Moment of Steele

Author's note: This is kind of a continuation of "Roses, Lilacs, and Steele," but is a standalone story as well. Enjoy!

Laura curled her feet beneath her as Remington lowered the lights and poured two glasses of champagne. As she took it, she laughed softly, and Remington sat down, his expression curious. "What's so amusing?"

"Just remembering the first time you and I drank champagne together - Murphy was so surprised the next day, kept insisting that I didn't even *like* champagne."

Remington smiled as well. "Really? I never knew that."

"I suppose it depends on the company," she told him.

"Ah." He pulled her against him, both facing the fire. "Now. Where were we?"

"You were going to tell me about your first meeting with Daniel Chalmers," she reminded him. "And you're not going to weasel out of it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he insisted. He rested his head on her hair, his arm around her waist. "I'd been on my own for several years, living wherever I could find a warm place, stealing what little food I could from the shops. Brixton wasn't an easy place for anyone to live in - especially a scrawny little Irish lad with a hair trigger temper and no trust of anyone. But I still felt I was better off there than with my 'cousins' back in Ireland, so I learned the tricks of survival quickly."

"What tricks?" she asked.

"Lifting wallets, mostly. Charming people into giving me a handout - even convinced the owner of a run down old theatre that showed old movies to give me a back room in return for sweeping the place out every day. It gave me a safe place to keep out of the way of the gangs that roamed the area looking for fresh talent - I didn't want to be part of a gang. I was going fine on my own, surviving, anyway, and had no desire to get into some of the things they were into."

"Drugs?" Laura questioned.

"Drugs. Most of them ran them for the crime bosses. Quick money, easy job, but I'd seen too many strung out losers in my time, I suppose. I'd seen what those drugs could turn a person into, and it wasn't pretty."

"Where does Daniel come into this?"

"I'm getting to that. Besides, who's telling this story?"

Laura settled back against him once again. "I'm listening."

"I told you that I picked a few pockets to get money - I always picked the best dressed man- the one who looked like he could afford to lose a few quid. Well, one day, I was hanging about in front of the theatre, looking for an easy mark - and then I saw him. Well dressed, smiling, with a wallet that was bulging full of money. I could see it in his pocket. I did a quick bump and run, grabbing the wallet, then turned and ran away, toward the back of the theatre. There was a second entrance there, but to use it, I had to climb a fire escape that led to an attic. I thought I'd made it, but the toff grabbed me by the ankles and hauled me down."

"Daniel?"

"Daniel," he confirmed.

**********

"I think you have something that belongs to me, young man," Daniel Chalmers said in a no nonsense tone of voice, his hand extended as the other kept a tight grip on the dirty little street urchin who'd lifted his wallet.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, guv'nor"," the boy insisted. "I was j-just-"

"Trying to escape with my wallet," Daniel said, reaching inside the worn and faded denim jacket to retrieve his property.

"'ere now. You got no right!"

Daniel looked at the young man long and hard. "You're not British."

The boy's blue eyes widened in fear that was quickly hidden, and he jerked his arm free. "Yes, I am."

"You're Irish, aren't you? What's your name, lad?"

"John Roby."

Daniel looked askance at his reply. "You don't look like Cary Grant. Shall we try again?"

"Why should I tell you my name? I don't even know yours."

"It's Daniel Chalmers, if you must know. Now, it's your turn."

"Philip Marlowe," he responded.

"You're not going to tell me your name, are you?"

"I just told you-"

"I go to an occasional movie myself, lad."

"You gonna turn me in?"

Daniel looked at him for a long moment. "No. No, I'm not. When's the last time you had something to eat?"

"Had a day old biscuit this morning -" he said.

"I meant a real meal. Where you actually sat down and ate at a table?"

"Why you askin'?"

Daniel sighed. "Because I think you need some meat on those bones of yours. You're entirely too thin. Where do you live?"

"Wherever I want," the boy replied.

"What about family?"

"Ain't got none. None that wants me, anyway."

"Not even back in Ireland? Did you run away from home?"

"Ran away from some so called cousins who said they wanted me, but all they wanted was free labour for their print shop - stole the wages I had comin' and stowed away on the ferry."

Daniel searched his face for a long moment, as if trying to see something. He seemed disturbed by what he found. Grabbing the boy's arm, he said, "Let's go."

"You're gonna take me to the coppers after all?" he asked.

"No. We're going to find you something to eat. And then see about getting you a decent place to stay."

"I'm ain't goin' back," the boy insisted, trying again to free his arm.

"I've no intention of sending you back," Daniel assured him. "At the moment, I haven't made any real plans past finding some food." They came out of the alleyway and Daniel blinked, allowing his eyes to readjust to the light. The boy tried to use the distraction as a chance for freedom, but Daniel's grip tightened. "Hold on, there, lad. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you."

"I've 'eard about toffs like you, comin' down 'ere to find a fancy boy -"

Daniel appeared shocked at the suggestion, then laughed softly. "Believe me, lad. I'm not looking for anything of that sort." The boy still eyed him warily as he entered the small cafe, but allowed himself to be led to the back, into a booth, where Daniel sat across from him. The waitress came up, giving Daniel a smile, then sending a wider one at the boy. "Mickey. I'm surprised to see you in 'ere."

Mickey glowered at the man across from him. "Didn't 'ave much choice," he said.

Daniel smiled. "Give the lad whatever he wants," he told the girl, who was obviously charmed by that smile and those blue eyes. "I'll pay for it."

Mickey's eyes widened at that idea, and he began ordering nearly everything on the menu before Daniel laughingly suggested they see if he could finish off that feast before ordering more. "What about you, guv?" the waitress asked Daniel.

"Just some coffee," he said. "I've already eaten lunch." Once she moved away, Daniel looked at the boy again, and sighed. "What was it she called you? Mickey?"

"For Michael. As in Michael O'Leary," he said, as if daring Daniel to call him a liar again.

"You've got a pocketful of names, don't you, lad?" Daniel asked as the waitress returned with his coffee and the first of the boy's food. "What's your real name?"

"Don't know. Don't know as I 'ad one," he said, busy chewing his food.

Daniel sat back and watched him devour plate after plate of food, occasionally meeting the young waitress' eyes. At last, he finished his coffee and started to rise. The boy looked up at him. "Just going to get a refill on my coffee, Harry."

That stopped him, leaving a forkful of food hanging in midair. "'arry?"

"Not 'arry, lad. *Harry*. With an 'H'. Can't go around calling you 'hey you', now, can I?"

"Harry," the boy said, as if trying it on for size. Finally he shrugged, stuffing the fork into his mouth. "One name's same as the others, I s'pose." Harry cleaned the plate, and watched as the toff spoke with Molly in low tones, handing over some of the money that was in that wallet. He wondered who the man was, where he'd gotten that kind of money. And what his angle was in befriending a dirty street kid who had stolen his wallet. Hadn't come by the money legally, most likely. If he had, he'd be in the hands of the bobbies by now.

"Are you ready for more?" Daniel asked, returning to the table.

"No. Can I go now?"

"Hold on." Daniel took his arm again to prevent him from getting up. "We've got to discuss how you're going to repay me for all that food."

Harry looked at him warily again. "I *knew* it. You *are* one of those aren't you? Well, guv, you've picked the wrong boy-"

"I meant how you could work for me to pay me back, Harry. Nothing else."

"Work? What kinda work?"

"That's what we have to discuss. Why don't we go back to my place - To talk. I can promise you more food there as well. And then I'll bring you back down here if it's what you want. You have my word."

"Don't trust people's word," Harry said. "Too many times they don't mean nothin'."

Daniel frowned. "Harry, I think you and I could help each other. You're a very talented pickpocket-"

"Not good enough to get away with yours," the boy muttered.

"Only because it's devilishly difficult to pick the pocket of someone who knows the ropes, Harry," Daniel said, smiling and nodding when Harry lifted wide eyes to him. "I started out the same way, Harry. And I can help you learn so much more than just lifting wallets - if you're game to try." Daniel sat back, releasing Harry's arm. "Of course, if you don't think you can do it -"

"What've you got in mind, guv?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued, as well as his inability to resist a challenge.

**********

Laura shook her head. "Why you, I wonder?" she asked.

"I've wondered that myself a time or two, then I just count myself lucky that he got me out of there alive. I was real handful in those days. Took him almost a year to clean me up enough to be able to work a con with him. To- smooth the rough edges, as it were. I owe a lot to Daniel, Laura. Almost as much as I owe to a certain lady detective," he said, pulling her across his lap.

"Hmm. Anyone I know?" Laura asked, tangling her fingers in his silken hair.

He appeared to consider her question. "I'm serious, Laura. I don't think I've thanked you for -"

"Mr. Steele-" Laura said, placing a finger to his lips, "you're talking too much."

He smiled and lowered his lips to hers, leaving the only sound in the room that of the fire crackling in the grate, blind to the two lovers intertwined in each others' arms.

The End


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