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. David Keel, Cathy Gale, and Emma Peel belong 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: One more chapter to go after this. Gambit crosses paths with an old enemy. But is that a good or bad thing?

Those interested in Steed's experiences at Nee San are invited to pull out their Emma Peel DVDs and give another look to Room Without A View. One of the weaker entries in season four, but pay attention when Steed describes the conditions at the camp to Emma with the sort of conviction bourne of experience. I get the feeling he hasn't only read about what goes on there...

Thanks for all the reviews, by the way! Things have been busy and I haven't had a chance to respond to them all. So I'll just give you all a blanket thank you, and hope you enjoy the last couple chapters of the fic. Next installment of the series should follow shortly after.

The door opened suddenly, spilling painfully bright light into the darkness. Both Gambit and Steed cringed back involuntarily, shielding their eyes against the glare. Gambit peered through his fingers at the four armed guards standing in the doorway, mentally calculated the odds. Between the pair of them, he and Steed could probably disarm two, maybe three, but that always left number four, and while he would likely only have a chance to shoot one of them, Gambit didn't find that conclusion terribly comforting. He glanced Steed's way, hoping to pick something up from the senior agent's expression now that his eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, but it was impossible to read the squinted grey eyes. Even so, surely they both had a better chance of pulling something off if they were taken out of the cell as opposed to being left locked up? Gambit assumed that was what the entourage was for. It made little sense to open up the door and let the light in, and in turn let them see just where the ceiling was, when there was a neat little slat installed in the door itself which would enable their captors to check on them whenever they wished.

Gambit knew he was right the moment one of the guards jerked his gun upwards, indicating for them to stand. Steed and Gambit picked themselves up from the floor, uncurling stiff limbs in the cramped quarters.

"Mechanism break down, or are you out of vacancies?" Gambit quipped to one of their handlers, but all he received for his efforts was a glare. Gambit glanced over his shoulder at Steed. "Friendly bunch, aren't they?"

"Yes, if you've taken a vow of silence," Steed replied. "Or spend an inordinate amount of time at the library. Reading Plato, of course."

Gambit snorted at the reference, and their guards glanced from one to the other in faint bemusement. "In-joke," he murmured by way of explanation, eyes forever searching for an opening. "You had to be there."

"Just get moving," one guard barked, and started prodding them along. Gambit shrugged helplessly at the senior agent, and Steed nodded back. No chance now. Bide your time.

They were led upstairs, two guards in front and two behind, out of the dank basement and onto the first floor. Abbott's décor was a welcome change of surroundings, complete with beautiful antique furniture and polished hardwood floors. Their little band was led down a hallway and into a living area. Abbott was standing behind the couch, hands resting on the back. Steed's apprehended bowler and brolly were sitting on a lovely oak desk, along with Mike's revolver, and ID. Gambit noticed all the blinds had been drawn. Whatever was set to happen here, they didn't want witnesses.

That couldn't be good.

Abbott straightened up when he saw them, rounding the couch to make his way toward them. Gambit noticed Abbot's gaze was fixed on him. He frowned. He wasn't particularly worried, but it was a bit odd. Regardless of his own opinions, he knew in the grand scheme of things Steed was the prize catch. Gambit himself was just that little bit extra. And Abbott had more or less adhered to that assumption before they had been locked up. So why did Abbott suddenly seem so fascinated with him?

It was then that another man entered the room, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Sykes." Gambit growled the word, body tensing visibly, and the guards behind him stood a little straighter, paying their charges a little more heed. The man was just as he'd remembered—six foot, shock of black hair, built on the lanky side, face of a pirate. Which in Gambit's opinion, he more or less was. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Gambit!" Sykes said cheerfully, walking over to meet him as though they were old friends reunited. "Mike Gambit! Now this is a surprise. I thought it had to be you. Not many Gambits about, so when Abbott here said he had you downstairs and handed me your identification, I knew I had to bring you up here. After all, I owe you a thing or two from the old days, starting with this." He pulled back his fist and landed a solid punch to Gambit's solar plexus. Steed's eyes widened in alarm as the younger man doubled over with a wheeze, hands going instinctively to his stomach. To his surprise, Gambit didn't cry out, just locked his jaw against the pain and breathed deep until it had subsided.

"Just like old times," Mike gasped, blue-green eyes glinting dangerously as he looked up at his attacker.

"Yes, it does take me back," Sykes agreed, smiling happily at Gambit's obvious distress. His attention wandered over to Steed, obviously seeking a bit of friendly conversation with his captive audience. "I don't suppose you've known Mike long?"

Steed shook his head. "No," he allowed. If Sykes was in a talking mood it was best to encourage him. When people were talking they had less time for more unpleasant things, and were more likely to let their guard down.

"Pity. Great pity. He was quite the lad back in the day. And I do mean lad. How long's it been? Fifteen years?"

"Not anywhere near long enough," Gambit muttered, wincing as he slowly straightening up.

Sykes tsked. "It has been awhile. I knew Gambit when he was in the navy. He told you he was in the navy, didn't he? Of course it doesn't matter if he did--walk gives it away every time. Do you know, I had half a dozen men his age, all from his ship, ready to turn a blind eye to the contents of half a dozen, ah, special, crates, and Gambit here put a stop to the whole enterprise. Not very sporting. And I don't imagine it made him terribly popular with certain members of his crew, either."

"Really?" Steed said with genuine interest. Gambit had obviously been making a habit of righting wrongs as he saw them, and that boded well. Most men at Gambit's age—around 17—would have been more than keen to take the bribe and turn a blind eye. But clearly Mike Gambit didn't respond well to persuasion, monetary or otherwise. He filed away the information for future use.

"I wasn't very happy, either. We shut down your operation, but we never did catch you," Gambit pointed out. "Free to smuggle another day."

Sykes made a face. "I don't smuggle, Gambit. I, uh, transport certain goods of a delicate nature. Special delivery if you will."

"Smuggler," Gambit repeated, rubbing his stomach ruefully. "Good one, too. Just as well not everyone can be bribed. Otherwise you might get bored. Not much of a challenge."

Sykes smirked. "You did keep me bored for a little while, Gambit, I'll admit. I couldn't run much of anything after the ring was broken. But since then I've moved into a whole new field of work. Most rewarding and very well-paid."

He paused for effect. Gambit's murderous gaze didn't flinch. "Do we really have to go through the script?" he snapped. "Because I'm really not in the mood to play captive audience while you ramble on about how clever you are."

Sykes frowned. "Now, Gambit, surely I'm entitled to a little fun."

"Come a little closer and I'll give all the fun you could want."

"Well, if you're going to be like that…" Sykes turned his attention to Steed. "There's always Mr. Steed here. I'm sure he'd be happy to know what I've been up to."

"Do tell," Steed agreed, face the picture of interest.

"Excellent! You could learn from this one, Gambit."

Gambit's mouth twisted a little at the well-worn refrain. "So I've been told."

"Well, you see, about a year ago I crossed paths with Abbott. It's not terribly important how we met. He's made a deal with the other side, you see. Selling information. Only all the files he's in charge of are very well-monitored. If he were to view a file, and then it ended up in the wrong hands, well, people would get suspicious, wouldn't they? So what else could he possibly sell? What else would he be in charge of that would be a source of information?"

Gambit and Steed's heads turned in unison, and their eyes locked. "Agents," they said as one.

"Yes, very good! Even Gambit's getting into the spirit. Agents! Sykes knows where they'll be on assignment, agents from all departments. People expect you lot to get captured in the line of duty, so it's not terribly suspicious. But then we provide a little extra service. We install them in those rooms downstairs. The basement goes down very far. High ceilings. Well, you've seen them for yourself. A few days in there, with the dark and the constant uncertainty, and something snaps. Then we ship them along, all nicely softened up to their buyers, who extract all the information they require. Naturally I see to it that they arrive intact."

Gambit's eyes were cold. "Human trafficking. That's a new low, even for you, Sykes."

Sykes smirked. "You've not always been a saint yourself, Gambit."

Gambit smirked grimly. "Never said I was, but at least I don't make a habit of selling people."

Sykes shrugged carelessly. "We all have to make our way in the world," he said mildly. "Besides, if there weren't people like me, there'd be no one for boy scouts like you to chase. And then how would you impress the ladies?"

Steed noticed Gambit's self-satisfied smirk and couldn't help but mirror it himself. "I have a feeling I'd be all right," Mike said dryly.

"Well, you won't be when I'm done with you. I don't know how much the pair of you have pieced together about our operation, but you certainly know too much now. Normally I'd kill you, but that seems a waste. I've just been handed two top Ministry agents. Well, I assume you've got in with that lot, Gambit, seeing the sort of company you're keeping. The great John Steed."

"Yes," Gambit said, somewhat begrudgingly. "The great John Steed. Keep it up and his head will be too swelled to fit his bowler."

"Oh, a good old fashioned rivalry. I like that. What is it? Master and pupil? You have my sympathies, Mr. Steed. I tried my best with the boy. He simply cannot be taught. Not unless someone's knocked some sense into his head in the past fifteen years."

Steed smiled slightly, glanced Gambit's way. "Oh, I don't know. I think Gambit has great potential. Perhaps we've all been taking the wrong approach." The grey eyes locked with Gambit's meaningfully, and Mike nodded slightly to confirm he'd gotten the message. Steed was making a pact. At this point, Gambit was willing to take it. And now that he was sure he had Steed onside, he thought he could get them out of this as well.

"Hmm," was all Sykes cared to say on the topic, and moved back over to where Gambit stood. "Well, we'll see how well he learns to adapt to that cell. I don't imagine the pair of you will be as easy to break as the others, but everyone has their limit. It will be very satisfying to see you reduced to a sniveling basketcase."

Gambit snorted. "I'll be a red stain on the floor before that happens," he said unconcernedly, and allowed himself a small smile when the man winced. "Did I say something wrong?"

"We're not going to discuss this," Sykes said sharply, and turned on his heel to walk away. "Take them back downstairs."

Time! Gambit's eyes screamed at Steed. I can get us out, but I need more time!

"Someone will come looking for us," Steed said quickly, and Abbott and Sykes froze, turned to focus their attention on him. "The Ministry assigned us to watch your house. If we go missing, they'll know they were right to be suspicious. That'll lead them straight to the source, to you."

"Every other agent we've taken was on assignment when they went missing. They're no different," Sykes countered, looking to Abbot.

"No, he's right," Abbott argued. "The link's too strong. The fact that they're here means I'm already under suspicion. I can't afford to have them go missing when I'm involved, no matter how indirectly."

"Well, what do you suggest we do? Kill them? Because that won't look any less suspicious when they're found."

"Not to mention the mess," Gambit said cheerfully. "Depending on how you do us in. Blood and guts. Brains all over the wall."

"Stop it!" Sykes screamed. "Not another word!"

Gambit feigned confusion. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Sykes was seething. "You know exactly what you said!"

"All I did was mention something warm and sticky that smells of iron," Gambit said innocently. "What's it called? Oh, yes. Blood." He watched Sykes' face contort with a great deal of pleasure. He noticed Steed's puzzled features and tried to explain. "Old Sykes here had a bit of a phobia. Can't stand blood—the word, the smell, the description. I broke his nose last time we met, and he nearly had a nervous breakdown."

"Don't. Say. That. Word," Sykes growled, storming up to Gambit and thrusting his face up to his. "Not once more, I'm warning you."

"All right, all right. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Gambit replied, seeming to back down. "Bloody hell, you're in a state."

That did it. Sykes' first punch was aimed straight for Gambit's jaw, but Mike seemed to be ready for it, rolled with the force as his head snapped to the side. But the second hit he couldn't dodge, the one aimed straight for his stomach. Sykes grabbed Gambit as he doubled over and pulled him closer so he could put his knee in as well. Gambit slumped against him before falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Steed winced in sympathy. If Gambit made a habit of that sort of thing, he wasn't going to live to be 35.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Sykes spat as his men started to pull the gasping Gambit to his feet. Steed caught a glimpse of the man's face as he got up. Even though it was contorted with pain, he managed to meet Steed's eyes. And winked. Steed bit back a smile and set about preparing himself. He knew he'd be needed soon.

Gambit closed his eyes, mentally steeling himself, letting the pain wash away. He thought Steed had understood. He had to. Otherwise they weren't going to get out of this alive. He gulped down a couple of deep breaths. Sykes' blows had hurt, he couldn't deny it. His body couldn't deny it. But he didn't have time to give in to them just now. Sykes would have them sent away soon, back down to that damned cell, and they wouldn't have another chance. Here it was. The moment of truth.

"Do you know what it is that gets people in trouble?" he asked as conversationally as possible, wrenching open his eyes in spite of the pain and looking to Steed, hoping he'd pick up his half of the dialogue.

"Do tell," came the response. Gambit smiled internally. He knew he shouldn't have doubted him. He was the great John Steed, after all.

"Habits," he answered, and Steed arched an interested eyebrow.

"Bad ones? Biting your nails? Forgetting to lock up before you leave?"

"Anything," Gambit replied. "Habits, routines, they'll be the death of you if you're not careful."

Steed smiled wryly. "Yes, I've been in a bit of a rut myself lately. If it's possible to be bored to death I've had one foot in the grave for months."

Really? Gambit certainly hadn't been expecting that. John Steed made his own excitement. Wasn't that the driving force behind every one of those rumours in the break room? How did someone as revered by the enemy as his own side end up in a routine? No wonder you're so interested in me. I'm your ticket out of the office. That is, if Steed was telling the truth, and not simply feeding him lines. You never knew with Steed.

"But they're particularly dangerous in a job like this one," Gambit went on. He could see Sykes and Abbott trading quizzical glances. Good. The more off-balance they were, the better it was for Steed and Gambit.

Steed sucked air in through his teeth in agreement. "Terrible. It's gotten to the point that you can't settle in for your weekly program without worrying that someone's drawn a bead on your favourite chair."

"Poisoned your pint at your local," Gambit commiserated.

"Highly inconvenient."

"And if it's deadly in your personal life, it's even worse when you're actually on the job."

Steed widened his eyes in horror. "Oh, you wouldn't dare. Not in the field."

"The only way you should be predictable—"

"—is by remaining unpredictable. In every area."

"Tricks, strategies…"

"And weapons. You would think fifteen years on someone—Sykes, say--would relocate his pocketknife. Particularly when someone knows from experience where he hid it last time. Put it in another pocket, at least. Or someplace else. Like here." Steed barely glimpsed the blade as it slid out of Gambit's sleeve before it was whizzing through the air and piercing Sykes' chest right below the left shoulder. He didn't wait for the rest of the occupants of the room to react. Instead he simply grabbed the gun of the man to his left and used it to swing him round into the man to his right. The pair stumbled into one another and went down in a tangle. Steed stepped around them quickly so he could reach his bowler, grabbed it and landed a blow to each head with a metallic clang. Then he snatched up the brolly, unsheathed it in one quick motion, and leapt over his vanquished opponents to dash after the fleeing Abbott. The rapier-thin blade slashed across the traitor's path, biting into the wood near his shoulder. He froze and eyed Steed wearily. The senior agent smiled beatifically.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he said mildly, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to see how his new partner was making out.

Gambit, as it happened, had done fairly well for himself. At the same time Steed had launched his attack, Gambit had seen to it that each of his elbows were introduced to one of his handlers. The first doubled over wheezing, but the second proved much more hardy. He swung back and Gambit only just managed to duck in time, bring his forearm up to block the follow-up blow, and twist the offending arm behind the man's back before sending him crashing to the floor with a boot to the bottom. By now the first man had recovered, and chose that moment to attack from behind, wrapping his arms around Gambit's neck and squeezing. Mike grunted, struggled, then got another elbow in before flipping the man over his shoulder onto the floor. Then he dropped into a crouch and landed a neat chop to the man's neck. Steed looked just in time to catch the technique, eyed up the blow and concluded that it had been made by an expert, noted with approval how the man folded up like a sack of potatoes. Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Steed glanced up just in time to see Sykes, hand clutching at the knife wound, pushing open a window near the front of the room. Still occupied with Abbott, Steed looked back to his new colleague. "Gambit! Sykes!"

Mike twisted in his crouch, caught sight of Sykes. What Steed saw next was nothing short of amazing. In one smooth motion, Gambit went straight from crouch to sprint, heading straight for the desk. Only a foot or two away he left the ground, sailed through the air, hit the desk, grabbed his gun, rolled, and was on his feet, safety off, gun trained on Sykes before the man could put so much as a foot outside.

Judging from the man's gobsmacked expression, Steed clearly wasn't the only one impressed with Gambit's acrobatics. Now the younger man was closing the distance between himself and his old adversary, moving with the grace of a cat stalking its prey.

"Get away from the window," Gambit said quietly.

Sykes snorted in spite of himself. "Or what? You'll kill me? You didn't have the guts to shoot me last time, Gambit, and I doubt you'll do it now, even if it's only because you want to see me brought to justice."

"Who said I had to shoot you?" Gambit replied, mouth twitching evilly. "I was seventeen, Sykes. I've learned a few tricks since then. I know how to do much, much more than just break your nose"

"But did you learn to duck?" Gambit hadn't been expecting Sykes to have the fortitude to pull the knife out of his shoulder in light of his squeamish nature, much less be able to throw the blade with reasonable accuracy when it was slick with blood. But throw he did, right toward Gambit's gun hand, and the way it glanced off the weapon even as he ducked out of the way made Gambit drop his gun. Sykes was on the move again, but Gambit wasn't planning on letting him get very far. He ignored the fallen weapon and sprinted to the window, grabbed Sykes by the collar and hauled him back. Sykes spun, swung, missed, and took the full impact of Gambit's fist with his nose. The man' eyes crossed and he went down in a heap. Gambit flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked over to see how Steed was faring.

"Like some handcuffs?"

"For him, not me," Steed clarified, and Gambit produced a pair from inside his jacket, threw them across the room. Steed caught them one-handed and proceeded to handcuff Abbott to the radiator. Only then did he move to join Gambit at the window to look down at Sykes.

"I think I broke his nose. Again," Mike murmured when Steed was within hearing range, watching the blood bubble out of the fallen man's sinuses. "All that karate and the right hook I had at seventeen saved the day."

"Saved the end of the day, you mean. Don't forget that little tuck and roll earlier," Steed reminded.

Gambit looked at him blankly for a moment. "Oh, that." He shrugged. "Just instinct."

"Best instinct I've seen in a long time," Steed complimented.

"Yeah, well, this last bit wasn't terribly original."

"Originality can, on occasion, be overrated," Steed said, with a pat on the younger man's shoulder. "I think we ought to see about restraining the rest of our friends before they come to. Then I'll make a call to McKay."