Berlin

by rabidsamfan

Purdey, a brand new agent in training, gets tapped by Steed to go and fetch an injured Mike Gambit home. But there are complications, and neither one of them may make it back to London alive.

3. A Friend in Need

Berlin

Chapter 3: A Friend in Need

by rabidsamfan and Timeless A-Peel

Beta by Khell, kibbitzing by clevertoad and cuthalion.

Disclaimer: The New Avengers are copyrighted by Canal+, and this is just for fun. The publicity picture which inspired this story is on a recent trading card from Strictly Ink (though you can see it at http://docs. google. com /View?docID(equalsign)d4pccjp(underline)215hr7t95 if you're curious. Replace the parentheses with the named punctuation and take out the spaces. And curse ff.n's document editor for me, will you?)It's the back of card 70. It clearly predates the series, which gave us the idea and a license to play...

---

Gambit was never quite sure what brought him alert. He had never been very good at sleeping propped up, and the cough seemed to keep trying to reappear just when he'd fallen into a doze, but all the same he'd managed to miss sunrise, and the daylight reflected in through the windows told him he'd probably missed breakfast as well. But the room was quiet, and if there'd been voices in the corridor outside the hotel room door they'd gone silent. But there was something. He checked the door and as he watched the doorhandle sank slowly, as if someone were testing it from the far side.

He tried to sit up the rest of the way too quickly and set off an even worse fit than usual, the coughs deep in his chest and painful on their own account in a way that they hadn't been last night. The doorhandle returned quickly to a normal position, but he knew that whoever was out there would persist in trying to get in. He knew he would, if he were in their shoes.

Purdey was still curled up in the armchair by the bed, sleeping the sleep of the weary, her feet tucked up under the hem of the "standard issue" nightgown. Standard issue. Gambit's eyes went to the suitcase she'd brought with her and recognized the size and shape if not the color for the first time. Thank you, Steed! He reached over and shook the knee he could reach. "Purdey..." he whispered as softly as he could. "Purdey, wake up." He hated to disturb her, but the suitcase was sitting across the room, and he had the unhappy feeling that if he tried to go and fetch it himself he'd end up flat on his face.

Her head came up like a periscope and she blinked at him once or twice before he saw recognition in her eyes. He put a finger to his lips to signal silence. That brought her awake, and her quick check of the room before she looked back to him made him want to smile. Thank heavens she's got the right instincts for this work, he thought. Now I just hope she's learned how to fight. He pantomimed the size and shape of the suitcase, pretended to pull on a handle in the air, and after a moment of knitted brows she nodded and uncoiled herself from the chair, looking incongruously like a schoolchild angel from a Nativity play in the oversized white nightgown. As she padded over to fetch back the suitcase to him, the person on the other side of the door tried to open it again. Purdey froze for a moment and then looked a startled, frightened question to Gambit with her eyes.

He nodded and signalled with both hands for her to bring the suitcase quickly. She didn't understand why -- that was clear -- but she did it, and then picked up one of the table lamps as she darted back over to stand by the hinges of the door, hefting it like the weapon she meant it to be.

Gambit could do better than that, if he could do it in time. He opened the suitcase quickly and dumped out the contents, sliding his hand along the sides to find the hidden panels. One. Two. Three. Four. A handle, a triggering mechanism, a barrel, and just enough ammunition to get out of a jam. He'd fired one of the department's emergency zipguns once, just to know what to expect if he ever had to do it in earnest, but he'd never had to assemble one with sweaty hands, or with the pressure of hearing the pick-locks turn the cylinders as he went along.

He wasn't ready by the time the door eased open, but Purdey was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her swing down her lamp a moment too early, in time to hit the hand of the intruder, but too soon to do any damage where it would matter. The door slammed open, knocking her back and a burly, blond man barrelled in, but Gambit couldn't take the time to really watch what was happening in the fight. He had to get the spring into place, and lock down the barrel.

There! He looked up just in time to see Purdey push herself off of the wall, hitch up her nightgown, and bring up one long leg in a kick that sent her opponent flying backwards into the bed. That was Gambit's cue. He grabbed for the man's coat collar and missed, but the other hand had the zipgun ready. "Hold still!" he shouted, "or I'll shoot!"

Shouting set off the coughs again, but he managed not to pull the trigger -- which was good, because the face that turned to look at him was that of a friend. "Bloody hell, Mike!" Terry Coyne said. "Put that thing down before you hurt someone."

He shook his head, trying to make sense of the new development. Of all the people who might have shot him as he came over the wall, Terry was near the bottom of the list. Hell, last he knew, Terry had been in Malta. "What..." he swallowed the coughs, made himself speak clearly. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Steed got worried when Purdey didn't call in." Terry turned to look at the girl, who was watching the two men with confused eyes. "You are Purdey, aren't you? Steed did say he'd sent a beautiful young lady in to bring Gambit out."

"How do you know my name?" she asked tensely, hefting the broken lamp she'd snatched up from the floor.

"Steed called me up when I was about to get a flight home and told me to divert to Berlin and find out what had gone wrong. He was expecting you two back in London yesterday."

"That's why you're in Berlin." Purdey's voice hadn't lost any of its ice. "Why are you here?"

"Pure luck. I needed a place to sleep after running around all night trying to find you two again and when I went to sign in downstairs I saw the name Mabel Horrocks in the hotel registry." Coyne held up both hands pacifically. "Look, Steed said to mention Debussy to Gambit and to tell you that he pulled you out of karate class. Beginners karate class, yet," he added ruefully, rubbing at the red mark on his chin. "I've got a radio in my room if you want to talk to him yourselves."

Gambit looked at Purdey and she nodded, although she looked like she was doing sums in her head. "That's probably best," she agreed slowly.

"Didn't you call in from the train station?" Gambit asked her. "When you got the suitcases?"

She flushed. "I forgot."

She looked so flustered that Gambit laughed and relaxed. It was just like Steed to send in a second man -- agent -- when the first one hadn't checked in. But he'd like to be certain. "The radio's probably a good idea," he told Coyne.

"I'll be right back," Coyne said. Then he cocked an eyebrow at the gun Gambit was still holding. "Or would you rather she went along with me to make sure I behave?" He waggled the eyebrow suggestively.

Gambit snorted. "I know you better than to let you get yourself alone with a pretty girl, old chap," he said, falling into the familiar round of teasing. "Behaving would be the last thing on your mind."

"I'm not the lad whose just spent the night with her in the honeymoon suite," Terry pointed out. "Although I have to say you don't look like you're in any shape to have enjoyed it."

Gambit caught the worried note, although he didn't think Purdey would. She didn't know Coyne well enough. "I'm okay," he said, and then promptly proved himself a liar by having to cough again. "Mostly."

"You look like sh... something warmed over," Coyne said frankly. "Why not stay in hospital where you were being taken care of?"

"It's a long story," Gambit's suspicions were mostly allayed, but he'd wait until they had Steed on the radio before he explained. There was still a sliver of a chance that Coyne had been turned, and he didn't want to risk Purdey. Fortunately, Terry knew him too well to take offense.

"Should be interesting," he said. "My name's Terry by the way," he offered a hand to Purdey as he rose to go, and she took it automatically. "Terry Coyne. I do hope you'll accept my apologies for banging you into the wall like that. I wasn't expecting you to be quite so..."

"Efficient?" she finished for him, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Dangerously beautiful," he replied, kissing her hand and making a little bow to her.

"The radio," Gambit growled the reminder, hoping that Purdey could see through Terry's wiles. It was a distinct disadvantage to be stuck in bed when the competition was fast on his feet.

"Right," Terry said, flashing a wink at Gambit before he turned to go. "Be right back."

When he'd gone Purdey closed the door behind him and turned to look at Gambit, a smile playing across her face. "Friend of yours?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Gambit allowed. He let himself lean back against the pillows again. "Did he hurt you?" She wasn't moving as smoothly as she had yesterday.

"I banged my hip on the occasional table," she said. "But I'm all right otherwise. A little stiff from the chair." She yawned and came over to sit down by him again. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay." And then, when her skeptical expression told him that he hadn't been believed, added, "I could use a drink. Orange juice for preference."

"Do you think it will stay down?" She reached over to touch his forehead and cheek.

"Something has to."

"Hmm." She nodded agreement, but she got out the thermometer anyway. "Here. You're not as warm as you were last night, but I think you're still feverish."

"Mph." Effectively forestalled from talking by having his temperature taken, he watched her instead as she called room service and ordered enough breakfast for a small army -- as well as a carafe of orange juice. That done, she took the suitcase and began to collect all the things he'd dumped out of it. In spite of her business-like air he could see that her hands were trembling and he wondered if it was because she was tired or if she'd been unsettled by the fight with Terry. He hoped it was that she was tired. New or not, he'd already come to think of her as an asset to the cause, and he'd have hard words for Steed if she got frightened out of the profession before she'd properly began.

The tap on the door came just as it was time to check the thermometer, and Purdey took it with her as she crossed the room. "Who is it?"

"Terry."

"Oh..." She opened the door and let him in, sparing only a glance to be sure he was alone before her eyes went to the thermometer.

Coyne saw it and paused. "What does it read?"

"Thirty seven point eight." She met his worried look and smiled tightly. "It was worse last night."

"Well, that's something anyway." The two of them looked in unison at Gambit and he suppressed a sigh. They were going to gang up on him, no doubt, and he'd be lucky if he didn't end up back in hospital.

"I'm fine," he growled mendaciously.

Coyne snorted and used his foot to close the door. Both of his hands were full, one with a standard suitcase and one with a smaller case which Gambit knew to be the radio. "Right, and I'm the King of Prussia," he said, bringing his burdens over to the bed. "Gambit's always fine," he added to Purdey in a conversational way, "even when he's too drunk to remember how to walk. There was this one time we were in Tokyo..."

"Could we skip the reminiscences and call Steed?" Gambit interrupted. "I really do need to report in."

But Steed, much to Gambit's frustration, hadn't reached the Department yet that morning, and this was one conversation Gambit didn't intend to have without scrambling the signal. He had to settle for a promise from the radio-girl that she would track Steed down and get him to call back as soon as possible.

Gambit flipped the switch on the radio to standby, and scowled at it.

"It's still pretty early in London," Purdey offered. "He's probably on his way."

"Not that early." Gambit rubbed at his forehead, trying to ease the growing headache. His doubts about Terry, not that he really had any, not seriously, were on very thin ice now. Gambit knew every girl in that communications room, and that had definitely been Helena answering his questions -- he'd have flirted with her if he felt better -- she was good at flirting back. So they'd contacted the right building anyway. Probably. "I could use an aspirin," he admitted. Paranoia wasn't his long suit.

"Aspirin?" Terry echoed. "You must be feeling it. I don't think I've ever heard you admit you needed an aspirin, not even after a three day bender."

"I've had hangovers I've enjoyed more," Gambit said. "Though come to think of it, alcohol might help the cough."

Terry went for his hip flask. "Ouzo, I'm afraid, but it'll have to do. My first aid stuff is at the bottom of the Aegean."

"Mine's still the other side of the Wall." Gambit countered, wondering what Terry had been up to this time and knowing better than to ask. "But there ought to be something left in Purdey's kit."

"What kit?" Purdey interrupted her own yawn to ask.

Gambit cocked his head at her. "Didn't I see a red zipper pouch come out of that suitcase of yours?"

"Yes," she said, frowning. "But I thought it was makeup. It felt like makeup." She unfolded herself from the chair where she'd been sitting and crouched by the suitcase, flipping open the locks. In a moment she had the zipper case out and was investigating the contents.

Laughing hurt, and set off a few coughs, but Gambit couldn't help it, seeing the dismay on her face as she pulled a packet of aspirin out from the rest. "You really didn't read the inventory, did you? Not even while I was sleeping?"

"No," she said, disgustedly. "I read fashion magazines. If you want to know what kind of shoes you should have shopped for and which shops to shop for them at six months ago in Frankfurt, I'm your girl." She blushed very nicely, Gambit couldn't help but notice.

"Just as well," he managed not to laugh again, but he couldn't keep from smiling. "Had to keep your cover intact with the nurses walking in and out, and they wouldn't have expected you to be rooting through your suitcase counting stockings."

Coyne went over to collect the aspirin and give her a hand-up. "Didn't you have time to go over it before you left London?"

Purdey shook her head, accepting the help gratefully. "No. Steed had me on that plane so fast my head was still spinning. I was to get Gambit home -- on a stretcher if necessary -- by the next possible flight. But it turned out he can't fly yet. Not until his lung heals up."

Terry frowned. "My instructions are much the same. But if Gambit can't fly..."

"So we'll get new instructions," Gambit said. "The aspirin?"

"Sorry, old sport." Terry took two aspirins from the packet and handed them to Gambit, who would have swallowed them dry if Purdey hadn't headed into the bathroom to refill his glass of water. Terry leaned a little closer, ostensibly to rearrange the pillows holding Gambit up. "Just how new is she?" he asked quietly, casting a worried glance after her.

"Very," Gambit said, just as softly. "But she's managed to get all the important things right. I'm still in one piece, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Coyne asked, picking up the pillow that Gambit had been using as a brace. "Looks to me like you've been leaking."

Gambit grabbed back the pillow and hid the stains before Purdey could see them. "No worse than..." another round of coughs interrupted him, protesting the sudden movement.

"Right," Terry said, shaking his head. "Why is it always me who ends up with the baby?"

---

Purdey was a little surprised when Terry Coyne appropriated the medical kit and shanghaied Gambit into the bathroom, but she couldn't help feeling grateful. If she'd learned one thing during that mad dash through the train station last night it was that Gambit was heavy. Besides, Terry seemed to know just how to bully the man without stepping on his pride.

Safely alone in the main room she dared to pull up the nightgown and examine her incipient bruises in the mirror. Too bad all of the icepacks had long since melted. She'd be sore for a good long while with this lot. Maybe she could go down the hall while the men were busy...

First things first. She lay down on the floor to wangle the envelope out from its hiding place behind the radiator. She was just starting to rise again when another tap on the door nearly startled her out of her skin, but the call of "Room Service" through the thick wooden panels reminded her that she'd sent for breakfast. She stuffed the envelope hastily back into her purse and the purse under the blankets and went to answer the door. The bellhop who was standing there had an entire cart of covered plates, all of them wafting out pleasant odors. Her stomach rumbled impolitely at the prospect, and her nervousness was lost in a sudden wash of greed as he steered the cart into the room and began transferring plates to the table.

"Good morning, Frau Horrocks," the boy bobbed like one of the drinking birds in the tourist shops. "You will sign, please?" He held out a slip for her and Purdey signed it hastily, so grateful to the fates that had made him remind her of who she was supposed to be before she wrote "P" instead of "M" that she added a generous tip to the total.

"I don't have my purse to hand," she apologized mendaciously. It wasn't like there was any money left in it for tips anyway. "But have Herr Liebermann give the extra to you for me."

He took back the slip and his eyes widened at the number. The second bob of his head was even deeper. "Danke. Danke schön," he said, and departed with the cart.

The moment he'd gone Terry Coyne pulled the bathroom door open the rest of the way and came out to fetch his suitcase. "Don't forget to lock the door," he reminded Purdey, who had started investigating plates. "We're not going to want interruptions."

"Right," Purdey said around a mouthful of bacon. She was suddenly ravenous. But she made herself go and lock the door before she settled in to filling the hole in her middle. Somewhere in the middle of her breakfast the two men emerged from the bathroom, Gambit looking somewhat better with a fresh shave, although he was nearly as pale as he'd been when she'd first seen him. Terry had rebandaged his chest and arm, and she suspected that he'd taken care of the leg wound as well, though it was impossible to tell since he'd also come up with a pair of striped pyjama bottoms. They weren't Gambit's, Purdey was sure of that much. She'd been into his suitcase more often than her own. "You've been busy," she observed.

Terry got Gambit into the bed before he answered. "Just as easy to work where the water was."

"You'd think after last night I wouldn't need another bath," Gambit said tiredly. "As much as I've sweated though, it's no wonder I feel like a piece of dried cod."

Purdey poured out some orange juice and brought it over to him. "Here."

"Thanks." He drank off half the glass before he brought it down again so he could cough.

"Here." Coyne had come up with a small packet of pills from the medical kit. "Take one of these and then eat something."

"What are those?" Purdey asked.

"A new kind of antibiotic," Coyne said. "One pill a day for five days. But you need to eat something when you take them or they'll give you the... er... they'll upset your stomach."

"And that's one complication we really don't need," Gambit muttered. But he took the pill. "Gah. I hope they do something about the taste before it gets to the market." He drank off the rest of the orange juice as a chaser and handed the glass back to Purdey. "Is there any more?"

"Plenty," she said. "And some chicken soup too." That hadn't been her idea -- she suspected that Margot had left directions for the kitchen -- but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant getting some nutrition into Gambit.

He nodded and closed his eyes, "That'll do."

She dished up some soup for him and poured some more juice, but went back to eating her own breakfast when it became clear that Gambit could manage on his own. The coughing eased and his color improved after a bit -- but she couldn't tell if that were due to the pills, the food, or the liquor. It was enough of an improvement that the worried crease on Terry's forehead smoothed away, though, and he came over to have some food and flirt with her instead of watching over Gambit.

"I hope you haven't taken all your notions of field agents from Mike," he said, dishing himself some scrambled eggs. "Some of us are gentlemen."

"Yeah, and some of us aren't," Gambit put in. "You don't want to fall for an old soldier like Terry. His favorite song is Auprés de ma Blonde."

"As if an old sailor like Mike's got anything to boast about. Girl in every port, and all that."

"I'm not planning on falling for anyone, thanks," Purdey informed them archly. "Besides, you'll have to get in line behind my classmates."

Gambit grinned. "If it's priority we're talking about, I'm well ahead, then. Nearly twenty four hours now."

Terry waved the consideration aside. "I've got seniority."

"Signing the roster on the line above mine first day of training does not constitute seniority." Gambit said, and the pair of them wandered off into a discussion of who did what first that threatened to go right back to birthdays. But it was an old argument, cheerfully made, and Purdey watched the two of them batting it back-and-forth with amusement. She was almost sorry when the radio beeped and interrupted them.

Terry reached over and picked up the microphone. "Coyne here."

"Steed," came the polite answer. "Have you located our missing pair, then?"

"They're sitting right here, listening," Terry said. "Gambit's hospital room was bugged, so they switched over to Der Blaue Adler in the middle of the night."

"Ah... yes, I see Josef has opened a running account on the usual bank. Two, in fact."

"Well, I needed to get some sleep and I thought they'd managed to get aboard a train out. Just chance I picked the same hideyhole. Which one of them do you want to talk to first?"

"Purdey."

She tried not to flinch as she took the microphone, but her embarrassment at having forgotten to call in was soon allayed by Steed's breezy dismissal of her apology. "Just as well -- I'd have had to bring another man in to pick up the job Gambit was sent in for anyway, and this way Terry can get the story straight from the horse's mouth instead of trying to pick up details from a report."

"I'll do better next time," she promised herself as much as anyone else.

"You've done well this time," Steed said. "But if you'd rather pass Gambit over to Coyne and fly back now I'll understand."

She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "No, I'm here. I may as well finish what I started."

"Good girl. Just don't forget to call for help if you need it -- reverse the charges if necessary."

"Yes, sir." She handed the microphone over and went to the couch to collect her nerves and stretch out her legs while Gambit took his turn at reporting. A lot of what he was saying was new to her, but with a full stomach and a chance to relax she couldn't really follow along. She was aware of Terry hovering over the couch long enough to cover her with a blanket, and tuck a pillow behind her head, but only long enough to be grateful. She slept.

---

Gambit talked until he was hoarse and the low-battery signal had flipped on, making certain that he'd passed along every scrap of information he'd managed to gather. "That's it, except for the photograph. And I can't see taking a chance on checking it for fingerprints here. Even if we stood over the lab tech, I don't think we could be certain the evidence would get "accidentally" destroyed."

"I see," Steed said. "How certain are you that the fingerprints are there?"

"Maybe sixty percent. No more. I wasn't in the best position to watch," Gambit admitted. "And once I'd got my hands on it there wasn't time to try to lift the prints myself. Nor the right equipment."

"All right. Bring it with you. Terry can take care of the rest of it, but I want you, that photograph, and Purdey out of Berlin on the next flight."

Gambit shook his head. "The doctor said no plane trips for a few days. And the way I feel he's probably right."

"The next train, then." Steed ordered. "I'll fly over to meet you in Frankfurt. If I can button up a few things here first, that is."

Terry, who hadn't had any qualms about digging through Purdey's purse once Gambit had mentioned the envelope, took the microphone. "Let them rest a while and go out this afternoon, Steed. From what I can see Purdey's already bought tickets for the 4:00 train to Munich. That will give you a chance to finish your buttoning and me a chance to catch up with myself before I escort them to the station. Besides, if I can get some fresh batteries, I can pass in my report on the Malta business before I get tangled up here."

"The four o'clock train to Munich." Steed acknowledged. "I'll be there to meet it. If you need to contact me after I've left the building, use the hat frequency."

Terry signed off and put the radio away. Gambit looked at him. "We probably could have caught the next train," he said.

"Didn't want to wake Purdey yet," Terry admitted. "She looks like she could use the sleep. And this gives me a few hours to see if I can't get your suit cleaned and run an errand or two."

"And what am I meant to do while you run around doing laundry?" Gambit asked.

"Give that antibiotic a chance to work," Terry said firmly. "Look, I won't be gone long. I don't mean to let anyone know that I've been in contact with you -- not even Liebermann if I can avoid it. But those trousers smell like something died in them."

"Very funny."

"Either that or you've been wearing them for a week," Terry went on. Gambit struggled to sit up, but gave up and chucked a pillow at him instead.

"Just you wait until I've healed. I'll have your hide next time Spence sets us against one another," he warned.

"Not if I can wrestle Purdey first." Terry put a hand over his heart and made googly eyes at the sleeping girl on the couch. "I wouldn't mind getting her on the mat."

Gambit snorted. "From what I saw, you'll end up the worse for it. I've never seen anyone kick like that," he said with a touch of admiration. "She was in the ballet, you know."

Terry let out a low whistle. "I knew the arts could be dull, but never deadly. You think all ballet dancers are like that?"

Gambit cast a fond look at Purdey. "No, I think she's a one-off."

"Pity," Terry lamented. "Last time I needed rescuing Steed sent Farquharson. "

Farquharson was quite possibly the ugliest man in the Department, if not the ugliest man in England, but Gambit regretted laughing when the chuckles turned into more coughs. Terry reacted instantly, setting the pillow Gambit had chucked at him against the injured man's side and pulling out the flask of ouzo. "Just a sip," he warned, as he propped Gambit up to drink. "On the other hand, maybe I should stick around."

"I'm okay," Gambit said as soon as he could.

"Well, you sound more like yourself," Terry conceded. "I was beginning to think that fever had boiled your brain." But there was still worry in his eyes behind the gentle teasing.

"I just need to remember not to laugh," Gambit said. "Leave the ouzo here and I'll manage."

"I'll do better than that." Terry put his foot up on the bed and pulled the gun out of his ankle holster. "Here. Try not to shoot me when I come back, all right?"

Gambit nodded, trying not to show how much better he felt with the comfortable shape of a revolver in his hand and knowing Terry would see through him anyway.

"You're the only one who knows where we are. Well, and Steed."

"And Liebermann. And don't count on no one knowing where I am, either. I went nosing around the hospital after I got tossed off the train for not having a ticket. According to their records you're dead."

"I am?" Gambit hadn't expected that.

"Yeah. Heart failure in the middle of the night. The body's in the morgue awaiting autopsy. And Aunt Mabel has gone to a hotel with a sedative. If I hadn't seen you both at the train station I'd have been worried. As it was, I thought you'd bribed the nurses to throw off pursuers." Terry scratched his chin. "Thing is, by the time I left there, I wasn't exactly checking for tails."

That wasn't good. "You could probably just rinse those trousers out in the sink, you know."

"I could, but I still need those batteries. And if they see me out there hunting for you they won't think I've already found you." Terry grinned. "Might as well do things right and get your suit cleaned while I'm at it."

"Doesn't leave me with anything to wear if you get taken out." Gambit's other suit had been cut off him in the emergency room, and the spare outfit was still stashed in East Berlin.

"I'll leave you my suitcase," Terry promised. "You might have to use a belt, but at least my jeans are clean."

"I'll look like I've been in a flood." Gambit had two inches on Terry and most of it was in the legs.

"Yeah, but in a wheelchair it won't matter."

"What wheelchair?"

"The one I'm going to arrange for." Terry only laughed at Gambit's sour expression. "Come on, Mike, what's she meant to do, carry you?" He waved a hand at the sleeping girl. "I knew you tired the ladies out, but this has to be a record."

Gambit managed a grin at that. "She's kept up with me better than most. Steed knows how pick them, I'll give him that." But she did look tired – exhausted really. He didn't remember a lot of the previous night, but he remembered the way she'd fallen asleep leaning against his back. "I don't think I'd have made it this far without her," he admitted fondly.

"You keep admitting you need help and I'll think you've been swapped," Terry warned unalarmed. He went to collect the pieces of Gambit's wardrobe that needed cleaning. "Not much left in this suitcase," he said.

"Combine it with Purdey's and there'll be one less thing for us to carry," Gambit suggested. "I can always get another."

"When I get back," Terry agreed. He collected the room key from the bedtable. "I'll hang out the do not disturb sign, so don't worry about the maid."

"Better knock two and three a couple of times before you turn the key, so I know it's you anyway," Gambit warned. He didn't want to find himself shooting Coyne because he was half asleep, and he knew that once the room got quiet he was going to have trouble staying alert, in spite of the danger.

"Right. Two and three. Hope it won't wake up Purdey." Terry made for the door. He stopped when he reached it, and cast one last look at the sleeping girl. "Keep an eye on her, eh?"

"I intend to," Gambit assured him.

"And take of yourself while you're at it, Mike. Can't very well humiliate you in the gym if you're laid up, can I?"

"I'm okay," Gambit said with exaggerated patience, and then grinned when Terry made an elaborate bow as acknowledgement. "Well, okay for the next twenty minutes or so anyway. Now bugger off. The sooner you get out of here the sooner you'll get back so I can sleep."

---

Purdey roused a couple of times, hearing voices, although whenever she pried open an eye to check it was only Gambit and Coyne, so she could ignore them and go back to sleep. But she couldn't ignore it when someone started rocking her shoulder gently. "Purdey. Purdey-girl."

"Mmm," she groaned, and tried to roll away. She'd forgotten she was on the couch, and might've ended up an untidy heap on the floor if a pair of hands hadn't caught her and held her back. Her eyes snapped open, and she was surprised to blearily make out Gambit's features. He smiled at her.

"Good afternoon," he said.

"Afternoon?" Purdey pushed herself up to a sitting position and covered a yawn. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Long enough, I hope," Gambit informed her. He was installed in an armchair that had been set next to the couch, already dressed in slacks and shirt, and looking a lot more human than she felt at the moment. "It's half past two. We've got to get ready if we're going to make our train."

"Looks like you've already done that," she said.

"Terry obliged," Gambit said, nodding at the other agent, who was busy with crockery at the table.

"Just like playing with my kid sister's paperdolls," Terry said, grinning back at her over his shoulder. "Cream or sugar in your coffee? It's only instant, I'm afraid."

"None for me thanks," Purdey said, pulling a face. "I don't drink coffee."

"You will once you start taking regular assignments," Gambit said knowingly.

"If I made it through Swan Lake without coffee, I doubt chasing after men who haven't learned how to dodge is going to change my mind."

"Tea then?" Terry asked. "The water's hot, and there are some bags left from breakfast."

"That would be lovely, thank you. Just sugar, though." Purdey craned her neck a little, wondering where Terry had come up with the electric carafe. "I don't suppose anything else is left from breakfast?"

"Just some rolls and jam," Terry said. "No, don't get up -- we've got to have a powwow, might as well do it now." He brought over two cups and distributed them. "Here."

Purdey took her cup and sipped at it. "Not bad."

"Oh, I'm thoroughly housebroken, I am," Terry grinned. "Make some lucky girl a wonderful husband." He pulled Gambit's suitjacket off the back of a chair and held it up. "Cookery, stitchery..."

"Foolery," Gambit added, passing his coffee to Purdey long enough to allow Terry to help him into the jacket.

"It's an advantage to be versatile," Terry said, quirking an eyebrow at Purdey. "Don't you think?"

"Yes," she said, hiding a grin. "If you're planning on hiring on as a housekeeper."

"Spang!" Terry pantomimed being heartstruck and gave Gambit a doleful look. "Here I am, working my fingers to the bone..."

"Stow it," Gambit advised cheerfully. "We're not in the market. Not yet." He winked, and Purdey laughed.

"I'm not in the market at all, thanks. I can cook for myself." It was amazing how much better she felt after a few hours of sleep. More like herself at any rate, and less vulnerable to Gambit's grin. Or the twinkle in those sea-blue eyes. Maybe a little vulnerable to the way that his suit had been tailored -- she hadn't been able to study his shoulders from a decent distance last night, and it was a very nice job of tailoring -- but a proper nap had restored her sense of balance.

Terry brought over the bread and jam, and then went to fetch the other armchair, which had been propped in front of the door into the hallway sometime during the morning. Purdey vaguely remembered seeing Terry dozing there, and guessed that he'd been tagged with guard duty while she caught up a little on her sleep.

"So," she said, once they'd both had a few sips of coffee and she'd demolished a slice of bread with jam. "What do we do now?"

"I go tie up a few loose ends and then get you two onto that train," Terry said, flashing her a smile. "I hope you don't mind that I've taken a few things from your suitcase."

"Since I barely know what's in there, I can scarcely object, can I?" she said. Then curiosity got the better of her. "What did you take?"

"Oh, the girdle, the blue dress, a pair of stockings... Just the usual sort of thing."

Purdey gave him a top to toe once-over, her eyebrow high. "I don't think they'd fit you any better than they fit me."

Terry grinned. "Oh, they're not for me. They're for the tail I picked up while I was chasing around trying to find out what had happened to you two. I figure he's going to have a very hard time explaining himself to the police if I leave him... er... disguised."

Purdey could just imagine it. "Don't forget to take my lipstick," she advised. "That's even harder to explain."

Gambit shook his head, but he was grinning too. "Not as hard as eyeshadow."

Terry's square face took on an air of absolutely fiendish delight. "You'd be the one to know," he smirked.

Purdey tried not to giggle as Gambit eyed the blond agent with mock disdain. "That," he said, his stern air somewhat impaired by the smile that was still lingering on his lips, "was business Which we still have to attend to, if you recall."

Terry winked at Purdey. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Budapest," Gambit intoned, earning an alarmed look from Terry. "You're not the only one who's got a tale or two to tell, old boy."

That was the end of Purdey. She put her head back and laughed. "Honestly, the pair of you!"

"Well, if a job like this can't be fun..." they chorused, and then broke up as well.

Gambit's laugh, inevitably, turned into a cough, which sobered the other two. But he managed to get it under control with the last of the ouzo from Terry's flask and a lot of determination, and the grin he gave them both was cocky. "Better than it was last night," he said.

Purdey wasn't so sure. The coughs seemed deeper to her. But there was no denying that Gambit's forehead felt cool, and his color was good. "I'd feel better if we could get Dr. Buchheim to look you over," she admitted.

"No chance of that," Terry said. "Buchheim was poisoned last night. He's in serious condition over at the Franklin Institute -- and lucky that his wife refused to let him think it was the flu."

Purdey's eyes opened wide. "Poisoned?"

Gambit patted her hand. "Don't you think he would have made a stir if I'd disappeared out of the hospital?"

She bit her lip. Gambit was right -- Dr. Buchheim would definitely have made complications if the kidnapping plot had worked -- as long as he wasn't in on it. She just wasn't sure how she felt about the reminder that it wasn't just the players in the game who were in danger, but bystanders as well. "I hope he'll be all right."

Gambit smiled. "When we're safe at home we can check back and see," he promised. "In the meantime..."

"In the meantime we'll have to rely on long distance advice," Terry said. "Steed's promised to have a wheelchair delivered -- you'll have to sign for it Purdey -- and he's going to have some prescriptions for Gambit called over, too. The name of the druggist is written on the ticket packet, just in case, but hopefully I'll be able to pick them up and get back here before you need to leave for the station. But I'll have to head out pretty soon," Terry collected himself after a glance at his watch. "If I'm not back in time..." he said.

"If you're not back in time we'll handle it," Gambit said. "Sure you don't want all those extra tickets now?"

"Not until I'm sure you're not going to need them," Terry said. He drained his coffee cup and got to his feet. He nodded to Purdey, "Keep an eye on Mike, will you? He owes me money."

As soon as Terry had gone, Purdey started collecting the cups and plates. "Don't worry about those," Gambit said. "All you need to do is get ready. Unless you're particularly attached to that nightgown. Doesn't do your legs justice, though."

Purdey rolled her eyes, but forbore to comment. There was no use encouraging him. "Do you think you'll be all right if I take a shower?"

"That's why we woke you up now," Gambit said. "Go on. You'll feel more human if you're clean, and the things you hung on the bathroom door were dry last time Terry checked."

"Right." Purdey rooted through the pile of things that Terry had made on the bed until she found the things she needed to deal with her hair. "Give me half an hour."

---

Twenty minutes later Purdey eased open the bathroom door and poked her damp head out to check on Gambit. He was still in the armchair--moving around unassisted was something he couldn't afford anymore. He'd pushed much too hard already. The most he'd been able to manage while she was showering was getting his shoes and stockings on by himself. Small triumphs are better than none. He smiled at her and waved reassuringly.

"Ready?"

"Just about. My hair." She gestured vaguely at the soggy auburn straggles. "What's all this about prescriptions?" she asked as she located the hotel's hair dryer and switched it on.

"Steed called in Dr. Kendrick," Gambit began.

"What?" Purdey yelled over the roar.

Gambit sighed. Unless he was prepared to shout the arrangements, he had to get in hearing range. After all, there were enough risks involved without broadcasting everything to anyone in a five block radius. He took a deep breath, somehow managed to get himself upright, and made his way slowly for the bathroom. Purdey almost dropped the dryer when he came through the door, rushing to support him. "Are you mad?" she scolded.

"Only a little," he managed. "Blame Steed--I think some of his eccentricity is rubbing off on me."

"You could have worse role models," Purdey allowed, putting down the lid on the loo, and getting Gambit ensconced before going back to styling her hair with dryer and brush. "You were saying?"

"Steed's getting advice from Kendrick. You know him don't you?"

"Yes -- he did my physical."

"Right, well Terry read Steed a song and dance about how awful I looked and Steed said he'd get Kendrick to do a long distance diagnosis."

"What kind of prescriptions are they likely to be?" Purdey asked. "And how soon are you likely to need them?"

"Codeine," Gambit elaborated, "and some traditional antibiotics, at the request of dear old Uncle John." The tone on the last two words suggested Gambit had less than warm feelings for Steed's ultimatum.

"Well, if you're half as tired as you sound, we've got to get something," Purdey pointed out logically.

"I'm not nearly that tired," Gambit protested. "It's just the coughing takes it out of me. But I'll fetch you home in one piece."

"It's the other way 'round, remember?" Purdey pointed out. "It's my job to get you home in one piece."

"Too late for that," Gambit retorted. "Besides, I told you that I'd just as soon not have your blood on my hands, and I intend keep it that way -- even if I have to drag you back to London."

Purdey raised an eyebrow. "How? Cough me into submission? Germ warfare?"

"I could fall on you," Gambit suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "By accident, of course. Spend a nice afternoon on top. And if I did it right, good old Terry might jump to the wrong conclusions and let us alone for a bit."

Purdey snorted. "You'll have to try better than that. You're not that heavy."

"Oh, good. I was worried the schnitzel was getting to me."

Purdey shook her head, and swapped the dryer for the can of hairspray she'd found in her suitcase. "If I'm going to last in this job," she told the mirror as she fussed with the brush a moment longer, "I'm going to need a practical hairdo. Curls are too high-maintenance."

Gambit ran a hand through his own set of thick, dark curls with a cocky grin. "Not when they're natural," he told her. "Don't even have to brush if you're in a hurry."

Purdey started shaking the can absentmindedly, still thinking about alternative styles. "Not everyone was blessed with, what, lovely Welsh genes?" she hazarded to Gambit's reflection.

"Partly," Gambit allowed. "But the curls are courtesy of my Irish Gran."

"I see," Purdey murmured, looking Gambit over as subtly as possible, thinking that the pair mixed well. "The Scots in me wasn't nearly so obliging." She started spraying.

"Scots wha' ha', hey? Is that where you got the red?"

Purdey wrinkled her nose at his reflection to express her opinion of the pun. "No, I got that from my other Grandmother -- same bottle. No one takes blondes seriously."

"Depends on the blonde," Gambit said, grinning unrepentantly. "Still, a touch of Scotland explains those big blue eyes of yours -- you could do a fair bit of damage with them." He flinched as a cloud of hairspray washed over him in the tiny bathroom and tried to wave it away but the chemical made him choke, and started another round of coughing. "Careful with that stuff. Ginger or blonde, you don't need your hair to look like a bloody helmet."

Purdey stopped hurriedly and opened the door wider to let the air circulate, crouching beside him as his body shuddered with each cough. "I forgot," she apologised, waving her arms to clear the air.

Gambit shook his head. "'S okay," he managed, but kept coughing.

"No, it's not," Purdey retorted, moving to help him up, to get him out of the confines of the bathroom. She got him as far as the bed, but he didn't stop coughing, and Purdey wondered belatedly if the can had held ordinary hairspray. She threw open the window and looked around desperately for something to help control the coughs, but came up as empty as Terry's flask. Then, she remembered some of her basic first-aid training, and had an idea. If she could just get the chemicals out of the man...

She knelt so she was level with Gambit's face. "Try to push all the bad air out of your lungs," she told him. "Exhale, and then inhale when I tell you." Gambit frowned, but managed to force his lungs to empty. Purdey took a deep breath, and put her mouth to his, hoping to fill his lungs through the same principles as CPR. He didn't respond on the first breath but she kept at it, until the coughing slowed down, and she felt Gambit begin to return the gesture in kind.

She was fairly certain his hand didn't need to curl around her waist. She told herself that he was fine, that she could stop now, but she still hadn't convinced herself when she vaguely imagined that she heard the door of the room opening.

"I should have known," came Terry's voice. "I can't leave you alone for 20 minutes."

Purdey broke away so quickly that Gambit lost his balance and flopped backwards onto the bed with a pleasantly stunned expression. "Mouth-to-mouth," he wheezed. "Lungs got clouded."

"That's a new one," Terry said in a way that conveyed his lack of belief. He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Purdey. "And I suppose he was checking that your tonsils were healthy."

Purdey was too busy trying to get her pulse to slow down to think of a reasonable retort. "He was coughing. My hairspray," she said lamely.

"Well, if you keep up like that, Mike's going to start snorting the stuff." Terry settled down on the edge of the bed. "Unfortunately, we've got bigger problems."

"What kind of problems?" Purdey wanted to know, now that she had recovered her senses enough to start forming sentences.

"Took me longer to dump my unfriendly than I hoped it would, and when I got to the chemist's I spotted a man lurking a little too carefully near the prescriptions window. Had to settle for buying sundries instead of the prescriptions, or I'd have led him straight back here. As it is, he's still watching the shop. And if you two stop to get the prescriptions he'll follow you straight to the train." Terry looked grim.

"No problem." Gambit still looked a little giddy. Whether it was from the kiss or the hairspray was debatable. "Don't need medicine. I feel perfectly fine..." He waved away the difficulty airily with one hand, and then grimaced when the movement set off still another round of coughing.

"Bloody hell, Mike," Terry helped Purdey prop him up against the pillows. "You keep overexerting yourself and you'll end up leaving Berlin in a box."

"'M okay," Gambit managed a small grin. "'Sides, it was worth it." He waggled his eyebrows at Purdey and she smiled in spite of herself.

Terry shook his head, but he was smiling too. "Dancing on cloud nine by the look of things. You don't happen to have a large mallet, do you?" he asked Purdey. "I'd like to bring him back to earth."

"Are you sure there's not one in my suitcase?" she answered pertly. "If we can't get the prescriptions, what can we do next?"

"Call Steed, I suppose. You go down and wait for the wheelchair to get delivered while -- wait..."

Terry's ears were quicker than hers, Purdey realized, as a knocking came at the hotel door. She heard the scrape of a key in the lock and before she could move or argue the blond agent had caught her and pulled her with him into the closet, one hand coming up to cover her mouth while the other dove into his coat and emerged with a service revolver.

"Frau Horrocks? Mike?" Margot's melodious voice made Purdey stiffen, even as she felt Terry relaxing. "Oh, Mike, you are awake -- and dressed!" She fell into German and Gambit answered her in the same language.

"Hello, Margot. Yes. Mabel... Auntie Mabel... has stepped out to see about plane tickets. I want to go home."

"Already? But you have hardly been here long enough..." Terry eased the closet door open a crack and Purdey could see Margot cross to the bed and sit down on it. The German girl laid a hand alongside Gambit's face caressingly. "And I had hopes of taking care of you myself, you know."

He took her hand from his face and held it in both of his. "You always take good care of me, Margot. But I'm afraid I'm in no condition to enjoy it right now." He closed his eyes for a moment, holding in another cough, it looked like.

Margot reached up with her free hand to check his forehead and cheek. "You are not so feverish, not as you were in the night."

"No, but I haven't got the energy to keep up with you." He smiled at her. "Still, there's something you could do for me, if you would."

"What is it?" Purdey dug her nails into her palms. Even Margot's voice sounded like a caress. And Gambit was eating it up, or acting like he was.

"My doctor, the one in England, he called some prescriptions into a chemist named Durkleheim. You know the shop?"

"It is just a few streets away."

"They're under the name Michael Smith, but they're for me. Could you fetch them, please?" He fought down a cough, and looked up at her wistfully. "And maybe some cough syrup?"

"Clever lad," Terry whispered approvingly near Purdey's ear, and she became aware of his arms around her waist, and his thumb travelling thoughtfully over the hand she'd instinctively wrapped around to join his. It was a very nice sensation indeed, like the warmth of his breath on her neck, and she wondered just how long her resolution to keep her professional distance from her colleagues was going to last in the face of the kind of underhanded tactics that field agents seemed to be good at employing.

She'd missed Margot's reply, but she didn't miss the kiss -- more than a friendly peck, but less passionate than it might have been. Margot fetched Gambit the glass of water from the nightstand and saw him comfortable before she rose to go. "Oh, and before I forget, there is a wheelchair which must be for you on its way to be delivered. The company called to doublecheck the address. Tell Frau Horrocks that it must be signed for, please."

"I'll send her down as soon as I see her," Gambit promised. He closed his eyes and leaned a little into the last stroke of her hand against his face, but then at last she was gone.

Purdey would have said something, but Terry whispered, "Wait," and they stayed in the closet a few moments longer, listening for the ding of the elevator. At last, reluctantly, he let her go. "Check to make sure the coast is clear," he told her, and Purdey hastened to do so, but the corridor was safely empty. She returned to Terry, and shook her head to indicate that it was safe. "Good," he said. "Now wait a minute, and then go down for the wheelchair. Margot'll be leaving pretty quick, and if she doesn't see you, she won't have reason to suspect we've been spying on her."

"Why should she think at all?" Purdey wanted to know. "She's too preoccupied with other things. " She shot a look at Gambit, who wasn't looking too repentant. "Not that she hasn't been encouraged."

"It's not her brains that caught my eye," that worthy rasped cheerfully. "Don't worry about Margot. She can pull off a trip to the chemist's standing on her head."

"You should know," Terry said with a grin, resting a friendly hand on Purdey's shoulder. "He's quite selfish, really. Doesn't leave any for the rest of us," he confided.

"You just need to learn to dance something a little newer than the Twist," Gambit told Terry. "Two left feet," he added to Purdey. "Small wonder he can't get the girls. I keep telling him that he needs to practice his technique. You don't meet dates at chess tournaments."

"You don't," Terry said equably. "I do."

"Maybe so," Gambit didn't really have a lot of energy for bantering, it was clear, although he seemed determined to keep his end up. "It's easier for a girl to see if a fellow's got the right moves on a dance floor, though."

"If a fellow's not careful, he might overindulge and get himself in trouble," Purdey said pointedly, adjusting the pillows behind his head so he could lie back more comfortably.

"Part of the job," he said by way of explanation. "Don't want to shirk duty, do I? Who knows when he might need to 'investigate' a modern Mata Hari?"

"In that case, half of Britain must be working for the enemy," Purdey muttered, cryptically, her thoughts returning to the little black book. "I'm going for the chair. Terry, would you mind cleaning up the room?"

"Your wish is my command," Terry said, sweeping her a bow.

"And as for you," she said to Gambit. "Unless it's life and death, I don't want you to twitch as much as a hair. I'm not doing any more mouth-to-mouth."

Gambit pretended to look hurt, but didn't succeed. He threw her an awkward salute from his position on the bed. "Aye, aye, ma'am." Again with the Cockney! From behind his back, Terry rolled his eyes expressively. Purdey just smiled before leaving the room. As she closed the door, she could just make out Terry's voice.

"You're shameless, aren't you Mike?"

---

Purdey signed for the chair in the lobby. Margot had thankfully taken her leave, and by the time Purdey had manhandled the wheelchair into the lift, the German bombshell had yet to return. Purdey wished that the girl wasn't needed for the pills. She would have been quite happy to leave without notice, otherwise. Margot would live. Unfortunately.

Terry had finished packing when she got back. He'd consolidated everything they'd need into her suitcase, Gambit's shoulder bag and her purse, to make maneuvering easier. Gambit was in much the same position he had been in when she left and dozing. Purdey sighed with relief. Terry must have convinced him to take it easy, somehow. She hoped the effect would last. Side benefits aside, the fright she'd got from his reaction to the hairspray hadn't quite worn off. There wasn't much chance of making it home if they couldn't avoid battering Gambit's poor, abused body any further.

She pushed in the chair, and closed the door behind her. "Christmas come early," she told Gambit, who had opened one eye and was observing her acquisition with distaste.

"I would've preferred the coal," he grumbled.

"I'll remember that, come the season of giving," Terry told him with a grin. "Everything's ready," he went on. "Just need Margot with the pills, and then I'll tail you to the station."

"We could wait in the lobby," Gambit suggested. "Catch Margot as she comes in. Saves time."

"That's probably best," Terry agreed. "But you'll have to wait without me. Can't have anyone seeing us together."

"Then this is good-bye," Purdey surmised, crossing the room to where he stood.

"'Fraid so. It's been a pleasure, Purdey. Hope to see you when I get back."

"You will," Purdey promised. "Thank you, Terry. For everything." And she leaned in to give him a brief kiss, just to show she really meant it. The fact that Gambit was watching made his little dalliance with Margot that much more bearable. She could swear she could hear his jaw drop from the bed.

Terry blinked in surprise, and then grinned broadly and wrapped one arm around her waist. He promptly proved that he did know how to dance by swirling her through a few steps and dipping her backwards in a strong embrace like the hero in an old musical. "You know," he said in a stage whisper as they held the pose for Gambit's benefit. "We could make a run for it. Just you and me. Off to some warmer climes."

Purdey widened her eyes to look as innocent as possible, going along, although his conspiratorial wink made her want to giggle. "What about Gambit?"

Terry shrugged. "He's dead weight. Between the two of us, it'd be fairly easy to get rid of him with a pillow."

Purdey shot a look at Gambit, who was looking a bit pinched, his jaw set tightly. "But we'd be suspected," she went on, playing it up for all she was worth.

"Mike's in rough shape. Who's to say it wasn't peaceful, in his sleep?"

Gambit was eyeing the wheelchair again. Why the hell had Purdey parked it so far from the bed? He hated being so helpless. With the chair he could at least run over Terry's foot or something. He gave up. "Very funny," he snapped. "Purdey, a little help?"

Purdey looked back to Terry and pretended resignation. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass. Maybe another time?"

"I'm counting on it." He put her back on her feet with alacrity and went to haul Gambit out of bed. "One last chance to wash up, old bean," he said, aiming the injured man at the bathroom.

Purdey took the chance to root through the pile of rejects that Terry had dumped into Gambit's suitcase, just to make sure none of her own scant belongings would be left behind. Extra socks, extra knickers, most of the miscellaneous items from her kit and his, including the small makeup kit that had come in the purse -- on the whole he'd done a good job of sorting out the chaff. The kit held pots and tubes of makeup in such hideous hues that she was certain it had to have been picked by someone who didn't care, but she found a lipstick that wasn't completely horrible and went to the mirror to make sure her face was in order.

"Here," Terry said, as he came back into the main room. "I forgot to give you these back." He tossed her her own eyeliner and lipstick and she sighed with relief.

"Much better," she said, making quick work of using both. "How about Gambit?"

"Brushing his teeth in case he gets lucky again," Terry said with a grin. "I must say you're a good influence on that lad."

"Lad?" Purdey said. "You're not that much older than he is, are you?"

"All of ten minutes, as near as we ever calculated," Terry smirked. "I told you I have seniority. But that means I've got to look out for the little bu..." He swallowed the word, changed gears abruptly. "Anyway, I wanted a chance to talk to you in private. Kendrick's worried about that lung collapsing again, so he asked me to pick up a few things." He fetched over the bag of 'sundries'. "I shoplifted the hypodermic, mind you. Didn't want to ask for it. If Mike goes blue on you, or he just can't get his breath you go in through the hole where the chest tube was, try to pull out any air or pus you find. The hydrogen peroxide's to try to keep things clean, and the lancet's in case you need to make a new hole. If you do get air, tape one of the condoms over the top of it with a slit in the middle to act like an air valve. Okay?"

Purdey surveyed the contents of the bag with dismay. Her first aid training hadn't got nearly far enough to give her any confidence in her comprehension of the instructions, but she could see that Terry meant her to follow them. "You're not joking, are you?"

Terry shook his head. "Chances are you won't have to do anything. I picked up this lot strictly in case of emergencies."

"What lot?" Gambit asked from the bathroom door.

"Just a few things I might need if you get fresh," Purdey told him airily, as she tucked the bag into her purse.

"Chocolates, brandy," Terry added, "a cattle prod to keep you in line..."

"Brandy sounds good," Gambit said, but he didn't press the point. He was working too hard at staying upright. Terry and Purdey exchanged a look of mutual exasperation before the older agent went to help Gambit into the wheelchair, and Purdey turned to collect the luggage. Once Gambit was settled, she put the suitcase into his lap, her purse on one shoulder and Gambit's carry-on on the other. That done, she started pushing the chair toward the door, and then paused to take one last look around the room. "I think this is it."

"It is. You two keep an eye on each other," Terry said, having collected the last traces of their stay into Gambit's discarded suitcase. "I mean to have a few drinks with you when I get home."

Gambit reached over to shake the man's hand. "You're the one who needs to be careful," he ordered. "They've already done a job on me. I'd rather they didn't repeat the performance."

Terry nodded. "I'll be okay. Now get going." There was a last look, one that communicated much more than either man would say. Then Purdey pushed Gambit out the door.

---

Margot had just entered the lobby when Purdey and Gambit left the lift. She hurried over to them.

"I have the pills, mein Liebling," she told Gambit breathlessly, nodding at Purdey. "I am sorry it took so long."

Gambit waved it off. "Thanks Margot," he said as he took the paper bag.

"You are leaving?" Margot said quietly.

"Just about. Aunt Mabel needs to check out." He looked meaningfully at Purdey, who reluctantly left Gambit to go to the reception desk, where a young woman took care of the arrangements. She watched Gambit talk to Margot, the former calm and collected, the latter looking a little upset, although putting on a brave front. There was one last kiss, one which Margot accepted with relish. By the time Purdey returned, everything had been said. Almost everything.

Margot delved into her purse and produced a bottle. "I forgot to purchase the cough syrup, but I have here most of a bottle of Schnaps," she explained. "It is not good Schnaps, but if the Luftwaffe could use it to fuel bombers in the war, it will do for medicine."

She handed it to Gambit, who took a swig and pulled a face. "Lovely," he wheezed. "I knew there was a reason I'd rather buy the beer."

"I never said the bombers came back," Margot's words were cheerful, but her smile was brittle and her eyes suspiciously bright. "But you will, yes? And next time you are in Berlin, I will make it up to you."

"I'm looking forward to it," Gambit reassured her.

"I'll bet," Purdey muttered. "Thank you for all your help, Margot," she said, offering the other woman her hand. "Now we really must be going or we'll miss our flight."

"Yes," Margot accepted the handshake with an expression that Purdey felt was a bit odd, although she couldn't pin down quite why. "Good-bye to you both." With that, Margot moved to the reception desk. Purdey pushed Gambit's chair out of the hotel and let the porter flag down a cab. After they were settled, she couldn't help but feel uneasy about the girl. She shook it off. Gambit wasn't worried, and Terry was going to make sure they weren't followed.

---

At the station the cab driver helped her get Gambit into the wheelchair, and Purdey felt a moment of panic when she remembered she'd have to pay him. But fortunately, someone -- Terry no doubt -- had thought to stuff a bundle of marks into her purse. With a fat tip as incentive there was no trouble in getting a porter to do the work of wheeling Gambit through the station either. Their train wasn't on the departure board yet, so she had the porter park the wheelchair near a high-backed bench and paid him.

The smell of hot sausages reminded her how long it had been since the bacon and eggs, and she looked over to the coffeestand longingly. "Think you'll be all right for a minute?" she asked Gambit.

He opened his eyes and scratched his cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. What's up?"

"Since I can afford it, I thought I'd get us some sausage rolls for the trip."

His face lit up. "Sausages? Sounds good. And coffee too, please, if they have any."

She patted his shoulder and crossed the half dozen yards to stand in line, trying not to be obtrusive about the way she was looking around the station. The four o'clock train was sold out, according to a sign over the ticket counters, and the station was crowded with travellers, none of whom were paying any attention to her or Gambit. She saw Terry come in the far doors, his motorcycle helmet under his arm, and firmly resisted the temptation to wave at him. Gambit was watching the passing crowds too, and she envied the open way that he people-watched. No one could believe that he was suspicious of anyone with that vacant expression on his face, but his eyes were taking in everything.

She made her purchases quickly; Wurstsemmeln, the mildest-looking sausage slices she could find on a plain kaiser roll, for the man with the recalcitrant stomach -- and something called Currywurst, sausage slices drowned in tomato sauce and generously dusted with curry powder, for herself -- as well as drinks for each of them. She brought the lot back to Gambit balanced on a flimsy cardboard tray. Overhead, the departure board began to clatter as it was updated, and the sound almost drowned out his whisper of "Seven o'clock. Do you see her?" as she bent down to give him his share.

"Seven o'clock?" Purdey repeated, puzzled.

"Straight ahead is twelve, right is three, back is six, left is nine. Look to your present seven. The redhead." Gambit's expression betrayed nothing of what he was saying, and she doubted anyone more than a foot away could hear the low-voice he used.

Purdey turned and settled herself on the bench, taking a sip of the tea she'd chosen for herself instead of coffee. With a little searching she could make out the person he meant. A buxom redhead, who raised her head just at the wrong moment and met Purdey's eyes. "The nurse from the hospital," Purdey growled. "And she knows she's been spotted now. What do we do?"

"Signal Terry somehow. Maybe you can go visit the ladies'."

"I'm not going out of arm's reach, thanks." She put her tea back on the tray and set the whole thing on Gambit's lap. "Think he'll get the idea if we just keep staring at her?"

Gambit made a noise that might have meant he was holding back a cough or a laugh. Either way, he didn't seem to be willing to risk it. "If she doesn't get nervous just from being glared at," he said.

"If she gets nervous, she'll leave." Purdey said, giving the departure board a glance and seeing their train track listed. They had fifteen minutes left to board. She got off the bench and went to stand behind Gambit's chair, putting a possessive arm around his shoulders and fixing the redhead with a look of pure poison. Gambit looked at her too, and between them the woman quickly turned away and pretended indifference. Terry appeared from behind a pile of suitcases, asking a question with an incline of his head, and Gambit nodded, ever so slightly. In a moment the blond man had crossed over to "accidentally" stumble into the nurse, knocking her purse to the floor and spilling its contents. Instantly half a dozen of the young prostitutes and pickpockets who haunted the station darted in to grab anything of value. The nurse screeched and tried to protect her belongings as the crowd surged over to see what was happening.

"Now!" Gambit told Purdey, getting up from the wheelchair and grabbing the suitcase handle with his free hand. He pushed the food tray into her hands and hustled her towards the platform.

"But... the chair..." she protested.

"We'll get another one in Munich," he said. "I'm good for a hundred yards. I damn well better be, anyway."

Gambit was breathing hard by the time he'd climbed onto the train and he stopped as soon as they were in the corridor to put down the suitcase and lean against the nearest wall.

"Here," Purdey told him, impatiently. "You take the food. I'll carry the suitcase."

"Which berth are we in?" he gasped, fighting back the desire to cough. He found Margot's bottle again and took a quick drink to quiet his throat.

She looked at the ticket in her hand. "Seven A... No, wait, that's the ticket for this morning." She dug into her purse again. "Ah. Eight B."

He looked up and down the corridor. "I'm not sure if that's forrard or aft," he admitted.

"Hang on," Purdey said. "There's a conductor. I'll ask."

The conductor, observing Gambit's pallor, took charge of the suitcase and led them through the next two cars. The attendant there saw them settled in his own tiny cubbyhole while he went ahead to make up the berths in their cabin for them. By the time the train started to move, Gambit was taking more pulls at the bottle of Schnaps than he was taking bites of his sandwich and Purdey had worked her way through her own food and was thinking of starting in on what remained of his after the little he'd managed to get down. She took the Schnaps from him instead and put the coffee in his hand. "You still need to take your medications," she reminded him. "And I don't think this stuff will go well with codeine."

"It doesn't go well with anything," Gambit admitted with a frown. "Nasty stuff. But it's better than coughing."

"Codeine will help with that, if I remember rightly," Purdey said.

He nodded and rubbed at his face again. "I think you're right." He tugged the paper bag with the prescriptions out of his pocket and shook a pill out of each bottle. "Here's hoping." He followed them with a swig of coffee and sighed.

She reached over to touch his face. "You don't feel feverish," she said. "That's something anyway."

"Just a little tired. And I want a proper shower," he added, scratching his scalp. "I'm glad Steed's going to meet us at the other end. You know that nurse is going to call ahead."

"So will Terry, won't he?" Purdey pointed out. She leaned out into the corridor and checked both ways. "And I haven't seen anyone lurking here on the train. Not yet anyway."

"Good."

The attendant came out of their cabin and back to where they were waiting, beaming at Purdey the whole way. "Now, meine Dama, you shall be comfortable for the trip."

"Thank you." Purdey had the tip ready, and she pressed it into his hand, along with the ticket, as soon as he'd lent his support to Gambit's unsteady progress down the rocking train. But at last Gambit was safely settled against a pile of pillows on the lower bunk, and their bags were tucked into the racks.

Purdey decided that she'd best grab a moment for herself in the tiny restroom at the end of the corridor while she had the chance. Her nerves were jangling again, so she took the Schnaps along, meaning to get in a belt or two before she saw to her teeth. But even one drink was too much. It really was a dreadful concoction -- almost nothing like the stuff she had snuck once or twice from her father's liquor cabinet. How Gambit had got through nearly a third of the pint so quickly she didn't know, unless he'd killed his tastebuds after the first few sips. She was "spilling" the remainder of the bottle down the sink with a certain satisfaction that had nothing to do with removing the temptation to get nicely sozzled from Gambit when she realized that the train was stopping.

After the first moment of panic, Purdey remembered that Gambit had mentioned something about the border. The rail line ran through East Germany, and the East Germans kept a close eye on the trains to prevent defections. Volkspolizei -- railroad police -- rode along on each train in the Communist sector, according to the tourist guide. But that didn't mean that there was no danger. That nurse. She could have called already, could have the Volkspolizei waiting to arrest us, or even have someone pretending to be a western border official do the same thing. Damn. I shouldn't have left Gambit on his own. Let's hope they start at the other end of the train. Purdey collected her things quickly and opened the door into the corridor, but she was too late. Two men in blue uniforms were already at the door of their cabin, and knocking.

"Open up," one of them said harshly, and Purdey froze, visions of Gambit being hauled off to some dingy prison dancing in front of her eyes. She wanted to run... they'd chase her if she did, and that would give Gambit time. But time to do what? She doubted that he had the strength left to get off the train by himself, much less to find his way back to Terry.

"What is causing the delay?" The Volkspolizei officer said impatiently.

Nothing for it. Purdey would have to brazen it out.

"Oh, dear," she said, "Just a moment! I'm coming, I'm coming." She fluttered down the corridor to the guards, glad that she must look as flustered as she felt. "I'm sorry. I was just in the... I had to..." She waved a hand back at the WC.

The younger guard blushed, but the older man, merely eyed her with a neutrally official expression. "The conductor said there are two people assigned this cabin," he said sternly.

"Pardon?" Purdey pretended to have to work out the sentence so she could get closer to the door and when she answered she spoke as loudly as she dared, hoping Gambit could hear her. "Oh. Yes, Zwei. That's 'two', isn't it? Yes, there are two of us, but my companion has been injured, and has just taken his medicines. He can't get out of bed without my help." She fumbled through her purse for the key. "Just a moment..."

"Mabel, is that you?" Gambit's call took one of the knots of tension out of her spine. "What's going on?"

Purdey unlocked the door and opened it just enough to look inside. Gambit had clearly tried to get up, and then sprawled back onto the lower berth in a hurry, but he'd tugged a blanket up so that it covered most of his body from about mid-chest on down, and he was doing a good imitation of an invalid. "We're at the border, Michael. Your German is better than mine; do you think you're awake enough to talk to these men?" The guards were eyeing her unhappily, and she could only hope that she could slam the door shut and locked fast enough if she had to.

But Gambit crooked up a corner of his mouth. "Sure, love." He shifted uncomfortably and added. "Come on over here and give me a hand will you? The pillows are in the wrong place and my back is killing me."

Purdey crossed her fingers mentally. The guards looked genuine enough, and neither had made any move to grab her or force their way in, although she could tell they were wondering what she was hiding behind the half-open door. Heart pounding even as she smiled, she opened it the rest of the way and went to bend over Gambit and rearrange the pillows. The men stepped into the opening, and eyed Gambit, who grimaced even as he nodded to them. "Sorry. I couldn't get to the door."

Once Purdey's body was between him and the guards, Gambit slid the blanket down just a little, revealing a revolver. Obviously Terry had helped with more than clothes. He made sure she saw it, then tucked it away again, tipping his head to one side in what Purdey hoped was a message that meant she should stay out of his line of fire.

"Passports, please," the older guard said impatiently, though he and his partner had relaxed somewhat. Purdey hoped that was because Gambit was playing up the pitifulness, and not because they had finally got in position to do something drastic. Gambit did look pitiful though, the faint sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead only enhancing the image of a man too debilitated to cause any kind of trouble.

"They just need to see our passports, love," Gambit explained. "Mine's still in your purse, isn't it?"

"No it isn't," Purdey said. She distinctly remembered handing it to him the night before. And she wasn't sure she could keep the envelope with all it's markings from falling out of its magazine if she started rummaging around.

"Just look," Gambit said patiently, ignoring the message she was trying to send him with her eyes. "It should be next to yours."

"If you say so." Purdey sat on the bed near his feet, to give him a clear shot while she dug out through her bag. Both passports were there -- and now that she looked she realized that all of the tickets she'd bought for later departures were gone, so Terry must have collected them. Or Gambit. It might have been polite to ask me first, she thought, a little exasperated by how freely the two men had trotted in out of her belongings, even if they weren't exactly her belongings. Not that she hadn't done the same to Gambit's bags, of course, but that was different.

She handed the passports over, and the two guards bent over them, comparing them to a clipboard roster, but after a few tense moments the older man nodded, and the younger man produced a stamp and used it. He stepped forward to bow a little and offer the approved passports back to Purdey.

"You are okay to go," he said in uncertain English, as the older officer went off to knock the next door down. "If a doctor needed is, us you must find for ..." he faltered, slipped into German. "Die Erlaubnis?" he finished, looking to Gambit.

"Permission," Gambit translated.

"Permission, ja."

"I should be all right once I've got to sleep. The doctor wouldn't have let me travel otherwise," Gambit told him. "But thank you, anyway."

The officer nodded, but he still hesitated, his eyes lingering on Purdey. "The dining car opens at seven," he offered, and Purdey leaned back and stretched out a little to give him a better look at the legs which so obviously fascinated him.

"I'm sure Michael will be sleeping by then," she said, meeting the boy's eyes with a smile calculated to suggest interest, but not promise anything.

"Not if I can't get comfortable," Gambit grumbled pointedly.

Purdey shrugged and gave the guard her most helpless smile as she got up to see him to the door. She lingered in the doorway, the smile still pasted on to meet each glance that came her way from the youngster. It wasn't until the two had finished their check of the closest first class rooms and were halfway down the way to the next car (and the older guard had given the younger one a pointed nudge after a particularly thoughtful exchange of glances), that she closed the door and gratefully turned the lock and rested her head against the door.

Her blood was fizzing with adrenalin, her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, her stomach appeared to have taken up the cha-cha, and her nerves had given up jangling in favor of a first-class clamor and it felt wonderful. Like a shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. Like stepping onto the stage. Like jumping out of an airplane must be: horribly nervewracking, but exhilarating too. Intoxicating. No wonder you loved this job, dad.

Gambit's voice snapped her back to reality. "You okay?"

Purdey giggled. "I'm fine," she managed, feeling more laughter unaccountably swelling in her chest. She pushed away from the door, and did a little pirouette of triumph. "I'm on the run, in a train that's on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain, locked in with a man who's older than me and is still supposed to be my nephew, someone's probably trying to kill both of us, and I'm fine!" The laughter was really coming now.

Gambit grinned. "Never claimed this job was for the sane," he allowed, his eyes dancing.

"We could have been found, and I'm enjoying it." Purdey couldn't believe they'd pulled it off, not really. "They could still come back," she acknowledged, though it didn't make her stop chortling.

"They could," Gambit chuckled, "So why are you laughing?"

"I don't know." Tears were streaming down her cheek as she staggered over and collapsed across the bed from him. "Why are you?" she asked, as his laughter melded with hers.

"Because you are."

Purdey felt her sides begin to ache. "I would've thought--I mean, did you see the younger border guard?" Purdey gasped.

"I'm surprised he could remember how to walk," Gambit chuckled. "The way you were leading him on, he won't recover until they're halfway through the fourth car. Hope the neighbors are liberal-minded. It'll go better for him."

"I wasn't leading him on," Purdey tried to protest, but it was hard to sound angry around the laughs.

"Of course not," Gambit replied, mock serious. "That big helpless smile just switched on by itself, did it? 'Oh, I'd love to have dinner with you, if only I didn't have the deadweight invalid to look after. Look at my legs instead'."

"Hey!" Purdey threw her hat at him, meaning for it to sail along like a Frisbee and bonk Gambit on the nose, but her hand was shaking so badly from the adrenaline and the laughs that it wobbled pathetically and ended up in Gambit's ready hand. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"True. Let's practice. I'll be the border guard, you be the stowaway," he suggested with a glint in his eye.

"That's typecasting," Purdey pointed out through a giggle.

"I'll be the stowaway, then. Do you think I have the legs for it?" He lifted one an inch or two off the bed, studying it with an appraising expression.

"They're very good," Purdey assured. "We'll get you a kilt when we get home."

"Aye, lassie," Gambit said in a terrible imitation of a Scots' accent. "Not going to give Sean Connery fans anything to worry about then?"

Purdey just shook her head, nearly catatonic with laughter.

"Ah well, stick with the Irish, then." He studied her hat, still clutched in his hand. "That was a lousy throw, by the way. Ever been to Australia, tossed a boomerang?"

"No."

"Hmm." Gambit tossed the hat with a flick of his wrist. It sailed through the air, bounced off the ceiling, and landed on the top bunk. Purdey and Gambit watched it with earnest interest.

"Clearly you didn't practice the technique," Purdey commented.

"I did," Gambit defended. "Your hat just has a lousy sense of direction."

It was enough to get them laughing again.

"Ow, bloody hell," Gambit chortled, "I can't stop. You trying to kill me?"

"Stop, stop," Purdey giggled. "You'll pop your stitches. Think of something serious." She tried to compose herself. "War, poverty, famine..." she tried.

"Right, right," Gambit agreed, putting great effort into a serious expression. They both lay there for a moment, faces straining with intense concentration.

After a moment, Gambit spoke up. "All I'm getting is Monty Python," he admitted. "How about you?"

"Yes," Purdey squeaked, and let loose another gale of laughter.

"Steed'll have us committed," Gambit choked, brushing away tears of mirth. "I usually need half a bottle of something before I get quite this cheerful. Which reminds me, where's the Schnaps?"

"Poured it down the sink, and you'd already had plenty," Purdey admitted. "Besides, I thought you didn't like it?"

"Seems to have settled the cough for a while," Gambit sighed. "Or maybe it was all those pills. Kendrick really went overboard."

A bump and the screech of metal against metal announced the resumption of their journey. Purdey got up on her knees and leaned over him to tug down the window, so she could poke her head out and see what there was to see. The checkpoint consisted of a building or two, a wider trackbed with a siding or two, and a few men in overalls or uniforms who pointedly ignored her existence. Beyond it the city gave way to more trees, and a road which ran the same direction as the tracks. She peered first back and then forward as the train took a curve before she sighed and pulled her head back inside.

"Well? Anyone riding alongside, trying desperately to board us?" Gambit asked, reaching up to gently brush her windswept hair back from her face. Purdey snorted and went on struggling to put the window back up again.

"Not that I could see, but that doesn't mean we weren't followed." She chewed a lip. "In this job, I can't help but distrust trains. Something always happens in the movies, and it's never good for the heroes."

"Thinking of 'Murder on the Orient Express' are you?"

Purdey shook her head. "'Live and Let Die.' It was on last week. I thought it'd get me in the right mood, so to speak. Now I half-expect to hear maniacal laughter down the corridor."

Gambit smiled slightly. "And me without a jetpack, or a trick briefcase. Sorry to disappoint. Only Steed gets the gadgets, and they're generally limited to anything that can pass as a bowler or brolly." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "I do have an automated bed back home, though. Remind me to show you how it works."

"That's one similarity, anyway," Purdey muttered, settling back down beside him.

"You know," Gambit went on, still toying idly with one of her curls, "with a name like Purdey, you could make quite a good Bond girl. I'm sure Fleming himself would've loved to have a heroine named after a gun."

"Better than a card game," Purdey acknowledged, wondering how it was he didn't have to have his hand on the back of her neck to persuade her to lean towards him. She watched his face getting closer to hers as if she were in a trance.

"And, if I recall correctly, those two had a few ways of making the trip go a little faster." He was very close now. Purdey could feel herself being drawn in. And her adrenaline high hadn't subsided. If anything she was giddier now. She remembered Gambit and Terry's motto, wondered if there wasn't something to it after all. Surely she was entitled to a little fun herself? Besides, I don't have to buy his boat, just rock it a bit. She couldn't help but smile at that thought.

The puzzled line made an appearance between Gambit's eyebrows, but he smiled back. "I hope you're thinking what I'm thinking," he said.

"More than you'll ever know," Purdey answered cryptically. "Hold still, I'm going to lose my balance at this rate." She didn't want to land on top of him. Popping his stitches wouldn't be any fun for either of them. She tugged one of the pillows out of the pile and set it beside him.

"What...?"

"I'm just going to make you a little more comfortable," Purdey said softly, never taking her eyes off his face, even as she loosened his tie. His eyes shifted color, from blue to green with hints of gold visible at the rim of the pupils that were still small in the bright light from the window. But he let her take charge, easing down to a more prone position as she stretched herself out alongside.

With her head propped up by one arm, she could see the smile curling up the corners of his lips as he waited for her to make her next move. She reached over him to flip the curtains at this end of the window closed, deliberately giving him a close-up view of the more translucent parts of her dress.

He watched her with hooded, appreciative eyes. "Purdey..." he said, when she settled back, her face only inches from his, and there was a lovely edge in his voice, an added huskiness she'd never heard when he addressed Margot, as he reached up to caress her cheek.

"Mike." She said. And then she kissed him, slowly, properly. Not for cover, or in the heat of the moment, when there was no time to enjoy it. She felt his fingers playing in her hair again, more certainly this time. She had to be careful with the tentative hand she sent exploring, but he didn't, and she smiled inside as she felt his gentle touch begin to thread its way down from her face and neck. But then his hand fell away, and she realized that she was doing most of the work in the kiss. She pulled back, wondering if he needed a chance to breathe, but he was breathing all right. Evenly, steadily, the blue eyes closed and the lingering ghost of his smile already fading into the slackness of sleep.

Purdey scowled. "Mike?" This time the name didn't get the gentle treatment it had enjoyed earlier. If there was anything Purdey had learned in the last two days it was what Mike Gambit looked like unconscious. "Mike!" She resisted the urge to shake him. "That wasn't a goodnight kiss," she told him, sourly.

Reluctantly, she disentangled herself and got out of the bunk, and as she did her foot kicked the paper bag of prescriptions that Margot had fetched from the chemist's. Purdey picked it up, and then, on a hunch, started pulling out bottles and reading labels.

"May cause drowsiness." She looked at her soundly sleeping colleague. "They don't joke around." She sighed. "Pity. Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself," she told the closed eyes. But it wasn't his fault he'd been thwarted by the drugs.

Oh, well. She leaned down to kiss the slightly parted lips one more time. "Might've been fun." But then a yawn caught her by surprise and another yawn on its heels. Must be a reaction to the scare we got at the border. Or just too little sleep last night. She considered trying to get his boots and jacket off, but without Terry or one of the Liebermanns to help her wrestle she didn't feel up to doing the job without waking him. If Gambit was going to fall asleep in the middle of a seduction he probably really needed the sleep. And there was the top bunk, already made up for her. She collected one of the pillows and the magazine from her purse that (she checked) no longer had the envelope inside. Terry and Gambit had probably hidden it someplace new, and she couldn't blame them. At least that meant she had something she could read until suppertime. But it wasn't long before the gentle rocking of the train had her in dreamland along with Gambit.

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