Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlighting or these characters.

Author's Note (edited 10/4/09): When it was originally posted (egad! three months ago!), this story was supposed to be a simple, three-chapter retelling of "Blonde on Blonde." Well, when I got to Chapter 3, we were still just at the beginning, and by the time we arrived at Chapter 7, things had really spiraled out of control, with all the characters--even Sam!--wanting to have their say.

So what you're looking at now is an alternate-universe version of four seminal episodes from the end of the third season: "Blonde on Blonde," "Sam & Dave," "Maddie's Turn to Cry," and "I Am Curious...Maddie." Faithful Moonlighting fans will, I hope, notice a few parallels to these episodes; where possible, I have tried to make connections with the originals to honor their brilliance and give readers a sense of where we are in the timeline.

Thanks for reading and, especially, for reviewing. Your feedback is deeply appreciated! If you're just joining us...I hope you enjoy the ride. ;)

Blonde on Blonde: The Remix

Chapter One

David stood in a shadowy alcove near the restroom, waiting for his quarry to reappear. He shuddered at the memory of their earlier conversation: Maddie's faraway look; the bemused smile that hovered on her lips; but most of all, her words: "I'd like to go out there and find some man…not even ask his name…and go to a hotel or something…not even know his name…and just be bad…be wonderful…"

He had felt revulsion—or something—roil in his gut before out-and-out panic took over. After she took off down the hallway, he Shanghaied Bert (and Bert's brand-new wheels) and followed her. He had thought they were out of the woods when she stopped at the grocery store, but then she'd changed course and ended up at this watering hole for desperate yuppies. Luckily, the "talent" here was so pathetic that it looked like she had given up the hunt.

Suddenly, the ladies' room door banged open, and he glimpsed a blonde in a cream-colored coat and hat. David asked Bert, waiting beside him, for his keys. "Cover the front," David ordered. "I'll drive this time." Bert hesitated, then reluctantly handed over the keys and headed outside.

David pulled up his collar and hurried to the exit, keeping the blonde in his sights. Just as she reached the front entrance, though, she turned her head; David caught her profile, realizing with a start that he had the right coat…but the wrong woman. What the—? Ah, well, no time to dwell on an odd fashion coincidence—he had to make sure Maddie didn't get away.

He started to weave his way back to the bathroom when he saw her come out, making her way determinedly to the side door. He turned quickly, shielding his face with one hand, and trailed her out to the parking lot. Running to the Ford as unobtrusively as possible, he got in and managed to merge into traffic only two cars behind the BMW. He was so focused that he forgot poor Bert entirely.

Maddie took a familiar route, and he felt some of the gutting tension inside him release. When she turned into her driveway, he pulled over to the side of the road, letting out a long breath. An idea came to him as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

Really? Nah—he didn't really—she might—it would never work.

But what the hell.

* * *

He pulled back into the driveway, quickly killing the engine and the lights. Climbing out of the car, he smoothed down his black jeans and yanked the lapels of his leather jacket up against the rain. His boots splashed over the pavers as he jogged to her front door.

Once out of the rain, he took a deep breath and adjusted the mask over his eyes. It had taken him nearly an hour to find it, in an all-night discount store; he had spent another half hour in pursuit of a perfect red rose. Holding the bloom down by his side, he lifted his other hand and knocked quietly.

He waited. And knocked again, this time louder.

Maddie opened the door a crack and peered out. She looked frightened at first, and then confused. "David?" she said uncertainly.

"Special delivery," he said, leaning into the small opening. She was wearing a lavender silk nightgown, trimmed in lace, with a matching robe. David's hands practically itched to touch her soft skin.

"Special what?" she said, keeping the door latched. She seemed hesitant to let him in; looking out at the now-pouring rain, however, she relented and opened the door. "What are you wearing?" she asked, as he stepped inside.

He shut the door and then turned, backing her against it. "Special delivery," he said, holding up the rose. "Did you or did you not order one stranger"—he smiled—"tall, dark, and handsome"—he trailed the rose down her cheek—"whose name you don't know?" He moved very close to her, running the rose over her lips and down her neck.

He saw her swallow, watched her fight for breath. "But I know your name," she protested.

He propped one hand on the door behind her. "Not tonight, you don't," he said, and covered her mouth with his.

He could feel her shock of surprise, but he didn't stop kissing her. God, her lips were so soft…he had almost forgotten… She went slightly limp, sinking back against the door. He drew back to look at her face, to see how far she wanted to take this little game. Before he could break away, however, Maddie grabbed his jacket and pulled him still closer, starting the war of lips and tongues all over again.

David abandoned his scruples and lost himself in her. The rose fluttered to the floor forgotten, as he slid his arms around her, gathering the silk of her robe in his fists.

Neither of them heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Maddie!" exclaimed a man's voice, hovering on the edge of David's consciousness. "Get off of her!" Someone ripped him away from Maddie, landing a powerful fist on his jaw and sending him sprawling backwards.

"Sam!" Maddie shouted, grabbing his assailant's arm.

David looked up from his position on the Mexican tile. Standing next to Maddie, dressed only in jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt, was a chiseled-looking guy with a full head of light-brown hair. David got up, running his finger over the corner of his mouth; he tasted blood. He glanced at Maddie, who was holding her robe tightly closed. She looked aghast…and guilty.

David and the chiseled guy (Sam, had she called him? Guess she'd relented on the name thing) spoke at the same time. "Who the hell is this, Maddie?"

Their simultaneous question seemed to shock her out of her silence.

"None of your damn business!" she snapped, whether at her partner or the stranger, David couldn't tell. She pointed to Sam: "You—upstairs!" and then to David: "You—living room!"

Sam obeyed; David, however, stripped off his mask and thrust it at her. "Didn't realize this position was already taken," he said bitingly. "Sorry to have interrupted your"—he glanced up the stairs—"evening." He turned on his booted heel.

"David!" Maddie called, but he was already out the door.