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. Emma Peel is the property of Canal+Image. 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.

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

Author's Note: Another chapter, and not such a long wait this time round. Brilliant! Anyway, this one will set up the rest of the fic. Things are never simple where Purdey's concerned.

Thanks again to everyone who's stuck with the fic thus far and reviewed. It really gets me motivated to edit and post the next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one. A nice little character interlude.

The sun was low in the sky by the time Gambit and Purdey found their way back to the village. Gambit wasn't worried about the dark so much as what it concealed—predators, both animal and human. He found himself sticking closer to Purdey than he would under normal circumstances. But Purdey was right—these weren't ordinary circumstances, not even in their strange line of work. And he was damned if he was going to let her out of his sight before she was safely tucked away in her basement flat back in London—and then he'd be on the phone to make sure she was all right, as much for his own sanity as her well-being. She'd be driven mad by it pretty quickly herself, but the next week or so would be the resumption of old habits, old jokes, old relationships, at least until his nightmares were banished once again. From the way Purdey kept glancing over her shoulder at him, though, he guessed he wasn't the only one who needed the reassurance that the other was there. He couldn't be certain, but the way she kept finding reasons to touch his arm, however slightly, made him think she was trying to reassure herself that he was real. Oh, I hope so.

Steed was fairly easy to spot upon their arrival. Not many people considered a bowler hat essential gear for a trek into the Amazon. Purdey spotted him immediately, and took off on a slightly unsteady loping sprint to close the remaining distance between herself and the senior agent, betraying her injured leg in the process. She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, and Gambit, despite himself, felt a vague twinge of jealousy. Purdey certainly hadn't greeted him that way, although a small voice pointed out that he hadn't given her a chance before he'd taken her in his arms himself. He comforted himself with the recollection that she seemed to be in the process of returning the gesture until he'd given her rib a squeeze. It was his own fault, really. He set about joining the pair. Purdey was smiling beatifically, chattering away to Steed in enthusiastic greeting. They both turned cheery dispositions on the third member of the team.

"Purdey was just saying that she didn't expect us to find our way around quite so well,
Steed informed his colleague.

"Not to mention gaining the confidence of the tribe," Purdey added, scrunching up her face. "You didn't arrive until this afternoon. They're usually a little leery of anyone who comes asking for me."

"Well, we did have help," Gambit began, exchanging glances with Steed.

Purdey raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I don't know which idea is more unbelievable: you admitting you need help, or finding someone mad enough to provide it."

"Very funny."

"Who is this mysterious third party?" Purdey wanted to know, glancing around the village. "Anyone I know?"

"Well, actually..." Gambit began, withering under Purdey's penetrating stare. "I mean, 'know of' might be a better way of putting it. It's—"

"There you are!" Heads whipped around in unison at the approach of Emma Knight, striding purposefully toward them. Purdey's jaw dropped. Steed beamed. Gambit wasn't certain whether to be amused or afraid. Emma stopped in front of the gobsmacked blonde and smiled her charming lopsided grin. "Steed radioed and told me Mike had caught up with you. I was just up at the camp," she explained to Mike's questioning gaze. "Everything seems all right." She looked Purdey up and down. "So do you, thankfully. We've been worried about you." She took in Purdey's face, contorted with shock, and seemed to remember herself. "I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced." She stuck out a friendly hand. "I'm—"

"Mrs. Peel!" Purdey exclaimed, and Gambit bit back the urge to correct the surname. Somehow, he didn't think Purdey was in the mood.

"It's Knight now, actually," Emma said gently, hand still hovering in the air. "But it hasn't seen anywhere near the publicity." She looked from Gambit to Steed and back to Purdey. "I take it Steed and Mike didn't mention I was along?" she deduced wryly.

"You might say that," Purdey muttered, shooting her colleagues a poisonous look.

"I see." Emma arched an eyebrow at the two men. Gambit swallowed a little under the penetrating gaze of the two women.

"I meant to," he tried to explain, "but with all the excitement of finding Purdey, it sort of....slipped my mind."

"Mmm," was Emma's only comment. "Well, no harm done, I suppose. It's nice to finally meet you." The hand was still extended, Purdey realised belatedly, and she put her pangs of jealousy aside for a moment to take it. Emma's shake was firm, but friendly. Naturally, Purdey grumbled internally, she doesn't have any competition. She took a moment to give the auburn-haired woman an once-over. Despite pushing forty, Emma had kept her figure, just as tall and willowy as her photos suggested, wide-spaced brown eyes still filled with feline mischief. And the high cheekbones showed no signs of fading with age. All in all, aside from the odd extra crease, she could easily have been the daring, catsuited other half of a sixties John Steed, and it was exceptionally clear that the pair had picked up where they'd left off. That was to be expected, but Gambit's obvious infatuation was the real kick in the stomach. Purdey knew he had a fondness for the infamous Mrs. Peel, but it had been akin to worshipping a matinee idol. The real thing, in the flesh, tossing endearingly lopsided smiles about, was much more difficult to compete with, and harder to dismiss as a meaningless crush. To make matters worse, Emma had the height advantage by a good half inch, and for the first time since her foray into the jungle, Purdey missed her high heels.

But what frightened her most was the idea of being replaced, even temporarily. Her confidence was shaken. Despite her usual bravado, the idea of losing her place on their little team was almost too much to bear. And Emma had swept in and filled the void easily, it seemed. Purdey wasn't certain she could compete.

"Yes," she agreed, without much conviction. "I've heard so much about you. Half the stories in training centre around your years at the Ministry." She considered the next phrase carefully, decided to throw it into the ring. "But then I've supplemented with a little research--the Cybernauts made another appearance."

Emma smirked a little at that. "Ah, yes, Mike told me about that. A human/cybernaut hybrid—a nasty thought." She shivered a little involuntarily.

"'Mike' did, did he?" Purdey said pointedly. "What else have these two been telling you?"

"A few things pertinent to the job at hand," Emma replied vaguely. "As I said, everyone's been very worried about you. Lucky this particular tribe happened upon you."

Purdey frowned. "Why this tribe?" she wanted to know, and another thought occurred to her. "Wait, you never did explain how you got them to confide in you in the first place. They've clammed up to just about anyone who's tried to extract information."

"Ah, but Mrs. Peel has a history with this particular group of the locals," Steed informed with a twinkle in his eye. "Don't you, my dear?"

Purdey glanced from one to the other in bemusement. "What do you mean?"

Gambit sauntered up behind her, murmured in her ear. "You might remember a headline back in '68? Test pilot?"

Purdey put a hand to her forehead and groaned. "Peter Peel," she said with dawning realisation. "I wondered where they'd picked up their English. It's his rusted out plane I found." She peeked at Gambit between fingers. "Do they lose people here often?"

"Well, the Bermuda Triangle can only take on so many," Gambit quipped, and Purdey groaned again.

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage," she told Emma. The other woman shrugged carelessly.

"I didn't plan it that way," she admitted. "We found you. That's all that matters."

"Happily," Steed agreed. "Now we can be getting back to England."

"I can go for that," Gambit chimed in, looking relieved. "Put the whole mess behind us."

"Good," Purdey snapped shortly. "You do that. I'm staying here." She crossed her arms like a sulky child, face twisted up in defiance.

Gambit blinked in surprise. "What? We came to get you out of here. You can't stay. We rescued you."

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not need rescuing?" Purdey retorted sharply.

Gambit's jaw dropped open and twitched vaguely, as though he were having difficulty working it. Steed, with a meaningful glance at Emma, signalled for her to give them a moment, and she withdrew without so much as a quip. Steed said a silent prayer of thanks that the years hadn't dulled their near-telepathic link, and stepped in to say what was no doubt on his colleague's mind. "I think Gambit's a bit puzzled. I'm afraid we all are." He smiled at her in that comforting way of his, but Purdey was unmoved. "Surely this isn't about Mrs. Peel. If it is, I think you're overreacting—"

"It's nothing to do with Mrs. Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is!" Purdey exclaimed. "Although I can't quite believe you asked Emma Peel in. Do you have an order of preference, or do you just ring up a colleague at random? Flip a coin—heads for Peel, tails for Gale?"

"Tails for King, actually," Gambit pointed out quietly. "I don't think Mrs. Gale is interested in having much of anything to do with us."

Purdey shot him a look that indicated he wasn't helping his case, and he took the point. "Look," she told them. "Grey sent me here to draw out Pym, and he succeeded. If he wants Pym so badly, I aim to catch him. Otherwise I'll have wasted my time out here."

"Wait," Gambit broke in, unable to keep silent for long. "You're planning on catching Pym yourself?"

Purdey bristled. "Why shouldn't I? He killed my father. I've more of a right to be here than anyone, and if someone's going to bring him in, I'd rather it was me." She looked from one to another. "Don't you see? That's why I've been lying low. If I wanted to, I could have sent a message out and gotten home just as soon as I was well enough. But I've been waiting, and watching, and I think I know how to find him."

"Purdey," Steed said gently. "You've been through too much these past few weeks to be hunting anyone, particularly when your quarry has a personal connection. You can't possibly be an impartial agent with vengeance on your mind. I think it'd be much better if you came home, had some time to recover."

"You can think what you like," Purdey said defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere. So you can either stay and help, or pack up Emma over there and go home to London. From the looks of things, I won't be missed."

She hadn't meant to say that last part, but it had slipped out without her consent, and now she regretted it. She'd never seen both their faces fall in unison quite like that, hadn't known that it was possible for hurt to be reflected identically in two pairs of eyes, each set bearing their own unique take on blue. She knew she wasn't being fair, but it was so hard to think clearly with the heat in her brain and the anger in her heart...

"You've made up your mind, then?" Steed said quietly, after a moment. "We can't persuade you to come back?"

"Not without a dose of chloroform that'll hold until halfway across the Atlantic, but I'd like to think I know you better than that," Purdey confirmed, a little gentler this time.

"You ought to," Gambit told her, with heartbreakingly sad eyes.

"You've got to understand," she pleaded. "All this time, I've never known how exactly my father died, who pulled the trigger. Now I have the chance to put things right, to make certain he never does this to anyone ever again. I'd rather do it with help, but I'll settle with Mike's gun."

Gambit snorted. "A gun's the last thing you should have in your hands."

"Then I'll have to make do," Purdey said brittlely, eyes locked with his. He blinked, just once, and something changed, intangibly, but changed nonetheless. Gambit straightened his shoulders, glanced at Steed, and reached out to grip her arm just above the elbow—not hard, but firmly enough that she'd pay attention.

"We need to talk," he said with conviction. "And we need to get you patched up properly." He guided Purdey over to where Steed and Emma had piled the gear, hefted a first aid kit in his other hand, and steered Purdey over to one of the dwellings that dotted the landscape. Purdey cast one backward glance at Steed before she found herself inside.

There wasn't much inside the dwelling—a rough-hewn table that served its purpose when Gambit set his first aid kit on it. Purdey watched him silently by the dim light filtering through the doorway, trying to read his face for some sign as to what he was thinking, coming up with nothing but grim concentration. In the failing light, she couldn't see the circles under his eyes, or the haunting behind them, and that made him closer to the vital, handsome young agent she knew. If only the expression matched up.

"You're angry with me?" she asked, not certain what she'd do if he said 'yes.' She wasn't certain she'd ever had Gambit actually mad at her before—frustrated, certainly, when she went off on some tangent and led him on a chase, or took pains to emphasize how attractive some other member of the department was. Worried for her well-being. Annoyed when she set him up to look like the fool. But never angry. Pure anger, untempered and unyielding in the face of a smile or a quip. She'd seen what he could do, of course, when pushed, but that was always directed at the enemy, not her. But now she was worried that the line had been crossed. Gambit had already taken a larger degree of control than usual by steering her in here, and considering how stressed he'd been, she knew his chances of snapping at her were heightened. But nothing like that, she told herself, the memory, the feeling of the slap against her cheek bubbling up in her subconscious. She wasn't afraid of Gambit, but of what he'd say and how their relationship would be altered. The bottom line was Purdey didn't really want to hunt Pym on her own, and she'd felt certain, somehow, that Gambit would be the first to join her on her quest. If he gave up on her now...

"No," Gambit replied crisply, detaching a powerful flashlight from his belt and switching it on experimentally. "I'm worried about you."

Purdey let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Worried?"

"Yes. That you're taking all this a little too hard, and all the time you've spent sitting in this jungle plotting hasn't done much for your sense of perspective." He glanced up from the light and met her eyes. "You don't even seem to care that we found you."

"I am glad to see you," Purdey insisted.

"You have a funny way of showing it," Gambit said gruffly.

"Mike!" Purdey shouted in frustration. "You know what my reasons are. I don't want to send you or Steed or anyone away, not really. All I want is—"

"Revenge," Gambit stated flatly. "Yes, I know. That's why I'm worried." He glanced at the table, patted a spot in front of where he stood. "Hop up here and I'll see about those battle scars of yours."

Purdey raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this the wrong time to be playing doctor?"

"Best time. And I'm not playing. Healing hands, remember?" He rose them to chest level and flexed his strong fingers invitingly. Purdey could almost feel the breeze in the field where he had first said those words, and the smile that followed was enough to get her hiked onto the table.

"It's not such a foreign concept to you," she pointed out when Gambit was hunting out the plasters.

"Healing?"

"Revenge," she clarified. "You were planning on hunting down everyone involved with my curare poisoning. Don't deny it. Steed told me."

"I don't plan to," Gambit assured, tipping some alcohol onto a cloth and proceeding to dab at her mostly-healed gash at her neck.

"Then you know what I'm feeling," she persisted, as Mike finished up and put the plaster over the wound.

"Yes," he admitted, extracting a roll of tape. "But you made it in the end." He pulled at the end and unrolled the tape. "Hold out your bad wrist." Purdey complied and he continued as he secured the injured extremity over what had already been applied. "And I'll tell you something—I could easily pull the trigger on any man that ever hurt you and not feel even the tiniest bit of remorse."

"Just like that?" she queried.

"Just like that." And the words were punctuated by the audible snap of the tape as he finished up the binding. Purdey caught the set of his jaw as he did so, and knew he was deadly serious.

I can only imagine if you crossed paths with Larry, she mused inwardly, but tried her best to push past the old, dead memories. He wouldn't stand a chance.

"But here's the difference," Gambit went on, locking eyes with hers. "I don't hang about hating them. Do you know why? Because you're still here, and all I'd be doing is depriving myself of the person I was trying to save to begin with. If I lost you that day..." He paused, and Purdey could see he was reigning in whatever emotions that were threatening to surface. "I wouldn't have had anything to go back to, anything to lose, nothing I couldn't drop in favour of going after them. And that still wouldn't make it right, in the end. But on top of it all, Purdey, you do. You've got people who care about you—family, friends. Your father wouldn't want you to let go of everything just to destroy one man, and I'll bet your mother wouldn't be too keen on it, either."

Purdey studied her feet. Gambit sighed tiredly.

"I'm not trying to lecture you. It's just that I know--revenge, killing for the sake of killing—it does something to your soul, Purdey, and I'd hate to see yours tarnished."

Purdey brought her eyes back up to his again, saw emptiness behind them. "You sound as though you speak from experience."

"Yeah, well, I've got a few dark corners I'm not too proud of."

"At least you know how to overcome them," Purdey pointed out gently.

"Exactly," Gambit said gruffly. "And that's why I'm going to stay and make sure you don't go overboard, but on one condition. We catch him, but we don't kill him. We bring him in, let the authorities process him. Then it'll be justice we're serving, not revenge," Gambit said, very seriously.

Purdey frowned. "But—"

"No buts," Gambit said firmly. "I'm not backing down on this one. But I won't make you go home just yet and I won't leave you alone. I can't speak for Steed and Emma, though. You'll have to make your own deals with them. But first you've got to promise you won't go hunting gun in hand."

"Oh, all right," Purdey agreed with an audible sigh. "I promise."

"Good." Gambit hadn't relinquished control of the tape. He was eyeing Purdey's side with the expression of someone who had cracked his share of ribs and knew what to look for. And how to hide it.

"Does that hurt?" he queried, deflecting the sombre mood that had settled over the pair, and she followed his gaze gratefully. "When some idiot's not squeezing the life out of it, anyway?"

Purdey smirked at the reference. "Just a bit," she allowed. "When I lift my arms or twist the wrong way."

"Right." Gambit nodded to himself thoughtfully. "That'll need taping, too, at the very least. Up with the shirt."

Purdey blanched. "What?" she exclaimed, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her top.

Gambit made a face that was more impatience than embarrassment. "You're not going to do anyone any good if you can't lift your arm above your shoulder, and I'm not taping over top. Come on, come on."

Purdey still had the cloth in an iron grip. "Mike Gambit, you've tried some things, but this..."

"Don't look at me like that," Gambit scolded gently. "If I'm right, you took the impact right about here." He reached out and pressed gently four inches above her hip. Purdey winced visibly, and he withdrew quickly. "Sorry," he apologised. "But it's not very far up. I'm not going to see much more than your belly button." He paused, and a wicked grin spread across his features. "Sadly."

Purdey shook her head in disbelief. "You do beat all, don't you, Mike?" She sighed and set about rolling up her shirt. "The things I do for this job."

"I like to think of them as perks," Gambit said cheerfully, proceeding to wind the tape around her torso. "Let me know if this hurts."

"It always hurts," Purdey muttered. "But you're not making it too much worse."

"Good." Gambit fell silent as he concentrated on his task. Purdey watched him for a few moments before the lack of dialogue got to her. After all, it had been weeks since she'd met anyone who knew "The Treasure of Sierra Madre" in anything other than Portuguese, and the lack of companionable conversation had been less than enjoyable.

"You're awfully good at this," she commented, as Gambit put the finishing touches on her side. "And here I thought you were clueless the way you went on every time you got so much as a scratch."

Gambit smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot of experience on the other side of the doctor-patient relationship. Army, navy—they both teach you some first aid, and sadly I've had more than a few reasons to keep in practice." He paused, and frowned at some far off memory. "Particularly when you're tramping around where the nearest hospital is miles away." He smiled at her questioning gaze, switched back to banter. "Can't help but pick up a few things, but it's just as easy to forget when there's a promising nurse in the area."

Purdey chuckled. "I'll have to remember that next time you play the invalid."

"Don't say that. There's got to be some incentive to getting shot."

"Not too much, I hope. The Germans can only spare so many transfusions."

"Very funny." He looked her over once again, scanning for any other injuries. "That should be everything, except—" His gaze dropped to her thigh. "—the bite."

Purdey shifted uncomfortably. "It's nothing to worry about," she protested mildly. "They got all the poison out."

"Yes, I could see that," Gambit reminded. "Earlier, when you were having a look. That gash wasn't from the bite."

"They had to cut it open to take out the venom," Purdey explained. "And then it got infected when it started to heal, and they had to cut it open again. But they did have it bandaged until I took it off a few days ago. It was itching, but I think it's all right."

"All the same," Gambit pushed gently. "I'd like to take a look, just to make sure that nothing's gone wrong. At the very least you need to bandage it up so you've got less of a chance of reopening it jumping out of trees."

Purdey crossed her arms. "What I need is a partner who doesn't want to play doctor," she snapped. "Particularly when the wound is someplace interesting."

"Purdey," Gambit said quietly. "This isn't a trick, anymore than it was with your side. I'm not trying anything. I'd be worried no matter where it was on your body, but the little bugger got you in the thigh, so that's what I need to see."

Purdey sighed and glanced at her feet. "I trust you—"

"Good."

"—but you can't blame me for feeling vulnerable," she pointed out, blue eyes flicking up to meet his. There was something else behind the words, and he knew it. "Even if it's you."

"I know," he assured. "But if it makes you feel any better, I won't look anywhere but the bite."

Purdey looked sceptical.

"All right," Gambit amended. "I'll try not to look anywhere but the bite."

Purdey hesitated, but couldn't deny the throbbing ache where the wound required a little extra support. So slowly, reluctantly, she drew back her skirt on the right side, all the way to the bite on the thigh. Gambit looked relieved.

"Thanks," he told her, and moved in to get a better look, sucked air in sharply. "That looks like it hurts."

"It does."

"Right, well it's going to hurt more, sadly," he admitted, soaking another cloth in alcohol. "But it needs to be sterilised. I can't do too much for the pain, but if it gets too heavy, tell me. The last thing I want to do is add to the damage." He looked her in the eye. "Ready?"

Purdey reached out and put her hand on his shoulders to brace herself. "Ready," she confirmed.

She kept looking at his face, even as his gaze drifted downwards, felt a mixture of relief and comfort when one hand tentatively rested on her thigh to steady it, while the other dabbed cautiously at the wound. It stung like hell, but Purdey was lucky enough to have other sensations to distract her. He'd never touched her quite this way, and she felt a pleasurable chill race down her spine. Maybe it was being away from him for so long that amplified the sensations. Either way, she was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. Only he'd stopped. She only realised she'd closed her eyes when she eased them open again, and she found Gambit staring at her with a mixture of worry and bemusement.

"You okay?" he queried, and Purdey frowned.

"Fine. Why?"

"You sucked in a good bit of air just now. I thought things may have gotten a little too intense."

You don't know the half of it. "No," she told him. "No, I'm fine."

"Good," Gambit murmured. "Then you won't mind taking your nails out of my shoulder. They went clean through my shirt a moment ago."

Purdey realised belatedly that she was digging into Gambit's shoulder, and relaxed her grip with a flush of embarrassment. "Sorry."

He waved it off, reaching for the magic tape again. "This really is going to scar, you know."

"I know," Purdey agreed with a sigh. Gambit's left hand was still holding things steady, but the right was busy winding tape, and it made it easier to focus. "I suppose it's just as well the miniskirt's gone out of fashion."

"Sadly," Gambit quipped, with that familiar grin playing at his lips. "But look on the bright side—if we ever run into another of those doubles, I'll have a surefire to identify you."

Purdey snorted. "I suppose you'll be seeing doubles everywhere from now on," she quipped.

"I'm quite happy with one of you," Gambit told her, cutting the tape. "I don't think I could handle two mad marshmallow-eating women."

"Your loss," Purdey teased. "Anyway, you seem perfectly capable of switching back and forth between women." Gambit arched an eyebrow. "Mrs. Peel," she elaborated. "Or should I say 'Emma'?"

"Yes, Emma," Gambit confirmed flatly, although he was having difficulty holding back his excitement at being on the other side of the jealousy game. "What about her?"

"What about--? You know very well what I mean. Where did you meet?"

"At a party," Gambit revealed, looking infuriatingly smug about the whole thing.

Purdey narrowed her eyes. "What sort of party?"

"A Christmas party. Really, Purdey, what do you take me for?"

Purdey shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"The odds of you and Emma Peel just happening to be at the same party are astronomical. I mean, you don't exactly travel in the same circles."

"Maybe not for the most part," Gambit allowed, "but you're forgetting one obvious connection."

Purdey frowned. "What?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's outside."

"Steed?!" Purdey exclaimed. "You met her at Steed's Christmas party? That's impossible. I was there last year."

"Who said anything about last year?" Gambit teased.

Purdey's jaw felt the pull of gravity, but she barely managed to rein it in. "Gambit," she said tightly. "How long have you known Mrs. Peel exactly?"

"Let's see. That was Christmas Eve, '75, so—"

"That was three days before I met you," Purdey said tartly. "And here I thought I was your..."

"First? Sorry, Purdey-girl."

Purdey crossed her arms tightly, and scowled. "You might have told me."

"I did tell you," Gambit contradicted. "Last Christmas. Remember? The best gift for Steed is liquid and best served chilled. I told you she gave me the tip."

Purdey was eyeing him in disbelief. "I thought you were joking," she defended.

"I'd never joke about Emma," Gambit said in mock-seriousness.

"Well, you didn't exactly go out of your way to discourage me, either," Purdey pointed out.

"Because I knew you'd make a fuss," Gambit explained. "Every time someone so much as mentions Emma, you look as though you've been sucking a lemon. Don't deny it—you're doing it now."

"I am not," Purdey grumbled sourly, then paused as a thought occurred to her. "Wait...wait, you spun a story about Christmas, 1975 for me. About how things got a bit hot, and you left with someone..." She locked eyes with him, daring him to contradict the unspoken line of reasoning. Gambit was unfazed.

"That's right," he stated flatly, and Purdey felt her heart stop. If she could be replaced on the team, what happened to the other territories that she hadn't gotten around to conquering?

"Mike Gambit," she said, with menace underlying her voice, "please tell me that if I went in that little black book of yours, I wouldn't find a certain entry under 'P'."

Gambit frowned. "Of course not," he dismissed, and Purdey relaxed ever-so-slightly. "You know she goes by 'Knight' now."

This time Purdey's heart dropped into her stomach, and her jaw did the same. This couldn't be right. Gambit would never...and Emma certainly would never...well, all those rumours about her and Steed made it impossible. Then again, it had been years since the glorious sixties, and Gambit was attractive and virile and another agent with more than a passing fondness for the former Emma Peel. Purdey tried her best to clear away the mental image that surfaced.

"But she's older than you." The words came out without her permission, but all Gambit did was grin one of those infuriating grins.

"Nothing wrong with older women. Experienced. Anyway, she's not even forty."

Purdey was finding it difficult to breathe. This couldn't be happening. How could Gambit do this to her? Then again, he hadn't known her at the time. But what about in the meantime? Purdey found herself casting her mind back to every occasion that Gambit had mentioned a 'hot date.' How many of those...?

Gambit leaned forward, eyes boring into hers. "Do you want to know the truth?"

Purdey felt puzzlement slide in among the other emotions clamouring for attention. "What?"

"I'm trying to prove a point, because you owe Emma a hell of a lot—not just your position with the Ministry, but Steed and me even getting here. And all you seem to be interested in is jumping to conclusions."

Purdey felt a sliver of hope. "You mean...?"

"I took her out for a drink," Gambit revealed. "And we talked for an hour or two. Then I left for Canada and she went back to the party."

Purdey could have died with relief. "And since then?"

Gambit shrugged. "Sometimes I give her a ring, sometimes she calls me. Knight has one or two contracts with the military, and she's asked for my input a few times." He smiled ruefully. "It's the only stock I have. I don't trust myself with the stock market anymore than I do with horse races."

Purdey managed a smirk at that. "You are mean. But why didn't you tell me? Why all the secrecy?"

"I already told you—because you'd have a fit and jump to all the wrong conclusions no matter what I told you. Purdey, I don't know what you think I've been up to all this time, but I sure as hell haven't been carrying on with Emma. She's a friend. But I thought if you knew, it'd muck up our partnership. Steed's not entirely pleased about it. And don't deny that you were thinking the worst of me just now."

Purdey bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was wrong."

"You were wrong," Gambit agreed. "But now we've gotten this over with we can move on and try to do something about Pym."

"Right," Purdey agreed. "You're right."

Gambit arched an eyebrow. "That's a first."

She scrunched up her face up at him. "I just don't want to be replaced."

"You replaced her. And Tara King," Gambit pointed out. "You're the last girl, you know, to be Steed's partner. I don't think you'll ever have a replacement. You do realise that it'll be up to us to carry on the John Steed legacy?" He smiled ruefully. "Whole idea scares the hell out of me."

Purdey looked thoughtful. "Do you really think so?"

Gambit shook his head in disbelief. "Purdey, Purdey, Purdey-girl. Do you think you're replaceable?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I wouldn't have thought so an hour ago."

"Well, not in my eyes." And he kissed her hand.

"Fascinating."

"What?" Gambit asked in bemusement.

"To see three weeks of accumulated charm escaping at once. You really have been behaving yourself. I'll bet the only other woman you've spoken to this past month is the lady who cleans your flat."

Gambit shuddered. "I'd prefer not to think about her just now."

"You could clean it yourself."

"I'd rather not think of that, either."

"Well," Purdey said as she slid off the table. "At least I'm second."

"Come again?"

"The second of Steed's female partners to cross paths with you," she clarified.

Gambit rubbed the back of neck uneasily. "About that..."

Purdey narrowed her eyes. "Gambit..."

"Well, Emma wasn't the first, actually," he told her reluctantly. "I was in Africa, you see, and there was this blonde who just about took my head off with her hunting rifle."

Purdey rolled her eyes expansively. "Don't tell me. Mrs. Gale?"

"Dr. Gale, actually," Gambit corrected without nearly as much enthusiasm as he had Emma's moniker. "In my defence, it was before my Ministry days. I only made the connection a few years later." He frowned in thought. "Come to think of it, it must have been Steed she kept muttering about."

Purdey tapped her foot impatiently. "It's a pity she missed," she commented. "Anyone else I should know about in your quest to collect all four? I suppose you play bridge with Tara King on the weekends."

"She dropped by my training class once,," Gambit admitted. "But we didn't talk. All she did was smile and say hello."

"Thinking happy thoughts, obviously."

"So was I."

Purdey sighed. "I think I liked it better when it was just Emma."

"Well, you'll like her even more in a moment. I got her to pack you some clean clothes."

Purdey grabbed a handful of Gambit's jacket and pulled hard. "You let her go through my wardrobe?"

"Would you rather it was me? Or Steed?" Gambit pointed out, and Purdey loosened her grip ever-so-slightly.

"It's still humiliating," Purdey muttered, but released him nonetheless. "But I suppose there's not much I can do about it now." She turned to leave. "But you owe me a very, very expensive dinner when we get back to London."

Gambit smiled. "Deal."