New Avengers Snippets!
Aug. 7th, 2006 12:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanK is for Kill
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.
As a rule *** means I'm still adding onto a piece or scene and ### means I'm satisfied with that bit for now.
***
Summary: For them as hasn't seen it lately: K is for Kill was a two part episode set in France, with hibernating Russian soldiers suddenly coming awake and attacking thirty year old targets. While the main group is caught or killed in the first episode, two assassins are left loose for the second, and are being helped by a renegade Russian who has waited years to make the plot come to fruition.
Both Steed and Gambit get shot twice in this one. Steed takes a bullet in the cigarette case early on, and when Gambit and Purdey confront the man who shot Steed Gambit takes damage to his hand (by knocking a bullet away … yes, it's silly, but it's fun.) Later in the episode, as they're actually discovering the whereabouts of the assassin who is trying to kill the French President, Gambit gets shot in the other hand and Steed takes another bullet, somewhere in the left upper torso or arm.
The first snip is an expanded version of Steed and Purdey finding Steed; the second is from the point of view of their French liaison a few moments later. The last bit is at a dinner that they are promised in the epilogue to the episode, but that we weren't shown. I got thoughtful, because while Gambit's original right-hand bandage didn't quite get in the way of his using the hand, the bandages he's wearing at the end are practically mummy wrappings!
Scenes
</>
Purdey stared at Steed's unconscious (oh, please, only unconscious) form on the wooden walkway and felt Gambit arriving behind her, breathing hard. For a moment, all she could hear was the younger man's harsh breathing and the pounding of her own heart in her ears.
Then Gambit reached around, blood dripping from his hand as he pressed Steed's outstretched wrist between a thumb and forefinger. "Not dead. Not yet. Get Martin and I'll look for the sniper."
Relief made her flippant. "And what are you going to do if you find him, kick him to death?" She tugged her little Walther out from under her voluminous shirt and showed it to Gambit. "You fetch the cavalry, I'll do the hunting."
He nodded agreement, an almost-smile flickering across his features to acknowledge the banter. "Be careful, all right? We're already two down."
"I'm always careful," she assured him, eyeing the catwalk beyond Steed. She heard Gambit clattering back down the stairs and took a deep breath. Getting further into the tower was going to be very tricky, given that she couldn't keep an eye on the footing and watch for an attacker at the same time. But there was nothing for it. And unlike Gambit, at least she could use her hands.
***
</>
Colonel Martin was just beginning to breathe more easily when Gambit came around the corner of the church. The Englishman had raised his right hand – the bandaged one – to beckon, and even at this distance Martin could see fresh blood against the stark white. He wondered why Gambit wasn't using his uninjured hand, and then realized that Gambit's left hand was tucked protectively against his chest – and there was red on it as well.
"Pardon, Minister," Martin made a sketchy salute to his superior and took off for Gambit at a run, waving to the nearest pair of men to join him. He reached Gambit as the Englishman was just coming up to one of the headstones and he hesitated not for a moment about steering the injured man into sitting on it. "What happened?"
"Steed's hurt, up in the bell tower. And Purdey's looking for the K agent who's probably still in there. We ran into his contact up on the hill. That's why the bell was late. It was on time at eleven."
"Search the church," Martin ordered the men who had just arrived on his heels. "But be careful of your target before you fire. There are at least two allies in there; an Englishman and a girl."
Gambit listened to the French with incomprehension. "Steed's hurt," he repeated. "Badly hurt by the look of it."
"I have a medical team standing by in the village," Martin told him. "Just in case." He pulled his whistle out of his pocket and blew it to summon his communications man, wishing that the formal uniform allowed him space enough to carry a walkie-talkie. He'd have to redistribute his men, and quickly. Bonnet had some medical background… send him up the bell tower with his partner while they waited for the doctor to arrive. And Quillion should lead the searchers up the hill.
He gave his orders quickly, and caught Gambit's shoulder before the man could try to join the party that was headed back into the church. "The bell tower stairs are narrow. You would only be in the way of the men who have gone in to fetch out Steed."
Gambit bit his lip, but he didn't argue. His left hand was bleeding quite a bit now, and he cradled it uncomfortably in the right, which Martin could see was not much better off. He wondered what had happened, but there was not time to ask. Not while he still had to get the Minister and the President safely out of the danger zone. "Stay here," he ordered Gambit, hoping he'd be obeyed, and went to deal with the VIPs.
###
By the time Colonel Martin got the presidential party dispatched, the doctor and her assistants had arrived and Gambit was beginning to wish he'd sat down on something with a back to lean against. His hands – both of them – hurt like mad, and he was frantic with wanting to understand what everyone was shouting.
A flash of red caught his eye and he looked up to see Purdey waving and smiling at one of the high windows. She cranked open a ventilation panel and called down, "It's all right! The K agent fell and broke his neck."
"What about Steed?" Gambit called back.
"We're bringing him down now, and he's complaining about the stairs!" There was a triumphant note in her voice that Gambit couldn't help but appreciate. If Steed was complaining, he was alive.
"Wonderful!" he said, and closed his eyes, feeling the adrenalin rush that had sustained him fading into uselessness. There was only so long you could go on adrenalin – so long you could manage before admitting that being shot hurt like hell. Landing on the earlier wound hadn't done it any favors. He had a nasty feeling that the bones in the back of his right hand had shifted position, and not in a good way. He tried curling his fingers and gave up the experiment hastily. He could, but it wasn't worth it.
His left hand hurt even worse, but he wasn't sure that the bullet had actually hit him and not the gun. It had knocked it out of his hand anyway, and that made two perfectly good revolvers rendered useless in the past three days. His palm felt like his hand had been split down the middle – like a Vulcan salute gone far too deep. He tried to curl the fingers of that hand and pain shot up his arm like a jolt of poteen, bursting in bright colors in his head. It was all he could do not to faint, long minutes before he realized that someone was trying to uncurl him from around the injured hands.
"Come on, Gambit," Purdey was saying near his ear. "Let the pretty doctor see what you've done to yourself."
"How's Steed?" he asked, forcing himself to straighten.
"A broken rib, and a bullet lodged in his upper arm," Dr. ____ answered, as she gently took hold of his left wrist. "He was hit in the cigarette case, and the bullet ricocheted. But he will be all right, no question."
***
Epilogue
</>
And then there was Paris. City of lights, yes, but city of bullets as well. Purdey had managed to come out of the strange affair of the hibernating Russian soldiers without a scratch, but Steed and Gambit hadn't fared nearly so well. She eyed her two compatriots across the table. Steed was smiling pleasantly, listening to Colonel Martin's enthusiastic discourse on local wines. Gambit was listening too, but frowning as he twiddled his fork with his fingertips. Most of his food was still on his plate, and given that Gambit would usually dine happily on anything that didn't fight back, Purdey realized that his dilatory treatment of an excellent dinner probably had more to do with the bandages on his hands than a dislike of French cuisine, however amphibious. On impulse, she reached over and appropriated the fork. "You'll starve if you keep on like that," she said, and speared a tidbit from the plate. "Here…"
Gambit blushed, but accepted the bite of frog. After a few chews and a swallow he said, "Thanks," and then took the second bite she had readied for him.
"Tastes like chicken?" Purdey asked.
"More like rabbit," Gambit replied. He carefully lifted his glass for a sip of wine and set it down again.
"Here, nudge over," Purdey said. "I can't winkle out the snails from here." She shifted her chair around the table so that it was right next to Gambit's and attacked the snails, smiling to herself when he had to put his arm around her shoulder to accommodate the move. Knowing Gambit he'd not invited that pretty French doctor along to dinner because he would have felt embarrassed about being helpless. The pretty French doctor was out of luck. Purdey was of the opinion that Gambit was seldom more attractive than when he needed help. She'd never tell him that, though. Heaven only knew what he'd end up breaking if he thought it would get him a date.
He certainly needed help tonight. Purdey felt the tension leaving the body next to hers as she managed to get more food and wine into her friend and wondered if he'd skipped the pain medication he'd been given when his hands were tended. By dessert he was almost his usual self, joining in the conversation with interest and an occasional pun between the moments when Purdey steered the glass to his lips or another spoonful of crème brulee. She didn't neglect her own dinner, either, so it was late when Gambit made an apologetic sound and extricated himself from around her.
"Excuse me, please," he said, glancing around for the direction to the gents'.
"And me," Steed said immediately, rising to join him. They went off together, both appearing a little unsteady to anyone who knew them well. Purdey wondered if Gambit was going to require Steed's assistance in the loo, but she knew she'd never have the nerve to ask either of them about it.
She met Colonel Martin's thoughtful gaze and winked. "I have the feeling I'm going to end up tucking both of them into their beds," she said. "And not getting any benefit from it, either. I don't suppose you're going to be able to stay up late tonight?"
He blushed rather prettily. "Alas, I have a debriefing in the morning. Otherwise I should be most glad to see the dawn with you."
Purdey twinkled at the compliment. "That is a shame."
The Frenchman smiled back. "I suppose I could linger long enough for a nightcap. You might need some assistance, after all, in "tucking in" the others."
"What a marvelous idea," Purdey said, and meant it. Gambit was far more likely to let himself be persuaded to take his pain medications before he went to sleep if she weren't in the room. Besides, Colonel Martin was charming. And French. And she didn't have to keep him up all night.
***
Alternate versions
Ficbits and Dialogue notes
Thinking Out Loud
my TNA fic links
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.
As a rule *** means I'm still adding onto a piece or scene and ### means I'm satisfied with that bit for now.
***
Summary: For them as hasn't seen it lately: K is for Kill was a two part episode set in France, with hibernating Russian soldiers suddenly coming awake and attacking thirty year old targets. While the main group is caught or killed in the first episode, two assassins are left loose for the second, and are being helped by a renegade Russian who has waited years to make the plot come to fruition.
Both Steed and Gambit get shot twice in this one. Steed takes a bullet in the cigarette case early on, and when Gambit and Purdey confront the man who shot Steed Gambit takes damage to his hand (by knocking a bullet away … yes, it's silly, but it's fun.) Later in the episode, as they're actually discovering the whereabouts of the assassin who is trying to kill the French President, Gambit gets shot in the other hand and Steed takes another bullet, somewhere in the left upper torso or arm.
The first snip is an expanded version of Steed and Purdey finding Steed; the second is from the point of view of their French liaison a few moments later. The last bit is at a dinner that they are promised in the epilogue to the episode, but that we weren't shown. I got thoughtful, because while Gambit's original right-hand bandage didn't quite get in the way of his using the hand, the bandages he's wearing at the end are practically mummy wrappings!
Scenes
</>Purdey stared at Steed's unconscious (oh, please, only unconscious) form on the wooden walkway and felt Gambit arriving behind her, breathing hard. For a moment, all she could hear was the younger man's harsh breathing and the pounding of her own heart in her ears.
Then Gambit reached around, blood dripping from his hand as he pressed Steed's outstretched wrist between a thumb and forefinger. "Not dead. Not yet. Get Martin and I'll look for the sniper."
Relief made her flippant. "And what are you going to do if you find him, kick him to death?" She tugged her little Walther out from under her voluminous shirt and showed it to Gambit. "You fetch the cavalry, I'll do the hunting."
He nodded agreement, an almost-smile flickering across his features to acknowledge the banter. "Be careful, all right? We're already two down."
"I'm always careful," she assured him, eyeing the catwalk beyond Steed. She heard Gambit clattering back down the stairs and took a deep breath. Getting further into the tower was going to be very tricky, given that she couldn't keep an eye on the footing and watch for an attacker at the same time. But there was nothing for it. And unlike Gambit, at least she could use her hands.
***
</>Colonel Martin was just beginning to breathe more easily when Gambit came around the corner of the church. The Englishman had raised his right hand – the bandaged one – to beckon, and even at this distance Martin could see fresh blood against the stark white. He wondered why Gambit wasn't using his uninjured hand, and then realized that Gambit's left hand was tucked protectively against his chest – and there was red on it as well.
"Pardon, Minister," Martin made a sketchy salute to his superior and took off for Gambit at a run, waving to the nearest pair of men to join him. He reached Gambit as the Englishman was just coming up to one of the headstones and he hesitated not for a moment about steering the injured man into sitting on it. "What happened?"
"Steed's hurt, up in the bell tower. And Purdey's looking for the K agent who's probably still in there. We ran into his contact up on the hill. That's why the bell was late. It was on time at eleven."
"Search the church," Martin ordered the men who had just arrived on his heels. "But be careful of your target before you fire. There are at least two allies in there; an Englishman and a girl."
Gambit listened to the French with incomprehension. "Steed's hurt," he repeated. "Badly hurt by the look of it."
"I have a medical team standing by in the village," Martin told him. "Just in case." He pulled his whistle out of his pocket and blew it to summon his communications man, wishing that the formal uniform allowed him space enough to carry a walkie-talkie. He'd have to redistribute his men, and quickly. Bonnet had some medical background… send him up the bell tower with his partner while they waited for the doctor to arrive. And Quillion should lead the searchers up the hill.
He gave his orders quickly, and caught Gambit's shoulder before the man could try to join the party that was headed back into the church. "The bell tower stairs are narrow. You would only be in the way of the men who have gone in to fetch out Steed."
Gambit bit his lip, but he didn't argue. His left hand was bleeding quite a bit now, and he cradled it uncomfortably in the right, which Martin could see was not much better off. He wondered what had happened, but there was not time to ask. Not while he still had to get the Minister and the President safely out of the danger zone. "Stay here," he ordered Gambit, hoping he'd be obeyed, and went to deal with the VIPs.
###
By the time Colonel Martin got the presidential party dispatched, the doctor and her assistants had arrived and Gambit was beginning to wish he'd sat down on something with a back to lean against. His hands – both of them – hurt like mad, and he was frantic with wanting to understand what everyone was shouting.
A flash of red caught his eye and he looked up to see Purdey waving and smiling at one of the high windows. She cranked open a ventilation panel and called down, "It's all right! The K agent fell and broke his neck."
"What about Steed?" Gambit called back.
"We're bringing him down now, and he's complaining about the stairs!" There was a triumphant note in her voice that Gambit couldn't help but appreciate. If Steed was complaining, he was alive.
"Wonderful!" he said, and closed his eyes, feeling the adrenalin rush that had sustained him fading into uselessness. There was only so long you could go on adrenalin – so long you could manage before admitting that being shot hurt like hell. Landing on the earlier wound hadn't done it any favors. He had a nasty feeling that the bones in the back of his right hand had shifted position, and not in a good way. He tried curling his fingers and gave up the experiment hastily. He could, but it wasn't worth it.
His left hand hurt even worse, but he wasn't sure that the bullet had actually hit him and not the gun. It had knocked it out of his hand anyway, and that made two perfectly good revolvers rendered useless in the past three days. His palm felt like his hand had been split down the middle – like a Vulcan salute gone far too deep. He tried to curl the fingers of that hand and pain shot up his arm like a jolt of poteen, bursting in bright colors in his head. It was all he could do not to faint, long minutes before he realized that someone was trying to uncurl him from around the injured hands.
"Come on, Gambit," Purdey was saying near his ear. "Let the pretty doctor see what you've done to yourself."
"How's Steed?" he asked, forcing himself to straighten.
"A broken rib, and a bullet lodged in his upper arm," Dr. ____ answered, as she gently took hold of his left wrist. "He was hit in the cigarette case, and the bullet ricocheted. But he will be all right, no question."
***
Epilogue
</>And then there was Paris. City of lights, yes, but city of bullets as well. Purdey had managed to come out of the strange affair of the hibernating Russian soldiers without a scratch, but Steed and Gambit hadn't fared nearly so well. She eyed her two compatriots across the table. Steed was smiling pleasantly, listening to Colonel Martin's enthusiastic discourse on local wines. Gambit was listening too, but frowning as he twiddled his fork with his fingertips. Most of his food was still on his plate, and given that Gambit would usually dine happily on anything that didn't fight back, Purdey realized that his dilatory treatment of an excellent dinner probably had more to do with the bandages on his hands than a dislike of French cuisine, however amphibious. On impulse, she reached over and appropriated the fork. "You'll starve if you keep on like that," she said, and speared a tidbit from the plate. "Here…"
Gambit blushed, but accepted the bite of frog. After a few chews and a swallow he said, "Thanks," and then took the second bite she had readied for him.
"Tastes like chicken?" Purdey asked.
"More like rabbit," Gambit replied. He carefully lifted his glass for a sip of wine and set it down again.
"Here, nudge over," Purdey said. "I can't winkle out the snails from here." She shifted her chair around the table so that it was right next to Gambit's and attacked the snails, smiling to herself when he had to put his arm around her shoulder to accommodate the move. Knowing Gambit he'd not invited that pretty French doctor along to dinner because he would have felt embarrassed about being helpless. The pretty French doctor was out of luck. Purdey was of the opinion that Gambit was seldom more attractive than when he needed help. She'd never tell him that, though. Heaven only knew what he'd end up breaking if he thought it would get him a date.
He certainly needed help tonight. Purdey felt the tension leaving the body next to hers as she managed to get more food and wine into her friend and wondered if he'd skipped the pain medication he'd been given when his hands were tended. By dessert he was almost his usual self, joining in the conversation with interest and an occasional pun between the moments when Purdey steered the glass to his lips or another spoonful of crème brulee. She didn't neglect her own dinner, either, so it was late when Gambit made an apologetic sound and extricated himself from around her.
"Excuse me, please," he said, glancing around for the direction to the gents'.
"And me," Steed said immediately, rising to join him. They went off together, both appearing a little unsteady to anyone who knew them well. Purdey wondered if Gambit was going to require Steed's assistance in the loo, but she knew she'd never have the nerve to ask either of them about it.
She met Colonel Martin's thoughtful gaze and winked. "I have the feeling I'm going to end up tucking both of them into their beds," she said. "And not getting any benefit from it, either. I don't suppose you're going to be able to stay up late tonight?"
He blushed rather prettily. "Alas, I have a debriefing in the morning. Otherwise I should be most glad to see the dawn with you."
Purdey twinkled at the compliment. "That is a shame."
The Frenchman smiled back. "I suppose I could linger long enough for a nightcap. You might need some assistance, after all, in "tucking in" the others."
"What a marvelous idea," Purdey said, and meant it. Gambit was far more likely to let himself be persuaded to take his pain medications before he went to sleep if she weren't in the room. Besides, Colonel Martin was charming. And French. And she didn't have to keep him up all night.
***
Alternate versions
Ficbits and Dialogue notes
Thinking Out Loud
my TNA fic links
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-10-17 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2026-01-22 06:59 am (UTC)Sorry I didn’t answer before. I hadn’t noticed your comment, and my life was hectic.
Have you read the New Avengers stories on AO3?