The Alternative Universe (AU) Series
Toss the Twilight Zone experience of Season 5 into the proverbial trash can. These stories pick up after Steele of Approval. While Bonds of Steele still exists, these stories look at Season 4 as most of the viewers saw it - Laura and Remington had crossed that line, imbuing that Season with the "Mr & Mrs Steele" feeling that most experienced. Way, way, way down the line, they will merge with the canon stories... because it is possible to do just that :)
For the best experience when reading my stories, they should be read in order as events from past stories, as well as Canon, will often be woven into future stories.
The order of the AU Series is as follows:
Steele Forsaken (Part 1 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)
Steele Mending (Part 2 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)
A Holt New Beginning (Part 3 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)
Chapter 1: The Earl's Son
Laura sat in the passenger seat of the small rental car, shifting in her seat subtly, often, and fidgeting with her hands, her hair, frequently. Not for the first time, her lips parted to offer to drive, only for her to clamp them closed again, fervently wishing they were back in LA where it would be she, more likely than not, driving. She preferred to drive, during times like these. Her mind could wander, but not obsess, as she circumnavigated the familiar highways with ease, while her hands and feet were kept occupied. But, here, in the English countryside, sitting on the wrong side of the car, driving on the wrong side of the road? Even she could admit that as frazzled as her nerves were at the present, now would not be the time to test her skills. Hell, parts of her body still smarted from her tumble from the Ocelot dune buggy she'd swiped from the Earl when in pursuit of his serial killer, soon-to-be brother-in-law. So, she resigned herself to the fact that sit here and fidget she would.
She slanted her eyes to her right, taking in Remington. While his face would suggest he was perfectly placid, the occasional swipe of his chin, the tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel bespoke of his own discomfiture. She couldn't exactly blame him. After all, how often does one meet their father for the first time.
That passing thought only began her worrying anew. Would he want to return with her to LA? He was, after all, the son of an Earl… nobility. She guffawed to herself silently, as stunned by this turn as he. The man with no name, no home, no family, a member of the royal peerage. Would he wish to stay and take his rightful place among society, enjoying the perks that undoubtedly accompanied such standing? If he did return home with her, would he shed the mantle of Remington Steele, opting instead to lay full claim to his birth name?
For three years she'd been asking for a name, making her trust almost conditional on it, even after discovering he, himself, had no idea of what it was. For years, she'd hung different names on him during conversations on the matter: Harry (how ironic is that? she laughed to herself), Cyril, Charlie. She couldn't say when, in her mind, he'd simply become Remington Steele, but he had. Now, with his parentage established, she had to find a way to readjust that thinking. It was enough to make her turn her head to look out the window, a hand raising so fingers could work a brow.
She mentally shoved concerns about his name aside. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it… if we come to it. We, our partnership, our relationship – if that even exists any longer – could very well come to an end, if he chooses to take his rightful place and remain in London. As happy as she was for him that he'd finally found what he'd yearned a lifetime for, her heart ached at the thought it might bring about their final adieus. She shook that thought from her head as well.
They'd settled nothing between them last night, had not said a word about how he'd come to be in London, the way he'd left LA. It was an assumption, on her part, that he'd want to resume their relationship. Not their business relationship, although that would certainly be the icing on the cake, but their personal one. It was the loss of the latter that had left her adrift, heartbroken over the last months and what had led her here to England to find him and bring him home. Assuming, again, he was even interested in resuming their personal relationship. During the time they'd spent together in the flophouse, she'd been led to believe that he'd missed her, them, as much as she. But in light of the resumption of his physical relationship with Felicia, it seemed she may have put too much weight on the words, kisses and touches exchanged.
As it was, they'd returned to the hotel late in the evening, interviews with various police officials keeping them tied up most of the night, and after securing a room adjoining her own for him, awkward silence had followed, neither sure how to begin crossing the divide the last four months and the events that spurred them on had created. Taking the key from her hand, he'd opened her door, an act that he'd committed without thought in the three years of their association. Stepping into her room, she'd been compelled to spin back around, not wanting him to leave, but unable to find the gumption to have the conversation that was demanding to be had.
"8 o'clock?" she said instead, choosing the safe road out of habit.
"Mmmm, sounds about right," he agreed.
Then they had stood, silent, awkward, before her mercifully chose to end the evening for them.
"Well, uh, yes. Goodnight then." He leaned forward and bussed her quickly on the cheek, a touch of his hand against his cheek exhibited of his own discomfort.
"Goodnight," she returned quietly, unable to hide the disappointment that reverberated in her voice.
And now, here they were. No answers. Steeped in silence, neither sure what to say. She sighed, unknowingly, drawing a glance from him.
Laura was not the only one plagued by unanswered questions. Remington's thoughts had nearly echoed her own throughout the hour long drive through the English countryside. He doubted she would ever understand what it meant to him that she'd come six thousand miles to find him. The time they'd shared in the flophouse had gone a long way to filling the vacuous hole that had resided in his chest since she'd ended them back in LA. Her words, her touch, how she'd chosen of her own accord to sleep tucked into his side, the way it appeared she couldn't get close enough to him, each had made him believe that she'd not come for her flashy figurehead, but he'd been afraid to attribute anything of substantially more significance to it.
Then, when Felicia had him snatched from the streets and had thrust him into the role of 'the finest assassin in all of Europe,' he'd had not a single doubt his sudden disappearance would leave his Miss Holt seething, believing he'd played her for a fool. Never mind he'd had no desire to part from her lovely company, that he'd been devastated as he feared for her life after Armstrong's men had taken aim upon her fleeing form. She would only see the abandonment, he knew, because it was for that she was always waiting.
Would she even wish for him to come home with her now? And if so, in what capacity? Solely as the mythical Steele come to life, or as something more? Would the fact that he'd found his father, would be able to at last offer her name carry any weight? Truth be told, he was fairly certain his heart wouldn't be able to withstand returning to LA as purely her business associate. A repeat of those months after Cannes. It had been far too difficult the first go 'round, missing her, craving her touch, her taste, the nights spent dancing, laughing, simply being in one another's presence. And after the last four months without her? No, he wouldn't be able to endure it again. The very thought of that possibility had him lifting a thumb to worry the nail with his mouth.
First to get through this next bit, old sport, he reminded himself. A father. That idea alone was almost more than he could take in at the moment. More than three decades spent not knowing who he was, where he'd come from, and now, suddenly, a father. And with that father would come a new name. Only three short years ago, he'd assumed and shed names weekly, at times, daily. But only a few of the names he'd used had stood any passage of time - Mick, Michael, Paul, Harry – the names by which he was known to fellow ne'er-do-wells. Of all of them, Mick had come closest to feeling like his own, perhaps because of its tie to his homeland and even that name did not sit on his shoulders as though it truly belonged. Only one name ever had. The one he'd strove to earn the right to, the one tied to her. He exhaled heavily, then turned his attention to the estate at which they'd arrive, following the long drive until he pulled the car to a stop by the front stairs, cutting the engine. Opening and closing his hands a couple of times in order to quell their slight tremor, he reached out and patted her leg.
"Laura, we're here." She turned, blinking at him several times, coming back from wherever her mind had taken her. She gave him a nod, then opened her car door. Circling the car, she stood next to him, both considering the house in front of them. "Shall we then?" he asked holding out his hand towards the staircase. She took an imperceptible step back.
"No, you go on. This is your moment," she urged, forcing a smile. He looked at her and nodded, then taking a deep breath started towards the staircase. He hadn't made it a full four steps, before stilled then returned to her, his hand reaching for hers.
"Laura," he entreated quietly. She leveled her eyes on him, felt the cool, clammy texture of his hand, the slight tremor in it. But it was the stark fear she saw reflected in his eyes that left her nodding at him.
"Alright, we'll do it together," she told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His hand turned in hers to weave their fingers together. With a nod from Remington, they ascended the stairs together. She stared, briefly, at their joined hands, trying to recall if they'd ever held hands for no other purpose than connection.
He didn't let go of her hand until they'd been waiting more than ten minutes for their audience with the Earl. She was starting to feel dizzy as she watched him pace forward, spin, pace back towards her, spin, pace forward…
"Relax," she urged him. "Everything's going to be just fine." She fervently wished her voice hadn't reflected her own nervousness, which of course didn't escape him as he looked at her askance.
"Laura, isn't every day you get to meet your father… I mean for the first time." His head yanked towards the study door in expectation as it opened, only to watch Daniel exit the room.
"Wonderful man, the Earl. His gratitude was boundless," Daniel enthused, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face.
"After all, you did save his life," Laura pointed out pragmatically.
"He's thinking of putting me in charge of security for the estate."
"Daniel…" Remington drew out his name in warning.
"Nothing definite. We're merely discussing it."
"Oh."
"Well, my boy, good luck." He shook Remington's hand enthusiastically. "I hope this brings you everything you've always wanted." He turned to Laura. "Linda, my dear, I'm afraid we shall have to postpone our luncheon." He bussed her on the cheek even as he continued to bait both of them. "I shall be extremely busy. Looking at alarm systems, laser beams, light sensors- you know- the stuff of- security-" he laughed, waving as he left the room. Remington half-heartedly returned the wave, his smile strained, before fading all together. Seeing his unease return, Laura moved to him.
"Well," she said on a sigh, as she smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his clothing. "Alright. Don't slouch."
Together then entered the study, Remington closing the door behind them. Laura stood back demurely yet anxiously watching the reunion of father and son. The Earl crossed the room to Remington as the two men took one another in.
"Hello," Remington greeted, almost shyly, stunning Laura. The two men embraced awkwardly, yet with their underlying emotions quite clear.
"You've no idea how many years I've waited for this," the Earl told Remington, his voice gruff with emotion.
"I- uh, I think I do. Ever since I was a child, I realized that I- uh, wasn't like other children. I mean, I had no parents, no real parents, no true home. I was always trying to imagine what my real father was like. Creating, recreating his image, you know, how he walked, how he talked. How he smiled." Laura's heart pounded in her chest at his words.
"I regret many things. But none more severely than losing you."
"There's time. There's much time," Remington assured him as Laura beamed. How like her Mr. Steele, to forgive so readily, to leave the past behind and only look to the here and now.
"Let me look at you. Firm jaw. Blue eyes." The Earl looked away, clearly disturbed. Laura's feet moved her forward a couple of steps of their own volition at his reaction.
"Your Lordship?" she inquired.
"What is it?" Remington's question followed not far behind.
"Your eyes."
"What about them?" Laura inquired.
"They're blue."
"Is that a problem?" she queried.
"My son has- hazel eyes. Like his mother." Laura's heart broke for the man that had waited his entire life to know who he was, where he belonged.
"Are you sure? You said you only saw him once." Remington lifted his hand in her direction, stopping her from asking any further questions.
"I-uh, I don't think, uh, a father could make that mistake so easily. Could he, Your Lordship?"
"No," the Earl agreed, obviously saddened.
"Are you saying he isn't your-but, he's the right age, and he was raised in Ireland- and the watch. What about the watch?"
"Well, the initials S.J. stand for Sean James. The boy's name. I gave it to a friend to make sure he received it when he came of age."
"Well, there you are," Laura said, as though it all but sealed the deal.
"The watch was lost or stolen. And when you turned up with it, I naturally assumed it had found its way back to my son."
"Well," Remington mulled aloud. "That would make sense."
"What does?" Laura asked, baffled by the statement.
"My father probably stole the watch," he told her in his typical good humor. He and the Earl shared a smile.
"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Steele. For both our sakes."
The two men shook hands and shared a final embrace before Remington crossed the room to Laura.
"Shall we, Miss Holt? I think we have a long way to go." He turned to give the Earl a final look. "Good day to you, sir." Laura was at a loss of what to do, so did the only thing she could think of at the moment.
"I'm so sorry," she told him quietly, sincerely, laying a hand on his arm.
They sake hands, then smile and embrace again. "Shall we, Miss Holt? I think we have a long way to go. Good day to you, sir." He opens the door.
He guided Laura through the magnificent home and back to the car, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Handing her into the car, he waited until he slipped into the driver's seat, started the car and put it in gear before speaking.
"Well, it would appear the mystery of who I am shall continue on, eh?" he asked. Compassion shone in her eyes when she looked at him. Without thought, she took his hand in hers, tangling their fingers. She had no words to offer him, only her presence. She hoped that would be enough.