"Really, Laura, was it necessary to have an office Halloween party?" Remington inquired.

"It's just as good an occasion for a party as anything else. Besides, isn't it a bit late to complain about it now?" she pointed out. "Just remove those remaining cobwebs, and we can go home."

The time was past six and the party was over. They were the only two remaining in the empty office. Mildred was coming down with the flu and Laura had sent her home, having insisted she would clean up the mess with Mr. Steele. Laura didn't really take Remington's ranting to heart since she knew he wasn't one to complain about spending a few hours alone with his "associate"; she knew it was basically just conversation to fill the silence while they spent the evening blotting the spills and removing the various wall decorations.

Remington was very fond of their surrogate 'office mother,' but she had the worst timing he had encountered. And not only that, but he wished somebody would give her a tip or two about her clothing! Her holiday outfit alone had threatened to give him a severe headache. He cringed, remembering the black shawl worn over the pumpkin-colored, Christmas-tree-shaped dress.

Laura, on the other hand, looked positively appealing. Her black pants and shirt outlined her slim shape, and they were set off to perfection by her leaf-shaped, auburn-colored jewelry. Having never seen the accessories before, he was wondering if she had purchased the jewelry especially for the occasion.

He gave her a sideways look, wondering if, perhaps, this year's Halloween bash had been inspired because she was unhappy about living in the artistic neighborhood. Laura's choice of living quarters was beyond his understanding, but one thing was certain - there wouldn't be many kids in her community banging down her door, shamelessly demanding candy. Of course, there wouldn't be many trick-or-treaters at his flat, either. As far as he was concerned, however, it was a rather good thing not to be bothered by the pesky little visitors, but he could tell that Laura missed them.

"But we never had an office Halloween party before!" Remington complained, picking off creepy spiders that looked way too comfortable on the office plants.

"Well, an oversight on our part, no doubt," Laura stated, squaring her shoulders and bringing her chin up. "Now is a good time to start a new tradition."

"Or maybe until now, you were just afraid your newly acquired Remington Steele was going to embarrass you," he retorted.

"Well, aren't you glad I'm not afraid of that this year, then?"

"Ecstatic," he muttered, trying to remove some very stubborn cobwebs from the top of the fichus.

He hadn't meant to start an argument, but holidays always made him feel lonely - especially Celtic holidays. He had thought of getting a dog once or twice in the past, but with his ever-changing address, it had always been out of the question. After he became Remington Steele, the thought of adopting a dog from a local shelter had occurred again, but his encounter with Major Descoine had reminded him just how fragile his newly acquired position was. He had come so close to losing it all - and it wasn't even his fault! Who knew when a blast from his own inglorious past would force him to abandon everything? He wouldn't wish such a fate on a dog.

The unintended pun made him shiver.

Though she was busy with the remnants of cups and plates, Laura noticed his silence. Thinking it was the result of the earlier remark about him embarrassing the Agency, she tried to amend the awkward situation. "Come on," she urged cheerfully, "Where is your holiday spirit?"

"I just don't understand what the fuss is about it," he confessed. "I got a postcard from my dentist wishing me a happy Halloween. It had one of those toothless pumpkins that was undoubtedly meant to remind me what my smile will look like should I forget my next appointment."

"Bear up, Mr. Steele; dentists have to make a living, just like private investigators."

"Is that why we had an office party this year?"

"There is nothing wrong with having a few laughs and dispensing candy to trick-or-treaters who just happen to be our neighbors," she pointed out. "I say it went rather nicely. We should have a Christmas party this year, too." Seeing there was no reaction from him, she added, "Besides, aren't you Irish? I thought Halloween was an Irish holiday."

"It's a Celtic holiday," he clarified absent-mindedly.

"See?"

"But, Laura, it's supposed to be celebrated the day before the Celtic New Year, which is the end of the season of the sun and the beginning of the season of darkness and cold. Darkness and cold," he emphasized, spreading his arms to drive the point home and causing the darned cobweb sneak back in place. "Where do you see darkness and cold around here? It's almost November, but I bet the next party we're invited to will be held by a swimming pool in the world of hot tubs and saunas, surrounded by bikini-clad women."

"I didn't know you had anything against bikini-clad women," she commented matter-of-factly.

"I'm all for bikini-clad women," he muttered.

The damn cobweb finally yielded and was now forming a pitiful white pile at his feet. He moved closer to Laura, placing his arms around her waist. "Especially one particular bikini-clad woman," he amended. "What say we have our own celebration of cold and darkness, complete with a warmly lit fireplace and a very special woman clad in a very small bikini..."

A few paper decorations fell from Laura's hands. "I wonder who she might be?" she mischievously murmured, trying to free herself from his embrace.

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" he asked.

"I'm sure I will, when the time is right."

She finally disentangled herself from his arms and went back to cleaning the remnants of the party.

For a while, the only noise heard in the office were the sounds of plastic cups and paper decorations ending their existence in a black garbage bag.

As Remington removed the black and orange stripes which were hanging from the ceiling, his thoughts went back to the Halloween weekend he and Laura had shared three years earlier. He had only been Remington Steele for a few weeks and had been totally unaware of America's fascination with Halloween.

While the children around the country were nestled in their beds with visions of ghosts and candy dancing in their heads, he and Laura had spent their evening driving in circles around Los Angeles, first trying to elude the CIA and then joining forces with them as they searched for Sheldon Quarry. He smiled as he recalled sleeping with Laura in a rented car and, later, holding her in his arms as they shared a tango.

"T'as de beaux yeux tu sais," Laura suddenly whispered, drawing him out of his memories.

The soft sound of her voice made him turn around. Obviously unaware that he could hear her, she was talking to a wall decoration in a form of a black cat with huge, luminescent eyes. At first, he wondered why she spoke in French instead of English, but then he decided it was probably an effort to shield herself from the outside world.

"Vous ressemblez mon Nero," she added before reluctantly peeling the decoration off the wall.

Remington knew Laura was referring to the cat she used to own. When her house had been blown up, Nero had moved with his mistress into the loft, but after a couple of days, he had vanished. Laura had been distressed until one of her former neighbors called and told her the cat had returned to the ruins of her house. She had retrieved him and taken him back to the loft, but had he run off again. When the same neighbor assured her that Nero would be taken care of, she had given up. Nero was obviously attached to her former neighborhood, and she knew it wasn't fair to keep him in such an urban district anyway.

Remington turned his attention back to the paper stripes, knowing his involuntary eavesdropping would embarrass his partner. He knew she missed her old house and all the little mementos that had gone up in flames with it, but he hoped the pain had subsided by now. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how to begin.

"Bloody hell," he muttered instead.

The curse had nothing to do with his predicament with Laura. As he had removed the last of the cobwebs, one sneaky little piece had snagged one of the links of his I.D. bracelet and wouldn't come loose, despite his best efforts.

The feline decoration was already off the wall, so Laura came closer to see what the problem was.

"Here, let me help," she offered.

The white strands easily yielded to her agile fingers, but she didn't rush to release Remington's hand. Instead, she turned the bracelet around and looked at the nameplate.

"The man with no name?" she commented, sounding slightly disappointed. "I've always wondered why it's blank."

He pulled her into his arms and said as honestly as he could, "Laura, what did you expect? I've had five passports in five different names, and I've lost track of how many aliases I've used through the years. I couldn't very well have an I.D. bracelet to match every one of them."

"Think how much easier it would have been in Ireland last year when you lost your memory if you'd had a name on it. What would have happened if you hadn't had my name and address on you?" she blurted out unexpectedly.

"Well, I did have your name and address on me," he pointed out, obviously not wanting to get into a discussion about it.

Still disappointed, she freed herself and went back to picking up trash from the floor. Though she was aware that the nameplate had been blank when he first arrived in LA, she had hoped he now felt comfortable enough with his new life to remedy that situation. Even if his bout with amnesia in Ireland hadn't been enough to convince him of the need to do it, she had hoped the passport she presented him in the name of Remington Steele would have inspired him. After all, if he really intended to stay with her in LA, what was keeping him from adding his name?

As Remington went back to the remaining paper stripes, he knew what Laura was probably thinking. But the problem went deeper than the name on the bracelet. Over the years, he had gotten used to the blank plate, but he had never gotten used to not knowing his true identity. When he had received the pocket watch the previous year, it had seemed like divine intervention... a chance not only to learn his real name, but to present it to Laura as a proof of his commitment.

In a way, the London fiasco had been a blessing, finally putting some things in perspective for him. Losing that last hope of establishing his identity had caused him to realize that he really wanted to be accepted as Remington Steele. One problem still remained, however - he wasn't entirely sure if Laura was ready to agree with it.

When she and Mildred had given him the passport in London, he thought Laura had finally accepted that he wasn't just an actor playing a role - that she finally saw him as a true partner. But while working on the recent case involving Crunch Kramer, she had again reminded him that he was merely a figurehead with a name she had given him.

For a while, they were busy stuffing cups, plates, and spiders into two big garbage bags.

Remington broke the silence first, asking, "Do you remember the Sheldon Quarry case?"

"What about it?"

"The CIA? Our first night together?"

"Oh, yes... our first night together," she recalled. "I must admit that waking up to you saying 'Finally, we're sleeping together' was quite a prelude to my Halloween."

"Come on. It wasn't all that bad, was it?"

"No," Laura said, smiling. "You made a wonderful alarm clock."

"Laura, just say the word and I'll be happy to be your alarm clock every morning."

"No, thank you."

"That's three words, not one," he corrected. "And not quite the one I hoped for."

"Well, aren't you afraid I'll get bored with such an eloquent alarm clock?"

"Really, Laura," he said, his hurt pride hiding the sparkles in his eyes. "How frequently do you replace your alarm clock?"

She saw he was enjoying the exchange, so she continued. "Is that all you want to be - an alarm clock? If that's the case, I think I can find you a spot on my nightstand."

"I could sing you a lullaby or two, every now and then," he added suggestively.

"On the other hand, the position is already taken," she said quickly.

"Laura, you cut me to the quick. Are you implying you don't like my singing?"

"No, no, not at all," she assured him, hiding a smile in the corners of her eyes. "But as an alarm clock, you'll have to keep your hands close to your face, and I don't think you could manage the task, being so close to my bed."

He pulled her to his chest, murmuring into her ear, "Why don't we give it a try?"

Though disappointed, he wasn't surprised when she pulled away, saying, "Let's just finish cleaning up first."

"Of course," he said, feeling as though all his attempts to break down the walls she had built between them were forever doomed. He hesitated for a moment, and then asked a question that had been on the tip of his tongue for a while. "Laura, may I ask you something? In those early days, did you find me annoying?"

Laura, who had already resumed cleaning up, looked at him in a surprise.

"After all," he clarified, "I elbowed my way into your life, unnecessarily complicated it, hogged the spotlight, nearly scared some clients away..."

"Annoying, arrogant, egocentric - nothing like the Remington Steele I envisioned," she recited, almost dreamily.

In spite of the words, her tone and something in her eyes told Remington she meant it to be a compliment. "Oh," he said, for the lack of more appropriate response.

Laura made a step toward him and added, "You've come a long way since then."

After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Have I come far enough?"

Laura looked down and said quietly, "You tell me." Then giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, she returned to the task at hand.

"Laura, where are you going?" Remington asked, blocking her way.

"I have a few errands to run," she explained.

"I thought we could have dinner together."

"It's late already," she pointed out.

He saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes and put his arms around her, whispering, "T'as de beaux yeux tu sais."

Blushing, she pulled away and cast a quick look to where the feline sticker had been. "I had no idea you knew French," she said awkwardly.

"Your eyes are beautiful, you know," he repeated in English. "Quai des Brumes, Jean Gabin, Michel Simon, Michèle Morgan, Ciné-Alliance, 1938. The distinctive blend of words and images best known as poetic realism, a tragic story of doomed love, thwarted passion, and entangled lives." Caught in his own memories, he was becoming more and more distant as he went on, oblivious to Laura's intent stare. "A story of a man trapped in a world where everyone is morally corrupt and his only friend is a dog."

"Did the dog have the beautiful eyes?" she whispered, almost hypnotized, wondering if he was talking about the movie or his own life.

Remington came out of his reverie and said softly, "Gabin's character said it to the only girl he cared for, just before kissing her."

As he tried to pull Laura closer again, she asked, "Does this movie have a happy ending?"

The look in his eyes told her she shouldn't have asked.

"He was killed trying to escape, and the ship he wanted to escape on left without him," he informed her evenly... maybe a bit too evenly.

"Poetic justice," she said, her voice sad and distant.

Feeling her freeze in his arms, Remington lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes, saying softly, "Miss Holt, how about accompanying me on an errand tonight?"

"What would that be?"

"I want to have my name engraved on this bracelet."

"And what name would that be?"

"What do you think?" he asked, his lips just inches from her face.

When he kissed her this time, she didn't resist.

The End

Story Elements:

1. Swimming pool
2. The French film "Quai des Brumes," 1938; use the famous line "T'as de beaux yeux tu sais"
3. Alarm clock
4. Post card
5. Steele's chain bracelet
6. Suite 1157 Halloween party