casts. In plain view he could not ignore his submission, the way his legs wrapped around one, the way he sucked another, how he groaned, how he enjoyed their touch.

So much worse than the reality of rape, the drug stripped away all reluctance. It refused him his defiance.

His own sex-blurred voice moaned, 'harder, oh harder.'

Not broken, but twisted into something unrecognizable. He was forced to become a slave to desire...no, not desire, need, which was worse. Desire could be denied but need, it became one with you, it could not be escaped.

There was no escape.

An intelligent man can adapt.

Avon wiped the blood from his mouth and pulled up his trousers. He was still shaking.

Ean stroked his cheek. "You're very good."

"The dusk?" He tried to keep the need from his voice.

"Soon."

"When?" He looked up quickly.

"Kiss me." Ean traced his mouth with a finger.

"No." Avon jerked away from the touch.

"Then no drug."

"No." There were certain things he would not give.

"I could force you."

"No." He'd bite his tongue off if he tried.

Ean sighed and said into the air, "Bring it in."

**********

If he hid, they might not find him. Blake huddled into one of the service tunnels, a Liberator gun pressed to his chest. It was dark and he could hear them breathing harshly, more like moans than anything else. He knew they were coming, didn't know when, it was too dark to tell, but he could feel it.

"Don't find me, don't find me, don't find me."

He waited for the inevitable.

**********

Avon woke up in his own filth.

Overdose.

It happened sometimes, whether it was on purpose or by accident, he did not know. He cleaned himself with his garments. He was dirty and the room smelled terrible. He knew that it could be days before they would hose him off. Like some damned animal. He pressed his hands together, trying to contain the fury that rushed through him.

When Ean came to clean him up, Avon was sick all over him.

**********

Blake repeatedly pulled the trigger until there was only the whine of an empty discharge. Then he dropped the blaster and fell onto his knees. What used to be Jenna soaked into his trousers and made them stick to his skin.

He wiped his mouth with a bloody hand and prayed they would let him wake up.

**********

The world rocked. Avon turned onto his stomach and concentrated on the way his breath felt against the skin of his wrist.

**********

On the way back to his room, it happened.

The floor rolled and pitched Blake against the hallway wall. Then the walls began to shake, the lights to sway. He held his hands over his ears to muffle the sound of metal twisting, of the sharp whine of alarms. There was another violent wrenching of the floor
and he fell onto his knees. His guard looked at him for a moment before the ground swallowed him up. Just like on Zil's planet. He almost laughed. He almost cried.

Chaos.

People ran screaming around him. Not the first time.

The world was collapsing around him. He kept low to the ground, dodging feet and debris. He had never been in an earthquake before, but it felt like the Liberator did when under attack.

No, worse.

Someone kicked him, hard in the ribs. He stopped, breathless for a moment. There had to be a way out. Blake got to his feet.

**********

There was a gaping hole in his cell wall. Avon laughed. He'd never seen that before. He inched forward on his hands and knees to touch it. Perhaps it would be solid or it would waver, like a hallucination.

As he came closer, he could see the confusion: lights flashing, people running, a fine, glowing dust drifting. He stopped, transfixed, and wondered if he would glow if he breathed it.

He did not like that thought. He did not--

Avon gasped, then let out a cry. Blake, Blake! He reached out a hand.

"Blake!"

**********

He turned at the sound of his name.

No, no! Blake shook his head. No, he was so sure that it was real. But it couldn't be, not if Avon made an appearance. And such an appearance, different from all the other visions of Avon.

This one wore all white and he had a hand outstretched, imploring. Only, this one did not seem to do it out of fear, but out of wonder.

Blake took a hesitating step. He shouldn't, he shouldn't play their game. Avon was not real. He'd start dying soon and then he'd force Blake to kill him. Blake didn't want to kill him anymore.

Someone shoved him from behind.

"Blake?" Avon smiled.

Dammit, he was a fool. They were manipulating him and he was letting them.

He strode into the room and pulled Avon up by his arms. Another wave hit and Avon clutched him, laying his cheek against Blake's shoulder.

"Blake," Avon whispered.

"Yes." He swallowed down the lump in his throat and blinked the tears from his eyes. "I'll get you out of here Avon. I'll take you somewhere you can die in peace."

Blake tossed Avon over his shoulder and headed out.

A woman passed him in the hallway.

He grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. "Where are the emergency flyers? Where!"

"Section Four, down the corridor. But you can't--you..." She opened her mouth to scream.

Blake grabbed her by the throat and snapped her neck. As she slowly made her way down the wall, he took the blaster from her side.

He left a trail of bodies on the way to the hanger. It didn't matter, they weren't real and it was more expedient. He wanted this nightmare to finish as quickly as possible.

**********

Avon let out a groan and rubbed his eyes. He always hated coming down from the drug, the way his body would protest against the emptiness of reality. The way it yearned for more dusk.

He opened his eyes.

What--where the hell was he? He was in what looked like a cold, dark basement. He looked around. There was a table with a dimly lit torch and the cot he was lying on. Wonderful. He--

A movement in the shadows caught his eye. "Blake," he said, before he could stop himself.

"You said that already." Blake stood at the far wall, glaring at him.

"Did I?" He forced his voice to be steady. "What happened?"

"Earthquake. I got us to a flyer. The onboard computer had this bunker on file. Convenient."

"You were always lucky." He sat up.

"If you say so." Blake's voice was curiously flat and he didn't like it.

"I thought you were dead."

"And I know you are."

"What?" He blinked.

Blake walked over and sat down. He looked as if he were waiting for Avon to shoot him...again. He reached out and ran his knuckles along Avon's jaw. "I wish you wouldn't torture me. I won't do it anymore. You can scream all you want but I won't kill you."

Avon stared into Blake's eyes. "You're insane."

"Oh no, I know the difference between dreams and reality. You're here, so it's a dream. It's only real when I'm alone." Blake ran a thumb over Avon's lips. "Why haven't you started to rot yet? Why are you still warm?"

Avon felt his throat tighten. "Tell me about your dreams."

"They make me kill you. You and Jenna and Cally and Vila. Sometimes Gan too." Blake frowned. "That's when I first realized it wasn't real. I couldn't kill Gan, he died on Earth. Because of me, but not by me." His fingers traced the curve of Avon's ear.

"This isn't a dream."

"Oh but it is. You're warm now, but not for long." Blake's fingers hovered over the skin at the pulse in his throat. "If I touch you there, I won't feel anything."

"Yes you will."

"No." He snatched his hand away. "I won't."

"What have they done to you?"

"'And I had done a hellish thing, and it would work 'em woe: For all averred, I had killed the bird that made the breeze to blow. Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, that made the breeze to blow!'"

Avon shook his head.

"'The Night-mare Life-in-death was he, who thicks man's blood with cold.'" Blake pressed his mouth savagely to Avon's.

He froze for a second, allowing Blake to shove him back and straddle him. Before he could struggle Blake ripped open his shirt and shoved it down his arms. An effective, if crude way to pin his arms. He struggled.

Blake bit his lip, drawing blood. He ran his hands over Avon's chest and he ground their hips together. "Turn into a corpse, damn you!"

"Is that what you want Blake? A corpse?"

Blake's hands slipped over his shoulders then down his arms. His fingers lingered on the insides of his elbows. He pulled back.

"Don't," Avon said, but did not move away. He turned his head, his face burning.

Blake traced the skin there. "I don't think I like this version of you, Avon."

"You're not exactly roses either."

His fingers moved towards the wrist, pressed at the veins. Then as if burned, he snatched his hand back and scrambled away. He fell to the ground.

Avon looked at him, at the stunned look in his eyes. The fear.

"No, you're not supposed to have a pulse."

"This isn't a nightmare."

"Avon would never let them..."

Suddenly tired, he sighed. "Do you think I was given a choice?"

"You're dead," Blake sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "I saw you die the first time. I won't let you trick me. I won't!"

Avon felt anger and disgust well up inside him. He turned his back to Blake and closed his eyes. Blake could cry as much as he'd like, Avon was tired.

**********

They tried to trick him, but he was cleverer than that. Loneliness meant reality. He didn't have to wait long for Avon to start dying. In less than a day, he was shivering and complaining of the heat. He watched Avon curl up in agony, his body soaked in sweat.

It confused him. This Avon did not ask for death. Even his smell was different. He smelled not of the sickly sweet smell of death, but the sharp and metallic tang of sweat.

He got up from the floor and went to the other room. He filled a metal cup from the sink and took it back. Then he sat on the cot, placing his hand against the back of Avon's neck. "Drink this."

"Go 'way." Avon's teeth were chattering.

"You should drink." Ah, would he never stop playing the game.

"I don't need water. I need...dusk. Blake, I need dusk."

Blake stroked the hair from his forehead. "There are no drugs here."

"You could go back to the base." Avon looked at him with reddened eyes.

He swallowed hard and ignored the comment. Dream or not, he would never go back. "Are you cold?"

"Yes." Avon pressed his face to the pillow.

"There are extra blankets in some of the other rooms. When it gets light, I'll go get them."

"I'm cold now." Avon sat up and took the cup. He spilt most of the water on his clothes.

When he was finished drinking, Blake took the cup. "It's dark."

Avon collapsed back on the bed. "Take the torch."

"No, you need it here." Blake shook his head and covered Avon with the blanket. "There are things in the dark. Dead things."

"Blake." Avon sighed.

"Here." He crawled into bed and pulled Avon close.

"Don't you mind, holding a dead man?" Avon's voice was muffled against his neck.

Blake rubbed his back in slow circles and whispered. "I can feel your heart this way. I don't want to kill you, please don't make me kill you."

"You're the last person I'd ask to kill me."

"You say that now. Oh god, please don't die Avon. Please." He pressed his lips to Avon's forehead.

"I'm not going to die Blake."

"You promise?" Hope, ridiculously, flared inside him.

"Yes, I promise."

Blake moaned and squeezed him.

**********

"Please, Blake, I need it. Just a little. All it takes is a quick trip to the base." He panted and clutched the pillow to his stomach. It hurt, it hurt so much. If Blake wouldn't get it for him, he would have to find another way.

Blake held him in his lap, and stroked his hair. "Don't worry, it'll be over soon."

"Dammit, I don't need platitudes." He shoved away Blake's hand and crouched at the foot of the bed. "I need dusk. Please Blake, I'm begging you." Sweat stung his eyes.

Blake reached out and took him by the shoulders. He stroked Avon, gently.

Avon collapsed against him. "I'm going to be sick."

He didn't flinch when Avon vomited on him. He brushed the hair from Avon's face and rubbed the back of his neck, murmuring reassuringly. When he finished, Blake placed a kiss on his hair and cleaned up.

**********

Naked and clean, he held Avon in his arms. His skin was clammy to the touch, but Blake forced himself not to pull away.

Avon clung to him, whimpering softly.

"Did you know that I lost both my parents by the time I was twenty-one?"

"N-no."

"My dad died in a transporter accident. My mum, she was from the outer worlds." Blake swallowed hard and closed his eyes against the insistent burning of tears. "They changed the type of suppressants in the water. She was poisoned, slowly. I watched her fade away. The med-techs couldn't do anything for her, or so they said."

"I'm sorry." Avon's breath was light against the skin of his throat.

"I took care of my brother and sister after she died. I'll take care of you too."

"I'm not a child."

"If you were, I'd sing to you like I sang to Aerin. She used to love singing."

One of Avon's hands tangled into Blake's hair. "Everything hurts."

"I know. But there's nothing I can do to stop the pain."

"You could--"

"No."

"You're killing me."

The hand in his hair clutched painfully and he winced. "Yes."

"I hate you," Avon sobbed.

"I know. Oh, Avon, I know."

**********

He ached. His whole body yearned for the euphoria of dusk. It made him shiver with need, nauseated with longing. He was going to be sick again. He was going to start begging again.

He clutched Blake, burying his face into the warmth of his chest, and hated himself for it.

Blake murmured in his sleep, pressing his hand more firmly to Avon's back. It was important to him to feel Avon's heartbeat. The night before Avon had moved from his grasp and Blake had panicked. His jaw still hurt.

Avon closed his eyes and let Blake's breath lull him to sleep.

He woke to the soft whispering of Blake's voice in his ear. "Please don't die. I'll do anything you want if you don't die. I love you and I don't think I could take it if I had to kill you again."

Avon moved against him and tilted his head up.

"I want to believe you. I want to believe that you're real but I'm not sure I know anymore. I thought I did. I--"

He pressed his mouth to Blake's, tasting salt. Then he broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. "You said you always trusted me. Was that a lie?"

"No, only it's more complicated now. They shattered me, and I don't think I can put myself back together."

"You can, you will. We both will."

Blake laughed. "What did they do to you, that you're so optimistic?"

"You insult me." He smiled. "This isn't optimism. They drugged me into passivity...until I was addicted. Servalan drugged me. I burn, Blake. Every cell in my body burns for dusk. And I want her to burn too. I want to destroy everything she's built up, to disassemble, piece by piece, all she's created. I want to watch the arrogance fade from her eyes as I strip away all she's prided herself in: her beauty, her independence, her power."

"Revenge."

Avon shook his head. "Justice."

He laughed. "Justice, revenge, what's the difference?"

"Once, you might have said there was a considerable difference. What do you want, Blake?"

"I want to sleep without dreaming of death. I want the stain of blood to wash off my hands. I want to live." Blake stroked his temple. "I'm old, Avon. I tried rebellion, and I failed. Let someone else try now."

"You're giving up." He pushed himself away.

"I'm accepting the situation." Blake caught his hand. "When I touch you, I don't know that I'm feeling you. Dreams and reality, they're one for me now."

"They always were."

Blake shook his head. "I understood the possibilities. There's a difference. There are no more possibilities. There is only life and death."

"And you choose life." He curled himself into a ball.

"You're shivering." Blake hauled him to his feet and dragged him to the shower. He stripped Avon down and pulled him under the warm water.

Avon lifted his head, let the water into his mouth, and drip down his neck. Blake held him from behind.

"Are you all right?"

Avon didn't reply. He didn't know how to tell Blake that he felt empty without it. Of course, Blake already knew. Of course he knew.

Blake kissed the side of his neck. "It'll be all right for you."

He leaned back into the embrace. "But not for you?"

Instead of replying, Blake turned off the water. Then he dried Avon slowly, gently. "Will you be okay while I change the sheets?"

Avon nodded and leaned up against the sink. He contemplated his image in the mirror. When had he become so old? He touched the gray at his temples.

"You're beautiful."

He looked at Blake's reflection. "And you're an idiot."

Blake held out his hand.

Avon turned and took it. He let himself be led back to the main room.

**********

"No." Blake turned his back to Avon. "I like it here. We can be safe here."

"I'm not staying. I told you, I'm going to destroy Servalan."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Avon was leaving, leaving him alone. He couldn't go, he just couldn't. "I wish you luck."

"Do you still see death when you look at me?"

"No, I see life. That's why I can't go with you." Blake opened his eyes. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue. He imagined that if he looked hard enough, he could see stars. "I won't see you die."

"Can you live with the nightmares?" Avon touched his shoulder.

"Can you live with your addiction?"

"I'll be leaving then."

"All right." Blake licked his lips and sighed. "Avon?"

"Yes."

"I carry your heartbeat in my memory."

"Your memory has always been unreliable."

"It's all I have left to offer." He watched a cloud float across the sky.

"Come with me." Avon sounded strained.

"Don't go." He smiled and enjoyed the breeze that tousled his hair.

"I can't let you stay."

Blake wasn't startled when he felt the blaster press against his spine. "You'll have to kill me. I don't mind, I've killed you many times."

There was a long pause, then Avon let out a frustrated groan.

The blaster made a muted thump as it fell to the ground. Avon's arms wrapped around him, and he could feel hot breath and tears on the back of his neck. "Please come with me. I need you. I need you more than I ever needed dusk. If you stay, I really will die."

Blake gasped and pulled from Avon's embrace. "That's unfair. Damn you, that's unfair."

"It's true. I love you."

He grabbed Avon by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "You're a fool. You'll never get your justice."

"I have to try."

"And I suppose I have to help you, don't I?"

"It's only fair." Avon reached up and stroked the hair from his face. "I can keep us safe."

Blake knew that was untrue, but that was all right. He couldn't choose life for himself, but he could keep death away from Avon.

**********

In the cabin of their new spaceship Avon made sure there was window looking out into space. That way, no matter how dark the room was, there was always a little starlight for Blake.

-----
END