Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 1

(Rating: K+)

By R.J. Harrington,

The end of hospital visiting hours found Remington Steele sitting at the crux of the wall and floor, his knees pulled to his chest and head resting on folded arms. He'd given up on sleep, alternating one uncomfortable position for the next. He was sure the floor nurse would ask him to leave, to go home and get some sleep, but he wasn't going anywhere. This was his fault and damned if he wasn't going to stay with Laura until there wasn't a reason to.

Laura was unsure about this case from the beginning, and now it was Friday and they'd been working the crooked business owner for a week. Undercover tasks offered unexpected perils that made it impossible to fully prepare for any contingency, and this case was the worst.

A partner in a law firm asked Remington Steele Investigations to find out what shady enterprise his cohort was involved in that would lead to more than $2 million going missing in the last six months. Laura was working as an office assistant, and after four days, she still hadn't seen the man they were investigating much less gathered any substantial information to satisfy their client. She needed to talk to Remington.

During a break, she found a payphone in the lobby.

"I don't know, Remington. I've checked files in all of the offices and there's nothing suspicious that I can see. I'm beginning to think this Mr. Callahan doesn't exist."

"You would know my dear."

"I'm serious. Something is going on and I think we should back out of this one."

"Quit a case? Laura, I'm shocked. I never thought I'd hear such blasphemy."

"Can you drop the petulant child routine?"

"Consider it dropped. … I'm all ears."

Laura began to rattle off her theories. She was certain Mr. Callahan was simply a front for another partner in the firm, potentially their client, but she wasn't sure why. During the investigation, she'd found more on their client and other partners than the suspect himself.

There were connections to a surreptitious oil magnet with ties to illegal trading and upper crust junk bonds. They'd run afoul of him before and his nasty reputation for rubbing out competitors. She went on and on, looking around to make sure no one was listening. She'd become paranoid, uncharacteristically, and her voice started to shake.

"Laura, you're beginning to worry me."

"Join the party."

"But, we can't drop the case."

"What? Aren't you the one begging me to work less, play more? To be more cautious? Reminding me that cases like this aren't worth the danger now that we're parents?"

"Uh, yes, well that does sound like me, but Rollins called today and said he would double our fee if we could find something, anything, on Callahan."

"Of course. You and your fees." Laura leaned her head against the edge of the payphone casing. "OK. I'll give it until the end of the weekend and then we're done. No fees. No client. Deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain Mrs. Steele. See you tonight."

Remington checked his watch, scrunching his face in concern. She was late, a whole hour late. She was supposed to meet him at the office and then leave for dinner. Laura never missed a date night, especially when she knew it would be just them. Their son, Daniel, was visiting cousins and Laura's sister for the weekend, leaving them alone to enjoy their short-lived freedom, including making love all night for the first time in months.

He rubbed his forehead and picked up the office phone. Something was wrong, and he needed help. He remembered Detective Jarvis owned him a favor for finding one of the city's most wanted, and Remington intended to call it in.

He began to dial when two uniforms appeared at his office door.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Remington Steele?"

"Yes." He stood and walked around to the front of the desk.

"We need you to come with us sir. Your wife has been involved in an accident. She's on her way to Cedars-Sinai."

Remington fell against the edge of the desk, hanging on to anything he could. Images flashed in random order – their life, her clothes, her smile, her hair, her family, and their son. Remington couldn't bring himself to ask the one question he wanted answered. He simply leaned awkwardly against the desk, trying to keep from falling on the floor. After what seemed like minutes, he broke his vacant stare and looked at the officers.

They must have understood his silent need or maybe they were just seasoned pros with traumatized families because they offered an answer.

"Mr. Steele? Please sir, she's not doing well. We really need you to come with us, so we can get you to the ER as quickly as possible. Detective's orders."

Remington staggered to grab his wallet and keys before backing out of Remington Steele Investigations. After twisting the lock at the bottom of the door, he stood and stared at the silver lettering of the suite. He imagined Laura breezing through the door arguing with him about something, anything. If he wasn't in shock, he would've smiled.

"OK, let's go."

Remington watched the light from the sixth floor window slide dim as the evening set in. A trauma specialist stood at the door explaining Laura's condition, what needed to be done, her chances of survival. Remington wasn't listening.

"Mr. Steele, did you hear me?"

"Huh, yes, thank you doctor." He never looked up.

The physician turned to the floor nurse as she left the room, "I'm not sure he caught a word I said, so please go over it with him when he's ready. I need him to talk to her. At least get him to talk to you."

"Right."

Margaret Russell had worked as a trauma nurse for 20 years, much longer than most. But, here is where she had the greatest impact, during moments like these, when someone needed faith.

"Hi, Mr. Steele? I'm Margaret Russell. I'll be with you and Mrs. Steele tonight." Remington stared out the window.

"Is there anything you need?" Still silence.

Margaret slid into the chair next to him and touched his arm. "Mr. Steele, I know this is difficult, but we need to talk to her. Why don't you tell me how you met?"

Remington finally lifted his head to look at her; his face stained with dried tears, and began to laugh. Not a little giggle, but a full force belly laugh.

"Miss Russell…"

"Margaret, call me Margaret."

"Margaret, that's a story no one would believe, I'm afraid."

At least she had him talking. She smiled, hoping he would go on.

Remington knew he couldn't tell the truth, ever, but maybe he could tell her something. It was better than the alternative.

"I saw her for the first time through binoculars and I forgot why I was there." He stood and turned toward the window, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Did she see you?"

"Huh, no," he said with a grin. "We weren't formally introduced until the next day." He returned to his seat, scooting it closer to Laura's bed. The beeping of the monitors threatened his undoing.

"So what did she think?"

"About me?" He laughed again. "Who knows, Margaret, but I think I made an unforgettable impression."

Now, Margaret was laughing.

What he did remember about that first meeting, he couldn't share. Her chocolate brown eyes, her gorgeous hair flowing around her shoulders, how he wanted to undress every last bit of her and take her then and there. There was no one else in the room as far as he was concerned. Besides, he'd just lied to Nurse Margaret. It turned out he did know how Laura felt. He grinned with the thought of what torture Laura would impart on Bernice if she knew their secretary had spilled every sordid detail about Laura's itchiness to seize him and his photo she kept in her desk drawer.

Just as he drifted into fantasy, Margaret interrupted, startling him.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Steele." Remington readjusted in his seat. It would amuse Laura to know that even under these circumstances, she could get him going.

"So, you worked together as a couple all this time?"

"No."

"Oh."

He crossed his legs uncomfortably, regretting having to talk about personal details. But, it was better than listening to relentless beeping, so he trudged on. "Laura is an independent sort, Margaret." The nurse just stared. "She, um …" He slipped his hand under Laura's fingers through the plastic bars. "She made me work for every last bit of this relationship, and I can't say it wasn't worth it."

"It must be nice to have someone like that." Remington smiled politely.

Fearing she was losing her audience, Margaret quickly threw out another query, "So, how did you propose?"

Remington looked at Laura and shook his head. Once they got out of this mess, they were going to have to come up with some fake answers for these questions because no one was going to buy the truth. He wondered if they would ever tell their son how they really met or how he came to be Remington Steele. He supposed they would have to. He wasn't going to keep secrets from his son the same way his father kept them from him.

"How did I propose? … the first time or the second?" Margaret didn't know what to say.

"Well, the first time, we were fighting about my decision to, um, about a wedding we'd just attended and after some discussion and a long trip in the agency limo, I begged her to marry me. We did it on a fishing trawler."

"Sounds romantic?" Margaret said, less than convinced.

Remington chuckled and squeezed Laura's hand. "When I found out the first try might not have been legal, I proposed again in Ireland during our honeymoon." He wasn't about to tell her the rest of that story.

He'd woken up in the morning sunlight of Ashford Castle with Laura in his arms. Making love to her for the first time (and the second) was unbelievable and overwhelming. Waking up with her in the same bed was gratifying beyond his expectations, but he felt a pang of guilt. He still hadn't said the words she needed to hear, even though she'd resigned herself to not needing to hear them.

He slipped out from under her and grabbed his robe. With the help of Mildred and the castle staff, he gathered roses from the garden and retrieved the ring he'd bought weeks earlier when he intended to ask Laura to marry him. INS and his fear of rejection sidetracked that idea and he devised his wickedly stupid plan to marry Clarissa. He shook his head, still disappointed at his lapse in judgment.

He tucked the ring under the bed and lit the few candles he could find, then dropped his robe and leaned against the mattress.

"Laura," he whispered, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. "Laura, love, wake up."

She needed to wake up soon. Between her nakedness, his state of undress and the memory of the night before, he wasn't going to make it to a proposal.

"Laura."

She rustled in the satin sheets and slowly sat up. "Hi. … What are you doing down there?" She ran her hand through her hair and rubbed her eyes, eventually noticing he was nude. He cradled her hand and adjusted to one knee. Her eyes widened, and she started to speak.

"Laura, please. I need to say this before I succumb to the urge to once again utilize our honeymoon bed." Laura smiled and leaned to kiss him.

He breathed heavily. "I want to do this right, Laura. You deserve nothing less." Now tears threatened to fall and she had to bite her lip.

"I love you. I've loved you longer than I care to admit, and I know you love me. I can't imagine my life without you, and after all of this, after everything I've put you through, if you'll still have me, I'd like to marry you. … Will you marry me, Laura? For real?"

She couldn't hold back. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she laughed her answer, "Yes, yes, I'll marry you." Remington forgot about the flowers and the ring and pushed her back onto the bed with him on top of her. Mid-kiss, he remembered. "Wait." He slid the ring box from under the bed and opened it. On a bed of velvet, sat a platinum ring centered with a deep blue stone surrounded by diamonds.

"That's not?"

"I'm afraid it is." His impish grin was irresistible. He slipped the ring on her finger, and fell forward as she pulled his shoulders toward the bed. He tasted her sweat from their passionate turn the night before and delved into her kiss. If he'd known what he'd been missing all of these years, he never would have waited this long to sample her skills. Wilson was wrong. She wasn't just absurdly passionate, she was intense and fun and sweet and giving. This was a woman unlike any other.

Remington shook from the memory when the monitor started to beep wildly and Margaret jumped from her seat. "Code blue," she urgently voiced into the speaker, pressing the button on the edge of Laura's bed. "Code blue!"

"Mr. Steele, we need to get you into the hallway. … Please? We can do more for her with you out of the room."

Remington stood and looked at Laura's finger. Her ring was gone.

To Be Continued