section7mfu | Picfic Tuesday March 4, 2014: Walking in Another's Shoes

“You know, when I said there is nothing about Paris I don’t like, I didn’t think you would take that as a challenge, Partner Mine. You win; I don’t like the sewer system!”

“Stop your complaining for once in your life, Napoleon, and count your lucky stars that we were able to get down that manhole before those THRUSH goons came around the corner! The KGB thought it was good for its agents to know how to get down here, so I know my way around. We will be able to exit safely in about twenty minutes,” Illya growled in annoyance as he turned and began to slosh through the sewage without looking back.

Napoleon bit back his response and began to follow his partner. It was fairly dark in the sewer; only shards of light every few yards from the small holes of manholes above gave any type of illumination. If he lost sight of Illya, he would have been hopelessly lost. He shuddered at that thought as he tried not to think about what he was walking in and through. He was mouth breathing to cut down on the effect of the putrid smells that permeated the air. While he was squelching through in a darkened section, his left foot hit something which caused him to pitch forward onto his hands and knees.

“Ugggh!” he spat out as his hands hit the water and then the floor where something underneath his hands squished through his fingers. He sucked in air through his nose and retched violently from the smell and feel of feces that was all around him. Immediately, Illya was back helping him to his feet.

“Come on, it is not much farther,” the Russian said as he began leading the way again.

“When we get back to UNCLE Paris, I’m going to boil myself and burn everything I’m wearing.”

“And it still will not come to as much as some of your other reimbursement requests,” Illya snorted. When they walked about five minutes more, the blond pointed to light gleaming from around a turn in the pipe. “Look,” he said as they rounded the turn, “that gate opens up to the Seine at a spot that is fairly secluded. We should be able to get out unobserved.”

“Do you know where we left the car in relation to where we are?”

“It is five blocks away.”

Ten minutes later found the men scrambling up the bank of the river Seine. They had no choice but to walk back to the car. Illya stared straight ahead and ignored how people stared and shied away from them as they walked by. Napoleon also appeared to ignore the reactions they were getting, but he felt his face heat with embarrassment and when they arrived at the car, he slunk into the passenger side and lowered his head.

Fortunately, they were able to shower and change once they returned to headquarters. After they gave their verbal reports to Mr. Waverly via their communicators, they borrowed an office so that they could write the report. Illya had noticed that Napoleon had been unusually quiet ever since they had exited the Parisian sewer system and knew something was bothering him.

“Napoleon, tell me what is wrong.”

The brunet rubbed his faced and looked at his partner “I know it was beyond my control, but I felt embarrassed to be seen looking and smelling that way. The way people reacted to us; it was horrible. They either openly gawked or acted like we were invisible.”

The Russian smiled and stated, “But now you are back to your usual sartorial splendor and you are still unhappy.”

“Because I’m ashamed of my own past behavior when I’ve seen dirty people on the street. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind, I was blaming them for their own condition. I wanted to explain to anyone who would listen that I don’t normally look like that and I don’t like looking like that and since I couldn’t, I just had to put up with the stares and avoidance. I’m not saying that I’m going to start hugging the homeless, but I’m going to try not to judge so harshly.”

Illya placed a sheet of paper into the typewriter to start preparing their report. “I am proud of you, Napoleon. It would seem your time in the sewers taught you a valuable lesson.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Tovarisch. If you lead me down into a sewer again, you’ll have to carry me.”

“Just write your half of the report.”