Life on Mars

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

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, John Steed, and Larry Doomer. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended

Timeline: Seventh in a series. Takes place in July, 1977, immediately after the events of the episode "Obsession." It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Lost Boys, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, and Brazil.

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

Author's Note: Finally, some answers. But unfortunately, some of them don't quite match up with what Purdey was expecting. Longer chapter this time around. I don't think there will be too many more in this fic. 'Til next time!

"Has she said anything? Moved?"

"Not yet," came the tired voice. "Not a damn thing."

Purdey's eyes flickered, and she had a brief glimpse of Steed and Gambit—the right Steed and Gambit—by a wall, a short distance from her…bed? They looked her way and reacted, eyes wide with surprise.

"Purdey?" Gambit said tentatively, hopefully. "Purdey, can you hear me?" He started making his way toward her, with Steed in tow.

"Purdey, you've been unconscious," Steed was saying, but he sounded farther away, not closer. Purdey's eyes slid closed, and the voices blurred and mixed, then returned, stronger than ever…

"…been out for a good twenty minutes. How strong was that stuff?"

"Not very. Mild dose. Some process it more quickly than others. But it won't be long before she wakes up. I made certain of that. We can't afford the time."

Purdey groaned quietly, and turned over, but quickly realized she had run out of bed. No, more like cot, she mentally corrected as she caught herself just before going over the edge. She squinted through a curtain of hair at the two figures in the distance, currently locked in a staring contest.

"You shouldn't have drugged her to begin with. It wasn't necessary. She would've come here on her own. She offered as much," the first figure--Gambit, she realized--was saying.

"I couldn't be sure. She may have resisted, caused all sorts of problems," Steed replied.

Gambit shook his head in disbelief. "She can't be involved. She came to me."

"Exactly. She came to you, likely with the intention of confirming your position on the ship. You told her you had an appointment for this afternoon. She probably thought she'd be able to tease more information out of you if she had you follow her around. All she had to do was ring Doomer while she was in the dressing room, have him come up to the flat, and put on a little show for your benefit." Steed's brow furrowed in bemusement. "He's her husband. I don't see why it's such a reach for you."

"Because," Gambit exclaimed, frustrated. "It just doesn't feel right. Call it instinct."

"Instinct can fail you," Steed said grimly.

"Just because what's-her-name died because of your foul-up doesn't mean you should discount Purdey!" Gambit retorted. Purdey slid carefully off the bed, shaking her head to clear it. Gambit and Steed were separated from her by a set of bars—a cell. They had locked her in a cell. So much for trusting them. Clearly she'd have to rely on her own resourcefulness to get out and stop Larry. She stood and made her way quietly to the doors.

"Tara," Steed barked. "Her name was Tara. Tara King. And I'd appreciate if you didn't bandy her name about callously."

"I'm not here for Tara, I'm here for Purdey!"

Purdey was at the door by this point, and close enough to take a good look at Steed and Gambit's faces. They were tense, and the way they stood made it look as though they would come to blows at any minute. She'd sensed the same sort of tension between them when she'd first joined the pair of them on an assignment, but even in those early days it hadn't been anything like this. She was glad for the distraction, though. They were too preoccupied to notice her hand delve through the bars and feel the lock. She traced it with a finger. She smiled. They'd have to do better than that if they wanted to keep her locked up. Simple. Perfect. She reached up and pulled a hair pin out of the do she had thrown together that morning. At least the long hair was good for something. A good chunk of it fell loose on one side, making her head lopsided and untidy. She brushed it from her eyes and started to work on the lock.

"You're forgetting yourself, Commander," Steed said calmly, but with that edge of menace that Purdey knew was a sign Gambit was treading on dangerous ground. She almost missed the quiet click of the lock, she was so wrapped up in watching the stand-off. Master and pupil. Steed got the better of me. The voice echoed in her mind. And the vision of Gambit, looking sheepish as he said those words, explaining to her how Steed had incapacitated him when he'd confronted the senior agent and accused him of treachery. Steed had only been trying to extract Purdey from a hostage situation, but there was no way for Gambit to know that. But Gambit had come through in the end, rescued them both, even if he had taken a beating, "to earn back his confidence," as Steed had put it. Purdey shook away the confusing memories, and took a deep breath. There was a gun, along with other effects, including her journal, on a table in the centre of the room beyond the cell. She'd have to be quick to reach it before Steed or Gambit did.

She took a deep breath and charged, throwing open the door of the cell with a screech and a clang, a sudden burst of energy propelling her movements. Gambit and Steed wheeled at the sound, but she was already making for the table, diving across it for the gun, then rolling off so the furniture separated them. She pointed the gun their way. They froze, unsure of what to do.

"Don't move," she ordered, eyes darting from one face to the other. "I remember being quite fond of the two of you. I remember so much. I know you don't believe that, but it's the truth. So I'd rather not have to shoot you. But I will, if you push me."

"Mrs. Doomer," Steed said soothingly, "this isn't going to do your husband much good. Or yourself, for that matter. We were getting along so well. Why jeopardise that?"

"Jeopardise what? You think I'm guilty," Purdey pointed out, not bothering to correct the name. "But you're right--we were doing quite well until you decided to put me to sleep."

"I had nothing to do with that. And I don't think you're guilty," Gambit broke in, hands open and placating, urging her to be reasonable.

"I know," Purdey murmured, eyes darting his way and meeting his gaze. "I heard. Thank you."

Steed looked from one to the other in disgust. "Mrs. Doomer, I'd advise you not to do anything rash."

"I'm not," Purdey retorted. "Someone has to save the Emir, and since you seem hellbent on pinning everything on me, I'll have to do it myself."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but aren't you a dancer? Isn't espionage a little outside of your repertoire?" Steed snapped, patience running thin.

"It runs in the family," Purdey quipped. "But you can't have it both ways—either I'm the mad woman with the delusions of grandeur, or the calculating spy working in league with my husband. I can't be both."

Steed seemed to consider that. Purdey decided to press home that advantage.

"Look, I know Larry's planning something—an assassination attempt—but not because I was working with him. I've been investigating this at the same time as you. And I plan on stopping him this time around, with or without your help. But I'll admit things will go much smoother if we're all on the same side."

" 'This time'? He's tried this before?" Steed wanted to know.

Purdey frowned. "I…don't know. Not in this reality, anyway. I've no idea if he went off the rails and I stopped him once already. That's what I remember. But I wouldn't be surprised." She jerked the gun at the book on the table. "Look, most of the clues are in there, I'm certain of it. Have you read it?"

"I've skimmed," Steed admitted. "I was hoping you might be able to elaborate.

"Not at the moment I can't," Purdey said wryly. "Certainly not while I'm trying to keep a gun on you. But I think I may know some place we can go to find out more."

"Yes?"

"Larry's house. My house, I suppose. There are things in that journal...I saw some files on his desk that matched what it said. If we went there, saw what he had, we'd probably have a much better chance of piecing things together. After all, all those journal entries must have come from snooping in those files. I say we go and read them for ourselves."

Steed arched an eyebrow. "All of us?"

"Yes," Purdey said carefully. "I'd rather not have you as an enemy, Steed. I want the team back."

"Does that include me?" Gambit wanted to know, eyes glittering merrily.

Purdey grinned. "If you don't mind."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Gambit was looking more animated all the time.

"How do I know I can trust you, Mrs. Doomer?" Steed asked carefully.

"You don't," Purdey admitted, "but I'm willing to make the first gesture of goodwill." She raised the gun, put the safety on, and set it gently on the table, moved her hands away and showed them her empty palms. "Okay?"

Steed looked to Gambit, sighed at the younger man's pleading expression. "All right," he said reluctantly. "We'll take my car."

***

Purdey opened the front door of the dream house cautiously, peering through the crack, ears open, Steed and Gambit close behind her. She surveyed the front hall, searching for any sign that Larry was here, possibly armed, capable of anything. But there was no sign of anyone. Purdey sighed with relief and opened the door the rest of the way. "He's not here," she told her colleagues. She gestured down the hall. "The office is this way."

"And I don't suppose you waited until he went into hiding before opening the door?" Steed asked suspiciously. "You did linger rather a long time."

"I was looking for him!" Purdey countered.

"And did you see him?"

"No," Purdey snapped, fists clenched. "Look, I am not going to spend all my time justifying myself to you. If you don't believe me, feel free to search the house. I'm going to the office."

"And how do I know you won't destroy them?"

"I'll take Gambit," Purdey told him. She jerked her head down the hall. "Come on, Commander. Let Steed do his search. Perhaps we'll know what's going on by the time you join us."

She turned her back on him and headed down the corridor. Gambit glanced over his shoulder at Steed, shrugged, and followed her.

Purdey was already rifling through Larry's desk when Gambit entered. The files weren't on the desktop, so she started going through the drawers. She ended up back at the locked drawer, tugging it in frustration. Gambit met her eyes as she raised them. His mouth quirked up on one side. He nodded at her updo. "I wouldn't mind actually seeing you work your magic with a lock. I was a bit distracted last time."

"Well, I can't refuse a request," Purdey said with a smile, reaching up and removing a hair pin. "Here goes."

It wasn't a very difficult lock. Purdey worked at it expertly and quickly. She grinned when it clicked, looked up at Gambit in triumph. "Ta-dah!"

Gambit clapped appreciatively. "Beautiful."

Purdey opened the door and reached into the drawer. Sure enough, there were the files. She extracted the folders and set them on the desk. She fanned them out on the surface so Gambit could see. She heard him gasp.

"What?" she wanted to know, glancing from Gambit's face, then down to the files, and back again. "Do you recognise them?"

Gambit swallowed hard. "They're--"

"--Naval files," Steed broke in, standing in the doorway. "Naval Intelligence files."

Purdey looked from Steed to Gambit. "Is that right?'

Gambit looked anxiously at Steed, working his jaw. To his surprise, Steed nodded, giving him his consent to take the girl into confidence. "Yeah," he confirmed. "They're Naval Intelligence. And I think I know what's in them."

Purdey looked down at the files. "You do?"

"Yes," Gambit said with a tremulous sigh. He turned the top file around to face him with his index finger, then flipped it open. His eyes skimmed over the page, and his breathing sped up. "Oh, no."

Purdey turned the file to face her. The first page bore a familiar name—Valiant. HMS Valiant.

"Valiant," she breathed, looking up at Gambit. "That was written in the journal. My journal. Valiant. It's a ship!"

"Oh, yes, it's a ship all right," Gambit said grimly. "The ship where your Emir's going to be at three pm this afternoon."

"The Emir?" Purdey gasped. "A ship? He's on a ship? I don't remember anything about him being on a ship."

Gambit frowned. "What?"

"The Emir. He was at the Houses of Parliament, not on a ship." Purdey looked from Gambit to Steed. "You're sure?"

"I should be. I'm in charge of the security," Gambit said flatly. "He's here for an Anglo-Arabian summit. We thought about doing it in a government building, but it seemed too risky. A ship we can take out into the water, isolate, guard. There's going to be intelligence shared as well. That's where Steed comes in." Gambit nodded at the files. "Clearly Larry's been reading up on it. I don't know how he found out about it, though. We've been very, very careful."

"My father's in the business. Larry's pretty high up in the Air Force. I'm sure he could find a way," Purdey said quietly. She flicked through the file. "He has everything. All the specs for the ship, the schedule for the summit..."

"And the personnel," Gambit said grimly, as Steed moved to look over his shoulder. He pointed to a pair of files, the two Purdey had seen before. "He knows."

"Knows what?" Purdey wanted to know. "What on earth is in--?" She flipped the first file open, the one she had seen before, and saw instantly what he meant. The first item inside was a photo of Gambit. Purdey looked up at him in surprise, and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully. She looked back down at the file, rifled through the rest of it. The whole file was about Gambit—his biography, his naval records, photos, his whole life, laid out for all to see. Purdey flicked the file closed, looked at the label once more, the one she had thought seemed so familiar. MAG. She closed her eyes, felt her head start to ache. MAG. How could she have been so blind?

"MAG," she said under her breath, and Gambit glanced up in bemusement. "Michael Alan Gambit. How could I have been so blind? That was your father's name, wasn't it?"

Gambit looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Do I really have to tell you?" Purdey asked tiredly. "And this one will be Steed's, I suppose?" She found JWGBS and flipped it open to find Steed's grey eyes staring back at her. "Quel supris. What else do we have?"

"He has a very detailed background on the Emir." Steed was flicking through another file. "And his politics. Doomer must have some very good connections. Only a handful of people know the intel he's using, two of which are Gambit and myself, and I know it's not me..." He looked meaningfully at Gambit.

"I haven't said a word," Gambit muttered through clenched teeth. "Not to her. Not to anyone."

"Is Dyce in on the Emir's visit?" Purdey asked, and Steed's eyes narrowed. "I heard you on the phone, remember. That's all. You wanted to connect him to me, so I assume he must be relevant."

"Look, there's not much point in keeping closed-mouthed about it now, is there?" Gambit snapped. "Doomer's clearly got all the information right here. What do we have to lose by telling her?"

Steed looked from one to the other, sighed. "I don't want her out of my sight," he warned.

"I'm not going anywhere," Purdey promised. "Please. Tell me what's going on, and I may be able to tell you what he's planning."

"Right. The Emir's ship—the Valiant--is docking at 2 this afternoon," Gambit informed. "That's where they're holding the summit. Lots of security, Naval included. I'm heading it—Steed and I have been meeting on it at the stud farm—that abandoned house you took us to--for the better part of a month now." Steed glared at this breach of confidentiality, but Gambit ignored him.

"At the country house," Purdey murmured. "That's why you were so suspicious," she said to Steed. "You thought I'd been listening in on your meetings."

Gambit nodded. "The chap that was in charge before me met with a nasty accident. Steed's kept my identity under wraps because of it. The boys I'm meant to be in charge of know how to ID me, but not who I am."

Purdey blanched. "How? How are they going to know you?"

Gambit blinked, looked to Steed, who still didn't look too happy with the situation, and decided to risk it. "There's a special pass. It's locked up in my flat, in a safe. In the living room."

Purdey groaned. "That's what Larry came for—did you check on it this morning?"

"Not much time," Gambit replied, shrugging. "Busy morning."

Purdey sighed. "Never mind. It'll be gone. That's the reason Larry came—he had no idea I was there. Ironically, he probably thinks I'm working for you."

Gambit and Steed paled, exchanged worried glances. "Doomer's going to go in as me, isn't he?" Gambit groaned.

Purdey nodded. "He's planned this. You say my name came up on the sign-in when the other man—Dyce—was hurt. Now I didn't do that, but Larry could have easily forged it. Again, he does know my father. Who knows how much he's picked up from him?" She swallowed. "He could have used him to learn about Department procedure.

"He could have used Dyce, too," Gambit said ruefully. "He was the chap who was head of security before me, and even before he had an accident, we heard whispers something was dodgy about him. Then he ended up hurt, and we thought maybe we'd got it wrong. And we changed the security procedures, but he'd still have an in. Maybe he and Doomer planned on the accident. Maybe Doomer paid him off for intel and getting out of the way."

Purdey widened her eyes. "He was counting on Steed making the next head of security anonymous. And if Dyce is untrustworthy, he could've figured out who Gambit was easily." She shook her head sadly. "I think I was on the verge of piecing things together before the accident. I found these files on your desk, and Larry tells me I've been snooping around in here." She felt the pieces falling into place. "And now he's on that boat, and no one there knows Mike Gambit from Adam."

Gambit looked to Steed in panic "We have to call in! The Emir's due in an hour."

Steed shook his head. "He'd go to ground the instant we sounded the alarm. If he's as read up on procedure as Mrs. Doomer says he is, he'll know what to look for."

"Either that or take out half the boat along with the Emir," Purdey said darkly. "You don't know what he's capable of. Last time...I remember a missile. And my journal, I wrote 'bang.' What else could he mean to do?"

"A bomb?" Steed suggested. He'd found a piece of paper taped inside the desk above where the drawer was, and he showed it to them. It was a schematic for an explosive device. "Small, but that doesn't mean anything. Probably accessed through military channels. He's quite resourceful, your husband."

"He's not my husband," Purdey snapped. "Not now. Not ever."

Gambit was breathing hard, panic surging through his veins. "He's going to blow up the ship. He'll go in as me and blow up the ship, and if we call in, he might do it whether the Emir is onboard or not. Right?"

"Right," Purdey confirmed. "He thinks the Emir is responsible for his father's death. He'll stop at nothing to get revenge."

"Then we'll have to be just as determined," Steed said firmly. "If this diagram is correct, Doomer's going to plant it in the engine room. He won't do anything until he's certain the Emir's arrived. We still have time. Come on, Commander."

"I'd like to come along, if you don't mind," she told Steed.

Steed frowned. "I'm not certain I need another person to look after."

Gambit grinned. "I'll be happy to take the job," he volunteered. "Besides, Purdey knows the enemy. We can't afford to not bring her along."

Steed sighed in defeat. "I hope for you sake that you know how to use a gun."

Purdey gave him a cocky grin. "I am called 'Purdey.'" She moved to follow Steed and Gambit out of the office, when she noticed a black and white 8x10 poking out of Gambit's file. She moved to tuck it back in automatically, but something about it made her pause. She tugged the photo out, slowly, revealing first a pair of shoulders, then a mouth, then a familiar jaw. Big eyes. Purdey felt her heart stop.

The woman in the photo was her. The real her. Late twenties. She was wearing Purdey's customary gold stud earrings, which she'd only noticed that morning had been replaced in this reality with sapphire ones. And she was clad in her pink blouse, the one she'd worn to the target range, the one with the word "Sport" on the back. But most important was the hair. It was cut into a sleek mushroom bob, fringe into the eyes, longer near the back. Purdey ran a hand absently through her current long pin-up. That hair, that was right. That was her. She hadn't imagined it.

Gambit had doubled back, was staring at her from the doorway. "Purdey? What's wrong?" He could tell from her expression that there was something important about the picture, went around so he could look over her shoulder.

Purdey swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. "It's me," she croaked.

Gambit was silent. Purdey thought he didn't understand.

"Me. That's me!" Purdey was getting excited now, jabbing a finger frantically at the photograph. "That's who I am! That's how I look! That's the right me! The real me. I remember looking like that, and here I am. This is proof I'm not mad."

Gambit's face was pale, eyes flicking from her to the picture and back again nervously. Purdey noticed and frowned. "What is it? You should be happy for me. This is the first real concrete proof I've had that I haven't imagined everything."

Gambit took a shaky breath. "Purdey, I hate to tell you this, but that's not you. It can't be."

Purdey's brow furrowed, and she smiled uncertainly. "What do you mean? Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

Gambit bit his lip. "It's Carrie," he said quietly.

Purdey shook her head. "No. No, you showed me Carrie. She had long hair, down past her shoulders. That's a bob. That's mine."

"She had it cut just before she died," Gambit cut in, and Purdey froze mid-sentence. He continued, a little more quietly. "Only a week or so before. That was the only picture I took of her with that style. I don't like to look at it because it reminds me of…of losing her. Doomer probably found the most recent one he could to fill out the file. But that was Carrie, I promise you."

Purdey gaped at him. "But the earrings..." she murmured, feeling the world tip beneath her.

"I bought her those," Gambit said quietly. "Purdey, that's not you."

"It is," Purdey countered.

"It isn't."

"I'm telling you it is!"

"Purdey, no!" Gambit yelled, and Purdey started in surprise at the outburst. He stepped in close, caught her by the upper arms. "Look, I know you're confused and under a lot of pressure, and I understand that. I really do. But you can't do this. You can't just absorb Carrie's identity. You can't!" His eyes bore into hers, imploring her to understand. "She was the love of my life, and I lost her, and all I have now are the memories and the pictures. You can't come in and take those away from me. You can't! It's not fair." There were tears now, pouring out of his eyes, but he stumbled onward in spite of them. "Carrie was a real person, and you—you've stolen her. You've absorbed her and made her your own. And you can't do that because when I look at you, I want to believe it, too. She's not you and you're not her. Stop pretending you are. It's torture, Purdey. Please, stop."

Tears were streaming down her face. Purdey shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, it can't be true. It can't. No, I don't believe that. I can't believe that." She shook off his arms and turned on her heel, stalked out, out of the office, out into the drawing room with the two bay windows, and the loveseat in the middle. Out into her dream world. "No, no, that's not right," she muttered to herself. "It can't be right. I remember. I remember too much. How can I remember everything—how can that be?" She found herself in the living room, looking at those damn bay windows. "Stop it now! I know this is wrong! It's all wrong. Tell me what you want! Send me home! Send me back, whoever you are! You're wasting your time!" Tears blurred her vision, and she suddenly felt weak, helpless, and her legs gave way beneath her as she sank to the floor. "Please…get me out," she whispered, then felt another burst of anger wash over her. "You've made your point! Now get me out! Get me out of here! Now!" She felt the world spin. "Now! Now! NOW!"

"Purdey!" Gambit was there, on his knees beside her, a hand over her shoulders. "Purdey!"

"No, no, make it stop!" Purdey sobbed. "I want to go home. I want to go back. I'm Purdey. I work for the Ministry. I live just round the street from you. I never married Larry. I didn't."

"Purdey." Gambit pulled her into a tight embrace, stroked her hair. "Purdey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It wasn't that," Purdey whispered. "Well, it wasn't only that." She wiped her eyes impatiently. "I know what I remember. I know what I had. I know John Steed and Mike Gambit are out there, somewhere. My Gambit and Steed. I know it."

Gambit's expression was heartbreaking, repentant, worried, but also firm. "Purdey, you have to listen to me. You have to consider the facts. You read those files. You must have. That's where you got your information. About me. About Steed. Names. Dates. Places. Steed's life, and mine, were mapped out there, all ready to be read, digested, memorized, right down to the smallest detail. You could easily have gone in there every day and absorbed a little more, added another touch of realism to an ever-growing fantasy, to the point that anyone, particularly someone who was already a little unstable, could start to mistake facts on a page for some sort of reality, one that existed in your mind alone."

"But I know things that aren't in any file," Purdey said quietly. "I know the smell of your aftershave. I know that you nearly burnt down your school smoking at 13, and they never found you out. I know that your eyelids flicker when you lie, and your eyes turn green when the sun is out in the morning. I know you, Mike Gambit. I do."

Gambit shook his head, fighting back tears. "You know things you created," he clarified. "Can't you see? Don't you understand what I'm telling you? You read those files and found all the background details. But you were upset. You knew what Larry was planning, and he's been hurting you for who knows how long, so you broke down. Too much stress. There's no shame in it. No one can hang on forever."

Purdey shook her head. "No, no…"

Gambit pressed on, trying to push the explanation into her brain, to make her understand. "So you created another life for yourself, and you identified with Carrie. After all, she looks just like you. It's not that much of a stretch. And where there's Carrie, there's me, and you brought Steed in to connect you to the spying. You know all about spying from your father. And you made us your friends, your back-up, the people you could rely on, because you felt like you didn't have anyone to turn to."

"Stop it…"

"And you tweaked our lives to fit it. You never met us, so you had free rein. All that background for me and Steed that doesn't match up with reality? You invented it. And all those assignments, too."

"I couldn't have. I couldn't."

"Purdey, listen to reason. Giant rats? Killer health farms? Hitler resurrected? Remember, you told me all about those on the way to the ballet. That's pulp fantasy, not reality. You made it all up. You must have. And then when you took that blow to the head, it all got mixed up, and with the stress you forgot your real life started to think that the fantasy was reality."

Purdey was really crying now, but she didn't care. Because Gambit was making sense, and she didn't want him to.

"There is no other Steed," Gambit said quietly. "And there's no other Gambit, either. Steed and I are the genuine articles. No one's going to come for you, Purdey. No one's going to take you home. Because you are home."

"No," Purdey sobbed.

"Yes," Gambit said firmly, meeting her eyes. "You have to face facts. You read all those files. You made out that you and I flirted all the time—maybe you were remembering that we were supposed to be 'married,' one way or the other. You eliminated Larry from the picture. It's a fantasy world."

Purdey was shaking. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to believe it. But she did believe it. More and more. "And the hallucinations?"

"Like I said, head injury. Who knows what's been shaken loose. You should go back to the doctor. I can take you there."

"No," Purdey said quickly, gripping his arm as tight as she could. "No, I have to come with you. Please. At least let me finish this. If I am mad, at least let me have this one adventure. A real one."

Gambit worked his jaw for a moment, then looked up. Steed had entered, was staring at them in their position on the floor. "We're bringing Purdey," he stated, making a snap decision that surprised both Purdey and, she thought, herself.

"I thought we'd established that," the senior agent reminded.

"Yes, but I find I need a lot of reassurance these days," Purdey said quietly, picking herself up from the floor. "Sorry for the delay. Let's go."