Title: Ribbons and Bows
Author: knightshade
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own him. It's probably a good thing. Glen A. Larson, Universal and apparently the Weinstein brothers own the rights to Knight Rider.

Summary: Michael has a Christmas ritual.

Ribbons and Bows

Michael ran his finger over the ribbon. He always went out of his way to find a card with ribbons or bows. They had always been her favorite decorations for the holidays. She had velvet of every variety and color covering the house from top to bottom. He smiled slightly at the memory, touching the soft material with a deep reverence.

It always took him a while to find just the right card. It had to say all that he wanted to say but generically. He buzzed past the cards that were addressed to family members and avoided the syrupy-sweet Hallmark poetry. He always went for something simple and direct, something he could hide behind.

Michael picked up a red pen in his left hand. 'Santa writing' his dad had called it. His parents had used their left hands so that Michael and his brother wouldn't recognize the penmanship. It was only years later, when he knew there was no such thing as Santa Claus, that he'd thought to ask about the shaky, halting script on all their gift tags. Michael had always thought that someday he'd use it for his kids.

Holding the pen awkwardly in his unsure hand, he scratched the simplest of greetings at the bottom of the card.

Merry Christmas

Michael stared down at his own shaky writing knowing there was so much more he wanted to say, so much poured out into those two little words that it choked him up.

The first time he'd done this, it felt dangerous. He'd worried about the handwriting and the sentiment and the postmark. But then he'd remembered the Santa writing and had discovered a whole array of cards that expressed what he felt without giving too much away. Michael always bought this card at the end of November, knowing he was always somewhere on a case in December.

And he'd never postmarked a card from the same place twice.

His eyes swam and he tried not to think too much. Michael didn't allow himself many moments like this, but it was the holidays and he felt entitled. He had to let himself feel it sometime. He closed the card and slid it into the envelope. With his left hand he carefully addressed the front, leaving no return address. There really wasn't one anyway.

His jacket was flung across a chair near the door of the hotel room. Michael slipped it on like so much armor and then he was out into the brisk cold. He strode past Kitt's parking spot without incident. Kitt knew by now.

He'd spotted the mailbox on the corner near the hotel when they drove into town. This year the postmark would be from Boise. It was as good as anywhere, he imagined.

Michael pulled down the little blue door and sighed. Merry Christmas, Mom, he thought.

He let the card fall into the open maw of the mailbox and wondered if there would ever come a day when he could do more than just mail his heart home.

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-knightshade
December 14, 2006