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.

Purdey drove to her mother's by the most obvious route. She wasn't trying to lose her tail—on the contrary, she hoped they were following her. She knew her watchers would bolster her alibi should she be questioned about her whereabouts. She thought she'd spotted one familiar-looking car a few miles back, but she suspected they were trading off vehicles to make their chase less obvious, and she didn't have a bead on her current admirer's mode of conveyance just yet.

She hoped her mother hadn't done anything that might undermine her plan. Acacia undoubtedly knew she was up to something, despite Purdey's vague phone call about things going badly at work and needing a break from it all. But her mother had married a spy, so she knew more than most the sorts of perils that came from loose lips. Purdey only hoped she'd be as understanding when she told her what else she had planned.

She pulled into her mother's drive and parked her car, in full view, in front of her house. She alighted and removed her suitcase from the boot, climbed the steps in front of the door and rang the bell. Her mother must have heard her arrive, because she answered almost instantly.

"Purdey!" she greeted warmly, opening her arms and embracing her only child. "It's so nice to have you home for a visit. It's been much too long."

Purdey hugged her mother back, suddenly realising how much she'd craved the reassurance only a parent could give. "I'm very happy to be home," she told her, pulling back and smiling at her mother. "I'm sorry it's such short notice."

"Nonsense. You're my daughter. If you can't drop in at the last minute, who can? Come in and we can catch up." She ushered Purdey inside and closed the door behind her. No sooner had Purdey set down her suitcase than she was moving into the house, checking the windows. "Your stepfather is out writing his sermon, but he'll be back soon enough," Acacia began, turning to find her daughter scoping out the house like a true professional. "Purdey, what are you doing?"

"Checking," Purdey replied distractedly, running her hand under the edge of the windowsill. "Has anyone been in here lately? Anyone you don't know, or who was behaving oddly?"

"Of course not!" Acacia exclaimed. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. I saw your father looking for listening devices often enough, but why you'd think there were any here…" She paused and cocked her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Purdey, what is going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

Purdey sighed and left off searching. "Not me, but someone I work with," she explained. "I can't talk about it, mum, but I do need your help."

"Then you had better explain, because I'm not going to help you sacrifice yourself and your career without a good reason," Acacia said firmly. "And I mean a very good reason."

Purdey shook her head. "Really, mum, it's better for us both if you don't know. But you have to trust me that the person I'm helping needs that help very badly, and I'm going to give it to him."

Acacia strode over to where her daughter was standing, met her eyes. "It's someone you care about, then? Someone who means something to you?"

Purdey nodded in confirmation. "Yes."

"How much?" Purdey's mother pressed.

"Everything," Purdey answered, without hesitation. "And before you ask, he's done the same for me and more. He'd never ask for help, but he needs it or…" She swallowed hard. "Or I'm afraid something very, very terrible is going to happen to him. So please, mum. Please help me."

Her mother regarded her for a moment, seemed to consider her options. "I'll help," she said finally. "On one condition."

Purdey arched an eyebrow. "What sort of condition?"

"That you invite him for dinner when it's all over," Acacia requested. "Because I think I ought to meet the man my daughter's fallen in love with."

Purdey blushed in spite of herself. "I didn't say—"

"You didn't need to," Acacia cut in, taking her daughter's hand and giving it a squeeze. "And I'm very pleased for you. Now, tell me what you need me to do."

Purdey smiled gratefully. "First of all, have there been any messages delivered here for me? Any unusual communications of any kind?"

Acacia frowned in thought. "Nothing for you," she murmured, tapping a well-manicured finger against her lower lip contemplatively. "There was a solicitation letter from a florist, but I didn`t open it."

"A florist?" Purdey exclaimed, remembering Gambit's last mode of communication. "Mum, that might be it. Where did you put it?"

Acacia looked alarmed. "In the bin! I didn't think anything of it." She turned on her heel and hurried into the kitchen, opened up the cupboard beneath the sink. "It should be here…There it is!" She turned around and handed it to Purdey, clasped her hands anxiously. "It's a bit damp but I hope it's all right. If I'd known…"

"It's all right, mum," Purdey assured, though her heart was pounding so fast that it rather belied that assertion. What if the letter had contained something important, and it had been damaged? Or even worse, what if there was no message at all? What would that mean for Gambit?

Eventually she managed to tear the missive open with trembling fingers. There was a single sheet of paper inside. Much to her relief, she recognised Gambit's scrawl. There was no message, just an address to a boat docked in a marina and a time: midnight. Purdey smiled.

"Is it what you were looking for?" Purdey's mother wanted to know. Purdey nodded, moved to the kitchen drawer where she knew her mother kept a box of matches.

"Mum, did Elliot walk to the church today?" she inquired as she struck a match and held it to the paper and envelope, setting both alight.

"Yes, of course. He always walks in. You know that."

"And you pick him up?"

"Yes." Acacia cocked her head to one side. "Purdey, is this all leading somewhere? Because it will be infinitely quicker if you get to the point."

Purdey dropped the burning envelope and letter into the sink, watched them curl into ash. "I'm going to come with you when you pick him up," she explained. "But it's very important no one sees me leave the house or go into the church. Do you think we can arrange that?"

"Well, the car's in the garage, so no one would see you get in," Acacia said thoughtfully. "And I always drive around the back to pick your step-father up, so no one would be able to see you get out of the car, at least not without us seeing them. If you hurried, you might manage it."

Purdey nodded happily. "That might work. I'll unpack now. Let me know when you leave. And don't hurry on my account. They'll know something's going on otherwise."

vvv

Purdey lay in the back seat, clutching a bag to her chest and hoping no one stopped her mother's car en route. Thankfully, the car made it to the church without incident, and as soon as her mother pulled around the back of the building, she ducked out of the vehicle and inside, with her mother following behind at a more leisurely pace.

Inside, mother and daughter beat a path to the study in the back of the church, keeping a watchful eye open for any observant worshippers or enthusiastic community members who might be wandering the halls. It wouldn't do for Purdey's presence to be broadcast all around the village, where her watches might hear of it. There were a couple of close calls, but somehow they managed to slip inside before the town busybodies got a look-in.

The bishop was seated at his desk, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he pondered which choice of words would rouse his flock and inspire them to do great things. Unfortunately, his thoughts kept drifting to the garden show scheduled for that Saturday, where a rather lovely selection of roses was being promised. He was about to peruse the flyer that had been distributed in advance once more, to decide just which breed he was looking forward to the most, when Purdey and Acacia slipped inside and closed the door carefully behind them, startling him from his reverie. He regarded the newcomers with a measure of surprise, before smiling beatifically.

"My goodness me, can that be you, Purdey?" he exclaimed, rising to embrace her.

"It is," Purdey confirmed, rounding the desk to hug him warmly. "But I can't let anyone know I'm here, so as far you're concerned it's just mum, okay?"

"Ah, yes, yes," the bishop agreed, holding her at arm's length and nodding in understanding. "Yes, your mother said there was something odd going on. I was going to ask Roland about it, but then wondered if that would do more harm than good."

"It's just as well you didn't," Purdey confirmed. "I can't say too much, but there's something important I need to do, and I need your help to do it."

"Of course, of course, my dear. Anything you need."

Purdey smiled gratefully. "Well, if it's not too much trouble, I need somewhere to hide until this evening, and I need you to pretend that I'm at the house all night."

"Well, the second's quite easy," the bishop said blithely. "And as for the first, there is a place you could hide without being detected, but it's not very pleasant."

Purdey cocked her head. "Oh? Where?"

The bishop peered over the top of his glasses at her. "The crypt," he replied. "No one's been buried down there for quite some time, but even the long-time residents tend to unnerve people. But it's certainly not a place where you're likely to be disturbed."

Purdey looked to her mother and pulled a face. "Well, I suppose now isn't the time to be choosy."

"Oh, really, dear," her mother said blithely. "It's not as bad as everyone makes out. It's quite peaceful, and very private."

Purdey arched an interested eyebrow. "Private?"

Purdey's mother smiled mysteriously. "Oh, a lady must have some secrets, dear. You'll be all right. It's not for that long, and anyway, I brought you some sandwiches."

vvv

After everyone had gone, and the night had drawn in, and the sandwiches were nothing more than a memory, Purdey crept out from the depths below the church and into the night, helmet tucked under her arm. She forewent the use of a torch, unwilling to draw attention to herself, even though she was fairly certain any watchers would assume she was tucked up in bed at her mother's. But she owed it to Gambit to take every precaution she could.

She sprinted across an open field, making for a small, dilapidated barn in the distance, praying all the way that her uncle had managed to pull off her request.

The barn was old, and had been even when her mother moved to the area shortly after her marriage. Whoever had owned it once upon a time had upped sticks long ago, and as far as she knew no one had bothered to lay claim to it since. She'd come there on walks occasionally, while waiting for her stepfather to finish for the day, and peered inside the ramshackle structure, which contained nothing more than an old wagon and some rotting boards. No one had made it their clubhouse or base of operations in the interim, at least the last time she checked, and she prayed that was still the case. Otherwise Uncle Elly's 'gift' would be long gone.

Purdey arrived at the barn and tugged open the creaky old door as quietly as possible, wincing as the ancient hinges squeaked in protest, the noise sounding impossibly loud in the still night air. Creeping inside, she barely avoided tripping over a stray board and picked her way deeper into the structure, squinting in the dark.

It was then, in the thin beams of moonlight streaming through the cracks in the wall, that she saw what she was looking for. Sitting in what looked like its very own spotlight was a long, narrow structure, covered with a tarp. Purdey smiled gratefully. "Well done, Uncle Elly," she murmured to herself, and moved to grasp the cloth. It slid away to reveal the curves and lines of a sleek motorcycle, fast and agile. She would have preferred her own seat, but that was back at her flat, and there was no way of retrieving the motorcycle without attracting attention. But Uncle Elly had chosen well—she'd be back in the city in no time on the magnificent beast.

Purdey carefully wheeled her transport out of the barn and onto the nearby country road, forever vigilant for lurking cars. It was only when her helmet was on and there was nothing more she could do to conceal her presence that she risked kicking the machine into life, its throaty growl echoing across the countryside. Purdey didn't know if anyone heard it, or saw the vibrant headlights cutting through the gloom, but neither of them could be helped. She pulled down her goggles and set off at a quick pace. If she hadn't managed to elude all of her watchers, she could at least try to outrun them.

She'd thought the worst part of the trip would be looking out for tails, but when it became apparent that there was no one following her, her mind was able to wander and dwell on less-palatable topics. Foremost among them was what she would do if Gambit didn't turn up, and what that would mean. Purdey was under no illusions that their rendezvous was risky, regardless of how many precautions they'd taken. If Gambit felt that there was a chance he would be caught, he wouldn't come, and Purdey couldn't blame him for that. The problem was, she had no way of knowing whether Gambit had chosen not to meet of his own accord, or whether that decision had been made for him. And how permanent that decision was.

She was so lost in thought that the journey passed quickly, and before she knew it she was approaching her destination: a set of docks, quiet at that time of night. All the same, she shut off her bike and wheeled it into the silent, graveyard-like setting, eyes peeled for an errant night watchman or anyone fond of checking on their boat at all hours. She passed a boat in drydock, and took the opportunity to stash her bike beneath the tarp protecting it from the elements, leaving her helmet with it. Hopefully it would remain undisturbed.

Able to move more freely, she darted from cover to cover, taking a circuitous route to her destination: a small boat docked at the end of a short pier, bobbing gently in the moonlit waves. Purdey surveyed the terrain from behind a larger drydocked number, gauging how long it would take her to sprint silently across the open ground. The pier itself was cloaked in darkness, but there was ground to cover on the way where she didn't have the benefit of the ships to hide behind. She glanced around for another route, but there was none. She took a deep breath and made a break for it, praying that no one was around to see.

She crossed the distance quickly and easily, though it seemed longer in her head, and made a beeline for her destination, the boat Gambit had named in his message. Gambit hadn't specified if he'd meet her beside or on the boat, but it made more sense from an espionage perspective to go inside, where there was less chance of being seen, even if it meant potentially trapping themselves onboard with nowhere to run.

There was a small gangplank leading to the boat, and Purdey crossed it and vaulted over the side easily, ducking down through the doors leading to the cabin below. The stairs were narrow and she took them carefully, not wanting to risk either the noise or the injury that might come from tumbling down them. They led into a small cabin containing a shallow bunk and a shelf. There was no sign of Gambit. Purdey checked her watch and found that there were a few minutes to go until their assigned meeting time. She settled down onto the edge of the bunk to wait.

It made sense, really, for Gambit to choose to meet there, at the docks, on a boat. She forgot about his past life as a sailor sometimes, a role she'd never really seen him in, their profession largely being confined to land. But every once in awhile she registered his rocking gait, or heard him rattle off a bit of naval trivia, and it reminded her that he'd had whole careers before they'd even met, just as she had had in France and at the ballet. He talked to her about his past more often since they'd begun their burgeoning romance, but it was still sometimes difficult to imagine him not as a spy, but as a young man with the sea air in his lungs and the spray in his face. He always looked wistful when he talked about the sea—he said it was peaceful, calming, and sometimes he missed being aboardship. It occurred to her that she'd like to sail with him one day, observe him in his natural environs. When all this is over, we'll go sailing together, she promised herself, pointedly refusing to acknowledge the possibility that, if things carried on as they were, they might not be able to go anywhere together ever again.

Purdey shook off the sudden chill that was permeating her bones and scrubbed at her upper arms to try and warm them. She checked the time and frowned. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she'd let time get away from her. It was fifteen minutes past the designated time of their rendezvous, and there was no sign of Gambit at all. Even allowing for the fact that he might be held up, his delay was getting worrisome, and Purdey knew that the longer she stayed, the better the chance that she might wind up caught in a trap. And yet, what if Gambit really was just late, nothing more sinister than that, and she left? Then he'd be worrying after her, wondering why she hadn't come. Then again, she couldn't sit and wait forever. Eventually she had to start making her way to Uncle Elly's, while she still had the cover of darkness. She couldn't afford to wait all night, no matter how much she wanted to.

Purdey bit her lip and rose reluctantly from the bunk, put her hands on her hips and tried to decide how much more time to give Gambit before she gave up entirely. Perhaps he was waiting for her outside the ship, and didn't know she'd gone in? That was one possibility. Purdey decided to start by investigating whether that was the case, and then take things from there.

She climbed the stairs back up to the deck and peered out of the door, alert for anyone loitering on the dock, friendly or otherwise. No one seemed to be about, so she carefully crept out onto the deck and made her way back over the gangplank and onto the pier, pondering her next move. Gambit definitely wasn't there, so she needed to decide on a new strategy, and soon.

It was at that moment, just as she was starting to make her way onto the pier, that she stepped on something. Something soft and squishy. Something that definitely didn't belong on the docks. Purdey frowned and bent to retrieve whatever it was, holding it up to her face for closer inspection in the dark of the night. The scent of something sweet and sugary met her nose. She smiled.

It was a marshmallow.

Purdey straightened up and looked around, alert and hopeful. A marshmallow was definitely a message for her, and definitely from Gambit, who knew of her fondness for the little blobs of gelatine. If it was here, so was Gambit, and her heart sang with hope and anticipation. She scanned the rest of the dock for any more squishy clues.

There! A few feet away, another marshmallow was waiting. Purdey hurried over and retrieved it, spotted another a few feet away. Like a child in a particularly modern fairy tale, she followed the marshmallow trail all the way to another boat, moored a few berths down from her original destination. The last of the marshmallows was resting on the gangplank, and Purdey plucked it up with rest of its friends as she crossed. As she moved to descend into the boat, she prayed inwardly that, this time, Gambit would be waiting for her.

The stairs led to another cabin, though this one was much larger than the last, in keeping with the size of the ship. The bunk was wider, and there was enough space to accommodate a desk, a chair, and a closet. Purdey made her way across the hardwood floor, eyes scanning the room for any more marshmallow clues, but there was none to be found. She hissed in frustration and put her hands on her hips, pivoted to conduct a 360-degree survey of her surroundings. "Gambit?" she called softly. "Gambit, are you here?" She didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't; if, after one disappointment, her hope had been renewed, only to be dashed once more. Now she had tangible proof that Gambit had been there. If he wasn't there, it meant something had happened. Something bad.

She started to pace up and down the cabin, too worked up to sit down and wait again, mind whirring as she tried to work out her next move. She was so distracted that she failed to notice a gap between the floorboards gradually widen as part of the floor simply lifted up and away from the rest…