Temporal Steele — Part 2
by
Chapter 4
"I'll be in Engineering trying to get all the systems restored."
As she rounded a corner, Chakotay joined her, heading in the same direction.
"I just spoke to B'Elanna," he began. "Apparently, there's some kind of radiation outside that's affecting the warp core."
"That's just the beginning."
Chakotay and Janeway entered Engineering. The room was in chaos. B'Elanna was at a console in front of the warp core punching at it with gloved hands and shouting orders. Each time a crew member touched a screen, a burst of white caused them to jerk away.
Over her shoulder, B'Elanna called, "Captain, I'm glad you're here. That radiation has found a way into the ship. The only way to safely touch the consoles is through the gloves from a survival suit, and even then I can't touch them for long. Voice commands are having no effect here."
Captain Janeway asked Chakotay, "Are there reports of this happening elsewhere on the ship?"
"No, Captain." He looked at a display, careful not to get too close to it. "The radiation appears to be attracted to the core."
B'Elanna said, "I'm doing everything I can think of. Vorek is in the Jeffries tubes isolating the Engineering circuitry just in case the radiation decides to spread. He should be back soon."
Chakotay turned to the captain. "So, what do we do?"
Captain Janeway raised her eyebrows.
"All we can do is gather more information for now. We'll eject the core if it comes to that."
Before her first officer could respond, Vorek returned. He greeted them as he walked over to B'Elanna.
She asked, "Done already?"
"Yes, Lieutenant. I have switched all power to Engineering to emergency backup, as well as rerouted all circuitry. Engineering is isolated."
"Good. See if you can get voice commands back online."
"Very well," Vorek intoned. He turned away and walked directly to an open console. As he touched it, a white bolt jumped from it, causing him to leap back.
B'Elanna smiled to herself.
"And don't touch anything without gloves," she called.
* * *
"I can't think of a thing to ask," she said aloud.
One slack arm slid from its resting place atop his chest and hung down, brushing Laura's knee as it swung. She replaced it gently and silently wished there had been some lecherous intent behind the touch. Then she could have let him have it. Or maybe, she thought, I could have just forgiven his solo foray into a very dangerous situation and fallen into his arms. At this idea, a question came to her.
"Do I infuriate, confuse, and confound you as much as you do to me?"
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"
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As she leaned down, she could smell him. Days of being drugged and probably worse had not changed his scent. Muskier, perhaps, but she liked that.
She jerked away. She hated that he had this effect on her, even when he was unconscious, but he was unconscious. He'd never know.
She leaned back down, gently brushing her lips against his. As she drew away, she had the impression that he moved. She studied him for a minute, then decided to kiss him again to find out.
She was definitely being kissed back, if only very slightly.
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"
"Why do you no, wait. If we ever Have youAre you going to" Laura threw up her arms in disgust. "Now I'm the one who can't make a commitment."
Just do it; just ask. He won't remember, she thought. I'm afraid of the answer. But am I afraid of a yes' or a no' ?
She spoke before she could talk herself out of it.
"Do you l"
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After hearing it repeated thrice more, his addled brain identified the speaker.
"Laura, it's you! Thank God you didn't find me before the police did. Then we'd both be"
He did not bother to finish his sentence. The words were in his head, but they weren't making it out.
He felt her stroke his hair. He heard, "You'll be ok," but couldn't decide if she said it or if he did or if he just got that general impression from the idea of Laura sitting with him, quietly holding his hand. He decided it didn't matter and squeezed her hand, though he could not tell if the impulse actually made it to his fingers.
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He couldn't do it. Pacing again, he asked himself why. He already knew her answer. He was worried about what he would do with confirmation from her own lips. He was scared.
So he paced. And he thought. Finally, he pulled the rusted chair over next to Laura, but he did not immediately sit. Hesitation overwhelmed him and he walked out of the room, leaving her unconscious and alone.
Remington Steele's face was blank as he opened the front door and stepped out. He took a deep breath as a wave of emotion hit him. Now he sat. The concrete steps were thick with dust and decaying leaves, but he did not try to brush the grime away. His first clear thought was that the setting matched his mood, his behavior, and his jumbled feelings. He leaned gingerly against the ancient iron railing, testing it. When it did not give way, he rested his head and shoulder against it and sighed.
"I'd like to ask myself a few questions with that truth agent," he muttered.
He knew why Laura had come here alone. Faced these people without backup. Without him.
Three weeks ago he had almost said it. She was there with him in his apartment. She had appeared at his door unannounced with a bottle of champagne. No case, no occasion, no date for dinner, and no explanation. It was raining, flashes of lightning threatening in the distance and getting closer. He had answered the door in his bathrobe.
"Laura! What a pleasant surprise." What an understatement, he thought. If that dress were any more
"Good evening, Mr. Steele."
"Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let her pass, his back almost touching the entryway wall. She took two steps, just enough to let the door close behind her. They stood there, inches apart, for a moment. He was not sure what to do, and his face betrayed it. His brow furrowed, but the corners of his mouth went up in amusement at the confusion and electricity of the moment. Then she walked past him.
"I'll put this on ice." She reappeared out of the kitchen a moment later with an ice bucket and two glasses.
"What's the occasion?" he asked as he headed to the bedroom to dress.
"There isn't one," she called after him. "It's after ten. You don't have to change on my account."
He poked his head out of the bedroom door, his face covered in the same confusion as when she came in. Bucket of champagne, fabulous dress, and she didn't mind if he stayed in his robe? What was she up to? He knew better than to hope, but he couldn't help it. He pulled on trousers and a shirt anyway.
When he opened the bedroom door, she was right there, pretending to study the framed movie posters she had seen a thousand times before.
"Laura? Is something wrong?" He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him.
His answer came as she drew him into a kiss. For a moment, he thought he should push her away and drag whatever it was out of her, but her kiss was so urgent and her scent so intoxicating that he couldn't do it. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her deeply, letting her draw him into this moment.
The kiss continued, and his arms were so close around her that all he had to do was lean back slightly to pick her up. Against every fiber of his being, he carried her to the sofa instead of the bedroom.
When he put her down, their lips finally parted. Each studied the other's eyes. She lifted her head to kiss him again. Before she could, he spoke.
"Laura, why don't we sit?" What was he saying?
She seemed startled by this. She sat down. He did not sit next to her. His brain was telling him this was not right, even if other parts of him were telling him to ignore his brain. He perched on the coffee table in front of her.
Neither said a word. They stared at their respective shoes, trying to figure out what to do next.
"I need a drink," she finally said.
"Amen to that," he said with as much of a laugh as he could muster while his mind raced and he tried to think rationally about what was happening here.
He popped the cork, letting the foam wash over his hand. He poured two very full glasses and handed one to Laura before taking a long drink. Why is she here?' and What is she up to?' changed to Why did I carry her to the sofa?' and Did she want me to carry her to the sofa?' along with an impulse he couldn't define. He chose to ignore this unknown impetus.
"Mr. Steele," she finally said.
He waited for her to continue, but she was silent.
"Yes, Laura?" He took her hands in his.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
She hesitated. "Carry me here instead of"
"Laura, I know you too well. Something is wrong."
She squeezed his hands and moved forward, her face once again very close to his. "Actually, it's not."
The confusion was back, but without the smirk. She went on.
"I realized something today."
"What was that?"
She said nothing. Her lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. She let go of his hand and picked up her glass. She drained it and he refilled it.
Quietly, she said, "I need you." A beat, then stronger, "I need you."
Nothing is wrong. She needs me. She said it. Now or never, Steele, he thought. Tell her.
"
"
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The concrete steps were thick with dust and decaying leaves, but she did not try to brush the grime away. Her first clear thought was that the setting matched her mood and her jumbled feelings. She leaned gingerly against the ancient iron railing, testing it. When it did not give way, she rested her head and shoulder against it and sighed.
Three weeks ago she had almost said it. She was there with him in his apartment. She had appeared at his door unannounced with a bottle of champagne. No case, no occasion, no date for dinner, and no explanation. It was raining, flashes of lightning threatening in the distance and getting closer. He had answered the door in his bathrobe.
"Laura! What a pleasant surprise."
Ditto, she thought, but you look a lot more than pleasant' in that robe.
"
"
Courage, Laura, she thought.
"I'll put this on ice." She reappeared out of the kitchen a moment later with an ice bucket and two glasses.
"What's the occasion?" he asked as he headed to the bedroom to dress.
"There isn't one," she called after him. Take a deep breath, Laura. "It's after ten. You don't have to change on my account."
He poked his head out of the bedroom door, his face covered in the same confusion as when she came in. Bucket of champagne, new dress she had spent days shopping for, and she didn't mind if he stayed in his robe? What else could he think? Give him every opening, she thought. He shut the door. She put her ear to it; she could hear him changing anyway.
When he opened the bedroom door, she was right there, pretending to study the framed movie posters she had seen a thousand times before.
"Laura? Is something wrong?" He touched her shoulder, turning her to face him.
Not a damn thing, she thought. She could not waste precious time talking now, so she gave him his answer physically. For a moment, she thought he was going to push her away, but she needed him so much right now that she could not let him do it. He gave in, wrapping his arms tightly around her, kissing her deeply. She pressed against him, relishing the feel of her body against his, overwhelmed by the release that her decision gave her.
The kiss continued, and his arms were so close around her that all he had to do was lean back slightly to pick her up. Oh my God, she thought. This is it. Release was replaced by excitement.
When he put her down, their lips finally parted. Each studied the other's eyes. She lifted her head to kiss him again. Before she could, he spoke.
"Laura, why don't we sit?" What was he saying?
She was startled by this. She was so involved in her feelings she did not realize where he had carried her. After glancing around, she sat down. He did not sit next to her. What had she done wrong? He perched on the coffee table in front of her.
Neither said a word. They stared at their respective shoes, trying to figure out what to do next.
"I need a drink," she finally said. The size of California, she added mentally.
"Amen to that," he said with a half-hearted laugh.
He popped the cork, letting the foam wash over his hand. He poured two very full glasses and handed one to Laura before taking a long drink. Her mind raced: It was her perfume. She had come on too strong. He had a woman hiding in the bedroom.
"Mr. Steele," she finally said. She stopped to consider her next sentence.
"Yes, Laura?" He took her hands in his. She wished his hands were anywhere else.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
She hesitated. "Carry me here instead of"
"Laura, I know you too well. Something is wrong."
She squeezed his hands and moved forward, her face once again very close to his. "Actually, it's not."
The confusion was back, but without the smirk. She went on.
"I realized something today." Thank you long rainy days, romance novels, and that rose you gave me in my office yesterday.
"What was that?"
She said nothing. Her lips parted in preparation to speak, but nothing came out. She let go of his hand and picked up her glass. She drained it and he refilled it.
Could she say it? What would he do? She decided to hedge her bet a little.
Quietly, she said, "I need you." A beat, then stronger, "I need you."
"
She didn't let him finish. She wasn't going to let him leave physically or emotionally right now.
"
She was wrong.
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Chapter 5
"As you all know by now, Voyager has encountered a wormhole. At this end, the wormhole has created gravimetric eddies which are holding us firmly in place. Nothing we have tried so far has been able to budge us. B'Elanna."
Voyager's chief engineer continued the briefing. "Yes, Captain. I've had the entire Engineering crew working doubletime. Now that we have voice control back, for the most part, the problem has become the radiation bursts. The Doctor assures me they aren't harmful to humanoids, other than giving an uncomfortable shock, but they are doing something to the warp core. What they're doing to the core isn't clear. I've got Vorek trying a few things to reestablish the warp field and get us out of here."
The captain rose before she spoke again, "Ok. Now for the question of where the wormhole leads. I have to commend Tom and Seven for keeping this under wraps. Go ahead, Mr. Paris."
"The more interesting question, as you know, Captain, is when the wormhole leads." He glanced around the table. "Because the where is Earth."
A collective gasp went out.
Oblivious to the shock and confusion on her crewmates' faces, Seven said, "Specifically, the wormhole terminates in the northwestern section of the United States sometime in the 1980s."
"How do you know that?" asked Chakotay.
Janeway added, "Yes, how? When I left you, you had it narrowed down to the twentieth century."
Tom rose and stood in front of the wall display.
"Since we couldn't narrow it down from our limited atmospheric sensor data, we launched a modified probe." He tapped the controls, bringing up an image of a sparse room. A dark-haired woman was sitting next to a table that contained an unconscious man whose face was partially blocked.
"We can only get this one angle, but it was enough."
Chakotay asked, "Are these images current?"
Tom answered, "Yes, sir. The woman's just been sitting there, apparently lost in thought."
"I don't see much here to indicate the year," stated the captain.
"You're not looking closely enough, Captain," Tom responded. "We may only be able to get one angle, but we can zoom in. First of all, there's the clothing. His collar is too narrow for this to be the 1970s, but it can't be any earlier. The file cabinet has only one label left on one drawer, and it says Fiscal Year 1969.' Then we got stuck."
"Correct," said Seven, moving to stand next to Tom. "However, if you look in the far corner of the room, there is a coin."
Tom finished, "It's shiny. Not worn, just dusty. And, thankfully, it's face-up." He focused the lens of the probe on it. "1983. For a coin to be in circulation and be in that condition, I'd put this between 1983 and 1987."
Chakotay said what they all were thinking,
"So, it's close, but no cigar. Again."
"It looks that way," sighed Tom.
A voice came over the com. "Vorek to Lieutenant Torres."
"Torres here. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Then go ahead." B'Elanna turned to the captain. "Vorek had an idea about how to get the warp field back up. We'll see if it works."
Vorek's voice came over the com once more.
"Establishing containment field. Re-initializing dilithium matrix. Generating warp field we have a stable field, Lieutenant."
Captain Janeway quickly gave Tom an order.
"Get us out of here, Mr. Paris."
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Torres," Vorek reported, "but the field has collapsed."
Tom had only gotten two steps, so he stopped and returned to where he had been standing. He glanced at the display and did a double-take.
"Captain, look!"
The man and woman had changed places.
"I can't hear what he's saying. Seven, adjust the volume."
"Yes, Captain."
The man had his back to them as the woman had, but could hear him whisper, "Laura, Laura, Laura."
That was enough to make the captain's eyes go wide.
Then the man turned and began to pace, saying with a sideways smile, "So much CS-12, so little time. What to ask, what to ask?"
Captain Janeway rushed forward to study the man's face as he paced.
"Rory?" she asked incredulously.
Chakotay inquired, "Captain, what's wrong? You sound like you know him."
"It's impossible, but he looks and sounds exactly like someone I knew long ago."
Chakotay addressed Seven. "Has the time changed?"
"Negative, Commander. The 1983 quarter is still there."
"Maybe he's an ancestor of your friend."
The captain's eyes had not left the display until now. She turned to face her first officer.
"The resemblance is uncanny, but you're right. There's no way it could be him." She shrugged. "Chalk it up to cosmic coincidence, I suppose."
Harry asked, "What happened? Why did they change places?"
B'Elanna touched her com badge.
"Vorek, whatever you did, do it again."
"Aye, Lieutenant."
A moment passed, and the people from the past resumed their initial positions, with him laid out on the table.
Vorek reported, "The warp field has collapsed."
B'Elanna responded, "I thought so." She turned to the group. "Here's the way I see it. We're mired at this end of the wormhole. The radiation is causing the warp field to destabilize, and every time it does, it affects the opposite end."
Chakotay continued the thought, "Since even a small change that far back could have massive consequences in our present, we have to make sure we get out of this wormhole's eddies with these two," he pointed at the screen, "in as close to their original timeline as we can get. We'll have to be careful not to disturb it any more."
B'Elanna looked worried.
"But Chakotay, before this briefing, we tried to re-establish the warp field dozens of times. Who knows what the original time line really is?"
The room was silent for a moment.
"I have an idea, Captain," said Harry.
"Please, Mr. Kim," said the captain, indicating that the floor was his.
"Tom and I could create holodeck characters of these two, based on information from what we can see and what they've said. Maybe we can dig up some more in the database. If we can learn enough about them, maybe we can predict what they would have done in their current situation."
"Do it, and have the Doctor help you with this CS-12 substance. B'Elanna, keep working on getting us moving, but stick to simulations until Tom and Harry have something."
Chapter 6
"
"Yes," came the slurred reply.
"You haven't said more than three words at a time to me since that night. You walked out, left me sitting in your apartment, then showed up at the office as usual. You went off on this case alone. If you were going to leave, I thought it would be physically, not mentally. I want an explanation."
"Can't hear you over the bandmake them stop"
Laura was not going to let herself be sidetracked, though this flight of fancy intrigued her. "Explain."
"Goldfinger theme on banjo"
She smiled.
"That's not what I meant." She stopped for a minute to stifle a laugh. "I meant, explain your behavior for the past few weeks."
"Bad fish"
Amazing, she thought. He's drugged to the gills and he still finds time to be a smartass. She wandered away from the table.
"Laura, don't leave me." His voice was clear.
She rushed back over.
"Are you coming out of it?"
"Canadian money irritates me" The slur had returned.
"I'll take that as a no'."
She walked away again.
"Laura!"
This time, she turned around, but did not waste the energy returning to his side.
"What now?"
"I want porkchops and applesauce."
"We'll see what we can do when you're up and around." So that's what he's been doing since that night, she thought. Brady Bunch reruns. She made a mental note to buy him a copy of every Cary Grant movie ever made to counteract this. Does that mean I forgive you, she wondered.
"Laura"
"What?" Reluctantly, she walked back over to him.
"What day is it?"
"Thursday."
He was silent again, but his eyes opened. They remained unfocused and glassy, yet seemed to be searching for something. Laura moved the chair so she could sit where he could see her. Eventually, his eyes found her.
"I'm sorry, Laura."
You really should be, she thought.
"It's ok. I forgive you. But I do want that explanation," she said gently.
"Laura, I can't thinkhead is spinning"
"Close your eyes. It'll just take time."
He did close his eyes, but only for a minute.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you mean?"
"After that night, I thought you'd hate me."
"Believe me, Mr. Steele, there were moments. I had a long time to think, what with you not speaking to me. I think I'm beginning to understand now, but I want to hear it from you."
"I don't know if I can explain." He brought one hand to his head and massaged his forehead. "My head is killing me."
"Mildred was worried sick, you know."
"Remind me to make it up to her."
"What about me?"
"You won't have to remind me." He moaned with the strain as he rolled over to one side. "Laura, help me sit up."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked as she put an arm around him.
"No, but my back is killing me. I need my own bed, not this glorified rack." He pulled Laura to him before she could let go. "Of course, your bed would work, too."
"If the offer still stands, that is."
"It might. Let's hear the explanation."
He kissed her gingerly. She leaned into him, forgiving him a little more with each touch. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how the glorified rack would feel
"Tell me," she whispered in his ear.
He stalled by kissing her neck, moving her collar aside to expose her shoulder.
"Laura," he whispered back, "I was scared."
She was desperately trying to listen. His hands were caressing her back, but he was still murmuring in her ear.
"You caught me off guard, but that was," he moved to nibble her ear, "very exciting."
"So what happened?" she breathed.
"I take it you want the truth."
She looked him in the eye. "Yes."
Remington Steele surprised her by not breaking her gaze. "I knew I would stay."
"Youyou what?" she gasped. This was not the explanation she was anticipating.
"You weren't expecting the truth, were you, Laura?"
"I don't know. I thought I was, but I wasn't expecting that."
"So, your place or mine?"
Laura tried to stifle a smile.
"What?" he asked.
"That will take a little time."
"Laura, a month ago I would havewhat's funny?"
She put a hand to his cheek and shook her head. "Do you have any idea where you are?"
He thought for a moment, but did not let her go. "Last I recall, I was in Hollywood. I was waiting for someone, so I took in a matinee of something. What was it?" He paused. "Well, whatever they gave me, it must have been strong if I can't remember that."
"You'll be ok."
She was still entangled in his arms when he drew her closer yet.
"I know." He moved his hands down her back, encircling her waist. "So, where are we?"
"Salem."
"Massachusetts or Oregon?"
"
"Better call Fred. It'll take him a while to get here, but I think we can pass the time."
"
He was glancing about looking for what little he had to take with him. Coming up with nothing, what Laura said finally registered.
"Two rooms?"
Laura disentangled herself and crossed the room to pick up her bag.
"You know, I would bet the agency that one of the reservations got lost.' Mildred knows very well that we've been fighting."
Steele eased himself down from the table.
"
The cab arrived shortly and delivered them to the hotel. Laura checked them in, and then they stepped into the elevator.
"Well?" he asked.
"One room. A suite on the top floor."
He nodded, shouldering her bag when they arrived at their floor.
A minute later, he tossed the bag onto the floor near the bed and Laura ushered him toward the bathroom to clean off four days' worth of grime, blood, and stubble.
"Laura?" he called.
"Right here."
"I could use a bandage or two," he said, studying his bruised shoulders and the needle marks in both arms.
"I'll see what I can do. Be right back."
He waited until he heard the elevator doors close to open wide the taps to fill the whirlpool. When it was full, he stripped off his trousers, started the jets, and eased his battered body into the water.
Laura returned and placed a bag of pharmaceuticals and a bag of hamburgers on the nightstand. She could hear the tub, so she walked into the bathroom to help him with his wounds and get him to eat something. The day had taken its toll. He was asleep, four days' growth still on his face.
She understood his exhaustion, but there was no way she could get into bed without him that night. She left her clothes in a pile and got in with him, careful not to wake him. Yet.
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* * *
"