Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

One day passed, then another, then three. Purdey checked at the Ministry's front desk every morning, noon, and evening for any word that Gambit had returned or called in, but the answer was always in the negative. She ran the course a few times with some willing classmates, but none of them understood the joke behind the 'party tricks,' and she spent most of her time keeping limber instead. But as she watched the time tick away, she felt her heart slowly sink. She checked with Steed, McKay, anyone, for some sort of report on Gambit's progress, but apparently Mike was too busy to report in. She went to bed the night before the test feeling disappointed in more ways she had thought possible. Somehow, she'd found it inconceivable that Mike Gambit could let her down.

The next morning, Purdey packed her duffle bag without much enthusiasm, part of her wondering whether to even bother going in for the day. But no, there was time. The course runs started at eleven, and theirs was scheduled for 11:30. She glanced at the clock. Just over four hours for Gambit to make it in. He might, she allowed, reaching for the doorknob. No, he has to.

Mike Gambit was sprinting like his life depended on it. Which it did, really. If he didn't make it back in time, he was certain Purdey would have his guts for garters. That set him off on another train of thought involving a pair of shapely, stocking-clad legs.

Focus, Mike. You need to get this report in.

The man in the office, the German equivalent of McKay, started in surprise as Gambit burst unceremoniously into his office, despite the protestations of the secretary in the outer office.

"Don't you know how to knock, Gambit?" he asked in German, minor annoyance spread across his face.

"Sorry sir," Gambit apologized, and backtracked to knock on the door before depositing a file on the man's desk. "That's my report, sir. Everything accounted for. Permission to return to England immediately."

The man raised an eyebrow. "In a hurry, are we?"

Gambit nodded vigorously, wondering if he'd overdone it one the coffee that morning. "I made a promise, sir, to a friend, that I'd be back home today. She's counting on me, sir."

"You made a promise to a girl?"

"Yessir."

"Haven't we all," the man commented wryly. "Well, then, Gambit, I see no reason for you to miss this appointment. By all means, go. Thank you for your assistance."

Gambit nearly fainted in relief. "Thank you, sir. You saved my life."

"I know," the man said knowingly to Gambit's retreating back. "Only too well."

Purdey was idly tapping a pen against her lip and watching the clock inch its way toward ten. Steed passed by the break room in which she was ensconced, popped his head in. "Still no sign of Gambit," he inferred from Purdey's long face.

"No," she sighed, crossing and uncrossing her legs in anxiety. "I shouldn't have expected the impossible, I suppose. It was wrong to ask him to cut it so close. I shouldn't have asked him to run the course in the first place."

"Now, you know that's wrong," Steed said gently, coming to sit across from her at her table. "If Gambit didn't think he could make it back, he wouldn't have made you think otherwise. If there's one thing you can say about Gambit, it's that he keeps his word. He's reliable."

"That's two things," Purdey pointed out with a sigh. "I hope you're right."

"Give him time," Steed suggested, standing again. "He'll be here."

"Sir?" the stewardess called, knocking on the bathroom door once more. "Sir, the aircraft is landing. I must insist that you return to your seat." She paused, considering the possibilities. "If you're not alone in there—"

The door swung open, and Gambit squeezed out of the small space, now changed into his fatigues for the course. He smiled at the surprised stewardess. "I'm alone," he corrected, "this time, anyway." He took in her bemused expression. "Appointment," he explained lamely. "I don't want to be late."

It was eleven. Purdey sat perched on a chair, watching at the first team made its start across the course. They were released at ten minute intervals so as to prevent crowding that could hurt a team's time. Gambit and Purdey were third in line. The rest of her classmates watched as the first pair, Wallace and Havers, took off the sound of the starting pistol. Spence, there in an observational capacity, sidled over to where Purdey sat and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Mike not turned up yet, eh?" he sympathized.

Purdey shook her head gloomily.

"Well, don't worry. Mike was never one to stand up a pretty young lady. He's still got half an hour."

Purdey sighed. "Half an hour," she agreed glumly.

"Can't you make this thing go any faster?" Gambit asked of the cab driver, who was getting more than a little fed up with his backseat driver of a passenger.

"Look, guv, this isn't Daytona. I'm doing my best," he justified, maneuvering around a lorry with, in Gambit's eyes, agonizing slowness.

"You bet it isn't," Gambit muttered, unbuckling his seat belt. "Pull over."

"Wha--?"

"Just do it," Gambit said levelly, and the cabbie obeyed. Gambit climbed out and walked over to the driver's side, yanked the door open. "Get out. I'm driving."

"Hey, you just can't—" the man tried to protest, but Gambit's ID was filling his vision. "Government business," he explained. "Shift over. I was at Daytona. You might learn a thing or two."

Purdey glanced at the clock again. Fifteen minutes to go. She looked to Spence, who could only shrug. This couldn't be happening.

The cabbie barely managed to detach his hands from where they'd latched themselves to the dashboard to accept the handful of notes Gambit flung at him before leaping lithely up the Ministry steps, suitcase in hand.

"Daytona," he mused dazedly. "Surprised he didn't bloody crash."

George Radcliffe looked up from the file he was perusing as he ambled down the hall just in time to avoid a head-on collision with his old friend.

"George!"

"Mike!"

"Here." Gambit thrust his suitcase into Radcliffe's hands. "Take this."

"What's in it?"

"My dirty laundry."

"Ah, national security, then?" Radcliffe quipped with a smirk. "You don't expect me to do it?"

"Just hang onto it," Gambit called over his shoulder, already racing down the hall.

"Five minutes," Purdey said to herself, standing up and toying absently with a strand of blonde hair. "He's not going to make it," she declared to Spence, who was grinning in a way she didn't appreciate considering the circumstances. "What is it?" she asked impatiently. "Gambit's not going to make it. I hardly think that's amusing."

"Why, Purdey, I thought you trusted me."

Purdey felt her eyes widen. It couldn't be… She spun to find Gambit's smiling face. He was changed and puffing a little from exertion, but he was there.

"I told you I'd make it," he panted. "I can't believe you'd doubt me, after all we've been through."

Purdey wasn't listening. "Mike Gambit, you're beautiful!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the starting line. "I could kiss you."

"Fine by me," Gambit replied, glad that his breath was back.

"There's no time for that now," she said impatiently. "We've got work to do. Do you need to stretch first?"

"No thanks. I did my warm-up jogging through Heathrow," Gambit confided.

Purdey didn't have a chance to reply. The starting gun went off, and the two of them were suddenly one, leaping off the line and toward the first of the many obstacles.

John Steed entered quietly a few seconds later, came to stand beside Spence. "Gambit made it in time, I see," he commented to the other man.

"The nick of time," Spence clarified. "Just as well, too. Look at the pair of them." He shook his head. "In all my years watching agents run the course, they're the first."

Steed frowned. "First? In what way?'

Spence pointed to the two figures, engaged in their own strange dance. "Gambit and Purdey, they must be mad. They're smiling. No one smiles while they run that thing."

Steed was smiling now. "Perhaps they're enjoying themselves," he murmured remembering what it was like to have a close connection with another human being. "I think," he confided to Spence, "that they're destined for great things."

"Steed!" Purdey, fresh from the locker room, waved gaily down the corridor at the bowler-hatted agent, hurrying over to where he stood next to the safeboxes with Gambit in tow. All an agent's watches and other adornments were checked at the station before the course, just in case someone fancied themselves a 'Q', and had added a few extras. Gambit had only managed to throw off all off his watch and other belongings just before entering the training course, left in an untidy heap for the girl manning the desk to stow. Purdey reached their destination first, positively bursting with excitement.

"Did you hear?" she trilled. "Gambit and I set a new record. It's the best since they've had since they started the course back in '67."

"I did," Steed confirmed, beaming back at her. "Congratulations to the pair of you."

"And you thought I'd let you down," Gambit said in mock-disappointment, although his grin was nearly as big as Purdey's, putting a friendly arm around the girl's waist. She hugged his arm affectionately and pulled a face.

"I didn't doubt you for a moment," she insisted, and the pair exchanged a huge smile.

"George is going to be steamed," Gambit confided, "that I beat the record without him. Serves him right for being so damned unflexible."

"I did my best," Purdey demurred, accepting the compliment about her bendable frame. "The rest of my classmates didn't look any happier about it."

"Only because none of them had partners worth kissing to celebrate," Gambit pointed out, grinning wickedly as he recalled Purdey's enthusiastic response to victory.

"I would've kissed a shark," Purdey replied, blushing. "It just so happens that you were part of the reason we did as well as we did."

"Ah, she's going to let me in for some of the credit," Gambit said pointedly to Steed. "She's even happier than I thought."

"Oh, hush," Purdey scolded good-humouredly, with an elbow to the ribs. "Purdey and Gambit," she told the girl behind the counter, who nodded and went to fetch their boxes.

"We should celebrate," Gambit told his blonde colleague. "It's been a rough month. We deserve it."

"Dinner?" Purdey asked hopefully.

"It's just past noon," Gambit pointed out.

"Lunch, then. And then dinner," Purdey reasoned, and Gambit shook his head.

"You and your stomach," he said in disbelief. "You'll eat through my savings at this rate."

"I'm high maintenance," Purdey preened. "Like my namesake, the shotgun."

"No one knows that better than I," Gambit murmured appreciatively.

The boxes arrived, and the pair opened them in unison, then, as though choreographed, they removed the pieces one by one, in the same order. Out came the pinky rings, onto the fingers. Then the chains—Gambit's St. Christopher did up in the same time as Purdey's thin gold version. The watches were next. As Purdey finished off putting her earrings in, Steed watched them in vague amusement, checked the impulse to see if they were blinking in unison.

"I see your training's extended off the course," he commented, and Purdey and Gambit exchanged bemused glances.

"I don't follow," Gambit voiced for the pair of them. Steed was about to elaborate--or ask them if they were joking--but McKay had suddenly materialised beside them, holding a file and looking grim.

"Tommy," Steed acknowledged, feeling the frown creep across his own face as he caught sight of his old friend's expression. "Purdey and Gambit made an excellent show on the course."

"So I heard," McKay confirmed, nodding curtly to the pair. "That's the last round for you, isn't it? Full agent now," he added to Purdey.

Purdey was still grinning broadly. "And not a moment too soon," she opined. "The uniform was getting tiresome."

"I'm glad you feel that way," McKay replied, sliding a file across the counter toward them. Gambit stopped it with a finger and turned it round, frowned at Purdey before looking back at McKay.

"Thornton?" he queried, reading the name off the file. Purdey peered over his shoulder, positively champing at the bit.

"An assignment already?" she asked hopefully, bringing her eyes up to meet McKay's. "I haven't even filled the paperwork out to have my status changed."

"Oh, Steed will see to that," McKay stated, and Steed raised a surprised eyebrow at his two younger charges.

"Will I?" he murmured to himself, tapping a finger on the counter thoughtfully.

"Who's Thornton when he's at home?" Gambit wanted to know, opening the file and skimming the contents.

"You'll find out in there," McKay told him. "At the moment, there's a body been discovered. One of ours. I'd like you to take a look at it, Gambit, see if you can find any connection between his death and that file. There's a note about the location there, as well. And as Purdey's ready for assignments, I see no reason why she can't accompany you. Now that you're partners, it'll give you an opportunity to walk her through the process."

"I already have—" Purdey began, but McKay cut her off.

"As soon as possible, please," he said firmly, and Purdey and Gambit barely had time to bid Steed good-bye before scuttling off on their task. Steed waited until they were out of sight before turning his attention to his old friend.

"I was under the impression Purdey and Gambit were going to take their assignments through me," he pointed out gently.

"They will," McKay confirmed, "but I wanted Gambit specifically for this assignment, and the sooner the two of them get to work, the better."

"They're an excellent team already," Steed commented.

"A little too fond of one another, though," McKay said grmily. "They've spent too much time together isolated from the realities of the job."

"Ah, the truth comes out," Steed said with a slight smile. "Two's company, and a dead man's the bucket of ice water?"

McKay made a noise between a snort and a chuckle. "It's for their own good. They'll be better agents for it."

"They're already well on their way as they are," Steed pointed out. "I know we're meant to keep a healthy distance, just in case, but even you can't claim to really subscribe to total impartiality. You know as well as I that friendship can be the greatest asset in this business. Certainly the most solid."

"Yes," McKay agreed. "But it's different with a man and a woman. Easier to get entangled."

"You're not trying to insinuate anything about my choice of partners, by any chance?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. You made excellent choices."

"And so have Purdey and Gambit. Don't worry, Tommy. They'll be all right. And I'll be keeping an eye on them," Steed assured. "But it's best not to guide unless they're really going to put their feet in it. Besides, I doubt there's much you could do to dampen their enthusiasm at the moment."

"The body might," McKay said knowingly. "It's Harlow. Gambit's been assigned to him a few times, hasn't he?"

Steed sucked his teeth, pondering this piece of information. "Yes."

"That'll have him thinking, at any rate," McKay murmured.

"A bit heavy-handed, even for you, Tommy," Steed chastised.

McKay actually sighed, finally. "I know," he murmured. "I would've chosen a gentler example, but Gambit knew Harlow better than most. Another one with a penchant for going off on his own. I thought he was the best choice."