Same Time Next Year

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: Ninth in a series. Takes place in November, 1977, a few months after the conclusion of the series in the Canadian episodes. It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc: Lost Boys, Anew, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, Brazil, Life on Mars, and 'Til Death.

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

"Steed!" The voice was as warm as the wave that Steed caught out of the corner of his eye as he cast about the lobby of the Chateau Laurier for his rendezvous. That warmth only intensified when he twisted around to regard Tara King head on as she sprung out of a chair tucked behind one of the building's several magnificent marble pillars.

"Tara, my dear!" Steed exclaimed in greeting, welcoming the arms flung around his neck with abandon as much as the musical laughter that reached his ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist in return, the other still holding his bowler and umbrella, and, for a moment, it was 1967, and Tara was the newly-minted Agent 69, fresh from training and still learning the ropes, expressing her gratitude for him saving her from almost certain death once again.

It was a lovely moment, but fleeting, and when Tara pulled away, the years returned in a flash. The woman who stood before him, clad in a smart navy knee-length dress trimmed in white, with her hair cut bluntly at her chin, was definitely just that—a woman, not a wide-eyed ingenue. Not that Tara wasn't still beautiful and brimming with youth, vitality, and brightness—she was still the vivacious woman he had been proud to mentor and work with for several years. But if the eyes were no less bright, they were also more knowing, imbued with the maturity and sophistication of an accomplished woman who, at a mere thirty years of age, was already onto her second career, after admirably acquitting herself in the first.

"I can't believe you're here," Tara enthused, eyes taking in every detail of his impeccably-tailored grey suit, and the way it draped elegantly on his frame. "When you called earlier this week and said you were going to meet me in person, I thought for certain it must be an early April Fool's joke."

Steed frowned in mock horror. "My dear Miss King, would I ever deceive a lady in such a way?"

"You would and you have," Tara said knowingly, but without venom. "You'd just do it so charmingly that the lady in question would forgive you instantly."

"You cut me to the quick, my dear," Steed said in mock horror, but with a twinkle in his eyes that told Tara he knew she spoke the truth. "But I'm delighted that you were able to meet me on such short notice."

Tara laughed again. "Well, you did just make the trip all the way from London to Ottawa. The very least I could do is take a long lunch and walk a few blocks to meet you. Besides, you've promised me tea." She looped her arm through his and started to guide him toward the hotel's restaurant.

"I have indeed," Steed confirmed, letting himself be led. "A small price to pay for your company."

"And for my precious cargo," Tara added knowingly, patting a shiny black valise slung over her shoulder. "I know you're not only here to see me."

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean I'm any less delighted," Steed said sincerely. "I do wish that we could meet more often."

"That's what comes with an overseas posting with the embassy," Tara pointed out, carefully omitting the fact that they both knew very well that she'd gone into that line of work precisely to put some distance between them. "But I can't complain. I love my work, and I've seen so much of the world because of it. It's been a completely different experience from working at the Ministry."

"A better experience?" Steed queried, doing his best to mask the competitive streak that threatened to surface, unbidden, surprised at his own reaction. But Tara had been a student of John Steed long before she'd even met him in the flesh, and had used their time as partners to only deepen and intensify her studies. She could tell when he was trying to hide something, and what it was. More importantly, she knew how to fix it.

"Not better," she assured, hugging his arm a little tighter. "Just different. And I needed something different." She smiled to take any lingering sting away. "But that doesn't mean I don't miss some things about home."

"Some things?" Steed repeated, eyes twinkling. "I know a gentleman should never inquire…"

"Then he shouldn't," Tara teased. "But I can tell you, I miss certain places. Shops. Restaurants." She paused and turned her big green eyes on Steed. "People." She grinned broadly. "Does that make it better?"

"It is rather encouraging to be missed," Steed confessed. "If I can flatter myself that I number amongst those lucky few who hold that special place in your affections."

"You know you do," Tara said softly, and Steed knew she wasn't only alluding to their friendship and partnership. He was well-aware that Tara had been in love with him, that it had been a driving factor in drawing them together in the early days of their partnership, when he was still smarting from the loss of Emma. It was ironic that that love would be what ultimately drove them apart. Because no matter how fond Steed had been of Tara, how much he had cared for her, how happy he had been to work with her and have her in his life, he could never pretend that he felt the same way about her that she did about him. And Tara, bless her, had never held it against him, had never let it make her bitter. But it had made her realise that she couldn't stay with him forever, for his sake as much as hers. There was only so long that one could maintain one's sanity in the face of unrequited love, and Tara had ultimately known when she had to walk away, even if it hurt them both to sever the partnership that they had forged. He'd been sorry to see her go, watch another partner move on to new horizons without him, but he'd known it was for the best. Still, he had no doubt that the loss had kept him from taking on a regular partner for a few years. John Steed was a strong man, but even he could only bear being left behind so many times. It was easier on the psyche, and the ego, to not welcome anyone else into his life on a permanent basis, so as to not risk being abandoned again. And he hadn't. Until Gambit.

Which brought him to why he was here.

Tara's smile had turned slightly crooked as her mind, like his, flicked back to her reasons for leaving, and the final days of their partnership. A subdued silence settled over them and stayed stubbornly in place as they waited patiently during an interminably long interval for the couple ahead of them to be seated. It followed them, cloudlike, as their server escorted them to a table for two tucked by a window in the bright, cheery space. They were happy for the distraction as another woman brought the trolley laden with canisters of tea, and walked them through all the varieties available for their delectation. By the time they'd made their selections-and replied to the query as to whether they wanted the champagne option with a merry, "Of course!"-the gloom had passed, and Tara's green eyes were bright and clear.

"Afternoon tea is something else I miss from home," she confided to Steed, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I come here often to get my fix. Don't tell anyone back in England, but this version is almost as good. I don't want them to seize my passport and accuse me of treason."

Steed laughed in delight. "Your secret is safe with me, my dear," he vowed, turning happily as two flutes fizzing animatedly were delivered to their table by the charming waitress. "Ah, here we are." He raised his glass to Tara. "Your health, my dear."

Tara shook her head. "Oh, no, Steed. To you, for coming all this way to see me." She winked ever-so-slightly. "Even if you did have an ulterior motive."

Steed laughed in good-natured acceptance of the truth of the jab. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

They drank, taking a moment to savour the pop of bubbles on their tongues. It was with genuine regret that Steed set his glass aside and said, "Speaking of that ulterior motive."

"Mmm." Tara pressed her fingers to her lips as the bubbles tickled her nose. "I have them here." She set her glass on the spotless white tablecloth and started rifling through the satchel, came up with a stack of files. She held back from setting them on the table, pulling them to her chest as the server set two teapots on the table. "Thank you," she said politely, then waited until the woman was far enough away to be out of earshot. "It wasn't easy," she confided quietly, setting the stack in front of her with a hefty 'thunk'.

"I didn't think for a moment that it would be," Steed assured, leaning forward in anticipation. "But you seem to have exceeded yourself, as per usual."

Tara glowed at the compliment, just as she had back at the beginning of their partnership, when every word from him was considered tantamount to sacred text by her. "Well, I wouldn't be a very good member of the international espionage and diplomatic set if I couldn't pull some strings, would I?"

"I have no doubt that you could charm your way into any embassy or security service in the world, credentials or not," Steed opined.

"It might have taken a little longer if I didn't have them," Tara allowed. "It's just as well that I did. There's been a lot written about Mr. Gambit. I had my work cut out for me to pull it all together."

Steed allowed himself a small smile. "I'd like to say in all honesty that I'm surprised that Gambit's reputation precedes him, but I'm afraid I can't."

"You might have mentioned that when you called," Tara said, somewhat tiredly. "At least I would have had some idea of what I was dealing with."

"I wanted you to approach your task without preconceptions," Steed said airily, pouring his tea with enviable flourish. "I needed that inquisitive mind of yours to be completely open to all possibilities, unfettered by my own knowledge base. Besides, you knew he was an active agent. You must have expected the usual reams of records acquired by people in our line of work."

"Yes, I expected that," Tara said wryly, patting the stack in front of her in a way that indicated she'd found more than she'd bargained for, and wasn't about to let Steed forget it. "I expected the extensive documentation of his Ministry career. All those dotted 'i's and forms signed in triplicate, all the reports filed diligently for inclusion in the case file hall of fame." She paused and divided the pile in half, creating two, smaller piles. She indicated the one on her right. "This was what I expected, what I'd expect to find on any agent." She turned to the pile to her left. "What I didn't expect was the masses upon masses of documentation covering his previous career with the army." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Army files are detailed, but never this detailed, especially when the soldier in question isn't serving in an active conflict zone. Or at the very least, isn't supposed to be." Her lips pursed grimly. "But Gambit wasn't serving in a traditional capacity, was he? At least, not toward the end of his career?"

"I'm afraid not," Steed confirmed, sensing Tara's annoyance and smiling apologetically. "I would have told you, my dear, as I said, but I did want you to pursue your own avenues of inquiry without me blocking them off."

"I understand," Tara sighed wearily. "But again, I would have rather been given some sort of warning about what I was getting into. I wound up having to block out twice as many lunch hours than I'd bargained for to get through just half of Mr. Gambit's CV."

Steed winced in sympathy. "My apologies, my dear."

"You owe me for a week's worth of terrible ham sandwiches from the local café," Tara said good-humouredly, flipping open the file on top of Gambit's military career pile. A black and white 8x10 photo of Gambit was resting on top, and Tara picked it up and regarded it with a pleased little smile. "Mind you, it did have its compensations."

Steed's own smile was a little strained, but he wasn't entirely certain that Tara noticed, eyes riveted as they were on the glossy image before her. It was a strange sensation for him to feel jealous of Gambit, always having been successful in his own right at wooing the opposite sex. It was more irrational still for him to be jealous of Gambit where Tara was concerned, a woman who had openly desired him for years, and still nurtured a fondness for him that he could safely assume would never be completely extinguished. But, much as he hated to admit it, even John Steed wasn't immune to the effects of wounded male pride when the eyes of a desirable woman turned to another masculine profile. "I wasn't aware he was your type," he said with affected casualness.

The humour in Tara's eyes told him he hadn't fooled her for a second. "Tall, dark, and handsome, you mean? Oh, Steed, you know my type better than anyone."

Steed felt his bruised ego revive a little as Tara's green eyes worked their magic on him, but couldn't help the extra deterrent that slipped out from between his lips. "He's also spoken for, I'm afraid." He omitted Purdey's name, mindful of the secrecy of their romance. Not that he thought Tara would be indiscreet, but there was no telling who might be listening. He knew he really shouldn't be telling Tara that detail at all if he really wanted to keep it secret, but his pride wasn't quite as immune as he'd hoped from the smart of Tara's wandering eye.

"They always are," Tara sighed resignedly, setting the photo aside. "That also seems to be my type." She eyed Steed meaningfully, and for a moment the spectre of Emma Peel hovered over their table, until the waitress arrived with the tea trays.

"Gambit's eligibility aside," Steed began after a moment, when the waitress had well and truly vacated the premises once more. And, more importantly, his ego had quit smarting. "What did you find out?"

"Lots of things," Tara said unconcernedly, selecting a cucumber sandwich from the tray and nibbling at it.

Steed waited a moment for her to continue, but when she showed no signs of adding more, he realised he was going to have to persist. "Such as?" he prompted.

Tara laughed at Steed's expression. "Oh, really, Steed," she said merrily. "I hardly ever got to keep you in suspense when we were working together. You always had the upper hand. Let me enjoy this."

Steed chuckled in spite of himself. "All right, my dear. I will concede that you've earned the right to savour the moment, especially as this particular endeavour is extra-curricular."

"Thank you, Steed," Tara replied, inclining her head slightly so the edge of her blunt bob tickled her chin. "But I shan't keep you in suspense any longer. I know this is quite serious business, particularly for Gambit." She popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully as she set about opening another of the files from Gambit's military career. "As far as I can tell, Gambit had a perfectly respectable career with the Paras before he got himself pulled into some sort of top secret undercover operation." She looked expectantly up at Steed. "I assume that's what you're interested in."

"You assume correctly," Steed confirmed, plucking a scone from the tray and deftly slicing it open with the same finesse as when he wielded his brolly.

Tara nodded in satisfaction. "I thought it might be," she said knowingly, taking a curried chicken from the tray this time. "The operation consisted of several serving British soldiers posing as mercenaries, all of whom would be conducting clandestine business for the British government while taking on the odd job to reinforce their cover. Am I on the right track?"

"Like a bloodhound," Steed confirmed, smearing his scone with clotted cream and strawberry preserve.

"By all accounts, Gambit was not a happy recruit," Tara went on. "Or a willing one. Reading his record, and his reports, he made multiple overtures that suggest he was unhappy with the questionable nature of the entire operation, not to mention the methods they were instructed to employ in the completion of their assignments." She paused as she skimmed over a page in the report, and a grin crept across her face. "According to this, he was very good at finding creative ways of stopping the terrible people he was assigned to kill in ways that were morally and legally superior to what his superiors asked of him."

Steed matched her grin with one of his own around a bite of scone. "That does sound like Gambit," he opined, when he could speak clearly. "But it might work against him where our people are concerned. Could any of his actions be construed as going into business for himself?"

Tara emitted a peal of laughter that was strong enough to make her drop her scone. "If he was, he's terrible with the accounts. He was dipping into his own funds for the resources to do things properly. And I have the financial records to prove it." She brandished a handful of pages and waved them under Steed's nose.

Steed took a thin sheaf of pages from her and perused them while he sipped his tea. "Where did you get these?"

"They're all part of the service," Tara replied wryly. "Despite this operation supposedly being undercover, it was more or less an open secret amongst various foreign intelligence services who had an interest in the same targets. They were keeping tabs on what Gambit and his fellow operatives were up to."

"Hence the records," Steed surmised, and Tara inclined her head slightly in confirmation. "Did any of them have contact with Gambit?"

"Not directly," Tara confirmed. "Which is to say, not when he was aware of it. He wasn't the only one there pretending to be something he wasn't. Some of them even helped him along the way, even if he didn't know it." She smiled again. "I think rather a lot of them approved of what he was doing, and his willingness to flout his bosses' authority to do it. Reading between the lines, I think that they were considering trying to recruit him, and they might have done it if he hadn't been making it so clear to his bosses that he wanted out."

"It would've been the Ministry's loss if they had," Steed opined, sampling the cucumber sandwiches for himself. "And if he's tried for treason, it still might be. What do they have to say about his capture?"

Tara paled a little at that. "Nothing positive," she admitted, in the definition of understatement. "There's very little they could record firsthand about his internment itself. They knew he'd gone missing trying to steal papers from a person of interest named Solomon, but no one knew if he was dead, or captured, or had made a run for it. And no one was interested in jeopardising their surveillance operations to find out." She picked up her teacup and took a long, rejuvenating drink before continuing. "It was only when he broke himself out that there start to be firsthand accounts." She regarded Steed with moist doe eyes. "Oh, Steed, I know he's your friend. How graphic do you want me to be?"

"I'm familiar with all the gory details," Steed informed, repressing the urge to shudder. "Gambit gave me a firsthand account of his own."

Tara looked relieved that she didn't have to repeat what she'd read. "That's just as well. This isn't the place to talk about that sort of thing." She swallowed hard, and Steed could tell the files she'd read about Gambit's interrogation had shaken her, even as a seasoned agent who'd found herself in her share of frightening situations. "Gambit was eventually taken back to England for treatment, but before they could risk moving him, he spent a few days in the local hospital. All the interested services sent people in, mostly medical staff, to see what they could get out of him about Solomon. They also talk about his treatment and state of mind."

Steed leaned forward eagerly. "The fellow investigating Gambit is quite keen to posit the theory that he faked his psychological trauma."

"If he did, he's an awfully good actor," Tara said grimly. "Given the accounts from their medical experts, they were amazed that Gambit had survived at all. I don't think anyone could honestly believe that he could fool all of those people. And the same goes for the medical establishment at home."

"Which Larry has been giving no credence at all," Steed muttered under his breath, then smiled at Tara's look of bemusement. "Don't mind me, my dear. It's been a rather trying time, not helped by some rather trying people."

"I know the feeling," Tara sighed in commiseration. "All too well. In that case, I hope this helps."

Steed smiled reassuringly. "It'll be a great help, Tara. I've no doubt about that. The more evidence we can bring forward, from independent sources no less, people with nothing to gain by attesting to Gambit's motivations, the better." He selected one of the cream puff swans at the top of the tray, dipped his finger in the cream and savoured the way it dissolved on his tongue. "What did you find on Vanessa Thyme?"

"Another person you could have warned me about," Tara said wryly, dipping into her satchel for more files.

Steed nodded thoughtfully. "Another extensive record, I trust?"

"Rather the opposite," Tara contradicted, opening the first of a thin stack of files on top of Gambit's, and skimming the top page. "She knows how to cover her tracks. I could find things on the career, but not the woman, if that makes sense." She pursed her lips as she picked up the top sheet. "Still, I don't know why I was surprised. A name like 'Vanessa Thyme' screams 'alias', doesn't it?"

Steed chuckled, seeing the humour in the situation. "One of many, I'd hazard."

"Yes, and I have the feeling there are dozens of capers she'd pulled where they're still trying to work out who's responsible," Tara theorised, flipping the page over. "It's just that no one's thought to join the dots yet." She shook her head as she reacquainted herself with the executive summary of the file. "I always wonder what it is that drives people to enter such horrible careers."

"Besides ours, you mean?" Tara gave him a look, but Steed ignored it. "Never mind. I'm not particularly concerned with her biography. Just her connection with Gambit. Is there any indication that your foreign service friends found even the smallest hint of a connection between her and Gambit, one that went beyond detainer and detainee?"

Much to Steed's pleasure, Tara shook her head in a definitive 'no'. "Not a thing. There wasn't any indication they'd even met before he was captured, and wherever she surfaced after the fact was far away from Gambit. And before you ask, yes I did cross-reference with the files you sent me rather than take their word for it."

"I wouldn't dream of doubting you, my dear."

"No, but you want to be sure. This is someone's life on the line, someone you care about." Tara regarded him intently. "I know you'd do the same for me. And you have." They shared a moment as they collectively reflected on their many escapades as partners, the close calls and narrow misses, the dramatic rescues and death-defying escapes. Then Tara turned back to business. "I really can't find anyone in all these records who would reasonably assert that Gambit was in league with Thyme. And it's not for lack of imagination, either. Like all people in our line of work, all the foreign intelligence services have suspicious minds. They were on the lookout for the possibility that Gambit might have gone over while in captivity. They were also very interested in the papers he was sent to acquire, and alert to the possibility that he might want to sell them on for his own profit. They suggest as much in several reports, and dismiss it just as quickly. They kept tabs on him in the years following, but they didn't find anything. As far as they're concerned, the papers are gone, the whole army operation was shut down, and Gambit moved onto the Ministry." She shook her head. "The case is closed, and that goes for Gambit's interactions with Vanessa Thyme."

"Until now," Steed murmured, running a finger along the space above his top lip. "I don't suppose you could see your way to making some copies of all that tireless research?"

"You can have mine," Tara offered, shuffling the files into one pile. "I'm not going to have much use for them, am I?"

Steed smiled wickedly. "Even the photo?"

Tara blushed, much to his amusement. "You said he was taken, didn't you?"

"I did." Steed regarded her for a moment, smiling fondly. "Thank you, Tara. You've no idea how grateful I am."

"Anything for you, Steed," Tara replied softly. She bit her lip, seeming to consider her next words carefully. "I suppose you'll have to rush off back to England?"

"My flight leaves tomorrow morning," Steed confirmed, "but that leaves me plenty of time to finish my tea with a very dear friend. And perhaps I could take you out for a drink and dinner after you've finished for the day? That is, if you haven't made other plans."

Tara positively glowed at the invitation. "That sounds lovely, Steed."

"My pleasure, my dear," Steed enthused, before indicating the top of the tray. "Might I interest you in a swan?"

"Always," Tara confirmed happily, and the next hour unrolled with a delightful ease that was still fizzing in Steed's brain when he nodded off on his flight back to London.