ALTERNATE ENDING:

By ElementsOfSapphire

DISCLAIMER/Please Note: This/these stories are all purely for fan-fun purposes only; no copyright infringement intended. I own none of the rights relating to either The Avengers, nor The New Avengers; none of the characters, sets, the lot. I'm awfully sorry if posting such stories relating to the show is not allowed or is unwanted. In which case, please accept my every apology and inform me so I can take them down. Once again, I'm just a teen fan that wants to get their work shown and evaluated, so please tell me if its is wished for my story/stories to be taken down- or even my entire username. Thank you :)

"...Happy Birthday to you," the crowd finished their tune as a rather rosy-red Mike blew out the candles. Five or six figures surrounded him, each cheering merrily in the confinements of his flat as he opened his eyes again after making a wish. Steed was there, as was Kendrick. McKay had arrived late with Sandra and Phil, Mike's friend from the old days, who had apologised profusely for being only two minutes late. He smiled at them all, offering the knife to Steed so he could cut everyone a slice of cake. Having received his own, he wandered away from the kitchen and to the sofa bed, besides which rested a small photo of him and that one missing person. John watched as Gambit walked away, keeping his smile fixed but knowing inside that Mike would much sooner go back to his smaller, lonelier party of the previous year. It may have just been him and her, but at least she was there.

It was a nice birthday party, but with her missing, it could never be the best.

"Do you often stare at that photo. If so, should I be worried?" came a voice from just behind him. A ghost of a smile slowly began to creep on to his lips as he turned to reply, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"You're late, aren't you?" he said with a smirk, watching the woman as she took a seat next to him.

"You should be thankful I came at all... Mother sends her wishes"

Mike had forgotten that, where Purdey had been and why she was late. He couldn't have felt more evil but Purdey didn't seem to be annoyed with his lapse in memory at all. If anything, she was still smiling as brightly as when he first turned around. "How is she doing?" he wanted to know, sounding as concerned as he felt inside.

"She's getting there. It's why I came today. She's making good progress now; it has been a year."

"And your neck, how's the um... you know." Mike pointed to his own neck as though to show Purdey where he meant. He needn't have bothered, she knew what he was talking about. How could she forget? It was there forever now.

"The scar? It's getting better. Give me your hand," she said sweetly. She took one of Gambit's hands in her own, pressing it lightly on the raised skin. His finger ran along the scar, the larger spot where the needle had gone in and then down the trail where Trisha had dragged it along. Inside he felt sick, mad at the woman for hurting Purdey like this, for leaving a scar on her otherwise perfect skin. Purdey had removed her hand some time ago, but Mike remained transfixed, his thoughts running wild and his finger continuously tracing the mark. Eventually he snapped out of it, looking up and meeting her eyes with his own. He removed his hand, covering the scar back up with a lock of her growing hair, patting it kindly. "Are those... marshmallows?" she inquired to break the silence, her eye sight falling to his uneaten slice of birthday cake.

"Of course; I asked for them especially. I told them 'She won't eat the cake if they're not on there'."

"Thank you, Mike. It's good cake," she replied between bites. He hadn't noticed her take the plate, nor did he mind. He just watched in amusement at how easily pleased this woman could be with just a handful of marshmallow. Remarkable, he thought to himself.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Happy Birthday!" Purdey leant behind the sofa and pulled out a large, wrapped box. Mike studied it carefully, considering whether to open it or not. Where Purdey was concerned, one could never be sure if it was genuine or some sort of hidden practical joke. After a lot of urging on Purdey's behalf, he decided to open the gift, pulling at the satin bow to reveal a certain game he was fond of. A certain board game that they were both fond of.

Yet, no matter how happy he was with the gift, one thing could not go unnoticed...

"Purdey... It's -"

"Open? I know. I thought, seeing as I'll be the only one who ever plays it with you, I might as well make it a bit more fun. You'll find that all the 'M's and 'P's are missing, just to make it a bit harder..."

"How will we spell our names now?" he quipped, noticing the significance of the letters she'd chosen to remove.

"And I forgot to give you the other part last year, so um... Happy Belated Birthday, too." Purdey grinned whilst Mike's brain ran back 365 days. He hadn't forgotten that she'd only delivered half of her present the previous year. He just didn't want to appear unthankful. He leant forward pouting, expecting the second half of the gift to be similar to the first, but was left quite perplexed when a small sheet of paper was pushed into his hand. He looked down to consult the sheet, unfolding it quickly to read its contents.

I OWE PURDEY TEN DINNERS OUT

"I thought," he began, still studying the sheet, "that the idea was for you to give me something."

"I am. It's a receipt for your debt," Purdey responded, pecking his cheek before taking another bite from her newly discovered favourite cake.

He watched her for a while, waiting for the woman to finish her cake. She amused him quite a bit. Sure, she was strong and she liked people to know that, but she could always be quite sweet... quite, quaint.

"I might have birthdays more often," Mike said with a smile, using a napkin to help wipe the cake debris from her chin. Purdey simply sighed at the act, shaking her head but reminding herself that it was his birthday, and that she should let him have his way. Even if it was only the one, sweet gesture. "Are you taken for dinner this evening?"

"Your treat?" she inquired, indicating the paper in his hand.

"My treat," he confirmed. He saw as her face glanced in the direction of the party food. It was Steed's idea of picky bits, so it was mainly canapés and mini desserts. Purdey was a traditionalist as far as birthday foods were concerned. Jelly and ice cream, blancmange and sausage rolls. "My treat," Mike repeated, taking a large bag of marshmallows from his sofa-bed side drawer. Purdey watched the bag like a frog to a fly, never letting it out of her sight. The pair turned away from the party, keeping the marshmallows well hidden, and through a fit of giggles, finished the whole bag off.

Now it's a birthday party, Mike thought with a smile.

THE END

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