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, John Steed, and Thomas McKay. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. Tara King belongs to Canal+Image. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

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, only a week's gap between updates! Brilliant! I'm lucky to sneak this in, but I'm also glad.

Anyway, Gambit finally shows up this time around. The story's starting in earnest now. Unfortunately, the pleasure's all Steed's.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed thus far. Hope you enjoy the update.

Steed made his way down the Ministry corridor toward Dr. James Kendrick's office. According to McKay, Gambit was long overdue for his physical. Apparently he made a habit of evading the good doctor's best attempts at pulling him in, and Steed knew from experience that Kendrick was a hard man to shake. Steed only knew of one other man who had managed to hold him off, and right now he was looking for Mike Gambit. Steed smiled to himself. Maybe he and Gambit had something in common after all.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Kendrick's door open, and a man step out, still shrugging on his coat. Steed recognized the silhouette immediately as Gambit's. He was followed by a very annoyed looking Kendrick, who hovered in the doorway giving his patient his best 'do as I say' look. His patient didn't seem to notice. Or didn't care. He did up his jacket buttons unconcernedly.

"So, clean bill of health, then, Doctor?" he asked, and Kendrick's scowl deepened despite the positive diagnosis.

"Yes, yes, you're in top physical condition," he almost snapped. Gambit smiled grimly.

"You didn't need to spend all that time chasing me down, then, did you?" he pointed out. "I could have told you I was in good shape."

"We could have saved ourselves a great deal of time if you'd come in when I asked," Kendrick retorted, looking tired now. "It's only a physical. I don't see what all the fuss is about."

"You're not the one with an arm full of holes," Gambit said ruefully, rubbing the inside of his elbow.

"If you came in more often I wouldn't have to give you all the inoculations at once," Kendrick reminded. "Look, just come in when I ask next time. I'm getting too old to chase you lads around. If you want to fall apart in your fifties, that's your prerogative. Just don't come whinging to me." He turned on his heel, and was about to go back inside his office, when he spotted Steed. "Ah, Steed, I don't suppose you're here for your check-up as well?"

"I'm afraid not, Kendrick," Steed said with as much regret as he could muster. "I've urgent business with your reluctant patient here."

Gambit froze and eyed Steed warily. Kendrick snorted and shook his head. "I'd get on with it, then, while you can still see him. Ten seconds and he'll be halfway across the building before you know what's happened."

"I'll bear that in mind," Steed murmured, never taking his eyes off Gambit.

"Better you than me," Kendrick replied, and shut the surgery door behind him.

Gambit was still regarding Steed with suspicion, and Steed took a moment to reacquaint himself with the man. He'd only encountered Gambit a handful of times—in training classes, the file room, cafeteria, what have you. He was tall, about Steed's height, a bit more in the Cuban heels that were currently the fashion. The hair was black and curly, worn a little long, but cut at the back so it only just skimmed the collar. The eyes, currently cold, shifted from blue to green depending on which way the light hit them, and the nose featured a very pronounced bump that Steed knew was courtesy of at least one breakage, perhaps more. The top lip was curved in such a way that a sneer would come easily, although Gambit wasn't taking advantage of that fact just now. But the most important thing was Gambit was well-built. Slim, but not skinny, a lean, sinewy take on muscular, just visible beneath the well-tailored pin-stripe suit. Gambit would be fast when he needed to, and strong, someone who could handle himself in the field. But what Steed really wanted to know was behind those eyes.

"You want me?" Gambit's voice was clipped, and the accent bore vague hints of a cockney that had been suppressed either by accident or design. Gambit hadn't been born into his well-cut suits and leather boots. Steed filed that information away for further reference.

"Yes," he confirmed, beaming beatifically. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm John Steed."

"I know who you are," Gambit said shortly. The man was most definitely on the defensive, blue-green eyes sizing Steed up much the way the senior agent had him.

Steed's smile faded ever-so-slightly at the tone, but he chose not to change tactics just yet. "Yes, we've crossed paths once or twice. I wasn't certain you'd remembered."

Gambit snorted, and a trace of humour flitted over the rugged features. "Bit hard to forget. Your picture's burned into my brain from all the textbooks and training manuals. The great John Steed, and his legendary succession of lovely sidekicks." Gambit spoke it with flourish, as though reading it off an imaginary page. "Follow the John Steed method, and you're sure to succeed."

Steed arched an eyebrow. "And have you?"

Gambit shrugged slightly. "Well, I'm not dead yet, am I? But then I've learned more than my share of tricks over the years."

"Yes, I imagine you have," Steed murmured. Gambit had the quiet sort of deadliness Steed himself was known for, only it lurked closer to the surface in Mike Gambit. Much as it had in John Steed circa 1963. In some ways the resemblance was quite strong, right down to the professional-looking pinstripes.

Gambit's eyes lost a little of their newfound friendliness. "Been checking up on me?"

Steed widened his eyes, the picture of innocence. "Of course not! You know as well as I do that agent biographies are classified, only released on a need-to-know basis."

Gambit smirked humourlessly. "Right. And how much did you need to know?"

"Only what McKay saw fit to tell me," Steed admitted, and Gambit shook his head and glanced briefly at the floor, jaw working slightly. "Which wasn't very much, to tell you the truth."

"I should have known," Gambit said ruefully. "McKay's been on my back for months now. What's he got a bee in his bonnet about this time? You can see I've just been to Kendrick, so if it's my medical, he can relax. And I know for a fact that I've filed all my reports." He eyed Steed up again. "But it has to be bigger than that, because John Steed wouldn't be playing office boy. What's he got in mind this time?"

"Oh, nothing too taxing," Steed said lightly, brandishing the file McKay had given him. "I've a little surveillance task, and I could use some assistance."

"Ha, ha." The laugh short and staccato, and not meant to convey any genuine amusement. Gambit's jaw was really working now. "I should have known. Let me guess. 'Good old Gambit. Fine agent. If only he'd get himself a partner, he'd have the enemy quaking in his boots. Some sort of stabilizing influence. Temperance. Too reckless. Too much time fraternizing with the typing pool.' I'm right, aren't I?" Steed's expression was nondescript, and Gambit knew he had him. "McKay must be really desperate if he's set you on me."

Steed glanced at the file, then back at Gambit, decided on the straight-forward approach. "Yes," he agreed, and could see Gambit was slightly taken aback by his forthrightness. "Yes, you might say he's reached the end of his rope. Good news, then. I'm the last person standing in the way of you and your freedom."

Gambit looked interested now, eyes lighting up at the possibilities. "You can get him to let me work solo?"

"Yes," Steed repeated. "But on one condition. You have to work with me first. Run this assignment, maybe more if I don't have enough information to make a decision. If, in my opinion, you really are better suited to working on your own, then I will happily tell McKay, and you will never be pestered about the issue again."

Gambit's eyes narrowed again. "What's the catch?"

Steed shook his head. "There isn't one. I've told you everything. There's no secret agenda."

Gambit shook his head. "Oh, no. No, not with John Steed there isn't. I've read the files. Master of the double-cross. That's you. There's always something else going on when it's you. It's never that straight-forward. There's always a game." Gambit moved in long quick strides until he was inches from the other man, face to face. "Let me be very, very clear. I've played the game. I've been manipulated by the men with the secret agenda, and oddly enough, I've had better times. So if it's all the same to you, I'll pass on the John Steed game and take my chances out in the field." With that, he turned on his heel and started off down the corridor. Steed watched him go silently, until he was almost out of earshot. Then, he said five short words.

"Was it in the navy?"

Gambit froze in his tracks, and Steed saw his back stiffen. He didn't say anything, but Steed knew the jaw would be working again, faster than ever before. He started toward him, at a slow, leisurely pace.

"It's the walk that gives you away. Only sailors rock like that, men who've spent a substantial amount of time at sea." He stopped just a few inches from Gambit's ear, behind him, facing the same way, looking past the man's shoulder to the corridor beyond.

"You're a hard man to figure out from what I've heard, Gambit," he went on, quietly, almost conversationally, but with an added edge that made Mike sit up and pay attention. Steed could feel the tension radiating off of him. "On the one hand you're very good about following orders, know all the regulations by the heart. When ordered to, you work incredibly well with a partner and display a great deal of leadership ability. And yet you seem to make a conscious effort to work on your own as much as possible, and put yourself in positions that make it very difficult for anyone to issue you orders. A sort of dichotomy."

"I like my independence," Gambit murmured by way of explanation.

"Some people do. But I've known my share of lone wolves. They never work in tandem, not without a great deal of difficultly, and they'll fight to be free every time. But you, you're much too good at it. You know how to conduct yourself too well. I don't deny you've an independent streak, but somewhere along the line you were part of a team, and you took it seriously." He paused for effect, let Gambit stew for a moment before carrying on. "Someone betrayed your trust along the way, didn't they? Someone in authority. Someone used you, and you've decided to give yourself as few chances to be used as possible. And now you're not going to put your fate in anyone's hands if you can help it."

Steed let the silence take over, let it encompass the younger man. This was the turning point. Steed's, for lack of a better word, gambit, could go two ways. Gambit would either accept that Steed had him beaten for the time being, and go with it, or he would throw his hypothesis, which, Steed had to admit, could very well be wrong, back in his face and Steed would lose any credibility he had left as far as the man was concerned. Which would be a pity, because Gambit was proving to be more interesting all the time.

Time ticked on. Steed waited. Gambit stewed. After a moment Steed wondered if he was even aware that he was still standing behind him. Then:

"How much do you know?" Gambit asked quietly.

Steed sighed, both in relief and weariness. "Does it matter? No matter what I say, you're convinced I'm playing games, so I won't disappoint you. I know something happened, and I know it's affecting how you work. And before you ask, yes, if I think you're too broken for this job, then I'll tell McKay so. That's what you've already decided I'm going to do, so I'll follow through."

Gambit spun around, eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"

"A few hours on surveillance. With me," Steed said mildly.

"So you can evaluate me?"

"If you like, yes. If I deem you to be better suited to solo ventures, then I'll say so, and I'll get McKay off your back as well. Just like I told you. Nothing more."

Gambit worked his jaw. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really," Steed said with a disingenuous smile. "I'll collect you tomorrow, shall I? Your flat? At ten? Excellent. I'll see you then."

He sauntered off before Gambit could say a word.