- Steele's True Colors
- by Gilmoraddict
- Send feedback to: 12nostalgia77 @ gmail.com (without the
- But I see your true colors, Shining through, I see your
true colors, And thats why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show, Your true colors, True colors
are beautiful, Like a rainbow (Phil Collins)
- Green Space
- "Nice follow through, Partner!" Murphy whistled
as Laura's ball sailed past the rough and landed on the edge
of the green.
- "Thanks, Murph. I'm pretty rusty though. That was pure
- "Yeah, well you're a natural. You've always had a nice
swing. "Murphy's gaze seemed to infer his admiration for
something other than Laura's prowess at golf. "I'm just
glad you made it out here with me today."
- "Me too. I needed a break from all the office stuff."
Taking a deep breath Laura shoved her nine iron in her bag and
waited for Murphy to play his ball. Truth be told her heart wasn't
really in the game, but she had been honest about needing a break
from work. It had been months since she had left early on a Friday.
The weather was great, and Murphy was a good friend, who shared
her interest in sports as well as private investigation.
- "You still up for pizza and watching the Raiders' game
- "Absolutely." Laura assured Murphy with only slightly
forced enthusiasm. "Wouldn't miss it."
- "So, what's HE up to today?"
- "Steele?" Laura asked, knowing good and well who
her partner was referring to. The ersatz head of their agency
was a con man who had dropped into their lives during a particularly
high profile case, and assumed the role of Remington Steele,
the up to that point fictitious figure head Laura had created
to give her agency credibility. That had certainly blown up their
faces. Not that Steele didn't generate public interest. With
his blue eyes, drop-dead good looks, and suave ways, he had become
a mainstay in the Los Angeles social scene. He had brought the
agency all sorts of attention, and business. Men were flattered
by his attention. Women absolutely loved him, swarmed over him
as a matter of fact. Mr. Steele was bigger than life. Laura wasn't
immune, but she'd be hanged if she was going to fall for his
smarmy charms. Shrugging her shoulders Laura said off handedly,
"I have no idea."
- "We'll probably read about him in the paper tomorrow."
- Laura didn't bother to respond to Murphy. She walked toward
the green, brooding over that handsome face that smiled so beguilingly
at her every time she turned around at the office. And went out
with a different woman every night.
- Blue Skies
- "Penny for your thoughts!" A brilliant smile lit
the questioning face of the willowy blond seated next to him
in a sleek black Mercedes convertible. They spun down the Ocean
Coast highway, the sun glinting off Steele's sun glasses, and
Carla's sun-streaked tresses, Steele focused on the ribbon of
road stretching in from of them.
- "Oh, sorry! Pressures of work you know." Steele
covered his inattentiveness smoothly. "Lovely car - thank
you for giving me a turn at the wheel."
- "I'm happy to have someone else drive. Turn here - this
is the spot." Carla called over the road noise, delighted
to have such a handsome companion for the afternoon. The two
had reservations to para -sail on the beach, to be followed later
by diner at her parent's Malibu home. Steele and his agency had
set up a security system for her father's gallery, and Carla
considered Steele a bonus.
- "This ought to be an interesting experience." Steele
smiled politely as he opened the door for Carla, wondering how
many dates with her would sufficiently answer the need to court
- "I'm sure you'll find para-sailing exhilarating! I never
get tired of the high you get from soaring over the ocean."
Carla beamed at Steele, and then slipping her arm through his,
drew him over to the beach stand where they were preparing the
apparatus for para-sailing. In next to no time the forms had
been signed, the harnesses fitted, and Steele and his ebullient
companion were aloft.
- The sailcloth snapped and ruffled in the wind as the ocean
swept by below Steele's and his companion's feet. Carla closed
her eyes, laughing, seeming to revel in the weightless rush of
the wind, but Steele could hardly bring himself to blink, trying
to take in the entire vista from their bird's eye view, horizon
line to horizon line. The blues of sky and sea met in a deep
blur, the white sand beach flecked with bright colored bits of
umbrella and beach towel revealing the passing of the miles.
They soared alongside an idyllic sprawling campus, athletic fields,
tennis courts, and ivory academic buildings. Steele breathed
deeply of the salty air, a smile stretched wide across his face.
Laura would love this experience. Picturing her thick hair blowing
back from sun kissed freckles, her dimples flickering across
her face as she laughed. Steele turned to touch her hand and
speak to her, startled to find Carla, and not Laura, strapped
into the harness beside him. He smiled half heartedly at the
blond, giving her a 'thumbs up' to express his appreciation for
the ride. He then turned to lose himself once more in the blues
of sea and sky.
- Steele wondered what Laura was up to today.
- Gridiron Gold
- Murphy nudged Laura with his toe. "Need another beer,
- "Huh? Uh, no Murph, I'm good, thanks." Laura glanced
down at the amber bottle that sat nearly untouched by her knee.
She was sitting on the floor leaning back against Murphy's couch,
where two of Murphy's buddy's, Jeff and Phil, were ensconced.
Both men roared with delight as the Raiders, newly located in
LA, connected with Heisman Trophy winner Marcus Allen for a touch
down. Laura smiled at Murphy as he shoved Phil's legs aside to
grab a spot on the carpet next to Laura. "Great game - good
to have the strike over so we can enjoy football again."
- "Seriously. What, these guys didn't make enough money
as it was?" Murphy joked, painfully aware that his own gridiron
dreams had been shattered along with his knee in one of his last
games at Stanford.
- "Doesn't seem fair, does it Murph." Laura said
sympathetically. "You were better than most of 'em too.
Now you're running plays in a glamorous detective agency with
Pretty Boy and me. Not fair at all."
- "Well, you know I'm not happy about our current arrangement."
Murphy glanced up at his buddy's and lowered his voice. "But
I trust you Laura. I know you aren't going to do anything stupid.
You've got the vision in this operation."
- "I've got things under control Partner. Honest."
Laura felt heat rise in her cheeks, and wondered who she was
pulling the greater con on, Murphy, or herself. The vision she
had most often these days was of blue eyes, impossibly thick
silky dark hair, and the dimpled smile that followed each swaggering
- Murphy lurched as Jeff punched him in the arm. "Look
at that Murphy - what a play!"
- Murphy and Laura turned their attention back to the screen,
and focused on the action there. The Raiders did LA proud. Football
provided safe conversation for the remainder of the afternoon.
- Chestnut Tresses
- Polished hooves thundered down a grassy polo field, a lathered
bay and palomino racing toward the same point, competing riders
poised to strike a small white ball. A striking chestnut with
three white feet and a star on his fore head streaked in from
the side, his rider, dressed pale blue and wearing the number
two, deftly turning aside the man in red, to pass the ball neatly
to his own teammate.
- "Great move, Steele!" was the jubilant shout from
the number three man trailing behind. Steele smiled shortly,
and turned once more to follow the play. Anticipating the next
move of Jim Meecham as he came in from his left, Steele urged
his mount forward and receiving Jim's pass, swung the mallet
to send the ball neatly through the goal. In moments the chukka
was complete. The teams nodded politely to one another, horses
blowing steam from their noses as they exited the field.
- "You handle yourself well, Steele. Come play again.
With Roger out of the game for a bit we're short handed."
Meecham slapped Steele jovially on the back as they led the ponies
back toward the stable.
- "You've got a fine string of animals Meecham. Wouldn't
mind having a go at it regularly." Steele responded.
- "Great! Bring that little filly of yours with you next
time." Meecham suggested, grinning at Steele.
- "Miss Holt?" Steele questioned with a raised eyebrow.
He'd actually told her about today's polo match, hoping she might
want to help with the ponies as she had for the match he had
participated in during the Dillon matter. Steele smiled at the
thought of Laura managing tack like a seasoned stable hand, and
then the next evening, a movie star like vision in a beautiful
white gown. She was a confusion of contradictions. It was exhilarating
to work alongside her; but her come to watch him play? "I'm
afraid Miss Holt is nobody's filly, mine or otherwise. Independent
sort she is."
- "Ahh - well, you've got a whole string of ponies yourself,
don't you. I've seen those society columns." Meecham laughed
bawdily. "Why limit your options, eh Steele?"
- "Quite right." Steele mused. That had certainly
always been his philosophy. He ran a vigorous brush through the
tangled brown mane of the horse he had just ridden. So what was
it that made him so restless these days? And so willing to stay
in one place?
- In the Pink
- The sky behind the trees of McCullem Park was suffused with
brilliant orange, pink and yellow lights, as the sun began to
slip into the dark blue Pacific waters to the west. The park
was still filled with those enjoying the evening's lingering
light. Frisbees soared to leaping dogs, parents aired small children
who had been in school all day, and bikes zipped along paths,
swerving around the parks slower occupants.
- Waving a greeting at one of these bikers, the slender loping
figure of Laura Holt emerged from a fragrant cluster of shivering
pines. She wore a pink tee shirt and gray sweats, with grimy
white Nikes on her small feet. While Laura was breathing deeply,
she seemed completely relaxed, and ran with the grace of a long
limbed child, occasionally leaping over tree roots or runoff
ditches that interrupted the running path she traveled.
- Laura was a regular in the park. There were several reasons
she ran. It was obviously important that she maintain physical
conditioning - while she was fond of saying that her work involved
more brain than brawn, there were instances where a case had
been solved due to her swift pursuit of a suspect. There had
also been cases where she had fleetly eluded thugs, or raced
to avoid having her undercover surveillance revealed. Laura could
leap climb and run with the best.
- Lately, however, running served a different purpose. Laura
took a deep shuddering breath and picked up her pace.
- Steele. The risk she had acknowledged when she created Remington
Steele as a fictitious superior had compounded exponentially
when the mysterious Ben Pearson/Michael O'Leary/Douglas Quintain/Paul
Fabrini/ John Murrell/ Richard Blaine slid into her life, and
into the agency she had built around HIS name.
- The tension once more knotted Laura's shoulders and she flexed
her arms to shake it off. Wondering what crimes the debonair
Mr. Steele had committed, and who might recognize him as an impostor,
when he would slip up and compromise the agency by falling back
into old habits, and which of his former compatriots - other
Felicias, or Wallaces - would show up next. Where he would head
when he left. The possibilities were endless. All of them bad.
- What was worse, Laura shut her eyes briefly as she pondered
this, was the attraction she felt for Steele. Normally oh so
sensible, despite her most rational attempts to keep her relationship
with Steele strictly business, she feared her reactions betrayed
- And now he wanted to actually work on cases with her and
Murphy. Murphy was convinced it was a recipe for total disaster.
But what a sweet disaster. Laura smiled as she thought of Steele
threatening the CIA agent about Sheldon Quarry. He was actually
quite good, though she'd never tell HIM that.
- The last pinks had faded from the sky, and a shadowed azure
descended. Slowing to a walk as she approached the Rabbit Laura
stretched up as high as she could then bent to place her hands
flat on the ground. If only staying grounded was this easy in
her business life.
- Wiping perspiration from her face with the bottom of her
pink tee, Laura climbed into the car to drive home. She'd be
back to run the same path tomorrow.
- Silver Swords
- The silver flash of rapiers danced as two figures parried
and thrust. Masks covered both faces. It was difficult to distinguish
teacher from student as the two sidestepped and circled one another.
A singing sound of metal against metal marked the tempo of the
struggle. Posture meticulously erect, shoulders squared, excepting
in the execution of a thrust, there was an ease and grace to
both figures. One was slightly heavier and a few years older,
and perhaps it was his age that finally gave the other advantage.
The younger forced the slightly larger man back. Neither made
a sound, except to breathe, as the intensity of their struggle
- Finally the more slender figure capitalized on his slight
advantage in speed and agility, pushing his opponent to the mat
with an almost apologetic thrust. He stood, drawing a breath
in deeply almost as if in surprise. With a slight flourish, the
younger man moved his rapier aside, and reached down to courteously
assist the defeated man to his feet, pulling his mask from his
face as he did so. Steele's sliding smile flashed as the students
around the two burst into applause. Gus smiled back at his student,
bowing slightly over their joined hands.
- "An excellent match Steele."
- "Thank you Gus. Next week, same time?"
- "Steele, I think the student has surpassed the teacher.
This is the third week you have bested me."
- "Mere chance!" Steele protested.
- "I will see what I can do about finding a new opponent
for you, someone whose moves you can't anticipate so readily."
Gus smiled, though, clearly proud of the man he had coached.
"Until next week, then Steele, touché!"
- With a touch of irony Steele thought 'I can win this contest,
against this opponent. What I can't seem to anticipate are Miss
Holt's moves.' She surprised him at every turn. No classical
training, no way to strategize. Perhaps if he were to meet her
on a fencing piste, but since that was not likely to happen,
Laura was likely to remain a challenge, and an enigma. Steele
smiled. Laura was the best kind of challenge.
- Black and White
- Dressed all in white, Steele and Laura made a stunningly
attractive couple. Steele knew it, modesty a fault that had never
troubled him. Smiling broadly, Steele preened a bit, basking
in the admiration of those around them. Charmingly, Laura seemed
to have no idea how lovely she was, how people smiled at the
two of them together. She disciplined her gaze to encompass all
of the surrounding space, gently gripping her lower lip with
her teeth in her concentration. Steele found this habit of Laura's
oddly provocative. Her auburn hair swirled in waves around her
shoulders, and she occasionally raked her right hand through
it, pulling it straight back from her face to fall in new layers.
- "What made you choose me?" Steele asked, turning
to watch Laura speculatively.
- "I beg your pardon?" Laura turned startled brown
eyes on her companion, eyes made darker by the contrast with
her white attire.
- Steele leaned back in his chair, snowy white sweater tied
across his shoulders, sun glasses hanging by their frames from
his white polo shirt. He began deftly spinning a tennis ball
in with his long, eloquent fingers.
- "I mean, why am I here with you today rather than Murphy?"
- "Murphy can't play tennis - football injury to his knee
in college." Laura's words were clipped. "Besides,
isn't being someone you're not sort of your thing?"
- "Of course. Murphy's misfortune, my good luck."
Steele contemplated the impeccably groomed clay courts. "Tell
me again about the case we're pursuing."
- "We're here to take a tennis lesson from Chris Marten.
He's the tennis pro here at the Gentry Club. It seems several
of the members he has coached have experienced rather sizable
corporate thefts. Mr. Marten is apparently very congenial, spends
a great deal of time visiting with his clients, gaining their
confidence, and possibly access to information that allows him
to relieve them of assets. No one's been able to prove anything,
so our goal is to feed him some false information. If he acts
on it, we'll have our man." Laura leaned forward, becoming
animated as she explained the plan to Steele. "You're clear
on your part, right? Just charm him, tell him I handle all the
bookkeeping, and I'll handle the rest. Family run business, o.k.?"
- "Oh, absolutely. Can't think of anyone I'd rather be
in business with." Steele wiggled his eyebrows suggestively
at Laura. That's why he was Remington Steele, wasn't it!?
- Laura's scowl disappeared as a handsome, athletic man approached
them with a warm smile and outstretched hand.
- "Are you the James? I'm Chris Marten. "
- "Trevor James - and my wife Laura." Steele rose
lazily to meet Marten's outstretched hand. Keeping a firm grip
on Marten's hand prevented the tennis pro from turning immediately
to see the outrage on Laura's face.
- "Oh - I was under the impression you two were siblings."
Marten turned to take Laura's hand as she attempted to compose
- "Ah, no, Mr. James, ah, that is, Trevor has a sister
who works with us, but umm
- "I prefer to play with my wife." Steele smirked,
extremely pleased with himself. "That is, we'd like to be
able to play together. Laura's been working on her game for years,
and has an admirable stroke, but I've pledged to work tirelessly
in my efforts to
catch up to her. Now, I have the balls
here, shall we get started?"
- Standing up abruptly, and knocking over her chair with a
clatter, Laura blushed furiously. Reaching to right the chair
she bumped heads with Marten who gallantly made the same effort.
Both stood again, rubbing their heads. Steele reached smoothly
across them to pick up the chair, and then put his arm tenderly
around Laura's waist. He gazed adoringly down at her as he asked
"Are you all right, Love?"
- Laura stood stiffly for a moment within the circle of Steele's
arm, then reaching for the visor she'd left on the table, pulled
her elbow back, slamming Steele solidly mid section. "I'm
just fine, Dear. Thank you."
- "OOF. Good, good." Steele managed to whisper. "Ready
when you are."
- Picking up on the unmistakable tension, Marten shrugged and
gestured towards the courts. "Great. Why don't we hit the
courts, and see what we have to work with."
- Black slacks, turtlenecks, and a black driving cap Laura
had pulled low on her fore head helped Laura and Steele to disappear
into the shadows of the empty office in a building which belonged
to a friend of Murphy's. It was the third night they had sat
this stakeout. Steele could just barely make out Laura's dark
eyes against the pale oval of her face.
- "Miss Holt, May I say I'm truly very impressed with
your athletic abilities. You handle a racket with wonderful skill."
Steele toasted Laura with the small flask he had secreted in
his jacket pocket, a flask she had already declined to share.
- "You did quite well yourself." Laura admitted.
"I didn't know you had been taking lessons elsewhere. You
handled Marten well too. Thank you for making time for all the
sessions with him. I hope I haven't kept you from more interesting
- "On the contrary Miss Holt. It's been most interesting
to spend time one on one with you- no Murphy, no Bernice - just
rackets, balls, a net and your beautiful California weather."
Steele voice was soft in the dark of the empty office where they
were waiting for Marten to follow through on the false information
they had provided him. "It's been far more stimulating than
luncheons with well meaning blue haired matrons and long winded
- A smile flickered briefly on Laura's face. "But you
love having your photo taken!" Laura taunted.
- "Laura, really. It does nothing for my image to be photographed
with people two and three times my age."
- "What, exactly, IS your age?" Laura prodded.
- "Oh, grew up with the Beetles, Yellow Submarine, flights
to the moon, color telly." Keeping things to himself was
a lifelong habit for Steele. He masterfully turned the query
back to Laura. "Who were your childhood music idols?"
- "You a Beetles fan?" Briefly Laura pictured a young,
unkempt teenager plugged into a radio. But then, could Steele
have EVER been anything less than impeccably groomed? Although
realizing he had revealed nothing, Laura ventured "Bach,
Vivaldi, sometimes Gershwin. I really love all kinds of music."
- Steele looked at Laura's outline in the dark room, smiling.
Touché . Here it was again. The unexpected. "We must
indulge your passion for music some time....."
- The door creaked open. Laura hushed Steele with a finger
laid gently on his lips. Holding their breath, they waited as
a man carrying a flashlight crept into the room, slowly turning
the beam of light around the empty room. Ascertaining that the
office was empty, the man's arm dropped to his side. Laura reached
for the wall switch behind her, flooding the room with light.
- "Mr. Marten. Looking for something?" Laura glared
at the startled man, who surprisingly enough, was not Chris Marten.
The stranger turned and ran for the door. Steele had already
begun to approach the man and was momentarily stunned when the
man aggressively landed two solid blows, the first to Steele's
abdomen, the second to his jaw. Steele fell under Laura's feet,
who barely pausing, leaped over Steele's body, and bounded after
- Groaning Steele staggered to his feet and followed Laura
out the door. Laura was halfway down the alley, vaulting to the
top of a dumpster, and from there over a fence into a parking
lot where the target of her pursuit dodged frantically between
cars. Steele managed to pull himself onto the metal box, and
over the same fence, wincing as his feet landed on the asphalt
below. His eyes sought Laura, on the other side of the lot now,
climbing the padlocked gate.
- "Lauuu - rrra...." Steele grimaced, continuing
to trail her, as she leaped lightly to the sidewalk and sprinted
swiftly after Steele's assailant.
- Recovering slowly, Steele struggled over the fence, and fell
less than gracefully to the walkway below. Rubbing his injured
stomach with one hand, his jaw with the other Steele stood and
took a few shaky breaths before setting off in the direction
Laura had gone.
- Laura caught up to the intruder just as he opened a car door.
With the intent of detaining him she grabbed his arm and spun
him around, only to have him raise the flashlight he still gripped
in one hand, and bring it down sharply on her head.
- From halfway down the block Steele watched in horror as Laura
crumpled to the pavement. Taillights blazed to life with the
car's engine, and sped away. Steele's own injuries forgotten
he rushed to Laura, dropping to his knees to gently pull her
head into his lap. Her face was a chalky white, and stood out
in stark contrast to the dark surrounding them. Steele's fingers
probed her neck to affirm her pulse, and he then gently gathered
her to him, holding her close, resting his chin on her fragrant
chestnut hair as he thought for a moment.
- Rising to his feet, slowly so as not to jar his precious
burden, Steele carefully adjusted Laura, so that her injured
head lay against his shoulder. Gently he carried her toward the
bleak brilliance of a streetlight as it spilled over a pay phone
on the side of the building closest to them. After awkwardly
making a call, Steele slid slowly down the lighted wall, to cradle
Laura within his arms.
- The pounding headache woke Laura before she could bring herself
to open her eyes. Drawing her eyebrows ever so slightly together
she slowly brought her hand up to touch the bandage on her head.
- "Welcome back, Partner." Murphy's voice was quiet.
He reached out to gently squeeze the hand which lay at still
- "Hey Murphy." Laura opened her eyes to take in
the white hospital curtains drawn around her and Murphy, and
more slowly, the sounds of monitors, footsteps, and voices beyond
- "You're a quick study. How's the head?"
- "Excruciating." In the silence that followed Laura
muddled through the events of the evening. "How did I get
- "Steele." Murphy said quietly. "He called
me from a pay phone close to the office where you were waiting.
I picked you up and brought you here. You've got a concussion.
They took a couple of stitches in your noggin. I think they'll
let me take you home in a couple of hours, if I watch you for
the rest of the night. Make sure you can focus, recite the alphabet,
tell me the presidents, you know, neuro stuff."
- "Great. Thanks Murph." Laura looked blearily at
Murphy, who looked as if he had fallen out of bed to be there,
wearing a wrinkled gray sweatshirt and jeans. She closed her
eyes again, and after a lengthy pause asked. "And Steele?"
- Murphy grimaced. "He's been down at the precinct filling
out forms. He went to Marten's townhouse after I picked you up.
Seemed to think he had something to find there. When the guy
who hit you showed up, Steele persuaded him to make a full confession
- Marten too. Called the police, and when they arrived they found
enough evidence to keep Marten and his buddy in the courts, instead
of on them, for a long time. I heard all this from my friend
Herb Brown at the station. They're all pretty impressed with
- Laura's eyes opened to watch Murphy as he reluctantly relayed
these events. A smile slid slowly across her face. "You're
- "Wish I was. There'll be no living with him now."
- "Who?" Steele's brilliant smile peered around the
curtained edge of the enclosure. In his black clothing he stood
out sharply against the ghostly curtain.
- "I'm gonna get a cup of coffee. Don't go anywhere with
out me." Murphy touched Laura's shoulder lightly with his
closed fist before standing to walk away. He gave Steele a cold
appraising look as they passed.
- "I take it Murphy got you patched up? You had him pretty
worried. I think he contemplated taking a crack at me for not
looking after you better."
- Murphy had been worried. Laura frowned. "I don't need
anyone looking after me, you or Murphy."
- Smiling smugly at Laura Steele jibed "Of course not,
Miss Holt. You almost had that thug."
- Laura stared at the black screen of the monitor that sat
off to one side of the cubical, catching a glimpse in her reflection
of the glaring white bandage. Feeling a slight wave of nausea
wash over her, Laura swallowed and closed her eyes. Steele was
right. She had needed back up. But did he have to rub it in?
Grudgingly she offered "Thank you."
- "My pleasure, Miss Holt. I take exception to men who
hit women with torches."
- Momentarily puzzled Laura muttered "Women with torches?
Like the Statue of Liberty?"
- "Must be that crack on the head, you're babbling."
Steele looked down at the black and white tile squares beneath
his feet, then back at Laura's pale, freckled face. He took Laura's
hand between both of his. "I'm actually sorry the case is
finished. No more tennis dates, no more stakeouts."
- "Oh don't be discouraged. We haven't gotten all the
bad guys yet, Mr. Steele. There are some sucker punches still
out there waiting for you." Laura gazed at Steele's beautiful
blue eyes, and could see his fatigue. "It's late Mr. Steele.
Murphy's here. Why don't you go home and get some sleep. I'll
see you at the office tomorrow."
- "Murphy's turn now, eh Miss Holt?" Steele asked
a bit sadly.
- "Well, he knows the presidents."
- "You're babbling again."
- "I've seem to be doing a lot of that lately. I am rather