The Ointment for Success
By ElementsOfSapphire
DISCLAIMER/Please Note: This/these stories are all purely for fan-fun purposes only; no copyright infringement intended. I own none of the rights relating to either The Avengers, nor The New Avengers; none of the characters, sets, the lot. I'm awfully sorry if posting such stories relating to the show is not allowed or is unwanted. In which case, please accept my every apology and inform me so I can take them down. Once again, I'm just a teen fan that wants to get their work shown and evaluated, so please tell me if its is wished for my story/stories to be taken down- or even my entire username. Thank you :)
Notes: My first, long story! Re-vamped, edited and 101% improved! If you read it before, please try it again: I've tried to make it somewhat more Avengerish and in character- so your opinion would be grand :) Cheers for checking out this story though :D
Extra special note: A super extra-special note has to be given to Timeless A-peel. There are no words to describe how much of a fangirl I am of this person's work, and the fact they Beta-ed this for me, is beyond words! They gave me such in-depth notes and handy tips, and bless their cotton socks- gave me hints throughout the whole story! So here's a MASSIVE thanks to Timeless A-peel for taking the time out to help out a starting writer like me. :)
Mike Gambit awoke to the blissful shards of summer light that pierced through his front room windows, their golden rays shining on all they could. He smiled through his yawn, lazily pulling himself up to a sitting position so that he could check the time. As beautiful of a morning it appeared to be, something was wrong about the brightness, the glow, the vividness of it all. He picked up the clock and blinked several times to clear the sleepy glaze across his eyes. Ten o'clock? Six o'clock was a lay-in in his business. Surely that couldn't be right? Where was Charlie to waken him? Where was Purdey pounding on his door to lecture him on being late? It wasn't S95 all over again was it...?
Somehow he missed the banner pinned to the side of his wall, and apparently he missed the card and presents stacked by the sofa-bed too. Perhaps it was his sleepy auto-pilot that lead him to the kitchen cupboard to pluck out the bird seed; to pour it on top of the debris of what the bird had already eaten; to wander through to the bathroom without barely batting an eye lid. It was only once he'd splashed some of the Thames water onto his face that he woke up enough to notice the sixteen letters banner that hung beside his bed.
"Happy Birthday, Mike," he read aloud, then shookhis head, smirking. Whoever had hung the message had done so stealthily, no doubt whilst he was still asleep. Maybe they had fed Charlie so his song didn't wake him. But definitely, they'd come into his flat without asking his permission. And there was only one person in the world that would dare to do that...
"You must be a lonely man to have to say 'Happy Birthday' to yourself," teased a woman, wandering from the spare room. Her hair was a sort of long bob, blonde and well groomed with half of the hair tied up by a scrunchie behind her. Her make-up was elegant, not too thick nor too sparse, and her attire was equally as sweet: small red shorts and a lacy cream t-shirt. Mike sighed momentarily at the jest, taking a seat on the newly retracted sofa-bed. The girl smiled back, taking a present from the side board and offering it to Mike as she took a seat beside him.
"Can you tell me next time you're planning to visit?"
"Would ruin the surprise a bit," she retorted, patting the presents merrily. "Though don't expect any of those to say 'love Purdey'; one of the cards will but none of those wrapped boxes. Those are from Steed and Mother- she sends her love, by the way. She would have come with me but she was called in this morning about those pains again."
"Is she still getting those, then?"
Purdey nodded back in response, her expression remaining serious from having spoken about her mother. She hoped that Tessa would be ok. Then again, any daughter would.
Mike sighed with understanding, pulling at the ribbon of the first present marked 'love Tessa'. He barely knew the woman, though he was glad to have met her; after all, he was one of only two men in the whole of the ministry who could say that, the only other one turning out to be a fraud. Inside the paper was a neatly folded pair of ties, both patterned but one emerald and the other a sort of sapphire colour. He examined them carefully and concluded that he rather liked them, pulling the deep blue one around his neck and allowing Purdey to fix it into place.
"So Steed and even your own mum can offer me a gift... and you can't?"
"Mine comes in two halves," she began, letting the knotted tie fall onto his chest. "You can open one after these two."
"Oh alright," he sighed. Mike picked up the other gift, this one with a sweet little message from Steed printed on the front. 'It may be your birthday, but still: Use me wisely.' Inside the parcel was something someone should indeed use wisely: a new handgun, well polished and engraved with the words 'Mike Gambit'. The metal shone so bright in the morning light, and the barrel was as black as a starless sky. It truly was a magnificent piece.
"Well, that did make you smile," Purdey lamented, watching Mike's boyish grin grow as he inspected the device in increasingly further detail. "But I can guarantee you'll smile more at mine."
"Oh?" he quizzed, placing the new gun gently on top of a box of tissues so that it wouldn't be marked or damaged. He'd wanted a tacky, personalised gun for months, and Steed had come through in spades. How would he ever thank the man? "As far as I can see, there isn't anything here from you."
"It doesn't need a box. Honestly Gambit, I thought you were meant to be intelligent."
"I am, and after just over thirty years of birthdays, I can s..."
Gambit had no chance to finish his train of thought. Purdey had silenced him in a way that he would never have moaned about. It was something he never even thought she would do. The woman had taken his new tie back into her grasp and softly pulled him closer, placing her lips on his as sweetly as she dared. It wasn't the longest kiss in history, she just made sure he had time to realise properly that he was no longer talking, why he was no longer talking, just who was stopping him, and then an extra moment for him to just enjoy his good fortune. She eventually pulled away to look at his face, and indeed the lady had been true to her words. His smile was one that even a young child at Christmas could not beat, broad and beaming, with his eyes locked on hers.
"What... What was that for?" he asked, trembling slightly and pulling anxiously at his tie.
"Your birthday present. You've been a good friend to me this year, Mike, and I wanted to give you something that would make you smile. It wasn't as expensive as Steed's but... well, you know what I'm like about that sort of thing, so for me it's still giving a lot."
"I know that, Purdey-girl. It was a nice present. Best one I've had in a while."
"The other half you can have later, but I think that's enough for you right now." She smiled, her thoughts centred on his joyous face. You're so easy to please, Mike Gambit.*sigh* "But in not too long you'll be having Steed tapping at that door, so I think its best we get you up and dressed."
"Right," he agreed, still very much in a trance. "Wait... Steed?"
"Well it would be an awful surprise birthday party if there weren't any guests, wouldn't it? What time is it?"
"About half ten," he replied, finally realising that his hand was still resting around Purdey's waist and pulling it away rather quickly. He felt slightly surprised that she hadn't grumbled at him, but clearly she was trying hard to think, so he'd ask her later.
"Ten? My watch said it was nine still..."
"Did you put the clock forward? Purdey, isn't that your old watch?"
Purdey looked down to realise that she was indeed wearing the old gold watch her mother had given her when she had her first proper show with the Royal Ballet-the same day she had met Larry. The watch Mike had given her for Christmas was at the jewellers having a new battery fitted, and daylight savings hadn't even crossed her mind. However, having discovered she was now an hour behind, she became overwhelmed with an incredible sense of fear.
"You don't understand, Mike. Steed was meant to arrive forty five minutes ago. He's never late."
"Well... Maybe he's with that delectable Trisha." Mike wasn't mocking the man; he just found it sweet (or at least bizarre) that Steed should have taken up with the woman once again. They'd been apart for quite some time, Mike had almost forgotten about her by the time she somehow wandered back into Steed's affections. His smile however, was promptly misread by Purdey as something other than a fond thought of a friend...
"Nice... is she?" Purdey quipped, smirking playfully.
"I was just quoting you!" he snapped back in defence, slightly more aggressive than he should have perhaps been. Realising his mistake, he shook his head of thoughts and began again, this time much cooler and softer in tone. "Look, Purdey, you have no need to be worried. If he doesn't turn up in say, twenty minutes, we'll give him a ring."
"And if that doesn't work? You know our business, Mike. Being late usually only means one of two things. You've been kidnapped or ki..."
"We'll run round to his in my car and pick him up from the Stud Farm if he doesn't turn up in say," Mike consulted his watch decisively "Thirty minutes. He's a brave man with more than his fair share of experience under the belt. I doubt there's anything to worry about."
Purdey nodded in agreement, feeling both slightly defeated and slightly relieved to have someone as strong as Mike helping her to concrete what she was convincing herself to believe. Thanks to a rather tempestuous past (including Larry), her thoughts and feelings towards those she loved could be a little confused at points. Some days she was quick to leap into action, to fight and defend; some days she simply struggled to think of a rational action. Today, unfortunately, was one of those days.
As time passed by and card games became shorter from lack of concentration, it was agreed that Purdey should phone Steed to try and find the man before they rushed, possibly irrationally, over to the farm. She scooped up the phone from beside Mike's bed, hurriedly tapping in the number for the Steed's abode. She tried several times, becoming more anxious with each attempt as the phone just kept ringing-no answer. She tried Trisha and the Ministry, but McKay hadn't seen him and even Kendrick could only offer his best wishes for their search. On finally realising defeat and placing the receiver down, Gambit scrunched his hands into a ball and let his face rest on them, trying his hardest to think of the next plan of action.
"Where is he, Mike? No one's seen him. Even Trisha said she hadn't heard from him. I don't like this, Mike. I don't like it."
"Neither do I. But we've got to remember it's Steed. No matter what's happened, he's got a better chance of surviving it than most," Mike pointed out. He could see that Purdey was as anxious as he felt. How long had she been in the business now? She should be used to people just disappearing... but she did have a point. It was Steed, the John Steed. If he was on an assignment, he usually told them. Even if he didn't, someone should have known his whereabouts, even if it wasn't them. "Why don't you go and bring my car round?" he suggested. "I'll quickly grab my cardigan. But it still doesn't mean anything. We're used to people going off the grid."
"Alright," she agreed, hurrying across the flat to the front door. Mike made for the spare room within which was his bountiful abundance of cardigans; some hooded, some softer, some patterned, some plain. He picked out his favourite; a smooth white cotton with a rather large hood and closed the cupboard once more. Jogging lightly to begin, his pace soon changed to being much faster as he heard Purdey's mournful cry; her usually placid, luxurious voice breaking into a bark of kinds, intertwined with a deep sniffle.
"Mike! It's Steed! Phone Kendrick now, there isn't time!" Purdey called from just beyond Mike's own door. He couldn't see the woman- she was, perhaps, three or four paces down the communal corridor and blocked by his swinging front door.
"Wha- what should I tell him? Purdey, what's wrong with Steed?!" flapped Mike, his voice loud so to be heard around the door. Not being able to see Steed and pass his own judgement was painful, but he could trust Purdey, and on this occasion it appeared to be paramount that he did.
"Tell him," she started, her voice seemingly as rough as any sandpaper, "Tell him he's about to die and we need help. Hurry!"
Mike repeated everything Purdey had said to the poor secretary at the other end of the line. He spoke clearly, making no mistakes and insisting on instant help; years of service had been kind to Gambit's nerves, and thankfully his message was passed on ever so hastily. Kendrick agreed to come rushing, but as far as Purdey could see, that would be of no help. Steed was growing ever colder, his heart rate dropping even quicker, his eyes shutting ever so ominously.
"How is he?" Gambit asked as he fell beside Purdey, having replaced the receiver and bounded quickly to be with them. "I rang Kendrick; he was getting into his car as we spoke. He said that he shouldn't be too long anyway. It's nowhere near the morning rush hour and... Purdey, why are you staring at him like that? Purdey, what's wrong?"
"You can tell Kendrick not to bother," she replied darkly, her steel green eyes meeting his with what he interpreted to be pure hatred. Not towards him, no; but towards someone else, someone much further off. "This man is dead."
