BY: Phaedra Phelan


SUMMARY: What may have happened in Laura's hotel room in "Steele Searching" after the case was solved and Remington realized that he was not the son of an earl.

DISCLAIMER: This "Remington Steele" story is not-for-profit and is purely for entertainment purposes. The author and this site do not own the characters and are in no way affiliated with "Remington Steele," the actors, their agents, the producers, MTM Productions, the NBC Television Network or any station or network carrying the show in syndication, or anyone in the industry.


It was mid-afternoon when Laura and Remington found themselves back at her hotel after their last visit with the Earl of Claridge. Remington had been silent from the time they left the earl's estate. The whole scenario with the Earl of Claridge ending up as it did had left him in a state of profound melancholy. As they went into the hotel together, Laura reached out, caught his hand and squeezed it tightly. Remington just nodded and held onto her hand. When they got to her room, Remington took her key, opened the door, handed it back to her, and stood awkwardly for a moment.

"May I come in, Laura?"

"Of course."

Remington went into the room and sat down on the bed, head bowed, shoulders slumped. When he looked up at Laura, his clear blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears and Laura simply sat down with him and held both his hands with hers.

"You must know that there is no one that I would rather have had with me when I received that news today than you, Laura. Only you can fully understand my need to know my identity . . . my heritage. And it wasn't about being of the peerage. No one hates that pretentious caste system more than I. I had no illusion that I would find out that I was some Little Lord Fauntleroy, switched at birth or something. Hell, I wouldn't care if I came from the poorest stock in Brixton. I just need to know who the deuce I am." Remington's voice cracked and Laura took him into her arms.

"None of that matters to me. Don't you know that? Look at me." Laura lifted his dark head up and gazed into his eyes. "I don't care what your name is. I came six thousand miles to find you because . . . because you're you. And . . . and I don't want to be without you."

Remington's expression reflected his awareness of just how profound Laura's declaration was and his lips pursed and very gently, almost reverently met Laura's and caressed them at length. Finally Laura simply threw her arms around him and kissed him back with abandon till he caught her arms from around him and dropped his head in frustration.

"I'm sorry. I just knew I had found myself, Laura. I wanted to offer myself to you as the man that I really am. Laura, this matter of my lack of real identity has become such a block between us. I thought . . ." His voice trailed off. "I may never know the truth. All I know is that I was some bastard that nobody wanted. But I wanted to know whose bastard I was. Does that seem to be asking too much?"

Laura brushed his finely sculptured lips with her fingers and Remington caught her hand in his and held it close, kissing the insides of her fingers and then her hand. They both trembled slightly as the full realization of the depth of all their unspoken feelings swept over them.

"It doesn't matter to me any more. At first it was my own curiosity. I thought that you really knew and just didn't want to share that part of your past with me. Then when I realized that you . . . you did not know your parentage, I wanted the mystery solved. But that's changed now. I only wanted to know because it was so important to you. I don't care what your name is. I came six thousand miles after you-the man-not a name. I'm Laura, remember? I'm the woman who swore that she would never run after any man. But I'm here. I came because I . . . I want you." She smoothed his dark hair with her hand.

"Laura . . . Laura," Remington whispered as he gathered her into his arms and began to kiss her over and over on her face. When his lips found hers this time, they were done for. "Oh, God, Laura, whoever I am, I want you. I care so for you."

"Mr. Steele, I . . .I know. And I care for you." Laura caressed his face with her hands and her hands slipped inside his jacket around his torso and she hugged him tightly.

Remington winced in pain. The wounds he had sustained when he impaled himself on that iron fence near Felicia's place were still not healed.

"Darling, forgive my recoiling in your embrace, but I'm still quite sore," Remington said as he repositioned her arms around him.

"Um, let's see. I should check your wound. I don't want you to get an infection. It's good you had that tetanus shot last year or you would have lockjaw by now from that."

Laura started to pull his shirt up out of his trousers so that she could unbutton it and examine the wound in his abdomen.

"Darling, I really didn't want to stop what we were doing," Remington murmured. "I hope that you're not just undressing me to check my wounds."

Laura flushed and dropped her head, but Remington tilted her head back up so that he could look into her eyes.

"Felicia asked me to . . . take up with her where we left off before I came to America."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that I was 'previously committed.' I've committed to you, Laura. For three years I've wanted only you. Every night I lie awake aching for you."

"Mr. Steele, I . . . I want you too. I know we need time to . . . to get where we want to be, but I do know what I want . . . I do want to be with you."

"Laura, Laura," Remington sighed and kissed her again.

He tried to kiss her tenderly, gently upon her mouth but, when he felt her yield to him, his kiss became so passionate, so hungry for her that they both reeled with desire for one another. Remington's hands were searching, caressing her. The soft knit of her sweater slipped upward under his hand and he found the softness of Laura's breasts and released them from the confines of her bra so that he could touch them with the tips of his fingers. His hands were shaking, his features flushed.

"Laura, I'm in such pathetic shape here." He kissed her breasts over and over as Laura held his head to her bosom. ". . . stranded in London . . . don't know who I am . . . needing you. That's all I know."

"Mr. Steele, Mr. Steele . . ." A soft moan escaped Laura's lips as she responded to his caresses. She could not stop him. She did not want to stop him. She had come six thousand miles to feel his arms around her like this.

"Laura . . . Laura, we need each other."

"I . . . think I'd better . . . check your . . . injury." Laura pleaded with him and he desisted.

Remington lay back and Laura pulled up his shirt to inspect his belly. When she lifted her eyes to meet Remington's, she saw the heat in his cobalt blue eyes. Face flushed darkly, nostrils flaring wide open, hands trembling, he struggled to remain a gentleman in the situation.

Remington took her hand from his wounded stomach and gently placed it upon the rigid fullness straining against the worsted wool of his slacks. As their lips met again and again, Laura swooned helplessly onto him.

"Laura . . . babe . . ." he groaned.

They were rapidly passing the point of no return when the phone on the night table beside the bed rang.

"No, no, not the phone!" Remington murmured, his speech slurred in his passion.

"It's . . . it's probably Mildred. She . . . she said that she would call before she came up. Oh, my goodness . . ."

Laura drew away from Remington and tried to pull herself together as she reached for the phone.

"Yes, Mildred. Ten minutes? Sure."

Laura's eyes were huge as she spoke to Mildred and Remington threw up his hands and retreated into the bathroom. Laura hastily rearranged her clothes and then smoothed the bed back into some sort of order. She was so warm that she could hardly think.

Laura followed Remington into the bathroom where he stood gripping the edge of the sink with both hands.

"Excuse me. I . . . I have to c-cool myself down here," Laura said.

"It's all right, darling. I am really trying to do the same thing, but I can't seem to do it if I am looking at you."

Laura splashed cold water upon her face and their eyes met in the mirror over the sink.

"I have been distracted by those reindeer across your lovely bosom all day, darling. You must forgive me for . . . for"

"Mr. Steele, you have me so . . . so discombobulated . . ." Laura fanned her face with both hands. "Can you give me a private minute here, please."

When Laura came out of the bathroom, she found Remington sitting on the bed against her pillows looking extremely mischievous, legs crossed, hands behind his head. She smiled shyly as they tried to act somewhat normal after their passionate encounter.

"Ironic, isn't it? I come here to find out my real name, offer it to you as proof of my commitment, and now, not only are we still in the dark as to who I am, but I no longer know who I was."

Laura sat at the foot of the bed, trying to finish collecting herself.

"I tried, but Inspector Lombard won't give back your passports," she said somewhat obliquely.

"Do you like London, Laura?"

"I haven't exactly hit the usual tourist attractions," Laura said dryly.

"Well, it seems to me, if our relationship is to continue, it will have to be here," Remington said as he made himself at home on the pillows of her bed.

Laura smiled, remembering the moments before when they were so passionately engaged, and their eyes met, just as Mildred knocked on the door.

Mildred came into the room carrying a package, obviously surprised to see Remington ensconced on Laura's bed and looked from one to the other, assessing the situation.

"Miss Holt . . Boss . . ." She paused, trying to give Remington Steele a stern look.

Remington looked adorably guilty. "It seems you haven't forgiven me my deception yet."

"To tell you the truth, I don't know how I feel. I guess it's gonna take some time to . . . straighten all this out. Anyway, here you go." She handed Remington a gift-wrapped box.

"What is this?"

"It's sort of a consolation present from us for not ending up the son of an Earl," Laura said.

"Just what I need to get over my trauma. Another shirt," he said as he opened the box.

There was no shirt.

"Or a handkerchief," he said, removing the tissue paper. "Socks, maybe?" he said, but found none.

Then he saw the passport in the bottom of the box.

"I guess you earned it," Mildred said as Remington picked it up and opened an American passport in the name Remington Steele.

"Many happy returns, Mr. Steele," Laura said.

"Girls, I'm touched. Thank you." Remington gave both of them a hug as they watched him open the passport again and examine it in more detail. "How did you do this?"

"It seems that someone higher than Inspector Lombard wanted to smooth things out for you. Lombard would not give details. He simply presented it to me with the comment that matters had been handled. Suffice it to say you are at the very least really Remington Steele now," Laura said.

"I guess that I am, aren't I?"

Laura nodded, catching her lip in her teeth as Remington reached for her hand.

"Now it looks like you kids were settling in for something here . . ."

Remington and Laura flushed and smiled at each other and just looked guilty.

"Well, anyway, you're just going to have to put it on hold. I have reservations in first class for you on this evening's flight back to Los Angeles. I was able to get a seat in coach on the same flight. Given your recent immigration problems, I figured that you would like to get back stateside as soon as possible. Your flight leaves in four hours."

"That just leaves us time to pack and get to Heathrow," Laura said.

"Thank you, Mildred. I think that I would like to go . . . home." Remington only had eyes for Laura as he smiled and savored the word.

"I'm going to my room and pack." Mildred said amused to see them so involved with one another.

"Meet us in the lobby here in an hour and a half," Remington said. "I'll go to my hotel, pick up my bags, and meet you back here."

Mildred left the room and Remington and Laura stood facing one another.

"I guess this is what they would call the first day of the rest of our lives, Laura."

"That's what they say. And so I guess you're my fella, um."

"I believe that's what you Americans call it. I'm it, Laura . . . boyfriend, lover hopefully."

"You called me 'babe' today. Once before . . . when you thought I had been shot to death, you called me that. I was so touched."

"I've never used that term of endearment with any other woman, Laura. When I think 'babe,' it is you and only you. You are the very essence of everything female, everything sensual, fertile and soft and full and very, very wise. Your lips, your breasts, the fascinating ebb and flow of the cycles of your body, . . . everything that is so different from me and yet so desirable to me as a man. That sensation comes right from the pit of my belly and wraps itself around my heart and . . . and I can't think about anyone else but you . . . babe."

Remington drew her into his arms and when Laura felt the length of his body against hers, she melted and suddenly they were kissing frantically, passionately, unable to get enough of each other.

"Dear Lord, we . . . need . . . to be . . . together . . ."

"Yes . . . yes, but there's no time . . . no time. We have to catch . . . a plane."

They hugged each other exchanging kisses, first Remington kissing Laura and then Laura kissing him till they were both breathless and had to draw apart for a moment. Remington's blue eyes turned pensive as he stood back from her and held both her hands in his and kissed them.

"You will have to set the bounds, darling. I don't want to do anything that you don't want me to do. But I'm somewhat helpless here. You do these rather amazing things to me. I consider myself a man of vast . . . experience, Laura, and I've known you and wanted you for more than three years, but you must know that today I am like an adolescent boy feeling the heat of manly passions for the first time."

"Why don't you go and pack for the trip home," Laura said softly.

"Yes, I . . . I'd better go, Laura."

Remington kissed her one more time. They tried to release each other, but the moment they separated, their passions got the best of them and they turned to each other again, Remington catching her up into his arms kissing her over and over as Laura clung to him, her arms entwined around his neck.

"Lord, babe!" Remington exclaimed. "I can't let you go."

"We're pitiful, aren't we. I just want to keep kissing you. It's like . . ."

"Like Bette Davis and Paul Henreid as Charlotte Vale and Jerry Durrance in "Now, Voyager," Warner Brothers, 1942. They couldn't bear to part either."

"You . . . you just go and get your things and I will meet you . . . in a little while," Laura said, holding her hands away from him, fighting to keep herself from touching Remington again. "And I am taking you home." She opened the door for him to leave.

"Yes, ma'am," Remington said, his eyes twinkling, and looking for all the world, like the cat that ate the canary as he bent to steal yet another kiss as he stood in the open door before parting from her.