Date: Thursday, 05 February, 2004
From: "Lightfoot" <>

Well, apologies for taking two days, but a few IEPs
were due, and my kiddos come first :) Anyways,
because this chapter is so long, I decided to break it
down into two chapters...also, I took the advice of a
friend and have revamped a few things...<g> like I
said, I'm sorta rusty...I'm not too pleased with this
chapter though...but it did need to be broken up!

DISCLAIMER: RS is currently owned by Warner Brothers,
yadda yadda yadda...and they're PUTTING THEM ON DVD
SOON! (I know this has nothing to do with the
disclaimer, but I thought I'd mention it). Anyway,
not making a profit, so don't sue! Also, don't
plagiarize. It's not nice and God don't like ugly!


copyright 2004 by Conner MacBride


Kelly scribbled away at her notes, marking each of
the photos with a highlighter tab. /What to do? Where
to go?/ Jarvis had dissented and then had stopped his
investigation because he couldn't stop hitting dead
ends. Jarvis had said he didn't believe Laura had an
affair with Roselli. But Steele apparently did. /Or
does he?/ She remembered Jarvis's words. /I think he
finally believed the report because there was nothing
left to believe./ But believing because there was
nothing else was not the same as conviction of belief.
Kelly examined her pencil. Lately, writing utensils
had become food, considering how much she was chewing
on them.
Jarvis had said "investigate everything and everyone,
even Steele." Why not start with Remington Steele and
Laura themselves? Kelly decided to head off to the
courthouse in search of records.


Kelly rubbed her eyes in exhaustion, munching
absently on a bag of Doritos. Three hours of
searching for Remington Steele and so far she couldn't
find anything that wasn't connected to his
investigative service. /Lessee...what do I know?
Founded in 1980, became famous in 1982 in connection
with protecting Royal Lavulite, whatever that is.
She finally located some personal information on the
man himself. Her eyes scanned over the passport
records. Name: Remington Steele. Born September 25,
1952 in Ireland. United States citizen as of February
4, 1989. She scanned for family, education, job
records. Nothing. Nothing except what she knew.
Married to one Laura Elizabeth Holt in 1987. She kept
searching, but all she could find was a mention of
working for the CIA. /Great. Well, let's get started
on the woman who broke the great Remington Steele's
heart, according to the melodramatic words of the Los
Angeles Times./


Kelly once again found herself standing on the
outside of a door. Only this time she had a feeling
she may get the same welcome she got from Remington
Steele. /How did I end up here again?/ She looked at
the paper she had printed, ignoring the churning in
her stomach. She had hit a dead end looking for
information on Remington Steele. Everything she had
found had to do with Remington Steele Investigations.
And a whole lot of Laura Holt. It seemed as if
Remington Steele had always been invariably tied to
the petite brunette who had been labeled a scarlet
woman at the moment of her death.
And now, Kelly stood on the porch of a typical
suburban house in Tarzana hoping for the information
that would at least answer one question: Why the hell
was she wasting this much time on a dead woman?
Closing her eyes, she stabbed the doorbell. /Okay,
nobody's home!/ She turned to go.
"Excuse me? Can I help you?" /Crap!/ Kelly turned to
face an attractive middle-aged woman of about 40 or
so. "Uhhh...hi."
The woman merely lifted an eyebrow. "Are you the kid
who's been leaving messages for the past two days?"
"Uhhh..." /Great. She thinks I'm a nut./ "Yeah."
The woman brushed a stray lock back from her face.
"You said something about wanting to talk to me about
my aunt's murder."
Kelly shrugged, not quite sure how to approach the
woman in front of her. Remington Steele had been the
jilted lover. Jimmy Jarvis had been a nice old man
with a find memory of a friend. Laura Piper though.
She was a blood relative. What was her relationship
with Laura?
"Look, yeah. I do want to talk to you...umm. I'm
not doing this to pry, just trying to find out some
information for a school paper. And I tried to go to
Remington Steele, but he kinda-"
Kelly tilted her head and grimaced. "He kinda told me
to get lost."
A chuckle was the last thing she expected. Laura
Piper opened the door a bit wider. "Well, that's more
than he's said to anyone in ages, I'll wager. C'mon
in. Since you've been aggravating me so much, it's
probably important to you. Get in here. I can give
you an hour or two before I have to get back to work."


Remington Steele sat in his office, reading the
morning paper. More crimes, a vicious slaying on
Sunset, a rapist on the loose in Marin County. A part
of him, the part he had tried to forget long ago,
felt a twinge of conscience at ignoring those preyed
upon. Years ago, in another life, someone would have
been pushing him to care. She would have begged him
to get involved. /Damn it!/ More and more, he had been
thinking of Laura. Probably because of that idiotic
girl who had seen fit to show up at his door. Years
ago, he had learned to push her memory away, to treat
her as a dream, a broken illusion. Anger was an
easier emotion to manage than despair. And somehow,
she had left him with nothing but despair.
/Enough of this./ He got up, groaning as his old
bones creaked with the effort of exertion. He passed
the mirror in the hallway, catching a reflection he
didn't even recognize anymore. He remembered a
younger face, a dashing face with sparkling Irish blue
eyes, eyes like Royal Lavulite. Eyes which had sought
out and captured an American heart. His mind
unwillingly went back through the years, reliving the
moment his whole world had come crashing down on him.

/Mr. Steele? This is Officer Abbot. We need you to
come up to San Francisco to identify a body. We
believe it's your wife. We believe she was murdered./
Steele could still remember every nuance, every
detail of that horrific day. Laura's pale skin, the
gash and bruise on her forehead. Her tiny wrists with
the fingerprint bruises on them. The three bullets in
her back. Shot at point blank range. A little piece
of him had died at that moment. The rest of him had
died with the explanation. /We found her body
unclothed in the Martine House Hotel. Apparently she
was shot by the person in the room with her. A male.
His face has been blown away by his gun. His license
identified him as Anthony Roselli of San Francisco.
Do you know who this was Mr. Steele? Mr. Steele?/
He hadn't wanted to believe it. The facts were all
there. Irrefutable hard evidence. But as Laura had
once told him, even obvious evidence can be deceiving.
And he had tried. God knows he had tried to overturn
every stone, to unearth every clue, no matter how
insignificant. Anything to disprove to himself that
Laura had an affair with Antony. He tried. God, he
tried, even accepting Jimmy Jarvis's help to get into
police files. And in the end, he could find nothing.
Every I had been dotted and every T had been crossed.
After two years of searching, he finally had to accept
the fact that the woman who had come to mean more to
him that anyone else on earth had lied to him. She
had chosen Roselli over him. He had been a fool to
think Antony wouldn't push himself towards Laura. He
just thought (foolishly) that Laura would always
choose him.
Of course, he also thought Laura was incapable of
such a deceit. She had comforted him through Anna's
reappearance from the dead and Daniel's revelation.
She had lifted him up from the underworld with a tilt
of her head and a wry smile. He had seen in her
something which he desired within himself; a sureness
of purpose and a need to care. And with one act, she
had fallen from the sky to his feet.
Remington Steele stepped out into his garden,
ignoring the sounds of the outside world. For the
first time in his life, he finally understood what she
meant all those years ago. /I'm scared of losing
myself in you...there was no laughter, no joy, no
sadness, nor even anger./
She had been terrified of having nothing left if she
was ever abandoned by someone she worshiped. Now, for
a second, he finally understood. This was nothing.
And this was where hate came from. Hate was not the
absence of love. It was loving too much and wishing
to hard that things were not what they were. He
closed his eyes, pushing Laura back from his mind. /I
tried to believe dammit. I tried, but all I had was
what was in front of me./

TBC...A conversation between the youngest Piper and