Pwysedd Pwynt

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I visited Portmeirion (the Village in Wales where the exterior shots of The Prisoner were filmed) and began thinking odd thoughts... well, not so terribly odd for me.

Pwysedd Pwynt *

by

Willa Shakespeare

*In case it isn't obvious, that's *supposed* to be Welsh for 'Pressure Point', but I'm not sure the internet translator is all that accurate. It may mean 'Pinch Sharp End'- which wouldn't be a bad title for a B/A, would it?

    Veron climbed swiftly, her youth and military conditioning helping her easily outstrip the others. "I can't come with you," she said just before she was too far away for a normal speaking voice to carry, "I must try to rally the other rebels on Earth. Mother... mother taught me enough that I can be of more use here than with Blake." She disappeared beyond the next level.

    Jenna paused and looked down the ladder. "Where is Blake?"

   "Wasn't he with Gan, right behind us?" Vila said. He looked down, past Avon, to the corridor below, then yelped and clung to the metal rung directly beneath Jenna's heels.

    "Avon, you're closest to them," Jenna said, making it a question.

"Am I?" Avon said softly. He looked down. "Go on." He shifted his grip to the outside of the ladder and slid down to the floor. He paused to stare up at Jenna, who hadn't moved. "Blake won't thank you if you lose the ship waiting for him," he commented and then ran back down the corridor.

    "Go on, Jenna," Vila urged. She shook her head, but started climbing again. They hadn't reached the top when they were flattened against the ladder by a wave of debris-laden wind accompanied by a rolling, rumbling noise that rattled their bones and numbed their minds.

"What blew up?" Vila asked after he got his breath back.

    "Go down and find out."

    "You're joking!"

    "How long do you think we'll last, just the three of us?" Jenna began moving down, forcing Vila to retreat.

    "Longer than we will waiting around here for Travis," Vila grumbled, but he was already sliding down. They had barely entered the corridor when a large gray shape approached out of the dust-clouded gloom.

    "Blake?"

    "Jenna," replied a weary voice from the right-hand side of the shape. The white dust cloud parted to reveal Gan, Avon and Blake. They were all filthy, and the side of Avon's face was smeared with blood. He hung limply between Blake and Gan, head down and feet dragging.

    "We've got to get out of here, now, Blake," Jenna said, glancing at Avon, then back at the ladder.

    Blake nodded. "We will. Gan?"

    "Tie him to my back, I'll manage."

*******

    Blake opened his eyes, staring blankly up at a metal ceiling. He was on Liberator. Memory rushed in and he bolted upright, reassuring himself that he was in his own cabin, with Cally sitting at his side.

    "Lie still," Cally said, pushing on his shoulders. "Jenna has taken us safely away from Earth. You need to rest. You had a concussion and then you passed out from teleport shock."

    "Central control." Blake shut his eyes and sighed. "It was all for nothing. A delusion. A snare." He opened his eyes and smiled ruefully at Cally. "At least we got away."

    Cally did not return his smile.

    "What's wrong?" Blake asked.

   "Avon. He apparently responded well to treatment, but he is incoherent."

    "Where is he?" Blake was on his feet and zipping up his jacket before Cally could answer.

    "In his cabin. I had hoped that familiar surroundings would help. Gan is with him."

    Blake paused outside Avon's cabin, took a deep breath, then entered. Avon was standing, scowling, arms crossed, near the bed, with Gan in an uneasy guard position near the door.

    "Blake." Gan looked relieved and stepped aside to allow Cally and Blake to come in.

    Blake nodded to Gan, then turned his attention to Avon. Avon was still dressed in red leather, with no visible injuries thanks to Liberator's advanced healing equipment, but looked somehow different.

    "Avon?" Blake asked.

Avon said, "Pwy ydych chi?"

Who are you?

Blake was stunned. Cally said, "You see, he is totally irrational."

"No, he's not." Blake pointed at his own chest and said, "Roj Blake ydw i."	I'm Roj Blake.

Avon grinned and ran a hand through his hair, deliberately tousling it. "Caer Afon ydw i. Shw mae, o ma'r diawl prydweddol."

I'm Caer Afon (Fort by the River). Hello, you handsome devil.

     Blake blushed. Cally and Gan looked at Blake. Blake cleared his throat. "He's speaking Welsh."

    "Welsh?" Gan asked, glancing at Cally who indicated her puzzlement with raised eyebrows.

   Blake explained,"Despite the Federation's attempt at standardization, there are still some planets that keep the old languages alive. I was born on a Welsh world- Newydd Port Meirion."

Avon nodded and pointed to himself. "Rydw i'n dod o Portmeirion. Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogoerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch."

I'm from Port Meirion. St. Mary's Church of the pool of the white hazel near the rushing whirlpool, St. Tysilio's church, near the red cave.

"Avon says he's from Port Meirion," Blake translated.

    "So the head-trauma has made him forget everything that happened to him after he left?" Gan said, wrinkling his brow in thought.

    "It seems that way." Blake couldn't take his eyes off Avon, who was not only still smiling at him, but had progressed to batting his eyelashes and licking his lips. "Since I'm the only one who can communicate with Avon at the moment, there's no need for either of you to remain."

    Cally frowned. "I am not certain that is wise, Blake. Avon is not himself."

    "That's all right, Cally. I'm sure we understand each other."

*******

Five minutes later, Avon was clasped in Blake's arms, waltzing around the room to piped-in music courtesy of Zen. "Rydw i'n methu dawnsio, ond rydych chi'n gallu cusanu."

I can't dance, but you can kiss.

   "Can I, now?" Blake said, gazing ever so slightly down into Avon's eyes.

"Cewch. Ynteu ni medru cynchu." Avon's eyelashes swept down, then back up again in time to catch the answering glint in Blake's eyes.

Yes (you can). Or we can fuck.

Blake kissed Avon, then broke off and pulled back. "You understood me. Is this all a game, Avon?"

"Beth? Beth sy'n bod?" Avon's eyes were wide and innocent. He looked at the bed.

What? What's the matter?

"Hmm... no, I think we'd better not. Dod am dro at bwrdd llong."

Come for a walk to the flight deck.

Avon pouted, but went with Blake to the flight deck.

Jenna looked up warily as they entered.

Blake said, "This is Jenna. Mae hi'n Cyfarwyddwr llongau."

She's the ship's pilot.

Avon nodded politely and said, "Shw mae, Jenna."

Hello, Jenna.

    "Avon!" Vila leaped up from the flight deck couch, nearly spilling his drink. "Um, Cally said you were... well, I'm glad to see you're all right. Even though you're not quite all right, are you, if you can't talk to us and remember us, not that I blame you entirely because there have been a lot of things I'd like to forget myself..."

    From his seat next to Vila, Gan said, "Oh, sit down Vila. It's only Avon."

    "That's easy for you to say," Vila replied, "but what do I do when he insults me and I don't even know what he's saying?"

Avon looked at Vila, then said to Blake, "Mae e'n feddw."

He is drunk.

   Blake coughed. Vila told Gan, "See what I mean?" then asked Blake, "Well, what did he say?"

    "He said you were drunk, which of course you are," Orac replied from its perch atop a small table before the couch.

    Jenna asked, "You speak Welsh?"

    "Naturally. I am fluent in every form of communication which has been preserved on any computer, anywhere."

    "Say something in Welsh, then," Vila demanded.

"Very well. Mae'n y cyfrifiadur gorau bob amser."

I am the finest computer ever.

"Rydw i'n dy garu di!" Avon cried out.

I love you.

Blake jumped, startled to see Avon leaning over Orac's case, caressing the plastic with both hands.

    "Er, Avon, you can't love Orac. It's only a machine," Blake said, and began trying to pry Avon off the computer.

   Orac replied, "Could a mere machine have modified the healing unit so that Avon would fall in love with the one who spoke to him in his native tongue?"

    "In case you hadn't noticed, I speak Welsh," Blake said.

    Orac paused, then said, "Have you considered a menage a trois?"

    Blake shook Avon off, picked Orac up and flung the computer across the flight deck. "Oh, Blake, have you betrayed me?" Orac whispered, then went silent as all its little lights flickered and failed.

    Avon looked at the computer, then at Blake. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted into Blake's arms. Vila and Gan stared at the two of them. Jenna said, exasperated, "Honestly, Blake, it was bad enough when you kept falling into his arms."

    Blake shrugged as best he could with an armful of unconscious Avon. "Let's just get Avon back to normal, shall we? Without Orac's interference, the healing unit should work properly this time. Jenna, call Cally and have her meet me in the medical unit."

    Vila muttered to Gan as they watched Blake carry Avon off, "Avon? Normal? The two don't go together, do they?"

*******

    "Now, tell me again how Orac wound up in this condition?" Avon demanded to know, waving a laser probe over the dismantled computer for emphasis. The rest of the crew gathered on the flight deck turned to Blake, showing a unanimity that would have been heartening under nearly any other circumstances.

    "We're not certain without Orac to confirm it, but we might have encountered a space-warp at the time you were being teleported up from Earth," Blake said mendaciously, while lounging on the flight deck with his arms flung out casually so that his floppy sleeves weren't quite touching either Jenna, on his left, or Avon, on his right. "We were lucky that the only damage was to Orac."

    Gan looked righteous for a moment, then apparently thought better about explaining to Avon what had really happened and turned his attention back to the game of computer solitaire he had set up on his monitor.

    "And to me," Avon said sourly, gingerly touching his temple.

    "Never mind," Jenna said. "You keep telling us what a hard-headed realist you are."

    Avon granted her a low-power glare. Jenna grinned back at him.

    Cally said, "If you are feeling unwell, you should return to the medical unit."

    Avon shook his head. "No, thank you. I prefer the headache to lying flat on my back at your mercy."

    "Maybe you need to eat something." Vila put a tray full of small, brightly colored objects in front of Avon's face.

    "What are they?" Avon asked suspiciously, as Blake picked one up and bit into it.

    "Welsh fairy cakes."

Blake choked and Avon helpfully whacked him on the back, taking advantage of the situation to lean in close and whisper into Blake's ear, "Mae caru tylwyth teg Cymroaidd."

I like ( love) Welsh fairies.

Avon grinned, and Blake slowly let his arm fall from the top of the couch to settle around Avon's shoulder. Their eyes met and they fell silent.

Jenna looked at them, frowned, then shrugged, sat up and asked, "Are any of the cakes chocolate?"

--
Willa Shakespeare---The Bawd of Avon