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applecameronA preparatory note on how "The Avengers" managed changes in the cast.
Mrs. Cathy Gale: Steed's first female "assistant". Comparing Mrs. Gale and Mrs. Peel, I think Mrs. Gale was actually the more independent and true-equal of the pair. She has a real moral voice of her own.
After nearly dying in "Lobster Quadrille", she leaves on vacation and we see neither hide nor hair of her again. Cute bit of dialogue on her 'pussyfooting' around the sands of wherever, as she was, in real life, leaving the show to go be Pussy Galore in the Bond film, Goldfinger.
Mrs. Emma Peel: The pairing that put the show on the map. Glossier, more stylish episodes, both in look and characterization.
I haven't seen the episode where she leaves, but apparently, her dead husband turns up alive somewhere and she goes off to be with him.
The other "assistants" I don't know about, I never saw the show on TV and only have a bunch of eps on DVD, but a cool Avengers site is http://www.avengers.tv/forever, and particularly, http://theavengers.tv/forever/profile.htm, as an overview/intro to the show.
And now, a fic that's probably shorter than the above discussion.
Spoilers for "Lobster Quadrille". Episode follow-up.
She hurt, in every possible way. Her injuries were not only on the outside.
Steed was impenetrable, although normally, so was she.
His hand, light on her elbow, guiding her out to the car. She smelled like smoke, and human flesh.
Time passed in a sharp slice, and then she was seated.
The motor was running. "Let's get you looked at, shall we?"
"I'm fine, Steed." She lied.
His hand moved, but didn't touch hers in her lap.
"Well, it will only take a moment, then, my dear."
Slice.
Doctor.
Slice.
Steed's hand at her elbow again, and her own front door.
Slice.
Tears trickling down the sides of her face, at night, soundlessly, as she memorized the ceiling. Not sobbing. Never sobbing.
Slice.
She couldn't avoid Steed, he had a knack for turning up around tea-time, but it was easy to plead her aches and pains to beg off from other engagements, for a short while.
But not forever. She began to think of the sun, and the sand, of hot winds.
Steed gave her the idea, one afternoon, when she was bustling about, struggling one-handed with the tea tray, and irritated that it seemed impossible to not drop crumbs into the sling her left arm still rested in. He said she looked pale.
Perhaps, a vacation was in order. Someplace hot. Someplace new.
Yes. She liked that idea.
And so. She would lie on the beach and think of nothing, for as long as she could, until the stench of roasted flesh was gone from her nostrils forever.
***
From the Bahamas to another set of sun-drenched sands, a more dangerous set.
Steed would never pursue her. He had far too much regard for her independence. Not to mention the elephant gun.
Cathy went home to Africa, deep into the desert.
It was easier, in the end, to never come back.
Mrs. Cathy Gale: Steed's first female "assistant". Comparing Mrs. Gale and Mrs. Peel, I think Mrs. Gale was actually the more independent and true-equal of the pair. She has a real moral voice of her own.
After nearly dying in "Lobster Quadrille", she leaves on vacation and we see neither hide nor hair of her again. Cute bit of dialogue on her 'pussyfooting' around the sands of wherever, as she was, in real life, leaving the show to go be Pussy Galore in the Bond film, Goldfinger.
Mrs. Emma Peel: The pairing that put the show on the map. Glossier, more stylish episodes, both in look and characterization.
I haven't seen the episode where she leaves, but apparently, her dead husband turns up alive somewhere and she goes off to be with him.
The other "assistants" I don't know about, I never saw the show on TV and only have a bunch of eps on DVD, but a cool Avengers site is http://www.avengers.tv/forever, and particularly, http://theavengers.tv/forever/profile.htm, as an overview/intro to the show.
And now, a fic that's probably shorter than the above discussion.
Spoilers for "Lobster Quadrille". Episode follow-up.
She hurt, in every possible way. Her injuries were not only on the outside.
Steed was impenetrable, although normally, so was she.
His hand, light on her elbow, guiding her out to the car. She smelled like smoke, and human flesh.
Time passed in a sharp slice, and then she was seated.
The motor was running. "Let's get you looked at, shall we?"
"I'm fine, Steed." She lied.
His hand moved, but didn't touch hers in her lap.
"Well, it will only take a moment, then, my dear."
Slice.
Doctor.
Slice.
Steed's hand at her elbow again, and her own front door.
Slice.
Tears trickling down the sides of her face, at night, soundlessly, as she memorized the ceiling. Not sobbing. Never sobbing.
Slice.
She couldn't avoid Steed, he had a knack for turning up around tea-time, but it was easy to plead her aches and pains to beg off from other engagements, for a short while.
But not forever. She began to think of the sun, and the sand, of hot winds.
Steed gave her the idea, one afternoon, when she was bustling about, struggling one-handed with the tea tray, and irritated that it seemed impossible to not drop crumbs into the sling her left arm still rested in. He said she looked pale.
Perhaps, a vacation was in order. Someplace hot. Someplace new.
Yes. She liked that idea.
And so. She would lie on the beach and think of nothing, for as long as she could, until the stench of roasted flesh was gone from her nostrils forever.
***
From the Bahamas to another set of sun-drenched sands, a more dangerous set.
Steed would never pursue her. He had far too much regard for her independence. Not to mention the elephant gun.
Cathy went home to Africa, deep into the desert.
It was easier, in the end, to never come back.