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 and Tara King are 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: Yes, the end has come. This is the final chapter. This fic was meant to get me through some busy times when I would only have time to edit, not write, and it's served its purpose well. Six months of updates. I'm very pleased at how well this story's gone down, and I've loved getting all the positive reviews. They've been much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to the story, and stay tuned for further adventures with our favourite triumvirate.
Cheers!
"Purdey."
She only noticed Gambit's voice because he'd been silent for so long, and it cut into her consciousness, delving deep into her brain and refusing to be ignored.
"Purdey," Gambit pleaded, emotion threatening to break his voice. "Purdey, put the gun down. Trust me, you don't want to do this." You don't want to become me.
"I've killed before," she growled, voice barely recognizable. "I can handle it. I have to."
"This isn't the same," Gambit countered forcefully, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and was threatening to render him mute. He needed his voice, needed to make her understand. "When you kill because you have to, that's one thing, because you know that there's nothing else you could have done, except die yourself. But this. This is an execution. Cold, calculated. And when you do it, you know you've got a hundred other choices, but you're choosing to be kill anyway. And that does something to you. You go to bed, and you remember. You remember every expression on his face, and every thought that went through your mind, and every chance you had to avoid being a killer." He closed his eyes. Purdey could tell, even though she wasn't looking at him. She could just tell. "And when you do it when you're so close to him, the way you are now…" He paused and suppressed a shudder. "It's messy. It's everywhere. Head goes inside out, and you can feel the wet, and the stickiness, and you can smell it. Goes up your sinuses and stays, and even the next day when you've rinsed it out of everything, you can still smell it, and you can still see the spray, and hear the shot. And you think, who the hell would do that? On purpose?" His voice was shaking now, violently, and Purdey finally tore her eyes away from Pym to look at him. His eyes were still closed, and she knew he was somewhere else, someplace that went far beyond her, and Pym, and Brazil. "And then you pull out the reasons," Gambit went on, "and the decisions, and the human part of your brain doesn't understand them, so the calculating bit kicks in to try and make some sort of sense out of it. And then that part takes control, because you go mad otherwise. And one day, one day, you wake up and you can't smell the blood because you smell it all the time, and you're used to it, and you know you've gone too damn far, and there's nothing anyone can do." He took a ragged breath, as though the words had torn at his soul and part of his life essence had drained away. "You don't want to be that person, Purdey. Trust me. No one does. No one deserves that, least of all you. If you kill him, then you'll give up the one advantage you have in this game, and that's your humanity. It makes you tick. Don't throw it away."
Steed and Emma were looking on in horrified fascination. Clearly Gambit's confession came from experience, and from Steed's expression he had some idea as to what it was. Purdey certainly didn't, couldn't think of an instance in their partnership that would be so painful for him to recall that he had to screw his eyes shut just to talk about it. She was really looking at him now, and as he opened them again, there was something in his face that took hold, that shook her from her bloodlust. Gambit looked frightened, his eyes pleading as he stretched out his hand for the weapon. But it wasn't just the fear. It was the face. The face that was thinner than it ought to have been, too drawn, too pinched, too tired, too...sad. The face that had logged each and every day she had been missing with startling accuracy. She'd done this to him, not intentionally, but by choosing to stay on without telling anyone. She could have made contact if she had really wanted to—it would have been hard, but not impossible. But she'd been so afraid of what would happen, that she'd lose the chance to catch the man that had destroyed her life all those years ago. She didn't think it would impact anyone but her. Then she remembered her imagined father's words--Gambit's words, spoken as he bandaged her leg, lodged somewhere in her subconscious. The people she cared about...
She thought she'd been fighting for them, but she could see now that she'd only been selfishly hurting those who meant the most to her. It would have been better to put in a request for Gambit's help than to leave him to suffer all these weeks. It would have been kinder. But she hadn't been thinking about him. Only herself.
That was wrong. So, so wrong. And the longer she looked at Mike, the wronger it seemed. Then she looked at Steed, and it was like a blow to the gut. Even Emma caused a twinge of guilt. They had agreed to help her on this assignment, against their better judgment, risking their own lives and careers. It had been too much to ask, but they hadn't thought twice about agreeing. And she hadn't lived up to her part of the bargain.
She turned back to Pym, looked at the sweat trickling down his forehead around the gun barrel pressed against his skin. It would be so easy. No one would be able to stop her in time. She wanted this man to pay for what he had done to her. That hadn't changed. That would never change.
But she wanted Gambit—her Gambit, not the haunted man—back even more.
She couldn't do this. Not to him.
"I'm not letting you take anything else," she told Pym, who frowned in puzzlement at her words. But she was hardly paying any attention to him anymore. He seemed irrelevant. Slowly, carefully, she lowered the gun, gently easing the safety back into position. Gambit stepped forward quickly, hand closing gently around hers, pulling the weapon from her grasp, and handing it over to Emma. The other woman took charge immediately. Purdey watched her corner Pym, watched Steed move to her side, and suddenly felt herself go limp, weak, completely slack as one month of tension and fear and hate and uncertainty and bloodlust and vengeance flowed out of her, leaving her nothing but the desire to fold to the ground exhausted. But before she could, Gambit's arms were there, steadying her collapsing frame and pulling her close so she could lean her suddenly unbearably-heavy head against his chest. It was so solid, and the heartbeat beneath so soothing, she turned her face into it and let herself shake and cry, this time with relief. She didn't care how she looked to anyone. It was over. One month, eleven years, whatever. The uncertainty, the fear, the perpetually angry mindset, all gone. For the first time since Grey had ushered her into McKay's office, she felt like herself again. Gambit held her tight, stroking her hair and making soothing noises, understanding, somehow, that she needed to let everything out.
"Welcome back, Purdey-girl," he said quietly, and her heart lifted with thoughts of home.
"It's good to be back," she whispered, and tipped her head up so she could look at his face. He still looked tired, but there was relief where before there had only been terror and ghostly memories. His eyes were alive again, the flicker of humour reignited. She wanted to say something, to thank him, to ask him how he knew so much, but she was so tired, the words refused to come. So she just smiled, and he smiled back, and all seemed right with the world.
It was at that moment that dozens of footsteps sounded in the corridor, and soon a team of black-clad men burst into the room, armed and very dangerous. Purdey felt Gambit's arms tighten around her, and she found her own footing, ready to defend against the unexpected threat, but Emma motioned for them to relax. Already the leader of the group was approaching her, while others moved purposefully toward Pym. Through the door, she could see more men restraining the guard she'd disposed of earlier, and something told her there were throughout the base, taking care of Pym's men and placating Grey's.
Emma was approaching Purdey and Gambit with the leader in tow, followed by Steed. "It's all right," she told the pair. "This is the man my friend contacted. Davi Sperafico of the Centro de Informações do Exército. The Army Intelligence Centre."
"The CIE," Gambit said in recognition. "I worked in conjunction with one of your lot, a few years back, when I was still army. Mike Gambit." He held out his hand and the man shook it.
"Ah, Captain Gambit, was it not?" Sperafico spoke accented, yet completely understandable, English. "I remember your file passing over my desk."
"It was Major when I left, actually," Gambit corrected with a smile, and caught Purdey's eye.
"You do get around, don't you Mike Gambit?" she said dryly.
"It's a talent," Gambit replied with a wink.
Sperafico had transferred his attention to Purdey. "And this is the young lady? Purdey?"
"Yes," Purdey confirmed, taking the offered hand. "Purdey Bryde."
Sperafico arched an eyebrow. "Bryde? Any relation to...?"
"Yes," Purdey repeated, eyes flicking to Pym. "But I'd just as soon that didn't go any farther. Just Purdey, please."
"Pois nao," the Brazilian agent agreed. He turned to address the group as a whole. "My men will take care of all of Pym's men."
"There's one outside, too," Purdey revealed. "Around back, by the car. There's a tunnel that leads outside."
"So I have been told. Some of my men have been dispatched. They will also see to it that Sr. Grey's men are kept away until you have left. Purdey, you will have to stay on to help us with our report. It will be you that we will say contacted us and asked for us to enter the base. Once you have filled out the paperwork, we will hand Sr. Pym over to your authorities as promised, and you may return home. You." He addressed the rest of the group. "Sra. Knight told us that you are officially in Canada." He extracted an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Steed. "There are plane tickets for an early flight to Toronto, and after a short layover, to England. I suggest you leave immediately and break up your camp. Purdey will fly out later this morning."
Steed was examining the tickets. "These will do nicely," he approved. "Thank you."
"I am glad to be of service. These men have been causing trouble for years. We are happy to be rid of them." He turned to Purdey. "Sr. Grey's men will come soon. We cannot keep them out forever. It was difficult to gain entrance, even though it is our jurisdiction, and they will not leave us alone for long."
Purdey nodded. "I understand. Just give me a moment to say good-bye."
Sperafico nodded in agreement. "Ate mais tarde."
Purdey smiled gratefully. "Obrigado," she thanked, and waited until he had excused himself before turning back to her team. "Thank you," she told the trio. "I know I took a wrong turn, but you don't know how grateful I am you let me do this."
"Nonsense. That's what friends are for," Steed enthused. "I'm just grateful you didn't go through with it in the end. And that you were here to be found." Purdey smiled and gave him a hug before moving on to Emma.
"You too, Ms. Knight. I owe you for keeping an eye on these two while I was gone."
"They were reasonably well-behaved," Emma quipped with a wink. "And I won't say I'm sorry it came right before a Knight board meeting." She offered a hand, and Purdey shook it without qualms for the first time.
That left Gambit, and Purdey watched Steed and Emma drift off to a corner before speaking. He was grinning at her, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes. "Don't worry," she assured, squeezing his shoulder. "I won't disappear again."
"You'd better not. I've got enough insect bites to last me a decade. I don't think there's a patch of skin they haven't chewed up." Purdey laughed in spite of herself, but stopped when Gambit lifted her chin so he could look in her eyes. "Take great care of yourself, Purdey. I don't think I can do this again."
"I'll be fine," she promised. "I have the very attractive Sr. Sperafico to look out for me while you're gone. Before you know it, we'll be back in London having that dinner you promised me. It is still on?"
"Of course it is. Someone's got to keep you fed." They shared a chuckle that devolved into more smiles. "Be seeing you, Purdey-girl," he murmured, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. She watched him walk away to join Steed and Emma, then returned the wave all three sent her way. Then they were gone, ushered off by Sperafico's men. She sighed wistfully, wishing she could go with them, but there was still unfinished business. Turning, she made her way over to the CIE man.
"Right," she began, brushing her hair from her eyes. "What do you need me to do?"
***
They gave her her suitcases back, and installed her in the same hotel room that she had occupied one month earlier. Purdey retrieved her passport and thought about everything that had happened since she had left the room weeks before. It seemed like no time at all had passed, with the breeze ruffling the curtains, and the sounds of the city outside. But the next evening, back in England, when she found herself trudging down the 21 steps to her flat, and opened the door, it felt like the opposite—a million years since she had slept here, eaten here, talked to Steed and Gambit about the assignment. And yet nothing had changed. Obviously Steed and Gambit, ever the optimists, had retained a cleaning lady, because the flat was spotless, not a trace of dust to be found. They'd planned for her to come back, and that felt good. Almost as good as the bath she ran for herself and settled into luxuriously. And the bed with the clean sheets that she pulled around her with a sigh. She turned over and hugged her pillow. Life was good.
She was looking at the chair by her bed now, and for the first time she noticed something draped over the arm. In the dying light it was hard to make out, and she was tempted to wait until morning to investigate rather than leave the wonderful sheets. But Purdey's curiousity always got the better of her, and she was soon clambering out of the bed to see what the dark shape was.
As soon as she had the light on, it became clear that it was the infamous jacket, which she presumed had been left out by Emma when she was packing. But as Purdey picked it up to put away, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Purdey frowned and bent to retrieve it, held it under the lamp so she could read the untidy scrawl. She grinned at the short note.
You don't have to give it back if it's a gift.
It wasn't signed. It didn't have to be. She knew Mike's writing as well as she did her own. She held the jacket up, then buried her nose in it. More than a year now, and it still smelled of him, despite its days in her closet. It still smelt of home. She switched off the lamp, climbed back into the bed, and fell asleep with the jacket in her arms and a smile on her face.
***
Gambit tapped a cheery tattoo on Purdey's door until he saw movement behind the curtain. When it swung open, he was greeted by a bleary-eyed Purdey, rubbing her face sleepily as she tried to focus on Gambit's smiling visage.
"Isn't it a bit early for you to be demonstrating your sense of rhythm?" she said acridly.
"Nonsense. It's a beautiful day, and here you are, sleeping it away," Gambit chastised, all aglow. "Can I come in?"
"It's half past eight," Purdey pointed out as Gambit sidled past, leaving her to close the door behind them. "By your clock, that's not even close to breakfast. What are you doing up at this hour?" She cast an eye over Gambit's perpetual grin and bright eyes and felt her heart sink. "Mike," she moaned, rubbing her temples. "How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"
"A few," Gambit answered vaguely.
"How many on them were intravenous?"
"Just the first one," Gambit replied with a wink. "Come on, Purdey. You're back. I haven't felt this good all month."
"How nice for you," Purdey muttered.
Gambit grin only got wider. "Even nicer for you. I'm taking you out."
"Out where?" Purdey asked suspiciously, unsure of what Gambit's unusual buoyancy meant for her.
"Wherever your heart desires. I know you must be planning on making a trip to rejoin society. And I also know that you can't drive with that leg."
"I was going to take my bike," Purdey protested. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Gambit insisted. "Come on, Purdey. You've been stuck in the Amazon for a month, hiking through the undergrowth. Least I can do is ferry you around, help cushion the culture shock."
Purdey arched an eyebrow. "Culture shock?"
"I think the trousers are half an inch longer than when you left."
Purdey splayed a hand across her brow as though stricken. "Horrors!" She shared Gambit's grin. "But it's only fair to warn you, it won't exactly be the most exciting of outings. Just errands. Stock up on provisions…"
"Get a manicure," Gambit suggested, rubbing his arm ruefully where her nails had dug in during that impromptu first-aid session. "For my sake. You could kill the way they are now."
"Don't tempt me."
"Look." Gambit took a step toward her. "We'll make a day of it. I'll take you to lunch. I did promise you as much."
"You promised me dinner."
"We'll have both, then."
Purdey pouted. "That's not fair. You know I can't turn down a meal, let alone two."
"It's working, isn't it?"
"Mike Gambit, I think you're desperate for my company," Purdey said smugly, eyes confident.
"That and your eyes back," he murmured, parting her overlong bangs so he could get a better view of the bright blue pools. "You might want to add a haircut to the list if you don't want to bang into things. Besides, you know how lonely I get."
"You had Mrs. Peel for that," Purdey reminded tartly, although the gentle sweeps of Gambit's fingers as they cleared away the hair took some of the sting out of her words.
"You know it's not the same thing with Emma," Gambit chided gently. "Although I'm curious as to why you find her relationship with me so interesting. You're not jealous by any chance?"
Purdey bristled. "Of course not," she said hastily. "I just hope you're not making a mistake and putting all your hopes on some woman who's—"
"Not you?" Gambit asked knowingly.
She blushed. "I was going to say not suitable, but really, I have better things to worry about than your love life."
"Then why did your sun burn just get darker?" Gambit observed, smile playing on his lips. "By the way, how's your leg?"
"Healing nicely," she replied, taking refuge in the new topic.
"Doesn't need a touch-up by any chance?" Gambit queried, blue-green eyes sliding downwards while Purdey tried not to be swayed by his gaze. "I wouldn't mind putting my healing hands to work again. Particularly there."
For a moment, she could almost feel his touch again, resisted the urge to let him make it a reality. "I'll manage," she breathed, well-aware she flushing even more. Gambit washed her deepening colour with vague amusement.
"Darker still," he quipped. "Must have left the curtains open while you were sleeping."
"All right," Purdey gave in. "I'll go. Give me fifteen minutes."
"No hurry," Gambit replied, taking a seat on the couch. "I've been waiting for you for four weeks. Half an hour more won't kill me"
She shook her head. He really was impossible, wonderfully so. She'd missed him.
***
"Finished already?" Gambit commented, without looking up from his paper, as Purdey climbed in the passenger door of the Jag.
"Well, there wasn't as much to be done as I'd thought," Purdey explained.
"No? But you said—" He broke off as he looked up at her finally, mouth dropping open in surprise. The hair had hardly been touched. Smoothed out and tamed, certainly, but nowhere near the sleek bob he been accustomed to. It was a shaggier cut, layered. Purdey sighed in exasperation as he tried to form sentences. He'd had the exact same reaction when she had cut her hair the last time, and it was just as tiresome now.
"Honestly, Gambit, if you're going to act this way every time I change my hair, you'll spend an awful lot of your life looking like a bird that's hit a windscreen."
"No bob?" Gambit managed.
"No bob," Purdey confirmed. "I decided to go with it, have a change. Nothing wrong with change, is there?"
"As long as you don't change too much," Gambit allowed, and she could hear the relief in his voice. "You came back intact. That's enough for me."
She smiled appreciatively. "What do you think? Really?"
"I think it'll take some getting used to, but...I like it," Gambit admitted. "I always thought you were beautiful with longer hair. When we met you wore it well."
Purdey grinned. "Well, it's going to get longer, so that's just as well." She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the compliment."
Gambit looked very pleased. "What'll I get for an ode to your dress?"
"A job at Vogue," Purdey quipped.
Gambit looked thoughtful. "Do they need someone to supervise the models?" he wondered.
"Don't push it," Purdey warned.
Gambit snapped out of his reverie. "Right. Ready to make your debut?"
"Very."
"Think your leg will take the strain on the walk down the corridors?" Gambit wanted to know, looking concerned.
"Don't worry about me," Purdey replied.
Gambit shook his head. "Sorry. That's not an option."
"Then worry a little less. I'll be fine. I have Grey as motivation. And if I fall, you'll be there to catch me."
Gambit seemed satisfied with this explanation. "Let's go, then. I'm looking forward to this."
***
Steed's car was waiting for them in front of the Ministry, the man himself leaning casually against the bodywork, umbrella swinging lazily. He looked nothing like a man who had just returned from the Amazon. But if he had, he wouldn't be Steed, Purdey thought fondly as she climbed out of Gambit's Jaguar. Mike himself followed her to greet the senior agent, but Purdey was surprised to see a decidedly feminine silhouette in Steed's passenger seat. She nudged Gambit gently in the ribs, pointed her chin at the figure as they approached. Steed noticed the gesture, and grinned.
"I brought someone along," he told the pair when they came to a stop beside him. "We're planning on lunch afterwards. I hope you don't mind."
"No," Purdey began. "But who—"
"Emma!" Gambit said cheerfully, bending down to peer in the window at the passenger. The enthusiasm in his voice sent both Purdey and Steed's mouths twitching downward, in what looked suspiciously like jealousy. "I thought you'd be sick of us by now."
"On the contrary." The auburn-haired beauty stepped out of the car and turned to address Gambit over the roof. "I've been spoiled. The desk at Knight hasn't looked so unappealing in years." She returned Gambit's grin. "Anyway, I thought I'd see you off on your triumphant return."
"Want to come along?" Gambit offered, seemingly oblivious to the sudden sting of Purdey's shoe as it connected with his shin. "They'd be dumbstruck for weeks."
"I think we ought to spare them," Emma said, mock serious. "They're in for enough as it is." She cocked her head playfully. "You're welcome to join us for lunch, though."
"I'm tempted," Gambit said coyly, as Purdey's scowl deepened. "But we made plans. And Purdey's going to need three or four lunches to make up for the past month."
"Another time, then," Emma offered, stretching a hand across the roof. Gambit took it in agreement.
"Definitely." There was one last shared smile, and then he let go and turned back to his colleagues. "Right, Purdey-girl. Ready for your debut?"
"It's about time," Purdey muttered, flouncing off toward the Ministry's entrance. Steed tipped his bowler at Emma before turning to make after the younger pair.
"I think you do that on purpose," Purdey hissed at Mike when they were three again.
"Do what?" Gambit asked innocently.
"Mrs. Peel isn't entirely innocent, either," Steed murmured, looking pointedly at Gambit. "Are you certain there isn't something you'd like to tell us?"
"About Emma?" Gambit stopped and turned to face them. "I don't see why you're so suspicious. Don't you think I can have a purely platonic relationship with an attractive woman?"
"No," Purdey said flatly, arms crossed.
Gambit raised an eyebrow. "What does that say about you and me?"
Purdey's face transformed with a devilish grin. "I'm not sure 'platonic' is an accurate descriptor at this stage of the game. Not after the curare."
"Little too accurate if you ask me," Gambit mused. "But we're meant to put up a united front, aren't we? Come on, I want to watch Grey squirm."
"You'll need this." Steed handed him a file Mike he'd been holding. "Everything we need." Gambit opened the folder and perused the contents as Purdey peered over his shoulder. Identical wide grins spread across both faces in unison.
"That'll do," Purdey said smugly, turning to face the flight of steps to the Ministry's entrance, waited for Steed and Gambit to follow suit. "Let's make certain he remembers this."
They started up the steps as one, pushed open the door, and strode past the front desk, where half a dozen administrators immediately did a double-take.
A wave of silence followed them down the corridor, as secretaries, agents, researchers, technicians, file clerks, and all manner of Ministry personnel stopped what they were doing, and stood, frozen in place, to watch the trio make their journey. Purdey couldn't resist the slight smile tugging at her lips. Steed and Gambit reappearing from their 'compassionate' leave would have been more than enough grist for the rumour mill, but adding her miraculous return after so many weeks missing meant the department was ready to implode. Clearly, McKay hadn't made the news public after she had phoned in to give him a brief report the day before. She didn't mind. She was relishing her 'entrance,' and even her leg wasn't enough to dent her confidence as she strode effortlessly beside her colleagues. They were three again, a team, and everyone knew it, or soon would. She found herself wishing she could catch Grey similarly unawares, but that was too much to hope for. His people would have contacted him the instant she stepped out of the base.
Gambit and Steed led her to Grey's HQ, and Purdey was amused when the first person to see them dropped his pencil. No one accosted them as they made their way to Grey's office, too stunned to even consider it. Gambit held the door for Purdey so she could enter first, and she did so with a spring in her step.
Grey was seated at his desk, poring over paperwork, but the sound of the door made him look up and remove his reading glasses hurriedly. He glared at the trio as they lined up in front of him.
"You," he hissed, jabbing a finger at Purdey.
"Yes, me," Purdey agreed, trying not to smile. "Aren't you glad to see me, safe and sound?"
"You undermined my authority in Brazil," Grey growled, ignoring the comment, "bringing those CIE men in. You had no right—"
"I had every right," Purdey interrupted. "I was working for you the entire time I was in Brazil."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to believe that?" Grey exclaimed, clearly outraged. "You went undercover so you could work on your own, so you could investigate what happened to your father." He whirled on Steed and Gambit. "And you! I know you went to Brazil. I know you broke into the base!"
"You're mistaken. We've been in Canada," Steed said without the slightest hint of irony. "Toronto and area. We stayed with an old colleague of mine. Tara King. She'll confirm."
"I've already spoken with Miss King," Grey said angrily. "And I don't give a damn what she says. I know you were there. Pym told us as much in early interviews."
Gambit tsked. "You don't actually believe him? Taking the word of a criminal like him over that of three Ministry agents? I thought you were meant to charge him, not use him as a witness?"
Grey was grinding his teeth. "Three people broke into my base..."
"I'm extremely sorry to hear that," Steed said, wide-eyed. "But I'm afraid it had nothing to do with us. After all, Gambit and I are only two, and Purdey, as I'm sure you're aware, was still living with the locals at the time. You're certain it wasn't Pym or someone else looking for things to sell?"
"Liar!" Grey screamed, pounding the desk with his fist.
"Temper," Gambit said with the icy calmness Purdey had come to term in her own mind as 'the calm before the storm.'
"You haven't even begun to see what I'm capable of, Mr. Gambit. And as for you, Miss Bryde, I suppose you'll deny that you've seen your colleagues before today?"
"Well, of course not. I've seen them several times ever since we met in December, 1975," Purdey said flippantly. "But this is the first time since I left for Brazil, yes." Her eyes narrowed. "What I'd like to know is how you're going to explain sending me in as bait."
Grey crossed his arms. "Explain."
"Oh, don't be stupid. I'm not in the mood. You know very well that you sent me to Brazil because you knew Pym had a history with my father, and that if anything would draw him out and get you accolades, it was me. Gambit's already told me you admitted it."
"Has he?" Grey glared at Mike. "And what are you prepared to do about it?"
Purdey squared her shoulders and held out a hand. "Gambit?"
"Yes, of course." He opened the file and handed her the top page. She held it up for all to see.
"This is the confirmation of the arrest of one Jeremy Pym, currently in custody, made by me under the authority of MI12." She put in on the desk, palm on top.
Slap.
Gambit was handing her the forms one by one, and she held up each before setting it on top of the last. "This is the flight list that clearly states my real name, despite a forged passport, something you arranged to ensure Pym knew I was in Brazil."
Slap.
"And this is a formal complaint against you addressed to the directors of MI12. It includes accusations of misconduct, blackmail, and corruption, which have been endorsed by one Samantha Grieve and myself, pending a full inquiry."
Slap.
"And this," she said, leaning in close and holding up her right hand, thumb and forefinger almost touching, "is how close I am to breaking your back in three places. You used me, Julian Grey, and you used my father, and as I'm still on loan to MI12 until I turn in my report, I am allowed under section 3.5 of our code of conduct to charge you with unethical conduct for assigning an agent to a case in which there was a very clear conflict of interest, as well as not informing said agent of all aspects of the mission brief. I'd like to see your bosses sweep that under the carpet."
"MI12 won't survive this, Grey," Steed prophesized. "Pym's not a big enough prize to outweigh the scandal."
"And now that Purdey and Grieve have started things off, I'm going to bet that a lot of other agents are going to come out of the woodwork," Gambit added. "Blackmail only works for so long, Grey. Like I said, we've got to respect our own people if we're going to get anywhere. You've only got yourself to blame."
Purdey smiled triumphantly at her colleagues' words. Grey was seething now, eyes bulging in their sockets, fists clenched so tightly she could see the veins bulging up through the skin. "I'll...I'll..."
"You'll what?" she countered. "I did my job, and then some, just like my father. You should have done yours." She turned on her heel. "Good-bye, Mr. Grey," she said to the sputtering man, unable to keep the hint of triumph out of her voice. And then she gone. Out. Free. A final weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to dance a few steps as Steed and Gambit followed her through the outer office into the hall.
The instant they stepped into the corridor, they were greeted with applause. The trio started in surprise at the crowd of Ministry staff, agents and bureaucrats alike, celebrating the triumphant return of one of their own, complete with a few appreciative whistles from the more eligible male agents who had sorely missed their pretty young colleague. Purdey recovered quickly enough to execute a half-curtsy, before linking arms with her colleagues and cutting a swathe through the well-wishers.
Emma was waiting outside the Ministry for them to return. The building looked exactly the same, surprisingly enough, even a decade later, with the possible exception of a new coat of paint and different flower beds. Like Steed, though, the general structure was eternal, unmoved by time, just the right kind of conservative in an ever-changing world. Her gaze drifted from the building just in time to catch a figure ascending the steps. A young agent was eyeing her, obviously trying to sort out whether she was who he thought she was. She gave him a cheery wave and he nearly dropped his files. She watched him hurry up the steps, passing Steed, Purdey, and Gambit as he went. She rounded the car and moved to meet them. "Well?"
"Let's just say I don't think Grey's going to make the transfer when MI12 shuts down," Gambit said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Purdey played her part admirably," Steed added, and Purdey glowed at the compliments. Emma wasn't going to steal the show this time. Take that.
"Well, I never did meet him, but I'm afraid I'm not terribly sorry," Emma replied, not seeming to know or care that Purdey was inwardly gloating at being back in her usual spot as the Ministry's favourite lady agent. "Although I do owe him a reprieve from my desk. I did enjoy this assignment."
Steed perked up. "It could be repeated, if you're interested..."
Emma's lopsided smile made an appearance accompanied with a fondness in her eyes that Purdey recognised all too well. "Maybe," she allowed. "Although you'll have to get used to using 'Knight.' I'm not Mrs. Peel anymore."
"I think you'll be forever reminding me of that," Steed told her with a shake of his head.
"Well, I'll start at lunch, and see if I can solidify it during that dinner date on Wednesday. We can talk about my career then."
"I wouldn't miss it," Steed murmured, the same expression reflected in his own eyes.
"Success!" Gambit announced smugly. "My work here is done!"
Steed frowned at the comment. "I don't recall mentioning you at all."
"Sorry," Gambit murmured, biting back a grin.
"What are you going on about?" Purdey wanted to know, looking from one to the other in confusion.
"Nothing to worry about, Purdey-girl. I'm just bringing some joy into Steed's golden years."
"Oh, if you're going to be cryptic, never mind," she snapped, glancing at her watch. "Come on, we're going to be late for lunch."
"I can't argue with her stomach," Gambit said with a shrug. "See you later?"
"You will," Emma promised, and Purdey dragged him off before he could fall back under her spell.
"Not a moment too soon," she muttered when they were out of earshot. "I can't wait until we're three again. Four is definitely a crowd."
"And two's not a party," Gambit chimed in, as Purdey climbed into the XJS. "But I think we can manage on our own for a bit." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she couldn't help but laugh.
"Mike Gambit," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible, and I'm not sure I'd have it any other way."
"Just as well. I'm not due for a remodelling."
She patted his arm. "Good. If you don't mind, though, there's a stop I'd like to make."
***
Purdey stood in the graveyard, wind whipping through the freshly cut hair, flowers clutched in gloved hands. She was standing before a grave, eyes flicking back and forth as she read and reread the simple words that were forever etched in her memory:
"Here lies Jonathan Bryde
Beloved husband and father
His life was his own, until the end
August 14, 1918—March 6, 1966"
Purdey squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that if she started crying now she wouldn't stop for another half hour. When she could trust herself, she reopened them, crouched to place the flowers onto the grave before reaching out to trace the words with her fingertips.
"We got him, dad," she said softly. "He won't hurt us ever again. I made sure of that." She sighed. "You wouldn't have wanted me out for revenge, would you? I almost let you down." She smiled to herself. "But you'll be happy to know I have someone else looking out for me in your place. I only wish you could meet him and say thank you." She bit her lip as the tears threatened once more. "I think you would have liked one another."
A few tears spilled out of her eyes, and she wiped them away hurriedly, standing as she did so. "I just thought I'd let you know I'm all right," she told him, finally. "And that I saw the last place on earth you ever saw, and I think, finally, I understand why you did what you did."
From behind her came the sound of someone slightly clearing his throat, and Purdey whirled around in surprise. Gambit was standing there, hands stuffed in coat pockets to ward off the chill. He smiled slightly at her, as though unsure of how she'd react to his presence.
"Gambit," she said softly. "I thought you were going to wait in the car."
"I was," Gambit explained, moving to stand beside her. "But then I thought you'd spent enough time alone, thinking about him." He nodded at the tombstone. "He'd be proud of you. You know that?"
Purdey shook her head. "Maybe he wouldn't. You don't know. You never met him."
Gambit smiled, broader this time. "He would. I can feel it. Anyone who'd raise a daughter like you would be chuffed to know that you weren't afraid to follow in his footsteps."
"Sometimes I am," Purdey admitted. "Afraid. Of losing people. Again."
"That makes two of us," Gambit reminded. "Three if we count Steed. But at least we're not alone."
"No," Purdey agreed, tucking her hand into his elbow, echoing a gesture she'd made a year ago, in a different graveyard. "We're not. Someone comes. Always. And I'm glad for it."
"Don't forget that," Gambit told her. "Because I've made a habit of it."
"A good habit, for once," Purdey quipped, managing a small smile.
"Yeah," Gambit said after a moment. "Do you need some more time with him?"
"No," Purdey interrupted, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "No, I'm finished. I can move on now. Let's go." And they turned, arm-in-arm, to walk back down the path.
End
Author's Notes: And so it ends. I've left Emma's situation open a bit to sort of explain why no one seems terribly surprised when Steed phones her up in K is for Kill. Purdey looks jealous, but contacting her seems like a natural step to everyone, so this has been my own take on why that is.
Most of you are probably aware that I've already started another story, Lost Boys, set before the start of the series, which will probably keep me occupied for the next month or so. Because it's set pre-series, there's no Purdey in it, and between that and her absence in a large chunk of this fic, some of you may be missing her a little. To this I say, no fear! Stay tuned for the next story in the series, a strange, surreal adventure in which Purdey takes the lead. Hopefully I'll be able to start making it post-worthy soon.
The New Avengers will return!