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!" Purdey exclaimed in surprise when she answered Gambit's door and found the senior agent on the other side.

"Hello, Purdey. I thought I'd check on the patient." He craned his neck so that he could look around Purdey and peer into the flat. "How is he?"

"Complaining about being forced to sit in bed and recuperate, as usual," Purdey informed wryly, but the smile on her lips told Steed that she was more than happy to endure Gambit's grumbling, given the alternative.

"Is that Steed?" came Gambit's voice from behind her. "What does he want?"

"To bring you dinner." Steed lifted a hamper into view, and knew he didn't imagine the way Purdey's eyes lit up at the sight of it. "I thought you might save Purdey the trouble of spending the evening in the kitchen." He aimed his dancing eyes at Purdey. "How does that sound?"

"Heavenly. Come in." Purdey couldn't stand aside fast enough, and Steed was barely inside before the door was closed behind him and she was dashing to the kitchen for plates.

Gambit was lying on the retracted couch-cum-bed, a book lying open on his lap. He was still quite pale, but Steed thought there was a touch more colour in his cheeks than there had been in the hospital, and as he observed Gambit watching Purdey rifling through the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen with a serene expression on his face, Steed had no doubts as to its cause. "A visitor from the outside world," Gambit greeted Steed, tearing his eyes away from Purdey with difficulty as that worthy settled onto the edge of the bed, hamper in tow. He winked conspiratorially at Steed. "Do we have flying cars yet?"

"You've only been in here for two days," Purdey chided, trundling over laden with a small stack of plates and a fistful of cutlery. "You act as thought you've been given a life sentence at Borstal."

"Bet they let you get your own water at Borstal," Gambit muttered, putting the book aside and taking the stack of plates Purdey handed to him.

"I don't want you to overexert yourself and pop your stitches," Purdey defended, climbing onto the bed beside him and watching Steed unbuckle the straps on the hamper with a greedy light in her eyes. "It's for your own good, unless you want to pay a return visit to Kendrick, and we both know how much you'd enjoy that." She wrinkled her nose at Gambit as he handed over a plate upon which he had apportioned the requisite cutlery, then turned beseechingly to the older man. "Steed, tell him!"

"Given all the excitement we've been having lately," Steed began, lifting the lid on the wicker basket, "I think Purdey's entitled to ask you to look after yourself, for her own nerves as much as your well-being." He took a packet out of the recesses within the hamper and handed it to Gambit, trading it for his own cutlery and plate. "Those are the sandwiches."

"I know," Gambit sighed resignedly, unwrapping the package dutifully. "I'm sorry everyone had to go through all that on my account. I just hate being stuck here, feeling helpless."

"Well, then, here's your chance to do something proactive." Steed handed off a container to Purdey. "That's the curried chicken. This isn't only a social call. We need to get our ducks in a row." He looked sternly from one of his colleagues to the other. "Have you started your reports?"

"I keep trying," Gambit said with a sigh, arranging the sandwiches on the plate. "But I can't work out where to start. I've been tangled up in the whole thing for so long. It goes well beyond what's happened the past few weeks. But the farther back I go, the greater the risk that I'll wind up saying something that contradicts what I said in the report I wrote for the military. And I definitely don't want to say something that'll get you two in trouble."

"Perhaps it'll help to talk it through then," Steed offered, balancing a small basket of strawberries on top of Gambit's closed book. "There is going to be rather a lot of questions and we need to answer as many of them satisfactorily as possible. I suggest a council of war."

"Against our own side?" Purdey exclaimed around a mouthful of sandwich, then swallowed before continuing. "I thought we were past all that by now. I'm sick to my back teeth of looking over my shoulder because Larry or someone else might be plotting our downfall." She stared down morosely at the cucumber sandwich in her hands. "It doesn't do much for the ego. Or morale."

"But it is necessary. One's own side is often the most dangerous opponent of all." Steed pulled a bottle of champagne out of the hamper and examined the label with unadulterated pleasure. "Vanessa Thyme may be dead, but she caused an awful lot of trouble for Gambit before she went, and for us by proxy for assisting him. We need to ensure our stories line up, or even McKay will have no choice but to level some rather alarming charges at us."

"Oh." Purdey slumped glumly, completely losing interest in the sandwich in her hand. "I'd sort of forgotten about the fallout. I'm just so happy Gambit made it out alive."

Gambit managed to detach one of her hands from the sandwich long enough to give it an appreciative squeeze. "Cheer up, Purdey-girl. Steed wouldn't be here if he didn't have a plan."

Purdey perked up instantly, big blue eyes lighting up. "Do you?"

Steed chuckled at her eagerness as he held out the strawberries for her, urging her to take one with the smallest of gestures. "I ought to. I haven't spent the past two days packing this hamper." He assessed the spread in his hamper with a modicum of dismay. "If I had, I would have brought some more plates."

"I'll get some," Gambit volunteered, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed with Purdey's cautioning yelp for accompaniment. "I'm just going to the kitchen," Gambit soothed, one hand resting protectively against his wounded side as he stood. "I think I can make it there and back again without keeling over."

"I wouldn't lay any money on it," Purdey said tartly, watching his progress with a jaded eye to disguise the worried one.

"It's a damn sight better bet than those horses you keep foisting on me," Gambit teased, opening the cupboard and taking out some more of his signature black plates. "What's the first item on the agenda?" he asked Steed as he returned to their bed-picnic and settled himself gingerly back onto the mattress.

"Well, as Purdey and your cousin have done an admirable job of clearing your name regarding your unusual movements and those highly suspect bank accounts and the like," Steed began, taking the plates from Gambit with a gracious nod, "our job is made infinitely easier."

Despite Steed's presence, and Purdey's usual reticence regarding public displays of affection, Gambit leaned over and gave Purdey a quick kiss on the cheek, as her mouth was currently diverted by her previously abandoned sandwich. "Thanks for that, Purdey-girl."

"I hope you thank Sara as well," Purdey reminded, trying not to blush upon seeing the small smirk that twitched Steed's lips at the gesture. "She worked as hard to save your neck as I did, only she did it from behind the scenes. I don't think I could have done it without her."

"Sara'll call in a favour and get her own back one of these days," Gambit said knowingly. "How do you think I would up doing all that 'unofficial' work for MI6 in the first place?"

"While we're on that particular topic," Steed cut in, gently but firmly steering the conversation back to the subject at hand, "given that so many of Gambit's, shall we say, 'forays' were sanctioned by other individuals with connections to the intelligences services, I suspect the recriminations for those particular extracurriculars will be minimal, particularly since they were on Gambit's own time, rather than the Ministry'."

"Lucky boy," Purdey observed pertly, voice slightly muffled due to her head being submerged as she dug around in Steed's box of delights. She surfaced, looking infinitely more cheerful, clutching preserves, clotted cream, and a bag of scones.

"Lucky girl," Gambit returned, as Purdey laid her treasures out on the mattress with relish, before rummaging in the hamper and coming up with a small, delicate knife suited for the art of scone slicing. "So, if my hobbies aren't the problem, what is?"

"Several things, not least of which is the fate of the papers," Steed explained, with a gravity that caused Purdey to slice her scone rather unevenly as she winced at the mere mention of the source of all their troubles. "Namely, how we disposed of them, how they were handled by ourselves and our various allies, and especially the fact that Gambit didn't turn them over after he was rescued, despite express orders to do so."

Purdey laid the two halves of the scone carefully on her plate. "There's very little we can do about that," she observed sourly, dipping the knife in the cream and spreading it on the scone with exaggerated precision, which only served to emphasise how worried she was. "Even if Gambit wanted to turn them in, which he didn't, the papers are gone, and there's no coming back from that. Not unless he made copies." She turned to look inquisitively at Gambit. "You didn't make copies?" she asked, rather sharply, alarm creeping into her voice.

Gambit held up his hands defensively. "No, thanks. One copy of those damn things was more than enough."

Purdey relaxed visibly, tense lines smoothing away from her countenance like a sandcastle being swept away by the sea. "Good," she said succinctly, reaching for one of the egg sandwiches and pressing it forcefully into his hands. "You should eat something."

Gambit flashed her one of his lightning quick smiles, the sort that he used when he wasn't actually happy with whatever was going on, but social niceties dictated it was the right thing to do. "That still leaves us back where we started," he reasoned, hurriedly relocating the sandwich to a plate before it could drip its contents all over the sofa covering and his trousers. "From what you told me, the papers are just ash now. There really isn't a way to put them back together again, not that I particularly want there to be."

"There isn't," Steed agreed, dipping his finger in the clotted cream despite Purdey's hiss of disapproval. "Unless, of course, they never existed to begin with." He reached into the hamper as he licked the cream from his finger, held out a jar of preserves. "I suggest the strawberry rather than the raspberry."

"Never existed!" Purdey exclaimed, food temporarily forgotten as she waved her knife about excitedly, but somehow her hand still managed to clamp around Steed's offering. "But Steed, we held them. We saw them!"

"Yes, we did," Steed agreed, helping himself to a strawberry and dipping it in the cream. "But did anyone else look at them? Really look?" He was focussing intently on Purdey now, holding her gaze. "Miss Lynley, your uncle, anyone else who might have handled them-did any of them actually read the contents?"

"Of course not!" Purdey bellowed, bristling while also doing a stunningly good impersonation of her Uncle Elly. "If they were as dangerous as Gambit made out, and from the little bit I gathered when I skimmed them before sending that package off to Uncle Elly—" She broke off as Gambit choked violently on the bite of egg sandwich he'd risked taking while Purdey was talking.

"You read the papers?" he croaked, incredulous and horrified in equal measure.

"Of course I read them," Purdey said matter-of-factly. "I'd already heard so much about them from you, and I was the one keeping them safe. I thought that I had a right. You can't fault a girl for being curious."

"So you've seen what's in them?" Gambit went on, discarding the sandwich and gratefully taking the cup of tea that Steed offered, poured from a thermos that had miraculously appeared from the depths of the hamper. He took a drink to clear out his windpipe before continuing. "Purdey, what if Larry finds out that out saw them, that you read them?"

"I didn't read the whole thing," Purdey countered impatiently. "Amongst other things, I didn't have enough time. But I did read enough to come to the same conclusion as you, that they shouldn't be spread far and wide. I only unwrapped them to take some pages out for insurance. The rest of the time they were wrapped up. I would have known if someone had gone through them. Anyway, if even you didn't know that I'd read them, then how on earth would Larry find out that I had?"

"Which rather proves my point, or the point I was about to make." Steed held the basket out to her with one hand, refilling Gambit's tea with the other. "Excellent work, Purdey. Have another strawberry."

"Then what," Gambit asked patiently, still looking rather stressed about Purdey's peek at the papers, and Steed recognised, much to his dismay, that the younger man's strength for this particular conversation was limited and dwindling fast, egg sandwich aside, "is the point?"

"It's quite simple," Steed said, with fitting simplicity, cutting to the chase for the sake of the flagging man. "If no one actually saw the papers—or, at the very least, they can't prove that anyone did-then how can they prove that Gambit had them in the first place?"

The light dawned in Gambit's eyes. "I only told you and Purdey that I had them. For all anyone knows, I went back to Africa to try to find where I'd buried them, and failed. They were lost."

"But Vanessa Thyme would never have believed that," Purdey chimed in, picking up the thread. "She might have killed you, or me, or Steed, or anyone to try to force Gambit's hand, until he did turn them over. So Gambit pretended to have them so he'd have something to bargain with until he could work out how to stop her."

"And if she was going to believe they existed, everyone else had to as well," Steed finished. "Larry, McKay, even Miss Lynley. Otherwise it wouldn't be believable."

"A perfect ring of Gyges," Gambit marvelled at Steed. "I can't be punished for holding onto something I never had, anymore than you and Purdey can be punished for destroying it."

"Do you think they'll believe it?" Purdey wanted to know, almost slopping her preserves onto her dress in excitement.

Steed shrugged. "They have no evidence to prove Gambit ever had the papers. They can search for them all they like, but they'll never find them. All we have to do is make sure that anyone who might have had occasion to handle the papers confirms our story that they never actually bothered to check that they were the genuine article, and make certain that our reports are quite clear on the fact that the three of us were aware that they didn't exist, but feigned their existence for leverage purposes. That way, no one can be accused of holding back classified information from the proper authorities."

"Steed, that is brilliant!" Purdey crawled across the bed and threw her arms around Steed's neck in a tight embrace, narrowly avoiding sloshing the thermos of hot tea onto Gambit's thigh in the process.

Steed patted Purdey's back fondly. "Oh, I don't know. Just rather a lot of experience at work."

"And modesty." Purdey pulled back, smiling brilliantly, climbing back across the bed to her now-celebratory scone. "That's that taken care of. What's next?"

"Well, returning to Gambit—" Steed began.

"It all seems to be all about Gambit of late," Purdey observed wryly, rescrewing the lid for the jar of preserves Steed had handed her and sucking a bit of strawberry jam from her finger. "Though with his ego, I don't imagine he minds."

"Not the kind of attention I enjoy," Gambit demurred tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sorting out the business with papers had already drained more of his strength than he liked to admit. "I was happy being anonymous before all this kicked off."

"I don't think you were ever anonymous," Purdey quipped, raising her scone to her lip before fluttering her eyelashes at him coquettishly. "Not to me, anyway."

"I'll take that," Gambit said with a secretive smile, then sobered up when Steed cleared his throat, much to Purdey's amusement. "What else do we need to work out, Steed?"

"Explaining away the papers was the easy part." Steed looked pointedly at Purdey to make sure she was paying attention. "Now for the bad news. Gambit evading arrest can't be helped, I'm afraid, although we can frame it as a necessary evil to ensure the eventual downfall of Miss Thyme, which is also, rather helpfully, the truth. But I suggest we leave out that Purdey was the person responsible for alerting Gambit to his imminent capture. And I certainly hope, Mike, that you don't plan to mention Purdey's rendezvous with you while you were on the run?"

"I think it's safe to say I'd already struck that part out of the report," Gambit said wryly, picking distractedly at his sandwich.

Steed turned his attention to Purdey. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you to be discreet in that regard as well, Purdey. You're not to give them any indication that you warned Gambit or had any contact with him while he was on the run." He paused thoughtfully and then added, "I should leave out that you've been making a habit of intentionally giving our security team the slip as well."

Purdey smiled unrepentantly. "It's not my fault if they were occasionally distracted."

"Or deceived," Steed corrected, and Purdey shrugged unconcernedly in response and went back to her scone. "As for myself, I'll be similarly oblique regarding the part I played in ensuring that Gambit had advanced warning of his arrest, but I'll be up-front about passing along Larry's report. McKay should never have bowed to Larry's request to keep it under wraps in the first place." He shook his head in unspoken dismay at what he perceived to be an unfortunate decision on their superior's part. "Purdey, I'd encourage you to be similarly honest about trying to clear Gambit's name. McKay can't punish you overly for attempting to bring some balance to the whole affair. Heaven knows Larry was no more objective than you."

Purdey seemed unfazed by the prospect, though her grip on her scone tightened to such an extent that a few pieces crumbled onto her plate. "If McKay or Larry have anything to say on that front, I'll have a few things to say in return."

Gambit snorted. "I'm sure you will."

Purdey shot Gambit a look, but didn't comment. "That's everything, isn't it? We should come out of this all right."

"Not quite," Steed cautioned, even more deadly serious than before. "Even if we deny everything that can plausibly denied, there is no denying that Gambit did go on the run to evade arrest, and frustrated the proper channels of investigation. Just as there's no denying that you, Purdey, were biased in Gambit's favour and actively worked at cross-purposes with Larry's investigation. And even if they can't specifically prove all of the ways that you worked against your own side, Larry will certainly be able to make very convincing counter-arguments that you were, in fact, in contact with Gambit long before he turned himself in."

"There's no evidence of that!" Purdey exclaimed, outraged, scone suddenly forgotten, held halfway to her lips.

"But there's no evidence that you didn't do it, either," Gambit pointed out grimly, paling noticeably before Purdey's eyes, much to her distress. "And given everything they can prove we did do, it might be more of a case of guilty until proven innocent instead of the other way around."

"And all of that excitement aside," Steed added, coughing delicately, "there's still the rather pressing matter of your recent, ah, involvement."

Purdey frown deepened, concern heaping on concern. "Do you think McKay's going to be difficult about it?"

"I'm afraid that, coupled with your other misdemeanours, it may be enough to tip the scales in an unfavourable direction," Steed said truthfully, in a tone that Purdey knew from experience meant he was very serious indeed. "I know he's requested that the pair of you turn in your reports to him personally, together, and I've a shrewd feeling it isn't for a debriefing."

Gambit was working his jaw the way he did when he was really worried. "Do you think I should resign and save him the trouble?"

"Gambit!" Purdey whirled on him in alarm. "What on earth would possess you to say something like that?"

"Realism." Gambit looked meaningfully at Purdey. "We knew this was a risk, Purdey. That's part of the reason we kept it quiet in the first place."

"Yes, but McKay wouldn't sack us over it," Purdey protested, looking imploringly at Steed. "Would he?"

Steed sighed. "I can't claim to foresee every move Tommy makes. But you must understand his position. His job is to have the best interests of the department at heart. If he feels the pair of you are a threat to its workings, he's dutybound to act."

"Yes, but we're not a risk," Purdey protested. "I—"

"Just broke all the rules to get me out of trouble," Gambit finished tiredly, pushing his sandwich plate aside and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stave off a burgeoning headache. "After I broke all the rules to get into it in the first place, including allegedly keeping classified documents out of Ministry custody, which he might believe I did no matter how well our stories stand up." He turned to Steed, who worked hard not to react to how dark the circles under Gambit's eyes looked against the shocking paleness of his skin. "I'll say it again-should I resign now, or does McKay want the satisfaction of dressing me down first?"

Purdey looked incredulously from Gambit, who reburied himself in his hands, to Steed. "I still can't believe McKay would ask us to resign just because we're involved," she railed, but there was a sense that she was trying to convince herself more than them.

"It's entirely possible that he may not ask," Steed warned, and Purdey looked triumphantly to Gambit as he surfaced from his hands. "He may make the decision for you by having you dismissed."

"That's ridiculous!" Purdey exclaimed shrilly. Gambit's reaction was infinitely quieter, but if it were possible, he actually got paler.

"It may very well be, but that doesn't make it impossible," Steed said levelly, not wanting Purdey to take the prospect lightly. "I don't think he has enough evidence to warrant charges, which is very lucky indeed. But it's entirely possible he may see fit to take action of some kind. Reassignment is also a very real possibility. If not to another department, then to new partners."

"New partners?" Purdey looked even horrified at the prospect than she had at the idea of being sacked. "He can't possibly think it's a good idea to have us work with someone else, not after all the success we've had." She crossed her arms indignantly, looked from one partner to the other. "We're a team. I couldn't possibly work as well with anyone but you two, even if I imagine your egos will inflate to ridiculous proportions now that I've said that." She turned to Gambit, gripped his shoulder in a desperate attempt to make him see. "Gambit, you wouldn't want to work with anyone else, would you?"

"No," Gambit acknowledged wearily, "but I might not have a choice. Anyway, McKay wouldn't have to split us all up. He only has to take you or me out of the equation. One of us could stick with Steed." He looked meaningfully at Steed. "That's how it would work, isn't it? He'd have to take us right out of your stable to keep us from being paired off by you behind his back."

"I rather expect he would anticipate that, yes," Steed confirmed with a poignant smile.

"It's a bit like a professional divorce, Purdey-girl," Gambit quipped sadly. "We have to decide who gets to keep Steed."

"This entire scenario is ridiculous!" Purdey cried, sulking spectacularly. "I am not going to let us be dismantled like some sort of Scalextric set." She picked up the knife she'd used to spread cream over her scone, wiped a little of it off with her finger and sucked it thoughtfully. "We're going to fight this," she declared, jabbing the knife at Gambit for emphasis, causing him to cringe away as his stitches reminded him of his encounter with another, much sharper blade. "We are not going to be sacked and we are not going to be split up. You and I, Mike Gambit, are going to fight our corner."

"Are you sure you're not just worried about finding out who Steed would pick if he had to choose?" Gambit teased as best he could with the little remaining strength he had, carefully pushing Purdey's knife so that it was pointing away from him.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Purdey scoffed. "Steed's too much of a gentleman to play favourites."

"Are you sure about that?" Gambit turned a knowing grin on Steed. "Steed, ever given any thought to who you'd pick for your team if you had to choose?'

"I'd always planned on leaving the pair of you to carry on as a unit in my stead," Steed confessed. "That was my intention when I brought Purdey on as a permanent addition to the team. I confess this does rather throw a spanner in the works."

"Then tell McKay that," Purdey suggested sourly. "And anyway, it's always first in, first out. You and Gambit have been working together far longer than I have. I still don't know when you're practising your telepathy half the time. I can't compete with that."

"That's funny. I was about to say the same about your brain," Gambit put in, then added cheekily, "And your legs."

"You also have nice legs," Purdey said brightly.

Steed held up calming hands. "I have no desire to choose between the pair of you. I put you together because your skills complimented one another, and I'll make that abundantly clear to McKay. But the pair of you will, as Purdey said, have to fight your corner, because I can guarantee you will be called to the carpet and asked to explain yourselves and why you ought to be allowed to carry on, both as a team and in the department."

"Carry on carrying on, you mean," Gambit corrected, earning a tsk from Purdey.

"Really, Mike Gambit." Purdey shook her head derisively and turned back to Steed. "We'll think on it, Steed. Thank you for warning us."

"My pleasure," Steed replied warmly, with a slight incline of the head. "And I'd like you both to know that, no matter what might transpire, you will always have my friendship." Purdey and Gambit both bestowed him with appreciative smiles, but Steed extended his hand with another prize in mind. "Now if you don't mind, I'd rather like a turn with the cream."