"Think of something... Think of something..." His mind was drawing blank. He could only think of one thing... If he could only persuade her to go along with it... But how could he - after what she'd just said? Not that he could blame her, really. But that was his only chance; if he failed, she would be lost to him, and lost forever. "OK, there is one thing I still have time to do," he admitted. "Marriage on a boat."

"What???"

He hastily explained the details to her, being careful not to step on any sore toes.

"Fake blood test results?" she declared. "Forged marriage license? Phony ceremony?! Can't you come up with something more original? Something you'll be able to sell to Immigration?"

"Don't worry, it'll work!" he assured her. "It will work!"

"Aren't you forgetting one minor detail? Another hooker, perhaps? Or do you already have one on hold? Knowing you, I wouldn't be surprised!"

Now or never. He grinned at her. "Umm... Laura..."

"No!"

"Laura..."

"Forget it, buster! I thought I made it perfectly clear..."

"Yes, you made it perfectly clear. But think of the Agency." Time for some subtle flattery. "Your Agency. Do you really think it could withstand this kind of PR?"

A tiny seed of doubt was sowed; he could see it. Just a little bit more...

"Listen, Laura," he plunged ahead. "I understand, you're upset..." - oops! - "Angry, angry, I understand that you're angry, you're very angry with me - and you have every right to be, I admit it. I'm sorry. But right now it's time to put our personal feelings aside and concentrate on the professional side of our..." - no, 'relationship' was a very unsuitable word at the moment.

Laura sighed in frustration. "OK. But only for the good of the Agency. And just to eliminate any possible misunderstanding - this marriage will be strictly business. Nothing even remotely legal. Fake blood test results, forged license, phony ceremony. And don't even think of mentioning a honeymoon!"

"Laura, when I make a bargain, I stick to it."

"Just make sure you remember it. What do we do next?"

"Well, I shall take care of the papers, find a boat, and call Estelle Becker. In that particular case 'seeing is believing' makes a certain amount of sense. You are welcome to join me, of course, as always," he said, still being very careful not to pour more oil onto her flames, "but I just thought you'd like to freshen up. It's not that far from your loft. Why don't you take a cab and I'll pick you up there in, say, forty minutes? It should give us enough time to get married; we could even ask Ms. Becker and Mildred to meet us there."

"Excellent idea, Mr. Steele. You seem to be finally regaining your senses."

"Better late then never, eh, Miss Holt? May be there is still hope for me. Shall we?"

She dropped her ruined suit on the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower. Surely she was dreaming. No, it was a nightmare. Or delusion of grandeur, more likely. You thought you'd changed him? Thought he had changed, had become the man you'd envisioned? Thought he cared for you? Well, perhaps, he did care for her, in his own way... But he hadn't cared enough to be honest, had he? He hadn't cared enough to marry her for real...

Why don't you just say it, Laura? He doesn't love you, and that's all. He performs a valuable service for your Agency, you need him professionally... Business it is. You managed to do it once, you can do it again. Snap out of it, you haven't much time.

She stepped out of shower. Water had washed away her anger, her rage, her fury; all emotions were gone. Laura felt so empty, so betrayed, so miserable... She took another business suite from her closet... It was her wedding day, for God's sake! Shouldn't she wear at least something more appropriate? She had a white dress, which seemed to be much more suitable for the occasion. If nothing else, it would look better for Ms. Becker.

Her wedding day! It was hard to admit it even to herself, but she has been dreaming of it every once in a while - a beautiful white dress, lace, flowers, a diamond ring, and a handsome, tall, blue-eyed... Stop it! He doesn't deserve it! He doesn't deserve me!

She had just put on the suit when there was a knock on the door.

Laura hurried to open it. Much to her surprise, however, there was no one there. "OK," she declared, stepping out into the hallway to see what he was up to now. "If this is one of your stupid tricks..."

Something wet and disgustingly sweet-smelling closed over her nose and mouth; she arched her back in fruitless attempt to free herself and everything went dark.

"What the...?" The door to Laura's loft was padlocked. You must've gotten the wrong floor, mate. One too many on the wings of hope.

No, it was the third floor. What could it mean? He was sure they'd agreed to meet at the loft. And the Rabbit was parked in its usual place; he had passed it by on his way here.

"Oh, Chief, I hope I'm not late," Mildred gasped, hurrying up the stairs. "Where is Miss Holt?"

"I don't know, Mildred. The door is locked. Did she call you, by any chance?"

"No, Chief. I left right after you phoned."

"Well, under the circumstances... Can I borrow your broach?"

He picked the lock and entered the loft, calling, "Laura! Are you here?" He knew she couldn't be, but needed to do something to suppress his sinking feeling of disaster.

A quick look around the loft revealed dirty clothes on the floor, a wet shower, and Laura's purse nowhere to be seen... He tried to go through her closet and figure out what she might be wearing, but even if he could remember - what then?

"Hello!" a female voice called out from the open doorway. "Miss Holt? Mr. Steele?"

"Oh, Ms. Becker! I trust you found us without a problem..." - Damn, there still might be a reasonable explanation!

"Yes, Mr. Steele, I did. I thought Miss Holt was going to join us. Where is she?"

"Umm... I'm afraid there's been slight misunderstanding. She must be waiting for us outside..." Remington was grasping at straws and knew that. So did Estelle Becker. "Why don't you wait here while I take a look around the building?"

"Mr. Steele, it's almost six. And under the circumstances I'd rather not let you out of my sight."

"Boss, I can go," Mildred offered.

She went out, leaving the two in heavy silence. Ms. Becker busied herself reading some papers, frowning occasionally, and looking at Steele.

Remington busied himself pacing the loft, going through Laura's clothes again, looking for anything - a note, a clue, anything at all. What happened? Laura could hardly have gotten into trouble on her way downstairs, assuming, of course, that she had decided to wait outside. Had she gotten cold feet? It was so unlike her to take off like this - no note, no explanation... Or was it? He fought the urge to look in the laundry hamper.

"No Miss Holt," Mildred announced upon her return. "Couldn't find her."

"Did you look in the alley behind the building, Mildred?"

"And even in the basement and the maintenance room. Bupkis. I'm sorry, Boss."

"That's... OK, Mildred. That's OK. I guess she's just changed her mind, that's all." He hugged Mildred, who was frighteningly close to tears.

Estelle Becker rose from her chair. "Well, Mr. Steele, I'm afraid your time is up."

Ms. Becker had also informed him that his deportation would involve legal difficulties. "Normally, Mr. Steele, a person is deported to the country he or she came from, if a point of entry can be established, or to the country of origin, if not. Naturally, the country the person is being deported to pays the deportation fees - airfare and such. That is a common practice, which in your case, unfortunately, cannot be used since you have no valid passport and no proof of either point of entry or citizenship. The Irish authorities have denied they've ever issued a passport in the name of Remington Steele. So did the British authorities, but considering that, if forced to stay in the US, you'd have to face legal charges, they've agreed to grant you entry to England, further investigation pending - providing you'll purchase your own ticket. Your flight to London leaves at half past ten, which should give you just enough time to get your things."

Great. In addition to all the mess he'd gotten himself into, he'd even have to pay for his own deportation. Apparently crime didn't pay... but then, neither did straight and narrow...

Remington was trying to at least pretend he was packing while Mildred and Ms. Becker were waiting for him in the living room. Just as long as they'd leave him alone... Mildred had tried to say she would see that the rest of his things would be shipped to him as soon as he got settled somewhere, but that didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered anymore. He was just throwing clothes in a suitcase in a stupor.

As one of the sweaters he took out of a drawer unfolded in his suddenly clumsy hands, something fell to the floor with a quiet thud. Remington bent to pick it up... and froze. It hurt, almost physically, to even think of it... to think of what it could have been... of all the missed opportunities... He carefully lifted the item. There was no need to open the small velvet box; he knew all too well what was inside. The engagement ring he had hoped to muster enough courage to give to Laura.

A while ago it took him a good two weeks to draw on paper the picture he'd had in his head; took him another month to find a jeweler who could implement his intricate design. It also cost a small fortune, but was worth every cent. A beautiful triangular diamond of amazing clarity mounted in a combination of white and yellow gold; simple, yet elegant lines underlined the beauty of the stone. There was nothing vulgar about it. Understated, unique, and beautiful... The perfect ring for an independent woman... How many times had he postponed the moment, waiting for time to be right? Well, there was nothing to wait for any more.

"Mildred! Could you come in here for a moment?" he called out.

Mildred rushed into the bedroom and was surprised as her boss - she couldn't think of him as of anybody else, even after she'd learned his secret - put in her palm a small object wrapped in one of his own handkerchiefs.

"Mildred, I don't quite know how to say this... You're the closest thing to a mother I've had. I want you to have... something to remember me by. It's not what one would call a suitable forget-me-not, but I didn't expect things ever come to that. I meant to give it to Laura when the time was right... but apparently, she made her choice."

"Oh, no, Boss; there has to be some explanation..."

"Mildred, there is only one explanation. And I don't blame Laura. After all I've put her through, she's probably right. Take care of her for me, all right? And do me a favor... don't open it until I'm gone, will you?"

"Mr. Steele..." Mildred was already crying.

He hugged her. "I'll miss you too, girl. I'll miss you too."

Steele kept waiting, against all odds, that Laura would come to see him leave. Just one last touch, one word, one glimpse of her.

"Mr. Steele?"

"Huh?"

"It's time. I'm sorry things didn't work out for you. I really am."

"It's not your fault, Ms. Becker."

He hugged Mildred, bid one last look to the crowd of reporters eager to get the story into the morning papers - and saw none of them. She hadn't come.

She groggily sat up on the couch. Strange... It didn't feel like a couch. In fact, it wasn't a couch at all. Now that her eyes were used to the darkness, she realized she was sitting on a pile of rugs in some forlorn alley. How the hell did she end up sleeping there? Of course... porno theaters, homeless shelters, pipes under highways... It was never going to end until they found who had killed them. Where was her partner-in-crime? Oh my God! Had it really been just a dream? She was going to marry that lousy ingrate on a boat.

Suddenly she remembered vividly. So, what had happened? She wasn't sure she would have remembered her own wedding in the lethargic state of mind and body she was currently in, but if she didn't get married... and if it was so dark, it must be past six... at least she knew that... then it meant... No, that couldn't be... Laura, you better find a telephone... And you better find it fast.

You were going to ask her so many times, and just as many times, you chickened out. You were afraid of losing your independence, were afraid of making a commitment, and then, later, were just afraid of rejection. You were afraid Laura wouldn't believe you. Well, now there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. You've got your answer. Laura made her choice, that was clear enough. The only question remained - what to do with his independence.

He didn't want to believe that Laura had stood him up... not like this, with no explanation, just running away from him like from the plague. She must hate him for what he'd done... Hell, he hated himself. Well, at least one of her feelings for him was strong enough that she'd chosen him over her Agency... But she'd chosen to leave him, though.

In the very back of his mind was still a thought about how very much unlike Laura it was to pull such a stunt, but it hurt even more to think she had gotten into trouble. He was now miles and miles away, unable able to help her, and sure that she wouldn't accept his help even if he offered it... What possibly could have happened to fully-capable-to-take-care-of-herself Laura Holt, PI, to cause her to vanish from her loft without a trace?

He closed his eyes like a scared toddler, desperately hoping all his fears would disappear if he couldn't see them.

"Oh, Miss Holt! Where are you?"

"What's going on? I called Mr. Steele..."

"Miss Holt! He's gone!"

"Gone..." Dirty pavement was moving faster and faster from beneath Laura's feet. Get a grip on yourself!

"He was deported!" Mildred explained. "Oh, Miss Holt, what happened? Where are you?"

"I don't know, Mildred. I've got to get home. See you in the morning." She hung up before Mildred could say anything else. Where one could get a cab in this God-forsaken place? And where was this place, anyway? Icy calm, Laura. Icy calm. Find a cab, get home, and collect your thoughts - pertinent thoughts, not those that involve... well, you-know-who...

He must have finally dozed off. The plane was about to land. What was he going to do now? Not that he really cared, might as well just stand in the middle of Heathrow and wait until a suspicious bobby arrested him. As if that could solve anything...

He had liked being Remington Steele, but wasn't him anymore. It wasn't only the spotlight, luncheons, and recognition, he also liked helping people who came to him, liked solving puzzles and riddles... Whom was he kidding? Laura used to say he was good; he really had learned a lot over years, solved some cases, even saved her hide more than once - not that she would ever admit it - but without her wits, her determination, even her formal training, he could hardly keep going by himself, even if he took on doing all the legwork and paperwork.

Yeah, right... As if he could get a license in London now! They used to be a terrific team, Laura and him. She would have hard time running the Agency alone. She was so fragile, so vulnerable under that hard-as-nails façade...

Laura froze, suddenly realizing what that awful smell had been - it was the suffocating odor of cheap cigars. Keyes! It was Keyes! The bastard just wouldn't give up. He had to make sure he got rid of dangerous competition, and when his plan failed, he'd used chloroform as last resort. Now it all suddenly made sense.

"Miss Holt! You look terrible!" The familiar voice from behind startled Laura.

"Thank you, Mildred!" Yes, that's exactly what she needed right now - Mildred looked as though she has been crying all night.

"But what happened?" the older woman asked.

"Well, I was doped, kidnapped, and stashed away in some dirty alley. But otherwise I'm fine, thank you for asking. One hell of a honeymoon!"

"Doped? By whom?"

"By our friend Norman Keyes."

"That slime ball? But, Miss Holt, what are we going to do now? The Boss is gone! How are we..."

"Mildred, I don't have to remind you who the real head of the Agency is, do I? I did it once without Remington Steele in the picture, I can do it again."

"Miss Holt, how can you say that? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Mildred, I'm fine," Laura declared. "And if you don't mind, I'd actually like to get some sleep. We have business to conduct and a reputation to maintain. I will see you in the morning. Nine o'clock, as usual." She practically slammed the door, leaving shocked Mildred outside in the corridor.

"I'm sorry," Laura said weakly to no one as she slid to the floor. She just couldn't bear older woman's company; she couldn't spend the rest of the night crying over spilled milk. Laura Holt, PI, needed to compose her thoughts.

Well, whom was she kidding? Some PI. In the morning there will probably be nothing but cancellations anyway. She slowly moved to the couch. Hectic night was taking its toll. How the hell did it all happen? And what was she going to do?

Remington Steele handed the papers provided by Ms. Becker to the immigration officer. His passport had been confiscated since he had no right to it in the first place. Good thing nobody had bothered to ask how he had obtained it; Mildred could get into real trouble over her little ruse.

"Sir, would you step in here, please."

Steele entered a small room indicated by the officer.

The man who stood up from behind the desk looked disturbingly familiar. "Mr. Steele, under any other circumstances I would say how delighted I am to see you again."

"Inspector... Lombard?"

"Mr. Steele, it must be a surprise to see me here. Indeed, normally Scotland Yard isn't concerned with matters of Immigration, but if memory serves me right, I had to confiscate some of your passports less than a year ago - and now that you seem to have the same problem again, I feel at least involved. There is no official case as long as the police is concerned, I'm just here to ask you as a friend - I hope you would allow me to call you that - is there anything I can help you with?"

"All right, Inspector, what am I being charged with?"

Inspector Lombard shook his head in astonishment. Has this man heard even a word of his carefully prepared speech? Something was definitely wrong here. This wasn't the Mr. Steele he'd met, albeit briefly, over a year ago. Oh, the shell was the same, all right, but the light was gone.

"OK, Mr. Steele, why don't you finish your business with the Immigration officials, and then we shall talk."

"Good morning, Mildred!" Very businesslike Laura Holt breezed through the glass doors.

"Oh, that's how he used to greet me!" Mildred dropped into a nearby chair, dangerously close to tears again.

"Mildred, get a grip on yourself, please. We're trying to conduct business here." Laura paused. Business? Huh! Well, the least she could do was pretend she was still in business. "What do we have for today?" She hesitated. "Any cancellations so far?"

The shrill tone of Laura's voice made Mildred shiver. Business or not, upset or not, Miss Holt had never been like that before. Apparently, things were different now. And Mr. Steele wasn't around anymore to smooth rough edges the way he did sometimes...

"You have two new clients this afternoon. Mrs. Cummings wants the Remington Steele Agency to perform a background check of her new maid, and Mr. Brown is coming to discuss security system in his new house."

"Don't people read the papers anymore, Mildred? I'm sure we're already all over the front pages."

"I think they did. And I think you should read it, too. There are some copies in your office." Mildred turned away and pretended to dig in her drawer. It was better not to irritate Miss Holt in her bereaved state of mind.

Puzzled, Laura flipped through the morning editions on her desk. "Can Steele Agency Survive Without Steele?"... "Female Brain Behind the Male Facade"... "The Real Steele"... Quick reading showed that Mr. Steele hadn't wasted any time praising his "most able," "irreplaceable," "ingenious" associate, "a case of a student by far surpassing the teacher" (that ingrate!).

Laura was stunned. He'd had the decency to salvage the situation, to see that the Agency would suffer least possible damage, after all. Her Agency. What had you expected, Laura? That he would drag your name all over the papers in order to hurt his runaway bride? That was not his style; not only his as Mr. Steele, but, somehow Laura was sure even the stranger that had stepped into her life four years ago wouldn't have reduced himself to petty revenge.

The door opened without as much as a knock. Mildred came in, the picture of determination, and put an envelope on the desk. "Mr. Steele left you some papers."

Laura suspiciously looked inside.

"He signed them at the airport," Mildred added.

That was it. The Agency was officially hers, complete with long-deserved credit and even some new clients. Her dream has finally come true. Why did it feel so terribly wrong, then? She couldn't look Mildred in the eyes.

"Miss Holt, I may be out of line, and if so, I still have the IRS pension coming, but I think you should do something about it." Laura opened her mouth, but Mildred went on. "I don't know what happened between you and the Boss and that Latin tutor or whoever she is, but I was with Mr. Steele last night, and if that man wasn't heartbroken, then I don't know anything about life." Mildred hesitated. "He gave me this."

Laura opened a small velvet box and gasped. The ring was absolutely beautiful - and somehow spoke of him - as though he managed to find a soul mate in a piece of crystallized carbon and a couple of wires. You must be out of you mind if you see his image in an...

"Mildred, Mr. Steele gave you an engagement ring?" Laura pronounced the last words very, very carefully.

"He said he had wanted to give it to you, but..." Mildred hesitated, half-expecting to be interrupted, but Laura didn't say anything, and she went on. "But since you'd changed your mind - it seemed you had at the time, Miss Holt - he gave it to me to remember him by." She sobbed. "He said you had made the right choice."

"Mildred, I want you to cancel all my appointments. Get me on the first flight to London and find me a phone number for this Estelle Becker."

"Right away, Miss Holt!"

"That's very generous of you, Inspector."

"Oh, that is nothing, really. I would like to help if I can, and you seem to be too tired for any long conversation. So, where shall I drop you?"

Remington paused for a moment. He had already asked himself the same question. He didn't like impersonal atmosphere of hotels; no matter how expensive they were or for how long one had stayed there, they still made one feel temporary, still carried signs of uprootedness, of a rolling stone - the stigma of his old profession. He didn't feel like facing Daniel either. Sure, his old friend would understand; seeing his protégé's mental state, Daniel wouldn't probably even ask any questions. Still, he just wanted to be alone.

There was one more problem, however; he didn't have much cash. He has saved some money over the course of years, of course; during his old days as well as while being Remington Steele. He had always been good at investments; he just hadn't expected to need them on such short notice. Ironic, wasn't it? Four years ago he would never even have considered making long-term investments, knowing he might need money any second. Life had been too good to him lately... Too good to last, it seemed... And now it would take him some time to turn his investments to cash. Of course, he still had the Agency cards and he was sure Laura wouldn't mind if he kept using them for a while; after all, he could always repay her. It just didn't feel right somehow. Not after she'd run away on him.

That left him with Daniel's - and let's hope he's out of town, mate.

It was practically impossible to create a false identity that could withstand serious scrutiny; any private investigator would know that, of course. What did that leave him with? No, Lombard didn't buy the entire story. Nobody could survive on the streets in Brixton by living honest life on the right side of the law, not a kid, anyway. And no honest citizen would own five passports from five countries in five different names - those forgeries were state of art and must have cost a small fortune. No honest citizen would need them in the first place. Not to mention illegal entry to England years ago to begin with.

Nevertheless, Inspector Lombard felt truly sorry for his colleague - well, perhaps Mr. Steele wasn't exactly a colleague, but still, they were doing essentially the same job, weren't they? He wasn't about to question his past indiscretions. It was obvious that a man with Mr. Steele's connections could get just one more passport and put all his trouble in the past, but apparently, he wanted to do it the right and hard way. The Inspector admired that. But what could he do to establish identity for someone with such murky past?

A conversation with Estelle Becker was the first bucket of cold water poured over her determination. While Ms. Becker was truly shocked when Laura told her about Keyes's role in the events of the previous evening, what was done (and documented!) couldn't be undone that easily.

For one thing, Miss Holt undoubtedly could prove none of her accusations - it was her word against Keyes's that he had even been to the area that night. Laura had known that well enough; she never saw the bastard, and just about everyone in the city could get his hands on the same brand of cheap cigars.

The second problem was that, once deported, a person could not gain legal entry to the US easily. If they were able to prove Keyes's interference with the marriage, maybe - maybe! - they could claim the deportation was, if not illegal, then at least erroneous; then given a good lawyer and a fair amount of time, perhaps they could arrange for Mr. Steele's return. Without that, all they could do was to get married, have Remington apply for a visa, and hope it'd be granted in about two years. Miss Holt was free to come back to the States, of course, but their marriage would be placed under tight scrutiny, which meant she would have to visit her husband quite regularly in his place of residence, take a lot of pictures proving their close relationship, and be ready to answer intimate and embarrassing questions when her husband's case was to be reviewed.

Laura was shocked. Being born in the US, she had never given much thought to the immigration laws. Two years? Running the Agency alone, visiting him in England, having strangers take pictures of the happy couple passionately kissing in front of major London attractions, and baring her soul in front of every peeper who had proper authority to ask her to do so? That was tough enough by itself, but the bigger problem was that she had no idea what it would gain for either of them. She had no idea if he would even want to go back to the States with her. May be he had already dismissed his former associate and had turned his roving attention toward more receptive targets. And she... Did she really need him? Professionally? The Agency belonged to her, the current PR was good, and given some time and determination, she was quite likely to get out of this disaster almost intact. True, it was going to be hard at first, not to have a flashy front man to attend boring luncheons and glad-hand the clients. Well, frankly, it was just going to be hard without him - period. She was used to having him around, to using him as a sounding board as she recapitulated facts and guesses; she had even learned to depend on his often times crazy but nevertheless helpful and inspirational theories. Not that she had ever admitted it, but she would have never solved some of her cases without him.

But what about her - not hard-as-nails Laura Holt, PI, but just Laura? He hurt her deeply, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to forgive him. If not for that ring, she would have said 'No' and tried her best to forget him. But the ring and Mildred's words about broken heart had gotten through to her. What was that all about? And then him telling Mildred she'd made the right choice. She couldn't just let him believe she'd dumped him like that. She needed to see him once more, to face her Man of Steele, and to ask him all those questions that had been haunting her during the past hours. To wring the confession out of him, if she had to. To explain what had happened. To clear herself of guilt for thinking, even briefly, that he had been behind her kidnapping in that small dark alley. It didn't make any sense, but as usual, she had blamed him; it was in the order of things.

What would happen next? She didn't know; perhaps nothing. Still, practically on the whim she had proceeded with her plan - she had swung by his apartment to get Daniel's address, told Mildred to hold the fort while gently refusing her offer to tag along, and boarded the plane without even pausing to think. Was she afraid she'd back off if she slowed down? And what exactly was it she was afraid of? She didn't know that, either.

During that time Harry had only left the room - and the flat - once, muttering something about having an appointment and coming back soon - only the old Harry would have never gone out in a suit that looked as though it had been slept in, which Daniel suspected was true.

Daniel had tried once to check on him. He entered the room, careful not to wake 'the boy'. The room was dark, the curtains drawn; Harry lay on unmade bed on his back fully dressed, shoes on, arms laced behind his head. As Daniel came close, he saw that his eyes were open. Harry was staring at something far beyond the white ceiling. Then he had slightly moved his head and looked at Daniel with the same empty eyes.

"Sorry, my boy, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"That's OK."

"I've made a spot of tea, thought maybe..." That was a lie, and both knew it. "Well, if you need anything, I'll be around."

He was already at the door when Harry said, "Thank you, mate."

Since then Daniel has been waiting. Whatever it was, it must've had something to do with that unflappable Miss Holt, and with every minute passing he was more and more determined to call her and try to find something out. He was seriously considering picking up the phone when the door creaked open.

"Harry..." he said in relief.

Harry raised his hand, as though asking his mentor to stop. "Daniel, I guess you do need an explanation, I just don't feel like talking right now."

"Whatever is the best for you, my boy. I'm here."

Harry covered his bleary eyes with one hand, trying to block the light, and then, impulsively, stepped toward Daniel and embraced him.

The doorbell rang, sending shock waves down his spine. In panic, he whispered, "Daniel!"

"What?"

"If it's Laura, get rid of her." He realized he must have sounded very strange, Daniel's concerned face was showing it better than any mirror ever could. "I know it's crazy, just play along with it, OK? I'm not here, and you haven't heard from me in a while."

Daniel waited while he quietly retreated to his room.

"Daniel, I need to see him."

"Him? Are you implying Harry has finally flown the coop? Left your fair city in quest for..."

"Daniel, I'm not in the mood for exchanging pleasantries. It is very important that I speak to Mr. Steele. Where is he?"

"Linda, I am naturally very flattered by your assumption that Harry should come to me straight away, but if he indeed has moved to better pastures, I strongly doubt he would show up in England for quite some while. He's always loved Europe, and the Riviera is truly lovely this time of the year."

"Daniel, I know he is in London. Where is he?"

"My dear, you have one-track mind. I haven't heard from him for quite some time now, and if Harry has left you..."

"He hasn't left me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He didn't leave me; he was deported."

For a moment Daniel grew silent, letting the words sink before finally saying, "Come again, please?"

From behind the door, Remington could hear everything that was being said in the living room. As Laura began telling Daniel the events of the past few days, he had to lean against the wall for support. Damn Keyes! That slime! That pig! How could he ever have believed she had left him? Betrayed him? How could he have accepted it so easily? He should've done something, but he just believed the worst in her and left.

And he - he should've gone to the hotel; any rotten, dump hole would've been better than standing in this room and listening to Laura, so close and yet, so far. He wanted to hold her, touch her, cup her face with his hands, and tell her it all was a big, huge, tremendous mistake, to tell her how he loved her, how he would give up everything to be with her. But he couldn't. He had to let her go, let her get on with her life. She wouldn't find him and, with time, the memory of the scoundrel that had once turned her life upside down would fade and become just what it should be - memory. He didn't deserve her.

He heard tears in Laura's voice as she said, "Daniel, please, help me." If she saw him, Remington knew he wouldn't be able to let her go... He knew she wouldn't go. "I must talk to him, I must explain..."

"Linda, dear, if Harry is in London, he will come to me sooner or later. Why don't you just write him? Apparently you know my address, I shall see that the letter finds him."

"Daniel, don't give me that crap! He is here, and I know it!"

"Linda, your perception must have a basis, but the logic of it escapes me. If I am telling you I don't know where Harry is..."

"That's his ring on the mantle."

Damn it. Some detective. Some thief, too. He couldn't even hide properly anymore. Must've removed his ring when he crawled out of his room.

"Where? Oh, but that's not Harry's ring; that's mine. They're identical. Hasn't he ever told you the story behind them? It's quite fascinating..."

"Daniel, is that what he has told you to tell me?"

"Told me what? About the rings? I'm afraid we'd had those before Harry became Remington Steele."

"Did he ask you to tell me he wasn't here?"

God save us from smart women! Now what? He had inflicted enough pain on her already; could he let her think he'd dismissed her as an unwanted item?

"But Linda, he isn't!"

"Hello, Laura," Remington said as he opened the door and left the safety of his room.

Laura turned to face him. She was truly beautiful in her rage - hair flying away from her lovely face, cheeks aglow, blazing eyes... Ready to incinerate the man who has stolen her heart, stomped on it, and apparently wasn't even going to look back.

"So that's it. So much like you. What's the matter? Didn't..." she gasped, having realized the way he looked. "What happened to you? Did you sleep in that suit?"

"Um... No. I don't think I've slept at all since I left LA. Lovely to see you again."

Neither noticed as Daniel has quickly excused himself. If he knew anything about those two, right now an erupting volcano might prove to be a safer neighbor, and he wanted to be safely out of the line of fire...

"Lovely to see me? Somehow I find it hard to believe! Didn't you ask Daniel to get rid of me? While standing behind that door and listening to every word, having fun, no doubt! I must admit, that letter bit was ingenious, I almost bought it!"

"Laura, I had a good reason."

"Good reason not to see me? You always have a good reason for everything! For standing me up, for not being honest with me, for running away with that call girl, for not even being able to face me after all you've done to me!"

"Laura, you didn't travel six thousand miles to make a scene, did you?"

"No, I didn't!" Her voice was breaking, tears were brimming in her eyes. She drew a deep breath and continued, "I wanted to explain what happened. I couldn't very well have you think I left you in the lurch, could I? Would've served you right, though, to step in my shoes for a change."

Damn it, that was not what she was going to say, not at all. What was in this man that was taking her breath away and replacing her brains at the same time? Why couldn't she just say how empty her life had suddenly became in a matter of hours? How she wanted him back? Wanted to work things out between them?

"You were worried what I might think of you?"

How can he be so calm? "Something like that."

"You could've just called, then."

Silence fell in the room for a moment. Neither knew what to say.

Finally, Laura calmly said, "I guess, it's been a mistake. I shouldn't have come."

That was too much; he was only human. He caught her arm as she was already halfway to the door and said, "Laura, listen to me. Please, listen. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of what I've said, but I did have a reason to drive you away. If you'll just please listen!"

"Let go of me!"

He turned her around, blocking her escape. "I will, but please, just listen first. Give me five minutes of your time. You came here to see me; please, don't go yet," he pleaded, removing his hands off her.

"I most certainly did not!"

"Laura, for five minutes, can we behave like mature, responsible adults? If you're so sure you didn't want to see me, what are you doing here?"

"All right, I did."

"Did? But not anymore, right?"

"Damn right. Now what was that all about?"

"I knew if I saw you once more, I wouldn't be able to let you go."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You came to get me back, didn't you?"

Laura pursed her lips.

"Didn't you?"

"Alright. We had an agreement, after all. A bargain. We needed each other - professionally... I mean, it's obvious you like being Remington Steele if you've stayed around for so long, and you were good at it... It is only fair to keep my end of the bargain, to... Damn it! Why did you do that to me? Why did you have to hurt me like that? Why didn't you tell me?"

She was screaming already, finally unleashing all her anger, all her pain, all her guilt... She hit him with her fist, but he didn't grab her arm, didn't dodge, didn't even cringe. He just kept looking at her with his incredible eyes, only repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She looked in his pain-filled eyes and decided to lay all of her cards on the table. "Mildred gave me the ring. Why did you change your mind?"

"I didn't."

"Listen you, after all you've done to me the least you can do is to give me one straight answer. What is it so wrong with me that drives away all the men in my life? Why?"

"Laura, I didn't change my mind. I wanted to give it to you; I've had it for quite some time. Only I was too afraid - of you, of myself, of us, of how you might react... And every time I could muster nearly enough courage to propose, something unexpected would come up. It always seemed there would be another time, another chance. And then I got a call from Immigration, and the hell broke loose."

"Why didn't you tell me then? Why didn't you trust me? I've stood behind you so many times already, what's one more?"

"And what would you have wanted me to do instead? Just think of the best possible scenario - what if I came to you and told you all about the problem with Immigration? What would you do if I had been totally honest with you? Would you have married me? To stop me from being deported? To save the Agency?"

"Of course I would have!"

"And would you ever, ever, ever have believed our marriage was real?" She opened her mouth, but he went on. "I am not talking about bed now; I am talking about trust. Your trust. Something I have never been able to earn. Would you ever trust me enough to really accept such a marriage? To believe that I married you because I wanted to be with you and not because it was the only way to remain Remington Steele? Laura? Please, look me in the eyes and tell me how big a fool I was. Tell me how wrong I was."

She was speechless. The worst thing was that he was right. Yes, he knew her better that anybody else, even herself. Looking down, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He lifter her chin and smudged tears with his thumbs. "It's my fault. I've been such a fool. I don't deserve you."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry."

He pulled her closer. "Laura, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I was stupid enough to ruin it. I don't want to ruin you as well. That's why I asked Daniel to lie. That's why I tried to drive you away. I can't..."

"I don't understand."

But she was beginning to; her eyes told him that. "It's over," he said. "Don't you see?"

"So, you've decided to fold? To resign yourself to your fate? To leave me for my own good? Don't you remember you promised never to do that?"

"I remember. And I would have never left you on my own will. But now, I refuse to take you down with me."

"Well, it's not over yet. We can bring you back - that is, if you want to, of course..." She suddenly felt so unsure. She was doing it again, but this time he chose not to notice.

"No, we cannot. You might not know the Immigration laws, but I've had a crash course recently."

"OK, it's not going to be easy. But I talked to Estelle Becker, and she explained the situation. Two years. We can do it."

"You don't get it, do you? It's not that simple. I cannot go back to the States. I cannot go anywhere. I cannot even marry you. I simply don't exist."

"You don't... What?"

"I don't exist. Mr. Nobody from Nowhere. I've had a little talk with the local authorities already. It's bad enough that I don't have a single document in my name, but I have no idea what that name is. Apparently, no bureaucratic machine can properly operate on such scarce data."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning that right now, the British authorities are graciously allowing me to stay in London, which, incidentally, I am not supposed to leave, while they are trying to decide what to do with me - given the circumstances, it might take indefinitly long time."

"I could stay with you, then."

"Doing what? Starting as an apprentice at another detective Agency, slaving to get your license, building your reputation from a scratch?"

"I did it once."

"Would you really leave everything for me? Your family, your friends, your Agency? Everything you have?" He was looking her straight in the eyes now.

"Yes," she said it with all the determination she could muster.

"And how soon 'til you come to hate me for that? Hm? Laura?"

He had her there. He was right again, and she knew it. She knew he could read the answer in her eyes; the answer he'd known before even asking the question.

"I won't do that to you. I love you too much."

He finally said it. She had been waiting for so long, and he finally said it. Be careful what you wish for...

"So, that's it?" She wasn't sure if she even said that, she was sobbing, tears run down her cheeks.

Remington hugged her, trying to offer comfort, to reassure, to ease her pain, showering the top of her head with little kisses. "Don't cry, love," he pleaded. "Don't cry."

She weakly nodded and pulled away. "I need... to think. I'm sorry."

"Laura, I promise you, if I can come back to you as Remington Steele, I will."

She nodded again and made a step back. Anything to escape this piercing, heart-tearing pain. Pain inflicted on her, pain she inflicted on him. She had never realized how much she had hurt him during all these years together. She wasn't thinking clearly anymore, she only knew - if she stayed here one more minute, she would never be able to leave, and then - God, why was he always right about her?!

Neither heard the door to Daniel's room creak.

Laura? For once he decided to use her real name? Laura snapped out of her reverie at the sign of danger. She had always been sure he remembered it, but using it must surely mean something extraordinary was about to happen.

"Not now, Daniel," Remington protested.

"I'm afraid, now's the time, Harry. And Laura, dear, I think you should stay and listen, too. Before you ask - I've heard what you were talking about. It's the easiest thing I have to admit today, so please, just be kind to sit down and listen."

They sat down - Laura and Remington on the love seat, as far from each other as possible, Daniel in a chair opposite them.

"Harry, this confession is very hard for me, but before you storm out of this flat and my life, please, try to understand why I did... well, what I did."

"Daniel..."

"Harry, please, don't interrupt. You wanted to know it, and know it you shall." He took a deep breath and blurted, "I am your father, Harry."

Laura looked up to Daniel in complete astonishment. Yes, it made sense. A thought had occurred to her in the past that it was quite unlikely for a man such as Daniel Chalmers to pick up a street urchin and play Professor Higgins with him, but she had dismissed it as something impertinent...

A movement suddenly caught her attention.

Steele was standing up, his face a pale mask of anger and disgust as he said, "You? All these years? You...!" His voice was dangerously low, but Laura could see the storm coming.

"Harry, at least listen to me! I am sorry, Harry! Please, listen to me!"

"You can be as sorry as you want - in hell!"

"Remington!" Laura suddenly said, not even thinking of what she was going to say next. She couldn't let it go down like that.

He turned around, already in the doorway. "What did you say?"

"Harry, I said I was sorry."

"Laura. Do you realize it is the first time you've called me Remington?"

Laura paused. Did she really do that? He was already turning away when she finally whispered, "Remington, don't go."

He looked at her again.

She continued, "Don't you at least want to know the truth?"

"What truth? That he was lying to me all these years? I don't think I care to hear any more, Laura. Come with me, please."

Laura made a step toward him. She was sorry for him; he said the last words as a scared child might ask his mother. But he wasn't a child anymore, and she needed all her strength to help him now. To stop him from doing something he would regret. "How many times did you not tell me something and then claimed it was in my best interest not to know?" One more step. "How many times did you blame me for doing the same to you?" Just one more. She was right in front of him now. "Do you really have the right to pass judgment yet? At least listen what the man has to say. You've always wanted to know, don't run away from it now! Come back and listen!"

She had him there. He sat down and looked at Daniel. "OK. I'm listening."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably and begun his story. "In 1950, I met an amazing woman. Tall, slim, beautiful, dark hair, eyes as blue as pieces of sky, and the most charming smile I've ever seen. A hell of a con artist, too. I'm sorry to disappoint you, my boy, but your talents seem to be rather genetic. Anyway, Eileen was also the kindest person I'd encountered... to be honest, I hadn't encountered many... We fell in love, decided to get married and settle down somewhere.

"But how could a man with rather - unorthodox - skills provide for a family? We decided to pull one final score, open a small business, and live happily ever after. I still don't know what went wrong - an overzealous guard, a tripped alarm we'd known nothing about or just a stroke of bad luck. Doesn't matter anymore. The police got me, but I managed to give Eileen enough time to get away.

"You didn't know I spent time in prison, did you, Harry? Well, I did. I was sentenced to five years for attempted robbery. Served two. The police thought I was working alone, so it was safe for Eileen to visit me. For a while we thought it was merely a temporary setback... but then Eileen broke the news. She was pregnant - and absolutely terrified. Her previous... line of work was out of question; she had been mortified by such close call and wouldn't attempt any more robberies, even if I had been willing for her to take such risk. She couldn't find a job, either, any job - unemployment was high those days and she was, after all, an unwed mother.

"She stayed nearby for a while so she could visit me, but then couldn't hide her pregnancy anymore and decided to go back to her mother and stepfather, who lived in Ireland. I don't think they were very happy having an unwed mother live with them and they definitely didn't approve of her lifestyle, but at least she had a place to stay. She was going to have our baby at the nearby convent; it was one of the places that typically help those in need. Only about the time you were to be born, the letters stopped. She had been writing to me at least once a week when she first moved to Ireland, and then suddenly, nothing. Not a line.

"I was going crazy, not knowing what had happened, but what could I do? When I was released, I got on the first boat to Ireland and went to Eileen's parents' house, but her stepfather wouldn't talk to me. I asked, begged, beseeched, nearly threw myself at the bastard's feet until finally he threatened to call the police. One of the neighbors was kind enough to tell me what happened. My Eileen... she had died giving birth to a baby boy, who was released from the convent into the care of his grandparents. Your grandfather wanted nothing to do with the child, but your grandmother insisted, your being the only grandchild she would ever have.

"Unfortunately, she passed away six or seven months later, and the first thing the old bugger did after the wake was to give you away to some distant cousins. The poor neighbor didn't know who they were, or where they lived... didn't even know whether they were related to Eileen or to her stepfather. They must have come from afar, since she had never seen them before.

"I tried, believe me, Harry; I really tried, but I could never find out what happened to you. I couldn't find out who those people you lived with were or where you were sent. The only thing I found was Eileen's grave at the convent. I had no choice but to go on with my life, but I never recovered from the loss of the woman I loved or from the loss of my only child. For a while, I kept looking at every boy your age and asking myself, 'Could that be my boy?'

"Then one day I saw you in Brixton. You are your mother's image, Harry. It was like lightning, seeing her eyes in a dirty street boy hustling for a quid. Those eyes... for years I'd dreamed of them... I still do... I used to call her Eileen-All-Eyes..." Daniel kept silent for a while, as if trying to send the vision away. "Well, you know the rest."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Remington asked

"Harry, you can see for yourself how you've reacted just now. When I found you, I wanted to tell you the truth... I even tried to raise the subject once, but quickly realized it could only buy me one of two things - a knife in the back or your storming out of my life for good. And quite frankly, I don't know which one would've been worse. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, Harry. By the way, my dear, I am eternally thankful to you for not letting him leave." He stood up and bent to kiss Laura's hand.

"Don't try to change the subject, mate. Why didn't you tell me later, when you knew I was trying to find out who I was? Where I came from? Sure you could've found the way."

"Tell you what, Harry? 'Sorry, my boy, your parents were thieves'? Was that the identity you were looking for?"

"Why did you send me watch, then?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"I crossed paths with Paddy several times through the years. He knew about you, of course - just as much as anybody else - and must've decided the watch was a good way to lure you to Ireland. God knows why he hadn't just asked you for help. If you recall, I only learned about the watch during our... unfortunate encounter with the Earl of Claridge."

"All that trouble with Immigration for not having the right papers - any papers, for that matter - and the answer was right here!"

"Harry, if you recall, you never mentioned having problems with Immigration. Besides, there is something else you've got to know..."

"Give. It can hardly get any worse." Remington was so shocked with the news that hadn't even noticed Laura had moved closer to him and was now holding his hand.

"It can, believe me. The convent you were born in never filed any papers at your birth. They must've thought it was more appropriate for your grandparents to do so. However, either the nuns neglected to inform them or your grandmother neglected to do it, so... you really don't have a name. I only called you Harry because I'd always imagined that's what my son's name should be. The only record I could find was that of a baby boy born to Eileen O'Reilly. Unfortunately, the convent burned down eight or none years ago, and their entire registry was destroyed by the fire - I did try to find more for you, my boy, after you became Remington Steele. For what it's worth, Harry, I'm very, very sorry. I failed you more than I would care to admit. If there is any way I can... Well, I'll be leaving now; you know how to find me if you need to." Daniel stood up with a shrug.

"Daniel, why did you tell me now? What changed?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Daniel."

"I was always afraid of losing you again. Only... when you came through that door... I realized I already had."

"Had what?"

"Lost you. You were not my Harry anymore; not the man I used to know. You were a walking corpse, whose soul had been left elsewhere. You must mean a great deal to him, my dear. I don't think what I've told can help you in any way, but at least I felt you should both know the truth."

Steele stood up, also, and Laura let go of his hand, though he didn't even seem to notice. "Daniel," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, Harry?"

"I should at least have listened. It's too much altogether now... I just need some time."

"I understand. I shall go now."

"Don't. I... I don't want to lose you, too. Don't go." He touched Daniel's shoulder, and a second later pulled the older man into an embrace. "I need you, mate."

"Harry, you do need some time to sort things out. And I want to be alone for a while." Daniel admitted. "I shall be back by the morning."

"Promise?"

"Indeed, my boy. Laura, my dear, thank you so much again."

Laura watched the door close behind Daniel's back. If it was too much even for her, how did it make Harry feel? Looking up, she saw that he was still standing where Daniel had left him, immobilized. Lost.

She went to him and put her hand on his arm, saying, "I'm so very sorry."

He jumped slightly and looked at her, as though having realized for the first time she was in the same room. "So, that's it, isn't it? Mr. Nobody... guilty as charged. Ironic, isn't it? Now, of all times. After so many years of searching, I finally find out I don't exist."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're babbling... Calm down, please."

"I guess I'm not much of a detective after all, am I?"

"Mr. St... Remington... I can stay with you tonight, if you want me to."

"Dusk-to-dawn pinochle champion? Thank you for the offer, really, but I'll be alright."

"If you're not up to anything more than that..."

"What?" He must be hearing things. "What do you mean?"

"Can I stay with you tonight? Please?"

"Laura, what are you saying?"

"I think you know." She was staring directly into his eyes now. "Look, I realize you are tired, shaken, confused... It might be not the best night... I am an adult, and I understand all that, but... do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

"You know I do..."

"But what?"

"Laura, I did everything I could to get us alone together, but I wouldn't have you sleep with me out of pity. I can't..."

"It's not pity."

"What, then? You know our chances to have any kind of future together as well as I do."

"I just want to be with you. If you ever come back, I'll be there waiting. If not... if not, I just want to have this night to remember. Please?" She pulled his head down into a kiss, first probing, testing, then more and more passionate - until he pulled back.

"Laura, if I need to marry a US citizen to come back to LA, will you marry me?"

"I will."

He looked down into her deep brown eyes. "Will you marry me for real? Will you?"

"I will."

He brought his lips to hers and whispered. "Laura, I swear I'll do everything in my power to come back. There must be a way..."

Their lips met. There had to be a way, and together they would find it...

To be continued in Part 2 of the Trilogy...