Jewel of Steele

Part Thirteen

by Lisa Ann Richardson

A Remington Steele Round Robin
copyright 1998 by the Remington Steele Chatboard

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely a work of fiction and is in no way associated with REMINGTON STEELE, MTM, the actors...yaddah, yaddah, yaddah...we all know the drill. This is purely a bit of fun for the latenight RS Chatboard crowd.

Laura sat up, feeling physically and emotionally drained. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she walked into the bathroom. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she recoiled in horror. Staring back at her was a devastated, tearstained face of a child, not the face of the confident, sarcastic woman she had become accustomed to seeing in recent years. Her heart was drowning in self-pity and betrayal...and exhaustion.

Stormy brown eyes stared back at her. A slow burn was working its way up from her gut to her very heart. Laura was never one to indulge in self-pity, she wasn't about to start now. She was sick of walking around looking like Night of the Living Dead. Her hand dropped to her abdomen.

/Damn me! Damn you, Dad! Damn both of us! If I teach this kid anything, it will be to not get swept up in old guilt!/

Crimson lips curved in a smile. That slow burn in her heart was turning into a fire of indignant anger. Laura was tired of crying. She had never had much use for tears; they had never done her any good except to leave her vulnerable. Anger was a nicer feeling that self-pity. She could live with anger. She splashed some cold water on her face. Remington was out there busting his tail to do whatever he could to make sure she wasn't hurt in any of this. He shouldn't have to. Nor should she.

/I love you, Rem, for just feeling like you've got to be Sir Lancelot on a white horse, but it's time for me to come back to planet Earth./

Neither of them had started this, but she was damn well going to finish it. A light was on in the living room. Laura smiled, ready to go with him in fighting form. Nobody played Laura Holt-Steele like this, including her father. /Well, girl, it's safe to say the bitch is back!/ Walking out the bedroom, she grinned. Murphy had jokingly coined that phrase for her one day after she told a client to shove it.

"Remington?"

"No Mrs. S. Just me." Mildred was sitting there with a cup of coffee. "How ya feelin', hon?"

"Like myself, thank you." She returned the older woman's hug. "Umm...where's Remington?"

Mildred shrugged. "I dunno kiddo. He left as soon as I got here and he told me to stay here to keep an eye on ya. Said he was worried somebody was going to try something."

Laura nodded. Her stomach felt incredibly empty and Junior didn't deserve the treatment she had been giving him/her for the past few days. "Say Mildred, I'm pretty famished. I'm going to fix me and the littlest Steele something to eat. Can I get you something?"

The portly woman shook her head in wonderment. Mr. Steele had said Laura was devestated by something her father had done to her, but right now, Laura looked for all the world like a contented mother-to-be...except for one thing. Her eyes. They were not brimming over with their usual lust for life, nor were they filled with sadness. Laura's eyes were clear and diamond-bright. Mildred almost shivered. If she was more poetic, she might have said Laura looked like Scarlett O'Hara going to save Tara from the Yankees. As it was, all she could think was that Laura looked like a woman on a mission from God.

Remington glanced up into his rearview mirror. The car was getting closer. He could barely make out the figure in the car, but he could say the person was tall by the looks of it. Gritting his teeth, he resisted the urge to gun the car. Keeping the speed even, he changed lanes. The other car followed in suite.

/God, Laura. I hope you're alright./

Truthfully, he was worried sick about Laura. She needed to snap out of it. If not for herself, if not for him, then at least for the baby.

"Ung..." He was pulled out of his revery as the other car bumped him. "Bloody hell!" Remington pushed the acclerator down hard, kicking up his speed. He knew they were going around this curve way too fast, but he was damned if this bugger was going to get the satisfaction of scaring the hell out of him. He turned the wheel to the left; tires began to squeal and rubber started to burn. He turned the steering wheel in the direction of his skid and tried to pull out. He saw the other car flip.

Laura and Mildred sat eating a small meal of sandwiches and fruit. Laura grinned, feeling happy for the first time since she could remember. "I know it's not gourmet, but Rem can cook and I can't."

Mildred chuckled. "It's fine, hon. A lot of that stuff is too rich for me anyway." She looked down for a second, unsure of saying anything. "Laura, do you mind if I ask you something?"

The younger woman nodded her permission.

Mildred took a deep breath, trying to gather her nerves. "Well...it's just that-I mean, the boss said you and your dad-"

Her words died on her lips as Laura's eyes narrowed in anger. "Never mind."

A warm pressure on her hand. Laura squeezed Mildred's hand tightly. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just angry about what happened. Let's just say my father and I have met each other once again and he screwed me over."

Mildred's sympathetic glance offered her a chance to have some relief for her turbulent emotions. Laura felt her tongue loosening as she started at the beginning...the real beginning. She had never really talked to anyone about her father, not even Remington. Her own mother had never wanted to hear her feelings on the situation, but Laura looked to Mildred as more of a mother than her own mother.

Mildred sat there patting her hand and exorcising her demons. She handed Laura the file of information on Laura's father Mr. Steele had had her go digging after. Either way, the old lady knew Laura deserved and needed closure. And damn if she wasn't going to help the closest thing to a daughter she had ever known.

A gloved hand pushed its way over the balcony...

**********

Remington hit the brakes hard, thanking God for whomever had had the foresight to invent anti lock breaking systems. Miraculously, the car stopped withot flipping or crashing. He stepped out of the driver's seat, inhaling the scent of burning rubber. Running towards the other car, he debated whether or not to call an ambulance.

/Easy mate, let's see if anyone needs help first./

He bent down, looking into the car. Swallowing, he stared. He recognized the man He was an old friend of Felicia and his. Well, a friend of Felicia and someone who disliked him, to be exact. Jimmy Taylor.

Felicia must have paid him good to follow them. Good old-fashioned Irish anger swept through him like Brian Boru's army at Ballyhara. This had to end. Felicia could never be fully trusted and now she had graduated to the ranks of murder, attempting to murder him...and his wife. This stopped...tonight!

He went back to the car to call for an ambulance and to get in touch with the person who had started this whole circle.

"Yeah. No, it doesn't surprise me. She had threatened to kill both of you if I didn't meet her in Paris. Where do you want me to meet you?"

Carlton Holt switched the receiver to his right ear. Remington's voiced crackled over the line. "Meet me at the airport. We're getting the necklace and finishing this once and for all. I'm not having Laura lose the baby because of this stress---and I'm not losing Laura. You have a half hour to get there or I'm getting the cops on your butt so fast it will make your bloody head spin."

The other line went dead.

The older man ran a hand through his graying brown hair. His son-in-law sounded like he had been stretched to the limit; not that he couldn't understand why. Guilt pressed on his heart and he remembered the look Laura had given him in the warehouse. He had never meant to involve her in this.

No, that wasn't completely true either. Carlton Holt stared out the window as he waited for a cab. Of all the traits daughter had inherited from father, none was stronger than the basic innate honesty which forced both to see things for what they were rather than what they wished it could be.

/Who the hell am I kidding? If I didn't really want to involve Laurie in this, I would have found another detective agency to go through the minute I found out she worked for Steele. I should've known. God forgive me, what did I ever do to deserve her adulation? I've been the worst father in the world./

He thought about all the times she probably had needed him and he hadn't been there because he couldn't get along with Abigail. He wasn't cut out for married life, never had been; and Abby had tried to turn him into Ward Cleaver rather than let him keep his military career. Abby wasn't a bad person and Carlon liked to think neither was he; they were each just too intent on having it their own way and had been too young to get married. The only bright things to come out of his marrige to Abigail had been Frances and Laura...especially Laura. She had been the one most like him: headstrong, independent, and a dreamer, always looking to the horizon and pushing on.

He had killed that part of her. He had killed it the day he left.

/I thought I was doing the right thing, Laura. You didn't need a father who was falling into a bottle because he didn't want to deal with the fact that he wasn't the perfect husband and could barely stand living in a Stepford house."Dammit!/

That was a lie too. He had never been an alchoholic. The officers' bar was just a place to escape from Abigail's constant attempts to push him into his responsibilites. At the time, he had thought about taking Laura with him when he left. Then it could be just the two of them and everybody would be happy. He'd have his little ray of sunshine, Abby would have her perfect little girl in Frances, and everybody lives happily ever after. But no, he couldn't face the idea of the responsibility of being saddled with a sixteen-year-old girl.

/Face it Carl, you loved being Laura's hero, you just didn't want the work that came with it. You still don't./

The truth stabbed him like a knife in his back. Well, apparently it had been for the best. Laurie was happily married to a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on, had plenty of friends, a thriving career, and a child of her own on the way. It was more than he had ever had at her age; hell, it was more than he had now. Carlton Holt grabbed his jacket. Once this was over, he was out of here. He felt a stab of regret at what he had put Laura through, at what he was going to put her through, but he didn't want to face up to the past---or the future. It was better for everybody that way. Laura wouldn't need to know about his less-than-stellar past either. He laughed bitterly as he closed the door. Abby had the girls, Laura had Steele, and he had nobody. And he had done this all by himself! What an absolutely stunning accomplishment!

To be continued...

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