This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and this is not intended to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from it. Feedback is always welcome.
Author's note: Please excuse any errors in time-keeping in this part. I have tried to be as accurate as possible with my calculations, but this jumping between time zones is enough to drive a person crazy! Or perhaps I can attribute it to an alternative universe where time can speed up or slow down at will. Also I don't know of any drug that would cause the effects described herein. I invented the drug for the purposes of the story. Also this part is rated NC-17 If you are under 17 or descriptions of graphic sex offend you, don't read it!
Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 4The force of the explosion threw Remington to the ground. He landed hard. Sharp pains pierced his head and left shoulder. He shielded his head from flying debris as best he could with his other arm. Dazed momentarily from the shock of the explosion and the pain, Remington finally managed to sit up, ignoring the dizziness, and gingerly probed his shoulder to check for any broken bones. He winced. There didn't seem to be anything fractured, but it still hurt like hell. Remington wondered if he had dislocated his collarbone or sprained the shoulder. He didn't have long to contemplate the possibilities. The sirens of the fire trucks filled the night air and suddenly a plan occurred to him. A bomb had just blown his flat to smithereens. What better way to disappear and trail the Shadow than to let everyone think he was missing? Remington slowly rose to his feet and swayed, almost losing his balance from the wave of dizziness that washed over him. Oh, great, he thought, I probably have a concussion, too. But he had to get away. Remington stumbled down alleyways and mews in the gathering dusk, making his way toward Rupert Whittingham's palatial home in the center of London.
As usual, his best laid plans went awry. Remington stumbled, dizziness overtaking him again. This time he lost the battle. He crumpled to the ground as unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
Eduardo Columbini sat at a private table in a casino in Nice, France. His lavish lifestyle was beginning to wear on him. He was rotund from indulging in too many luscious meals and his eyes were perpetually puffy from indulging in too much drink. He also coughed continually from the cigars he kept clamped in his teeth. A haze of smoke swirled around him even now. However, he was a contented man, secure in his position as the head of an underworld syndicate that stretched all over Europe and was always one step ahead of the authorities. He had won big tonight. He was sitting across from a beautiful woman who wore a black dress that revealed more than covered her generous female attributes. Why shouldn't he be content? As he placed his next bet, two of his operatives-dark haired gorillas with bulging muscles, sauntered up to the table. Columbini looked up at them.
"Gentlemen? I take it you have news?" his accent was a blend of French and Italian.
"Subject London #1 has been displaced. The flat was blown up and he is reported as missing." Mario, the largest of the two operatives, gave his report. Columbini sat back in his chair and blew a smoke screen around him.
"Excellent, gentlemen, excellent.. Proceed to the next stage of our plan."
Mario merely nodded and the two men left. Columbini continued to play, racking up more and more winnings at chemin de fer. Soon he was interrupted once more, this time by a lovely young woman in her early thirties with raven black hair that cascaded to her shoulders and eyes as blue as the night sky outside. She was clad in a white dress that snugly fit her slender frame, but was, at the same time, demure.
"Having good luck tonight, ma pere?" she asked as she sat down next to Columbini. Her accent was also that curious mixture of French and Italian with a hint of British thrown in from her education at Oxford. He took the cigar out of his mouth and laid it down in the ashtray at his elbow.
"Ah, Cara. Yes, ma cherie, I am." He reached out to pat his adopted daughter's hand, struck again by how much she resembled her mother.
"Have you heard any news about the search for my brother, papa?"
"All in good time, Cara. I know you are most anxious to meet him."
"Yes, I am. Well, I am going to turn in. Good night, papa." Cara kissed her father on the cheek and walked out of the casino. Columbini watched her go.
His daughter was the light of his life. He would do anything for her, including die for her.
Or even kill for her.
"Mr. Steele?" a lilting feminine voice that sounded suspiciously like Laura's drew Remington out of a pleasant dream as he drifted into consciousness.
"Laura?" he murmured, his blue eyes fluttering open as his hand groped for his wife's.
"No, Mr. Steele. It's Miss Tidwell." Now the feminine voice didn't sound anything like Laura's; instead it was a distinctly crisp English accent. "Do you know where you are?"
Remington's head started to clear from the cobwebs of sleep and he looked around. That slight movement sent a stab of pain through his skull and he moaned. From the sterile look of his surroundings he guessed he was in a hospital, not the alley where he vaguely remembered collapsing.
"A hospital, from the looks of it." He replied to the nurse's question.
"Very good. And what is your address?"
Remington rattled off the Rossmore apartment address since he no longer had an address here in London. He also answered the nurse's inane question about how many fingers she was holding up in front of him. He was growing tired of this routine that had continued through the night: being awakened every two hours to be subjected to this foolish round of questions when all he wanted to do was sleep. They had explained it was common procedure with concussion patients, but it seemed totally pointless to him.
"Excellent, Mr. Steele. The doctor will be in to see you after breakfast."
"Breakfast? What time is it?" Remington attempted to sit up, but again the simple movement sent a piercing pain through his skull. The nurse slowly raised him to a sitting position with minimum movement.
"It's six o'clock in the morning." Miss Tidwell moved away from the bed and picked up a tray from a cart. She placed the tray in front of Remington.
"So then it's ten o'clock in Los Angeles." He hurriedly calculated the time difference between London and L.A. "May I call my wife now?"
"I don't know, Mr. Steele. Your condition." The nurse began, but Remington interrupted.
"Blast my condition! I am fine." Rem's voice rose in anger and the hints of Irish emerged as they always did when he was emotionally upset. "What is the bloody problem about calling my wife to tell her I'm O.K., eh?"
"Mr. Steele, please-don't upset yourself."
"It's too bloody late for that." Remington threw back the covers on the bed and swung his legs over the side, swaying slightly with vertigo, but determined to continue his search for a phone. He spotted it on the bedside table and leaned over to pick up the receiver. As he did, the dizziness once again claimed him. He would have collapsed in a heap on the floor if Nurse Tidwell had not come to his rescue. She helped him back into bed.
"Mr. Steele-" she scolded in her best nurse' voice. "Eat your breakfast. I will go get the doctor. I'm sure he'll want to see you now after these two episodes."
Nurse Tidwell left the room and Remington reluctantly ate the slop the hospital laughingly called food. What he wouldn't give for a fluffy omelet stuffed full with mushrooms and cheese right now. Well, there was no use torturing himself with those thoughts. He pushed away the plate with the half eaten breakfast, but he did finish his tea. At least they could brew a decent cup. As he set the cup down on the tray after swallowing the last drop of tea, Remington's eyes fell on the phone again. Moving very slowly, he reached for the receiver-just as the door to his room opened. A bobby and a tall, thin man with an unmistakable air of authority surrounding him led Remington to guess he was an inspector for the Yard came into the room. Miss Tidwell brought up the rear. She surmised what Remington had in mind when she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Mr. Steele, put the phone down."
"Miss Tidwell, must we go through this again? Hello, gentlemen." Remington addressed the bobby and the inspector. "Perhaps you can convince Nurse Tidwell that it is in everyone's best interest that I use this phone to call my wife in the States."
"I'm afraid we are the ones who placed the ban on phone use, Mr. Steele." The inspector stepped forward and moved to the bed. Mr. Steele's instincts went on full alert. Something in the man's answer to his question and his manner aroused his suspicions. "I'm Inspector Barrett and this is Officer Kerry." He indicated the bobby behind him who merely nodded at Mr. Steele. "He is the one who found you in the alley."
"Ah, yes, mates, would you be good enough to show me your identification, please? I was the unfortunate victim of a fraud a few days ago and I do not wish to repeat the experience."
"Certainly, Mr. Steele." Both the inspector and the bobby merely flashed their badges at Remington. He realized that these two men were not who they claimed to be. At the same time the room began to spin and there was a strange taste in his mouth. Too late Remington realized his tea must have been tainted with drugs.
For the second time in twenty-four hours Remington lapsed into unconsciousness.
Laura worked in the office until midnight and then returned to the apartment to stretch out on the sofa to sleep. She couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in their bed without Rem beside her. She had grown accustomed to falling asleep in his arms. Laura arose at six after a restless few hours of sleep. She showered and dressed in a taupe pantsuit topped with a cranberry shell. She dragged out her largest suitcase and started packing for the trip to London. Laura took a brief break when her stomach growled with hunger. She went into the kitchen and hunted down something for breakfast. One of Rem's delectable omelets would have been her first choice. Since that wasn't possible, she settled for two pieces of whole wheat toast spread with orange marmalade and a glass of orange juice.
Laura walked back into the living room and put her breakfast on the coffee table, then found the remote and punched the power button to turn on the TV. It was too darn quiet in the apartment. A TV report of an explosion in a building in London caught her attention. She was about to take another sip of orange juice when the next image on the screen halted the juice glass halfway up to her mouth.
It was a picture of Remington.
The reporter said, "-land Yard is reporting that Mr. Steele is missing. There was no one else in the building at the time of the explosion. To repeat, famed L.A. detective Remington Steele is missing-"
Laura clicked off the TV set and sank down on the sofa, putting down her glass of juice on the coffee table. She wrapped her arms around herself as a shudder of dread racked her body. Laura tried to gather her jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. She latched on to one that continued to push its way forward.
Remington was not dead. She would have known deep in her soul if he was dead. The next question was where was he?
A faded memory of a similar situation brought a knowing smile to Laura's lips. Of course. When a fire had broken out in her loft building as corporate bigwigs were searching for something in her loft a couple of years ago, Remington had supposedly been trapped inside. Then she had gone back into the building with the firefighters to the basement and she had heard a knocking on the door of the coal bin. Mr. Steele had hidden inside to escape the flames and smoke. He had probably done the same thing in London. In their last conversation on the phone Remington had told her he might have to disappear. What better way to do that than to let everybody think he was lost in a fire? It would make her job of finding him more difficult, but at least she knew he was safe. For now. A shiver of panic swept through her when Laura remembered what she had read about Columbini on the print-out. She pushed the bad thoughts aside and returned to the bedroom to finish packing. Tucking her ticket and her passport in her purse, Laura carried the suitcase into the living room to put it down behind the sofa. She moved to the phone and started to pick up the receiver to call Fred. The phone rang under her hand. "Hello-Laura Holt Steele-" she barely managed to speak her name before Mildred's panicked voice interrupted her.
"Mrs. Steele, have you seen the news? They're saying the Boss is missing! There was an explosion at Mr. Chalmer's old flat-"
"I saw it, Mildred. I'm sure he's all right-"
"But what if he isn't? What if he has amnesia again? He'll be wandering around London, not knowing his name. He'll be so lost-"
"He has his Remington Steele passport-" Laura reminded the secretary, but Mildred rushed ahead.
"I'm coming with you to London, honey. I'll meet you at the gate."
"Mildred, no!" But Mildred had already hung up. Laura punched the hang-up button and started to dial the secretary's number again when the doorbell buzzed. "Now what?" she muttered to herself as she hung up the phone to answer the door. Detective Jarvis was leaning against the door jamb. "Jarvis. Of course. To what do I owe this early Saturday morning visit?"
"I told you I might have more questions later, remember, Mrs. Steele? May I come in?"
Laura motioned him inside and closed the door behind them. Jimmy spotted her suitcase. "Going somewhere?"
"To London-" Laura lifted her chin in defiance.
"Oh, really? Was this trip planned before I asked you to stay in L.A. as a material witness or were you planning a quick get-away-perhaps to join your husband?" Jarvis' voice was cold.
"No. It wasn't planned. But you already knew that, didn't you, Detective Jarvis? Can we get to the point, please?" Laura was quickly losing patience with the detective's roundabout questioning.
"The point is you are still a material witness to the murder of Sean O'Connor, Mrs. Steele, so I have a right to detain you."
"And you know as well as I do that you can't hold me longer than forty-eight hours which will be up at noon today. My flight leaves at 3:05. Either ask your bloody questions or get out so I can get ready for my trip."
Jarvis stared at her for a moment, then slowly he pulled a document out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Remembering this trick from the other day, Laura asked sarcastically, "What is that? A warrant for my arrest?"
"It is a warrant-a search warrant for this apartment."
"And what is it you hope to find? You already have your smoking gun' as it were, Jarvis. The agency gun-the note and the witnesses. What else do you need? You're already convicted Remington anyway."
"Upon further checking into Sean O'Connor's background, we have found more leads that stop right at Mr. Steele's door. Can I call my men in, Mrs. Steele?"
Laura sighed heavily and raked a hand through her hair. She knew she had the legal right to refuse, but she was too tired to argue anymore. Her almost sleepless night and her worry about Rem had taken its toll. "Yes, Detective Jarvis, your men can search our apartment." While Laura sat on the sofa, a pillow clutched to her midsection, three officers scoured every nook and cranny of the apartment. She glanced at her watch every five minutes, urging the hands to move faster toward noon-and her freedom. With nothing else to occupy her mind, doubts about Rem started to crowd into her thoughts. What if she was wrong about his disappearance'? What if he really was missing, abducted by Columbini's henchmen? Laura hugged the pillow closer as her heart constricted in fear. God, she wished Jarvis' men would hurry up so she could leave. Suddenly her finely honed instincts told her something was wrong and Remington needed her. Laura threw the pillow down and picked up the phone. She dialed the international directory assistance number and asked the operator for the number of Scotland Yard. After jotting it down in case she needed it later, Laura asked the operator to connect her. What seemed to be an interminable amount of time passed before the phone on the other end was answered.
"Scotland Yard-Sergeant Jones." A crisp English accent greeted her.
"My name is Laura Holt Steele. May I speak to Chief Inspector Lombard, please?" Even though Inspector Lombard was not exactly her biggest fan, he was the only person she knew at Scotland Yard. She had learned long ago that it was always better to have a contact when digging for information.
"The Inspector is out on a case, ma'am-"
"I'm calling from America so I don't want to leave a message. Do you know when he will be back?"
"Hard to say exactly-"
"Well, then perhaps you can help me. Like I said my name is Laura Holt Steele. I'm Remington Steele's wife-"
"Remington Steele? The detective?" suddenly Laura had the bobby's full attention.
"Yes-"
"Just hold on, ma'am-" the phone clicked as she was put on hold before she could protest and Laura frowned. Apparently the fact that this was an international call-a very expensive international call-had not registered with the policeman. Laura drummed her fingers on the sofa cushion beside her and checked her watch. Just as she was about to hang up, suddenly the phone was picked up and another clipped English voice said:
"Mrs. Steele? I'm Inspector Rutherford."
"Hello, Inspector."
"Have you been in touch with your husband?" There was something in the policeman's tone and the phrasing of the question that reinforced Laura's suspicions that something was wrong with Remington. Fear gripped her heart again.
"He called me late Thursday night. I haven't heard from him since then. Has something happened, Inspector?"
"Mrs. Steele, I would really rather not discuss this on the phone."
"Inspector, please-"
"How soon could you arrive here, Mrs. Steele?"
Suddenly it dawned on Laura what the Inspector was trying to tell her. The phones could be bugged. He didn't want to divulge any more information than was necessary. Good Lord, what was Remington mixed up in this time?
"I' m flying out of here this afternoon. I am being detained as a material witness in a murder here and the forty- eight hour deadline is not up until then."
"Yes, I seem to remember a report on that case was sent here. A Detective Jarvis was handling it. I haven't had time to peruse it yet. But perhaps I can do something to help. I'll ring up Jarvis and explain the circumstances."
"As it happens Detective Jarvis is searching my apartment at this very moment." Laura said as Jarvis came back into the living room from the kitchen. The detective shot Laura a probing look, but she only responded with a sweet smile and pulled the phone from her ear to hold it out to him. "Detective Jarvis, Inspector Rutherford of Scotland Yard wants to speak with you."
After giving her another suspicious glare, Jimmy took the telephone from Laura. The whole extent of the conversation Laura could hear was a stream of yes' and yes, sirs.' Since she knew Rutherford outranked Jarvis even though they were in different police hierarchies, Laura took it as a good sign she would be on her way to London soon. That gave way to the mounting worry about Remington she had momentarily pushed aside to play her little game with Jarvis.
God, where was he? Was he ok? That feeling of dread that had never completely dissipated rushed to the forefront of her mind again. She closed her eyes against it.
"All right, Mrs. Steele, you won this round."' Jimmy Jarvis' voice broke into her reverie and Laura opened her eyes to look at him. "But this isn't over. When you and Mr. Steele return from London, we will need statements from both of you."
"Of course, Detective Jarvis-" she gave him another sweet smile. While the detective and his men cleared out of the apartment, Laura called Fred to come pick her up and she was soon on her way to the airport.
Darkness. Deadly quiet. His arms and legs barely moved in the quicksand of his fears as Remington reached out to grasp. What? The lurking shadows hid his prize from view. Then the haziness lifted and the fog morphed into Laura's face.
"Rem? Remington?" her mouth moved, but no sound emerged. She reached out to him, her hands pleading for his rescuing grasp, but he couldn't reach her. The quicksand was too thick. The gap between them was too wide. He couldn't reach her. Oh, Lord, he couldn't reach her!
"Laura!" his lips formed around her name, but only a silent scream emanated from him. He had to get to Laura. He had to rescue her. He attempted to swim through the quagmire, but the darkness pulled him down--down into its murky depths. Then the darkness lifted for a brief moment and he saw Columbini's face. The Shadow was laughing as he grabbed Laura and pulled her further out of Remington's reach. He yelled her name again, but the blackness claimed him once more.
"Has there been any change in Mr. Steele's condition?" the doctor asked the nurse standing by the bed as he entered Remington's hospital room.
"No, Doctor. He is still unconscious, even though there does seem to be more brain activity as if he was trying to fight his way into consciousness." The nurse replied. The doctor checked the heart monitor and the other machines in the room to gather information about Remington's vital signs. He jotted his notes down on Rem's chart.
"Continue to monitor him. He should have regained consciousness by now. Perhaps his wife's presence will bring him out. She will be here soon from America."
"Yes, Doctor." The young nurse sighed as she glanced at the handsome face of her patient. Of course he had a wife. Handsome men like him were snatched up quickly. The doctor and the nurse left Remington's room and met Laura, Mildred and Inspector Rutherford in the hallway.
"Mrs. Steele, this is Dr. Brandon. Doctor, Mrs. Laura Holt Steele and Mildred Krebs." Inspector Rutherford made the introductions.
"Doctor, how is-" Laura never finished her sentence.
"Laura!" From inside the hospital room came Remington's shout. Laura pushed past the doctor and rushed into the room to make a beeline for the bed. Remington was restless and he murmured something that sounded like No! Please don't take Laura. Laura! Laura! No. No-oooo!"
"Rem, I'm here." Laura grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Nobody is taking me anywhere. I'm here, Remington, I'm here." Remington continued to moan and murmur and thrash around on the bed, apparently not hearing her reassurances. Laura glanced at the doctor who had followed her into the room, the inspector and Mildred bringing up the rear. "What is wrong? Can't you wake him from this nightmare?" she started to shake his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. "Rem, wake up. Love, I'm here." She leaned down to whisper in his ear as she fought the tears welling up in her eyes. "Remington-Harry, I'm here. I'm here."
The doctor moved over to Laura and gently steered her away from the bed. "Mrs. Steele, that won't do any good." He told her softly.
"Why?" Laura swiped at the wetness pooling in her eyes. "What is wrong with him?"
"He's been drugged. We have narrowed it down to one of two hallucinogens, but we still don't know which one he was given. The test results have not come back yet."
"Hallucinogen? As in LSD or angel dust?" Laura asked.
"Something like that, yes. Apparently the drug is so powerful that it causes deep unconsciousness, and the hallucinogen continues to work on the brain, causing the patient to have illusions."
"And so he thinks someone is trying to take me away." Laura deduced. The doctor only nodded. "Tell me how this happened."
The inspector jumped into the conversation. "We-had a breach in security, Mrs. Steele. That is why one of my men is stationed outside Mr. Steele's door. Two men dressed as policemen and a woman dressed as a nurse gained access to your husband's breakfast tray and placed the hallucinogen in his tea, we believe. The food was only half eaten, but the tea cup was empty."
Laura shared a knowing smile with Mildred. "That's our Mr. Steele. He hates hospital food, but he would finish his tea. Then what happened?"
"The impostors attempted to abduct Mr. Steele, but, on a tip, my men and I stopped it. The three perpetrators are now in jail."
"And you couldn't ask them what kind of drug they had given Remington?" Laura asked, kicking into full detective mode.
"They aren't talking, ma'am. Mrs. Steele, we need to ask you if you know of anyone who would want Mr. Steele incapacitated? Is he working on a case over here?" the inspector inquired.
Laura shook her head and scratched her left ear as she again exchanged glances with Mildred. "He came over on business, but not agency business, Inspector. He had to take care of some matters dealing with his late father's estate."
"And that would be Daniel Chalmers. Solicitors Smythe, Paddington and Hyde, correct?" the inspector consulted his notebook.
"Correct." Laura hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell the inspector of Rem's association with Columbini. Wondering if what she said would help or hurt her husband. She glanced over at Mildred and the older woman shook her head slightly. Laura stalled. "Mr. Steele has accumulated many enemies over the years, of course. Any one of them could have followed us from the States."
"Could you compile a list for us? It would aid in our investigation until Mr. Steele wakes up and can tell us more."
"Of course." Laura directed her next question to the doctor. "So you expect him to regain consciousness soon?"
"'Soon' can be such a relative term. I'm sorry I can't be more specific than that. He may have one visitor at a time." the doctor gave Mildred a pointed look. "You can decide among yourselves who will stay with him now."
"You stay, honey-" Mildred said, putting her arm around Laura's shoulders and squeezing. "I'll check us into the hotel and unpack. He needs you here-" the older woman's voice cracked with emotion. "But if he wakes up on your watch, tell him I'll be here later-and tell him-" now Mildred's voice failed her.
"I will, Mildred." Laura knew what Mildred wanted to say. She loved Remington like a son and she was as worried about him as Laura was. Suddenly Mildred leaned down to kiss Remington on the cheek and smoothed back the dark hair from his forehead as a mother would do. Laura felt tears spring to her eyes at Mildred's sweet gesture.
"Come back to us, Boss. We need you-" the secretary whispered. After one last squeeze of Laura's hand, Mildred left the room along with the inspector.
"Mrs. Steele, please continue talking to him, even though you think he can't hear you. Your voice just might bring him back." The doctor said, glancing over at Remington. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully now with no sign of more nightmares. "He has quieted down, it seems. But, if he wakes up, please call me or the nurse."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"I must be on my rounds. I'll check back in two hours. Perhaps we will have more information about the drug by then." The doctor left the room. Laura stood by the bed and gazed down at her husband. God, why hadn't she noticed how pale his face was before? The contrast between his pallid color and his raven black hair was pronounced now. Even his eyelashes were stark against his cheeks. She took his hand and leaned over to brush her lips across his dry lips.
"Come on, Mr. Steele. Mildred's right. We do need you. Yes, even I'm admitting it-the impossible woman who wears her independence on her sleeve. Oh, Rem-we have so many things to do yet. I know I don't admit this often, but -" she lifted his hand to her lips. "You are my life now. The agency is still important to me, but the life I share with you-" tears started to fall as all of her love for him bubbled up inside her. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved this man. Her earlier fears that she would lose herself in him held no power over her now. Remington did not try to change her. He accepted her as she was-and loved her as she was. That was the greatest gift he could have ever given her. "I can't even imagine my life without you in it now. Please, Rem, I need you by my side."
Laura continued to talk and cry until her tears were all spent. She dragged the only chair in the room over to Remington's bed and sank down into the cushions. Still holding his hand, she leaned her head back. Jet lag, too many late nights and worry finally took their toll on Laura. She dozed off into a restless sleep.
His eyes raked over her body, assessing her frankly. Laura wore nothing but a blanket of red, pink and yellow rose petals. Remington leaned over and blew the petals from her breasts, then his mouth trailed down her abdomen, scattering the flowers, until he reached the core of her pleasure. He felt Laura shiver under his ministrations and he extended his tongue to gently nip at her. Now she was writhing on the bed as her passion rose, heading for a crescendo. Now she was screaming his name in a plea for help. Suddenly the scene changed. Remington watched in helpless terror as Columbini tortured his beloved wife, his ever present cigar burning holes in Laura's skin. She screamed with the pain, but he could do nothing to stop the Shadow.
Laura awakened to a fierce tugging on her hand that also nearly took her arm out of its socket. Remington was thrashing around on the bed, obviously in the throes of another harrowing nightmare.
"Rem? Remington?" Laura leaned over, hoping he would hear her and wake up. But the nightmare continued to hold him in its horrendous grip. His flailing hands punched her in the eye with such force that Laura was momentarily stunned. When she realized she could not handle this situation, Laura reached up and stabbed the call button for the nurse. She circled the bed and found some ice in a Styrofoam cup on the bedside table. Laura dug out a cube and placed it on her swelling eye. The nurse appeared and immediately assessed the situation. She prepared a syringe and gave Remington a shot in the arm. Almost at once his thrashing stopped and he seemed to fall once again into a peaceful sleep.
"What happened, ma'am?" the nurse now noticed Laura's bruised eye.
"It's nothing. He hit me when he was thrashing around. Isn't there anything more you can do for him other than give him a sedative? I can't stand watching him in the throes of a nightmare from which he can't wake up." Laura was near tears. She would give anything to stop these horrific dreams from torturing Remington. God only knew what the nightmares contained.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Not until we know what the hallucinogen was. Do you want a doctor to look at your eye?"
"No. Really, I'm fine."
"If the sedative starts to wear off or he wakes up, call me."
The nurse left the room and Laura sank down into the chair again. What was he dreaming, she thought as she gazed at her husband. Had the drug taken him back to the streets of Brixton-a young boy, unwanted-unloved, scrounging for any scraps of food he could find? Picking pockets for a few quid to pay for a place to sleep. Hiding in movie theaters and watching other people's lives so far removed from his own, longing to enter their world. She ached for the small boy still buried deep in the soul of her husband and Laura reached out to smooth back his dark hair from his forehead.
What was he dreaming? Had the drug taken him forward-to a confrontation with Columbini? Was he in the Shadow's clutches, struggling to remove himself from whatever torture the Shadow's warped mind had devised for him before he killed the man he knew as Paul Fabrini? Laura shivered at the thought and she started to talk to Remington again as much to calm her nerves as to establish a connection with him.
"I'm here, Rem. We'll handle this situation with Columbini like we handle everything- together. We're a team, remember? An unbeatable team." She continued to murmur reassurances to him until fatigue overtook her again and she slept, more peacefully this time.
"Laura?" In the netherworld between sleep and wakefulness, Laura thought she was dreaming that someone was calling her. Then she heard the voice again along with a weak tug on her hand. "Laura?"
Her brown eyes fluttered open-to look into a pair of still slightly hazy midnight blue ones and a beloved face creased with a crooked smile.