Odd Man Out
by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended. Tony Ashcroft is mine, but I'm not guarding him terribly jealously.
Timeline: AU. Anytime post-Dead Men Are Dangerous. Could be during season 2 or post-series. There isn't much of a need to be more specific. It's AU, and thus doesn't fit into the arc, so I'm not too hung up about it.
Author's Note: A whopper of a chapter this time around, mainly because there was one, long scene that just didn't deserve to be broken up. We're getting near the end here, but I like to think this is one of the best bits. Enjoy!
It was three in the morning by the time they returned to the stud farm. The drive was silent, Steed and Gambit in the front, Purdey and Tony in the back. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and Tony put an arm around her, but despite the contact, Tony felt as though she were miles away. When he looked in her eyes, he knew he was right.
The instant they were in the door, all three made a beeline for the living room, Gambit limping along unaided. Steed extracted a rather large bottle of Scotch whiskey from his liquor cabinet, along with three glasses. Three. Not four. This was going to be a private party. No outsiders allowed.
Purdey turned to look at Tony, while Steed and Gambit did their best to pretend they weren't paying attention, busied themselves with pouring the liquor. She smiled brittlely. "We toast a fellow agent when he dies," she explained, voice strained. "It's a sort of tradition. If you'd like to join us…"
Tony knew it was a token offering, that he was expected to turn it down, and he didn't have any intention of disappointing them. "No, thank you. Wouldn't be right. I didn't even know the man. No, I think I'll turn in."
Purdey nodded. "All right," she replied. "I'll…I'll be up in a moment."
Tony smiled. "Right," he said, even though he knew that neither of them believed it. With that, he turned and started to mount the stairs to the second floor.
***
Tony padded downstairs, trying to keep his footsteps soft so as to not disturb the quiet of the house. Just as he'd expected, Purdey hadn't come to bed the night before, and she didn't seem to be up and about this morning, either. Tony didn't know where she'd finally spent the night, but he did have one or two ideas, and none of them were very encouraging.
He found himself in the dining room, and looked on into the living room. He could just make out what appeared to be Gambit, head tipped back on to the back of the couch, legs stretched out, arm dangling listlessly over the side. As he approached, he saw that Steed was occupying the other end of the couch, his head tipped to one side, arms half-crossed. Well, they certainly hadn't gone to bed, either. He wondered if either of them knew when Purdey had.
It was only when he entered the living room that he saw her. She was tucked comfortably between her two colleagues, head resting on Gambit's shoulder as though it were the most natural thing in the world, her long legs draped over Steed's lap. One arm had come to rest, limply, on Mike's thigh, the other tucked across her mid-section. She had lost her shoes at some point, but her stockinged feet looked as though they were keeping warm nonetheless, courtesy of Steed. Gambit had lost his jacket, tie, and waistcoat, but otherwise they were dressed as Tony had left them, albeit much more rumpled. Tony didn't know if that made him feel better or not. Purdey had technically spent the night with someone else, but not in the way he would have imagined. Somehow that stung more.
He was prepared to tiptoe away and leave them to catch up on their shuteye, but it was at that moment that Purdey stirred and opened one bleary eye. She caught Tony's retreating form, and sat up with a start."
"Tony!" she exclaimed, and noticed her position between Gambit and Steed, did her best to disentangle herself. She elbowed Gambit violently in the side in the process, bringing the gently snoring man to the land of the conscious with a jolt and a wheeze.
"Purdey?" he gasped, doubling over with the pain and casting her a doleful glance. "That hurt. What the devil are you--?"
"I'm talking to Tony," Purdey cut in impatiently. "Don't look at me like that. You're perfectly all right."
"Right. Of course. Lots of people lead happy, healthy lives without their spleen," Gambit muttered, nursing his side. His body then remembered just how much alcohol he'd consumed the night before, and he put a hand to his head to keep it from splitting open. "Argh."
Steed had awoken by this point, turned to look at Gambit with bleary unconcern. "After last night," he half-slurred, "what you need is my patented National Anthem morning-after cure."
"I feel sick enough as it is," Gambit groaned, staggering upright, clutching one hand to his stomach, the other to his head. "I'll stick with coffee and a gallon of water." He trundled after Steed into the kitchen, leaving Purdey alone with Tony.
"Tony," she called after him, willing him to stop. "This wasn't what it looked like."
Tony stopped, turned to her. "No, it was," he said quietly, without malice. "It must be tough, losing a colleague like that. You needed someone to get you through it. I can understand that."
Purdey bit her lip. "You can?"
"Yes," Tony confirmed, putting his hands in his pockets with a sigh. "And I get the feeling that the three of you probably have a lot more to attend to before this whole mess is cleared up. So I'm going to go home early, if that's all right."
"Tony," Purdey said softly, going to him and touching his arm. "Don't leave angry."
"I'm not," Tony assured. "Not a bit. I promise. But I know where my place is, and it's not here. Not right now. I'm sure everything that happened last night was classified. It'd be better if I wasn't around for the rest of it."
Purdey didn't like to admit it, but he had a point. "You can take my car," she offered. "I can get Gambit or Steed to give me a lift back to town."
Tony nodded once. "Right," he murmured. "I'll just go upstairs and pack, then." He turned and started to mount the stairs. Purdey sighed, passed a hand over her brow anxiously, and bit her lip. Steed remerged from the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand, looking none the worse for wear for the previous night's ordeal.
"How's Tony?" he inquired.
"He's going home," Purdey said sadly.
"I see," Steed murmured, and, sensing a need, put an arm around her for the second time in 24 hours. "I'm sure he thought it was best."
"It was," Purdey said quietly, eyes on the staircase. "That's the worst part."
***
Mike Gambit's door opened and released a flurry of cooking odours.
"Purdey!" Gambit said in surprise. His sleeves were rolled up past the elbows, and the majority of his front was concealed by an apron. He passed a hand over his brow, which was damp with perspiration. "What are you doing here?"
Purdey ignored the comment and poked her head in the door. "Mike Gambit, are you cooking?"
"You don't need to sound so surprised about it," Gambit grumbled, hurrying back to the kitchen to stir something. "I can cook, you know. I've just learned all the best ways to avoid it. And if there's someone willing to oblige." He glanced meaningfully at her, and Purdey rolled her eyes expansively.
"I'll bear that in mind next time you come scrounging for a sandwich," she said wryly. "Anyway, what's the occasion? Did the pub burn down? Did Tesco run out of cornflakes?"
Gambit made a face that communicated, quite clearly, that he did not find her in the least bit funny. "I'll have you know," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, "that I'm making this for a girl."
Purdey raise an eyebrow. "Just any girl, or did you have a specific one in mind?"
Gambit went back to stirring. "Remember Penny?"
"The redhead? Gambit, I'm surprised. Don't tell me you're actually getting serious about her?"
"Maybe," Gambit said coyly, tasting his concoction. Purdey regarded him with sceptically, and he sighed. "All right, we made a wager. She doesn't believe in my culinary skills."
"You mean she doesn't believe you have any to begin with," Purdey countered knowingly. "I'd call it off if I were you. The horses haven't been kind of late."
Gambit scowled at her. "You've never even tasted my cooking!"
"And I want to live to be forty, so it'll stay that way," Purdey replied, no longer in the mood for games. "Stop stirring for a moment. I need your advice."
Gambit obeyed, more out of surprise than anything. "You want my advice?" he repeated.
"Yes. Don't look like that. I ask you about things all the time."
"Not like this you don't," Gambit countered. "You see me at work everyday and you ask me then. But you came over special." He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. "What's going on, Purdey-girl?"
Purdey bit her lip and sighed. "It's about Tony," she told him.
"Ah," Gambit replied, averting his eyes slightly. "What about him?"
Purdey fiddled with a piece of hair. "We had a bit of a row today."
Gambit immediately shot to attention, eyes narrowing. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, of course not!" Purdey snapped back, shocked. "Tony would never…no more than you would. No, it was a war of words."
The tension left Gambit's shoulders, and he crossed his arms and let them rest on the countertop. "What about?"
"Oh, loads of things. The weekend. Seeing us on-duty. Me leaving all the time."
"So?"
"So he feels neglected. He feels as though I put the job ahead of him. And the people in the job, too."
Gambit sighed. "He's jealous of me and Steed."
"Jealous is a bit strong," Purdey said, defensively. "He just feels…left out. I told him he was being ridiculous. Lots of people have jobs that demand strange hours and a lot of time, and they make things work."
"But we're not most people, Purdey," Gambit said gently. "We're agents. When other people go home at the end of the day, they can tell their spouses and lovers and families all about what happened during the day, and complain about the boss. We can't do that. We signed the Official Secrets Act. Everything we do is classified. Even a tiny little insignificant detail can turn into a whole bloody ordeal if someone from the other side exploits it." He shook his head tiredly. "It doesn't work, Purdey. There's a reason almost everyone in our business is single and childless. How can you have a proper relationship with anyone when you have to keep half your life locked up all the time?"
Purdey bit her lip. "But you do it," she pointed out. "Penny, you met her while we were investigating Crayford. She must know what you do."
Gambit shrugged. "She knows I have some pretty important credentials that give me the authority to ask a lot of questions, and that I carry a gun and pick up more cuts and bruises than a professional cliff diver. She probably has her suspicions. But she's never come right out and said 'spy,' and I'm never going to, either. If she ever asks me about what I do, I make a joke and steer things back to something about mid-terms." He smiled, but it was sad. "One of these days the appeal of patching up even my athlete's body without being able to ask how I got the war wounds is going to wane. And she'll make some comment about needing some time, or how she's not getting any younger and she needs something serious, and we'll end it or drift out of touch." He picked up a piece of sliced carrot and popped it into his mouth. "And that'll be that."
Purdey stared at him. She'd never really considered how Gambit's love affairs ended. She always sort of assumed that he left them wanting more. She never expected that he'd let them walk away of their own volition. "I never thought of it quite that way," she murmured.
"I knew what I was getting into," Gambit replied. "And you have to, to have any kind of love life in this business. Why do you think there are so many romances within the department? At the very least you can talk about your assignments in broad strokes. I mean, we always have to worry if they've sold out to the other side, but a file clerk who probably has access to more documents than you do is all signed and cleared, and you can brag about your battle scars without getting a knife in the back or a demotion. But it's really the partners that save you."
Purdey's eyes rose to meet his, bright and intense. "What?"
"Come on, Purdey. Of all the people in the world, who do you talk to when you need a friendly ear? Look where you are now. You came to me for help. If I wasn't around, or you felt like you couldn't say what you wanted to me, you'd go to Steed. And I'd do the same. You, me, and Steed, we're the only three that really have the full story. We know all about the job, most of the highlights of each other's pasts." He grinned evilly. "Face it, Purdey. We're in a threeway marriage without the sex."
Purdey blanched. "I beg your pardon?"
"Mind you, I'm still interested in the sex bit. With you, I mean. Steed's nice and everything, but I don't think we could make a go of it." The evil grin broadened.
"Gambit, I—"
"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never thought it?" Gambit shook his head. "I had one girlfriend who broke things off because, and I quote, I spent too much time 'hanging about with my work wife,' and she'd never signed up for bigamy."
Purdey burst out laughing in spite of herself. "She didn't!"
"Oh, yes. You've made for many an interesting conversation, I can tell you."
Purdey stifled her giggles with one hand. "Not really?"
Gambit snorted. "How do you think it looks when you leave in the middle of dinner because a woman with a posh accent called you up?"
"Oh dear," Purdey murmured, not sounding in the least bit repentant. "Don't tell me they've all gotten the wrong idea?"
"Sometimes that's exactly what I try to give them," Gambit admitted. "I tell them you're a motorbike riding liberated sort with short hair, and they get quite the wrong idea."
Purdey's mouth dropped open, half in mirth, half in outrage. "You don't!"
"I do. One offered to set you up with her mate, Joan. I was half-inclined to let her."
"I'll bet you were. You would never have lived to see how it turned out."
"That's not the worst of it. One them heard me say 'Purdey' and immediately thought I meant a bloke because I didn't add a 'Miss.' I'm a little ashamed to say I ran with it and saw how long I could keep it going. It took her three weeks to figure out she'd gotten it wrong."
"Mike Gambit, you are an evil man!"
"I know," Gambit said unrepentantly. "But who knows? You and Joan may have gone down a treat."
"I'll give you a reason to go down," Purdey countered, picking a piece of carrot up off the chopping board and hurling it at Gambit's head. Alas, his reflexes were too finely honed, and he ducked down beneath the counter. "There's no use hiding," Purdey yelled after him. "You can't stay down there forever."
"I can. I've got the cooking sherry."
"You'll need it when I'm finished with you." Purdey snagged a tomato and tossed it in the air experimentally. "Come out and die like a man."
"Only if you do first!" came the smart reply.
"That does it." Purdey hiked herself up onto the countertop, swung herself around, and pounced on the unsuspecting man below. Gambit let out a yelp of surprise as the blonde dropped on him from above. She knocked him sideways onto the floor, sending the cooking sherry spraying across the tiles as the bottle rolled off toward the living room. "I hear tomato does wonders for the hair," Purdey's voice sang, before a damp squelch followed by another yelp echoed around the room. "That's for all the lovely advice you've given me about how to hold off jealous suitors. I'm telling Tony that you and Steed are running off to the Bahamas together."
"Well, at least we wouldn't have to keep each other warm," came Gambit's strangled reply. There were the sounds of a brief struggle, and two pairs of feet, both scrambling for purchase, emerged from behind the counter. Eventually, a pair of boots triumphed, the tips of the toes hitting the floor, soles pointing at the wall, while the pair of high heels sprawled untidily below them.
"You're getting better," Gambit panted from his position above Purdey, hands pinning her wrists, legs trying to tame her own. "I told you you'd be brilliant at karate."
"Next lesson, I want you to teach me the counter-move for what you just did," Purdey grunted, struggling against Gambit's grip, but finding herself well and truly stuck. "We were interrupted last time."
"I'm not sure I should. I need to be able to defend myself, too," Gambit said with a wink, but he let Purdey up and sat back on his haunches anyway. She got herself into a kneeling position and regarded him blithely.
"Now really," she murmured, "what should I do about Tony? I like him, I do. It's so nice to have someone normal, from outside the Ministry. But at the same time it makes things hard."
Gambit shrugged. "Relationships are. At least, serious ones are."
"It never was with you," Purdey pointed out. "Or Steed."
Gambit smirked. "And how serious are we?"
"Serious enough," Purdey said with a smile. "We haven't killed each other yet, have we?"
"I'm sure it's only a matter of time," Gambit said wryly. "Look what happened just now."
Purdey rolled her eyes expansively. "Oh, your ego really is terribly fragile, isn't it? Just because I got the drop on you. I suppose you want me to kiss something better now?" She leaned in and felt herself drawn to Gambit's face. He was clearly about to say something smart, but when he saw the expression on her face, he stopped.
"Purdey…?"
She wasn't listening. All she could do was look at him. It was as though she'd noticed for the first time just how attractive he was to her, and how much he could offer. "Kiss me," she whispered.
"What?"
"You heard me." She was leaning in, hands seeking out his shoulders. He was so familiar, so comforting. She didn't have to explain anything to him. Not like Tony. But before she could reach him, his own hands came up and took her wrists, pushing her ever-so-slightly away.
"I may not be a saint," he murmured, his lips brushing her own as he spoke. "But believe it or not, I don't muck about with other blokes' women, and I don't fool around with more than one girl at a time."
Purdey was breathing hard, unsure of exactly what she was doing, but feeling disappointed nonetheless. "So you're not interested?"
Gambit laughed, and his breath was soft against her neck. "I'm very interested, but I know what's going on here. You're upset about Tony, and you want something safe and familiar. Try it when we're both unattached, and you'll get a much different response. But you came to me for advice, and that's all you're going to get." He pushed her gently away, and Purdey felt herself blush with embarrassment.
"Mike…"
"Look, I understand what you're getting at, I really do. You want a little normality, something away from the job. But the whole point of the job is that it's not normal, and we're not normal for wanting to do it. And it's not fair for the normal person in the relationship to have to deal with that."
Purdey felt herself begin to tremble. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you have to choose. If you really love this job, then you have to be willing to give up the idyllic home life, because it's just not going to fit, and if you can't do that, you have to tell Tony, so that neither of you are going in with the wrong expectations. But if…" Gambit paused, and took a deep breath. "If you love him, really love him, then you should say 'hang it all,' and be with him."
Purdey's eyes widened. "What about you and Steed?"
"What about us?" Gambit asked hoarsely, clearly not wanting to dwell on the implications.
Purdey frowned. "Do you want to see me go?"
"Of course I don't, Purdey-girl. But it's not about me. If you stay where you're unhappy, then that's not going to be any good for any of us. What sort of friend would I be if I didn't want you to be happy?" He smiled sadly. "With whoever it is that makes you that way."
"Mike…"
He shook his head. "You have to choose, Purdey. You're never going to be happy if you don't, and neither is Tony. Not if he can't be part of your life. All of it."
Purdey searched his face. "You're serious, aren't you?" she said quietly. "You actually think the job's worth giving up?"
"For the right person, yes," Gambit confirmed. "You can find loads of other jobs. But there are people who are worth giving everything else up for." His eyes held hers meaningfully, and Purdey felt her heart skip a beat. "Do what you have to do, Purdey-girl. Life's too short for you to do any different."
Purdey nodded, slowly. "All right," she murmured. "But answer me one thing."
"Yes?"
"You said people like us can't have a proper home life because the other person can't know what we're up to at work. Well, what if the other person was in the business, too? You wouldn't necessarily have to give up the job, then, would you?"
Gambit worked his jaw carefully. "No," he murmured, not willing to fall for the bait, but unable to totally discourage her, either. "I guess not. But that's another debate for another time. What you have to decide is whether you really want normality, or you just like the idea and want to try it on for a bit. Because one of those isn't fair to Tony. Or you."
"I understand," Purdey said quietly. "Thank you. There's just one more thing."
Gambit nodded. "What's that?"
"This." Purdey gave him an unceremonious shove and moved in quickly for the kill, pinning Gambit to the floor in much the same way he had her only a few moments earlier. "Aha!" she said triumphantly, as Gambit struggled to right himself. "I do know how to get the upper hand after all."
"Right. Distraction. Very good," Gambit muttered from the tile. "You've proved your point. Now let me up."
"Oh, no, there are too many things I'd like to do to you while you're in this position," Purdey said with an evil smile. "Now then, where did that cooking sherry go…?"
When John Steed entered five minutes later, he was surprised to find Purdey and Gambit locked in a clinch which seemed to be centred on a bottle of cooking sherry. Purdey had managed to restrain Gambit with one hand, while the other attempted to pour the contents onto the latter's head, while Gambit had a grip on both wrists and was trying to turn the tide in his favour. His gaze slipped just long enough to notice the pair of Chelsea boots in the doorway.
"Steed!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that one," Purdey countered, trying to press home her advantage at his distraction.
"I only came to drop off this report," Steed announced. "I would have phoned ahead if I'd known I was going to be interrupting something."
The bottle slipped from Purdey's grasp and was saved from the floor by Gambit's quick reflexes. "Steed!" she squeaked. "Uh, I was just here to ask Gambit's advice."
"On what? Interrogation techniques?" the senior agent queried.
"Her love life," Gambit muttered, flopping back on the floor exhausted. "And she's ruining mine. I'm trying to cook Penny dinner."
"Tony thinks there's something going on between either you and me, or Gambit and me," Purdey explained, as she climbed off Gambit.
"I can't imagine why," Steed said blithely as he watched the pair disentangle themselves and slowly climb to their feet. He pointed at Gambit's head with his brolly. "What's that in your hair?"
Gambit touched his hair and cringed. "Ugh! Purdey, it's gone down the back of my shirt." His eyes settled on the pot on the stove. "My bisque!" he cried. He hurried over and snatched up a wooden spoon, dipped it into the liquid and tasted, sighed with relief. "I think it's all right. Here, I need a second opinion."
Steed obliged, smacked his lips once in approval. "Gambit, I'm surprised. You have hidden depths. I had an auntie who used to make that exact same recipe, only she'd include a nip of brandy…"
Gambit ignored Steed's familial musings. He turned to Purdey. "Well, come on, come on. Steed's still alive, so it must be safe."
Purdey sighed and gave the spoon a tentative lick. A look of pleasant surprise crossed her face. "Hey, that's not bad," she complimented. "Maybe she won't leave you after all."
"Ha ha."
"But you know, there is one thing that would make it better."
"I'm not adding marshmallows," Gambit cut off knowingly.
"Well, they would sweeten it," Purdey muttered.
"Look, don't you have to go talk to Tony?" Gambit reminded, taking her by the shoulder and starting to steer both her and Steed toward the door. "Because I have a dinner to get ready. And a tomato to wash out of my hair."
Purdey snorted with laughter. "Red really is your colour, Mike."
"Next time you want advice, go to Steed," Gambit grumbled, looking to the senior agent. "She can squeeze orange juice into your bowler."
"How delightful," Steed quipped, returning the hat to his head with unseemly speed. "Sorry to impose, Mike."
"Not a problem. Happy to see you both. Now bugger off." Gambit opened the door and unceremoniously booted them onto the step. "Oh, and don't forget what I said, eh?" he added to Purdey, before slamming the door behind him. Steed looked at Purdey, who had suddenly gone very sober in thought.
"Do you need another friendly ear?" he asked the girl.
Purdey looked up, shook her head slowly. "No, Steed, thank you. I think I know what I have to do, sadly." She cast a backward glance at Gambit's door. "I got some good advice from the trenches."
