Lost Boys
By J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. Tara King and Emma Peel belong to Canal+Image. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Timeline: Zero in a series. Takes place in June, 1975, a full ten months before the start of the TV series. Those interested in the rest of the series are invited to read the subsequent stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, and Brazil.
For more information about the series, please see my profile.
Author's Note: Yes, another short chapter, but I'm insanely busy, so it'll have to be short updates or none at all for awhile. I'm glad I've piqued some interest, though. Hopefully I'll be able to get a chapter of a decent length up before the end of the month.
He'd known the day was coming. Even the lowliest Ministry file clerk could have predicted the ringing of the doorbell, the news it brought. But he had still felt a twinge of melancholy, and did again as he stripped off the pajamas and stepped into the shower. It was difficult not to. He remembered it as though it were yesterday, the memories crystal clear.
***
It was October 12, 1972, and the rumours had been circulating for months. Steed had heard every iteration by this point, from whispered conversations in the file room to idle gossip in the corridors. And today John Steed clattered down the narrow curving staircase in the Mews flat and made for the door. He glanced quickly through one of the windows bracketing the door before answering. It paid to be careful in this business. Not answering the door was by no means a guarantee that one wouldn't end up with a couple of bullets through the chest, but it certainly didn't give anyone a chance to aim very well, either. But Steed had no fears on that front. He smiled at the tall, shapely silhouette currently loitering in the corridor, before turning the latch.
"Tara," Steed greeted, extending an arm and indicating for her to enter. Tara King smiled faintly and did so, but not before Steed noticed the angst-filled green eyes, nor the tentativeness with which she crossed the threshold, as though part of her was inclined to turn and flee. Her demeanour was, on the whole, much more suited to a day back in 1968, to a young agent who had yet to finish her training. Nothing like the accomplished young woman who had come into her own in a few short years. But even an uncharacteristic bout of timidness couldn't hide the changes, not only the shoulder-length brown hair which owed nothing to wigs, but the way she walked, even now, with a grace and economy of movement that could only be gained from a few years in the field. She'd come a long way. But Steed knew she still had a long way to go.
Starting today.
"It's lovely to see you," Steed enthused, closing the door and following her into the living room. "Have a seat. Can I get you something?"
Tara shook her head, electing to stand. "No, thank you, Steed," she demurred. "It's not a social call. I came—" She paused, bit her lip, took a deep breath. "I came because I have something important I needed to discuss with you."
"Oh?" Steed gave the girl his full attention, saw the way she was fiddling nervously with her hands. "Is anything wrong?"
"Yes. No. I mean, not really. But…" Tara sighed, threw up her hands in frustration. "Oh, Steed, I'm sorry."
Steed stepped in closer, put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever for?"
Tara sighed. "Betraying you." At Steed's raised eyebrow she hurried on. "Not literally," she added, well-aware of all the connotations 'betrayal' had in their business, none of which were terribly pleasant. "But that's how it feels."
"Now, Miss King, you know as well as I do that you'd never betray anyone, so whatever it is you feel guilty about, I'm sure I'll understand."
Tara laughed, but there was no hunour in it. "Will you? Really? Because I feel just terrible. You see, I had an offer. The Ministry wants an overseas liaison to coordinate with various foreign intelligence agencies. They move you from place to place as you're needed."
Steed smiled. He knew what was coming, had always known, but he let Tara take it at her own pace, let her break it to him her way. "It sounds like a fantastic opportunity."
"It is," Tara agreed, biting her lip. "That's why I accepted it."
Steed's expression didn't waver. "I know," he said evenly.
Tara's green eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled in spite of herself. "Of course you do," she said knowingly. "Don't tell me you had Mother offer it to me?"
"Of course not," Steed assured. "Mother knows as well as anyone that you've done some excellent work with our foreign contacts. You know how to talk to people, Tara. You keep things civil, and someone who can grease the wheels of international cooperation is an invaluable asset. I'm sure you'll be marvelous." He meant it, too. Tara had a way with people. She was friendly and approachable, and never put on airs. People told her things it would take hours and a few drops of truth serum to be dragged out by anyone else. And the best part was, she enjoyed it. He'd always known Tara wasn't wired to be a killer. That was not to say she couldn't kill—she had, and did so, very efficiently if the situation warranted it. But it bothered her more than some, and Steed had found it harder and harder to ignore the lines that appeared around her mouth when her lips pursed and her eyes couldn't tear away from the body.
Tara smiled at the praise, but cast her eyes downwards. "But no one told you?" she asked quietly.
"No one needed to," Steed replied. "I know you've been spreading your wings lately. Running assignments with the others and taking courses. You're a talented young woman, Tara. You can't be expected to stay here."
"But I feel so horrible for leaving you," Tara murmured, blinking back tears. "Oh, Steed, there was a time I thought I'd stay with you forever."
Steed shook his head, thumbed away the one tear she couldn't hold back. "There's no such thing as forever, Tara. Less so in this line of work."
"But still. I thought…I mean, you taught me so much. You taught me everything, Steed. I wouldn't be able to do this job if you hadn't been there to help me along. I didn't think I'd ever be able to turn my back on that, not in all my days. But now…"
"You're not beholden to me, Tara. I taught you because I knew you had potential, and I wanted you to succeed as an agent." He smiled. "And because I liked you."
Tara smiled back. "The feeling was more than mutual, believe me. And that makes it all the harder. I think I'll always love you Steed. But I don't love you, not anymore. And I don't think I can stay on and pretend that I haven't changed."
"I know. I've seen this coming for some time," Steed assured.
"Of course you have. But still…"
"Don't feel sorry, Tara. Everyone has to move on with their lives, you included. It's only natural." Despite his assurances, he could tell she still felt guilty, but John Steed could be persistently upbeat, and it was often contagious. "Do you mind if I ask where your first posting is?"
"France," Tara revealed, and he saw a little spark of enthusiasm behind the guilt. "I'm already practicing my accent."
"Sounds perfect for you. I'll give you the addresses of one or two cafes I know of, if you'd like."
Tara nodded. "I would. Very much. But what will you do?"
"Oh, I'll manage. I have before," Steed said airily. "I didn't always have you to look after me."
"No, someone else was doing a very good job," Tara said knowingly, and Steed didn't have to look to know her gaze had gone distant, and the image of Emma Peel descending a staircase was filling her mind's eye. "But I'm not leaving just yet," she said after a moment, as though Emma had steeled her resolve. "I start at the beginning of the new year, so we've got a little time left together."
"Excellent!" Steed exclaimed. "Let's make the most of it and go out for dinner. My treat."
Tara watched him gather up his bowler and brolly. "You know there's change brewing at the Ministry?" she said after a moment. "Mother's resigning, and everything's going to be reshuffled when the new man takes over."
"Yes, I know," Steed informed, placing the bowler on his head and giving it a jaunty tap. "Tommy McKay. He's an old friend, not liable to have me drawn and quartered. Don't fret, Tara. I'll be fine. Really."
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, just like in the old days. "I hope so."