John, I'm Only Dancing
By J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor any of the associated characters. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. I don't own The Avengers, either, or any of its characters. They belong to Canal+ (Image) International. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.
"It was 1955. You were only a medical student then." The story spooled out of Steed with surprising ease. Perhaps it was due to heaven only knew how many viewings of the film. Or maybe it was down to experience. After all, he'd had practice with several other agents by this point, though he'd never tried it on someone as close as an ex-partner. Still, there had to be a first time for everything. He hoped his composure indicated that he would be able to do this again. He had a feeling he would have to many, many times in the coming years. "There was a particularly virulent bacteria infection running rampant. You worked around the clock, trying to help the other doctors treat the patients. There were too many to name, more than anyone could possibly tend to in a timely fashion, but you did your best to see to it that as many received care as possible." He paused. "Does this sound familiar?"
"Go on," was the only response, and as he couldn't think of much else to do, Steed did.
"Eventually your schedule caught up with you. It had to. It was November, chill in the air and all that. You weren't sleeping properly, weren't eating properly. When the cough started, you brushed it aside and worked through it. Eventually one of the other physicians had to force you off duty, for fear of contaminating the other patients." He took a sip of his coffee to wet his suddenly dry mouth before continuing. "By that point the cough had developed into pneumonia, and that coupled with the same ailments from which your patients were suffering. Your body had no resources with which to fight it, and the hospital didn't have the staff to give you the care you deserved. You hung on for a week, perhaps a little longer, but in the end you succumbed."
"How awful." Carol's voice drifted softly from his left, the woman herself clutching her own coffee cup with white, unmoving fingers. The understatement itself was more than made up for in tone and expression. Brown haunted eyes met Steed's when he turned her way, above the clenched, tight jaw. "You mean he died all those years ago, and he doesn't even remember it?"
"He may now," Steed replied, turning his attention to the man standing by the window, staring out into the blackness of the evening.
"Do you, David?" Carol wanted to know, craning her neck to see him better, but his face was in shadow. He sighed visibly, shoulders heaving, then pushed away from the glass.
"I didn't," Dr. David Keel confessed, "but after Steed's little story, it seems to be coming back." He crossed the floor with slow, deliberate steps. "I should have known the other shoe would drop, even twelve years later." He slid into his seat, vacated before Steed's narrative when his body proved too restless to listen in repose. "When I moved away and stopped taking your calls, I should have known I'd gotten away too easily when you quit trying to make contact. There was always another trick, wasn't there, Steed? And you've saved the best for last." His mouth twisted bitterly. "After all you put us through, the least you could do was let us live out our lives in peace, without dropping this damned bombshell on us."
"I would if it were possible," Steed said sincerely. "You must believe me when I say I take no pleasure in being the bearer of bad news. If I had my way, you'd stay blissfully ignorant. As it is I've left it as late as I dare. But there's a price to this world, this second chance, and if we're not careful, you'll have to pay it very soon. And I'll be the least of your problems."
"That'll be the day," Keel chortled mirthlessly. "Right, what is it then? Lucifer himself coming after me?"
"Just about," Steed said levelly. "The details are unimportant, but deadly to ignore. The solution is to leave. We call it 'crossing over.'"
"'We'?"
"Myself and others with similar...goals."
"There are more of you? It's a wonder we've all lasted as long as we have."
"This is serious!" Steed snapped, feeling annoyed in spite of himself. "I'm offering you the ultimate escape route, some place I'm certain not to follow."
"What about my patients?" Keel shot back. "Dead, or whatever they are. If they really are lost souls, they need all the help I can give them. I can't walk away from that responsibility, come hell or high water."
"Keel..." Steed protested.
"No. Running away never solves a damned thing, as your return amply demonstrates. No, I'll stay. And it'll take more than you to change my mind." He downed the last of his coffee stubbornly, challenging Steed to contradict. Steed felt his own ire building, was about to launch a counterattack, when he felt Carol's hand on his arm.
"I hear things," Carol confided quietly, eyes darting anxiously around the room. "Terrible things. And they're getting worse. I'm hearing them more and more. And I'm seeing things, too. I never used to see things." She met Steed's eyes. "Is that something to do with what you've told David?"
Steed cursed himself internally. He'd never thought of Carol as a proper colleague, just someone to press into service if he and Keel needed a third set of hands. He'd never told her the nature of his business, though he knew she must have suspected. But that meant he hadn't checked out her backstory. He didn't know how long she'd been here. And people who were here for a very long time were always the target of the darker forces. "Yes," he told her truthfully. "And if what you say is true, you have even less time than your husband."
"Less?" Carol echoed, turning wide-eyed to Keel. "David!"
"Steed, if this is a ruse..." Keel warned.
Steed ignored him, focussed on Carol instead. "Mrs. Keel, I beg you, whatever else I may have done to mislead you, you must listen to me now. What you are experiencing is a breakdown in your connection with this world. Whatever happens, you cannot stay here. Either you can leave now, with me, or stay on and take your chances. But I promise you, the next person who comes for you will not have your best interests at heart."
Carol stuck her jaw out defiantly. "It's Dr. Keel, actually," she corrected, with just a touch of pride. "David encouraged me to go back to school. And I believe you, Steed, but I can't leave. Not without David."
Steed closed his eyes in frustration, beating back the urge to push her, knowing it would only make things worse. The original Dr. Keel had never responded well to threats, and he was willing to bet the new one wouldn't, either. Careful, quiet persuasion was his best bet, and his old partner was the one to aim it at. He shifted his attention to Keel, meaning to give him his best pitch, but to his surprise, the good doctor was looking at his wife with something like acceptance in his eyes.
"Is it the only way?" he questioned, not bothering to look at Steed.
"Yes," Steed confirmed. "For her and for you. But you must act soon."
"Then we'll leave now," Keel decided, standing. "If Carol wants to."
Carol shot up from her seat. "I'll go get my bag," she said quickly, dashing out of the room before Steed could tell her that she wouldn't be needing it. Oh well. It wasn't going to hurt anyone. He turned his attention to Keel instead.
"You're making the right decision," he assured him.
Keel regarded him with a healthy dose of scepticism. "That remains to be seen. If it were just me, I'd stay for my patients. I'm not going for myself. I'm going for Carol."
"The best reason of all," Steed opined, nodded toward the door. "Get your coat. It's miserable outside."
