Dirtier part 15
Dec. 10th, 2008 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanFlorrie led Purdey along a circuitous route, stopping at each corner to survey the street ahead before she let Purdey look round too. Purdey was amused by this, and impressed, too, when the girl explained that she was looking for army boots on strangers. "Didn't notice any before," she admitted. "But I wasn't looking for them, was I? I was watching you."
"Were you?" Purdey hadn't noticed. There had been a lot of children chasing each other and shouting in the streets near the schoolyard, but she'd been looking for someone taller.
"Couldn't keep up, though. You can't half run," that assessment was made in tones of such admiration Purdey decided it must be a compliment. "But I got close enough to hear you asking after Gumby once or twice. Didn't sound like you were chasing him to me. Sounded like you were worried." Florrie wrinkled her nose at Purdey. "He's not bad is he? Gumby, I mean? You're not the police after him? Because he said he didn't think he was and Sam believes him, but Sam believes just about anything once he starts pretending."
"No," Purdey said, "He's not bad. But this isn't a game of pretend."
"Guess not," Florrie said, and went on. When Purdey was satisfied that they didn't have anyone following them, the girl turned down a narrow lane and they ducked through a gap in an iron railing and over two garden walls before coming to a long narrow walled garden behind a three story apartment block. By the assorted toys and the carefully marked out vegetable plots, Purdey guessed that every family in the building made use of the space. But Florrie didn't even try the door. Instead she led the way to a Tree-of-Heaven that just barely supported Purdey's weight on the scramble up to a first-floor window. That gave into a bedroom where a very small boy was sitting in a crib, disembowelling a stuffed animal. He favored them with a mildly interested gaze, and then went back to pulling fluff out and throwing it onto the floor with a studious air. He wasn't Peter, though, because Florrie kept going, signalling for quiet as they passed through the flat, and avoiding the notice of the woman in the kitchen who was singing along to the radio and the clatter of pots and pans.
Safely in the hallway, with the door to the flat closed behind them, Florrie wiped her forehead. "I'd've had you meet my mum, but she'd want explanations," she said. "Peter's upstairs."
"And Peter's mum won't want explanations?" Purdey asked, following her up the steps.
"She's dead. And his dad works, so he leaves a key." Florrie reached the door she wanted and turned up the mat, collecting the key she'd mentioned. "See?" She unlocked the door and replaced the key and then ushered Purdey inside. "Peter! It's me. Where are you?"
"My room!" came the answer. A chubby eleven-year-old with glasses popped into evidence and then blinked and stepped back. "Who's that?"
"Friend of Gumby's," Florrie answered. But the question had been enough to raise the alarm and by the time Purdey reached the bedroom door Gambit was on his feet, holding one of his crutches up as if to swing. He looked even more frightened than he had before, and she could tell he was tiring.
"A friend?" he asked, tensely.
"A friend," Purdey said, being careful not to look away from his eyes. She didn't want to fight him, but she wasn't sure the reverse was true. "Gambit, Steed didn't send anyone after you, and neither did I."
"Who's that then?" he said, gesturing to the window with a jerk of his head. Purdey saw that a telescope had been set up to view the road below.
"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to look yet. May I?"
He thought about it for a moment and then nodded, putting the crutch down and hitching himself out of the way. Purdey bent to the telescope and hissed when the man's face swam into view. She'd given him the fading bruise on his chin herself, just after she'd kicked the knife out of his hand outside the armory where she'd been held prisoner. "It is one of Miller's men," she said, mostly to herself.
"What?" She looked up at Gambit, wondering if he'd been that pale a moment earlier. "What did you say?"
She glanced over to the watching children. "I can't explain it right now," she said. "But we've got to get you out of here before he comes in after you."
"Bloody hell," Gambit sank onto the bed, upsetting the bowl of cornflakes that had been left on the pillow, and then catching back language even worse as the milk soaked his trousers. "F... " He locked his jaw, visibly pulling his temper in until he could talk without swearing. "What if he goes after the kids? Peter, we've got to get the others clear of him, off the street. Now."
"What about the plan? If he thinks you've gone to the train..."
"No. I've got to lead him off." Gambit looked to Purdey. "That's right isn't it? I've got to lead him off, or he'll hurt one of the kids, and it will be all my fault."
"Yes it will," Purdey agreed, sharp with exasperation. "Why couldn't you have just come back to the car?"
"I meant to. And then I saw him following -- and there was something about him put the wind right up. Wasn't till I got up here that Sam and I worked out that he might have been sent by Steed." Gambit pounded a fist against his thigh, as if it would help him to think, and then pushed himself off the bed and hopped onefooted down to the headboard, so that he could look out the window without being so close to it as to be visible from the outside. "If I could just get to the river..."
"The river?" she asked.
"Yeah." His hand tightened on the headboard until the knuckles went white. "Something I need to ... I need to do. Or to find out if I've already done." He was trembling, his emotional balance as precarious as his physical balance. "I mean, it's been fifteen years."
As frustrated as she was by this whole complicated mess, it was clear that he was even more frustrated, and frightened into the bargain. She just couldn't stay angry with him, not when he was in this state. "At least you believe me about the year now," Purdey said, her voice softening as she went to steady him.
"Yeah. Kids don't lie about things like that." When he wasn't leaning on the crutches he was the right height again and she realized how tired she'd got of being the one looking down now that she was the one looking up. The last time she'd seen him at this angle was before Steed brought down the helicopter to fetch them away, though then his face had been a mask of gore. She rested her hand against his chest, both to support him and for the sake of feeling his heart beating underneath the cloth, wondering if he'd remember himself if she tugged on his tie, the way she had when he'd infuriated her after that horrible confusion with the doubles. The corner of his mouth quirked up suddenly, and she saw a transitory glint of himself flicker through his eyes. "But it still doesn't seem right. I mean, how's a bloke meant to have forgotten a girl like you?"
"I intend to take that up with you, once your memory's back," she answered, wondering why he looked most like himself to her when he was grim or flirting. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, knowing it would disconcert him, wishing that it wouldn't. "Among other things."
"Oh, yuck, mush..." Peter's groan of dismay saved Gambit the necessity of replying, which was just as well, since judging by the dazed look in his eyes it was going to take a moment before he had enough bloodflow to the brain to be coherent.
"Are you married?" Florrie asked, and Purdey felt her own cheeks heating.
"No, no... we're just friends. And colleagues," she added hastily, kicking herself for giving into impulse while the children were in the room. Peter was looking anywhere except at the two adults and Florrie was considering them with a skeptical but interested eyebrow. "But you were right," she told the girl. "I have been worried."
"Sorry," Gambit said.
She patted his arm. "Just don't disappear on me again," she said. "And try trusting me. Steed too. We're on your side."
He muttered something about wishing he knew what side that was and sank back to the bed -- more carefully this time. When he was settled he looked up at her somberly. "Whether I trust you or not, I've still got to go out there and see if I can't lead him off. They trusted me," he nodded to the children. "Don't you see? And the sooner I go, the better."
"Not necessarily." Purdey took out the RT unit and thumbed the transmission switch. "Steed, I'm with Gambit, and I've had a look at the man whose been following him. Definitely one of Miller's Mob."
"I see. How's Gambit?"
"He wants to go out the front door and leave the kids safe behind."
"If I thought that would work, I'd agree with him. But Sam and I have come up with a better notion. Can you get Gambit out the back way? Sam says it means going over garden walls." Steed sounded cheerful, at any rate, and Purdey wondered what he'd cooked up.
"Not easily. Those walls are four or five feet high." She felt a touch on her elbow and looked down to see what Gambit wanted.
"Can I talk to Sam?"
Purdey passed along the request, trying to squelch a pang of jealousy. What was it about Sam that Gambit trusted over herself and Steed, anyway? She handed the RT over as the boy's voice came on.
"Gumby?"
"Sam. Sam, it's too dangerous. If the Watcher's not from Steed, then he's probably the one who put me in hospital, and he's not going to hesitate to hurt you if he thinks you're in the way."
"I know. That's why we're going with you," Sam interrupted, before Gambit could repeat his offer to go out the door on his own.
"With me?" he asked instead, his forehead wrinkling. Peter and Florrie crowded a little closer to listen.
"Downriver. Like we planned, except it will be all of us. And instead of trying to come back upriver we'll call my father at work and have him meet us in the City, and then stay away until Mr. Steed's caught the Watcher and any friends he might have. They don't know about the secret tunnel, you see, so he can arrange for them to get caught the moment they come down the chute." Sam's voice was high and shaky, but certain. Purdey, watching the other three, thought that they were going to take more convincing. Peter took off his glasses and cleaned them with a shirttail as if the ritual would help him see better, and Florrie drew up one foot to rest against the other knee while she worried a thumbnail against her front teeth.
"And you think that's going to be safe?" Gambit voiced the hesitation for all of them.
"Safer than staying here," Sam said. "My dad's going to skin me, regardless, but if we're not here to be hurt, then no one's going to be able to hurt us. And the sooner the better. Only if you can't get over the walls we'll have to think of some other way to get you out of Peter's place, and that gives the Watcher more time to call in rein...reincarnations?"
"Reinforcements," Gambit corrected him with a wry smile. "All right, Sam. Give the radio back to Steed. I'll get over the walls," Gambit handed the RT back to Purdey. "Somehow."
Peter brightened. "We'll need the steps," he said and darted out of the room.
"Steed, just how quickly do you want us?" Purdey asked.
"We'll need a few minutes ourselves to get in position... start out in about five minutes," came the answer. "That should do, and we'll meet you along the way. "
"But that means we'll miss tea!" Florrie wailed, her thus-far admirable composure slipping rapidly into tears.
Purdey's doubts on Gambit's behalf didn't stop her from grinning when he instinctively turned on the charm and reached a hand out to the girl to draw her into a gentle hug. "Here, here, what's all this?"
Florrie sniffled a little into his shoulder and then drew back. "Sam sounds scared. Sam's never scared -- he's as bad as Peanut."
"Nothing wrong with being scared when there's something to be scared of," Gambit said. He turned up a corner of the bedsheet to use on her face. "Now about missing tea..."
"I'm hungry," Florrie admitted. "And Mum's making chicken."
"Well, I can't help the chicken. But tell you what," he said, picking up his crutches again. "I saw a loaf of bread in the kitchen. We'll take that and some jam with us and eat along the way. Okay? I don't think Peter's dad will mind if I add that to the cornflakes I'm going to pay for."
Florrie liked that idea. "It's not as good as chicken, but I guess it'll have to do." She smiled damply. "And there's bound to be tins of beans. Peter's always got lots of beans."
Gambit levered himself upright. "Right. Go on, then, see what you can find in the cupboards while I work my way down the stairs. I'll bet the others will be hungry too."
"Don't forget you'll need a tin opener," Purdey said. "And spoons!" she added to the child's vanishing back. She bent to move the chair out of the way so that Gambit could maneuver more easily to the door. He'd stopped to put a child's satchel over his shoulder, but when he straightened and met her eyes he matched her smile. For a moment she could almost forget. "You and your damsels in distress!"
Gambit grinned. "Damsels plural?" he enquired. "That sounds hopeful anyway. I hope most of them are a bit older though!"
Peter came back, carrying a three-step ladder over his shoulder and the brief moment of rapport was over, but as the boy led the way down the stairs to the cellar Purdey found herself contemplating it. As annoyed as she was with the man for taking off on his own, he'd benefited from it. Maybe it was being around the children that made him seem to act older than he had at the hospital, but it was clear to her that he'd discarded some of the uncertainty he'd had earlier. He was treating her more like an equal at least, and less like an authority, or an impossibly older beauty. A shame in a way, as she'd rather enjoyed being able to make him blush. But Gambit -- her Gambit -- was still inside that battered, fuzzy head, and the more she saw the more determined she was to help him back to himself.
The garden door opened easily from the inside, though it had the kind of catch that would lock automatically when it swung closed, but getting up to it still involved going up a short flight of rickety wooden stairs and Purdey could see why Gambit hadn't tried it earlier. The stairs were barely wide enough for him to use even one of the crutches, and the railing wobbled so much that she found herself catching hold to steady it as he made his careful way up into the afternoon shade of the garden. She stopped to jam the lock open, knowing Steed would want to be able to get in without climbing into windows, and then followed Gambit and Purdey down to the far end of the garden. Florrie joined them as they reached the first of the walls to get over, bringing a bulging carrysack that clanked ominously. "I hope my mum doesn't decide to look outside or we're for it," she whispered.
Gambit looked up at the open window above them and blew exasperatedly. "Lovely. I've not only got to get over the wall I've got to do it without making a noise," he muttered. "This should be interesting. All right, Peter, set up the steps."
"You can't put the crutches on the steps," Purdey protested quietly.
"I'm not going to try." He reached down and pushed at the steps, rearranging them until he had them positioned as firmly as possible in the soft ground. "Okay. Stand back."
If she'd known what he was going to do she'd have protested, but by the time she figured it out he'd already backed up a couple of crutchhop lengths and then swung forward, putting his good leg on the highest step he could manage and then flinging the crutches aside as he reached for the wall and boosted himself toward it with both arms, kicking the steps away and then swinging his legs high and around like a gymnast on a horse. Somehow he managed to end up sitting on the concrete cap over the bricks of the wall, facing into the next garden. Purdey darted forward to grab the back of his coat and arm so that he wouldn't fall.
"That was a damfool stunt," she growled, in lieu of being able to yell at him.
"It worked, didn't it?" Not without costing him a good bit of hoarded strength, judging from his pallor, and his pained whisper. "Peter. I need the steps over this side next."
"It won't work twice," Purdey pointed out, accepting the ladder and crutches that Peter and Florrie collected and handing them over once the children had scrambled over the wall. She went over next, and positioned the steps under Gambit's good foot. He scooted out until he could make the short drop to the top of the stepladder and then bent down to get the crutches and swing down to the ground, moving very carefully. He didn't protest her supporting grasp either, as she steadied him. "And there's another wall to get over."
"It's going to have to, unless you've got another suggestion," Gambit said shortly, his eyes shut tight against against the pain. "Just give me a minute."
"Well I think we can manage something similar but slower, if you don't mind waiting for Steed to help."
"I can manage by myself."
"Yes, but why bother when you don't have to?" Purdey asked, trying to keep her tone reasonable. "You're letting the kids help."
He looked at her sharply, and then flushed. "Yeah, I guess I am," he mumbled, ducking his head.
"Were you?" Purdey hadn't noticed. There had been a lot of children chasing each other and shouting in the streets near the schoolyard, but she'd been looking for someone taller.
"Couldn't keep up, though. You can't half run," that assessment was made in tones of such admiration Purdey decided it must be a compliment. "But I got close enough to hear you asking after Gumby once or twice. Didn't sound like you were chasing him to me. Sounded like you were worried." Florrie wrinkled her nose at Purdey. "He's not bad is he? Gumby, I mean? You're not the police after him? Because he said he didn't think he was and Sam believes him, but Sam believes just about anything once he starts pretending."
"No," Purdey said, "He's not bad. But this isn't a game of pretend."
"Guess not," Florrie said, and went on. When Purdey was satisfied that they didn't have anyone following them, the girl turned down a narrow lane and they ducked through a gap in an iron railing and over two garden walls before coming to a long narrow walled garden behind a three story apartment block. By the assorted toys and the carefully marked out vegetable plots, Purdey guessed that every family in the building made use of the space. But Florrie didn't even try the door. Instead she led the way to a Tree-of-Heaven that just barely supported Purdey's weight on the scramble up to a first-floor window. That gave into a bedroom where a very small boy was sitting in a crib, disembowelling a stuffed animal. He favored them with a mildly interested gaze, and then went back to pulling fluff out and throwing it onto the floor with a studious air. He wasn't Peter, though, because Florrie kept going, signalling for quiet as they passed through the flat, and avoiding the notice of the woman in the kitchen who was singing along to the radio and the clatter of pots and pans.
Safely in the hallway, with the door to the flat closed behind them, Florrie wiped her forehead. "I'd've had you meet my mum, but she'd want explanations," she said. "Peter's upstairs."
"And Peter's mum won't want explanations?" Purdey asked, following her up the steps.
"She's dead. And his dad works, so he leaves a key." Florrie reached the door she wanted and turned up the mat, collecting the key she'd mentioned. "See?" She unlocked the door and replaced the key and then ushered Purdey inside. "Peter! It's me. Where are you?"
"My room!" came the answer. A chubby eleven-year-old with glasses popped into evidence and then blinked and stepped back. "Who's that?"
"Friend of Gumby's," Florrie answered. But the question had been enough to raise the alarm and by the time Purdey reached the bedroom door Gambit was on his feet, holding one of his crutches up as if to swing. He looked even more frightened than he had before, and she could tell he was tiring.
"A friend?" he asked, tensely.
"A friend," Purdey said, being careful not to look away from his eyes. She didn't want to fight him, but she wasn't sure the reverse was true. "Gambit, Steed didn't send anyone after you, and neither did I."
"Who's that then?" he said, gesturing to the window with a jerk of his head. Purdey saw that a telescope had been set up to view the road below.
"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to look yet. May I?"
He thought about it for a moment and then nodded, putting the crutch down and hitching himself out of the way. Purdey bent to the telescope and hissed when the man's face swam into view. She'd given him the fading bruise on his chin herself, just after she'd kicked the knife out of his hand outside the armory where she'd been held prisoner. "It is one of Miller's men," she said, mostly to herself.
"What?" She looked up at Gambit, wondering if he'd been that pale a moment earlier. "What did you say?"
She glanced over to the watching children. "I can't explain it right now," she said. "But we've got to get you out of here before he comes in after you."
"Bloody hell," Gambit sank onto the bed, upsetting the bowl of cornflakes that had been left on the pillow, and then catching back language even worse as the milk soaked his trousers. "F... " He locked his jaw, visibly pulling his temper in until he could talk without swearing. "What if he goes after the kids? Peter, we've got to get the others clear of him, off the street. Now."
"What about the plan? If he thinks you've gone to the train..."
"No. I've got to lead him off." Gambit looked to Purdey. "That's right isn't it? I've got to lead him off, or he'll hurt one of the kids, and it will be all my fault."
"Yes it will," Purdey agreed, sharp with exasperation. "Why couldn't you have just come back to the car?"
"I meant to. And then I saw him following -- and there was something about him put the wind right up. Wasn't till I got up here that Sam and I worked out that he might have been sent by Steed." Gambit pounded a fist against his thigh, as if it would help him to think, and then pushed himself off the bed and hopped onefooted down to the headboard, so that he could look out the window without being so close to it as to be visible from the outside. "If I could just get to the river..."
"The river?" she asked.
"Yeah." His hand tightened on the headboard until the knuckles went white. "Something I need to ... I need to do. Or to find out if I've already done." He was trembling, his emotional balance as precarious as his physical balance. "I mean, it's been fifteen years."
As frustrated as she was by this whole complicated mess, it was clear that he was even more frustrated, and frightened into the bargain. She just couldn't stay angry with him, not when he was in this state. "At least you believe me about the year now," Purdey said, her voice softening as she went to steady him.
"Yeah. Kids don't lie about things like that." When he wasn't leaning on the crutches he was the right height again and she realized how tired she'd got of being the one looking down now that she was the one looking up. The last time she'd seen him at this angle was before Steed brought down the helicopter to fetch them away, though then his face had been a mask of gore. She rested her hand against his chest, both to support him and for the sake of feeling his heart beating underneath the cloth, wondering if he'd remember himself if she tugged on his tie, the way she had when he'd infuriated her after that horrible confusion with the doubles. The corner of his mouth quirked up suddenly, and she saw a transitory glint of himself flicker through his eyes. "But it still doesn't seem right. I mean, how's a bloke meant to have forgotten a girl like you?"
"I intend to take that up with you, once your memory's back," she answered, wondering why he looked most like himself to her when he was grim or flirting. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, knowing it would disconcert him, wishing that it wouldn't. "Among other things."
"Oh, yuck, mush..." Peter's groan of dismay saved Gambit the necessity of replying, which was just as well, since judging by the dazed look in his eyes it was going to take a moment before he had enough bloodflow to the brain to be coherent.
"Are you married?" Florrie asked, and Purdey felt her own cheeks heating.
"No, no... we're just friends. And colleagues," she added hastily, kicking herself for giving into impulse while the children were in the room. Peter was looking anywhere except at the two adults and Florrie was considering them with a skeptical but interested eyebrow. "But you were right," she told the girl. "I have been worried."
"Sorry," Gambit said.
She patted his arm. "Just don't disappear on me again," she said. "And try trusting me. Steed too. We're on your side."
He muttered something about wishing he knew what side that was and sank back to the bed -- more carefully this time. When he was settled he looked up at her somberly. "Whether I trust you or not, I've still got to go out there and see if I can't lead him off. They trusted me," he nodded to the children. "Don't you see? And the sooner I go, the better."
"Not necessarily." Purdey took out the RT unit and thumbed the transmission switch. "Steed, I'm with Gambit, and I've had a look at the man whose been following him. Definitely one of Miller's Mob."
"I see. How's Gambit?"
"He wants to go out the front door and leave the kids safe behind."
"If I thought that would work, I'd agree with him. But Sam and I have come up with a better notion. Can you get Gambit out the back way? Sam says it means going over garden walls." Steed sounded cheerful, at any rate, and Purdey wondered what he'd cooked up.
"Not easily. Those walls are four or five feet high." She felt a touch on her elbow and looked down to see what Gambit wanted.
"Can I talk to Sam?"
Purdey passed along the request, trying to squelch a pang of jealousy. What was it about Sam that Gambit trusted over herself and Steed, anyway? She handed the RT over as the boy's voice came on.
"Gumby?"
"Sam. Sam, it's too dangerous. If the Watcher's not from Steed, then he's probably the one who put me in hospital, and he's not going to hesitate to hurt you if he thinks you're in the way."
"I know. That's why we're going with you," Sam interrupted, before Gambit could repeat his offer to go out the door on his own.
"With me?" he asked instead, his forehead wrinkling. Peter and Florrie crowded a little closer to listen.
"Downriver. Like we planned, except it will be all of us. And instead of trying to come back upriver we'll call my father at work and have him meet us in the City, and then stay away until Mr. Steed's caught the Watcher and any friends he might have. They don't know about the secret tunnel, you see, so he can arrange for them to get caught the moment they come down the chute." Sam's voice was high and shaky, but certain. Purdey, watching the other three, thought that they were going to take more convincing. Peter took off his glasses and cleaned them with a shirttail as if the ritual would help him see better, and Florrie drew up one foot to rest against the other knee while she worried a thumbnail against her front teeth.
"And you think that's going to be safe?" Gambit voiced the hesitation for all of them.
"Safer than staying here," Sam said. "My dad's going to skin me, regardless, but if we're not here to be hurt, then no one's going to be able to hurt us. And the sooner the better. Only if you can't get over the walls we'll have to think of some other way to get you out of Peter's place, and that gives the Watcher more time to call in rein...reincarnations?"
"Reinforcements," Gambit corrected him with a wry smile. "All right, Sam. Give the radio back to Steed. I'll get over the walls," Gambit handed the RT back to Purdey. "Somehow."
Peter brightened. "We'll need the steps," he said and darted out of the room.
"Steed, just how quickly do you want us?" Purdey asked.
"We'll need a few minutes ourselves to get in position... start out in about five minutes," came the answer. "That should do, and we'll meet you along the way. "
"But that means we'll miss tea!" Florrie wailed, her thus-far admirable composure slipping rapidly into tears.
Purdey's doubts on Gambit's behalf didn't stop her from grinning when he instinctively turned on the charm and reached a hand out to the girl to draw her into a gentle hug. "Here, here, what's all this?"
Florrie sniffled a little into his shoulder and then drew back. "Sam sounds scared. Sam's never scared -- he's as bad as Peanut."
"Nothing wrong with being scared when there's something to be scared of," Gambit said. He turned up a corner of the bedsheet to use on her face. "Now about missing tea..."
"I'm hungry," Florrie admitted. "And Mum's making chicken."
"Well, I can't help the chicken. But tell you what," he said, picking up his crutches again. "I saw a loaf of bread in the kitchen. We'll take that and some jam with us and eat along the way. Okay? I don't think Peter's dad will mind if I add that to the cornflakes I'm going to pay for."
Florrie liked that idea. "It's not as good as chicken, but I guess it'll have to do." She smiled damply. "And there's bound to be tins of beans. Peter's always got lots of beans."
Gambit levered himself upright. "Right. Go on, then, see what you can find in the cupboards while I work my way down the stairs. I'll bet the others will be hungry too."
"Don't forget you'll need a tin opener," Purdey said. "And spoons!" she added to the child's vanishing back. She bent to move the chair out of the way so that Gambit could maneuver more easily to the door. He'd stopped to put a child's satchel over his shoulder, but when he straightened and met her eyes he matched her smile. For a moment she could almost forget. "You and your damsels in distress!"
Gambit grinned. "Damsels plural?" he enquired. "That sounds hopeful anyway. I hope most of them are a bit older though!"
Peter came back, carrying a three-step ladder over his shoulder and the brief moment of rapport was over, but as the boy led the way down the stairs to the cellar Purdey found herself contemplating it. As annoyed as she was with the man for taking off on his own, he'd benefited from it. Maybe it was being around the children that made him seem to act older than he had at the hospital, but it was clear to her that he'd discarded some of the uncertainty he'd had earlier. He was treating her more like an equal at least, and less like an authority, or an impossibly older beauty. A shame in a way, as she'd rather enjoyed being able to make him blush. But Gambit -- her Gambit -- was still inside that battered, fuzzy head, and the more she saw the more determined she was to help him back to himself.
The garden door opened easily from the inside, though it had the kind of catch that would lock automatically when it swung closed, but getting up to it still involved going up a short flight of rickety wooden stairs and Purdey could see why Gambit hadn't tried it earlier. The stairs were barely wide enough for him to use even one of the crutches, and the railing wobbled so much that she found herself catching hold to steady it as he made his careful way up into the afternoon shade of the garden. She stopped to jam the lock open, knowing Steed would want to be able to get in without climbing into windows, and then followed Gambit and Purdey down to the far end of the garden. Florrie joined them as they reached the first of the walls to get over, bringing a bulging carrysack that clanked ominously. "I hope my mum doesn't decide to look outside or we're for it," she whispered.
Gambit looked up at the open window above them and blew exasperatedly. "Lovely. I've not only got to get over the wall I've got to do it without making a noise," he muttered. "This should be interesting. All right, Peter, set up the steps."
"You can't put the crutches on the steps," Purdey protested quietly.
"I'm not going to try." He reached down and pushed at the steps, rearranging them until he had them positioned as firmly as possible in the soft ground. "Okay. Stand back."
If she'd known what he was going to do she'd have protested, but by the time she figured it out he'd already backed up a couple of crutchhop lengths and then swung forward, putting his good leg on the highest step he could manage and then flinging the crutches aside as he reached for the wall and boosted himself toward it with both arms, kicking the steps away and then swinging his legs high and around like a gymnast on a horse. Somehow he managed to end up sitting on the concrete cap over the bricks of the wall, facing into the next garden. Purdey darted forward to grab the back of his coat and arm so that he wouldn't fall.
"That was a damfool stunt," she growled, in lieu of being able to yell at him.
"It worked, didn't it?" Not without costing him a good bit of hoarded strength, judging from his pallor, and his pained whisper. "Peter. I need the steps over this side next."
"It won't work twice," Purdey pointed out, accepting the ladder and crutches that Peter and Florrie collected and handing them over once the children had scrambled over the wall. She went over next, and positioned the steps under Gambit's good foot. He scooted out until he could make the short drop to the top of the stepladder and then bent down to get the crutches and swing down to the ground, moving very carefully. He didn't protest her supporting grasp either, as she steadied him. "And there's another wall to get over."
"It's going to have to, unless you've got another suggestion," Gambit said shortly, his eyes shut tight against against the pain. "Just give me a minute."
"Well I think we can manage something similar but slower, if you don't mind waiting for Steed to help."
"I can manage by myself."
"Yes, but why bother when you don't have to?" Purdey asked, trying to keep her tone reasonable. "You're letting the kids help."
He looked at her sharply, and then flushed. "Yeah, I guess I am," he mumbled, ducking his head.
