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 walked into Gambit's flat the following afternoon and nearly dropped the bag of groceries she was carrying. "Mike Gambit, what are you doing?"

Gambit was in the middle of the flat's living area, all furniture pushed back to clear an open space. He was dressed only in a pair of loose-fitting drawstring cotton trousers, midway through what was obviously a workout. He froze guiltily mid-kata, and turned to flash an uneasy smile at the fuming Purdey. "Hello, Purdey," he greeted, in that overly cheery way he used when he knew he was in trouble with her for some reason or another, and was hoping against all hope that he might just be able to head her ire off at the pass. "I was, uh, feeling a bit restless and thought I'd get the blood flowing again," he explained, sheepishly, sweat-soaked dark curly head already ducking as if in anticipation of having something thrown at it.

"Flowing from where? The large hole in your side?" Purdey replied sharply, stalking across the flat to set the groceries on the bar before rounding on him once more. "I thought I told you to rest."

"I have been resting," Gambit justified. "But I was going mad lying around all day."

Purdey snorted. "You're definitely mad," she muttered.

"It was just moving about a bit," Gambit grumbled irritably. "I also made myself a sandwich, but I don't think I overtaxed myself."

"I'm surprised you haven't popped your stitches yet," Purdey continued tartly, unwilling to let the matter drop quite that easily. Her eyes fell to the lint standing out starkly against the glistening flesh of his sweat-covered torso. "What if you had and you'd started bleeding out, all alone? No one would have found you for ages."

Gambit sighed and flicked some sweat from his forehead. "Purdey…" he said tiredly.

"Not to mention the fact that we have our meeting with McKay tomorrow," Purdey ploughed on, anxiety written across her features. "You should be saving your strength, not wasting it."

Gambit started moving toward her. "Purdey…"

"We're going to have a hard enough time making our case without you wearing yourself out. What if you'd gotten weak and collapsed and hit your head? What then?"

"Purdey!" Gambit didn't shout, but raised his voice enough to get her attention, just as he stepped in close to take her hand. He held her gaze, eyes gentle, smile reassuring. "Kendrick checked me over an hour ago and said it was all right for me to take a little exercise. In fact, he more or less ordered me to move about a bit to help the healing process, and to coax anything up that's still in my lungs."

Purdey's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "An hour ago? I was here an hour ago."

"You were here just over an hour ago," Gambit corrected. "This was shortly after you left."

Purdey looked him up and down, taking in the slightly sweat-soaked cotton trousers, bare feet, attractively mussed dark curly hair, and naked chest. Her gaze lingered just a touch too long on the latter, eyes travelling a path that traced every curve and contour of his musculature, which, Purdey noted with approval, looked a little more robust than it had a few days ago when she had helped him wash. The fact that the bruises were starting to fade, especially the particularly deep ones that had been painted in livid shades of purple and blue that, in poor light, had reminded Purdey viscerally of open wounds, added to her more positive assessment of his well-being. Overall, he looked stronger, exuding health and vigour where a scant few days ago he had been brought to his knees, sometimes literally, by weakness, pain, and fatigue. There was even a light in his eyes that she hadn't realised had been missing until that moment, a glint of mischief that, in the right situation, could be turned into defiance. She wondered if the workout might have done him some good, in spite of her worries, whether it might have reconnected him to a body that he had been almost in the process of losing, or at the very least divorced from, in an effort to detach himself from the pain it had endured, and was still enduring. She also thought, with a touch of internal preening, that her tireless efforts to foist food on the man, despite his protestations about a lack of appetite, were paying dividends, and were playing no small part in his newfound physicality. While still thinner than his not-particularly-heavy normal weight, the muscles beneath his skin were not alarmingly visible the way they had been just a few short days ago, and his ribs, which had stood out rather frighteningly when he moved in certain ways, were also better concealed. He wasn't up to full strength, not by any stretch of the imagination, a state of affairs painfully reinforced by a single glimpse at the lint still taped to his side, now a fresh bright white that reinforced his assertion that it had been recently treated and redressed. But he did look as though he had some fight in him, after having so much of his life force drained away by the ordeal they'd endured. Given what Steed had told them only the day before, he was going to need all the fight he could muster. Purdey couldn't help but wonder if that had been his impetus for going behind her back and getting Kendrick's blessing to start working out. Maybe feeling physically fit would prime him for the battle of wits and words to come.

That was one mystery solved. There was still one in the offing.

"Mike Gambit," Purdey began, crossing her arms expectantly. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you managed to get washed and dressed, go to the Ministry, get checked out, return to your flat, get changed, and workout in the time I was out?"

"No," Gambit explained, with a small glint in his eye that told Purdey he was rather enjoying her incredulity. "Because I didn't have to get ready to go out."

Purdey eyed Gambit's trousers with less lasciviousness and more practicality. "That's rather casual attire to wear to the Ministry, even for someone on leave."

"I didn't go to the Ministry," Gambit explained patiently. "I rang and asked Kendrick to make a house call."

Purdey's eyebrow arched at that, intrigued and amused in spite of her pique. "I didn't know Kendrick made house calls."

"Neither did I, but I couldn't very well go to him. It's too far to walk, you took all my car keys to keep me from driving, the Ministry won't let cabs into the car park, and I wasn't desperate enough to take a bus. So I called and he came. I think he was glad to get out for a bit, to be honest. I know how he feels." He paused for a moment, and Purdey could tell he was debating whether or not to say the next words that came out of his mouth. "He, uh, also said that he knew I must have an ulterior motive for voluntarily getting a check-up, because I never have before. He's always had to chase me down, even for serious injuries. I knew better than to lie to him."

Purdey twisted her lips unhappily. "Because you wanted him to approve of your ridiculous notion that you needed to risk popping your stitches to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to confront McKay."

Gambit smiled crookedly at her. "Am I that transparent?"

"You are to me," Purdey said bluntly, arms crossed.

"And Kendrick, apparently," Gambit supplemented wryly, with a small shake of his head. "He must have approved, though, because he wouldn't have told me to exercise otherwise. After all the years we've known each other, I know better than to expect Kendrick to tell me what he wants to hear."

"And he knows better than to expect you to follow his advice, no matter how sensible," Purdey cut in.

Gambit actually laughed at that, bandaged side moving up and down with mirth. "True. We're both too damned stubborn for our own good. We'll probably hold out until one of us retires."

"Or gets dismissed," Purdey remarked sharply, then instantly regretted it when dismay flashed across Gambit's face. She opened her mouth to take it back, but his shoulders had already slumped a little, as though some of the air had been taken out, and she knew the damage had been done.

"Yeah," Gambit confirmed grimly, pressing a hand to his injured side in a way that suggested it was suddenly hurting him in a way that it previously hadn't. Purdey, despite her concerns and a valiant attempt to convince herself otherwise, had to admit to herself that it probably wasn't due to the workout. "There must be a hell of a lot of chatter going through the Ministry grapevine, because even Kendrick seemed to know we were facing long odds. He wouldn't give me his blessing to work out if it wasn't accurate, but I think he knew I needed the go-ahead. Hell, that's probably why he broke with protocol and made a house call." Gambit passed a weary hand over his still-sweat-beaded forehead. "He made some half-joke about this being the last time he'd see me for this injury, if past precedent was anything to go by, but I got the sense that he thought he might not see me again ever. Full stop. I know I dodge my medical, but I still see him in the hallway once in awhile, when there isn't a convenient door to duck into and hide." He laughed a little, but it was a sad laugh this time around. "I never thought I'd miss being chased down by Kendrick, but who'd have guessed he'd get sentimental about the idea of never patching me up again? We must both be going soft."

"In the head," Purdey cracked, but she couldn't ignore the awful knot that was forming in her stomach. As Gambit had said, Dr. James Kendrick was nothing if not a straight shooter. He wasn't unkind, but he didn't lie to his patients about the condition they were in. He was a believer in giving people the facts as he knew them, and the majority of the time, they were dead on the money. If his prognosis for Gambit's career was anything like the ones he regularly doled out for his patients, then Gambit's job, and by association, her own, was in a very precarious state.

Gambit must have sensed her unease, or at the very least read her glum expression, because he brightened up, albeit with difficulty. "I'm okay," he reassured, in a tone intended to buoy both of their spirits. "Really."

Purdey was eyeing him uncertainly, eyes flicking to the lint taped to his side, as though she expected it to blossom with crimson at any moment. "Are you sure?" she said finally, voice softer and more vulnerable than she would have liked.

Gambit stepped in close. "I'm sure," he said, just as softly, hands resting themselves lightly on the curve of her waist. "And I can prove it."

"Prove it?" Purdey repeated faintly. In such close proximity to Gambit, her gaze had suddenly become riveted by his mouth, and just how soft and pouty his lips looked. How kissable.

"If you insist," Gambit quipped, ducking his head to kiss her deeply.

Purdey breathed in deeply, inhaling Gambit's scent as her eyes flew closed, focussing on that ne wonderful sense as her hands reached up to automatically tangle in his untidy, curly hair. Oh, she loved the scent of Gambit's sweat, musky and masculine and not the least bit unpleasant. Raw and unrefined, it soaked through even when he was wearing a suit, a wildness beneath the pinstripes that stirred something almost primal in her soul. Gambit always seemed to be moving, whether it was from fighting or running or working out, things she associated with him in the field. She'd added sex to that list recently, and it had only reinforced how much it turned her on, how much she loved Gambit when he was at his most relaxed and natural, when he let his hair curl the way it was meant to and trundled around in a casual shirt and trousers. Not that she was particularly averse to his body in a well-tailored suit and cleaned up to his professional best. But she'd seen disproportionately less of this Gambit in her time with him, and to her it was still a particular treat to have the more casual version at her convenience, an indulgence that she had yet to grow sick of.

Gambit's hands slid down her waist, over her bottom, to the backs of her thighs, even as she sucked the sweat from his lips, savouring his salty tang on her tongue. Without opening her eyes, she felt him press her against the counter, as if in anticipation of lifting her up, and Purdey sent her hands flying instinctively to stay his own before he got any ideas, saving him from the potential stitch-popping strain of picking her up. Gambit chuckled into her mouth. "Don't think I'm up to it?" he murmured, mock-offended.

"Yes. No. I mean—" She broke away from him with difficulty, tearing her mouth from his despite wanting to carry on kissing him with every fibre of her being. She was almost drunk with lust, she realised, when she settled her unfocussed gaze on him, watched his handsome visage dance before her crossed eyes while her blood pounded in her ears and her body fizzled with excitement. She wanted him desperately, not only because they'd been denied that particularly intimate connection for a prolonged period due to events, but also because she wanted to do something purely for her own selfish happiness, without having to worry about repercussions of any kind, without having to be so bloody responsible. And at that moment, immersing herself in Gambit and everything he had to offer felt like the perfect way to do that. She craved the comfort and reassurance of his touch, the sensations she knew he could elicit with it. But, at the same time, there was a little voice at the back of her mind that would not, despite her body's selfish efforts to silence it, let her forget about his side or his only partially recovered, still-fragile strength. "I don't think this is what Kendrick meant by 'light exercise'," she blurted out, words tumbling over one another in her hurry to get them out before her lips could betray her and seal themselves to his once more.

Gambit responded with a throaty chuckle, which rumbled through Purdey's body in turn, rattling her already shaky bones to the point that she felt ready to collapse in an undignified heap. "Knowing me as well as he does, that might be exactly what he meant."

"Be that as it may," Purdey managed unsteadily, using trembling hands to grasp Gambit's hips and move them that all-important, sanity-inducing fraction of an inch away from her own, "I don't think it's worth the risk of you popping a stitch, do you?"

The cloud of desire hadn't quite left Gambit's eyes, but it was joined by another, much more melancholy look. "Purdey, where I'm concerned, you're worth a thousand popped stitches and a hell of a lot more," he professed, voice hoarse and deep from passion and emotion, but his hips stayed exactly where she had left them. Despite all of the other emotions churning through her mind in a delirious stew, Purdey managed a moment of admiration for his ability to regain his equilibrium after being wound up and then wound down again in quick succession, be it in a professional or personal context. More often than not it was Purdey herself who was doing the winding and unwinding, but not once in all the time she'd known him, pre- and post-romance, had Gambit ever forced the issue once she'd had her say in the matter. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

"I know," she whispered softly, stroking his cheek with affection that she wasn't going to be expressing in other, more extroverted ways. "But when on earth will you get it through your thick skull that I don't want you to pop any, on my or anyone else's account?"

Gambit grinned unrepentantly. "I think we both know at this stage that I'm a lost cause on that front."

"Speaking of lost causes," Purdey continued, taking the cue and running with it, "I think we ought to talk about Kendrick's other prognosis."

Gambit took a deep, fortifying breath in through his nose. "Do we have to?"

"We do," Purdey declared, firmly but softly. She tugged at his hands. "Will you lie down with me? I'm feeling rather faint."

A flicker of a wicked grin cross Gambit's features at her admission that she'd been affected by him, and she could tell the burnishing of his ego went some way toward compensating for the lowering of spirits he'd experienced the second she'd asserted that they had to talk about the proverbial elephant in the room. "If I say no, you can commit me now."

"Don't tempt me," Purdey countered as she led him across the living room to the couch. She kept a tight grip on his hand while the mechanism rumbled to retract the bed, and even as she started to climb onto the mattress, pulling him after her, intent on maintaining contact. Even though it was broad daylight, the prospect of having the conversation they were about to have was calling up her old fears about him dematerialising before her eyes. She rolled onto her side as soon as she hit the mattress so she could look at him, reassure herself that he was there. In profile he was just as gorgeous, stretched out on his back, enviably long eyelashes outlined in the daylight, contrasted with the attractively imperfect broken nose. Purdey could see the curls near his ear had tightened up under the moisture dripping down his forehead, jet black and perfectly formed. He had an arm tucked under his head to prop himself up, and Purdey could see the curve of the muscles above his elbow, the lean, lithe strength visible even in repose. Purdey looked at him in a sort of awe, amazed that she'd found him and still had him, that she could be granted the chance to fall in love, properly, with a man who deserved it, a man who'd known how to be a friend and a confidante to her long before he became her lover. She loved him so much it made her heart ache, and the idea of being forced to quit working with him, after all they'd been through together, after all their shared intimacies, seemed unbearable. She'd never known the job without Gambit at her side, at least in spirit, and she didn't want to. He was her partner in every sense of the word.

"Gambit, what are we gonna do?" she said softly, inching a little bit closer to his prone form, seeking the comfort only he could provide.

"I have one or two ideas," Gambit quipped, grinning wickedly up at the ceiling. "If you're up for it."

"No, I meant about McKay," Purdey said impatiently, idly running her finger around the perimeter of Gambit's sweat-soaked lint. She'd need to change it later, she reminded herself-when she could bear to be away from him for long enough to raid the medicine cabinet. "Do you think he'll really split us up?"

Gambit turned his head to look at her, his stitch making it impossible for him to roll onto his side. "I don't know," he said truthfully, jaw working automatically. "Depends on what he wants to accomplish. Whether he wants to make an example with us or not."

Purdey frowned. "For not following orders?"

"Fraternising." Gambit rolled the 'r' to make it sound even more lascivious.

"But people fraternise all the time at the Ministry," Purdey pointed out in mild annoyance. "It's never been a problem before."

"But we're both agents," Gambit qualified. "Not an agent and someone on staff."

"It shouldn't matter," Purdey sulked. "Other agents have been trying to fraternise with me from the second I joined the Ministry, not only you."

"All right, so it's not only fraternising," Gambit conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, and Purdey could tell he was flagging again. She'd wanted him horizontal after the workout for his sake as much as hers, but she hadn't thought talking would say his energy quite so quickly. "That's the problem. If we'd stuck with having a bit of fun, it would have been okay. But we had to push it that little bit further. We had to fall in love."

"Love, fraternising, it doesn't make a jot of difference," Purdey grumbled childishly. "Whatever they're cross with us about, it's still not fair."

"Who said anything about fair?" Gambit rejoindered wryly, earning a sour look from Purdey. "Anyway, we've been through all of this. We know where we stand. We just have to hope McKay sides with us."

"And if he doesn't?" Purdey was looking at him intently, eyes burning into his soul.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Gambit said with a sigh, lacing his fingers with hers. "But if it comes to one of us having to leave, I want to be the one to go."

Purdey looked at him sharply. "Why do you get to decide? Anyway, why can't I be the one to leave?"

Gambit laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "You can leave if you want, love. But you mean too much to me to sacrifice you for the Ministry. I love you more than I've ever loved anything. Definitely more than this job."

"And you don't think I love you more than the job?" Purdey looked mildly offended by the idea.

Gambit shook his head. "No. But I think you'd miss it more."

Purdey cocked her head inquisitively. "And you wouldn't miss it? The man who gave up motor racing and the army for more exciting work?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't miss it," Gambit corrected, taking Purdey's scepticism in stride. "I said I wouldn't miss it as much. Of course I enjoy what we do. But I've been on my own, on the road, pulling stunts, doing damn fool things that I probably shouldn't have lived to talk about, for years. I've taken enough risks to last the lifetime. Being with you, staying put, that's more exciting than all the adventure in the world."

Purdey smiled fondly at him. "You really are a hopeless romantic, aren't you, Mike Gambit?" she said without malice.

Gambit grinned unrepentantly. "I hope so. Life wouldn't be nearly as exciting otherwise."

Purdey looked down at their laced fingers. "Supposing that you did leave. What would you do with yourself? Take up racing driving again?"

Gambit winced involuntary. "Too expensive. And too much collateral damage. If you don't like it when I've been stabbed, wait until you've seen me pried out of a car."

"I've seen you stagger out of enough wrecked vehicles for a lifetime, thank you," Purdey said archly. "So, not motor racing. There must be something else you could do."

"Your confidence in me is touching."

"You know what I mean." Purdey nudged Gambit's shoulder gently. "I suppose I could help you put together your CV in the evenings, scour the want ads with you on the weekends."

"You're already planning how I'm going to spend my imminent unemployment," Gambit said wryly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying the idea."

"Don't be ridiculous," Purdey scoffed. "I want you out in the field, with me, where you belong." She covered his hand with the other one of hers and squeezed. "I'll make McKay understand that if it's the last thing I do."

"I ought to be in for a good show, then," Gambit murmured, stroking her cheek tenderly. "I want to stay in the field with you, too, if I can. But if I have to choose, I'd rather stay with you for the rest of your life."

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Purdey declared, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, which he returned in kind. "But I hope it won't come to that."

"That makes two of us," Gambit agreed, watching her fingers stroke the back of his hand as though mesmerised.

"Although, it would be rather amusing keeping you company in the dole queue," Purdey considered, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling with a wicked little smile playing over her lips.

"For someone so worried about me staying at the Ministry, you're very interested in the prospect of me being unemployed," Gambit pointed out ironically, watching Purdey's grin widen as, undoubtedly humiliating, employment prospects occurred to her.

"I'm just trying to imagine how we'd start your cover letter," Purdey murmured, repositioning her head on the pillow.

"Oh, yes?" Gambit was regarding her with glittering, interested eyes. "What would it say?"

"Oh, I don't know," Purdey replied vaguely, but with a mischievous edge in her voice that told him she knew exactly how it would go, and was quite looking forward to telling him. "Mike Gambit: sailor, solider, driver extraordinaire, late of the intelligence services…" She left off stroking his hand as she chose her next words carefully. "Overall man of action."

"Not too much action happening right now," Gambit grumbled without heat. "Not the right kind, in any case."

Purdey grin expanded, but she carried on as if he hadn't said anything. "Always aims to give satisfaction," she continued, freeing one of her hands to trail along his stomach, her featherlight touch somewhat less than innocent.

"Goes that extra mile to get the job done," Gambit chimed in, picking up on Purdey's only coyly-acknowledged double entendres.

"Works well with others," Purdey went on, smile revealing that she was pleased that Gambit was entering into the spirit of the thing.

"Takes pride in his work."

"Excellent stamina." Purdey was looking at him coquettishly now from under her eyelashes.

"Provides that added personal touch," Gambit parried.

"Good with his hands," Purdey added, a seductive note slipping into her voice.

"Finishes what he starts," Gambit managed, voice sounding ever so slightly strangled as Purdey's hand roamed low enough to just brush his hipbone.

Purdey laughed out loud at what was dangerously close to dipping from double to single entendre. "I can confirm that one from personal experience," she sniggered. "With a pitch like that, I'd hire you."

Gambit chuckled. "I think the job you're thinking of is illegal."

Purdey snickered, and moved her head so she could rest her chin on his chest. "We're going to be all right, aren't we?" she said, eyes bright with hope. "No matter what happens."

Gambit brushed a little of her hair from her big blue orbs. "We're going to be just fine, Purdey-girl," he promised. "So long as we're together, we'll make it through somehow." He yawned expansively. "Why don't we try to sleep a little? We'll need all the kip we can get if we're going to take on McKay."

"Mmm, sounds lovely." Purdey was already half-asleep, but she managed to roll dozily off of him before her body weight settled onto his punctured side. They were both asleep in minutes.