That evening, the family returned to see how Laura and the baby were doing, this time with Laura's nieces and nephew.
"She squeezed my hand," Remington told them, with growing optimism, "This afternoon she squeezed my hand."
"But she still hasn't come to?" Abigail asked in concern.
"No," Remington acknowledged, a little less jubilantly, "But the doctor says it's just her body trying to replenish itself and that otherwise she's fine," he added hopefully.
"That's right," came Dr Barnett's voice from behind the group.
They turned amid murmured greetings.
"Mr Steele, I don't want to alarm you," Dr Barnett began, "But we'd like to take your baby off the oxygen. If you'll come with me to neo-natal, it's time to see if the littlest Steele can breathe by herself," she finished with an encouraging smile.
With a hand on Remington's shoulder and a slight nod of his head, Daniel communicated his intention to stay by Laura's side, and watched as the others headed up to the neo-natal unit.
Seven faces peered through the glass as only Remington followed Dr Barnett into the ward. With Mildred, Abigail, Frances and Donald and their children, Danny, Mindy and Laurie Beth, watching expectantly, he stopped Dr Barnett as she reached his daughter's crib.
"What if she can't?" he asked worriedly, "Breathe that is."
"Well, we'll put her back on the oxygen," Dr Barnett answered gently, "But you need to know that the longer she takes in pure oxygen, the greater her chances of brain and retinal damage. Don't worry, though," she added quickly, "she isn't at risk yet, but the sooner she breathes by herself, the better."
Remington nodded in silent understanding as he sat in the chair that Dr Barnett offered.
The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly as Dr Barnett lifted the lid on the humidi-crib and detached the tiny tube from the baby's nose.
She woke when the doctor lifted her from the crib and placed her gently into her father's hands.
Looking down at her intently, Dr Barnett and Remington watched as she took a deep breath and began to wail, loud clear cries, both laughing in relief as the lusty sounds of his baby's lungs filled the air. He gazed down in wonder at his tiny miracle, his eyes clouding with tears of joy as her tiny fists flailed while she screamed.
Dr Barnett let the rest of the family into the ward, making an exception to mark the joyous occasion, and as they gathered around, she showed Remington how to feed his daughter with a bottle of special formula.
"Well, if that isn't the most beautiful sound in the world," Mildred observed tearily, prompting relieved chuckles from the others, all of whom had been silent in wonder.
The littlest Steele quieted as she began to feed but the entire family was sure they'd never tire of the sound of those lungs at work.
After her bottle, each of the adults nursed the baby, instantly smitten with the newest addition to their family and scarcely believing how strong she seemed after the less than encouraging odds she'd been facing.
But before too long, Remington was once again anxious to return to Laura, this time with news of their daughter, and Dr Barnett was insisting that the baby rest.
Daniel rose immediately on Remington's return. The older man could hardly help but notice the happiness on all of their faces and his own face broke into a relieved smile.
"She's perfect," Remington told his oldest friend, still beaming from his visit with his daughter, "A perfect little miracle, breathing by herself and feeding from a bottle. You've got to see her, Daniel, it's just amazing."
"I might just do that, Harry, my boy," Daniel returned, quietly pleased and secretly relieved.
"There's been no change in Laura," ha added, "Such a deep sleep, I wonder what she could be dreaming."
As soon as the others left, Remington resumed his position in the chair by her bed. Taking her hand, he began to give her the news, confident that she could hear him.
"You did it Laura," he told her, "You did it. Thank you for our little girl, for our perfect family. She's breathing by herself. Can you hear me? She's fine and strong and demanding, a lot like you actually," he smiled, smoothing her hair back from her forehead, "Our family," he mused again, "But, it's not complete without you Laura, so come on now, wake up and meet our baby."
Remington pressed a kiss to her hand as he too wondered what she could possibly be dreaming that would keep her in such a deep slumber....
....As they stood in the office of the President of Unidac, explaining what had gone on after taking in the culprits, Laura was even more furious with Remington, not the least of which had to do with the fact that she'd had to mud wrestle with Lyle Andrews while Remington stood back so as not to dirty his tuxedo, only stepping in at the last minute to stop Laura from being drowned.
She was perilously close to boiling point when, instead of allowing her to freshen up, Remington airily announced,
"Don't worry, I have handi-wipes in the car," and dragged her off.
Collecting Mildred on their way out, the three of them piled into the limo, Laura and Remington up front, and a silent Mildred listening avidly from the back seat.
"All right - give," Laura demanded, "Why are you running off in that monkey suit to marry a hooker?"
"Remington wrinkled his nose, shooting her an unamused glance, "Really Laura, when you put it that way, it all sounds rather distasteful. Clarissa's a wonderful girl."
"I didn't even know you two were dating," she pressed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's a bit complicated," he dodged.
If either of them had looked in the rear vision mirror, they would have noticed Mildred's widened eyes and stricken expression. If she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes, Mildred might never have believed how blind and how stubborn these two could be, but there it was, in living color. However, she knew better than to interfere. She knew she'd interrupted them on many an occasion but this was one they had to work out for themselves.
"Why don't you start at the beginning and work your way up tot he altar," Laura suggested scathingly.
"You know that consulting contract you arranged with Vigilance Insurance...?" he began.
"What about it?" her curiosity was piqued.
"It didn't sit too well with our old friend Norman Keyes. Seems he took offence at having to report to me on important case," he continued.
Things were slowly falling into place but he was far from off the hook.
"I don't hear any wedding bells yet," Laura prompted.
"Well, being a petulant prig, he informed immigration that I was in the country illegally," Remington paused and let out a heavy sigh, "I know you were only trying to help when you gave me that passport in the name of Remington Steele, but -"
"Wait a minute!" Laura interrupted, "Are
you implying that somehow this is all my fault?"
Mildred's eyes were, by now, as round as saucers. That passport
had been largely her doing so this was at least partly her fault
too. That knowledge making her all the more determined to see
that everything turned out right and to try and help in any way
she could.
"Don't punish yourself Laura. I bear you no grudge," Remington was saying, but a furious Laura would not be assuaged.
"You were stranded in London!" she cried, "A man without a country. That passport got you back into the United States, you lousy ingrate!"
Laura was livid. This wasn't going at all as she had planned, not that she'd ever really had a plan, but if she had had one, this certainly wouldn't have been it. And apart from that, why was it that things never seemed to get any easier for them? Everything was always an uphill battle. A battle she was never entirely sure was worth fighting, especially when he was making plans to marry someone else.
Laura wasn't sure what he was saying, something about getting to the church on time, but she was too busy thinking. She needed to stall, she needed a plan and she needed to get out of the car.
"Stop the car and let me out!" she demanded.
Mildred's strangled protest from the back seat went unnoticed.
"Sorry," Remington said, glancing at his watch, "I'm on rather a tight schedule. The best I can do is slow down a little."
Desperate times call for desperate measures, Laura thought, as, with a frustrated cry, she leaned across and yanked the keys out of the ignition.
"Laura!" Remington shouted, as the limo slowed to a stop and she flung open the door and leapt out, followed by a frantic Remington and a shocked Mildred who, not wanting to get caught in the cross fire, stopped next to the drivers seat of the limo and watched the unfolding scene in disbelief.
"You don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation," Remington tried to explain, "If I'm not married to an American citizen by six o'clock this evening I'll be thrown out of the country."
"So you're going to waltz down the aisle with the Happy Hooker!" Laura exclaimed shrilly, "Oh, NO, if you marry anyone, you marry me!"
"Laura this is no time to be jealous," Remington told her.
"I'm not jealous I'm angry! Can't you tell the difference?!" Laura shouted. They were drawing a crowd but she didn't care, things couldn't possibly get any worse, so why should it matter that they were causing a scene.
"Why are you angry?" Remington asked baffled, "I'm the one who's going to be deported!"
She sighed, "For some cockeyed reason I expected less from you."
"Less?" he was even more bewildered, "Less what?"
"Less trickery, less deceit, less of everything that makes me doubt your feelings for me," Laura explained, but, suddenly fearing she'd said too much, given away too much of herself, she fell back on an age old argument, "Less blatant disregard for my agency. Don't you realise what being married to her would mean? IF and when you came to get a divorce after the two years were up, if Clarissa were so inclined, as your wife she could take you for half of everything, and that means half of my agency, my livelihood and my life, and you wonder why I'm angry!"
Par for the course, they were interrupted by the ringing of the limo telephone. Laura made a dive for it, followed by Remington who sent them both sprawling into the back seat, but Mildred was closest, sliding quickly into the drivers seat and answering it deftly.
"It's for you Boss," she said, handing him the receiver and watching in mild amusement as Laura wrenched herself out from beneath him and straightened up in her seat.
Even from the one sided conversation Laura and Mildred heard, it was obvious what had happened, but Remington spelled it out anyway.
"Clarissa's in the clink," he said glumly.
"What now?" Laura queried.
"Once I'm settled somewhere, will you visit me occasionally?" he asked forlornly, "With those excursion fares you can go practically anywhere in the world for around ninety-nine dollars."
"That's it?" Laura was incredulous, "You're just giving up?"
"Leaving aside the small matter of a bride for the moment, there are certain legal niceties regarding marriage that can't be overcome in an hour and ten minutes," he pointed out, "Unless..." he slammed the limo door and settled into the back seat, "Let's keep moving, at least if we're traveling, I'll feel like I'm doing something."
"Sure, Boss," Mildred answered and obligingly pulled into the traffic.
"Mildred is there a little black book in the front there somewhere, perhaps in the glove compartment?" Remington asked, looking anxiously out the window.
Laura shot him a venomous look, "Well, if that isn't a loaded question," she scoffed.
Remington stared daggers at her but ignored her comment, choosing instead to address Mildred, who had found said black book and was holding it up.
"This one?" she inquired.
"Yes," he answered, "While Miss Holt and I continue our conversation, I need you to phone a Charlie Thacker, tell him that Michael O'Leary needs to meet him in the usual place."
Mildred glanced at them in the rear vision mirror before responding suspiciously, "And where's that?"
"Well, Mildred..." he began evasively.
"I need to know if I'm going to drive you there," she interjected.
Remington tried hard to ignore the smug looks he was receiving from Laura at his unsuccessful attempt to sidestep Mildred.
"The Windmills Motel, room 204, Mildred," he revealed, "and don't spare the rubber, I only have an hour and ten, no make that five, minutes!"
With one more glance in the rear vision mirror, Mildred replied somewhat guardedly, "You got it , Boss, I'll take care of everything."
"Well you can drop me off at the office first," Laura spoke up.
"Laura, there's no time for that," Remington argued.
"Let me out!" she demanded, "I'm not going to some no-tell motel with you."
"Laura please!" he pleaded.
Laura eyed the distance between herself and the ignition. If it had worked the first time...but no sooner had she begun to lunge when she felt Remington's arm lock around her and snatch her back against him.
"Uh-uh," he murmured, "You didn't really think I'd fall for that again, did you?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear.
She struggled out of his grasp, appalled at her body's reaction to his nearness and hoping he hadn't noticed her flush, not that he could have, beneath all the dirt she had accumulated throughout the day.
Petulantly staring straight ahead, Laura met Mildred's gaze and read the expression on the older woman's face. As Mildred waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the phone line, her eyes pleaded with Laura's, "Do something!"
Laura racked her brains trying to think of something, while, in quick succession, Mildred delivered Remington's message, they pulled up outside the Windmills Motel and Remington hurriedly spoke with the owner and obtained the key to room 204. She almost had to trot to keep up with him as he headed purposefully towards the room with long legged strides.
"What are you going to do?" Laura asked, as Remington unlocked the door and let them both in.
"I don't know," he answered, "Usually it's you who comes up with a brilliant last minute deduction," he turned to face her, "So, any ideas?"
"Me?" she squeaked, shoving the door shut, "Sorry, but not this time. Don't you have a movie you can use to give us some insight?"
"Unfortunately Laura, even I don't know of a movie in which the main character's luck was quite this bad," he returned in mild amusement.
"I fail to see the humor in all of this," Laura snapped, "Who is this Charlie Thacker anyway?"
"An old contact of mine who's very good at producing authentic looking documents," Remington admitted.
"Oh, brilliant," Laura returned sarcastically, "Just what we need - more deceit." Ans with that, she stalked across the dingy room.
"Laura?" Remington called, hurrying after her, as she entered the bathroom, "Where are you going?"
"To freshen up, if that's all right with you," she called out over the sounds of running water, her answer masking the sound of metal sliding over metal and an all too suspicious click.
Laura took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. She looked a disaster on the outside but it was nothing compared to the complete wreck she felt on the inside.
She sighed as she splashed warm water over her face, washing away the dirt and grime of a grueling days' work. She wondered briefly how many times she had snapped at him in the last few minutes alone, realising it was counter productive, but she didn't seem to be able to stop her tongue from blurting out things she knew weren't at all helpful, nor could she seem to force it to say what needed to be said or, for that matter, to say anything which might begin to redress their awkward situation.
Easing her head under the running water, she tried to wash the mud and tangles from her hair, wishing it were as easy to wash away her fears and insecurities, knowing that they were what stood in her way.
Laura raised her head and stared at her reflection. Sighing again, she toweled her face and hair dry, fished a comb out of her purse and went to work on her hair until it hung, straight and sleek, to just below her shoulders.
She perched gingerly on the edge of the bathtub and lowered her head into her hands as she tried hard to pull herself together and come up with a game plan.
Outside the bathroom door, Remington paced anxiously, glancing back at it every few seconds, waiting for Laura to re-emerge, as precious time ticked slowly by.
His friend, the forger, was on the way, that wasn't the problem. Remington was sure that the necessary documents could be put together in about a half hour. What concerned him was the fact that Laura appeared to have missed the fact that marriage was his last resort and did not seem to have zeroed in on exactly what kinds of documents he was going to have forged. When she did, she was likely to be none too pleased.
It was a crazy plan, one that he never would have dreamed of trying, had it not been for what she'd said to him in the street. Remington was left no alternative but to hope that Laura had meant what she said and to trust that he would be able to explain and make it up to her.
Laura stood up and took a deep breath. Pausing with her hand on the bathroom doorknob, she tried to swallow her heart, which had lodged itself painfully in her throat, before opening the door.
Remington spun on his heel as soon as he heard her, his worried gaze following her as she moved hesitantly back into the room. He raised a hand towards her but let it drop back to his side, not quite sure what to say to her.
Suddenly something snapped inside Laura. Her urge to control kicked back in with startling clarity as she came to a stop in front of him, her mind forming rapid fire questions.
"All right," she announced, hands on hips, "How are you planning to get out of this? Who is this forger friend of yours and what documents are you having produced?"
"Ah, well," he hedged, "One thing at a time Miss Holt. Mr Thacker is going to forge another marriage license," he told her, his tone almost suggesting that he expected her to have known that.
"Well who do you think you're going to marry?"
she demanded, her voice rising slightly, throwing her hands up
in exasperation, "Clarissa's in jail!"
His eyebrows dipped in confusion and, in tandem with his response,
Laura realised she'd spoken too soon.
"But, Laura, you're the one who said - ," he began, but she cut him off. Her own sentence, one born of desperation, anger and fear, echoed in her mind, 'If you marry anyone, you marry me'
"I know what I said and you know why I said it," she broke in, "The Agency -"
This time it was he who interrupted her, "The Agency," he scoffed, "Come on Laura, when are you going to stop using the Agency as a front for what you truly feel?" then his voice softened, "It would seem it's time to face our fears."
"What fears?" Laura asserted airily, "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Really?" Remington asked, disbelief clouding his voice as he closed the distance between them.
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her soundly, her head falling back under the onslaught of his lips, her hands rising up instinctively to grasp his shoulders.
An all too familiar confusion began to wash over her, crowding in on her emotions and making it difficult to think. Struggling, she pushed away and broke free of his grasp.
"What?" she cried, backing away, "What is that supposed to prove? That's not what I'm afraid of. I need to know there's something more than just cases and physical attraction keeping us together!"
He watched her retreat towards the door, "Laura, when are you going to stop running from this?" he demanded as she turned her back on him, desperate to get a handle on whatever it was she was feeling, "Please don't walk away from me again," he pleaded, "If you run out that door..."
Her hand was already on the doorknob before she heard his impassioned plea. She turned it, but it was useless, and it was probably a blessing in disguise because, truth be told, she didn't want to run from this any longer. It certainly wouldn't help and, in all likelihood, would make things much, much worse.
She turned slowly, "I couldn't," she admitted, "Even if I wanted to."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's locked," she told him, some semblance of normalcy settling in, "We're locked in. How can we be locked into a motel room?"
Remington sighed wearily, momentarily confused. As if they
didn't have more important things to talk about, however, he did
not deny her an explanation.
"This isn't the most salubrious of locales," he explained,
"I know the proprietor, he keeps a bolt on the outside of
each door that he padlocks when the rooms aren't in use, you know,
to guard against vagrants and the like. Someone must have locked
us in."
Their eyes met in an instant of recognition. Amidst spark flying between them, they both zeroed in on an irrefutable fact.
"Mildred!" they said in unison.
Remington couldn't help but smile and he let out a rueful chuckle, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said, "She always was our biggest fan."
"This really isn't a laughing matter," Laura objected softly and plaintively, "We need to figure something out, some way to keep you in the country, and soon."
His patience was wearing thin. It was beyond him how she could remain in such a state of denial while every minute that passed brought them closer to either catastrophe or paradise.
"You know very well that I'm down to my last alternative. I'm sorry if you don't like it but it's either that or be deported," he sighed, "We'll never get anywhere like this," Remington was more than slightly exasperated. He paused as he rounded the bed, never taking his eyes off her, as he moved closer, "Laura, what do you want? If you want me to stay just say it!"
"I want you to stay!" she shouted, tears welling in her eyes, "All right? Is that what you wanted me to say?"
"I just wanted you to be honest," he said slowly, "With me and with yourself."
Laura stood with her back almost up against the door. Her brow was furrowed and her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. Her eyes glistened as she watched him approach her.
"I need you to tell me what you want," Remington continued softly, taking her chin.
"No you don't," Laura murmured, turning her head and dropping her eyes, "I don't want to ask for more than you're willing to give."
"What if I'm ready to give it all?" he challenged quietly.
Startled, she raised her wide-eyed gaze and looked him in the eyes, those eyes of pure blue.
"Are you?" she whispered fearfully.
This time he resisted the urge to smile wryly, when inside, his stomach and his heart were doing flip flops as he prepared to take the plunge and say the one thing that was already long overdue.
His eyes never left hers as he began with a calmness and confidence that belied his inner turmoil. He took her hands.
"Laura you've enticed me, enthralled me, aroused me and delighted me in a way that no woman ever has before. You've accused me of wanting nothing more than to take you to my bed and yet, for four years, we've danced around each other, hurt each other, helped each other and cared for each other," he paused and watched as she dropped her eyes, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze, "But I'm still here. I'm not your father Laura, and I'm not Wilson, it's just me, standing here, asking you to trust me, and hoping that you love me, even half as much as I love you."
Laura looked up abruptly, "You what?" she choked out.
"I love you Laura," he repeated, staring into her chocolate colored eyes, silently marvelling at how easy it had been to admit that to her, and how much relief he felt now that he had.
With eyes shining, she gazed at him in wonder, "Then why didn't you tell me sooner, come to me with this mess with INS?" she asked, a little hurt creeping into her voice.
"I couldn't out you in that position," he admitted quietly, "I didn't want you to think I was only doing it to keep from being deported."
"I would have done it anyway," Laura told him, choosing swiftly to reward his honesty with some of her own, "I would have done anything to hold onto you, I couldn't live without you. A very wise person told me, not so long ago, that words aren't so important, that I'd feel just as much pain if I lost you now as I would if I lost you after all was said and done. My parents marriage was enough to teach me that there are no guarantees," she confided softly.
"Then what do I have to do to assure you I'm not going anywhere?" Remington asked, "Help me out here Laura, I don't understand."
"Nothing," she answered, "I trust you."
"Why should you?" he wondered aloud, "When lately I've done nothing to earn it?"
"Because I love you," Laura said simply.
She had barely finished the sentence before Remington used his light hold on her hands to pull her firmly into his arms.
"Oh, Laura," he sighed, hugging her tightly, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," she whispered back, tilting her head to look up at him.
His face glowed with something that had been there for so long but that she only now recognized as adoration and admiration and she smiled tearfully.
"Tuesday, August 29, 1967, the day the running stopped," she said with a soft laugh, "The Fugitive, William Conrad, David Jansen, A Quin Martin Production, 1963-1967," on seeing Remington's quizzical expression, she elaborated, "That's how the series ended."
"I never doubted that one day we'd both just stop running," he told her, "But it's not the end for us, my love,"It's only the beginning."
It was then that he lowered his head down to hers and kissed her, gently and tenderly, but passionate at the same time. A kiss filled with promise and with love.
Laura sighed in contentment, for it felt like homecoming. She held him tightly and never wanted to let go, as she poured all her feelings into their kiss with every fibre of her being.
Everything would be all right now. Together they could face the world.
They were still locked together when Mildred peered quietly around the door. She smiled broadly at the sight and, while she was loathe to interrupt them, this time it was imperative that she did.
Laura and Remington merely laughed good-naturedly as they turned to greet the forger, Charlie Thacker.
As it happened, the forger had come prepared with both a fake marriage license and marriage certificate and, as Laura and Remington filled in the appropriate documents, Mildred noticed, with the practiced eye of a mother, that at no time were they ever not touching one another.
When they faced Estelle Becker, it was that fact coupled with their newly forged documents and an impassioned explanation from Laura which finally won her over.
Laura explained their marriage license by telling of a broken engagement but that she'd never stopped loving Remington and had jealously stopped his wedding to Clarissa and promptly hustled him off to the County Courthouse.
The tale was, at the very least, far fetched, if not highly improbable, but, ever the romantic, Miss Becker fell prey to the raw emotion in Laura's voice and the looks on both their faces as they held each other tenderly and lovingly.
It at least bough them tome enough to plan a hasty 'real' wedding not more than two weeks later, where a radiant Laura floated down the aisle and into Remington's waiting arms, before a gathering of their family and friends as well as a few others, namely INS and Norman Keyes.
When she reached his side, he smiled down at her and took
her hands but the floating sensation didn't stop. His face faded
from view and Laura felt like she was rising out of a deep fog,
but she could still feel the pressure of his hands and hear his
voice calling softly to her.
"Please wake up, darling. I love you, Laura".........