my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
[personal profile] my_b7_fic
Word Count:495

Blake screamed and thrashed on the medical bed. "Renounce, renounce!" Avon clung to him, alternately chopping Blake on the neck to distract him and shouting, "E. Z." in his ears.

Blake opened glazed eyes and stared at Avon. "What the hell does E.Z. mean?"

"I'm not sure, but it was in the rebel's first-aid manual."

Blake rubbed his neck. "Damn, I'm sore. What happened?"

Avon looked innocent. Blake stared at him. "Avon?"

"You might have hit something whilst thrashing about." Avon massaged the edge of his hand. "Possibly."

Blake rolled his eyes. "You're no good at hand-to-hand, Avon."

Avon pouted. "What was the dream about this time?"

Blake's eyes glazed again and he quoted, in an eerie, reverberating voice,"Reports that say something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."

Avon's eyes filled with pity. "Oh, that's foul. Using Donald Rumsfield quotes." He patted Blake's shoulders. "It could be worse."

"It was," Blake sobbed. "Bushisms! They... (his voice changed, becoming a grating whine), "I just want you to know that, when we talk about war, we're really talking about peace. People say, how can I help on this war against terror? How can I fight evil? You can do so by mentoring a child; by going into a shut-in's house and say I love you. I'm the commander — see, I don't need to explain — I do not need to explain why I say things. That's the interesting thing about being president. There's only one person who hugs the mothers and the widows, the wives and the kids upon the death of their loved one. Others hug but having committed the troops, I've got an additional responsibility to hug and that's me and I know what it's like."

Avon screamed in anguish. "No! No, I can't stand anymore!" He pulled his gun out. "I have to do it, Blake!"

"Yes, do it, Avon! Do it! You know you've wanted to since you first met me!"

Jenna strode into the room and bashed Avon over the head with a bedpan (empty). She looked down at the fallen gun. "Oh, sorry. I misunderstood." Jenna dragged Avon to an empty bed.

"Misunderstood what? Avon was going to put me out of my misery."

"Erm. Yes." Jenna ran a healing pad over the bump on Avon's head. "You know there's a much simpler way of stopping those awful memories from going around in your mind."

"There is?" Avon sat up groggily. "Then why did you go through the deconditioning sessions with Blake?"

"It's fairly drastic." Jenna pursed her lips, and then nodded. "But I think it's necessary." She turned on the headset and put it on Blake's head. "Listen."

(note: originally the last word in the story was linked to a midi of 'The Third Man' theme, full of zithers and impossible to get out of your...drat, now I've thought of it and I'll be hearing it for an hour.)


my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)

December 2011

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