Life on Mars

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

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, John Steed, and Larry Doomer. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended

Timeline: Seventh in a series. Takes place in July, 1977, immediately after the events of the episode "Obsession." It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Lost Boys, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, and Brazil.

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

Author's Note: For Purdey, everything's finally come together in her mind. At least, she thinks it has. If only other things wouldn't keep popping into her head and muddying the waters. And then there's a little matter of a bomb...

Steed drove the three of them to the docks, but parked a block away from where the ship had actually made berth. He turned to look at Gambit and Purdey, both ensconced in the back seat. Purdey had protested, but Gambit had insisted that he join her after her outburst. Purdey was secretly happy he had—she was feeling more than a little shaky. Gambit’s words were starting to sink in. What if this was real? What if she had imagined everything—the Ministry, Steed, Gambit, Larry’s death? What did that mean? What would she do now? But no, she couldn’t think about that now. What was important was stopping Larry. She focused on Steed instead.

“I’m going in alone,” Steed told them. “If I explain who you two are at the door, there’s a chance too many people will hear and they’ll raise the alarm, and we’ve agreed Doomer shouldn’t know we’re onto him.”

“How are we going to get on, then?” Purdey wanted to know.

“I’m going to inform those in charge of the situation, and I’ll have them let an emergency ladder over the railing of the lowest observation deck. You two will have to commandeer a boat and wait for me. I’ll tell you the plan of attack once you’re onboard.”

“Right,” Gambit said with a curt nod. “How much time before we head out?”

“Ten minutes, no more,” Steed assured, opening the car door. “I’ll see you then.”

Purdey nodded, and watched Steed’s aristocratic frame depart. Gambit turned to her in his seat.

“You okay?” he asked with concern.

“No,” Purdey admitted. “But I’ll be even less okay if I don’t help you stop Larry. I have to do this. Please don’t try to stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gambit said reassuringly, leaning forward between the front seats and popping open the glove box. “But all the same I think you should have this.” He extracted a small revolver from the box, handed it back to her. “I’d ask if you know how to use it, but I think we’ve already established that.”

Purdey smiled in spite of herself, taking the gun and tucking it into her waistband. “You’re not worried about giving the madwoman a firearm?”

“I’m not worried about giving you a firearm,” Gambit corrected with a wink, opening the car door. “Shall we commandeer, Purdey?”

Purdey’s smile broadened. “Let’s.”

It didn’t take long to find a little row boat. The owner wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of his boat being taken out by a young couple with only Gambit’s watch as collateral, but Purdey fluttered her eyelashes impressively, and he buckled fairly quickly. Soon they were on the water, Gambit rowing while Purdey let her gaze wander over their surroundings, at the railings where tourists were leaning out over the Thames. She frowned as a wave of déjà vu washed over her. She remembered this place. “I’ve been here before,” she whispered.

Gambit looked up from his rowing, frowned. “What?”

“Steed’s party,” Purdey went on, not paying him any heed. “He had it on a boat. It was docked here.” Boat. Purdey saw a flash of blinding light, heard the roar of machines. Her eyes were open but unseeing, and her mind conjured up confused images. And the words came on their own. “On New Year’s Eve,” she breathed, as though in a daze, and went to Gambit, who was looking a bit worried.

“Purdey…? Can you hear me?”

Two images, two voices, both fighting for dominance in her brain. Could she see her Gambit leaning over her, lying on a bench, with an awe-filled look in his eyes. Or was his brow creased with worry bent over her prone frame as she lay in a hospital bed?

Or was he here, gaze fixed on her from his seat at the opposite end of the boat?

“That was the first time we….” she whispered, and reached out without looking, put a hand on his chest. Whichever one she touched, he felt so solid, so real. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fought to regain control of her mind. There was something there, something she wanted to hang on to. “We…It was important,” she managed through gritted teeth. “So important. I can’t bear to think that I’ve lost you.”

Gambit shook his head. “What? Purdey, you haven’t lost me. I’ve been right here. The whole time.” His mouth quirked up a bit, and he switched to an Irish accent. “Lolita. Or should I call you Lo?”

She blanched. Her eyes snapped open. He couldn’t know. Not about Terry Walton. Could he? No, she’d made that assignment up. Or, if it happened, it hadn’t happened here. And yet… “What did you say?” she asked the man in the boat. She was quivering.

He frowned in incomprehension. “I said shouldn’t we go? The ladder’s down.”

“Is it?” He didn’t seem to have any idea what she was talking about. The in-joke she had been so certain of had passed. She felt her heart sink in disappointment as she glanced around her.

Sure enough, the ladder was there, as promised, and Gambit let Purdey climb up first. Steed was waiting at the top, casting the occasional furtive glance over his shoulder. “Right,” he began, as Gambit climbed over the side. “The Emir’s locked down in the captain’s cabin, but that won’t do him much good if the whole boat goes up. If we try to move him Doomer might panic and set it off early, so it’s essential we find him as soon as possible. We already have a search going on, but we can use every pair of hands we can get, and if you can talk him out of this, Mrs. Doomer, it would be greatly appreciated. I’m going to give you a radio so we can get in touch if you or someone else finds him.” He handed Purdey a standard police radio. “If you see Doomer, or find the bomb, let us know immediately. Do not attempt to handle this on your own. I’m already going against my better judgment by letting you be involved at this stage. Do you understand? Call for back-up, keep an eye on him, but do not engage. I want Commander Gambit to accompany you, just in case.”

Purdey arched an eyebrow. “For my security, or the Emir’s?”

“Both,” Steed replied grimly. “I have all the liabilities I can handle at the moment.”

Purdey nodded curtly. “I understand.”

“He’s giving a speech in half an hour,” Gambit reminded. “If we delay much longer than that, Doomer will know something’s wrong.”

“I know. We haven’t much time,” Steed agreed, checking his watch. “Don’t make me sorry I trusted you, Mrs. Doomer.”

Purdey smiled lopsidedly. “I won’t,” she assured. “Come on, Commander.”

“Right. We’ll be in touch,” Gambit promised, moving off in the opposite direction with Purdey. She didn’t get far before Gambit caught her arm, looked her in the eye with a sincerity that almost broke her heart.

“Whatever happens here, be careful,” he almost pleaded. “I don’t think I could see…it…happen again.” She could see fear there, the same fear she had seen in his eyes when he’d told her about how Carrie had died.

“I will,” she promised, and leaned forward, kissed him impulsively. “Just promise me you’ll do the same.”

He nodded dazedly, released her. They turned and set off down the corridor.

The ship was huge, and their search wasn’t made any easier when every loud noise made them jump nervously. She worked her way up the decks, ever-conscious of the deadline. Very dead. How many people on this boat? How many would die? Fewer than in the Houses of Parliament, but still.

Purdey tried to shake that thought out of her head. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. She glanced around, realized that she had wandered down the corridor ahead of Gambit, who was busy checking one of the dozens of cabins onboard. “Anything?” she asked.

“No,” came the frustrated reply, as Gambit closed the door again, and moved to join her. “And we’re running out of places to look.” He passed a hand over his brow. “If we don’t find that bomb…”

“We will,” Purdey said quickly. “We have to.” She looked around, spotted a very unassuming little door, the word “supply” printed across it in plain block letters. “Look, we haven’t tried in here.”

“Supply cupboard,” Gambit muttered. “Possible.” He tried the knob, arched an eyebrow. “And it’s locked. Top secret chemicals?”

“Classified mops,” Purdey quipped. “We’d better look inside, don’t you think? I can pick the lock.”

“No time. Let’s use the quick method.” Gambit tugged the gun out of her waistband, where she’d stashed it, and shot the lock before Purdey could protest. “I don’t know if your Gambit ever did that,” he muttered, “but it works.”

“He had a habit of kicking doors down, actually,” Purdey said dazedly, still a little surprised that Gambit would be forward enough to reach into the waist of her trousers. His trousers, she reminded herself. She wasn’t exactly one to lecture about being forward. She’d cinched them in tight with a belt, but they were still a little loose. Gambit was on a deadline. She’d wanted a reason to get closer to him, however strange. She cleared her throat. “Well, let’s see what you’ve found.” She gave the door a gentle prod, eased it open, Gambit close behind her. The room was dark, and Purdey couldn’t find the light switch. She started poking around the darkened shelves, heard Gambit clanking in the corner. After a moment, he went very quiet.

“Purdey…” The voice was calm and steady, but it sounded strange nonetheless.

Purdey heard the worried note in Gambit’s voice, wheeled around to find him looking down at a bucket stashed under a shelf. She took a tentative step forward, ears pricked. In the bucket, something was ticking. Softly. Gambit’s eyes rose to meet hers in the dark of the closet. They asked the question. The Question.

“Do you know how to…?” he began, nostrils flaring violently.

“No,” Purdey said quickly. “I mean, I thought I did. But in this world, this life, the way things have been going, I can’t risk defusing a bomb.” She nodded at him. “That’s why we have the radio.”

Gambit unclipped it from his belt, handed her the gun while he tried to key in. It crackled with static. He cursed. “No reception,” he muttered. “I’ll go out in the hall. Don’t let anyone else near that thing.”

“Right,” Purdey nodded, watching the bomb nervously. There was still a good ten minutes left on the timer, but that still wasn’t terribly comforting. She peeked out of the closet to see how Gambit was making out.

He wasn’t in the immediate corridor, and she found herself feeling worried. Where was he? Torn between Gambit and the bomb, she ventured out into the corridor, searching for him, tucking the gun back into her waistband as she went. She looked up the hall, spotted his silhouette leaning against the railing of ship, overlooking the sea. He had gone out onto the deck in his search for a signal. She was just about to call out to Gambit when she spotted him. Larry, stepping out on to the deck from the right, creeping around the corner. She ducked back into the closet when he turned her way, waited for his footsteps to turn and start moving in the opposite direction before risking a look. She could see him framed through the corridor, advancing on Gambit. He hadn’t heard him, too busy talking on the radio to know he was in danger. She looked down at the gun in her waistband, realized Mike was unarmed. Larry raised the gun to fire.

Purdey didn’t wait, didn’t think, didn’t even remember starting her sprint. All she knew was that she was running. Larry spun at the sound of her footsteps, but didn’t have a chance to react before they were suddenly face to face, struggling with the weapon as Gambit spun in surprise, dropping the radio in the process.

“Leave me, Purdey!” Larry snarled, thrashing around, trying to shake her off. The words echoed those she remembered him saying in 1970, in her other life, and the memories came flooding back, blinding her. She could feel the slap against her cheek, the cold brick of the wall she’d fallen against, and the warm tears sliding down her cheeks. It seemed so vivid, so real, too real to be fiction. She couldn’t have made it all up. Could she?

Doomer must have noticed her distraction, because he shook free from her grasp, and punched her hard across the jaw. Purdey went flying, her gun coming loose from her waistband and clattering onto the deck as she took the full impact of her fall on her shoulder, felt the sharp stab of pain as it made contact with the deck, heard Gambit’s voice cry out her name.

Larry recovered in time to point the gun at Gambit before he could move toward them. “Back up,” he barked at the Commander, but Gambit’s face was etched with concern, not for his own safety, but for the limp figure sprawled untidily on the ground. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, cradle in his arms as he had Carrie, and try to keep her from leaving the world behind much too soon. But getting himself shot wouldn’t help Purdey. So he complied, backing up as Larry instructed, the other man following him until Gambit felt the railing dig into his spine.

Meanwhile, Purdey lay on the deck dazedly. Larry’s punch had made the world spin. She could see Larry’s feet moving steadily away, and then her gaze drifted to the deck railing, and Gambit backed up against it, eyeing Larry warily with that expression of intense concentration she’d come to know so well in that other life, the one that wasn’t real, even though she remembered the--

Boat.

Railing. Boat. Mike…

Falling.

The images flashed past her mind’s eye again, the same ones that had been haunting her ever since she had regained consciousness in the hospital. She struggled to make sense of them. Lights, different colours, exploded before her eyes. Where were they coming from?

The sky. For the first time, lights illuminated the scene. She was looking up at the sky. No, not only the sky—his face, with the sky in the background.

Falling again. No, she was leaning back, lying back, reclining.

Purdey…A voice said her name, but quietly, tenderly. She felt herself relax. She felt so safe here, so secure, with him. But there was someone else here, far away, a silhouette. And with it, light. Noise.

Gambit! Purdey!

There was a flurry of motion, and she was falling again.

The warmth was gone.

There was a bang.

Gone.

No…

Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the hole appear in Gambit’s side. She watched, helpless, as he crumpled to the deck…

…Deck.

Purdey could see the gun, lying a mere foot away. She reached for it, her hand moving with agonising slowness. It was so hard to concentrate. The images still flashed before her eyes, superimposing themselves over the scene, as though projected there with a movie camera. She wanted to see better, but she also wanted to help Gambit. No. She needed to help him. Despite her desire to cling to the fading images, she blinked them away, shook her head, and started the painfully slow process of climbing to her feet. The Boat. She remembered it all now. Or at least, what she thought she remembered. If it was real she had to get back, to tell him she remembered the boat. If it wasn’t….well, it didn’t matter. She still needed to stop Larry. She still needed to save Gambit. She raised the gun. Gambit and Larry were eyeing each other. Gambit had managed to pull himself upright, clutching the railing with one hand, and pressing the other against his injured side.

Larry was lining up another shot.

“Larry!”

He turned at her shout, never lowering the gun, eyes burning with hatred.

“Larry, don’t,” Purdey pleaded. “It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” Larry screamed back. “The Emir killed my father!”

Purdey shook her head. “No. You don’t know that. And even if he did, that doesn’t make this right. Do you know how many people will die on this ship because of you? If that bomb goes off I’ll die. You’ll die!”

“I don’t care,” Larry shot back. “I lost my father, and I’ve lost you. There isn’t anything left to live for.”

“There’s always something to live for,” Purdey yelled back. “Larry, please. Someone will come soon. They’ll kill you and stop the bomb. There’s no point in killing Gambit. If you spare him, that might reflect well on you.”

“I don’t have to take orders from you,” he snarled. “You traitor. You’ve been working with them all along, haven’t you? Is that why you married me? Because I was seen as a threat? Because you sure as hell weren’t there to give me a baby.”

Purdey swallowed, tried to shake free the feeling of déjà vu and the implications of Larry’s words. Her finger shook on the trigger. She had a choice. Again. And she still didn’t relish the opportunity of making it. “I don’t want to shoot you, Larry.” It was the truth. She hated to admit it, but it was. She couldn’t deny who he’d been, what role he’d played in her life.

He laughed bitterly. “As if you could. You may talk tough, but in the end you can’t break my back in three places. You’re just an addled, unfaithful wife. How did he reel you in, anyway? Did he tell you about his wife? I must admit I was surprised at the resemblance. Nice little fantasy for the pair of you, I’m sure. A whole other life.” He shook his head. “You should have stuck with the dancing, darling.”

Purdey felt a tear slide down her cheek. “I tried. Heaven knows I tried. It wasn’t for me.”

But Larry wasn’t listening anymore. He was looking at Gambit. The Commander was fading fast, blood seeping through his fingers.

“And as for you,” Larry spat at the dying man, “you’ve been nothing but an annoyance. You’ve cost me my marriage. Now you pay.”

Purdey could feel the tears in her eyes. “Larry, please. If you ever loved me, don’t do this.”

Grass. Field. Tears were blinding her, but she could hear the voice, his voice, and Gambit was beside her, looking like his old self.

“What if it had been me, Purdey? What would you have done?”

He had made the sacrifice. Larry wouldn’t.

“Mike…” she whispered. Why did I expect you to keep coming back when I’m always pushing you away? She felt more tears. “Mike,” she screamed at him. “I’m sorry.”

Against all odds, he winked at her. “It’s been worth it,” he gasped, and Purdey realized she’d said it out loud, to him, when she’d meant it for that other spectre, now so far away. She turned to look for the other incarnation, her Gambit, the one from the field, but he was nowhere to be found.

Purdey looked back just in time to see Larry raise the gun.

“No!”

There was a shot. A man fell.