Last week's b7friday topic was bad luck. 400 words, set in season 4.
Cat and Mouse
"I can't believe it," said Vila. "Servalan again. Everywhere we go, everything we try to do, she turns up, and about as welcome as a warg at a wedding." He took a swig of Dorian's best red wine and stared morosely into his glass.
"She is the commissioner of the closest Federation sector, Vila," Avon said coldly.
"Yeah, well, she should bloody well stay there." Vila refilled his glass. "Swanning about ruining it for innocent people--"
Soolin smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Innocent, Vila?"
"Well, relatively. I mean, once or twice is bad luck, but this is ridiculous. No one has a run of luck like that. Stands to reason you get some ups and downs, but not all downs."
"You're still alive. That should be good enough for you, if not us." Avon took the bottle and slammed it down out of Vila's reach, so hard that ruby liquid spotted his hand.
Vila slumped further down the couch and said nothing. Best not to provoke Avon when he turned nasty, and that was all too often these days. Even Tarrant looked subdued; hell, even his curls had gone all droopy. Dayna was sullenly cleaning her clipgun and Soolin was sitting slightly apart, looking detached and amused as usual. Wasn't worth making a joke; none of this lot would laugh. Not like the old days when he could break the tension with a bit of humour. Just added to it now.
Avon looked at the droplets on the back of his hand. He already had Cally's blood on them; how long until there was more? And how long until they worked out that a run of such bad luck was beyond the realms of coincidence, that one of them must be being tracked? And that someone was probably him, given that Servalan had him in her hands on Terminal. He'd scanned himself for implants, but there were so many other methods that were undetectable without the right equipment, like controlled particle emission.
He stood up, angrily shook the liquid from his hand and strode out, slamming the door behind him. Servalan was playing with them. It was only a matter of time before she tired of the game and put her paw into their mousehole.
He ran the tap and scrubbed savagely at his hands. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take the tension. And the guilt.