In 26

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

The Lion and the Unicorn

Gambit let the cooling, cleansing water of the shower wash away the sweat of the day. It was bad enough being cooped up in the Unicorn's apartments with the owner's corpse still in residence. It was made worse by the fact that there were no clean clothes to be had. The plan had always been to hold the Unicorn just until he could be safely moved, a few hours at most. They weren't meant to stay overnight, and definitely not for several days. That meant they'd come unprepared—no suitcases, no toiletries, just the clothes on their backs. Gambit, for the life of him, couldn't work out why Steed wouldn't let one of their French counterparts fetch their suitcases from the hotel, or at least a change of clothes. Steed was under the impression that some sort of surveillance equipment could be secreted in them, and he was taking no chances that the Unicorn's death would be revealed. Gambit didn't think that reasoning held water. They'd let Purdey leave for provisions, after all, and she hadn't been kidnapped and questioned. And they hadn't found any listening devices in the baguettes or the eggs. If there were any, Purdey'd scrambled them in her omelette ages ago. But Steed's word was law, and Gambit knew he wasn't taking any more chances after the operation had gone so badly sideways once before. He didn't blame his boss, but that didn't make the idea of putting his sweat-soaked clothes back on after washing away the day's grime was any more appealing.

Gambit switched the shower off with reluctance. At least the Unicorn's facilities were well-maintained. If the three of them had had to keep close company without so much as a decent wash between them, the atmosphere was bound to get rather...gamey.

He pushed back the shower curtain and took the green towel from the rack, the one that Purdey had designated to him when they'd realised that they were going to be staying rather longer than intended. She'd taken it upon herself to organise the amenities and, quite literally, get their house in order for their extended stay. Hence the towel colour-coding system—the Unicorn had helpfully bought flannels in several different shades, which had saved his uninvited guests-cum-jailers-cum-undertakers guessing who had used what last. Purdey had called dibs on a particularly rich royal purple, and Steed had appropriated the yellow, which left Gambit with green. Given that was also the colour of the jacket and trousers he seemed to be doomed to spend the rest of his days in, it was somehow grimly appropriate.

Gambit wrapped the towel around his waist and turned, with a sigh, to the sink. There was something decidedly distasteful about using another man's toiletries, even when the owner wasn't lying dead in the next room. The scent of the man's shaving cream got up Gambit's nose, but given that all Purdey had managed to dredge up from the cupboards was a cutthroat straight-blade razor, the idea of shaving without it was unthinkable. So aside from using the man's personal possessions, Gambit seemed destined to smell like the enemy as well. It was as though the French spy was haunting him from beyond the grave.

This was all leaving aside the fact that Gambit was also sharing the razor with Steed. Gambit had forged a close friendship with the man in the course of their work, but that didn't mean he wanted the added intimacy of sharing a razor with him. There were some things that were a man's prerogative to not have to share, and his shaving equipment was one of them. Gambit picked up the razor, unfolded it with corners of the mouth tugging downward, and wondered if his hand slipped and he sliced his jugular open, it would be his subconsciousness' way of putting him out of his misery.

Fifteen minutes later, Gambit rinsed the shaving cream from his face and tried to blot the worst of the stink away with his towel. He ran his hands through his still-damp curls before turning to exit the bathroom. It was an ensuite, leading into the Unicorn's over-the-top bedchamber (complete with more merry-go-round horses—the man was obsessed). The bedroom was another part of Purdey's arrangements. It was the only one on the floor, and as Steed and Gambit were gentlemen, it had gone to Purdey by default, unless she was on Unicorn corpse-watch duty, in which case it went to Steed. Gambit had had quite enough of their dead friend without sleeping in his bed as well, and anyway, he'd gotten so used to dossing on the couch that he couldn't be bothered to move.

He stepped wearily into the bedroom, where he'd resigned himself to putting his old clothes back on, only to be met with the sight of Purdey, red tights in hand, examining her bare legs for bruises. She looked up in surprise and squeaked, whipping the sheet off the bed to cover herself, even though her shirt was long enough to serve as a minidress.

"What are you doing here?" Purdey exclaimed.

"I was having a shower!" Gambit shot back, hand flying to grab his towel in an iron grip. "What did you think that was, a localised rainstorm?"

"I didn't hear any water!" Purdey accused.

"I was shaving," Gambit justified. "Anyway, I only just came in. How was I to know you were in here?"

"You could have made a little more noise," Purdey snapped. "To let me know you were here. I didn't know where you'd gone. You could have been out on the roof for all I knew."

Gambit looked pointedly at where his well-worn clothes were spread across the bed. "Naked?"

"It is France," Purdey pointed out. "You could have gone sunbathing. They're very broadminded here."

"I'm not."

"No. You only strip off for artists you've only just met," Purdey said archly.

"Gambit? Oh." Steed bursting in elicited another shriek from Purdey, who dove further under the covers. "I do beg your pardon. Am I interrupting something?"

"I wish," Gambit said tiredly, feeling a headache coming on. "What's happened?"

"Commander Leparge paid us a visit while you were…indisposed," Steed informed, as Purdey busied herself with rearranging her sheet into a makeshift toga. "They've had as little luck getting anything out of our uncommunicative friend as we have."

"Well, that's spectacularly unwelcome news," Purdey grumbled, climbing onto the bed, toga and all, and trodding over bedding and Gambit's clothes with abandon. Gambit didn't bother to chastise her out of a sense of self-preservation. It hardly mattered, anyway. He'd sweltered away in the Paris summer heat for so many days in those garments that as far as he was concerned, Purdey's feet might actually tread some of the dirt out.

Purdey hopped off the other side of the bed and came to stand between them, tousled hair and bed-sheet costume making her look rather akin to a sullen child who refused to go to bed. "Is that all?"

Steed smiled his most disarming smile, but Purdey's glower burned away the charm on contact. "For the moment."

"Good," Purdey pronounced. "I'm going to have a shower. If I'm very lucky, I might drown in the process and free myself from our apparently endless confinement." She shot Gambit a warning look. "And you'd better not be here when I get out."

"Trust me, Purdey," Gambit assured wearily. "I'm not enjoying this much, either."

"Hmm," was Purdey's only reply, before she stalked inside the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Steed and Gambit stared at it for a moment until they heard the water start running.

"As we appear to be having an impromptu house meeting," Steed murmured, sotto voce, using the sound of the shower as cover, "I've a sneaking suspicion someone has been using my toothbrush."

Gambit frowned. "Which one is yours?"

"The green one."

Gambit blanched. "That's my toothbrush."

"Ah." Steed pondered that intelligence for a moment. "Well, that's one mystery solved. We can go back to focussing on the Unicorn."

From beyond the door came an ear-piercing shriek. "Mike Gambit, did you use all the hot water?!"

Gambit really did have a headache now. "You can keep the toothbrush," he told Steed. "If Purdey has her way, I don't think I'm going to live much longer."