Remington Steele, Laura Holt and Mildred Krebs returned to Los Angeles from London the morning after the two women managed to get their “boss” a highly-questionable United States passport.  Apparently, it passed muster and the trio flew home.

Fred picked them up from the LA airport in the limousine and dropped Mildred at her home first.  As the car pulled away from the curb, Remington rather hesitantly asked Laura up to his flat for a drink. Despite her weariness, Laura accepted.  She was still anxious for answers to questions she hadn’t been willing to ask in front of the other woman.  Nodding, Steele directed Fred to his place.

Once in front of his apartment building, Steele leaned into the driver’s window.  “I’ll take her home, mate.  It’s late.  We’ll see you on Monday.”  The driver nodded as Steele tapped the roof twice.

Laura dumped most of her luggage into the trunk of the Auburn but held on to her carry-on for a change of clothes.  Remington had only a single bag with him.

After exchanging her sweater and skirt for jeans and a light blouse, she sat on the edge of his bed while he unpacked.  “I’m curious about something, Mr. Steele.”

“What might that be, Miss Holt?”  He hung up two shirts and a pair of slacks on the few stray hangers in his closet.  The rest he dumped into the laundry basket.

“Why did you have to take every single article of clothing in your condo with you to London?”

“I didn’t actually.  Most of them are packed up at Monroe’s place.”

“Why?”

Steele raked his fingers through his hair.  “Because, Laura, I didn’t know if I’d be back.”  Laura nodded as if she’d expected that answer, her expression suddenly disconsolate.

He sat next to her and took her hand.  “I told you in London that I was looking for who I am, my real name, so that I can give it to you.  If I didn’t find it--if I couldn’t give you something back--I didn’t think you’d want me.”

Laura squeezed his hand between hers and looked down.  “I came to you that night.  I came to tell you that I wanted to try to make it work between us.  That whatever we have … I’d rather have it than nothing at all.”

With great regret, he countered, “That doesn’t seem to be enough for either of us, Laura.”

“I know.”  She stood, letting go of his hand, and walked over to his window where she stared into the night sky.  “I know,” she repeated.  Once again, she berated herself for being frightened of the huge need she had for him, of the desire she had for him--of the love she had for him.

The man without a name watched the woman for whom his heart ached and wondered if they would ever be entirely together.  Those few weeks without her had been pure misery as every thought and dream swirled around her.  He had nothing to give her, nothing but a sack full of lies.  He’d hoped to give her one small, fundamental element of truth that perhaps they could build a relationship on--to no avail.

He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  “What would you have me do?” he asked.

She turned, blinking back tears, and put her arms around his neck.  “Don’t go.  I don’t need your name.  I know who you are.  I need you.”

Now he closed his arms around her and brought his head down until he could touch his lips to hers.  With a chaotic combination of desperation, joy and a deep abiding feeling that he’d yet to put a name to, he kissed her until she began to cry.

“Shhh, shh, don’t cry.  I’m here.”  He tucked her head against his shoulder and held her until the sobs subsided.  In the years he’d known her, this was only the second time he’d seen her dissolve into tears, and something in his being gave way as he understood the depth of her pain.  She cared.  A great deal more, apparently, than he thought.  “I’m here, Laura.  You came and got me, remember?”

She nodded and wiped her cheeks, grateful that the storm had passed, allowing her to regain her self-control.  “Is that the only reason you came back?  Because I found you?”

“Laura, I never wanted to leave in the first place.  I only wanted to prove that I was committed to you.”

“You don’t need to do that.  I don’t. …” she trailed off and looked away.  The truth was that she did need something to prove he was going to stay with her.  But neither of them knew what that might be.

“Yes, you do.  And we both know it.  Give me time, Laura, and I’ll find a way.”

She inadvertently gripped his arms hard.  “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Steele.”

“You do that, Miss Holt.”  He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her again, awakening the passion that floated just beneath the surface of her constant, cool façade.  But he stepped back from it when she might have given in.

“Mr. Steele, I … I wonder if I might ask a favor.”

“What’s that, Miss Holt?”

She glanced at the bed and then shook her head.  “Never mind.  I …uh … I need to get home.”

On impulse, he handed her the little tote she’d brought in.  “Change into something comfortable.  No tricks.”  He held up his hand.  “You’re staying here tonight.  I’ll take the sofa.”

If she didn’t have such a huge need to be near him, she might have said no.  But she didn’t.  Instead, she put on a camisole and boxer short set while he changed into similar shorts and a soft t-shirt.  She crawled underneath the covers of his bed, wishing he would hold her through the night.

He must have read her mind because he lay on the top of the covers and stroked her hair until he fell asleep.  And when he did, Laura eased out from under the sheets and retrieved the blanket from the sofa.  Covering both of them with it, she curled up next to him where she could breathe in his warm scent.

Sometime after that, Remington Steele discovered Laura Holt holding on to him in her sleep.  He wrapped his arms around her, knowing he would never let her go.



20 May 2009


Click here to read the continuation in "Steele's Fan Dance" ... a story set in the Diamonds of Steele universe.