Brazil

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises, and this story is for entertainment purposes only.

Timeline: Sixth in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1977, near the start of the second season, probably shortly after the events of Hostage and the year-later bits of Gnaws and The Last of the Cybernauts...? It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, and Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit.

Author's Note: Inspired by one throwaway exchange in Angels of Death, this is the piece I completed most recently. Meant to explain a few things that went on in the show's second season, it also sets up the rest of the arc in terms of the characters. All the other fics have been fairly plot-light, more or less character studies. I have fun doing character sketches. What can I say? But this one's got a bit more going on in the background, and it sets the tone for the next few stories, a bit darker than I've been posting thus far (nothing too terrible though). Also, this one's long. Really long. Really, really long. And I'm trying to edit it with what little spare time I have. So expect to see this one to be updated for months as opposed to weeks. I hope you enjoy it.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

As Purdey approached Gambit's flat, her mind rehearsed what to say. She didn't want to come across as frightened as she felt, but on the other hand, the way she'd worked herself up on the drive over, she wasn't certain if that were possible. She sighed. Just have to see how it goes, she mused as her finger depressed the buzzer next to his door. She listened. Nothing. No sound of Gambit moving to the door, no call to come in, nothing. She pushed again, harder and longer than before. Again, no answer. The Jag and Rover were both outside on the curb when she arrived, so she knew he was home. He could still be abed, she reasoned. Purdey had woken him on more than one occasion. Or he could be unconscious, or at gunpoint, the worried part of her brain interjected, feeding her growing fears. Nothing for it, she would have to let herself in, and hope Mike was all right. She fished out her spare key and went in.

Almost immediately the sound of falling water reached her ears. Shower. Mike was in the bathroom, his couch still a bed with an untidy ball of sheets sitting on it. She made her way across the living area to the bathroom, wedged between the main quarters and the (spare) bedroom. Sure enough, the bathroom door was closed, and a faint wisp of steam was curling out of the crack at the top. She let herself in, a cloud of steam washing over her as she closed the door behind her and stood for a moment, mentally taking in the fact that a thin sheet of plastic was all that stood between her and Gambit au naturel. She grinned and suppressed the urge to peek. Making her way toward the centre of the room, in front of the medicine cabinet, she stood and waited. Gambit, so far unaware of her presence and humming some old sailor's ditty while he splashed about, suddenly realized that he was out of soap, and pushed back the curtain a little with the intention of rectifying the problem. He wasn't prepared for the sight of Purdey's smiling face as she leaned against the counter. It was terribly unfair. He hadn't even had his coffee yet.

"Purdey!" he yelped, yanking the shower curtain to cover him from the waist down while silently saying a prayer of thanks to the salesgirl at Marks & Spencer who was insistent that see-through curtains were not the thing this season. Come to think of it, he hadn't called her in awhile. "What the devil are you doing in here?"

"Exfoliating. Steam does wonders for the skin," Purdey quipped.

"You couldn't do that at home?" Gambit asked, a little tiredly.

"I thought about it, but the view isn't nearly as good," Purdey explained, letting her eyes rove up Gambit's chest, past the St. Christopher around his neck, io the very soaked dark curls flattened against his head.

Gambit raised an interested eyebrow. "Would you like to join me?"

"I've already had my shower this morning," she demurred.

"Ah, well, in that case, could you pass the soap?"

She obliged. Gambit went back behind the curtain.

"What did you want, exactly? Besides the view?"

"I had a call. Someone asking for Bryde."

Gambit's head came around the curtain again, now covered in a lather of shampoo. "Bryde? No one's used that name since--"

"'75. I know." She started to rummage through the medicine cabinet

"What did he want?"

"She. Set up a meeting with McKay. Rather pushy. Barely acknowledged Steed's authority." She removed a bottle of aftershave and sniffed it. It was lightly scented, and reminded her immediately of Gambit. "I'm a bit worried."

"Sounds like a trap," Gambit concurred, listening to Purdey's rummagings. "Don't touch the water. I'm not in the mood for a scalding. Or a freezing."

"That's what I thought. I wanted to see if you'd gotten a similar call. Or if someone had gotten in while you were sleeping. Or if Steed—"

"Steed's fine. I talked to him right before I came in here. No mention of a meeting." He turned the water off. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to come along."

"I thought you'd never ask."

He poked his head around the curtain again. "Towel?"

She handed him a black one, and he was wrapped up and out in a few seconds.

"You're up awfully early," Purdey observed, glancing at her watch as Gambit made certain his towel was in no danger of dropping unexpectedly, and treating Purdey to another art show.

"Didn't sleep well," he explained. "I'll be in the bedroom. If you could not wander in I'd appreciate it."

"Anything to hide?" Purdey's lips were twitching toward a smile.

"Never. But you have to take the whole package if you want the perks."

She finally let go and smiled in earnest. "I'll keep that in mind," she told him. They stood for a moment, smiles mirroring one another, before she spoke again. "Thanks, Mike."

"Always a pleasure."