New Avengers Snippets!
Jul. 10th, 2006 10:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfan3. House of Cards
Oct 18 06
Disclaimer: The New Avengers are copyrighted, but not by me. I think Canal+ or Mark One Productions owns the rights at the moment. Which means, of course, that this is fanfic – me playing in someone else's sandbox. Even moreso, anything in dark blue is a scene taken straight from the screen, dialogue and all, that either didn't hit the novelizations, or that didn't hit them in a way that satisfied my sense of the character arcs that I'm exploring. Links to quotes and screencaps (where they appear) are courtesy of bromfield hall.
As a rule
*** means I'm still adding onto a piece or scene and
### means I'm satisfied with that bit for now.
---
http://www.bromfieldhall.co.uk/tnaquotes13.htm
http://www.bromfieldhall.co.uk/cardspics.htm
Summary: For them as hasn't seen it lately: When Steed, Gambit, Purdey, and another agent snatch a defector back from an ignominious return to Moscow from under Ivan Perov's nose, Perov fakes his own death and activates the titular "house of cards", sleeper agents, assassins, who have been planted in England for twenty years.
</>
Scenes
"He tried to kill me."
"Why?" For one awful moment she thought that it might be because of her.
Gambit didn't answer in words, just pushed the pasteboard fragment into her hands and staggered towards the door.
She turned it in her fingers, staring at the name printed neatly in black ink on the reverse, and tried to absorb the news. There was no question of whether or not Gambit was telling the truth. The blood alone told her that – although the slump of the man's shoulders was even more eloquent of the shock he'd taken. He hadn't even remembered his coat or the squash bag, Purdey realized – nor that there were civilians who'd be startled unnecessarily if he kept going.
"Gambit, wait." She caught him up and steered him into a chair. "Give me a moment to change and then we'll call Steed. He'll want to know about this."
Gambit looked at her blankly, and then nodded, letting his eyes fall closed. He was sweating, and a brief touch on his cheek showed that his skin was clammy. Purdey peeled his hand away from the wound and tugged at his shirt tail so she could take a better look. "That's going to need stitches."
"It's not deep," Gambit muttered. "I don't think it is anyway."
She made a pad of her towel and put it over the wound, tying it into place with his necktie and thinking of Steed's axiom that a neckcloth was always useful. "It's bleeding like it is," she said. "You'd best stay here while I call."
He nodded again, but didn't argue, which was eloquent in and of itself. Purdey checked the hallway, to see if Spence had had any accomplices, and then went to the payphone and quickly dialed Steed's number. It rang several times before he picked up.
"Steed."
"Steed, it's Purdey. I'm calling from the gym. We've got trouble."
"So do I. One of my neighbors has just been killed – David Miller. Shot down as he was trying to tell me something."
"I'm sorry, Steed," Purdey said. She'd met David Miller once, when Steed was working with his horses.
"What kind of trouble have you got?" Steed asked.
"Spence just tried to kill Gambit."
She heard Steed suck at his teeth. "How badly are they hurt?"
"Spence is dead. Gambit's been stabbed, but he's still on his feet. Or he was, until I made him sit down. What do you want us to do?"
"Sit tight. I'll call Kendrick – he'll have to come and collect the body in any case, and he can give Gambit a once over."
"And then what?"
"Come here. I'm going to need you. Both of you, if Gambit's in any condition to be useful."
"Right." She rang off and went back to check on Gambit. He was breathing more evenly now, but he was still pale and sweating. "Steed's sending Kendrick here, and then he wants us there. He's had trouble too. A neighbor killed."
"That doesn't sound good," Gambit grunted, and tried to get up. Purdey put a hand on his shoulder to hold him down.
"There's no rush," she said.
"I just thought I'd best make sure that Spence isn't faking it," Gambit said. "He's pulled that trick before."
"I know," Purdey said, remembering the feel of the knife against her throat not ten minutes gone by. "I'll do it."
"Purdey…" Gambit caught her arm as she turned toward the gym. "Don't take any chances."
"I don't intend to." She looked around for a likely weapon and settled on a heavy ashtray.
But Spence was dead, in the event. The angle of his neck was echoed by an impossible angle in his back, and the blue eyes were stuck half-open and beginning to go dry. Purdey checked for a pulse very, very carefully and sighed when she couldn't find one. "I would have liked an explanation," she told the corpse. "Something. Anything that would have made some sense of this."
###
Fortunately for her patience, Dr. Kendrick and the "cleanup crew" didn't have far to come. Purdey spent the interim fetching out Gambit's coat and bag from the gym and resisting the temptation to sit on the injured man when he tried to pace and ended up back in the chair. Gambit, after that abortive attempt to soothe his restlessness, spent the time holding the towel to his side, rocking back and forth and cursing so softly that Purdey had to lip-read to catch even half the words.
She was more than half-convinced that Gambit had forgotten he wasn't alone; when he startled to his feet, taking a defensive stance as Dr. Kendrick came through the door, she was certain of it.
But James Kendrick had worked for the ministry for far too long to be alarmed by the sight of an agitated agent. He waved the mortuary team past, into the gym, and turned a grim face on Gambit. "Sit!" he ordered, bringing out his medical kit. "And take that shirt off."
But Gambit stayed on his feet, watching the new arrivals suspiciously. "I'll stay if you want me to, Mike," Purdey offered, understanding why, but impatient for the doctor to begin work. Gambit met her eyes and flushed.
"Sorry," he said, splitting the apology between her and the physician. He nodded at Kendrick, making a visible effort to lower his guard. "Do you want me on the table or in the chair?"
"Easier for me if you're lying on the table," Kendrick said, eyeing the blood-sodden towel and tie. He glanced doubtfully at Purdey. "Sure you're up for the view?"
She grinned, knowing that it was up to her to break the tension in the room. "What, Gambit with his shirt off? I'm planning on enjoying myself."
Gambit snorted, but he didn't ask her to leave, and he didn't object when she took hold of his hand after he'd lain down. In fact, he didn't start to relax until Kendrick had administered a local anaesthetic, and it was only after the first few sutures had gone into the three inch long wound that his grasp eased enough for her to feel her fingers again.
"How much longer?" he asked, not looking down to see.
"Five minutes," Kendrick said. "Ten at the most. You must have dodged."
"Not far enough," Gambit said. He looked up at Purdey, but she didn't have any answers for him. If Spence had tried to kill her, she'd have died, probably from sheer disbelief.
She looked for something else to talk about. "I think your shirt took most of the damage," she said, knowing it for a weak offering. "I'll have to run over to your apartment and fetch you another."
He shook his head. "Check in my locker. I always try to keep a few spare items there." He freed his hand and dug carefully into his pocket. "It's the little silver one," he said, passing a keyring to Purdey. "Locker number six."
"Now?"
"Yes. I'm in good hands." Gambit didn't look entirely confident of that, but she could respect the fact that he was trying. And surely Spence's strange behavior didn't mean that Kendrick had gone mad as well. "And you still haven't had a chance to change."
"All right then," she said, jingling the keys. "I shan't be long."
###
There were several shirts in Gambit's locker, and an assortment of ties to choose from. Purdey grabbed the first two that would match and went to the ladies' locker room and switched into her own streetclothes after sponging off the worst of the workout. She got back just as Kendrick was finishing up. "Keep these dry, change the dressing once a day, you know the drill," the physician told Gambit, taping some lint over the stitches.
"Right," Gambit said absently. He looked a thousand miles away, but his face had color in it again, and she thought he was moving more easily when he sat up and nodded his thanks to Kendrick. The doctor studied his patient with a considering eye and then turned to Purdey.
"I don't think the blade went deep enough to hit anything vital, but if he starts looking peaky, bring him in. And try to keep him from doing anything strenuous." He picked up his bag and jerked his head toward the gym door. "Are they ready for me in there, then?"
"I think so," Purdey said. They'd done taking pictures and were measuring things as she'd come back through the gym, but they'd need Kendrick before they could actually move the body.
"I'd prefer he spent a night at the infirmary, but I left my sledgehammer in my other suit," Kendrick observed sourly and headed off with his bag in his hand.
"Here," Purdey handed Gambit the clean shirt she'd found and held onto the tie as she watched him do up the buttons. "Do you think you're up to a visit to Steed's place?"
"I'll be all right," Gambit said. She noted that he didn't say that he was all right. "You haven't lost that piece of card, have you? Steed's going to want to see it."
"I've got it right here," she said, and tucked it into his suitjacket pocket before helping him shrug the jacket on. She looped the tie around his neck and made a neat four-in-hand knot, knowing perfectly well that he could have done it himself, but needing to touch him and not just stand by watching. She straightened his collar and jacket, fussing until everything lay as smooth as if he'd had an ordinary morning. "There. Now you look ready for anything."
The corner of his mouth quirked up into something that was nearly like his usual smile. "Even a dinner date? I did win."
"So you did," she said, relieved that he felt himself again enough to flirt, though her stomach was in such horrendous knots that food was the last thing she wanted. "Some place unusual, then? That neither of us has ever been?" Or are likely to ever go again.
"Sounds good." Gambit's eyes were nearly as bleak as her own, in spite of the smile, and she knew he was no more willing to link memories of what had just happened to their own corner of London than she was. "But we'd best get to Steed's first. Do you mind driving?"
"Not in the least."
###
It was late. She was tired. Purdey got in the door of her apartment and started losing layers, thinking only of which book she might read in the bath before she went to bed. She'd need something soothing to get her mind off of what had happened at Steed's. That made twice now that someone had tried to…
Her mind had barely registered the shape of the man sitting in the chair across the room before she found herself moving to get her silhouette out of the light from the bedroom. She reached the shadows and nearly had heart-failure when someone grabbed her from behind, but a glance showed her that it was Gambit. Instinct and adrenalin still being in charge of her body, she grabbed him by the lapel and hauled him along with her as she dived for the cover of the nearest chair.
</>
She ended up flat on the carpet, with Gambit braced over and alongside her protectively. "There's a man!" she hissed.
"I know," Gambit whispered back.
"With a gun!" she went on.
"Yes." Gambit didn't sound nearly alarmed enough.
"He's in that chair," Purdey insisted.
"Unconscious," Gambit said, and Purdey stiffened as her racing heart stumbled to a slower pace.
"What?" she asked, looking again at the intruder to see if Gambit were right.
"I got here just as he was breaking in, and clobbered him for you." Gambit rested his chin against her bare back. "He'll be out cold for a couple of hours I'd say."
Purdey rolled out from underneath Gambit and tried to make out his expression in the dim light. "Well, why didn't you tell me before? Why did you wait until I'd got…" she indicated her state of dishabille.
Gambit grinned, and gave her an appreciative once-over. "Silly question?" he asked, looking well-pleased.
"Silly question." Purdey snorted, and got to her feet, using him for a carpet as she stomped off to find her robe.
"Ugh!" Gambit's grunt reminded her that he'd been cut not that long ago, but as he popped upright without a fuss, she decided that she'd missed the stitches and should have aimed better.
"Gambit, you know one of these days…" The nerve of the man! What if she'd kept on stripping off? When would he have spoken up?
"You keep saying that," Gambit said.
She looked up to find him peering through the bead curtain and snapped, "Would you please get out of my bedroom?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." He nearly looked abashed as he let the beads fall back, but she wasn't about to let him get off that easily.
"It seems the golden age of chivalry is quite dead," she said, tying the belt of her robe like it was a karate ghi and she was about to head into combat.
"Not quite," Gambit replied, and something in his tone caught her attention and drew her towards him. "I mean, no more white chargers or dragons. But I did save your life." She felt her glare slipping as she pushed through the beads and studied his face. He was serious. She waited for him to provide proof, and as if he could read her mind he pulled a piece of pasteboard from behind her ear, like an illusionist producing a coin. Half a card. The queen of hearts. And her name written on the back. She looked again at Gambit, but he was looking at the intruder in the corner.
"He was carrying it," he said thoughtfully. Then he turned to her again, the light of an idea in his eyes as he counted on his fingers. "That completes the circle. You, me, Steed, Roland…" he raised his opened hand, waiting for her to fill in the last name.
"And?" Purdey asked, still not quite sure what he was driving at.
But before he could answer, the man in the chair slumped further and fell to the floor with a clatter. Gambit groaned impatiently. "Look, I'd best get sleeping beauty under lock and key down at the Department. Meet me at Steed's, will you?"
"It will take you an hour and a half to get through the paperwork," Purdey said, recent experience having borne the timing in all too clearly. She bit her lip, trying to think. "Steed will be all right – they're not going to take two swipes at him in one night."
"Hey?" Gambit's eyes widened with alarm. "Who?"
"Joanna." Purdey wondered if she looked as grim as she felt. "Joanna Harrington."
"But isn't she… I mean, Steed's known her for…" That news had punctured Gambit's self-satisfaction, even if nothing else had.
"Yes. But I got there in time." Purdey made a quick plan, decided it was good. "Look, you take care of him; I'll change and put together some coffee and sandwiches for both of us and then pick you up at the Department. That way on the way out to Steed's I can tell you all about it."
***
Epilogue
Gambit used Perov's helicopter to take the Professor to another safe location while Purdey and Steed took Perov himself back to be put in custody. He'd be turned over to the Russian Embassy, of course, but not until he'd been given a chance to reveal anything that might turn up in a series of conversations with trained interrogators. There was no rush – officially, the man was dead.
There was paperwork, however, even for a dead man, and it was wretchedly late when Steed finally got home to the stud farm. He found the helicopter sitting on his lawn and Gambit sitting in his parlor, playing patience and working his way through a jug-bottle of uncertain vintage that had been a birthday gift from a neighbor who'd gone touring in California.
"You're a braver man than I am," Steed said, hefting the half-empty container and frowning at the label.
"It could be worse," Gambit said, shrugging. "Any port in a storm – although brandy's generally recommended if the storm happens to be snow."
"This isn't port, it's rosé," Steed said, with a brief glare for the pun. "Neither blanc nor rouge nor good red herring." He poured a small amount into a glass for himself before refreshing the glass that Gambit held up to him. At least he'd be able to say he'd tried it when he was asked.
"You stop tasting it after the third glass," Gambit pointed out.
Steed, having had a sip, pulled a face. "Which is probably a blessing. Sweet, and bland." He ran his tongue across his teeth thoughtfully. "Might go better chilled, or even with ice."
"Ice in wine?" Gambit left off laying out the cards to stare at the older man. "I thought you said that was disrespectful."
"Rosé doesn't deserve respect," Steed went over to the bar and pulled a tray of ice out of the small refrigerator/freezer underneath it. He dropped a couple of cubes into his own glass and then went to add some to Gambit's. Gambit, he noted, had already drunk off half of what he'd been poured. "You should eat something with that. Or would that defeat the purpose?"
The younger agent shrugged again, and then looked up at Steed with a rueful half-smile. "Sorry, Steed. I guess I am drinking to get drunk, aren't I?" He put his glass down with a sigh and pushed it away from himself.
"It happens," Steed said, pushing it back. "And I'm not about to cast stones as long as you eat something. Getting drunk is one thing; drinking yourself sick something else entirely."
Gambit gave him an elaborate Merchant Navy salute. "Aye, aye, Cap'n," he said, in his best Cockney. "Got any pretzels?"
"I haven't had my own dinner yet," Steed said. "So you just come along to the kitchen. And bring the bottle!"
Gambit took a moment to reassemble the cards into a stack before collecting glass and jug, and Steed didn't miss the way he hesitated over the Jack of Hearts, nor the way that his grin vanished as he laid it on top of the rest.
Ah. It had been Gambit who had reminded Steed that David Miller had died a good friend, although truth to tell Steed had always known it, deep inside, even after the evidence had begun to overwhelm his instincts. But the murderous attempt on Gambit's life had been far different – more like the attempt that Jo had made, and harder to swallow. At least Steed hadn't had to kill his friendly assassin without ever knowing why he'd been attacked!
On the whole Steed thought that Gambit had dealt with that sudden betrayal rather well; but the crisis was past now, and without the urgent questions of who would be attacked next, by whom, and where, it was no surprise that Gambit's thoughts had turned to more difficult matters.
Steed led the way to the kitchen and saw Gambit ensconced at the table with his glass and the cheese grater. He set the younger man to reducing a chunk of cheddar into shreds while he began collecting the other ingredients he needed for Welsh rabbit. By the look of things Gambit would need at least one more glass before he'd be able to talk about what was on his mind, and Steed meant to catch up a little himself before then.
"Did you have any trouble finding your way in the Fens?" Steed asked, just to start a conversation. Cream, butter, porter, bread… He'd meant to make this meal for Jo. She called it his 'bachelor special', though that had never stopped her from eating it if they'd wandered down for a midnight snack. But it was fast, and hot, and filling, and the cream would go to waste if he didn't use it. Worcestershire sauce, mustard, black pepper, flour…
"No, not really," Gambit answered. "We did a lot of our flight training up there, so I knew the rivers from the air. And the Hall is hard to miss. How do they keep that big a place going?"
"By renting it out for film companies, I gather. Except for the wing that the family uses for everyday. Old Peter didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
"Not at all. Neither he nor the Duchess turned a hair." Gambit shook his head. "You'd think they had frightened Russian defectors appear out of the blue on a regular basis. The Duke whisked Vasil off in his car while I was still helping Viscount Saint George refuel the chopper, and the Duchess insisted that I eat a sandwich before I flew back. They sent you a half-dozen of port, by the way – Cockburn '62. I've put it down in the cellar to settle."
Which is when you noticed the rosé, I'd wager. Steed slid two slices of bread into the toaster and turned to the stove to start making the roux. "That's a good year, by all reports," he said mildly. "But I can't imagine the helicopter trip did it any good."
"Shaken like a bad martini," Gambit agreed, pouring himself more wine. "I doubt it will be worth broaching it for a month."
"You'll have to stop by and have a glass then," Steed said. "It will repair the damage that you're doing to your palate."
"You don't think I'm letting this stuff linger long enough to do any damage, do you?" Gambit asked, taking another drink. He eyed the glass, swirling the dregs for a moment. "It might be all right on a picnic. With a girl who doesn't know anything about wine."
"You wouldn't dare give it to one who did," Steed agreed. He drank some more of it anyway; like Gambit, downing half the glass to get the alcohol where it would do the most good in a hurry.
***
"We'll call it a debriefing," Steed said. "Close your eyes and tell me what happened."
Gambit leaned back in his chair and eyed the wine swirling in the bottom of the glass that dangled from his fingers for a moment, but then sighed and closed his eyes obediently. "I was looking for a workout," he said. "I'd been going through the files, looking for something new to give us a handle on that mix-up in Aldersby all morning and I'd planned a break before lunch – brought my squash bag and all in the car. So when ten-thirty rolled around, I went along to the gym. There's always someone around the locker rooms who needs an excuse to move. Anyway, Purdey was just finishing up her karate lesson with Spence."
And you knew that she'd be there, and were hoping she'd oblige. Steed thought, but didn't say.
"I found an envelope, stuck in the door, with Spence's name on it. Just plain brown, like an interdepartmental memo. So I took it along when I went in. Gave it to Spence. We were joking around while he opened it – laying a bet on who'd win the squash match and take Purdey to dinner, and Purdey'd just decided to play along when Spence came up with the idea that we should spar instead." Gambit tipped his head back and studied the ceiling, as if he were keeping back tears. "God help me, I joked about having a fight to the death... I can just imagine what the investigation board's going to think of that."
"I doubt they'll make much of it," Steed said. "You didn't suggest the fight, and you're not the one who shooed Purdey out of the room."
Gambit blinked. "No… no, that was Spence's idea. 'No rooting for either side', he said."
"No witnesses," Steed corrected him gently. "He'd have had to kill her too."
"He nearly did for me," Gambit admitted. "Kicked me across the room while I was still making my bow, and then got me in a headlock. But I didn't really believe he was serious until he swung that knife at me and I felt it hit. Even then I… I only tried to disable him – knock him cold. Well, that and keep him from doing any more damage to me. But when I saw the card, had a chance to see what was written on it while he was recovering from a sidekick, that's when I realized I was going to have to kill him."
He fell silent and Steed waited, knowing Gambit had more to say.
"It couldn't end any other way, could it? One of us had to be dead if the other one was going to walk out of the door alive. And he'd spent all those years not finishing anyone off, not for real. Sparring, teaching, but pulling the blows at the last moment. Whereas I've killed… what…seven men now, with nothing more than my bare hands. But he wanted to kill, and I didn't, and that made us an even match, until I made up my mind that I didn't want to die."
***
"You can't drive back to London in this condition," Steed said. "Go on up to the guest bedroom and sleep it off."
"I can't drive home in any case. My car's still sitting outside Purdey's flat." Gambit blinked. "Did we remember to tell you that someone tried to kill her?"
"Yes," Steed steered Gambit towards the staircase. "And Purdey filled in all the details when we got to London."
"Oh."
"Go on. A night's sleep will do you a world of good."
"I expect so." Gambit started up and then paused at the landing to peer back down. "Steed. Thanks."
***
Alternate versions
Ficbits and Dialogue notes
I don't even know if I should go to the funeral.
Thinking Out Loud
Purdey could have changed because she ripped her dress while running from Mrs. Miller's shotgun. It's a thought. If she'd pass by her own apartment on the way to the Stud Farm I can see her stopping to eat something and change fairly easily. Steed and Gambit have both changed attire for the rest of the ep too, (dinner dates?) so theoretically it could also be the next day, although I can't see Purdey sitting on that news for 24 hours. Judging from what we see, though, from the time that David Miller falls dead until Perov is caught is just one full day. One *very* full day. Gambit probably takes out the invader in Purdey's flat around three or four in the morning.
In My Not So Humble Opinion
Now we're cooking with gas! This episode is sheer delight. From the moment that Purdey and Steed review their "troops" and Gambit shows up as a rock star we can settle in, knowing we're in for a good ride. And when the killing starts, we know it's a roller coaster.
Favorite scene: Purdey and Gambit chasing after Steed and Perov in the car. Although it's very hard to pick!
my TNA fic links
Oct 18 06
Disclaimer: The New Avengers are copyrighted, but not by me. I think Canal+ or Mark One Productions owns the rights at the moment. Which means, of course, that this is fanfic – me playing in someone else's sandbox. Even moreso, anything in dark blue is a scene taken straight from the screen, dialogue and all, that either didn't hit the novelizations, or that didn't hit them in a way that satisfied my sense of the character arcs that I'm exploring. Links to quotes and screencaps (where they appear) are courtesy of bromfield hall.
As a rule
*** means I'm still adding onto a piece or scene and
### means I'm satisfied with that bit for now.
---
http://www.bromfieldhall.co.uk/tnaquotes13.htm
http://www.bromfieldhall.co.uk/cardspics.htm
Summary: For them as hasn't seen it lately: When Steed, Gambit, Purdey, and another agent snatch a defector back from an ignominious return to Moscow from under Ivan Perov's nose, Perov fakes his own death and activates the titular "house of cards", sleeper agents, assassins, who have been planted in England for twenty years.
</>Scenes
"He tried to kill me."
"Why?" For one awful moment she thought that it might be because of her.
Gambit didn't answer in words, just pushed the pasteboard fragment into her hands and staggered towards the door.
She turned it in her fingers, staring at the name printed neatly in black ink on the reverse, and tried to absorb the news. There was no question of whether or not Gambit was telling the truth. The blood alone told her that – although the slump of the man's shoulders was even more eloquent of the shock he'd taken. He hadn't even remembered his coat or the squash bag, Purdey realized – nor that there were civilians who'd be startled unnecessarily if he kept going.
"Gambit, wait." She caught him up and steered him into a chair. "Give me a moment to change and then we'll call Steed. He'll want to know about this."
Gambit looked at her blankly, and then nodded, letting his eyes fall closed. He was sweating, and a brief touch on his cheek showed that his skin was clammy. Purdey peeled his hand away from the wound and tugged at his shirt tail so she could take a better look. "That's going to need stitches."
"It's not deep," Gambit muttered. "I don't think it is anyway."
She made a pad of her towel and put it over the wound, tying it into place with his necktie and thinking of Steed's axiom that a neckcloth was always useful. "It's bleeding like it is," she said. "You'd best stay here while I call."
He nodded again, but didn't argue, which was eloquent in and of itself. Purdey checked the hallway, to see if Spence had had any accomplices, and then went to the payphone and quickly dialed Steed's number. It rang several times before he picked up.
"Steed."
"Steed, it's Purdey. I'm calling from the gym. We've got trouble."
"So do I. One of my neighbors has just been killed – David Miller. Shot down as he was trying to tell me something."
"I'm sorry, Steed," Purdey said. She'd met David Miller once, when Steed was working with his horses.
"What kind of trouble have you got?" Steed asked.
"Spence just tried to kill Gambit."
She heard Steed suck at his teeth. "How badly are they hurt?"
"Spence is dead. Gambit's been stabbed, but he's still on his feet. Or he was, until I made him sit down. What do you want us to do?"
"Sit tight. I'll call Kendrick – he'll have to come and collect the body in any case, and he can give Gambit a once over."
"And then what?"
"Come here. I'm going to need you. Both of you, if Gambit's in any condition to be useful."
"Right." She rang off and went back to check on Gambit. He was breathing more evenly now, but he was still pale and sweating. "Steed's sending Kendrick here, and then he wants us there. He's had trouble too. A neighbor killed."
"That doesn't sound good," Gambit grunted, and tried to get up. Purdey put a hand on his shoulder to hold him down.
"There's no rush," she said.
"I just thought I'd best make sure that Spence isn't faking it," Gambit said. "He's pulled that trick before."
"I know," Purdey said, remembering the feel of the knife against her throat not ten minutes gone by. "I'll do it."
"Purdey…" Gambit caught her arm as she turned toward the gym. "Don't take any chances."
"I don't intend to." She looked around for a likely weapon and settled on a heavy ashtray.
But Spence was dead, in the event. The angle of his neck was echoed by an impossible angle in his back, and the blue eyes were stuck half-open and beginning to go dry. Purdey checked for a pulse very, very carefully and sighed when she couldn't find one. "I would have liked an explanation," she told the corpse. "Something. Anything that would have made some sense of this."
###
Fortunately for her patience, Dr. Kendrick and the "cleanup crew" didn't have far to come. Purdey spent the interim fetching out Gambit's coat and bag from the gym and resisting the temptation to sit on the injured man when he tried to pace and ended up back in the chair. Gambit, after that abortive attempt to soothe his restlessness, spent the time holding the towel to his side, rocking back and forth and cursing so softly that Purdey had to lip-read to catch even half the words.
She was more than half-convinced that Gambit had forgotten he wasn't alone; when he startled to his feet, taking a defensive stance as Dr. Kendrick came through the door, she was certain of it.
But James Kendrick had worked for the ministry for far too long to be alarmed by the sight of an agitated agent. He waved the mortuary team past, into the gym, and turned a grim face on Gambit. "Sit!" he ordered, bringing out his medical kit. "And take that shirt off."
But Gambit stayed on his feet, watching the new arrivals suspiciously. "I'll stay if you want me to, Mike," Purdey offered, understanding why, but impatient for the doctor to begin work. Gambit met her eyes and flushed.
"Sorry," he said, splitting the apology between her and the physician. He nodded at Kendrick, making a visible effort to lower his guard. "Do you want me on the table or in the chair?"
"Easier for me if you're lying on the table," Kendrick said, eyeing the blood-sodden towel and tie. He glanced doubtfully at Purdey. "Sure you're up for the view?"
She grinned, knowing that it was up to her to break the tension in the room. "What, Gambit with his shirt off? I'm planning on enjoying myself."
Gambit snorted, but he didn't ask her to leave, and he didn't object when she took hold of his hand after he'd lain down. In fact, he didn't start to relax until Kendrick had administered a local anaesthetic, and it was only after the first few sutures had gone into the three inch long wound that his grasp eased enough for her to feel her fingers again.
"How much longer?" he asked, not looking down to see.
"Five minutes," Kendrick said. "Ten at the most. You must have dodged."
"Not far enough," Gambit said. He looked up at Purdey, but she didn't have any answers for him. If Spence had tried to kill her, she'd have died, probably from sheer disbelief.
She looked for something else to talk about. "I think your shirt took most of the damage," she said, knowing it for a weak offering. "I'll have to run over to your apartment and fetch you another."
He shook his head. "Check in my locker. I always try to keep a few spare items there." He freed his hand and dug carefully into his pocket. "It's the little silver one," he said, passing a keyring to Purdey. "Locker number six."
"Now?"
"Yes. I'm in good hands." Gambit didn't look entirely confident of that, but she could respect the fact that he was trying. And surely Spence's strange behavior didn't mean that Kendrick had gone mad as well. "And you still haven't had a chance to change."
"All right then," she said, jingling the keys. "I shan't be long."
###
There were several shirts in Gambit's locker, and an assortment of ties to choose from. Purdey grabbed the first two that would match and went to the ladies' locker room and switched into her own streetclothes after sponging off the worst of the workout. She got back just as Kendrick was finishing up. "Keep these dry, change the dressing once a day, you know the drill," the physician told Gambit, taping some lint over the stitches.
"Right," Gambit said absently. He looked a thousand miles away, but his face had color in it again, and she thought he was moving more easily when he sat up and nodded his thanks to Kendrick. The doctor studied his patient with a considering eye and then turned to Purdey.
"I don't think the blade went deep enough to hit anything vital, but if he starts looking peaky, bring him in. And try to keep him from doing anything strenuous." He picked up his bag and jerked his head toward the gym door. "Are they ready for me in there, then?"
"I think so," Purdey said. They'd done taking pictures and were measuring things as she'd come back through the gym, but they'd need Kendrick before they could actually move the body.
"I'd prefer he spent a night at the infirmary, but I left my sledgehammer in my other suit," Kendrick observed sourly and headed off with his bag in his hand.
"Here," Purdey handed Gambit the clean shirt she'd found and held onto the tie as she watched him do up the buttons. "Do you think you're up to a visit to Steed's place?"
"I'll be all right," Gambit said. She noted that he didn't say that he was all right. "You haven't lost that piece of card, have you? Steed's going to want to see it."
"I've got it right here," she said, and tucked it into his suitjacket pocket before helping him shrug the jacket on. She looped the tie around his neck and made a neat four-in-hand knot, knowing perfectly well that he could have done it himself, but needing to touch him and not just stand by watching. She straightened his collar and jacket, fussing until everything lay as smooth as if he'd had an ordinary morning. "There. Now you look ready for anything."
The corner of his mouth quirked up into something that was nearly like his usual smile. "Even a dinner date? I did win."
"So you did," she said, relieved that he felt himself again enough to flirt, though her stomach was in such horrendous knots that food was the last thing she wanted. "Some place unusual, then? That neither of us has ever been?" Or are likely to ever go again.
"Sounds good." Gambit's eyes were nearly as bleak as her own, in spite of the smile, and she knew he was no more willing to link memories of what had just happened to their own corner of London than she was. "But we'd best get to Steed's first. Do you mind driving?"
"Not in the least."
###
It was late. She was tired. Purdey got in the door of her apartment and started losing layers, thinking only of which book she might read in the bath before she went to bed. She'd need something soothing to get her mind off of what had happened at Steed's. That made twice now that someone had tried to…
Her mind had barely registered the shape of the man sitting in the chair across the room before she found herself moving to get her silhouette out of the light from the bedroom. She reached the shadows and nearly had heart-failure when someone grabbed her from behind, but a glance showed her that it was Gambit. Instinct and adrenalin still being in charge of her body, she grabbed him by the lapel and hauled him along with her as she dived for the cover of the nearest chair.
</>She ended up flat on the carpet, with Gambit braced over and alongside her protectively. "There's a man!" she hissed.
"I know," Gambit whispered back.
"With a gun!" she went on.
"Yes." Gambit didn't sound nearly alarmed enough.
"He's in that chair," Purdey insisted.
"Unconscious," Gambit said, and Purdey stiffened as her racing heart stumbled to a slower pace.
"What?" she asked, looking again at the intruder to see if Gambit were right.
"I got here just as he was breaking in, and clobbered him for you." Gambit rested his chin against her bare back. "He'll be out cold for a couple of hours I'd say."
Purdey rolled out from underneath Gambit and tried to make out his expression in the dim light. "Well, why didn't you tell me before? Why did you wait until I'd got…" she indicated her state of dishabille.
Gambit grinned, and gave her an appreciative once-over. "Silly question?" he asked, looking well-pleased.
"Silly question." Purdey snorted, and got to her feet, using him for a carpet as she stomped off to find her robe.
"Ugh!" Gambit's grunt reminded her that he'd been cut not that long ago, but as he popped upright without a fuss, she decided that she'd missed the stitches and should have aimed better.
"Gambit, you know one of these days…" The nerve of the man! What if she'd kept on stripping off? When would he have spoken up?
"You keep saying that," Gambit said.
She looked up to find him peering through the bead curtain and snapped, "Would you please get out of my bedroom?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." He nearly looked abashed as he let the beads fall back, but she wasn't about to let him get off that easily.
"It seems the golden age of chivalry is quite dead," she said, tying the belt of her robe like it was a karate ghi and she was about to head into combat.
"Not quite," Gambit replied, and something in his tone caught her attention and drew her towards him. "I mean, no more white chargers or dragons. But I did save your life." She felt her glare slipping as she pushed through the beads and studied his face. He was serious. She waited for him to provide proof, and as if he could read her mind he pulled a piece of pasteboard from behind her ear, like an illusionist producing a coin. Half a card. The queen of hearts. And her name written on the back. She looked again at Gambit, but he was looking at the intruder in the corner.
"He was carrying it," he said thoughtfully. Then he turned to her again, the light of an idea in his eyes as he counted on his fingers. "That completes the circle. You, me, Steed, Roland…" he raised his opened hand, waiting for her to fill in the last name.
"And?" Purdey asked, still not quite sure what he was driving at.
But before he could answer, the man in the chair slumped further and fell to the floor with a clatter. Gambit groaned impatiently. "Look, I'd best get sleeping beauty under lock and key down at the Department. Meet me at Steed's, will you?"
"It will take you an hour and a half to get through the paperwork," Purdey said, recent experience having borne the timing in all too clearly. She bit her lip, trying to think. "Steed will be all right – they're not going to take two swipes at him in one night."
"Hey?" Gambit's eyes widened with alarm. "Who?"
"Joanna." Purdey wondered if she looked as grim as she felt. "Joanna Harrington."
"But isn't she… I mean, Steed's known her for…" That news had punctured Gambit's self-satisfaction, even if nothing else had.
"Yes. But I got there in time." Purdey made a quick plan, decided it was good. "Look, you take care of him; I'll change and put together some coffee and sandwiches for both of us and then pick you up at the Department. That way on the way out to Steed's I can tell you all about it."
***
Epilogue
Gambit used Perov's helicopter to take the Professor to another safe location while Purdey and Steed took Perov himself back to be put in custody. He'd be turned over to the Russian Embassy, of course, but not until he'd been given a chance to reveal anything that might turn up in a series of conversations with trained interrogators. There was no rush – officially, the man was dead.
There was paperwork, however, even for a dead man, and it was wretchedly late when Steed finally got home to the stud farm. He found the helicopter sitting on his lawn and Gambit sitting in his parlor, playing patience and working his way through a jug-bottle of uncertain vintage that had been a birthday gift from a neighbor who'd gone touring in California.
"You're a braver man than I am," Steed said, hefting the half-empty container and frowning at the label.
"It could be worse," Gambit said, shrugging. "Any port in a storm – although brandy's generally recommended if the storm happens to be snow."
"This isn't port, it's rosé," Steed said, with a brief glare for the pun. "Neither blanc nor rouge nor good red herring." He poured a small amount into a glass for himself before refreshing the glass that Gambit held up to him. At least he'd be able to say he'd tried it when he was asked.
"You stop tasting it after the third glass," Gambit pointed out.
Steed, having had a sip, pulled a face. "Which is probably a blessing. Sweet, and bland." He ran his tongue across his teeth thoughtfully. "Might go better chilled, or even with ice."
"Ice in wine?" Gambit left off laying out the cards to stare at the older man. "I thought you said that was disrespectful."
"Rosé doesn't deserve respect," Steed went over to the bar and pulled a tray of ice out of the small refrigerator/freezer underneath it. He dropped a couple of cubes into his own glass and then went to add some to Gambit's. Gambit, he noted, had already drunk off half of what he'd been poured. "You should eat something with that. Or would that defeat the purpose?"
The younger agent shrugged again, and then looked up at Steed with a rueful half-smile. "Sorry, Steed. I guess I am drinking to get drunk, aren't I?" He put his glass down with a sigh and pushed it away from himself.
"It happens," Steed said, pushing it back. "And I'm not about to cast stones as long as you eat something. Getting drunk is one thing; drinking yourself sick something else entirely."
Gambit gave him an elaborate Merchant Navy salute. "Aye, aye, Cap'n," he said, in his best Cockney. "Got any pretzels?"
"I haven't had my own dinner yet," Steed said. "So you just come along to the kitchen. And bring the bottle!"
Gambit took a moment to reassemble the cards into a stack before collecting glass and jug, and Steed didn't miss the way he hesitated over the Jack of Hearts, nor the way that his grin vanished as he laid it on top of the rest.
Ah. It had been Gambit who had reminded Steed that David Miller had died a good friend, although truth to tell Steed had always known it, deep inside, even after the evidence had begun to overwhelm his instincts. But the murderous attempt on Gambit's life had been far different – more like the attempt that Jo had made, and harder to swallow. At least Steed hadn't had to kill his friendly assassin without ever knowing why he'd been attacked!
On the whole Steed thought that Gambit had dealt with that sudden betrayal rather well; but the crisis was past now, and without the urgent questions of who would be attacked next, by whom, and where, it was no surprise that Gambit's thoughts had turned to more difficult matters.
Steed led the way to the kitchen and saw Gambit ensconced at the table with his glass and the cheese grater. He set the younger man to reducing a chunk of cheddar into shreds while he began collecting the other ingredients he needed for Welsh rabbit. By the look of things Gambit would need at least one more glass before he'd be able to talk about what was on his mind, and Steed meant to catch up a little himself before then.
"Did you have any trouble finding your way in the Fens?" Steed asked, just to start a conversation. Cream, butter, porter, bread… He'd meant to make this meal for Jo. She called it his 'bachelor special', though that had never stopped her from eating it if they'd wandered down for a midnight snack. But it was fast, and hot, and filling, and the cream would go to waste if he didn't use it. Worcestershire sauce, mustard, black pepper, flour…
"No, not really," Gambit answered. "We did a lot of our flight training up there, so I knew the rivers from the air. And the Hall is hard to miss. How do they keep that big a place going?"
"By renting it out for film companies, I gather. Except for the wing that the family uses for everyday. Old Peter didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
"Not at all. Neither he nor the Duchess turned a hair." Gambit shook his head. "You'd think they had frightened Russian defectors appear out of the blue on a regular basis. The Duke whisked Vasil off in his car while I was still helping Viscount Saint George refuel the chopper, and the Duchess insisted that I eat a sandwich before I flew back. They sent you a half-dozen of port, by the way – Cockburn '62. I've put it down in the cellar to settle."
Which is when you noticed the rosé, I'd wager. Steed slid two slices of bread into the toaster and turned to the stove to start making the roux. "That's a good year, by all reports," he said mildly. "But I can't imagine the helicopter trip did it any good."
"Shaken like a bad martini," Gambit agreed, pouring himself more wine. "I doubt it will be worth broaching it for a month."
"You'll have to stop by and have a glass then," Steed said. "It will repair the damage that you're doing to your palate."
"You don't think I'm letting this stuff linger long enough to do any damage, do you?" Gambit asked, taking another drink. He eyed the glass, swirling the dregs for a moment. "It might be all right on a picnic. With a girl who doesn't know anything about wine."
"You wouldn't dare give it to one who did," Steed agreed. He drank some more of it anyway; like Gambit, downing half the glass to get the alcohol where it would do the most good in a hurry.
***
"We'll call it a debriefing," Steed said. "Close your eyes and tell me what happened."
Gambit leaned back in his chair and eyed the wine swirling in the bottom of the glass that dangled from his fingers for a moment, but then sighed and closed his eyes obediently. "I was looking for a workout," he said. "I'd been going through the files, looking for something new to give us a handle on that mix-up in Aldersby all morning and I'd planned a break before lunch – brought my squash bag and all in the car. So when ten-thirty rolled around, I went along to the gym. There's always someone around the locker rooms who needs an excuse to move. Anyway, Purdey was just finishing up her karate lesson with Spence."
And you knew that she'd be there, and were hoping she'd oblige. Steed thought, but didn't say.
"I found an envelope, stuck in the door, with Spence's name on it. Just plain brown, like an interdepartmental memo. So I took it along when I went in. Gave it to Spence. We were joking around while he opened it – laying a bet on who'd win the squash match and take Purdey to dinner, and Purdey'd just decided to play along when Spence came up with the idea that we should spar instead." Gambit tipped his head back and studied the ceiling, as if he were keeping back tears. "God help me, I joked about having a fight to the death... I can just imagine what the investigation board's going to think of that."
"I doubt they'll make much of it," Steed said. "You didn't suggest the fight, and you're not the one who shooed Purdey out of the room."
Gambit blinked. "No… no, that was Spence's idea. 'No rooting for either side', he said."
"No witnesses," Steed corrected him gently. "He'd have had to kill her too."
"He nearly did for me," Gambit admitted. "Kicked me across the room while I was still making my bow, and then got me in a headlock. But I didn't really believe he was serious until he swung that knife at me and I felt it hit. Even then I… I only tried to disable him – knock him cold. Well, that and keep him from doing any more damage to me. But when I saw the card, had a chance to see what was written on it while he was recovering from a sidekick, that's when I realized I was going to have to kill him."
He fell silent and Steed waited, knowing Gambit had more to say.
"It couldn't end any other way, could it? One of us had to be dead if the other one was going to walk out of the door alive. And he'd spent all those years not finishing anyone off, not for real. Sparring, teaching, but pulling the blows at the last moment. Whereas I've killed… what…seven men now, with nothing more than my bare hands. But he wanted to kill, and I didn't, and that made us an even match, until I made up my mind that I didn't want to die."
***
"You can't drive back to London in this condition," Steed said. "Go on up to the guest bedroom and sleep it off."
"I can't drive home in any case. My car's still sitting outside Purdey's flat." Gambit blinked. "Did we remember to tell you that someone tried to kill her?"
"Yes," Steed steered Gambit towards the staircase. "And Purdey filled in all the details when we got to London."
"Oh."
"Go on. A night's sleep will do you a world of good."
"I expect so." Gambit started up and then paused at the landing to peer back down. "Steed. Thanks."
***
Alternate versions
Ficbits and Dialogue notes
I don't even know if I should go to the funeral.
Thinking Out Loud
Purdey could have changed because she ripped her dress while running from Mrs. Miller's shotgun. It's a thought. If she'd pass by her own apartment on the way to the Stud Farm I can see her stopping to eat something and change fairly easily. Steed and Gambit have both changed attire for the rest of the ep too, (dinner dates?) so theoretically it could also be the next day, although I can't see Purdey sitting on that news for 24 hours. Judging from what we see, though, from the time that David Miller falls dead until Perov is caught is just one full day. One *very* full day. Gambit probably takes out the invader in Purdey's flat around three or four in the morning.
In My Not So Humble Opinion
Now we're cooking with gas! This episode is sheer delight. From the moment that Purdey and Steed review their "troops" and Gambit shows up as a rock star we can settle in, knowing we're in for a good ride. And when the killing starts, we know it's a roller coaster.
Favorite scene: Purdey and Gambit chasing after Steed and Perov in the car. Although it's very hard to pick!
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