Bonds, Lame Bonds(Part 1/6)
Date: Wednesday, June 21, 2000
SJ <hantaks@mtco.com>

AN ALTERNATE ENDING TO BONDS OF STEELE

(I watched Bonds while researching for another story, when the thought struck me that Laura wouldn't fight him over the keys. I thought that she would more likely throw the keys back at him and say "go to hell". The last thing she would do is agree to marry him. This story goes in that direction, more or less. I'm not sure when the ep first aired but I'm guessing it was end of May and I'm using that time frame for the purposes of this story.)


"Just stop this car and let me out," she demanded.

"Sorry, I'm on a rather tight schedule. The best I can do is slow down."

She reached over and pulled the keys from the ignition.

"Laura, come on!" he scolded.

When the call rolled to a slow stop, she stormed out. He followed suit dashing out the driver's side after her, "Laura, Laura wait please, Laura wait. You don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. If I'm not married to an American citizen by six o'clock this evening, I going to be thrown out of the country."

"So you're going to waltz down the aisle with the happy hooker."

"Laura, please this is no time to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm ANGRY, can't you tell the difference?"

"Why are you angry? I'm the one who's being deported."

"For some cockeyed reason, I expected less of you."

"Less? Less what?"

"Less trickery, less deceit, less of everything that makes me doubt your feelings for me."

"Would you have married me?"

"Of course not!"

"And I wouldn't have asked."

"I knew if we worked at it hard enough we'd find something to agree on."

"Laura, Laura, Laura, look. How could I ask you to be part of a ploy, a scam, an arrangement?"

"So you shopped around, found the best deal in town and bought Clarissa."

"I rented actually. In fact, I'm paying by the hour. So I really do need these keys right now.

He grabbed her hands to pry the keys from her grasp. Just then the car phone began to ring. He looked at her, then the car and started racing back to answer it

"Steele here...Clarissa? Don't be...I'm on my way."

Laura stood there. Suddenly she felt nothing but contempt and wearily threw the keys in his direction. "Do whatever you want, I guess it's none of my business,"

She turned and stormed off in the opposite direction. He shouted to her, "Laura wait!" Steele still had Clarissa on the phone. He was torn. Go after Laura? Go through with the original plan? He reasoned that he was doing all of this for her after all. He saw Laura scamper across the busy intersection and decided to square things with the INS, then he would have a lifetime to apologize to Laura.

When he got to the chapel, the only people there were Mildred and an older gentlemen.

"Mildred? where is everyone, Clarissa? the minister?"

"Mr. Steele I'd like you to meet James Moyer."

Remington extended his hand with some apprehension, "Mr. Moyer."

"Mr. Steele. Krebbie here tells me you're in some sort of trouble." He replied as he handed Remington his business card.

Mildred interjected, "Clarissa told me the whole story. James is a friend who I used to work with at the IRS. He might be able to help."

"Mildred I appreciate the gesture, but my problem is with the INS not the IRS."

"James is now a lawyer specializing in governmental litigation. Working on the other side of the fence for so many years has given him valuable experience dealing with the bureaucracy."

"Can you really help my situation, Mr. Moyer?"

"I believe I can," the grey-haired gentleman assured him.

"I only have until six o'clock this evening."

"Then it sounds like I need to hurry down there and file an extension on your behalf."

James stood and shook Remington's hand again, "I'll call you tomorrow." He kissed Mildred on the cheek and left.

Remington sank into a nearby pew.

"Boss?" she touched him on the shoulder, "This will all work out, you'll see"

"I only wish I could say the same about Laura."

"Where is Miss Holt?"

"I don't know. She ran off. I'm afraid I've really messed things up between us this time." He bowed his head in shame.

"Well don't just sit there, go find her!" Mildred pulled him up by his sleeve and pushed him in the direction of the door.

Remington drove back to the intersection where he last saw her and cruised up and down the adjoining streets. He then headed in the direction of her loft. As he started to climb the steps to the entrance, a young man from her building who was carrying a bicycle down the steps commented, "If you're looking for 3A, an ambulance took her away about ten minutes ago."

"An ambulance? What happened?"

"Don't know...but it looked pretty bad. She was unconscious. Her clothes and hair looked like she had been in an accident."

"Do you know where they took her?"

"Nah, but there's some cops up in her apartment, they might know."

Remington knocked on the open metal door and poked his head in, "Officers?"

Two uniform policemen were standing at the door with their thumbs hooked in their belts while a crime scene unit worked her apartment.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Remington Steele. Laura works with me. Can you tell me what happened?"

A plain clothes detective stepped forward. "Mr. Steele, let me I ask you a few questions first?"

"Is she okay? Where did the ambulance take her?"

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"About two hours ago. NOW where is she," he demanded exasperatedly.

"I think they took her to St. Joseph's."

Remington raced out the door and down the stairs before the police could question him any further. Naturally when the ambulance arrived and saw Laura's appearance, they assumed she met with foul play and they called the police. He stopped at the "information" desk and blurted out in haste, "Laura Holt. She was brought in by ambulance."

The woman behind the desk, tapped on the keyboard, "That's H...O...L.... T?"

"Yes."

"Sorry sir, she's not in the computer yet. If they brought her into emergency, she might not be admitted yet."

Before she could give him the speech on hospital procedures and policy, he was headed in the direction of the emergency wing. There he encountered another "information" desk lacking any useful information.

"Holt, Laura Holt. An ambulance brought her in."

"If she was brought in by ambulance and considered critical, she wouldn't be registered in until her chart was turned into me."

Remington glanced down the hall and spotted a couple of paramedics carrying an empty backboard and called to them, "Gentlemen! Did you happen to bring in a young woman, brunette, disheveled appearance."

"From 10th?"

"Yes," he sighed in relief that someone could help him find Laura. "Do you know how she is..........where she is?"

One of them pointed down the hall, "Trauma 2."

Remington hurried down the hall and watched intently. A half dozen hospital personnel obscured his view. Occasionally one would move aside and he'd catch a glimpse of her. But it wasn't the Laura he knew. It wasn't the same Laura who just hours earlier walked away from him upset. He recognized her discarded sneakers and clothing on the floor. Even though he didn't know what happened, he felt utterly helpless and profoundly guilty. Two orderlies pushed Laura on a gurney past him toward the elevators. She was pale. Tubes and electronic equipment made it appear as if she was in grave danger. He stopped the doctor as he came out of the room, "Doctor, can you tell me how she is? Where are they taking her?"

He ignored Remington's question as he finished dictating his instructions. He then turned his attention to Mr. Steele. "Are you her husband?"

"No I'm....." he stopped trying to think of a word to describe what he was. Boyfriend didn't seem to fit. Partner? Co-worker? that was too formal. He then just shook his head and admitted, "No, I'm not."

"I'm sorry. I can only discuss her condition with family members. Do you know who might be her next of kin?"

*Next of kin?* he thought to himself. *They only say that in the grimmest situations*. "She has a sister in Tarzana."

"Please call her. We'll need some patient history and consent."

"Where are they taking Laura?"

"Up to surgery and probably ICU after that. Third floor. I really must go now, sir. "

End Part 1
To Part 2

BACK