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.

McKay was reading a file when they entered, although Gambit imagined the gesture was more an act to convey authority than a true desire to finish up some paperwork. He glanced up briefly as they approached his desk, then let his eyes drift back to the contents of the file, the picture of unconcern. "You can leave your reports here," he said by way of greeting, patting an empty corner of his desk. "I'll be with you in a moment."

Purdey and Gambit exchanged looks, uncertain as to how to interpret the man's demeanour and its possible implications for their fate, but did as they were told, Gambit placing his file on the desk and Purdey slapping hers on top in a cheeky display of one-upmanship that lifted Gambit's spirits in spite of the situation. In spite of her cheekiness, she didn't sit down, which told Gambit she was nervous as well as defiant, and he followed suit, letting her take the lead. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter what happened to him. There was nothing the Ministry could take away that he couldn't replace. Supporting Purdey through whatever was to befall them was his main concern. He flashed a reassuring smile at her while he still had the chance, before the weight of McKay's gaze swung onto them, and she returned it with a tight one of her own. Together, they waited tensely for McKay to finish perusing his file—or to finish pretending to peruse it.

They couldn't have stood there for more than a minute or two, but it seemed like an eternity. Gambit's karate training meant that he was adept at staying calm in stressful situations, and Purdey had automatically reverted to first position, as though preparing herself to step onstage for the performance of her life, but he could feel the tension radiating off her, and somehow that indirect stress was harder for Gambit to quell than his own. As a result, it was almost a relief when McKay flipped the folder shut and looked up at them, signalling that things were finally going to get in gear. Gambit had to remind himself to quit the deep breathing exercises he'd been using to keep the tendon in his jaw from jumping as he regarded McKay levelly, drawing on his reserves, certain he could face whatever came his way. It was just like being in the field—eye on the enemy, and Purdey at his side. Their chances were better than the pessimistic streak in him wanted to believe.

"Thank you for these." McKay took their reports and transferred them to a tray at his left elbow. "I look forward to reading them with great interest, although from what Steed has told me—" He indicated the file that he'd been perusing, and Gambit realised for the first time that it was a case report. "—I expect them to slot together perfectly with his relatively-innocuous telling of events."

"We did our best to account for everything," Gambit said noncommittally.

McKay actually smiled at that. "Yes, I'm sure you did," he said wryly. "But, as I expect you're aware, this little adventure of yours, if you can call it that, is not the only reason I asked to see you today."

"I was hoping it might be to award medals for bravery," Purdey said breezily, in the way only she could.

"No," McKay said dryly. "I'm afraid not." He laced his fingers on the desk in front of him and regarded them with a measure of weariness. "I've never been particularly interested in discussing the issue of fraternisation. To be brutally honest, the whole thing seemed rather…juvenile. Regulating the private lives of adults is not my idea of fun, particularly when there are more serious matters vying for my attention. But in our line of work, it can quickly become a serious matter."

"McKay—" Gambit interjected, hoping to staunch some of the bleeding before McKay cut deeply into the issue, but the man waved him quiet.

"Let me finish, Gambit. You and Purdey will both have an opportunity to say your piece." He rose to his feet, picking up his cane from where it was leaning against the desk and pacing thoughtfully back and forth behind the imposing piece of furniture. "I don't necessarily condone fraternising in the department, but there's no explicit regulation against it." He stopped in front of a picture of the Queen hanging on the wall, assessing it with a critical eye. "The rumour mill is very efficient, and while I'm not actively seeking out the latest gossip on office dalliances, I can't help but stumble across news of affairs between agents and other staff—clerks, radio operators, records people, and the like." He turned and regarded Gambit with a jaded eye. "I believe I'm not mistaken when I say that your off-duty socialising has been much-discussed, Gambit." Gambit ducked his head sheepishly, and Purdey's eyes rolled heavenward in response. McKay arched an interested eyebrow at her reaction. "Forgive me, Purdey, if this is the first time this has been brought to your attention."

"I'm quite well-versed in the Ministry's rumour mill," Purdey said coolly. "I knew of Gambit long before I knew him, if you take my meaning."

"I think," Gambit cut in, before Purdey got it into her head to say anything more incriminating, "I should point out that not everything that makes its way through the grapevine is strictly true. There are lots of exaggerations and outright falsehoods floating around."

"Some started by yourself, no doubt," McKay said knowingly, earning a smile from Purdey in the process. "But I have no desire to trot out the details of your conquests, real or imagined, Gambit. Your relationships, just as those undertaken by your colleagues, were confined to dalliances between agents and non-field staff. Not to be encouraged, but generally harmless. Agents are unlikely to be compromised in the field when their paramours are safely tucked away behind a desk in a secure building. The risk of distraction is low." He returned to his seat, lowered himself into it with no hint of the pain his injury caused him. "But when both individuals are involved in field work, things become rather more difficult, particularly when those individuals work together. It's an issue that we've been mercifully spared from having to address because there simply haven't been many female agents in the service. But as with all rules, there's an exception, and in this case, it's you, Purdey."

Purdey preened slightly. "Naturally."

"And so we come to the nub of the matter," McKay said with a sigh, looking weary as Purdey's misplaced pride. "It would help if the pair of you were assigned to different teams, but the fact that you're partners complicates things. Having two agents working side by side in the field and, pardon my indelicacy, sleeping together, is less than ideal. It breeds distraction and a certain amount of carelessness. Agents are supposed to be focussed on their mission and their survival, as much for their own sake as the department's. When your lover is being shot at, this adds a layer of unpredictability to the situation. How can I be certain that you'll do what needs to be done and not sacrifice your assigned objectives to save your partner's life?" He fixed them both with a penetrating gaze. "I suppose it's too much to hope that it's purely physical and you haven't become emotionally evolved."

"I'm afraid so," Purdey said pertly, and McKay nodded as though that was what he'd been expecting.

"Then you've put me in a very difficult position," McKay pronounced, sinking back into his chair with a certain amount of weariness. "If I decide to let you carry on as you have been, in every sense of the word—" He paused to scowl meaningfully at them, a look to which Purdey and Gambit responded with studied neutrality, though Gambit could sense Purdey quivering ever-so-slightly with pent-up ire that she was biting down hard on the urge to release. "—without even the slightest punishment for your many transgressions, both proven and unproven, Larry Carrington, and others who share his mindset, will argue that I'm guilty of favouritism, or giving in to undue influence from John Steed, whom many people already believe is running this department by proxy."

Gambit smirked a little at that, but refrained from making the smart remark that seemed intent on forcing its way through his lips lest it get both him and Purdey in deeper trouble than they were already in. It was a wise move, as exemplified by the sharp, stern look that McKay flashed in his direction, head twisting around with the speed of a hawk zeroing in on a rodent that had picked an inopportune moment to twitch a whisker. "On the other hand, if I dismiss you, I'll attract criticism from another set of detractors entirely. I don't know if you'd be surprised to discover how many supporters you have in this department, in everything from records to armoury. Even some of the bloody bureaucrats seem to like you, and I haven't known them to like anyone since wartime. How you managed to charm them I'll never understand." He eyed Gambit again, this time with a grudging glimmer of humour. "Your popularity amongst the secretary pool is rather easier to understand, I must say, though how you continue to engender it despite now being very publicly 'taken' is beyond me." Gambit did allow himself to grin at that, albeit not for very long, as Purdey's pursed lips were singularly unforgiving and unamused. "In their eyes, my sacking you would be nothing more than a case of rules over results, cutting off my nose to spite my face. Why break up a successful partnership just because you broke a few rules and managed to get yourselves romantically entangled? Disciplining you would be the act of an inhuman monster so up himself that he can't forgive two valuable employees for making a few human errors and displaying some very mortal frailties." He paused and looked from one agent to the other, allowing his words to sink in. "I know that at this stage of the game you'll have your own views on what kind of a man I am, and those can only have been lowered by what has transpired since this whole debacle got underway. Without expecting or hoping to elevate myself in your estimation, I would like you to know that I am not unsympathetic to your plight, or what the pair of you have gone through, together and separately. I fully recognise that I'm a crusty bastard, but I'm not quite as heartless as some might make out." Purdey and Gambit, though still braced to defend themselves, gifted the older man with small nods in acknowledgement of his candidness. McKay looked to be on the cusp of smiling back when he cleared his throat and returned to his former, stern exterior. "Be that as it may, that still leaves me in a difficult position. Any decision I make will be bound to divide the Ministry. The pair of you have been so notorious in your doings that everyone has an opinion about what ought to be done to you, or not done." It was Purdey's turn to smile a little, but McKay was as quick to slap her down as he had been Gambit. "I wouldn't let your fame go to your head, Purdey. It's done you, and the Ministry, much more harm than good." He leaned forward, lacing his fingers on the desktop. "It's with that fact in mind that I've made my decision." Purdey and Gambit braced themselves, knowing that they'd come to the crunch. Gambit resisted the almost visceral urge to wrap his arms protectively around Purdey to shield her from any awful ramifications that might come whizzing their way, but he suspected that, under the circumstances, she wouldn't appreciate him shielding her in front of the man who was about to sentence them for being much too intimate. "I've decided not to make one."

"Eh?" Anxiety aside, Gambit was nonplussed. He looked to Purdey, the expert in extreme conversational right turns that left the other people in the conversation, not to mention any unfortunate bystanders who might have unwisely chosen to eavesdrop, scrabbling to regain some sort of logical equilibrium. If anyone should have been able to follow what was going on, it was her, but from the puzzled way her eyebrows were knitted, he had a feeling that even she'd been thrown by this development.

"You're not going to make a decision?" Purdey repeated, annoyance speaking for them both but, rather mercifully, saving Gambit from the need to say something that might vex McKay further. "You mean you're not going to do anything at all?" That last part sounded a bit more hopeful, and Gambit's eyes lit up. Did McKay mean to just ignore the whole thing?

But the flinty look in McKay's eye didn't suggest that complete mercy was on his mind. "I suppose that was a rather misleading way to put it," he allowed. "I should have said that I am making a decision, but not one about your fate. At least, not directly."

At the word "fate", Gambit felt all of the hope drain out through his shoes. This wasn't going to be a reprieve. Whatever was going to happen to them was just going to happen in a way that they hadn't anticipated. "You're going to send it upstairs," he predicted, in a sudden burst of prescience, as Purdey's head whipped around, blonde hair flying, to gape at him.

McKay nodded slightly, less surprised than Purdey but with a touch of admiration glinting in the otherwise stolid gaze. "They're going to strike a committee to reconsider our policy, or lack thereof, on 'relations' within the department. You'll be something of a test case, and whatever they decide will determine what your future with the department will look like, should they decide that you'll have one."

"You're going to put us on trial?" Purdey was aghast.

"Don't be overdramatic" McKay scoffed. "It's not a trial. More of an arbitration. And you will have an opportunity to say your piece, either in person or through written submissions."

"It sounds awfully like a trial," Purdey seethed, crossing her arms angrily.

"More like evasive maneuvers," Gambit muttered darkly, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, exuding quiet menace. He'd be prepared to swallow whatever decision McKay made, but this delegation of authority smacked of passing the parcel. He hadn't always agreed with McKay's decisions, but he'd respected the man's willingness to take responsibility for them head-on. Until now, it seemed. "Pass it on to someone else to keep your hands clean."

"I passed it on to ensure the unity and functioning of the department," McKay snapped, rising from his seat in ire, leg be damned. "That is always my primary concern and a damn difficult job, one that the pair of you have made even more maddeningly complicated in recent weeks. Given the current climate of the department in the aftermath of your actions, the last thing the Ministry needs is another reason to be divided. It needs leadership, and I cannot provide that if half of the people I'm meant to lead believe that I got an important decision badly wrong. So yes, I've passed it on to a third party to retain my impartiality for the good of the department. Otherwise I'd have been happy to make the decision myself. I've never shied away from making difficult calls before." He looked meaningfully at Gambit. "As you know all too well, Gambit. I sent you to arrest Steed, after all. If that isn't a sign that I'm not afraid to make tough choices, I don't know what is."

"But Steed hadn't done anything wrong!" Purdey protested, slapping her hands on McKay's desk and leaning forward intently, matching the man's icy glare with one of her own, while Gambit stood back and wondered if he was going to have to bodily hold her back from attacking their superior before the meeting was out. That would definitely scupper their careers, although the mental images would last Gambit a lifetime, particularly on dark days when he could use a laugh. "Not really. I mean, he did break into the safe that held the Allied Attack Plans, but that's not so different than us lying about the papers. And he attacked Gambit to avoid arrest." Behind her, Gambit winced visibly as he relived the unpleasant sensation of Steed's knee connecting with a certain, sensitive part of his anatomy. Purdey's point was a valid one, but he wasn't sure their careers were worth revisiting a memory that was less than a year old and still tender around the edges. "That's no different than Gambit going on the run. And Steed didn't get so much as a slap on the wrist. In both cases a threat to the Ministry was removed because of what was done, even if it went against the rulebook. It's the same situation. We deserve the same treatment." She straightened up, recrossing her arms, look of triumph on her features and chin turned up defiantly. Gambit thought she looked magnificent. Purdey was never one to back down from an argument. In fact, she rather enjoyed it, even when—especially when—the stakes were high. Gambit knew, in the depths of his realist soul, that she might not win. The vagaries of bureaucracy often seemed to be immune—indeed the antithesis of—logic, and no matter how well-reasoned her points might be, the rulebook had a habit of cutting it all down with a simple, "Because I say so." But no one could say that, odds against her or not, she wouldn't go down swinging. "You let Steed off without tearing the Ministry apart, and that was in spite of Spelman rattling everyone's confidence."

Much to the surprise of both, McKay simply sighed. He suddenly looked very old and tired as he sank into his chair, all the anger draining out of him. "No one was making noise about disciplining Steed," he said tiredly. "Everyone was relieved that normality had been restored, that they could back to assuming that Steed was incorruptible. He didn't have Larry and his followers making trouble for him, demanding, with equally good reasons to the ones you just put forward, Purdey, that he be thrown out."

Gambit felt his jaw tense so hard that it might crack. "It's all down to Larry, then," he echoed darkly, in a much less flippant tone than the one he'd used when mocking Larry during the business with Juventor. He should have known better than to feel sorry for the man after he'd been brain-drained.

"Yes," McKay confirmed sadly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And no."

"That's very helpful," Purdey huffed.

"You might have been able to avoid undue scrutiny if not for Carrington," McKay said sharply, surfacing from the shelter of his hand to glare at Purdey with hawklike intensity. "But no one would have paid Carrington a jot of attention if he didn't have a case with some merit. You can lay some blame at his feet, but not all. You also have to take your responsibility for your actions."

"But that doesn't matter, as long as none of that blame is attributed to you," Purdey said sweetly.

"Do you think I've come out of this unscathed?" McKay grated. "The actions of this department do not disappear into a black void once you've filed your paperwork. Someone has to explain to the Minister why what was done had to be done, and why the people who did it ought to be lauded rather than sent down for their actions. If you've ever had the pleasure of being present for a ministerial briefing, then you've only the slightest notion of how uncomfortable his questions can become. He's even more candid one-on-one, I assure you." He fixed the pair of them with a penetrating glare, tapping the desktop with his index finger with each point made. "I've defended dozens of people in this department in the face of ministerial ire, the pair of you included. If you think I've never advocated on your behalves, or Steed's, then you're sorely mistaken. This just so happens to be a situation in which advocacy alone is not going to be enough. Something needs to be seen to be done. I'm just trying to do it in such a way that prevents the whole department from being torn apart in the process." He leaned back in his chair, weary once more. "I'm not asking you to like it, or even accept it, but I hope that you understand it, at least from my point of view."

Purdey took a deep breath in preparation for launching into another tirade, but the tiniest shake of Gambit's head out of the corner of her eye stopped her in her tracks. "We understand," Gambit confirmed instead, quite calmly. "But we definitely don't like it. I don't know about Purdey, but I learned to take my medicine like a good soldier a long time ago. What I don't appreciate is being kept in limbo while I wait for the axe to fall."

McKay nodded once, curtly. "I respect that," he said briskly, shifting in his chair as though his leg were bothering him. "That said, you're going to dislike what comes next even more." He held a hand out, palm up, arm stretched across the table. "Until the committee reaches a decision, you are suspended from active duty, effective immediately. You will be permitted to collect any personal effects and then escorted from the premises, and will not be allowed to return until further notice. You will also refrain from contacting any of your colleagues in this department or allowing employees of any other department to believe that you are active operatives. You will be kept apprised of the status of the committee's review and will be notified of your opportunity to make submissions at the appropriate time."

Gambit was stoic, expression stony-faced but impassive. Purdey's jaw, in contrast, was hanging open, agog. "You're not serious?"

"I'm very serious," McKay said simply. "You didn't think you'd be allowed to carry on as normal until the committee finished its work, did you?" The fingers of the outstretched hand curled, beckoning. "I'll take your ID cards now." He eyed Gambit's shoulder holster, just visible inside his unbuttoned jacket, meaningfully. "Anything else can be dropped at the armoury. They're expecting you."

Purdey whirled on Gambit for more fuel for her morally outraged bonfire, but instead found him opening his wallet and extracting the ID from within. "You're going along with this?"

"There's not much of a choice," Gambit countered calmly, placing the card in McKay's hand, then unclipping his pass from his lapel and adding it to the small pile. "They're making their decisions. We'll make ours. But this isn't the time or the place to protest." His gaze softened, turned beseeching. "Trust me, Purdey. It'll do us more harm than good at this point."

"I think it's exactly the right time," Purdey retorted tartly, giving McKay the evil eye, intent on making her displeasure known, even though there was no question she was going to acquiesce to Gambit's pleas. People assumed that Purdey always got the better of Gambit in an argument, even when he seemed to have the facts on his side. They were right, for the most part. But what they failed to notice was that Gambit was often at his most persuasive when he was calm, and quiet, and made his points as much with the sincerity in his eyes and the conviction in his voice as he did with the words he spoke. Those few words could have as significant an effect as Purdey's legendary verbiage, on everyone from enemy agents to Purdey herself. Before McKay's inscrutably neutral gaze, he watched her stand down, body language reverting from hostile to accepting on the strength of Gambit's promise that they would live to fight another day. If McKay's position hadn't required him to remain impassive at this final, all-important stage of the encounter, lest Purdey and Gambit sense his weakness more than he'd already let on throughout the thoroughly unpleasant meeting, then he would have stared in open admiration at two of the best agents to grace the Ministry as they demonstrated the depth of the connection between them, the deep, unshakeable trust, that had made them so exceptional in the field, while also jeopardising everything they had worked so hard to achieve. It was the ultimate irony—or double-edged sword—and it made McKay do something that he rarely did: doubt himself. Should he have risked the ire of countless people both above and below him by letting them off the hook and saying hang the consequences? For a moment, he was tempted to hand back the ID cards and tell them that he'd changed his mind, let them off with a warning. As soon as the idea materialised in his mind, he dismissed it. That decision could oh-so-easily be undone by those above him, and then he'd be called to the carpet himself, perhaps replaced, and heaven knew who they'd choose to succeed him. A leadership change wouldn't do the Ministry anymore good than being polarised. There was no way out of this that left everything and everyone intact, at least in the immediate future. In life, as in chess, McKay played the long game, and whether Purdey or Gambit realised it at that moment, his decision was giving them their best chance of having a career in some form or other when they reached the other side.

"And the right place," Purdey added pointedly, but more for the sake of completion than anything else, bringing McKay back to reality with a jolt. The heat was out of her aborted battle cry, as evidenced by her choosing to add her own IDs to the little pile in McKay's hand, joining Gambit in exile as in everything else.

"Thank you." McKay set the cards on his desk, on top of their reports. "That's all, unless you've anything else to say? Any questions?"

Purdey's hands were balled into fists beneath her crossed arms. "I don't think you want to hear what I have to say," she said darkly.

"What Purdey means is, we'll be on our way," Gambit said, with remarkable equanimity. "We know you're doing what you have to do. But I promise you this, McKay. We're going to do the same."

McKay nodded once, curtly. "Good." He picked up one of the pieces of paper on his desk, already moving on to tackle other, far more serious problems that threatened not only the integrity of the department, but the security of the nation, and perhaps other nations as well. Despite Purdey's ire and Gambit's cynicism in response to their treatment, it did rather put their situation in perspective. There were far more grievous atrocities being perpetrated around the world against individuals of all stripes, and it was McKay's job to ensure that there was someone, somewhere, in the Ministry's confines capable of dealing with whatever it was should it drift into their jurisdiction, however tangentially. Gambit knew that he and Purdey and Steed had averted some particularly nasty situations by keeping the papers out of the hands of governments and radicals alike. That was the most important thing in the end, but that didn't mean it didn't stick in one's craw to be punished after having just averted several potential catastrophes.

If McKay was still struggling with the potential ramifications of his decision, he didn't show it. After a moment, he glanced up at the pair of now-suspended agents, and said, "I should get down to the armoury if I were you. They get very twitchy when people don't surface to surrender weaponry in a timely fashion. They have rather vivid imaginations about what might go on, and how they might be blamed."

Purdey was still seething, but apparently also capable of further offence. "Is that all?" she demanded.

McKay regarded her from beneath hooded eyes. "I think there's very little else to be said at this juncture, don't you? Other than that I look forward to the resolution of this whole affair." He arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "I can wish you luck, if it'll make you feel better, but I don't imagine it'll make much difference."

"You're right. It wouldn't," Purdey snapped, turning on her heel and flouncing out with a potent combination of indignation and dancer's grace. Gambit, watching her retreat, temporarily forgot himself, lost in the way she moved. He was only brought back to earth by McKay's pointed throat-clearing, and blinked as if coming out of a daze to find the older man peering over the paper in his hands with a small smile twitching his lips.

"Something tells me, Gambit," he murmured, "that no matter what the upshot of all of this happens to be, you and Purdey will come out of it better than ever."

Gambit, in spite of everything, actually grinned, possibly the broadest grin that McKay had ever seen on a human being who wasn't trying to imitate the Cheshire cat. "I'm glad there's something we can agree on, sir," he said jauntily, before executing a cheeky salute and making his exit.

McKay waited until he was certain that the office door was firmly shut behind Gambit before he burst out laughing.