AN: Hi, I'm Nikki. I adopted Anam Cara!

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING...technically not even the plot...because I didn't come up with the idea.

Dedicated to Shadowblade-tara for letting me adopt the series.

Note: I am not Shadowblade-tara or telapathic, so I do not know where the series was intended to go. My writing style is different. I can not claim credit for the title or idea though.

"Which way did he go?"

"He left the building, Michael."

Explosions rocked the building, sending debris down on Michael.

Kitt had parked right next to the building. An explosion rocked him, nearly flipping him.

"Mich--" Kitt's communications with Michael's comm. link cut off.

Michael ducked into a room and took shelter. He blacked out.

"What is the case, Devon?" Kitt asked.

"Adam Coltrane, a smuggler. He deals in weapons, explosives and technology. We believe that he is not only after Kitt, but the blueprints and program fragments from Karr." Devon said.

Across the city, three men were meeting for the first time.

"So, we have a deal?"

"Yes."

"Agreed."

John Clay, Adam Coltrane, and Zerek Ur were gathered around a shipping crate doubling as a table. Clay, a promising FBI agent, had to keep reminding himself why he was here. If everything went according to plan, he'd be rich.

Michael set out to pick up some groceries that the kitchen staff had asked for.

Kitt had offered to drive the cook to the store in an attempt to get Michael to stay home and rest, but she declined.

"Michael, the man behind you has a gun, and it's aimed at your back!"

Michael calmly finished paying for the groceries, and then walked outside. The man followed.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Me? No. My employer? Yes."

The man aimed the gun at Michael's head. A shot rang out. The man dropped the gun, swearing. There was a bullet hole in his shoulder. He ran away.

"Thank you."
"No problem."

"Michael Knight."

"Nick."

'Nick' got into his car and drove off.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FAILED?!" Coltrane was screaming at Zerek. John had left him in charge while he went back to work. He had too much riding on the plan to get caught. John had gotten the FBI to stall Michael's investigation, which meant Michael would get desperate soon.

Michael had left the mansion again: the FBI was swarming the place. It had annoyed him and Devon, and it had infuriated Bonnie. They were hindering progress on both the case and updates to Kitt. Kitt and Michael had gone to the beach, Kitt parked on the sand, and Michael took a walk down the beach. Kitt's scanner picked up an armed man approaching Michael from the parking lot. He didn't have time to get Michael a warning that he could react to, so he shot down the beach, sending up waves of sand, positioning himself between Michael and the gunman. Bullets sprayed Kitt, pinging dangerously off the MBS. Michael scrambled in the passenger door and across the seat into the driver's seat. Devon called relaying an anonymous tip. Coltrane had come out of hiding and he had a deal going down at an abandoned warehouse. Kitt took off for the address, the gunman still shooting at them.

Michael woke up, surprisingly able to move, but he was disoriented and in pain.

"Kitt?"

The comm. link remained silent.

"Kitt?!"

Coltrane had escaped the blast and saw Michael fight his way through the rubble.

"Michael!" Kitt had lost his reading on Michael's vital signs. Bonnie had checked and triple checked everything, nothing was wrong.

"Maybe the damage is on his end." Bonnie suggested.

Devon reported that search teams had found no sign of Michael being alive or having escaped the building. Michael was dead.

"No. He is not."

"Kitt be reasonable!"

"Devon, Michael is not dead!"

Bonnie looked ready to cry.

"Kitt, it's been a month with no reading from the comm. link, I think he is." Bonnie's voice was thick with unshed tears. She blinked and the tears fell. Kitt wished that he could cry with her. His driver was dead.

FLAG had begun looking for a replacement driver. Kitt had not spoken to any of the previous applicants, so why should this one be any different?

"Don't press that."

"Why?"

"Because it might cause an accident."

The man's name was John Clay, a FBI agent. Kitt didn't like him. He was Kitt's new driver.

Michael wandered around the city for a while, before hitching a ride out towards FLAG headquarters, before having to run from Coltrane's goons. He awoke to the jolting of the truck hitting a pothole. He fell from the bed of the truck, landing on his arm. Nothing felt broken, but he wasn't sure. He made his way to a diner surrounded by apartments where he met Jay, his landlord.

A month later Jay was kicking him out. As he walked away he heard a familiar engine rev. He looked. Kitt was parked in the diner parking lot! He mouthed the cherished name.

Kitt?

AN: I do not own Nick. He belongs to Macx. Yes... he is Nick MacKenzie.