The Luck O' the Skeeziks, Part 3 of 3
Date: Sunday, March 25, 2007
From: "Lori" <>

"It's a beautiful night," Laura said as they walked out of the restaurant.

"It is," Remington agreed. "Why don't we walk a while?" It was still
early enough for a stroll up Hollywood Boulevard, where the tourists
were making their way in and out of the shops and ogling the pink
stars that lined the sidewalk.

"Okay," Laura said, wrapping her arm around his.

They had enjoyed a quiet, romantic dinner. Laura was pleased that her
Mr. Steele seemed so much more himself than he had the past few days.
He was attentive, and her fears were waning, just a little. His
interest in her was obvious. Maybe he wasn't planning to leave, after
all. She knew something was going on, but she also knew that he was
working hard to calm her fears. She tried to push those fears out of
her mind as they enjoyed a leisurely stroll. She enjoyed being with
him, and she was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea that
he enjoyed being with her just as much.

The detective in her was still wondering about what had him so
preoccupied lately, but she tried not to think about it. Tonight was
about their relationship. The idea of actually calling it a
relationship, even in her own mind, was a little scary… but she was
getting used to it. And that was even scarier.

"What are you thinking about?" Remington asked quietly, as he pulled
her close.

"You," she answered honestly.

"Oh?" he asked.

"This is nice," she said.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "Laura, I'm sorry I've been so distant
lately. I've… I've just had a lot on my mind."

"You know you can talk to me," she offered.

"I know," he told her. Little did she know that's what the whole thing
was about. He did want to talk to her. He wanted to tell her what she
wanted to know, but the whole thing was beginning to worry him. He
didn't know how long the writer of the cryptic notes would string him
along. He didn't know if he really wanted to know the answers. The
notes hinted at a reality that was far from what he'd envisioned his
whole life. He wasn't sure he was ready to have his reality altered to
such a degree.

He stopped as they approached the front of Mann's Chinese Theatre. It
had been a long time since Laura had been there. The only time she
usually hit the tourist spots were when she had friends in from out of
town. She was amusing herself looking at the hand and footprints, and
the signatures in the concrete when Remington excused himself. She
looked up as he walked over to the box office. She couldn't tell, but
it looked as if the ticket seller had handed him something. He hadn't
mentioned wanting to see a movie.

Remington slipped the now familiar envelope into his breast pocket.
He'd read the note later, after he'd taken Laura home. He saw her look
up from the pavement where she'd been matching her own to the
handprints of Rosalind Russell. He smiled and walked over to her,
reaching out to take her hand in his.

"So," she said, "are we seeing the movie?"


"You just picked up something at the box office," she said, trying not
to sound judgmental.

"Oh, yes," he said. "That wasn't tickets for tonight. They're having a
gala next weekend," he said, looking past Laura to a banner
advertising the Film Preservation Society's upcoming fundraiser. "I
thought perhaps you might like to attend, with your newfound interest
in classic cinema, and all." Not for the first time, Remington was
glad he was fast on his feet. He didn't relish lying to Laura, and he
made a mental note to call the Preservation Society tomorrow to get
tickets for the gala.

"Sounds interesting, Mr. Steele," Laura told him, as they began
walking back down the block toward Musso & Frank where Fred would be
picking them up.


When they arrived at Laura's house, Remington leaned forward to speak
to Fred.

"I won't be a minute, Fred," he said, opening the door. He climbed out
and then reached for Laura's hand to help her out of the car.

"You don't want to stay?" Laura asked. "For a nightcap," she amended,
at his surprised expression.

"It's a work night, Miss Holt," he answered, bringing her hand to his
lips as they approached the front porch. "The boss is a real slave
driver," he said with a wink. "Mustn't stay out too late."

"We wouldn't want to disappoint the boss," she said with a rueful
smile, hoping she didn't sound too disappointed. She turned to unlock
the door and he stepped up behind her, placing his hand just above her

When she turned to look at him, he leaned in and placed his mouth on
hers for a long, gentle kiss. It was a kiss that promised more to
come, but that "more" wouldn't come tonight.

"Goodnight, Laura," he said, turning away from her and back toward the

"Goodnight, Mr. Steele," she said, opening the door to the house.
"Good night."


Remington sighed as he sat down on his sofa. He could tell that Laura
was disappointed when he left, and he was as well. He was thrilled
that Laura seemed ready to move things along with them, but he knew
there was too much between them at the moment. Being with Laura meant
a lot more than just being with Laura. He had to get to the bottom of
the mystery of his identity; he had to have something to offer her. In
such a short time, she'd given him so much. For the first time in his
life, he wanted this relationship to be one where he could give, and
not just take.

He reached into his pocket and took out the envelope. He took out the
leaf and laid it on the coffee table next to the other three. He could
see how they fit and he pushed them all together. They made an almost
perfect shamrock, leaving just a chip at the bottom that he assumed
was the space for a stem… and that meant there would be at least one
more note.

He unfolded the note as he pulled it out of the envelope.

*You weren't abandoned. The past doesn't matter. You know who you are.
You are Remington Steele.*

"You are Remington Steele," he read aloud. What was that supposed to
mean? He noticed the omission of the next meeting place. He was sure
there would be another note at some point, he assumed the porcelain
shamrock had some meaning… perhaps that one or both of his parents
were Irish. He knew that he'd spent his first years in Ireland. He
glued the pieces of porcelain together and left the shamrock sitting
on the coffee table. He took the note into his bedroom and put it in a
box with the others at the top of his closet.


It had been almost a week, and Remington had heard nothing more from
his mystery note writer. He'd taken Laura to the Film Preservation
Society Gala, and they'd had a lovely evening. They'd returned to his
apartment for a nightcap.

Laura sighed contentedly and sipped her champagne as she against
Remington's chest. They were sitting on the floor looking into the
fire. They'd had a lovely time at the gala, and she was thoroughly
enjoying being in his arms. She knew this was where she was meant to
be. It was in moments like this that she felt most secure in this
relationship. In her heart, everything would be all right. If she let
her head in, things weren't quite as clear. In the past week, he had
seemed less preoccupied and more the man she'd come to have feelings
for, but he was still the mysterious Remington Steele. The man with no
name. She had to remind herself about feeling too much, too soon.

Remington smiled as Laura leaned against him. It felt so right having
her in his arms. It had been almost a week since he'd heard from the
mystery note writer, and it had been even longer since Laura had asked
his name. He'd begun to put the mystery of his past out of his mind.

They were both startled from their reverie by the ringing of the
doorbell. Laura stood up to allow Remington to get up and answer the
door. She tried to watch what was happening, but Remington positioned
himself between her and the door. She heard him thanking someone, and
then the door closed as he turned around to walk toward the bedroom.

"I'll be right out, Laura," he told her before disappearing into the

He sat down on the bed and opened the envelope. As he suspected, it
contained the stem of the porcelain shamrock. He unfolded the note.

*Your mother would have been so proud of the man you've become. Enjoy
your life as Remington Steele.*

His mother. He'd never really thought much about his mother. He'd been
told that she died when he was born. He realized then that Remington
Steele was a man to be proud of… perhaps his mother would be proud of
him. He knew that he wanted to be someone that he himself could be
proud of… someone that Laura could be proud of.

He left the note on the nightstand and went back out to Laura.

"Everything all right?" she asked, as he came back out into the living
room. She could see a change in his demeanor. He seemed a little

"Fine," he said, nodding. He took her in his arms and held her close.
This was what life was all about. He held her tightly and felt himself
trembling as he realized he didn't want to let her go.

"Mr. Steele," Laura said quietly. "I can't breathe," she said with a

"I'm sorry," he laughed as he released her. Noticing that her glass
was empty, he excused himself to the kitchen.

"I have to powder my nose," she winked at him and went into the
bedroom as he went to the kitchen. As she turned to go into the
bathroom, she noticed the folded piece of paper on the nightstand. She
sat down on the bed and picked up the paper. She felt slightly guilty
as she opened it, but she did so anyway. She drew her hand to her
mouth as she read the words of the unsigned note. "Enjoy your life as
Remington Steele."

It reminded her at once that both, he wasn't Remington Steele and his
life as such could end at any time. Though, she was intrigued by the
mention of his mother. Mr. Steele never talked much about his
mysterious past, and he'd never mentioned any family. This was
something she'd like to pursue, but she knew that she had to wait for
him to come to her on his own. She folded the note and put it back in
its place. She walked back out to the living room, to find him
standing on the balcony overlooking the city.

"It's late," she said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. "I think
maybe I should be going."

He wanted her to stay, but he knew that he couldn't give her his full
attention. He walked her down to her car where they said goodnight. He
kissed her soundly before she got into her car and drove away.


Over the next several weeks, things seemed to get back to normal.
Laura was happy that her Mr. Steele seemed to be his old self again.
He was flirty and outrageous, and yet still exotic and mysterious.
Laura realized that there may be more to the mystery of his past than
met the eye, and she had made a conscious effort not to press him on it.

They had continued to see each other. Laura knew that she wanted
Remington more and more each day, but she also found herself hiding
back behind her old fears. Thinking about his past reminded her that
as much as she cared for him, she didn't know him. He was still the
man of mystery. He was a man who could leave at any moment, and once
again she found herself guarding her heart. She'd had too many men
walk out of her life, and she wasn't ready for it to happen again.

Remington accepted the fact that he had probably heard the last from
his mystery writer, and that he wasn't really any closer to knowing
who he really was. Laura hadn't been asking about his past as much as
she had in the past. Maybe she was beginning to accept him for who he
was now. He could only hope that was the case.

Remington knocked on the door to Laura's office. "It's after six,
Laura," he said, opening the door. "Murphy and Miss Foxe are long gone."

She smiled at his calling Bernice by the correct name. He never would
have done that if Bernice had been there.

"So it is, Mr. Steele, so it is," Laura replied, looking at her watch.
"What time is our reservation?"

"Nine," Remington answered.

"I suppose we should be going, then," she said.

He walked her down to the garage, and gave her a kiss before reminding
her that he'd pick her up at eight o'clock.


When he arrived back at the condo, Remington sensed something was
amiss. He opened the door and cautiously entered the apartment. He
sensed that someone had been there, but he didn't think they were
still about. It was then that he noticed the box on the coffee table.

He opened the black velvet box and pulled out a gold pocket watch. He
opened it and recognized the strains of "When Irish Eyes are Smiling."
He examined the watch more thoroughly and discovered an etching on the
back. It was a shamrock, an exact match to the porcelain one that lay
in his closet. Inside the watch, there was an inscription, "To SJ,
from KL." Inside the box, he found another note.

*Your father wanted you to have this.*

It was signed, "Patrick O'Rourke."

He had no idea who Patrick O'Rourke was, and at the moment he didn't
care who his father was, or that he may have wanted him to have this
watch. Right now, he was sure of only one thing… who he was now was
more important than who he may have been. He was Remington Steele.

He placed the watch back in the box and put the box with the other
notes in the top of his closet. His hand lingered on the box for just
a moment. He smiled, and Remington Steele went about getting ready for
his date with Laura.

The End

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