Steele Typing a Remington

Disclaimer:

Remington Steele and its characters are owned by MTM. No copyright infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only.

This is an after Season 4 story. Season 5 doesn't exist in my AU.

Prologue

He closed the door behind her carefully, almost soundlessly. "Call me when you are ready to talk; I'll be here, waiting. I love you," he whispered to himself, not believing what had just happened. His hands remained still, holding the door handle for an aching minute after her departure. He turned around to face the emptiness surrounding him, and it was then when it hit him.

They were in front of their first significant marriage crisis. It wasn't that they hadn't been through some minor ones. They had their issues, as every couple did. And they worked through them like every couple did as well. But the terrible part this time was that he didn't have a clue about what the problem was about. The only certainty was that he was as responsible as she could be. It was a situation between two people in love. It was a situation between two adults, one of them needing answers that the other wasn't giving. Life was usually like that. But sometimes innocent words could act as a cathartic shot; sometimes actions could develop into unexpected despair. And there were always hurting consequences after that.

He will give her some time, just as she begged him to do before kissing him and going away. It will be the most challenging time of his life; but after seeing the pain in her eyes right before turning to go away, he was sure it will be the worst time of her life as well. Just the thought of being apart for some time felt like hell. He wasn't ready to elaborate anything ahead of that.

Chapter 1

"Mrs. Steele, you have a call. Mr. Powell is on line two."

"Mr. Powell? The name is not familiar. Is he related to any case we are handling, Mildred?"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Steele. But he asked specially for you. He asked for Miss Holt, in fact."

"Maybe someone related to an old case… Transfer the call, Mildred."

"Hello, Laura Holt speaking…"

"Hello, Laura. Perhaps you don't remember me. I'm Ryan Powell, Jane Adler's husband. I don't think we have met."

"Oh! Jane's husband, sure. We'd spoken a lot about you when we were in high school. Can't imagine why," she added jokingly.

"Well, we are together since then, so you might have. I heard a lot about you as well. Jane was always talking about your adventures in high school. It seems you were such a pair."

"Yes, we did. We were close friends back then. We didn't see a lot more of each other after high school, though. We went through college in different states, and I think we lost touch after some time."

A moment of silence followed.

"I need your help, Laura."

"Did something happen to Jane?"

"Not technically, I guess. But I wish I could be sure about that."

"Do you want to come to the agency? We can talk about that today if you are available."

"Sure. Would 3:00 this afternoon be ok?"

"Sounds perfect to me. I'll be waiting."

Laura put the phone on the cradle and stood there mentally rearranging their schedule for a brief moment. Looking at her watch, she stood up from the chair and walked to Mr. Steele's office. He was leisurely reading the newspaper; the agency paperwork neatly separated aside waiting for his signature.

"We should go have lunch now if you're interested in eating today. We have an appointment at 3:00. "

He peeked at her from his reading. "Laura, it's 11:30 in the morning. We don't need to be out of the office until 1:00, for God's sake. I'm in the middle of my reading." He returned his eyes to the paper in his hands. Laura didn't move for a moment. Sensing her eyes still on him, he put down the paper and asked, "Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. As I guessed, all the files are still beside you, still not signed. Mildred has to send some of those papers in this afternoon's mail. So, we should be going now, and you should try to have some work done by the time of Ryan Powell's arrival."

"Who's Ryan Powell?"

She hesitated a bit before replying. "A friend. A friend of a friend. He is Jane Adler's husband."

"Can't remember the name. Did we meet her?"

"No, I guess not. She was a good friend from high school."

"Hmm, interesting. Someone from your high school past coming out…" He folded the paper, put down his sleeves, readjusted his tie and put on his coat. "It will be a pleasure to have you enlighten me about the case during lunch."

"I wasn't expecting to hear that from you. Not complaining about wasting a lunch with me, talking about business…"

"There's a misunderstanding there, Laura. It never is a wasted lunch if you are there with me, even if we might have a business conversation in the meantime. Besides, it's my chance to know something about your high school experience after all. Not that you are hiding anything about it, but you must agree you never talk about it."

"You are right. I guess college took over the high school at the end. So, I talk more about it. But there's nothing mysterious to hide; in opposition to other people still hiding a mysterious past after all these years…"

"Martino's or The Bistro?" he asked.

"What about Big Mamma? I love their gourmet sandwiches and French fries."

"Sticky fingers conversation… I hope it won't get too sticky…"

"Try to maintain the conversation between regular boundaries and it will work, Mr. Steele."

"Boundaries; such a tempting word, Laura."

"To respect or to break?"

The doubt assaulted him, but then he sensed he was trespassing into unsafe territory. "Come on Laura. It's getting late. We should be going if you want some paperwork done before our client's arrival."

"I want all the paperwork done, Mr. Steele…"

"Boundaries, Laura. Don't push too hard on me…"

"So, what about our client?" He asked her.

"He called me this morning and asked me for help. He said he was sure something happened to Jane. That's all I know. He will explain the rest later at the office."

"So, maybe you could tell me about Jane. She was your friend in high school?"

"Yes. She lived near my house, so we used to sit together on the school bus. We were mostly school friends, you know. We didn't go out with boys together. She was a great student and spent most of the time between books. She loved to read, and had a full scholarship in English Language & Literature in college. She went to Harvard."

"Harvard? I see. Another brilliant mind. "

"Another? What do you mean?"

"Well, you had a full scholarship in Stanford, didn't you? And you are brilliant, so… I suppose she is special like you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you."

"You are welcome. So, you were friends, and you shared the bus ride home. Anything else you had in common?"

"Actually, yes. We helped each other with our homework from time to time. As I was saying, Jane was very good at Literature and an avid reader, and I was good at Math and Calculus. So, I used to do some of her Math exercises, and she used to do some of my Literature essays through our last high school year. We added a personal touch to each of the essays and exercises before delivering them to the teacher just to avoid suspicion, you know…"

Mr. Steele left his sandwich on the dish, unable to believe his ears. He couldn't help but smile in amusement at her words.

"You were a con woman in high school, Laura? I'm stunned."

"I wasn't a con woman in high school! It's just that I wasn't good enough in Literature, and I found someone who was, and was eager to help me. I accepted her help. That's all."

"But you conned your Literature teacher and helped your friend to con your Math and Calculus teacher as well. Wait! Are we talking about the same Calculus teacher?"

"Mrs. Brown…"

"No, I guess we are not. I'm bloody relieved to hear that."

She was getting exasperated; "It wasn't like that…" She tried to find a good and healthy explanation in her mind without success. "Okay. Maybe it was. But if that makes me a con woman, it takes Jane up to the same category. And I'm not comfortable thinking about her in that way… She was a very nice girl. It was high school after all. We were too young."

"Sometimes we chose strange patterns to follow when we are young. How great that we had the chance to correct them as adults, eh?"

She knew he was not speaking only about her. He was talking about himself as well. "Yes, it's a great thing," she added.

"But you didn't learn as much as you thought. You were still insisting on making the same mistake when you created Remington Steele," he added mischievously.

"So did you…"

"Touché…"