Chapter 3

Mildred and Laura watched as the doctor examined the chart in his hand, moved around the bed and checked various monitors. It had been three days and there had been very little visible change.

"We'll be takin' the tube out shortly."

"Will he wake up soon, then?" Laura asked, heart in her throat. She'd give anything to see him open his eyes.

"We'll gradually lift the sedation. Everyone responds differently."

Laura exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"He's not out of danger, you see. But he's healing as well as can be expected with an injury of this kind." He made notes in the chart. "As serious a chest wound as it is, it were the blood loss that nearly did him in. A few more minutes and –" he trailed off, no doubt because he'd noticed the horrified look on Laura's face. "Anyway, he was very lucky to have your Ladyship by his side." He closed the chart and addressed Laura directly. "The pressure you kept on his chest stemmed the blood loss just enough."

Laura's eyes stung and she barely heard the rest of his revelation. "You saved his life, lass."

She felt Mildred's steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Now, there's an officer outside who'd like to talk to ye."

The women walked out together, the welcome news buoying their steps all the way to the ICU waiting room.

When Laura and Mildred reached the designated area, they were met by a garda waiting just inside. Through the glass they could see a bevy of reporters, all clamoring to get a glimpse and an interview.

"They're still here?" Laura asked as they were shuffled into a vacant office.

"Bloodhounds wanting a statement, no doubt" Mildred shot a scowl at the closed door. "We have been rather close-lipped about the whole thing."

"If you'll take a seat, your Ladyship, won't be but a few minutes." The officer extended his hand. "Me name's Patrick Flynn. Here to take your statement."

"You didn't have enough witnesses readily available at the castle?" Laura asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. She could only imagine what the news reports were saying about a reputable American detective being shot on Irish soil. She supposed she should make an effort to find out so she could release a statement to refute whatever questionable 'facts' they'd uncovered.

"More rounded report if we can get your statement, Mrs. Steele." The man smiled congenially and readied his notepad and pen.

Mildred settled into an uncomfortable chair and rubbed her hands together. "Happy to add a nail to an already riddled coffin, Officer."

Laura sat down slowly. "Where would you like us to start?"

Laura leaned back and rubbed her eyes as the door snicked shut behind the officer.

"That wasn't as easy as I expected it to be," Mildred offered with a yawn and a stretch. "Or as fun."

"It never is when it's someone you –" Laura trailed off hoping Mildred understood that when she said those words out loud for the first time, someone else needed to be the one to hear them. "Well, it's easier when it's not someone you're close to."

"I understand."

And Laura was sure that she did.

Mildred leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Never one to beat around the bush – and always the one to plow through it, she continued, "Listen, hon, the news of this has probably hit the papers in Los Angeles."

"Probably." Los Angeles was the very last thing on her mind right now.

"Well, shouldn't we have some kind of statement ready? You know – assure Mr. Steele's adoring public that he's still alive and kickin'?"

"Yes, we probably should," Laura said as she stood to make her way back to his side. Make sure he was still alive and kicking. She gasped suddenly and turned wide, horrified eyes on the older woman. "Frances! Mother!" The seat rocked beneath her as she sat down heavily and fumbled with the phone. "Oh God they don't even know about the wedding."

"No one knows about the wedding, Mrs. S."

"Keys did. Gladys Lynch does." Laura dialed quickly and then dropped the phone back into its cradle. "And don't you think it's time we were on a first name basis?"

The astonished look on Mildred's face would have been amusing at any other time. "Oh, I don't think that would be right. Mr. Steele would never-"

"I'm not my husband." She reached across the desk and squeezed Mildred's hand. "It's Laura."

It was too bad she couldn't share in the pure joy that raced across the older woman's face. She was too worried about making that phone call. She checked her watch. "What time is it in Los Angeles?"

Mildred glanced at her own watch. "About six am?"

Laura winced. "She'll be up." She hesitantly lifted the phone and eyed it like the harbinger of loud, disbelieving reproach it would soon be. Slowly, she dialed and while the foreign dial tone buzzed in her ear, Mildred stood.

"I'll take over another office and pick up the Agency's messages, see if I can smooth over some ruffled feathers."

Laura nodded, more grateful than ever that Mildred was here to take care of the mundane tasks she'd made herself so invaluable in accomplishing so adeptly over the last four years. "Let me know if-" she winced as the phone connected. "Hi, Frances."

Mildred gave a little hurried wave slipped out just as the woman on the other end of the phone realized to whom she was speaking.

"Laura!? Oh my God! What's going on? Where are you? We read in the papers- is it true? It can't be true! You would have told us. Wouldn't you? Laura? Say something!"

The decibel level rose high enough that Laura had to hold the phone away from her head until the sound died down to a more manageable level.

With an exasperated huff, Laura interrupted the tirade. "If you'd just be quiet and listen, I will!"

The sudden silence shocked her into wondering if the line had gone dead.

"Now then. Calmly. What have you heard?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as Frances began again. Quieter but no less lengthy.

"The Tribune has run the story for the last two days. Front page of the entertainment section. It's even been a lead story on Spotlight news. No one can get through to the agency. I've tried you at home. No answer. Donald even went to your loft but no one was home."

Laura held up her hand as if the woman were right in front of her rather than a continent away. "Frances please. Stop. We're in Ireland on – well, on personal business. Mr. Steele inherited some property and was injured due to a - feud with the original owner. Yes, he's in the hospital. Yes, it's fairly serious. No, he's not dead. No, I don't know when we'll be back."

Laura was rather proud how she hadn't completely lied yet. Just withheld the more – intimate details. She took another deep, calming breath.

"And I know there isn't anyone answering the phones at the office. Mildred is here with us. She's been an invaluable help."

Mildred slipped back in, pad of paper in hand.

"Listen Frances, I have to go. We'll go out to dinner when I get back. Give mother a call to let her know everything is fine will you? I don't want to tie up the phones too much in the hospital." Laura didn't need to look at Mildred to see the disapproving look on her face. "Love you. Give my love to Donald and the kids. Bye."

Laura's head sank into her hands as the phone receiver hit its cradle.

"Didn't tell her about the wedding, huh?"

She felt quite the coward. But that really wasn't something she wanted to discuss over the phone. Though, on second thought, at this distance might be the best way to break it to her mother and Frances that she'd not only gotten married but that they hadn't even been invited. "Not over the phone."

Laura lifted her head and motioned to the pad of paper Mildred held in her hands. "What's the damage?"

"Lots of people inquiring about Mr. Steele. A few potential clients."

"Did you return any of them?"

"Not a one."

"We'll have to issue a statement. Who do we know and trust in Los Angeles? We'll give them an exclusive." Laura didn't have to think long before she remembered her favorite radio personalities. "Bud Tyler and Norm Austin at KROT. We'll send it to them."

Mildred flipped the page on her notepad and positioned the pen over it.

"Eminent detective Remington Steele is resting comfortably in an Irish hospital after sustaining a gunshot wound inflicted in a crime currently under investigation by the Dublin Metropolitan Police.

Information is sketchy due to the gag order surrounding those involved but this reporter obtained an exclusive from the Remington Steele agency thanking well wishers and assuring them the crack investigative team will be back to work in no time."

There was more but Laura knew what it said. She'd written it. At least the initial copy. The accompanying photo was a few years old and she'd have liked to have seen a more recent one but it would have to do. It wasn't as if he had a bad side. The camera loved her Mr. Steele. Always had. She imagined there would be one heck of an uproar as soon as news of their marriage surfaced. If luck was on their side, and it usually wasn't, it wouldn't leak and they would have the chance to issue their own announcement; complete with a picture of the happy couple.

Laura set the newspaper aside and leaned forward to clasp his hand and spoke to him as if he were awake and listening. "That wasn't too bad, I suppose. They reworded our statement. Probably not sensational enough for them, but, it could have been worse." A wry grin twisted her lips into a frown. "They could have found out about the wedding."

She rubbed the soft skin of his hand, careful to avoid the IV line, and squeezed gently once she got to his fingers. "That is an announcement we can work on together." She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm; held his fingers curled around her cheek. "Because I'll be damned if I have to face my mother and sister alone. If I have to suffer, so do you."

There was no answer, but she didn't expect there to be. Just the whirring and blinking of various pieces of medical equipment she'd learned more about in the last few days than she ever wanted, or needed, to know. "They tell us you're healing but I can't tell the difference."

That wasn't quite true, she admitted to herself when she felt strong enough to shake off the depressing gloom that clung even to her dreams. His coloring was better; not so pale. And the doctors were more encouraged each time they stopped in. They even took out the breathing tube while she was artfully dodging her sister's more pointed questions. So he was expected to wake on his own in a few hours.

An exuberant Mildred popped in and for the hundredth time since this nightmare began, Laura was grateful for the older woman's presence.

"I got it!" Mildred lifted her hand and waved the document.

Laura blinked at her for a moment. There were far too many things Mildred was working on for her to possibly guess which - but then she really took note of the spring in her step, the triumphant look on her face. Her heart did a little wibble. It couldn't be. Not so quickly.

Mildred shuffled forward. "Didn't take long, either. Once I got through the gatekeepers. Secretaries," she snorted, nose in the air. "Evil little bats take it upon themselves to roadblock everything important."

Laura chuckled and didn't even bother to ask any questions or comment on the pot calling out the kettle. Her secretary would get to the answers - eventually.

"That letter Mr. Chalmers wrote really broke through the red tape. I had the British Embassy eating out of my hands by the time I was done." There was a disappointing set to her mouth. "I'm glad the Chief found out before he read it. It was a coward's way out of telling his son the truth."

An astute observation and one in which Laura could not disagree. She'd actually confronted the man and told him the same to his face. Something she now regretted because they had ended up being the last words she'd ever said to him. "So – "

Mildred waved the document in her hand. "With what little information we had, they were able to track down a few baby boys born in Ireland around the right time. One died in infancy, two others whose mothers died went – unnamed."

Laura grinned ruefully. "All that time he spent searching for a name to give me as proof of his commitment and he didn't even have one to give."

"It's not his fault."

Laura smiled at the woman who, even after learning her husband's secret, still defended him with the ferocity of a pit bull over a favorite bone. "No. It's not." She indicated the document. "So what did you come up with?"

"Oh! Right! So – taking what little facts we knew, they duplicated the birth certificate for that unnamed baby boy. Born in Ireland. September 1952. They just added Mr. Chalmers. And, well," she continued with a firm, "his name."

Mildred relinquished the document and Laura admired the official seal. A finger traced over the printed name as Mildred sidled up beside her.

"The name's okay, right? It's what we discussed."

"Mildred." Laura hugged the woman tightly as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. "It's perfect."

"I think the Chief'll be happy, too."

"Deliriously happy. Life is good." The voice was weak, raspy. He cleared his throat and choked back a groan of pain. "Except when I've been shot."

The women whirled fast enough to give themselves whiplash and were greeted by narrowed eyes squinting in the crisp starkness of the room.

"Boss!"

"Mr. Steele!" Laura's startled gasp surprised them all. She was at his side in an instant, clutching at his hand, lips trembling with excitement. Laura leaned in to kiss him gently and she was encouraged when his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

He didn't speak again, just focused so intently on her that she almost forgot the other woman in the room.

"I'm just gonna-" Mildred patted his hand and backed away.

With difficulty, Laura wrenched her gaze from his. "Mildred, you don't have to-"

"- pick up messages. They're coming in fast and furious now. I'll be back later with updates."

Laura felt a twinge of guilt as Mildred made her escape. They were a team. Both of them as much a part of Mr. Steele's life as the other. But she was grateful the older woman understood the need for their reunion to be private. There was so much she had to say, but for now, she just wanted to look at him; at his mercifully open and beautiful blue eyes - even lowered in apparent misery. They were open and that's what mattered. She clutched his hand between her own.

"Pain?"

Even the faint wave of an IV'd hand didn't escape her scrutiny. "Just a little thing called breathing." The glib response set off warning bells.

"Let me get the doctor."

His grip on her hand prevented her from going far.

The hungry way his eyes swept over her was enough to send a tingle straight down her spine. "Stay."

"You're sure?" She wasn't and she couldn't trust his drug-induced judgment at the moment either. In hopes of steadying her trembling hand, she reached up to touch his cheek, brush back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

"Just sit." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "And tell me what happened?"

Laura frowned. He didn't need to hear about that right now. And she imagined the look on her face gave away her hesitation.

"Do I need to turn on the telly?" He indicated the small box in the corner of the room.

She shot him a defiant look. "I'd like to see you try."

Dramatic to the core, he made motion to get up but gasped the moment he tried to shift even so much as an inch in any direction.

Laura clenched the fingers of her free hand in frustration.

But he didn't give up. "Lauraaa."

She pursed her lips and looked away from that intense gaze, the pouted lips and dimpled cheeks. She raised a finger and tried to appear stern. "That's not always going to work, you know."

He gave her a toothy smile and tugged her closer so that she'd lean forward and give him another kiss. She complied and if her mouth lingered a little long against his, neither complained.

She resumed her seat with a sigh. "Those Miners you fell in with the last time you dealt with the Earl."

"Took exception to my pricey inheritance, did they?"

"The brother of one of the men serving a life sentence thought an assassination would satisfy his desire for revenge."

He took a deep breath, hissed through the pain with clenched teeth. "Came close."

She squeezed his hand. "Too close."

He arched his neck at the document clutched in her hand.

"W'as that?" His words slurred, a clear indication that their discussion was nearly at an end. She'd known his first waking moments would be brief.

Laura glanced down at the birth certificate. "Just a little something you've been looking for." She held it up so he could read it.

"A birth certificate?"

"Yours."

The confused look on his face brought a bright smile to hers.

"You're legal now."

If he only knew what those dimples, when he smiled, did to her insides. "What a - foreign concept."

She watched as he re-focused his eyes a few times to read the officially stamped certificate. Suddenly nervous about making such a deeply personal decision without his input, her heart beat a rapidly uneven tattoo against her ribcage.

"I hope its okay. I wanted to get it before you woke up. We can change the name if you don't-"

The wonder in his eyes when he lifted them to look at her was echoed in the emotionally-laced timber of his voice. "It's me."

She slowly exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and squeezed his hand. "It's you."

How much she missed that familiar quirk of his eyebrow. "Harry?"

She shrugged. Of the four, that was the one she'd agonized over. "It's followed you all this time, I figured there had to be a reason why."

"Remington Daniel Harrison Steele." He said. A test, she figured, to see how it sounded aloud.

She smiled warmly. "It's you."

His eyes fluttered shut and a contented smile spread across his face. She felt the weak squeeze of his fingers in hers as he whispered, "It is."

TBC

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