Two Hours
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.
Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!
Author's Note: Brief, but it kills the cliffhanger from last time around. There will be two updates today. Look out for the other one.
Gambit's scream was silent, which somehow made it worse, but at the very least it pushed some of the blood out of his lung, and soon Purdey and Steed were able to set about affixing the condom to his side. After a little while he was breathing more evenly, and he wasn't flopping about in the way that reminded Purdey uncomfortably of a land-bound fish. All the same, the blood the little adventure had left on the floor was more than enough to disconcert her, particularly the neat dotted line of crimson that had spread across her bodice with the puncture. Nevertheless, she leaned over him, rested an ear against his chest to reassure herself that his heart was still beating, that he was still breathing. Beside her, Steed lay slumped on ground, massaging his aching, broken limb that was only now reasserting itself as the adrenaline ebbed away. After a moment, Gambit's right hand twitched to life, rested itself first on Steed's arm, then transferred its attentions to Purdey's shoulder.
"Thanks…" he wheezed, so quietly that both Purdey and Steed weren't entirely certain they'd heard it.
"All in the line of duty," Steed replied, and caught a ghost of a smile on Gambit's pale lips. He started the arduous process of dragging himself back over to his corner to resume work on the radio. Purdey was still bent over Gambit, though she'd turned her face away. Steed suspected she was crying, but knew she would be loathe to admit it to either of them. He wasn't willing to disturb her when he was perfectly capable of moving a few feet on his own. Heaven knew he'd gone farther in worse shape than he was now, though he wouldn't have said 'no' to a nip of brandy. He thought Purdey could probably use one, too.
"When we're home," he promised himself, and settled in to work on the radio again.