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.

Gambit regained consciousness through a fog that was periodically broken up by fuzzy, blurred light-bright and penetrating, beating down on him from above, too close for comfort. He scrunched up his eyes and tried to turn away, but his side protested violently when he put his weight on it. He sucked air in sharply through his teeth and rolled onto his back. Everything ached, including his arms when he moved them to nurse the stiches on his side. His eyes were about the only part of him that didn't hurt when he moved them, at least when he wasn't being blinded. If only someone would switch that damn light off...

It took time, and much swearing internally, but eventually, Gambit's eyes adjusted to the point that he could open them and keep them open. Things weren't too clear at first, a wash of blurred shapes akin to an impressionist painting, but the longer he kept them open, the more the view began to improve. After much blinking and squinting, the fog cleared and the lights resolved themselves into a bank of highly-uninspiring, standard-issue fluorescent tubes. It was then that his sinuses picked up the unmistakable, and sadly all-too-familiar, scent of antiseptics mixed with the haze of unwellness. He knew without having to investigate further that he was in a hospital, which did nothing for his mood. He hated hospitals, hated being confined to a sickbed, hated their association with terrible happenings and the fact that being in one resulted in automatic entry into an unpopular club of human misery. But despite his unhappiness with the situation, the fact that he was in hospital wasn't terribly surprising, even if he couldn't quite remember exactly what might have happened to bring him there.

He tried sitting up, and the familiar sound of an alarm going off immediately reached his ears, followed by an equally familiar voice. "I shouldn't do that if I were you."

Gambit turned his head slightly to his left, and immediately regretted it as pain flashed behind his eyes, but not before he caught sight of John Steed sitting at his bedside, perusing a copy of the Times. "You earned more than your share of bruises when half that building fell on you," Steed went on, and Gambit heard the rustle of newsprint as Steed folded his paper for the time being.

Gambit eased himself back onto the bed and the pain mercifully ceased. "Feels like it was the whole building," he mumbled thickly.

"It very nearly was," Steed confided, deadly serious. "I found you under a rather conveniently-placed fallen beam that that protected you from the worst of it. You may feel as though you inhaled rather a large quantity of plaster dust."

Gambit's eyes squeezed shut as the last few moments before everything went black suddenly came rushing back. At the same time, as if his body had only just noticed the irritation in his chest area upon Steed's mentioning it, Gambit began to cough violently, doubling up in spite of the sharp stab of pain from the stitches in his side and the renewed protest of the alarms on his various monitors. He hacked for a full half a minute, though to his lungs it seemed longer, and collapsed back onto the pillows exhausted and breathless, with blackness from the prolonged lack of air dancing at the edges of his vision. When his eyes cleared, he found Steed standing at his bedside, holding a glass of water with a straw in it. "Here you are," he said, with the gentle authority of a parent suggesting a course of action for a belligerent child's own good. "It'll rinse your throat out," he added, as Gambit took the glass and manipulated the straw to allow him to drink without spilling or sitting up. "You've had oxygen and might feel some discomfort for a little while, but Kendrick is confident that once you're up and around your body will expel whatever might be left in there on its own, especially with a course of expectorant to help things along."

"Thanks," Gambit croaked, both for the explanation and the water. He took a few soothing, refreshing sips and then settled back, exhausted, against the pillows. "I knew there was a reason I never became a smoker," he added wryly, eyes fluttering closed wearily.

Steed released a bark of laughter as he relieved him of the glass and returned it to the nightstand. "I won't argue with you on that front. As I've said several times, I only carry cigarettes for my friends who foolishly partake."

"But you keep the cigars for yourself." Gambit had one eye open, and it was dancing merrily with triumphant good humour at having Steed dead to rights, a state of affairs that was relatively rare and therefore to be savoured.

"I only smoke them in very select company," Steed refuted mildly, secretly glad that Gambit was up to giving him a hard time. It meant he was going to be all right. Even Gambit wouldn't make quips on his death bed.

"Which doesn't include me," Gambit parried, breaking off briefly to cough again, but his lungs already sounded clearer than they had during the first round of coughing, Steed noted optimistically.

"I can assure you there was no offence intended," he declared, settling onto the edge of Gambit's hospital bed. "I didn't want to invite you for fear of putting you in the difficult position of having to refuse my hospitality."

"Or to keep me from being a witness," Gambit said knowingly. "You old hypocrite. You used to smoke all the time in the sixties. I've read the case reports."

"Only for undercover purposes, I assure you," Steed defended, but the small smile playing over his lips unquestionably revealed his guilt.

"I'll have to remember that excuse the next time Purdey catches me doing something she doesn't like," Gambit chuckled, then paled noticeably as the woman's name reminded his still-addled brain that she'd shared the perilous situation that had landed him in the hospital bed in the first place. "Purdey!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with panic. He looked desperately at Steed. "Is Purdey okay?" he asked in alarm, urgently attempting to sit up once more and earning more alarms from the machines and coughs from deep in his chest for his troubles.

"Purdey's fine," Steed soothed, leaning forward to grasp Gambit's shoulder and gently press him back against the pillows. "Her most pressing concern is worrying after you."

"She wasn't injured?" Gambit pressed, eyeing Steed suspiciously. "If something has happened to her, Steed, don't hold back. It won't stop me from worrying."

"Purdey is fine," Steed repeated, lightly thumping the mattress for emphasis. "Cuts and bruises and a lungful of plaster dust, but nothing more. Even your gallant attempt to shield her from being crushed, while admirable, turned out to be unnecessary. The beam landed to protect you both rather than crush you, so the most she needed saving from were a few bits and pieces of rubble."

"And me crushing the life out of her by lying on top of her like a dead weight," Gambit added bitterly in self-recrimination, passing a weary, disconsolate hand over his forehead. "What was I thinking?"

"In the split-second you had at your disposal before the whole roof came down on you, I expect you were thinking very little," Steed opined, and then at Gambit's wince at admonishment for his own thoughtlessness, added, "except about Purdey's safety." Gambit peered out at Steed from between his fingers, and earned a good-humoured chuckle from the man at his trepidation. "You'd been stabbed—" He tapped lightly on Gambit's stitches, earning another wince for an entirely different reason. "-and were losing rather a lot of blood. No one could have blamed you for not being able to think of anything at all, aside from perhaps your own survival. The fact that you were looking out for Purdey's well-being instead is admirable, if rather hard on yourself, in every sense of the word." He titled his head to one side and regarded Gambit inquisitively. "I'm not entirely certain where you developed this masochistic streak, but if it was under my watch, then I do apologise."

Gambit allowed himself a crooked grin, which told Steed that is reassurances were working. "Purdey's hypothesis is that I was born with it, and I know better than to argue with her, so that's one sin you can exculpate yourself from."

"Phew." Steed executed a pantomime brow wipe. "I thought I might be in trouble."

"With Purdey in the equation, you still might be," Gambit quipped mischievously.

Steed arched an alarmed eyebrow. "What on earth for?"

Gambit shrugged as best he could from his reclined position. "With Purdey, who knows? You'll have to ask her when she gets here."

Steed was still chuckling about that when the furrow between Gambit's eyebrows returned. "If Purdey's okay, where is she?" he wanted to know, expression turning suspicious once more. "Have you seen her?"

"Several times in the last two years, but most recently less than an hour ago," Steed said jauntily, fixing Gambit with an inquisitive expression. "Did you expect her to be tending your bedside?"

Gambit flushed self-consciously. "Not expect," he mumbled, "but I thought, maybe, she might have dropped by…"

"And you would have been right, even more right if you'd stayed with that original thought," Steed revealed. "She sat with you all night, dozing in that very chair—" Steed pointed at the one that he, until very recently, had himself occupied. "—and would not be persuaded to leave for more than a minute or two, until I finally managed to get her to stretch her legs with a promise that I would man her post in her stead." Steed's own brow creased, suddenly perturbed, as a thought occurred to him. "She's going to be very annoyed that she missed your waking up on my account."

"I told you you might be in trouble," Gambit reminded, and the two men shared a chuckle at the affectionate joke, until Gambit started to cough again. "So Purdey's okay," Gambit said to himself when he could breathe easier, eyes fluttering closed with fatigue as he concentrated hard on that fact, as though trying to convince himself of its truth. "What happened to the papers?"

Steed smiled enigmatically. "I'll let Purdey explain that to you. What I can tell you, however, is that Vanessa Thyme is currently laid out in the Ministry morgue."

Gambit turned his head so quickly that the pain nearly made him cry out, but he was determined to see Steed's face to make sure the comment wasn't the cruelest of cruel jokes. "She's dead?" he exclaimed, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "You're sure?"

Steed's nod was undeniably affirmative. "We've retrieved the body. You can confirm it for yourself once you're up and about, but I can assure you that it is her, and she is most definitely not alive."

Gambit released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "So that's it," he murmured dazedly, too stunned to come up with anything more eloquent. "It's over. Finally. After all these years."

Steed smiled in agreement. "It would seem that way, particularly since Purdey and Sara's legwork was able to explain away your unusual movements over the past few years. There may be some lingering questions, but leaving that aside, I think you can safely close the book on that chapter of your life."

Gambit felt the tension leave his shoulders, the pillows swallowing him up as he went blessedly limp. "I can't believe it. It's been hanging over me for so long."

Steed patted him reassuringly on the arm. "In my experience, it takes some time for these things to sink in, but it's always worth it when it does. I know that chapter of your life took its toll on you. This ordeal might have been unpleasant, but it might have been worth it. I think it'll do you a world of good moving forward."

"Yeah." Gambit was still virtually speechless, almost hypnotised by the glow of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. "Thanks, Steed. For everything, including listening to me back in 1975, when we were locked up in the dark."

"My pleasure," Steed replied sincerely. "I'm quite pleased it's all worked out as it has. It's very difficult to find good friends and partners, and I don't relish having to replace them. Speaking of which, Purdey will be very annoyed that not only wasn't she here when you woke up, but that I was the one who gave you the news. I think she was rather looking forward to telling you herself. Perhaps that was why she was very reluctant to abandon her post, but I thought she ought to take a walk. Even though I promised to stand guard, I had to steer her out the door myself."

"I'm surprised your back is still intact," Gambit observed wryly.

Steed chuckled. "I suspect I'm not out of the woods yet. My timing in talking her into a reprieve has left much to be desired."

"I thought two gentlemen would know better than to talk about a lady behind her back." Both Gambit and Steed looked around in surprise to find Purdey leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"It's not our fault you mislabelled us," Gambit managed, willing his voice not to tremble with shock at the news about Vanessa as Purdey sauntered over to join them.

"It's very encouraging to hear that your incisiveness has survived this ordeal intact," Steed observed, smiling at each of his colleagues in turn before rising to his feet. "And now that you've returned, my dear, I think I'll take this opportunity to stretch my legs." He looked at Gambit and added, "I'll see you later."

Purdey and Gambit exchanged a look as Steed subtly excused himself, giving them the space they needed without being asked or even acknowledging that was what he was doing. It was classic Steed, and somehow more reassuring for it. Once the door had closed behind him, Purdey finally settled onto the edge of Gambit's bed, reached up to stroke his hair back from his forehead. Gambit sighed and leaned into her touch. He was tired and sore, but he'd felt worse. At least he knew he was alive, and everything in his body was still working, more or less.

And Purdey was there. That was the best part.

"Back in the Ministry's medical wing again," he observed, attempting to inject some, admittedly shaky, humour into the proceedings.

"Well, you are a regular customer. It wouldn't be right to take you anywhere else, since you seem so attached to the place," Purdey quipped, taking her cue and keeping up the banter to defuse the intensity of the emotions crackling between them.

"I wish I wasn't," Gambit said unenthusiastically, then eyed Purdey, who was running a finger along his chin, remarkably smooth after more than a day without shaving. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About fifteen hours," Purdey informed. "Although some of that's probably due to the sedative Kendrick gave you when he checked you over. The rest he put down to exhaustion."

"Was he on shaving duty, too?" Gambit queried, feeling Purdey's fingertip travel over his skin.

"That was me," Purdey supplied with a grin. "I wasn't going to let any of those pretty young nurses you're so fond of anywhere near that chin. And I managed to be gentle around the bruises."

"I'd rather have you do it any day," Gambit murmured appreciatively, reaching out to curl a hand around her waist and pull her closer, partly to check her for injuries. Even with Steed's assurances, he wanted to make sure she was all right for himself. He was relieved to find that, while she looked tired under the unforgiving lights, the parts of her he could see looked otherwise unharmed, and his touch failed to cause any flickers of discomfort or pain across her lovely features. "Have you slept at all since you found me?"

"Not at first," Purdey admitted, "but when Steed put his oar in, they gave me a blanket and a pillow so I could doze in the chair."

"Could've gone home," Gambit offered, hazarding a look at the chair. It didn't look particularly comfortable, even with a pillow and blanket, and he instantly felt guilty for Purdey having to spend the night in it on his account.

Purdey shook her head forcefully. "No, if I was going to sleep alone, I was going to do it in the same vicinity as you, at least. I'm not going anywhere, Mike Gambit, not without you." One side of her mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a building fell on me," Gambit said truthfully. "Not that I remember the impact. Just struggling with Vanessa for the detonator, then running through the warehouse and trying to protect you while it fell down around our ears."

"Yes, I remember your self-sacrificing idiocy as well," Purdey said tartly. "I also remember you giving me the fright of my life when you got stabbed, and then when we woke up, Steed was trying to keep you alive. I thought I'd lost you more than once!"

"I thought I was going to lose you, too," Gambit reminded, looking up at her with slightly-bleary eyes that Purdey belatedly realised were full of tears. "I set off the bomb to take away her leverage, and thought you'd get away in all the confusion. You should have just left me and made a run for it. If you'd died staying behind trying to save me, I could never have forgiven myself."

"Be that as it may, you should have known better than to try to force anyone's hand with a damnfool stunt, especially mine." A ghost of a smile appeared on Purdey's pale features.

Gambit chuckled and immediately regretted it as every bruise and stitch protested. "All right, all right, maybe I should have known you weren't going to leave until you wanted to, even if the whole building was falling down on your head. It was a tight spot and I was improvising. Can we say we both scared each other senseless and call it a draw?"

"A draw?" Purdey countered, outraged. "After I staggered out of that warehouse soaked in your blood?"

"All right, you win." Gambit took the hand that was now stroking his face and kissed it. "I'll make it up to you as soon as I can stand up without the room spinning."

"I expect dinner at the very least," Purdey said primly, as Gambit kissed her hand over and over. "But until you regain your balance, I see I'm going to have to come to you." She leaned down until her lips could meet his, closed her eyes as she kissed him so her tears of relief wouldn't drip onto his cheeks. Gambit, despite his headache, kissed back with fervour, raising one weary arm to bury his fingers in her hair. When they parted, he added, "Steed said you had something to tell me about the papers?"

Purdey bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at the door, checking to see if anyone might be able to overhear their conversation. Satisfied they were alone, she took Gambit's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We took care of them."

Gambit arched an interested eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Purdey shrugged nonchalantly. "Steed took them, and once we were a safe distance from Larry, we burned them."

Gambit blinked in surprise. "Burned them?"

"Yes," Purdey said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right there on the spot?" Gambit wasn't sure what he'd thought Purdey and Steed might do with the papers, but it definitely hadn't been that.

"Don't be ridiculous. You must have hit your head harder than they thought." Purdey looked annoyed at the assumption that she'd do anything as daft as destroy the evidence in front of witnesses. "We went outside, away from everyone else, and burnt them in a barrel." She smiled a little uncertainly. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" Gambit breathed a sigh of relief. "I've been responsible for those papers for so long, it's nice to have the decision taken out of my hands. I couldn't bring myself to destroy them after taking them out of circulation in the first place. I think I needed someone else to take the lead." He looked a little worried. "You're sure there were no witnesses?"

"Just Steed," Purdey said truthfully. "But as he was complicit in it, I don't think he'll talk."

Gambit let his eyes slide gently closed. "It really is over, then. Both Thyme and the papers are gone."

"That is what you wanted, isn't it?" Purdey still looked uncertain. "When I told you I was trading the papers for you back in that cell, well, I thought we were practicing our telepathy. I thought you were reading between the lines, and that you knew I'd never let anyone have them if I could help it, not really. Not Vanessa Thyme. Not the Ministry." Uncertainty turned to outrage. "You didn't think I'd actually turn them over, did you?"

"Easy, Purdey-girl," Gambit soothed, stroking her cheek. "Your signal came through loud and clear. But I thought I might have to, in spite of your best efforts. I'm just relieved it all went over without a hitch in the end."

Purdey snorted. "Only you'd say something like that while lying in a hospital bed. I do wonder about you sometimes, Mike Gambit."

"You know what I mean," Gambit grunted, shifting uncomfortably in his hospital bed. "Anyway, this is par for the course for me. If we wrote off every assignment that ends with me being laid up, we'd never have any kind of record to speak of."

"I don't need to be reminded," Purdey tsked, running her fingers through the mussed curls on the top of his head. "But I am glad it's finished. For your sake."

"And I wouldn't have been able to do it without you," Gambit assured. "Or at least, not without probably killing myself in the process."

"Don't even say that," Purdey said fiercely, blinking back tears. "That was never going to happen. I wouldn't let it."

"Not everything goes to plan," Gambit reminded gently, giving her hand a squeeze. "You know that as well as I do. But I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you."

"I'm sure I'll think of something," Purdey said brightly. "You can start as soon as you're out of that bed."

"Speaking of that, there's one more favour you can do for me," Gambit said tiredly, and Purdey could tell his strength was ebbing.

Purdey cocked her head quizzically. "Oh yes? What?"

"I want you to take me home."

"Nothing surprising about that," Purdey quipped.

"I didn't mean that," Gambit corrected with a small smile. "Or at least, not only that. But you know I hate being in hospital. Think you could work your charms on the doctor and get me discharged?"

"I know you've had a blow to the head when you start asking me to flirt with other men," Purdey joked, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "Only I don't know if you should be discharged. You've been through an awful lot. I don't want to wake up and find you've perished during the night because you let an irrational fear of disinfectant get the better of you."

Gambit pulled a face. "It's not that." Purdey looked at him incredulously. "Well, it's not only that. Come on, Purdey-girl. Have mercy."

"I'll talk to the doctor," Purdey said eventually. "Against my better judgment. But I'm not promising anything. And I'm leaving you unattended under protest. After all this, I don't know that I'll ever let you out of my sight again."

"Suits me," Gambit said flatly. "Thanks."

Purdey gave him a quick kiss. "I'll be back soon."

vvv

As it transpired, even Purdey's charms weren't equal to the stubbornness of the hospital staff, who insisted that Gambit be kept under observation for another 24 hours to ensure the blow to his head hadn't been more serious than they thought, or that some other injury didn't make itself known. Purdey took the response with rather more grace than Gambit himself, but proved more stubborn when it came to the question of her staying on overnight. Despite Gambit's assurances that he'd be fine and she could see him in the morning, Purdey refused to budge, opting to curl up next to him on the hospital bed. This led to more clashes with the nursing staff, before a détente was ultimately reached by allowing Purdey to have a cot in his room. That was why Gambit was now lying with his neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle, just so he could look at Purdey, curled up on the cot as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world, as she slept.

Gambit himself was tired, but couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Purdey had been through hell and back the past few weeks, all because of him, and she'd been with him every step of the way, fighting at his side, for him. Gambit had always been in love with Purdey, but their latest experience had only deepened his feelings, and reaffirmed Purdey's own for him. He smiled as he took in her beautiful, serene features, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her slightly parted lips and tousled blonde hair. He was enraptured once more by her strength, her beauty, her perseverance, her intelligence, and pondered, not for the first time since they got together, just how lucky he was. With this comforting thought in mind, he eventually drifted into sleep.

vvv

"Are you ready to go?" Purdey asked briskly, striding into Gambit's hospital room with a certain jauntiness.

Gambit picked up his jacket from where it was draped across his hospital bed and started shrugging it on. "Just about. Are you sure I'm allowed to leave? Or is Kendrick bound and gagged in a cupboard somewhere, mumbling about needing more tests?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Purdey tsked. "If I was going to waylay Kendrick, I wouldn't put him anywhere as obvious as a cupboard."

"No?" Gambit arched an eyebrow as he straightened his jacket on his shoulders. "Where, then? Under his desk? Our special padded room?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Purdey said coyly. "It wouldn't do to give away all my secrets." She paused, bit her lip, and looked Gambit up and down. He still looked too pale and tired for her liking. "Are you sure you're all right? I want you home as much as you do, but I don't want you to leave too early and wind up back here with something worse."

"I'll be all right," Gambit vowed, which wasn't a 'yes', Purdey couldn't help but notice. "A few days in my own bed with you nursing me are just what I need."

"You do sound like you're feeling better," Purdey said wryly, admitting to herself that this was one battle she wasn't going to win. "Should I get the car?"

"Yeah." Gambit's face was grim, and his jaw was set as if for battle. "But we need to stop off somewhere first. There's someone I need to see."

vvv

"You're sure about this?" Purdey murmured, regarding the white-shrouded figure laid out on the slab with more than a hint of trepidation. Even dead and obscured, Vanessa Thyme still made her uneasy. She could almost feel the woman's malice radiating off her body, even in death.

Gambit looked nearly as sick with anticipation as she did, but he nodded nonetheless. "I need to see for myself," he said firmly, but his voice was hoarse. "Not that I don't take you and Steed at your word. But even if she is dead, she won't be dead in my head until I clap my eyes on her."

Purdey swallowed hard, but nodded. "I understand. You need closure. Do you want me to wait outside?" she offered.

"No, I'd rather you stayed," Gambit said quietly, voice shaking a little, then flashed her a quick smile to allay the alarm that flashed across her face at his tone. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't," Purdey assured, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Whenever you're ready."

Gambit squeezed back, took a deep breath, then nodded at the morgue attendant to draw back the sheet.

Gambit wasn't entirely certain what he expected to see when the cloth was pulled away. Part of him still wasn't sure he'd believe Vanessa was dead even once he'd laid eyes on the body. Part of him expected that Vanessa would rise from the slab like a zombie, held together by grotesque stitches, body irreparably broken, but still capable of crawling toward him, dragging herself forward, fuelled by sheer rage and bloody-mindedness. He could feel his stomach recoil at the thought, a lurid image of rotting flesh and unearthly, jerking movements flashing through his mind. He blindly squeezed Purdey's hand harder than he intended. He realised, distractedly, in the one part of his brain that was still capable of logical thought, that Purdey's appendage was probably having the life crushed out of it, but if he was hurting her, she didn't complain. Not for the first time, Gambit said a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that Purdey understood what he was going through, but he made a conscious effort to try to reduce the pressure on her hand.

In the end, the reveal was anti-climactic, almost laughably so. What the morgue attendant revealed was neither horrific nor tinged with the supernatural. The figure lying on the slab was undoubtedly, irrefutably, mortal. Human. A shadow of what it had been in life. Gambit could still see, or imagined he could, the cruelty and malice etched across the features now in repose. But the intent behind them—the intelligence, the plotting, the capacity to cause pain—had vanished, evaporated into the ether. What now lay before him was a pale, broken shell, with features that had once been coldly beautiful, now rendered cold and stiff. She looked pitiful, pathetic, a wretch with so little connection to humanity that the only human being who could properly identify her body, at least in the immediate vicinity, was Gambit, a man she had tortured without mercy. It was a strange brainwave to have, that he was the closest the woman had to family, had probably spent more time with her in those hellish three months than she had any other human being. It was a sad conclusion to draw, but not so much so that Gambit pitied the woman. She'd made her own decisions, her own choices, had chosen her path without anyone forcing it on her. There was no way of knowing what kind of background she'd had, of course, since her name was undoubtedly a pseudonym. But Gambit hadn't exactly had a rosy childhood himself, and he'd still chosen not to become a criminal, or a sadist. There was always an opportunity to choose, no matter what cards a person was dealt. Vanessa had chosen a path that led her to where she was now lying. And Gambit had chosen one that had led him to Purdey. And at that moment, Gambit chose to close the book on Vanessa, the cell, and the whole sorry chapter of his existence that had caused him and those he loved so much pain. He would always be affected by his experiences, but he would no longer be affected by her. Finally, finally, she could no longer reach him. He felt no more fear.

"Okay," Gambit said finally, releasing Purdey's hand as he felt a certain peace wash over him. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Purdey wanted to know, surreptitiously shaking the feeling back into her hand. "I thought you might need more time."

"So did I," Gambit confessed, already turning his back on Vanessa, on the past. "But it's over now. It's time to move on to better things." He eyed her meaningfully.

Purdey's face split into a brilliant grin. "That, Mike Gambit," she declared, "is one of the most sensible things you've said." She wrapped an arm around his waist and started helping him out the door.

"Yeah," Gambit agreed, feeling his spirit lift as he left the room. "I know."