Laura still wasn't quite sure what happened. One minute she was bending down to pick up a book on The British Museum that she had noticed lying on Mr. Steele's coffee table, the next she was lying on the floor, muscle spasms leaving her unable to move without intense pain shooting through her back.
"Mr. Steele?" No answer. She called out a little louder, and heard the kitchen door open.
"Laura?"
"Down here." She looked up to find a pair of concerned blue eyes looking down at her.
"Laura, what are you doing down there?" He bent down to help her up.
"Ow! I think I'd better just stay here for a few minutes. I can barely move. Something happened to my back." She muttered under her breath, "Damn British Museum."
"What about the British Museum?" Steele was starting to worry more, now. Maybe she had hit her head on the floor. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to call a doctor?"
"Maybe a doctor wouldn't be such a bad idea. Here, try getting me up." She cried out in pain as he grabbed her hand and started to pull her up; he gently let her back down to the floor.
"I'll be right back. Don't go away!" he joked.
She overheard him talking on the phone; "Fred, I hate to bother you at this hour, but Miss Holt needs to get to the doctor. I don't know, something with her back. Thanks." She heard the phone hang up, and then he was back in her field of vision above.
"Fred's on his way. At this time of night the doctors will have gone home. We'll just have to take you to the emergency room." He bent down and carefully lifted her off the floor and onto the couch. "You're becoming exceedingly capable of finding interesting ways to avoid spending the night with me, Laura."
"Well, I didn't want you to think I was easy."
He laughed at the thought. "Not a chance, Laura, not a chance."
****
"I don't want to be admitted! Just give me some pain killers and I'll be fine, really!" Laura was getting aggravated now, after waiting two hours in the E.R. for a doctor to even take a look at her.
The blond haired doctor on call looked unconvinced. "You can barely walk, Miss Holt. I'd feel much better if you'd stay overnight, then we can get some x-rays and have the orthopedist take a look. I just want to make sure that nothing is seriously wrong with your back; I'm not a specialist."
"Look, I promise, I'll come back first thing in the morning. If you won't be able to get the orthopedist here until then, what difference will it make?" She put up the most convincing argument she could. It was one of her most practiced talents, talking her way in or out of things, and part of what made her such a good detective.
He was starting to cave in, she could see it. "Well . . . Only if you can give me assurances that you won't be staying alone, in case it gets worse. I'll prescribe some muscle relaxants, which should help ease the pain. First thing in the morning, back here for x-rays, no excuses."
"I promise. Besides, I certainly can't work like this."
"Should I go get your boyfriend to help you out to the car?"
"He's NOT my boyfriend, he's . . . Oh, never mind."
"Okay. Here's the prescription. You should be able to fill it at the pharmacy on James Street, even at this time of night. Try to get some rest."
A worried looking Steele came over as they came out of the examination room. "What's wrong? You aren't walking any better than you were when we came in."
"They don't know, and won't until the orthopedist checks me out, which will be tomorrow. I want to go home, and I promised them I'd come back in the morning. I'll be fine, don't worry."
The doctor said to Steele, "I told her that I don't want her staying by herself tonight; those pills can really knock you out. Will you make sure she listens?"
"No problem. Thank you doctor."
****
Steele tapped on the roof of the limo as Fred left. "Good man," he said to himself. He had come back to get them at the hospital even though it was well past his normal working hours. We should really think about giving him a raise.
He went back inside to check on Laura. She had taken two of the muscle relaxants as soon as they had picked up the prescription, and was starting to feel the effects. She sounded half asleep already.
"Go home Mr. Steele, I'll be fine."
"You know I can't do that, Laura. I promised Doctor Neal that I wouldn't leave you alone. I'll just sleep on the sofa. I don't mind."
"Mmm, okay . . . "
She was mumbling now, and seemed to be drifting off to sleep. Steele brushed the hair from her forehead, giving her a light kiss before sitting down in the chair next to the bed. He was tired and it was getting late, but he wanted to make sure she was all right before he went to sleep. I'll just sit here for a minute, then go sleep on the sofa.
****
Bernice Fox came in and headed straight for Laura's office, a magazine in her hand. She let out a sharp wolf whistle. "Laura, you're not going to believe this! Old Blue Eyes has been a naughty, naughty boy!"
Laura looked up from the file she was working on, a bizarre case involving a mime of all things. This was a first for the Remington Steele Agency, a murdered mime. Mr. Statto was found dead in his mistress' apartment, trauma by a blunt blow to the head according to the medical examiner.
His poor wife had been completely unaware of his extramarital activities, and had hired the agency to try and find out who killed her husband. She had been a complete wreck when she came in last week, and Murphy had been working hard all week tracking down Statto's movements in the weeks prior to his death, interviewing possible suspects, and searching for clues. All they had determined so far was that the murderer had bludgeoned his victim to death with part of a lava lamp - another first - and that he had bounced a rather large check the week before he died. The case just got stranger and stranger. As Mrs. Statto had sobbed, "Who would want to kill a mime?"
"What's he done now?"
"Take a look at this!" She put an issue of Playgirl magazine down on Laura's desk.
"Bernice, I can't believe you buy this stuff."
"Well, you know, they do some really classy interviews. Never mind that, just take a look at Page 52." She waited for her boss to stop chastising her.
Laura sighed, and flipped to the page Bernice pointed out. She gasped as a nearly naked picture of Mr. Steele, her Mr. Steele, stared back at her. "What the hell?!" He was wearing only a strategically placed tool belt, covering parts of himself that Laura had recently been fantasizing about. Her cheeks got hot at the thought, and she quickly got her mind out of the gutter and back to the present.
She sat for a moment, then started yelling. "I'm going to kill him! What the hell was he thinking? The press is going to have a field day with this!" She began flipping the next pages of the photo spread, and gasped as the tool belt disappeared on the following pages and she got a full view of what she had only imagined before.
Bernice came over to the other side of the desk. "I don't know what he was thinking, but I know what I'm thinking." She let out another whistle. "Whew, is it me or is getting hot in here?" She fanned herself with an envelope she had in her hand.
"Bernice, what are we going to do? Why would he pose for Playgirl?"
"To get chicks?"
"I'm serious. Where is he?" She angrily repeated, "I'm going to kill him!" She jumped up from her desk and grabbed the magazine on the way out.
"Where are you going?"
"To find our Mr. Steele."
Bernice yelled after her, "Don't hurt him too bad; wouldn't want to bruise that magnificent bod!" She went to open up the morning mail that had arrived, muttering to herself, "She'd better bring back my magazine!"
****
"Laura?" Steele shook her shoulder gently. "Laura?" He had fallen asleep sitting next to her bed, and had awakened when he heard her yelling, "I'm going to kill him!" What time was it, anyway? He tried shaking her again.
He ducked as a fist came flying at him. "Whoa!"
She seemed awake, but not quite aware of where she was yet, and
she kept yelling. "Are you crazy? Playgirl magazine? What
were you thinking?! What about the agency?"
"Laura, it's okay. What are you talking about?"
"Ow! What the?" She was stirring from slumber now, and the pain from her back was helping to clear her head. It must have been a dream. More like a nightmare.
She murmured, "What time is it? Why are you still here?"
"I fell asleep. Are you okay? It sounded like you were having a nightmare, something about killing someone."
"It was nothing. Go home, I'll be fine."
"We already had this discussion. I'm not going anywhere. Go back to sleep."
"Can you give me another one of those pills?"
"Sure, let me go get some water." He went out to the kitchen, but when he returned she was already nodding off and talking to herself again. "Nice tools, Mr. Steele."
What exactly was she dreaming about? At least she wasn't yelling this time. He was left wondering to himself, and this time went out into the living room to try and get a few hours sleep before dawn.
****
Laura woke up early, pain helping her stir. She felt groggy, like she hadn't slept well at all. All she could remember were bits and pieces of a really weird dream, something about a naked man and a mime.
She groaned as she tried to get out of bed. Steele heard her and came into the bedroom. "What are you doing? Get back in bed. Do you want to take some more of the muscle relaxants?"
"Yeah, I think so. They really knocked me for a loop last night, though. I had a really strange dream. I think you were there, along with a dead mime."
"Dreaming of me, eh Laura? I trust I had nothing to do with the dead mime. Don't you know, a mime is a terrible thing to waste?"
She groaned at the bad pun. "Just go get me two pills and a glass of water, okay? I was hoping I'd be feeling better this morning, but I think I'm going to have to go back for those x-rays."
"At your service, Laura. I'll be right back."
"Mr. Steele?"
He popped his head back around the corner. "Thanks for keeping me company last night, I appreciate it."
"Not a problem, Laura. Let's just get you better now, okay?" He kissed her softly on the lips, then went to get her medication.
She smiled as she watched him leave, more bits and pieces of her dream coming back to her. Imagination would have to do for the moment. She wondered how much longer she could keep up her resolve, as he came back with the medication.
The End
My assigned elements were: The British Museum; a lava lamp; a tool belt; a bounced check; a Playgirl magazine; a mime artist named Statto.