Our Hopes and Expectations
Jun. 8th, 2025 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Blake's 7 (probably series A/season 1, but otherwise ambiguously set) (Black Holes and Revelations)
Chapter Summary: The rest of the crew noticed Avon's uncharacteristic behavior, and once they've finished treating Blake Jenna was elected to go confront Avon about it.
Word Count: 875
Rating: Teen
He stays, watching them attempt to treat Blake, for about as long as he dares, then retreats. He’s not caught unawares having his first visitor in his own quarters after an amount of time he can’t quite place, but is somewhat surprised to find it’s Jenna.
“I know what I said, but I’m wrong, aren’t I? You care, in your own way.” It’s pity he sees in her eyes, and that’s intolerable.
“Out,” he orders, and she doesn’t move. Why should she? No one on this ship listens to anyone’s orders other than Blake.
“Given that we’re all concerned about a threat to the Liberator, I’m not moving until I have my answers.” She’d been elected to confront him, then.
Well. It’s not as if Blake wouldn’t announce this on his own like it’s some kind of trophy, anyway. Perhaps it’s better if he gets a small victory in first. The last he’s likely to have. “Do you happen to have a Link, Jenna?”
There’s yet more of that infernal pity. “I don’t. But you do, with Blake.” She’s smarter than he gave her credit for. He hadn’t had to spell it out. “But surely you should have known.”
He uses the flattest look in his repertoire. “What a clever idea, Jenna, when sharing names or identifying features in the course of deliberately acknowledging the Link and not taking blockers is a criminal offense.”
“Oh, all right.” But she’s looking thoughtful, not cowed. “But once you were on a prison ship, surely you needn’t have kept quiet, and yet you were willing to abandon him on Cygnus Alpha.”
Must he spell all of it out? “As far as I knew,” he responds lightly, “...the man I was Linked to died four years ago.” He doesn’t share more than necessary, such as the attempt, equally as doomed, to move on. That the act of...not breaking the Link, but rendering it inoperable, somehow, has to have been something the Federation had done. Much as he despairs of the intelligence of his fellow crewmates, she’s at least clever enough to have worked that part out. For all he knew, the stifling silence where once the sense that he was at least not alone had been could easily have broken Blake far more effectively than anything else his torturers could ever have devised, and he hates, hates that he could have been used as a pawn in such a scheme.
At least the thoughtfulness has turned away from his direction. “You’ve touched him before now...was it something in his conditioning, then, breaking?”
It’s possible, but unlikely, he feels. “Not skin-to-skin.” It’s possible he’s missed an instance, but rather improbable. He doesn’t, as a rule, like touching others, or them touching him. If he absolutely must, clothes at least make the whole process slightly less intolerable. “It felt like completing a circuit.” There is, of course, the question of ‘what happens now’. “He’ll be insufferable.”
“I shouldn’t complain, particularly if you’re likely to stay,” Jenna states lightly. The look in her eyes suggests that he’s been rather underestimating her.
“Explain,” he demands, and her smile isn’t nice.
“I don’t like how you say it, and I think many of Blake’s ideas are good ones, but if you could intervene early and help him plan more thoroughly, I’d like it better. I would say, Avon, take care. You mean a good deal to him—it was clear even before I knew why—but Blake’s hurt. The romantic in him will be utterly pleased. The revolutionary will panic at another vulnerability. You mustn’t let him put you off.”
Some part of him is pleased—see, you’re a good deal easier to tolerate when you’re honest and make little pretense of trying to live up to Blake’s ideals in some misguided idea that fake fanaticism will impress him. The rest is growing fed up with the notion that he is just some thing to be used—by Blake, by anyone on this ship. “Oh, mustn’t I? For your own good, I suppose.”
That’s certainly no apology in her expression. Perhaps more pity, though she might phrase it as ‘sympathy’. “Hardly. For both of you. I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with anything less, now.”
He swallows and looks away. That’s too uncanny to be a guess. “What’s wrong with him, more than the usual?” At least that’s a slight change of subject.
“Infection, from torture he didn’t feel the need to inform any of us about.” Not being the only one to complain about Blake for once feels even more alienating than being at odds with everyone on the ship. At least that’s familiar. “He’ll be all right, but he’s developed a fever. I should think he’ll be even more vulnerable coming out of it.” With one last pointed look she leaves Avon to his thoughts (and, damnably, Blake’s), though if anything he manages to be even less coherent asleep than awake. Avon hadn’t needed to have a glimpse into the nightmares, either. With a snarl, he finally gets up and gets to work; there’s some non-critical systems he’d been putting off repairing, but as a distraction it’ll do and with any luck some of that might transfer to Avon’s newest jailor, too.
Blake's 7 (probably series A/season 1, but otherwise ambiguously set) (Black Holes and Revelations)
Chapter Summary: The rest of the crew noticed Avon's uncharacteristic behavior, and once they've finished treating Blake Jenna was elected to go confront Avon about it.
Word Count: 875
Rating: Teen
He stays, watching them attempt to treat Blake, for about as long as he dares, then retreats. He’s not caught unawares having his first visitor in his own quarters after an amount of time he can’t quite place, but is somewhat surprised to find it’s Jenna.
“I know what I said, but I’m wrong, aren’t I? You care, in your own way.” It’s pity he sees in her eyes, and that’s intolerable.
“Out,” he orders, and she doesn’t move. Why should she? No one on this ship listens to anyone’s orders other than Blake.
“Given that we’re all concerned about a threat to the Liberator, I’m not moving until I have my answers.” She’d been elected to confront him, then.
Well. It’s not as if Blake wouldn’t announce this on his own like it’s some kind of trophy, anyway. Perhaps it’s better if he gets a small victory in first. The last he’s likely to have. “Do you happen to have a Link, Jenna?”
There’s yet more of that infernal pity. “I don’t. But you do, with Blake.” She’s smarter than he gave her credit for. He hadn’t had to spell it out. “But surely you should have known.”
He uses the flattest look in his repertoire. “What a clever idea, Jenna, when sharing names or identifying features in the course of deliberately acknowledging the Link and not taking blockers is a criminal offense.”
“Oh, all right.” But she’s looking thoughtful, not cowed. “But once you were on a prison ship, surely you needn’t have kept quiet, and yet you were willing to abandon him on Cygnus Alpha.”
Must he spell all of it out? “As far as I knew,” he responds lightly, “...the man I was Linked to died four years ago.” He doesn’t share more than necessary, such as the attempt, equally as doomed, to move on. That the act of...not breaking the Link, but rendering it inoperable, somehow, has to have been something the Federation had done. Much as he despairs of the intelligence of his fellow crewmates, she’s at least clever enough to have worked that part out. For all he knew, the stifling silence where once the sense that he was at least not alone had been could easily have broken Blake far more effectively than anything else his torturers could ever have devised, and he hates, hates that he could have been used as a pawn in such a scheme.
At least the thoughtfulness has turned away from his direction. “You’ve touched him before now...was it something in his conditioning, then, breaking?”
It’s possible, but unlikely, he feels. “Not skin-to-skin.” It’s possible he’s missed an instance, but rather improbable. He doesn’t, as a rule, like touching others, or them touching him. If he absolutely must, clothes at least make the whole process slightly less intolerable. “It felt like completing a circuit.” There is, of course, the question of ‘what happens now’. “He’ll be insufferable.”
“I shouldn’t complain, particularly if you’re likely to stay,” Jenna states lightly. The look in her eyes suggests that he’s been rather underestimating her.
“Explain,” he demands, and her smile isn’t nice.
“I don’t like how you say it, and I think many of Blake’s ideas are good ones, but if you could intervene early and help him plan more thoroughly, I’d like it better. I would say, Avon, take care. You mean a good deal to him—it was clear even before I knew why—but Blake’s hurt. The romantic in him will be utterly pleased. The revolutionary will panic at another vulnerability. You mustn’t let him put you off.”
Some part of him is pleased—see, you’re a good deal easier to tolerate when you’re honest and make little pretense of trying to live up to Blake’s ideals in some misguided idea that fake fanaticism will impress him. The rest is growing fed up with the notion that he is just some thing to be used—by Blake, by anyone on this ship. “Oh, mustn’t I? For your own good, I suppose.”
That’s certainly no apology in her expression. Perhaps more pity, though she might phrase it as ‘sympathy’. “Hardly. For both of you. I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with anything less, now.”
He swallows and looks away. That’s too uncanny to be a guess. “What’s wrong with him, more than the usual?” At least that’s a slight change of subject.
“Infection, from torture he didn’t feel the need to inform any of us about.” Not being the only one to complain about Blake for once feels even more alienating than being at odds with everyone on the ship. At least that’s familiar. “He’ll be all right, but he’s developed a fever. I should think he’ll be even more vulnerable coming out of it.” With one last pointed look she leaves Avon to his thoughts (and, damnably, Blake’s), though if anything he manages to be even less coherent asleep than awake. Avon hadn’t needed to have a glimpse into the nightmares, either. With a snarl, he finally gets up and gets to work; there’s some non-critical systems he’d been putting off repairing, but as a distraction it’ll do and with any luck some of that might transfer to Avon’s newest jailor, too.
