Work Text:
Laura's only acknowledgement of the day fading into night was to turn on the lamp at her desk as she poured over the paperwork from their latest case. Paperwork that she wanted to say had doubled since Murphy had left. Wanted to, she thought, her hand tightening on her pen, but couldn't, because the agency had continued to work like a well-oiled machine, despite being down an investigator. The only one who seemed to have noticed his absence was her. She pushed that thought away, just like she had every time her mind had wandered to her former partner. Murphy, the man who had stood by her side since Havenhurst, had simply walked in one Monday morning and told her he was leaving- not only the agency, but her life as well.
She had wanted to argue with him, to protest that the agency needed him, that she did, too, but he had been so excited, telling her his plans of how he wanted to open his own agency in Denver and how he couldn't wait to surprise Sherry as soon as he got there. And in the end, she hadn't been able to do anything except wish him luck. She shook her head, willing herself not to dwell on it. Her fingers rose to her brow, trying to rub away the headache that was beginning to build.
Then she heard the low wail of a saxophone coming from Mr. Steele's office. Irritated with herself, and not particularly happy with the interruption, she barged through the connecting door, ready to let him have it. "Mr. Steele, if you must listen to that, can you at least-"
She stopped at the sight of Bernice, not the lanky Irishman, sitting on the edge of the desk, eyebrows raised, that playful smile on her face.
"Bernice. I'm sorry, I thought you were-"
"Skeezix?" She nodded to the turntable on the cabinet. "I was just listening to this record."
Laura came and sat down beside Bernice in the darkened office, letting the sound of the saxophone roll over her. She closed her eyes and listened. The music was slow and sad, as though asking for the return of something that was lost. For an unguarded moment, she wished Mr. Steele was there with her, so she could wrap her arms around him. That thought had her opening her eyes and straightening her spine. "It's beautiful."
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" She gave a soft sigh that Laura rarely heard from their unshakeable receptionist.
"What's wrong?"
Bernice gave her a sad, acknowledging smile. "This song? It was composed for me."
Laura's eyes widened. "By who?"
"His name's Sam, Sam Jackson. He's a saxophone player from New York who's been out here for the last month recording an album. This is the demo for it."
"That's great, Bernice." When she turned her head away, Laura's brow furrowed. "Isn't that great?"
"He's definitely not what I was expecting, that's for sure."
"What were you expecting?"
"Slightly dull, filthy rich, remember?"
Laura laughed, recalling their conversation when they man they knew as Remington Steele had entered their lives all those months ago. "And what is Sam?"
"Not dull. Not rich, either."
"Well, not getting what we think we want isn't always so bad. Sometimes it allows us to find something better."
Bernice looked at her employer, her friend, and told her the truth, "He wants me to go with him, Laura."
Laura got very still. "Go where?"
"Back to New York." She made herself laugh, playing the part of the sparkling party girl for a moment longer to give Laura time to process. "It isn't even a marriage proposal. It's just one of those, 'I can't live without you, come away with me,' ones that I've heard a thousand times from a thousand guys just looking for a night together."
"What makes you think this time is different?" The words were probably more broken than she thought Laura realized.
"Because we've had a night together. In fact, we've had nearly every night together for the last month. Because I've turned him down every time he's asked. And because he's leaving in two days, so he sent this over tonight, saying this last time," Bernice pressed her lips together as she listened to the plaintive wail of the saxophone, "he was going to let the music ask for him."
It wasn't hard to guess the truth. "And you've wanted to say yes every time, haven't you?"
That was one thing she had always loved about Laura, right from the beginning. She didn't play the games that most women did with each other, especially in the circles that Bernice was used to traveling in. There was no cattiness, no subterfuge, no lies. Laura had always been completely honest with her, and in turn, she had found herself doing the same. Just like now. "Yeah, I have."
"Why didn't you say anything, Bernice?" Laura had always prided herself on being a good detective who was aware of her surroundings and observant of the people in them. But it seemed she had been completely oblivious when it came to Murphy, and now, Bernice. Was there anything she was seeing clearly anymore?
"Because between what you've been through with Murphy leaving, not to mention Skeezix-"
"I can handle Mr. Steele just fine," she said, her spine straightening. "And I'm happy for Murphy."
"Being happy for Murphy doesn't mean you can't miss him, you know." She tilted her head, lips pressed to the side as she pointed out what Laura hadn't considered yet, "And if I leave, it will just be the two of you."
"So?" Laura dismissed, with a wave of her hand.
"So, with both of us gone, there won't be anywhere left to hide."
Laura's wide eyes jerked to hers.
"That's what I thought. You know, at first, I thought you might just be leading him on a merry chase, but this is more, isn't it? This isn't just about keeping him on a leash at the office or being the only girl to turn him down anymore, is it?"
"He scares me, Bernice," Laura admitted, running a hand through her hair as she looked away. "He's constantly coming up with some scheme, he doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'commitment,' he won't even tell me his blasted name! How could I-"
"Fall in love with a man like that?" Bernice asked softly. Laura's terrified gaze met hers. "Look, I've never pretended to have all the answers, but I do know this- I never expected him to hang around. But you were always hoping he would, from the very start, remember?"
Laura looked down, her hands gripping the edge of the desk until her knuckles were white. "What if me holding out is the only reason he's been holding on? If I give in, then what?"
"From my experience? I would say that it was over. The chase was done and so was he." Bernice watched her shoulders curling in and smiled. It was still hard to imagine, even after all these months, that the only guy who had been able to get to straitlaced Laura Holt was the biggest conman she had ever seen. What was even more remarkable, was that same conman had been slowly changing for her, even if she didn't realize it yet. "But, somehow, after watching the two of you all this time, I don't think that's the case."
Laura glanced up, fear and hope doing what they'd been doing to her since she'd met the man who'd become Remington Steele- tugging her heart in two different directions.
"The man is still a wild card, don't get me wrong." She laughed now, glad when Laura did the same. "But, no matter what happens, no matter what crazy thing he does or what con he tries to pull, at the end of the day, he's always right back here with you. I don't think he's going anywhere, Laura."
"Sometimes, I think that scares me more," she admitted softly.
Bernice listened to the question the saxophone was asking. "I know what you mean."
Reminded of what had started this conversation, Laura turned to her friend. "What are you going to do?"
Bernice hopped off the desk and twirled around, feeling once more like the girl at the glittering parties. "I think I'm going to chase a man I've only known a month across the country."
Laura chuckled, and they both pretended not to notice how watery it was. "He's not filthy rich."
"No." Bernice played along, willing to give her this.
"And he's not slightly dull."
"Not even a little."
"Does he make you happy?" In the end, that was the only thing Laura really needed to know.
"Yeah, he does. Happier than I've ever been, Laura. Happier than I thought a shallow party girl knew how to be."
And before her eyes, she watched Laura Holt do what she had always done, pick up the pieces of what was broken around her and pull them inside to make herself stronger. Laura got off the desk, reaching for her hands with a smile that was more genuine than Bernice had a right to ask for. "Then what are you still doing here? You've got a lot of packing to do if you're going to be moving to New York."
Bernice wrapped her arms around her friend, always surprised by her small frame as much as she was by her fierceness as she hugged her back.
"I'll come by tomorrow, if you want, and help you pack."
Because Laura Holt didn't know how to do anything else but help.
She made herself smile. "That sounds great." She went to the lobby, picking up her coat and purse, the rest of the familiar routine of shutting down for the day already done, and knew a moment's pain that she would never do it again. She half-expected Laura to follow her, but instead, her boss was still leaning against the desk, arms crossed to protect herself from a hurt she would never admit to. Bernice regretted that, too. She wished she had the words to make this easier, but she had never been good at goodbyes, so instead, she gave her the only thing she could.
"You know," Laura glanced up when she began to speak, "the way Sam looks at me, I've never had anyone look at me like that before. It's more than just wanting my face or my body, it's like he can see past that to the person I am inside, and somehow, he wants that, too. I've never seen any man look at a woman like that- any man but him," she nodded to the wall of black and white photos, "when he's looking at you."
With that, she slung her coat over her shoulder, making her exit like she'd always known how to. She didn't falter, didn't let her smile fade, not until she got into the elevator alone. There, where no one else could see her, the former bell of the ball raised a trembling hand to wipe away the one tear that fell, laughing to herself.
As the elevator doors slid open to the lobby, she heard a familiar voice, "Ah, Ms. Wolfe, is Laura still upstairs?"
Like I said, end of the day and he's right back where Laura is, Bernice thought with a smirk. "She's waiting for you."
He stilled at this, quickly hiding the hopeful look on his face behind a mask that, while different from Laura's, was just as strong. "Is she now?"
"Yeah, she is." She always had been, whether she knew it or not.
They changed places, one staying, one leaving, and that thought was almost enough to make her tear up again. "Look after her, Mr. Steele."
He raised his eyebrows, considering her. "Always, Ms. Wolfe."
Bernice smiled and shook her head, knowing she might even miss him and that ridiculous nickname when she got to New York. Not right away, but someday maybe. She went out into the L.A. night and took a deep breath. It was too bad she wasn't going to be around to watch those two become what they could be, but she had something of her own to be as well. She walked away, humming a tune played by a saxophone.
*
"You know, Laura, I'm quite used to you staying all hours of the night to slave away over that atrocious amount of paperwork you insist on attending to, but I must say, this is the first time I've seen you here this late simply listening to music." Steele watched her, leaned back against his desk, arms crossed tightly across her chest as though to ward off a blow. Part of him wanted to go to her, pull her into his embrace and let her lean on him instead. Not only did that notion terrify the hell out of him, but she wouldn't have allowed it, anyway. So, instead, he opted for the careless charm that often annoyed but was accepted all the same. "It's almost enough to make a man jealous of whatever it is that's captured your attention so thoroughly."
Solemn brown eyes met his before she looked away and he knew then something had happened. He briefly wondered if it had anything to do with the enigmatic exit of Ms. Wolfe. But, like all things with Laura Holt, it would take time to draw it out. He leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, his tie loosened, his collar pin hanging to one side. "Lovely music. I didn't know you were interested in jazz."
The saxophone rang out a long, lonely note and Laura flinched. Murphy, gone. Bernice, leaving. And Mr. Steele-
A hand appeared in her line of sight. "May I have this dance?"
She thought of the first time they had danced together when she had discovered he was masquerading as Remington Steele. Everything had seemed so certain then. Now it was like the whole world was shifting under her feet, and she wasn't sure where solid ground was anymore. She looked up into his blue eyes. She'd be a fool to believe it could be him, right?
But she still put her hand in his.
He pulled her to him, holding her the way he always had, never too far away that she felt disconnected from him, but never so close that she felt trapped. They began to move in slow circles, Laura closing her eyes as the music continued its melancholy tune.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asked softly.
She shook her head, moving closer. "Not tonight."
"Well, I'll still be here tomorrow."
She closed her eyes tight. Of all the people she had thought would be left standing by her side, she didn't know if she would have, or could even now, dare to believe it could be him. "I was hoping you would be."
He echoed his promise to Bernice. "Always, Miss Holt."
She leaned back, searching his eyes. The way he was looking at her, it was like no one had ever looked at her before. "I just might hold you to that, Mr. Steele."
THE END