Below her, the city began to spread out like a sea of black, dusted by the glitter of diamonds. It was here that she'd come the night her father had left, to try and make sense of things. It was here that she'd come after Wilson's abrupt, no explanations departure from the house they had shared. It was here that she had decided to close Laura Holt Investigation, and the germ of the idea to "create" a fictitious boss had taken hold.
The serenity of the view beneath her as she sat on the edge of the rooftop had never failed to calm her frayed nerves, to put things into some kind of perspective from which she could work out a plan of action.
Until tonight. Tonight, the view failed to work its magic on her. Lifting a hand, she wiped away another tear, willing herself to stop crying. He wasn't worth it. He'd been a liar, a manipulative, controlling murderer.
But he was still her father. "You really are different from the others. More like me." His words.
Were they true? Was she just as controlling as he had been, in her own way? WAS she her father's daughter?
The sound of movement somewhere behind her informed Laura that she wasn't alone up here. It was too early for the guards to be back on rounds. She froze, then waited, trying to tell herself that it was likely only a squirrel or bird- but the sound came again, and this time she ducked back into her dark corner.
One shout from her would bring the guards back up to the roof, but it might also lead to their having to make out a report- and to admit that they had been looking the other way all these years to let her bend the Observatory's rules.
It was probably only some kids, she reasoned, up here on a dare. Or a couple seeking to enjoy the romantic view of the valley below.
Either way, she didn't want to draw attention to herself. When the guards made their rounds in half an hour, they would hurry the after hours visitors along, leaving Laura to her solitude.
The soft sound of leather on concrete reached her ears. It was only one person, unless the second one was wearing tennis shoes. And whoever it was, he was close. Right around the corner, in fact. She saw the shadow detach from the others and move toward her position. Laura remained still, yet ready to scurry away if need be. She bit back a sob that threatened to reveal her presence.
"Laura? Are you here?"
"Mr. Steele?" she responded in surprise as she stood up..
"Laura? Thank god," he sighed, pulling her into his arms. "Thank god."
Laura remained in those arms much as she had the night after her house had been blow to bits, allowing herself to lean on his strength. Remington smoothed her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort, wishing that he had a magic wand that he could wave to take away her pain.
As her tears evolved into hiccups, Laura pulled back slightly to look up at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
Remington gave her his handkerchief. "Looking for you. Mildred's frantic. She's blaming herself for not watching you closely enough-"
"I just- needed some time alone," Laura tried to explain, moving away from him and turning to look the view. "To- try and- think things through."
She could feel his concerned gaze on her back. "Should I go then?" he asked.
"No," Laura said slowly. "You can stay. If you want to." She perched on the wall again, studying the scene before her as the silence stretched between them.
Remington joined her, staying close, uncertain about the advisability of her sitting there after what had happened earlier. "Nice view," he commented at last, needing something to say, anything other than what was foremost on both their minds. "I've never been up here."
Laura nodded. "I've always liked it. Something about it- makes you realize that your problems aren't nearly as big as you might think they are. Helps clear the mind, put things into perspective. Usually."
Which meant that it wasn't working this time, Remington realized. They sat there for a little longer, the silence continuing. He searched his troubled mind for some story to tell her, something that would give her something to look forward to, or to help her understand. He couldn't think of anything. He went still as he heard the sound of footsteps behind them. "Laura-"
She looked at wrist, then, unable to see the face of her watch, asked, "What time do you have?"
Remington glanced at the luminous dial. "Seven."
"It's just the guard, making his rounds," she explained, continuing to sit on the ledge.
"Won't he be a trifle upset to find us still here?"
"He won't see us," Laura said.
"He won't?"
"It's a little game we've played since I was in high school and first started coming up here. As long as I'm quiet and don't cause any trouble, they "pretend" that I'm not here."
"Ah. And what about me?"
He could see Laura smile. "I'll tell them you're with me, if they ask." She reached out and took his hand. "Thank you."
"For what?" Remington asked in a wary voice.
"For being with me."
The guard came around the corner, and paused for a moment, obviously surprised to find two people instead of the one he was expecting. "Everything okay, miss?" the middle aged man asked.
"Just fine, Louis," she assured him, retaining Remington's hand in hers. "He's a friend."
Louis nodded, then continued on his way.
Remington shook his head. "You're full of surprises, Laura." She didn't respond as her gaze returned to the blanket of light spattered black velvet below them. His thumb moved across her knuckles as he spoke. "Laura, I'm -sorry."
Now it was her turn to ask. "For what?"
"For not being able to- I tried, Laura. I really tried not to let go, but-"
"He didn't want to be saved," Laura reminded him. "It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe it was. Maybe if I hadn't decided to play detective when he came back- You were right. I WAS jealous of the time you were spending with him. But there was- more than that. My instincts told me that something wasn't -right-"
"For once, your instincts were right on target, Mr. Steele," Laura commented softly.
"But instead of going to you, talking it through, I started muddling about on my own-"
"I can't believe that I was so wrong about him," Laura said. "That I never saw what he was really like."
"He was the father you loved," Remington pointed out. "The man you adored. Little girls are supposed to think their father is infallible."
"But I'm not a little girl anymore," Laura said. "I should have outgrown that. I should have told him to get lost the minute I saw him. Instead, I reverted to ten years old again-"
"Understandable, Laura," Remington insisted, putting an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "He said all the right things-"
"All the things he knew I wanted to hear," Laura agreed. "He knew me too well."
"He might have known the girl he walked away from," Remington agreed. "But he didn't know YOU at all."
"Didn't he? He said that I'm like him."
"No, you're not."
"But everything I've done over the last few years proves that I am," she insisted.
"Laura, if either of us is manipulative, it's me, not you."
She turned to look at him in astonishment. "What?"
"Ever since I became Remington Steele, I've been trying to manipulate you into-"
Laura touched his lips to silence him. "And have you succeeded?"
"No, but-"
"And would you like to know WHY you haven't succeeded, Mr. Steele?" She didn't give him a chance to answer the question before she continued. "Because of my insatiable need to -CONTROL every little aspect of my life. Including my relationship- business AND personal- with you. Everything has to be planned down to the minutest detail. Every "t" crossed, every "i" dotted, every question fully answered before I would make ANY move."
"But you weren't like that with Wilson, were you?"
"Not to the same extent, no. Wilson's leaving just seemed the- catalyst. Another controlling, domineering man decided I wasn't good enough for him. So I reinvented myself, and this time I put ME in control," she declared.
"And look where it's taken you," Remington pointed out. "The top of your profession- respect from those who know you. The admiration of others, who, like yourself, want more than a white picket fence, two kids and a dog. You're an inspiration to those who have a dream and are afraid to pursue it."
"An inspiration?"
"You will be once you speak to that group of high school students next week."
"Me?"
"You did say you wanted to take over some of the PR work for the Agency, remember?"
"But, that wasn't my idea. It was-"
"But it's a good idea. An excellent idea, truth be told." He felt Laura's eyes on him.
"This wouldn't be your way of getting out of having to go to that High School Career Day, would it?"
"I'm afraid you have me there, Laura. But just think about it. You might find the next Laura Holt lurking among the halls of bubble gum and teeny-boppers." He saw her smile. "And from now, I promise that I won't hog the spotlight. You'll get full credit for solving cases. Everyone's going to know that you're-" He stopped as Laura placed a finger to his lips again.
"We're a team, Mr. Steele. Partners. Do you remember what said about Alan Grievey?" Remington shook his head negatively. "Someone mentioned that Alan was a showboat, always taking the credit for everything. But said that he was happy to be the second person in the door- as long as the first person was Alan. I can live without being in the limelight, Mr. Steele. As long as we get the job done, does it really matter who solves the cases?"
Remington looked at her. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Laura Holt?" he asked.
"She's here. And tomorrow, I'll probably deny I've said any of this." She looked thoughtful. "No, I won't. Because from this point onward, Mr. Steele, Laura Holt is going to be a different woman."
"Different?"
"Different," she repeated. "I'm going to prove that I'm NOT like my father."
"A kinder, gentler Laura Holt?" Remington questioned. "That might take some getting used to," he teased.
"What I don't understand is why my mother never told me what he was really like. All these years, she's never said a word about what she must have gone through-"
"She says that it was because she didn't want to tarnish the image you held of your father."
Laura frowned. "How do you know that?"
Remington grimaced, tugged at his ear. "Uh, well, I called her- to ask some questions about Edward."
"You called my mother? You told her that he was back?"
"I needed to know-"
"I guess I'll have to call her. Mother and I need to have a long talk."
"A call won't be necessary," he told her.
"It won't?"
"As much as I tried to dissuade her, she caught a flight to Los Angeles-"
"My mother is--here?" Remington watched her as he nodded, waiting for the explosion.
"She arrived just after you took off. She's waiting at the office with Mildred."
"Oh."
"I can take you back to your place, if you don't want to talk to her tonight," he offered.
"No," she said. "I really do think she and I need to talk. And I owe her an apology- I didn't understand before." She slid her arms around his neck. "But we don't have to go back right now, do we, Mr. Steele?"
Remington looked down at her. "Well, Mildred and your mother are both very worried. And Fred's still parked-"
Laura's lips on his caused him to fall silent. "It's a very romantic view, don't you think,- Remington?"
He didn't even look at the view. His gaze was on Laura's face. "The most beautiful view in the entire world, Laura," he agreed. "Absolutely staggering," he whispered, pulling her closer. But something made him hesitate. "Laura, you're still hurting- and as much as I'd like to take you up on -"
"Remington- has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" Laura asked.
"Me? Talk too much? I can't say-" Laura slipped a hand into the thick hair on the back of his head and pulled his lips back to hers…
When Louis returned half an hour later, he wasn't even noticed by Miss Holt and her "friend". He paused as he came around the corner, and smiled while continuing on his route.