In 26
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.
Complex
"How embarrassing," Purdey complained, pulling her hand slightly away from her injured flesh to assess the damage. "I'd always imagined the first time I was shot would be much more dramatic."
"Be careful what you wish for," Gambit advised, crouching beside her and moving her hand aside so he could inspect the wound for himself. "I could use a few more uninteresting injuries, and I'd be just as happy for you not to accrue any at all."
"You're only saying that because you like being the centre of attention," Purdey managed through gritted teeth, the wound throbbing painfully as Gambit gently tugged the flesh apart to peer within.
"Cuts and bruises are good for attention," Gambit replied distractedly, completely absorbed with assessing her wound. Purdey craned her neck to get a better look, but the angle made it hard to see it properly. It was a long, thin gash, as far as she could tell, and starting to bleed heavily. "Bullets get in the way of enjoying any of the attention you might get."
"Spoken like an expert," Purdey said knowingly.
"Yes, unfortunately," Gambit muttered, and for the first time, Purdey noticed the tightness of his jaw and the paleness of his complexion. With their contact gone and the killer having made his escape, there was nothing to distract Gambit from the fact that she'd been shot, and that particular fact was clearly hitting him hard. Even Steed wasn't there to provide a cheerful, reassuring word to take both their minds off of it, having returned to Gambit's Range Rover to radio in a report.
"The bullet didn't go in," Gambit pronounced after a moment, reaffirming his 'expert' status in all matters injury-related. "It's just a graze, but it's bleeding like hell, so you'll need stitches."
Purdey sighed long-sufferingly. "I suppose that makes it more palatable."
"Eh?" Gambit's expression was puzzled as he delved into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief.
Purdey flashed him a devil-may-care grin. "If I'm not going to be shot properly, I'll at least have an impressive looking scar to tell tall tales about."
"You've got enough true tales to tell in your own right," Gambit reminded, wrapping the handkerchief around the wound. "You don't need a scar for that."
Purdey put her head back in thought. "I suppose I would rather be able to continue wearing sundresses than have bragging rights," she allowed. "And anyway, I already have a scar with a story behind it."
"You do?" Gambit had finished binding her wound, and was looking at her blood on his hands with a decidedly queasy expression. Purdey had never seen him look so peaked about anyone else's injuries, including his own, and realised that he needed a distraction from her pain almost more than she did. Good thing she had one.
"Don't you remember?" she said brightly, forcing Gambit to meet her eyes even as he wiped her blood off on the damp grass. "My tarantula bite? The Amazon jungle?"
Gambit's haunted eyes cleared a little. "You never did show me that bite."
"Well, it's rather high up," Purdey said coyly, "but perhaps you'll notice it the next time I wear shorts when we play tennis."
Gambit's smile was still a ways away from being completely care free, but it was a smile. "At this point, I'm just thankful that there's going to be a next time for anything with you," he said sincerely, then leaned in, on sheer impulse, to kiss her forehead. Purdey felt the miasma of pain threatening to completely envelope her brain recede a little as pleasure flooded through it instead. She caught the tender look in his eye just before he hooked a hand under her uninjured arm and helped her to her feet. "Come on, Purdey-girl. Let's get you stitched up."