Authour note: *** indicates flash back***
Warning: defintley some violence in this chapter be warned.
Disclaimer: blah..blah..blah
A/N2: I just want to take the time to say thank you to all those leaving feedback. It means alot to me, and it defintley shapes the way the story is written.
Enjoy!!
LexCorp Penthouse
“Mr. Luthour I have extraordinary news” Nigel swept into his superiors office giddy as a school boy. Well as giddy as he could be while remaining taciturn. “We were able to locate Felix Burmeister, and his accomplice.”
With a wave of his hand, Nigel motioned for two armed men to enter the room. Between them a bloodied, semi-conscious Felix Burmeiseter was dragged into the room. His face resembled the dark patches plastered on a Dalmatians back. A second envoy, lead by Mrs. Cox, entered in a flurry of excited curses, the man being escorted into Lex’s office fired off a stream of Italian profanity obscene enough to make Vito Corleone blush. Alonzo Cretini, Metropolis’s most feared organized crime boss was being dragged kicking and screaming into the penthouse suite.
“Bastardo! Get your filthy hands off of me. I’ll make you regret this you no neck baboons!” The guards ignored his protestations. When they were in front of Luthour’s desk they dumped him like old laundry on the rug.
“We found him and Burmeister out at Hobbes bay. They were doing a little deep sea fishing” smirking, Nigel motioned to Mrs. Cox. With a sashay of her ample hips she handed Lex a stainless Steel briefcase.
“What’s this?” Lex said suspiciously, his words slurring around his second cigar of the evening.
“This is exactly what we’ve been looking for Mr. Luthour, and we didn’t even need that idiot from Los Angeles to find it.” Nigel puffed out his chest in pride. He’d known from the beginning that hiring Steele had been pointless, but Luthour had insisted and Jason had been oddly reticent about the whole thing. As a matter of fact Jason had made himself rather scarce these last few days, as if he had an agenda all his own. No matter, Mr. Luthour had what he wanted and Nigel had once more avoided the firing squad.
“You can leave now gentlemen, Mr. Luthour has no further need of your services.” The guards nodded their ascent to Mrs. Cox not wanting to find out the fate of their captives.
“Mr. Burmeister and Mr. Cretini are on the payroll of the Hammer of Thor. They’ve been working against you this whole time. That charade at the Black and White ball was to assure your ignorance of their mutual deceit.”
“Mr. Luthour, please I swear to you on my mother’s grave, I would never—I mean who would be stupid enough to betray you?”
“An excellent question Alonzo” Lex said, snubbing his cigar out. He moved so quickly Cretini didn’t even have time to blink, a single gun shot rang out followed closely by a heavy thud. The body of Felix Burmeister fell in a heap to the floor, lifeless—cold—unmoving.
“Mr. Burmeister, unfortunately, won’t get an opportunity to answer it.”
The mob boss was stunned silent. He’d witnessed his fair share of killings, even carried out a few. But this was different, there was a very real possibility that he would not make it out of this alive. He had to play smart—he had to give Luthour something that would keep him alive. And it had to be quick, because the still smoking barrel of a very large Desert Eagle was aimed right at his forehead.
“Now, you’ll tell me everything you’ve told Nowitski and his terrorist buddies, or you and Felix here will have matching holes in your heads.”
“I didn’t tell him anything boss, we were on our way to the meet when Nigel picked us up.” Sweat beaded on Cretini’s brow—escape was looking less and less likely. The mad gleam in Lex Luthour’s eye was something he’d never seen in his life. From the start of his association with the billionaire, he’d shown nothing but cool nonchalance in any situation. He’d never seen him loose control like this before, he prayed to every god he could think of that Lex would show leniency.
Pain shot through his arm as a bullet tore through the muscle and sinew of his bicep. Screaming and thrashing like a wounded animal, Alonzo fell to the floor.
“Alright! I tell you everything,” he yelled saliva spewing forth from his mouth.
Nigel and Mrs. Cox exchanged a troubled glance, they, like Cretini, had never seen Lex so careless—so single minded in his pursuit of a goal. His desperation was evident, in the fact that it was he not one of his underlings doing the “wet works”.
Pushing through the blinding pain in his arm Alonzo began to speak “Nowitski has the stones—Felix and I staged the jewelry heist a week before you planned yours. I shot Haas, and Felix got away with the briefcase. We found the stones a couple of days ago—we—we sold them to Nowitski last night.” His last words came out as a muffled sob, tears streaked his handsome face.
“Thank you Alonzo,” Lex said, as he tried desperately to control his rage. He turned toward the expansive windows of his penthouse, and gazed trance-like at the streets below. “Nigel” he uttered distractedly, a single word of command to the older gentleman.
Without thought, the former MI-5 operative pulled his weapon from its holster, and delivered a single shot to the back of Alonzo Cretini’s head.
“What do we do now Mr. Luthour?”
Lex chuckled, causing his two companions to stare at him quizzically.
He wanted to throw himself off the balcony on the thirtieth floor, but he couldn’t—he had to live if not for himself then for Lois. He could live in a world devoid of all life all color, as long as he had her on his arm. Which left him with one course of action--he had to come forward with what he knew—without implicating himself of course—and as fate would have it two perfect stooges lay at his feet.
“Nigel, take this mess down to the docks” he said nodding in Felix and Alonzo’s direction “make sure you leave this on the bodies.”
St. John took hold of the piece of paper in his boss’s outstretched hand, and looked at the lone emblem etched upon it. “The Hammer of Thor sir?”
“Yes, I have a plan. Mrs. Cox get me Perry White on the phone, then call Trevainian I’ll need that corpus fool to spin this in Washington.” With renewed vigor he snatched a cigar from his ivory case, snipping the end and lighting it.
“Nigel, when you’re done disposing of that, make sure my underground bunker is stocked to capacity.”
“I don’t understand Lex.” His personal secretary chimed.
“It’s quite simple my dear. It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I plan on making a tidy little profit.”
****
Deep within the bowels of the Metropolitan sewer system a man was hard at work. His hands steady over the hazardous chemicals he manipulated. The muscles of his biceps jumped and danced as he worked diligently, crafting the instrument of civilizations demise. His name was Dimitri Nowitski, and after a decade of playing freedom fighter to a bunch of idealistic fools he would finally have what he wanted.
Before 1982 he would never have guessed that this would be his life. The Dimitri Nowitski of yesteryear would have gladly taken a bullet for Mother Russia, and done so with a smile on his face. That was when patriotism meant something to; now it was just another ten letter word thrown around by the pinheaded dreamers in Moscow. Back then Dimitri had something to live for—more appropriately someone to live for. His wife Anastasia.
He and Ana had grown up together, and grown to love each other very deeply over the years. They married one year after he joined the KGB, and lived in a tiny apartment in the heart of Stalingrad. Ana became pregnant a year later while he was out on assignment. She had been so delighted at the news, she immediately wrote him a letter and sent it to his office.
The correspondence was immediately opened and inspected upon arrival to the mail room, and the news traveled to Dimitri’s superior officer. Josef Brish, didn’t believe in his operatives forming attachments. To him the best soldier was a man with nothing to loose. Dimitri smiled at that thought, good old Josef would finally get what he wanted.
They’d lured Ana to the clinic under the pretense of prenatal care. After they drugged her, and stripped her of any documents that would identify her, she was taken via train to a “Corrective Labor Camp”. He never saw his Ana again, and he could only assume that the baby had been neutralized. Inhaling deeply he put the finishing touches on the shell of his device, running his hands over the smooth pale green stones attached. They felt familiar, warm as if there might be something living inside them. Who knew with alien technology, they might just as well be emeralds for all he cared, as long as they had the results he was searching for.
The unmistakable S symbol etched upon them glowed red, as if protesting the way it was currently being abused. Dimitri smiled and hit the final switch, current rushed through the machine, as a small timer began to count down earth’s final hours…23:59:59.
***
Metropolis General Hospital
Remington studied his opponent carefully, checking for any hesitation behind her moves. Her hands were steady as she moved her player across the board. Perfect—she’d left an opening, moving swiftly he slammed his piece into the vacant spot. A glance at her face told him he’d done it, he was victorious.
“I believe this is the part of the game were I say King me.”
Laura sighed, her patience wearing slightly “Mr. Steele, we’re playing Foxes and Hounds, not Checkers.”
Steele lifted his brow, slightly puzzled “Uhh…how long have we been playing?” with exaggerated slowness he retrieved his water cup from the nightstand.
“Oh—I’d say the better part of thirty minutes. You’re the one who suggested we play this game, remember?”
His face remained blank with confusion, “yes…well perhaps it’s time we turned down the morphine drip.”
Laura couldn’t suppress the smile that lit her face. A few short days ago she’d been afraid to even breathe, for fear her husband wouldn’t make it. He was truly the other half of her being, and only god knew what she would do if he was gone. For years she’d tried to fight the growing attraction and feelings for her partner, afraid that he’d only want a quick roll in the hay, or that he wouldn’t feel the same way, or even worse if he left her. But as time went by the excuses all seemed extraordinarily lame, even to her. When they’d finally taken the plunge she couldn’t believe how simple it had really been.
*****It was late one evening in December, the slow season for private investigation, she was filing he was throwing darts in his office—Mildred was off running some inane errand. He’d come into her office on the pretense of needing paper clips, since he never did paper work she knew he was up to something. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself, and give him the paper clips that way she could get back to work.
He returned to his office, and didn’t reemerge for another hour and a half—by then she was mad with curiosity. With a determined stride she pushed through the door of his office, “What are you up to in here?” she asked resting her hip against the door frame. Remington looked up from his work pen still poised above the documents upon his desk.
“Just filling out some paper work Laura, nothing nefarious about that is there?” She didn’t buy his innocent act, no matter how cute his crooked grin was, or how sexy she thought his cobalt blue eyes were when they were twinkling with mischief.
“What kind of papers” she asked feigning nonchalance.
“From the INS.” He answered, just as casually. The INS! Why would Immigration be interested in Remington Steele?
“The INS, would you like to share Mr. Steele? Or are you planning on playing the quiet game for the rest of the evening.”
“Actually Laura I had every intention of telling, I just haven’t had the opportunity.”
She moved to his desk and put her palms flat on its surface “Well, let’s have it”
Remington sighed running his fingers throw the thick length of his coal black hair, “I’m trying to apply for permanent U. S citizenship, but I’m hitting a lot of red tape. They’re trying to deport me back to Ireland.”
Laura was stunned, how could he not tell her something as important as possible expulsion from the country. It was simply unacceptable, he couldn’t leave they were partners fifty-fifty. She’d be damned if some bureaucratic nonsense was going deprive her of the man she loved…
And in that moment she knew…she couldn’t live without him. It took her about thirty seconds to make up her mind, some would say it was rash, impulsive, but looking back she realized it was the most important choice she had ever made.
“Marry me” she’d said voice quivering with emotion—afraid that he’d reject her, tell her he wasn’t THAT desperate to stay in America, but she was even more afraid that he’d say yes.
“Laura…” his voice trailed off as he rose from behind the ridiculously large desk. He looked at her with varying degrees of incredulity, reluctance, and a deeper emotion she couldn’t quite place, “Laura…d-don’t do this because you want me to stay in the country I-I—“
“I’m not—I mean I am—I mean. I don’t know what I mean,” she sighed “I just know that the second you t-told me you could get deported, I froze inside. Rem you mean more to me then you’ll ever realize, more then I could ever admit to myself. It’s true that I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t want to imagine my life without you.”
“Laura, if I married you wouldn’t you always wonder if I did it just to stay in America? I mean I know we both…care for each other very deeply, but I wouldn’t want to base a whole relationship on outmaneuvering a government agency.”
“Nor would I”
“That’s my point love” he said moving closer so that they were standing nose to nose “When I marry you I don’t want all this bureaucratic government nonsense between us. Just you, me and a preacher and maybe Mildred, but with our luck she’ll interrupt us with some case nonsense during the good part.”
Laura stared blankly out of the window. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right, but it sounded as if he’d admitted to loving her. But that was impossible; the unspoken rule in their relationship had always been avoid the ‘L’ word. She turned from the window contemplating the man in front of her. He’d come a long way from the “slightly shady shamus”, who’d barged into her life so many years ago, he was more responsible and defiantly more open, and while he hadn’t been fully candid about his mysterious past but he wasn’t going out of his way to conceal it anymore either. He’d proven to be trustworthy, honest, loyal, caring, affectionate, sweet, kind, and in a few rare instances vulnerable. She loved him—was in love with him—and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
“I love you.” it was no more then a whisper, so faint that if they’d not been standing merely inches apart he would not have heard it, but he had.
“Laura…I-I…you…what?” he fumbled over words, sentences remaining elusive in his advanced state of shock.
“I love you” she said more firmly, “and I don’t give a damn what Immigration might think I want to marry you, to be with you, for the rest of my life…you feel the same way as I do—“
“Of course I do, but Laura, you’ve never said so before.”
“That’s because I’ve been selfish. I thought that I could remain unattached to you, so if you did leave me some day I wouldn’t be hurt. But one day I realized how impossible that supposition was. You were already in my blood, the air I breathed the food I ate. The first day I woke up, and realized how much I loved you the whole world looked different. But I was still a coward, and I didn’t tell you.”
Remington cupped Laura’s face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “You are not a coward Laura; the fact that you could even contemplate giving you heart to a mess like me is proof of how courageous you really are. I’ve loved you so completely for so long that the thought of leaving never crossed my mind. I want you to know that I’ve been yours ever since our first week as partners.”
Laura looked shocked “That long?”
“Well I may be exaggerating a little” he said, eyes glinting with mischief “it was actually our second week as partners.” *****
Laura was brought back to the present by a knock at the door “Mrs. Steele,” Joyce, peeked into the room “there are some reporters here to see you.”
“Reporters from where?” she asked not wanting to upset Remington with media sharks at the moment.
“Uh…the Daily Planet” she looked almost giddy at the thought of reporters on the premises. Not for the first time Laura, wondered about the level of competence among the hospital staff. Ever since she’d discovered the reason they’d been late to respond to Remington falling on the floor the night he’d awoke, was due to the nurses taking unscheduled breaks, she’d been wary of anyone who wasn’t Remington’s doctor entering the room.
“Send them away” she said taking her husbands hand in her own. He was dozing quietly, despite his attempts to stay awake.
“They’re very persistent, Ms. Lane—“
“Lois Lane?”
“Yes ma’am, and her hunky partner Clark Kent. They’re waiting for you outside in the lobby.”
She looked back at Rem, his eyelids moved slightly in sleep his chest rising and falling rhythmically. It wouldn’t hurt just to talk to them, after all they were friendly faces, and they’d been very personable at the ball. What could it hurt?
“Alright” she sighed leaning to drop a kiss on Remington’s brow “but just for a few minutes.”
22:40:35
