Title: Sand Castles
Author: knightshade
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Disclaimer: I don't own Knight Rider – Glen A. Larson is the genius. I sincerely hope that no one is offended or bothered by my playing with the characters. I only play with them because I love them (and yes, I read Robin Hobbs).
Author's Notes: This takes place in the spaces of season 1 after Chariot of Gold. It was inspired by the convergence of several things (as is often the case for me): the song Sleeps With Butterflies by Tori Amos, events in the novelizations, one out of place scene, and some wonderful conversations with Almighty Hat. Thank yous are in order, as they always are -- it's not as much fun to do this alone. Thank you to Almighty Hat for the inspiration. Thank you to Nutty for suggestions on the first scene, among other things. Thank you and love to Tomy for suggestions for scenes, POV help, and beta reads.
Sand Castles
Michael had had more than his fill of the fundraiser by the time he spotted Bonnie standing by herself at the edge of the ballroom. There were few things he liked less than hobnobbing with Foundation donors, making inane small talk, and wearing a tux. And tonight he'd managed to get himself stuck at a table with the Smits, who were notorious among the Foundation's donors for being snobby, pretentious bores. He had a sneaky suspicion that Devon had stuck him there intentionally because he'd been late. Michael had suffered through dinner and now he felt like he had more than done his duty to the Foundation. He was done mingling for the night.
He made his way across the room, taking the opportunity to admire Bonnie in her black, sequined dress. At least there were some perks to attending these things. It wasn't often he got to see her in something clingy that showed off her legs.
"You look like you could use another glass of the Foundation's very expensive champagne," he said, sidling up behind her.
She glanced down at the empty flute in her hand. "Ah, no, that's okay. I've had my share, but thank you."
She smiled and Michael was pretty sure he detected just a hint of relief there. She never complained about having to attend fundraisers, but Michael got the impression she didn't like them any more than he did.
"I see you escaped from the Smits." She had a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Yeah. I finally slipped them. Although, if they come looking, you'll have to hide me."
Bonnie grinned. "Sorry, I haven't perfected Invisibility Mode yet, but I'm working on it."
"You know I'm starting to feel like an exhibit at the zoo with a sign next to my cage that says 'How the other half lives.' Last weekend it was the super smart, this weekend it's the super rich."
He caught her cringing a little at the reference to Helios. He wondered if that was still a bit of a sore spot.
"Well, look at it this way -- how often do you get to attend $1000-a-plate dinners? You might as well enjoy it," she said, her smile still there, if lacking a little of its former luster.
"I think I'd enjoy it more with better company. And speaking of which, I was thinking of hiding out on the veranda for a while. Would you care to join me?"
"Ah . . ." Bonnie glanced around the room.
He followed her gaze to where Devon was obviously working the crowd and laughed. "No offense, but since you aren't a wealthy donor with a blank check in hand, I don't think he's going to notice you're gone."
She laughed. "You're probably right. I guess I'm in the 'other half' exhibit too."
Michael took the empty champagne glass from her and set it aside on a table. Then he held out his arm to escort her out of the crowded room. The veranda was alight with the glow of candles floating in small bowls on each of the tables. What were probably very expensive flowers completed the look. It was a warm night and they weren't the only ones who'd decided to escape the crowd. Michael led Bonnie to a table at the end of the patio, overlooking the reflecting pool. He held out a chair for her – one with a view out over the gardens. "Will this do, milady?"
She paused behind the chair and then cocked her head to the side. "Actually, it's a beautiful night. Maybe we should take a walk."
"An even better way to hide from the Smits. I think I like that idea."
Michael abandoned the table and led the way down the steps. They passed by the reflecting pool and he marveled at the fact that someone had actually taken the time to float candles in it too.
"Devon really went all out for this, didn't he?" Michael asked, watching the little pools of light that wandered across the surface of the water.
"I think it's nice – seeing the same things you see everyday in way that's a little different." She was staring wistfully down at the water as they strolled past.
"Yeah, but I'd love to know how much he paid some consultant to find just the right candles."
"You're probably better off not knowing."
Michael laughed and led the way past the pool out onto one of the many paths that crisscrossed the grounds. They strolled through columns of flowering bushes and lights made to look like lanterns. They were accompanied by a light breeze that seemed to come and go on a whim. Michael was comfortable, but he caught Bonnie shivering slightly and rubbing her arms.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
"Just a little. Whoever came up with the concept for formal wear did it backwards – the men in multiple layers of long sleeves and the woman in dresses with spaghetti straps."
"I don't see a problem with that," Michael said, grinning. She gave him one of her trademark exasperated stares as he slid off his tux jacket and draped it around her shoulders. It was a shame though. He really liked her in that dress. "You look beautiful tonight," he said softly.
"Thank you." She pulled his jacket a little tighter. "You look rather dashing yourself," she said with an appraising glance.
For some reason that he couldn't quite put his finger on, the compliment left him feeling a little off kilter. He brushed it off with a shrug. "I hate these things. I feel like I'm wearing a monkey suit."
The silence that followed was awkward and Michael wasn't sure why he suddenly felt out of his element. "So did you get Kitt's code all fixed up?" he asked to fill the heavy void.
Even through the shadows he could see the sheepish look on her face. "Yes. I think so."
"You think so?" he asked, laughing. "He's not going to go all murderous on me again, is he?"
"No. I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about that." She slowed and stopped in the shadow of one of the large evergreens that sheltered the grounds. "Actually I'm glad we have a chance to talk. I wanted to apologize for the things I did under the influence, so to speak. I'm sorry about threatening you and reprogramming Kitt."
"So you do remember what you did while you were brainwashed, huh?"
She looked up at him, chagrinned. "Most of it. Yes."
"Don't worry about it." He playful nudged her shoulder, and started to walk again. "Next time 'Just Say No' to brainwashing drugs peddled by crazy Darwinian secret societies, okay?" He tried to say it gently and was relieved to see the corners of her mouth turn up slightly.
"I'll try to keep that in mind." She smiled but then glanced down. "Michael, I also wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I really haven't given you the credit you deserve."
He knotted his brow, confused.
"I just mean, in general. I've been far too quick to blame you when things go wrong and Kitt gets damaged. I know you're just doing your job."
Michael blinked. "Thank you, Bonnie." He hesitated, still confused. "But where is all this coming from?"
"I just. . . Seeing you talk Kitt out of Deauville's programming, talking me out of mine, it was impressive. It made me realize how good you are at this."
Impressive? He frowned slightly and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "I appreciate that, Bonnie. But I don't think there was anything all that impressive about it. It was just the truth," he said softly, trying to keep his voice neutral, despite feeling a little too exposed. "Right?"
She turned away, but even in the low light he could see she was embarrassed. "Sometimes the truth isn't all that easy to recognize. Or say out loud." She turned her head slightly like she wanted to say more, but was hesitating.
"It's easier when you have to do something to help the people you care about. I had a lot of incentive."
"I suppose so. But what you said means a lot to me." She smiled up at him a little sadly and Michael again got the impression there was something else.
"I am really sorry for blaming you for things you couldn't help," she continued.
The last time they'd talked like this was when they'd been in Kitt, and Karr had been barreling down on them. He wasn't sure why they were going down this road again. Michael shrugged it off as the consequences of being in a life or death situation. "I am irresponsible sometimes. Usually I'm just trying to do my job, but it's okay if you call me on it. You're just doing your job." There were times when it hadn't been okay, times when it seemed like he couldn't do anything right. But there were other times when he knew she appreciated him even if she didn't say it.
"Either way, I'm sorry." She looked down at the path, avoiding his eyes. "If it's okay with you, I'd just like to start over."
"There's no need to start over," he said affectionately. "You may have gotten on my case a few times, but it's really nothing to worry about."
He thought that should put the issue to rest, but Bonnie got quiet again, which confused him even more. So much about her tonight was confusing. It almost reminded him of the early days when he first met her - like he wasn't quite sure where he stood. "Okay. So, where to?" he asked wanting to change the subject. "Back to the party?"
She shrugged. "We could keep walking."
"Walking it is." He slid his arm across her shoulder and let it rest there lightly as they continued down the path.
The far end of the Foundation's grounds was a little more natural than the formal gardens around the estate. The breeze had picked up just a hint and carried with it the smells of spring – the deep earthiness of fresh mulch, the tang of pine, and the sultry fragrance of flowers. Michael was used to nights like this out in the desert – he loved them. But there was something wilder here. It had rained the last few days making it uncharacteristically humid, and somehow the air seemed heavier, more alive.
He took in a deep breath. "Growing up I used to love spring nights like this. There's something about a warm breeze that just takes me back."
"For me it's the smell of pine," Bonnie said, tilting her head to gaze up at the boughs above them. Then she turned to stare at him. She held his gaze until he felt he had to look away.
"What?" he prompted.
She shook her head slightly. "Nothing."
But Michael was finally starting to figure out what she wasn't saying. And the feeling that he was off balance was starting to make sense. "Is everything okay? You seem different tonight," he asked, feeling the need to be a little guarded. He really didn't want to be wrong.
"Everything's fine." She sounded almost disappointed, but she left it at that.
They came upon the back wall of the estate – a stucco barrier against the outside world -- and followed it. They passed a dark tangle of bushes covered in white flowers that glowed softly in the faint moonlight. Their scent was almost overwhelming – pretty, but very potent. Bonnie stopped to pick one of the palm-sized blooms. She held it up near her nose and breathed in its fragrance.
"What is it?" To Michael's untrained eye, it looked vaguely rose-like.
"Gardenia. I've always loved the way they smell."
She held it out toward him and he bent his head slightly to take in the scent. As he pulled back, he caught another significant look. They had always flirted after a fashion, but something had definitely changed, and it surprised him. Maybe he had just been conditioned to ignore his attraction to her after all those early shoot-downs and death glares. But he wasn't getting glares now.
On a whim he took the flower out of her hand. He stepped forward, a little bit closer than he'd normally dare. When she didn't back away, he tucked the flower behind her ear and let his hand trail back down her hair to her shoulder again. She still wasn't backing away. Their eyes met and butterflies took flight in his stomach.
"Bonnie . . ." He didn't even know how to ask her what was on his mind. All he knew was that he'd always found her attractive and the fact that she might actually be returning his affection was a bit overwhelming. Part of him was a little unnerved about the prospect of doing anything about it. "I'm not about to make a fool of myself am I?" he asked.
"No," she said softly.
Michael leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, still half-expecting her to object. When she didn't, he gently pulled her closer, weaving his fingers through her hair. He thought he felt her shiver against him. "Cold?" he asked pulling back and running his thumb along her cheekbone.
There was a pretty sparkle, a reflection of the moonlight in her eye. "No," she said, smiling.
They kissed again and this time Michael let himself be completely swept up in the moment.
- - -
Bonnie woke to the feel of someone lightly caressing her cheek, and then tucking her hair behind her ear. She opened her eyes, squinted against the light streaming through the window, and smiled at the man lying in bed next to her. Michael was propped up on one arm, and seemed to be studying her with an intensity that, had she been more awake, would have made her feel self-conscious. "What?" she asked groggily, meeting the gaze of his impossibly blue eyes.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, smiling as he ran his hand over her bare shoulder. "Sorry to wake you up."
It had always secretly thrilled her when he called her beautiful. "I can think of worse ways to wake up."
"Did you sleep okay?" he asked, his fingers twining a bit of her hair.
She took in a deep breath and sighed it out. "I slept wonderfully. And you?"
"I can't complain."
There was an adorable grin playing across his lips that made her melt. He was a charmer – there was no denying that.
"So how long have you been awake?" she asked, realizing that the room was rather bright.
Michael glanced over her shoulder, to where she assumed he must have the alarm clock. "A little while."
She got the distinct impression that it had probably been longer than he was going to admit. "Sorry. With all the late nights and odd hours, I have a tendency to sleep in when I can."
"Don't worry about it. I know the feeling. For me it's having a soft bed to sleep in instead of Kitt's bucket seats."
She cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think they were designed with sleeping in mind." It was interesting the similarities in their lives that she had never really considered. He probably endured as many sleepless nights as she did, if not more.
"Are you hungry? I make mean scrambled eggs," he said, caressing her cheek and then gently rubbing at something that was probably eye shadow or a mascara smudge. He looked so intent. So . . . she wasn't sure what.
"Michael Knight's offering to cook for me? How can I refuse?" She glanced at the dress that was slung over the chair in the corner. "Although I'm afraid I'd be a little overdressed for breakfast."
"You're welcomed to go underdressed," he said with a mischievous leer.
She rolled her eyes and hit him playfully on the arm. "Some clothes would be nice."
"Ahh, okay. Clothes." Michael kissed her shoulder before crawling out of bed. He stared into his closet for a minute and then pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
"I think you might have to send a search party to find me in those."
"Oh, so now we're getting picky, huh?"
"Maybe," she said coyly.
"I'll tell you what. You're welcomed to wear anything you can find in my closet. I'm gonna go start breakfast."
"Fair enough."
Michael pulled on a pair of shorts and padded out of the room. Bonnie rolled over and dragged herself out of bed. She glanced at her dress which was resting across the top of Michael's tux. On a whim, she picked up the jacket and pulled it to her chest. It was stiff and a little scratchy against her bare skin, but it smelled like him. There was still a hint of his cologne near the collar. She took the jacket with her to the closet, found the garment bag from the rental place, and hung it up for him. She brushed it off and straightened it on the hanger. Then she hung up the shirt and pants and started going through his clothes. She stifled a laugh when she came across a very bad orange and brown polyester shirt tucked in with a few other seventies leftovers. But she couldn't laugh too hard – she had some bad disco attire hidden in her closet as well. A button down shirt with thin, vertical blue stripes finally caught her eye. She slid it on and rolled up the sleeves that were several inches longer than her arms. She smiled when she noticed that the shirt went all the way down to the middle of her thighs.
Bonnie ran her hands though her hair, wishing she had a rubber band to tie it back and then left the bedroom to join Michael. She walked into the kitchen just in time to see him leaning against the refrigerator door, sniffing a carton of orange juice. "Should I be afraid?" she asked, grinning.
Michael started. "Ahhh. I was just . . ."
"Checking?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I ahhh, I travel a lot," he said, standing up straight and grinning.
His eyes followed the stripes of the shirt down to their end and then slowly back up again. Bonnie smiled inwardly – apparently she had chosen well. "I might fall for that, except that I happen to know you've been home for a week now," she teased. "Maybe I should rethink breakfast."
Michael laughed and pulled down a pair of glasses. "You'll just have to live dangerously."
That she would. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"You could make the coffee, if you want. The filters are in the cabinet above you and there's a bag of grounds in the freezer."
She started the coffee brewing and toasted the bread while Michael finished with the eggs. They both took seats at the table, Bonnie with one leg tucked under her. Michael pulled a paper napkin off the table, set it in his lap and with what seemed like deliberate nonchalance asked, "So what changed your mind?"
She looked up at him, confused. "About?"
He studiously chased a bit of egg around his plate. "Me."
She felt her cheeks getting warm, but she'd known the question would come up sooner or later. It was a fair question.
"I don't know that it was changing my mind so much as accepting one state of mind over another."
Michael took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that I've spent a lot of time trying to fight the fact that I was attracted to you. I've always been confused about you."
"And now you aren't?"
She smiled, embarrassed. "I don't know about that. I just . . . I just needed to know that I was more to you than a conquest. I needed to know that I wasn't jeopardizing my career for a roll in the hay."
As soon as she said it, she felt bad for putting it like that. It was harsher than she meant it to be.
Michael didn't take his eyes off his plate. "I wouldn't have done that, Bonnie," he said softly. "You mean too much to me for that."
He sounded a little hurt, but it wasn't as if he hadn't given her reason to worry about that. "I'm sorry. On some level, I knew that, but I needed to see it for myself. And I guess I finally did last weekend." When he'd told her that they loved each other in the museum parking lot, she had believed him implicitly. Somehow in that moment she knew it without question.
"It's okay. I can't really blame you for thinking that way. I'm glad you changed your mind though." He took a gulp of his orange juice and swirled the glass a bit before setting it down. Then he looked up with a tension-breaking grin. "So the way to get you in bed was to make you think I wasn't trying to get you in bed?"
He got a full laugh and an eye roll. "Don't make me regret this."
His smile was gone again in an instant, replaced with a tight set to his jaw. He avoided looking at her for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Then he said quietly, "Do you? Regret this?"
She froze. That wasn't what she meant. "No. Not at all." She had never been one to jump right into bed with a man, but that was hardly the case here. They'd known each other long enough to have formed a meaningful attachment, even if it wasn't, strictly speaking, a dating relationship. And she wasn't one to do things halfway – at least not after she'd made up her mind. Bonnie reached across the top of the table and took his hand. "I definitely don't regret this. I was just joking."
"You sure?" he asked, still looking hesitant.
His demeanor was so different from the confident, lady-killer persona she was used to seeing. That in itself was proof enough for her that she had been right to trust him. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Of course I'm sure."
"Good." Michael smiled again which made Bonnie's heart skip a few beats. He leaned forward to meet her halfway across the table, clearly about to kiss her . . .
When the phone rang.
Michael groaned and he sank down until his forehead was resting against the tabletop. "There's only one person who calls me on Saturday mornings."
The phone let out the second in its series of wails and a sense of dread coiled into a knot in Bonnie's stomach. "You know if you don't answer and Kitt's here, he'll probably come looking for you." She had a feeling that would be slightly disastrous – she did not think Devon would approve. And certainly not if he caught them together like this.
Michael ignored another ring but then rolled his eyes in defeat and got up to answer it. "Yes, Devon?"
Michael listened for a moment and then let out a long suffering sigh. "It's Saturday morning." He paused again. Bonnie could hear the faint, tinny voice through the handset but she could only make out Michael's end of the conversation. "They're all very important cases and I'm not feeling well," he said with mock indignation. "Besides, you stuck me with the Smits last night. Do you have any idea how boring and insufferable they are? I deserve time off for good behavior."
He winked at Bonnie who had put her hand in front of her mouth to cover her laugh. Michael's ploy obviously worked because he ended the conversation with, "Thank you, Devon," before hanging up the phone.
He joined her back at the table looking smug. "I bought us a little bit of time. A few hours at least." He came up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders.
"No rest for the wicked, huh?" she said, looking up at him.
"Who said I needed rest?" he asked playfully, leaning down and claiming their interrupted kiss.
- - -
Michael dumped his bag in Kitt's trunk and closed it a bit harder than necessary. Normally he didn't care that much about getting a case on a Saturday. As long as he didn't have plans, it didn't really matter. But there was only one place he wanted to be right now.
"So where are we off to this time, buddy?" he asked as he got in the car.
"Missoula, Montana," Kitt answered.
"Montana?" Suddenly Michael did feel tired. "Somehow, Devon neglected to mention that." It was going to make for a long trip. He had been hoping it would be something closer to home.
"Is that a problem?" Kitt asked neutrally.
"No. It's just a long way away."
"One thousand, two hundred and twelve miles to be exact."
That didn't make him feel any better. Michael put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He hoped he was imagining things, but the silence that followed seemed uneasy, strained. He assumed that Kitt probably knew what had happened last night, but he was still clinging to the hope that maybe he didn't. Maybe Kitt had been recharging or doing whatever it was that he did in his spare time.
"Michael, can I ask you a question?"
That blew away any illusions Michael might have had. "No," he said simply, knowing that wasn't likely to deter his partner.
"I see." It was harsh and demanding. Only Kitt could put so much disdain in two little words. Well, maybe Devon could, but Michael wasn't ready to think about that yet.
"Kitt, just drop it."
"Michael, in the short time that we've known each other, you've had a lot of lady friends."
"This is not open for discussion." There was an edge to his voice that even Michael didn't like.
"The average length of your relationships is -"
"Kitt! Enough! This doesn't involve you. We're not discussing it."
"I beg to differ, Michael. This time it does involve me."
Michael knew he couldn't argue that point. He knew he hadn't exactly been the poster boy for monogamy lately, but he didn't want to try to explain to Kitt why he didn't take relationships more seriously. And he didn't even want to promise that he was going to be more committed to this one. He was, but he didn't feel he should have to justify himself. "I don't suppose there's anything I could say that would convince you to leave it alone for now is there?"
"Michael, why Bonnie?" Kitt asked in tone that was something between plaintive and hopeless.
"Because I like her, pal. It's pretty simple."
"No, it's not simple. What's going to happen when the next blonde comes along?"
"Kitt!"
"I'm simply pointing out that your pattern of behavior does not lend itself well to a work place romance."
Michael sighed. "And when did you become an expert?"
"I've done research."
"When?"
"Well, if you must know, I started doing research on the topic when you first started asking her out. But I had plenty of time to brush up on the latest studies last night. For example, did you know that 63 of -"
"Kitt! Can it!" He took a slow, deep breath. "Look, we're both adults, okay?"
"I'm aware of that. It's just that Bonnie's important to me. You both are. And I don't want to be caught in the middle if your budding relationship doesn't end well."
"Kitt, all I can say is that I'll try not to let that happen. Bonnie's important to me too. And I wouldn't intentionally do anything to hurt her, okay?"
There was a long, begrudging pause before Kitt finally said, "I guess that's all I can ask, Michael. It just would have been easier if you'd stuck to the random women you meet in bars."
"You don't get to pick who you fall in love with."
"Really? You've fallen in love with Bonnie?"
"Kitt!" Damn his partner could be annoying. "Let's just say I have feelings for her, and leave it at that, okay?"
"I don't think I'll ever understand human romantic relationships," he said, almost ruefully. The bars on his voice modulator faded out completely before he continued. "And I think I'm going to have to have a talk with Bonnie about her taste in men."
Michael laughed, relieved that the tension was broken. It would have been a very long trip otherwise. "I think she has great taste in men."
"Hmph. I happen to know there are at least two technicians who've asked about her. Very nice, upstanding men. But apparently she wasn't interested."
"I'm upstanding," he protested. "So who are these mystery men?"
"I'm not telling you, Michael. It was information that was passed to me in the strictest confidence."
"Come on, I'm your partner. Anyone I need to be worried about?"
"As I said, apparently she wasn't interested."
Michael smiled to himself as they merged into traffic on the highway. "Good to know."
- - -
(To Be Continued)