Playing God

by vega2

Did Wilton Knight have the right to destroy Michael Long to create Michael Knight?

Knight Rider Characters: Copyright Glen A Larson and Universal Studios

The Roads Not Taken: Robert Frost

PLAYING GOD

By Vega

Dr. Brenda Summerfield slowly closed the file on her lap and looked up.  "What gave you the right to play God?" She asked, her voice quivering with anger.

Devon sat back in his chair.  "Dr. Summerfield, you must understand…"

"I only understand what I read here Mr. Miles.  You robbed a man of his past.  You took away everything that was his.  And, you did it arbitrarily.  Did you ever, for a moment, think about what you were doing?"

Devon sat forward. "How dare you sit there and judge me, judge Wilton Knight.  You have no idea what has happened over the past six years.  That file tells you nothing about the man he has become."

"No.  No it doesn't.  But it tells me how a callous, misguided millionaire and his aide destroyed a man's life." 

Devon stood up slowly, "I think you should leave now Dr. Summerfield."

"Very well."  She stood up, tucking the file under her arm.  "But this is not the end.  I plan to press charges if Mr. Knight dies."

Devon dropped back down in his chair as he saw the door close. "Dear God," he whispered. How had they gotten to this point?  Was she right?  Had he and Wilton played God with Michael's life?  He knew Michael was comfortable in his new identity now, even cherished it at times. But at what cost? 

He stared at the closed door. Dr. Brenda Summerfield was a young zealot, the most dangerous kind of crusader.  Young and hungry to climb to the top, she didn't care who she crushed on her way to victory.  On staff at St. Andrews when Michael was brought in, she volunteered to assist Dr. Howard on Michael's case. What better way to make a name for herself than to bring down a giant like The Foundation For Law and Government?

He looked at the clock on his desk.  Almost ten A.M.  How many weeks had it been?  Four weeks tomorrow since he had received the devastating call from K.I.T.T.   Michael had been injured, severely.  And now he lay in a coma.

He ran his hand through his thick, white hair.  What if..?  What if Dr. Summerfield was right?  What if he had never met the eccentric millionaire, Wilton Knight, all those long years ago?  What if K.I.T.T. had never been developed?  How many lives would have been lost in all the years since, if Michael had not been found near death in the Nevada desert?  What if…?

The office door opened and Bonnie stepped in.  "Is she gone?"

Devon nodded.

"Who the hell does she think she is?  She's not even Michael's doctor."

"She is a highly regarded doctor in her field.   Bonnie, I'm afraid she is the one person who could destroy all we have worked for.  She could close down FLAG, and God forbid, if Michael dies, we could all be held culpable."

She sat down in the chair vacated by the doctor just moments ago.  "How did she get so much information?  How did she get Michael's files in the first place? No one has ever had access to them before."

"I know. Somehow she convinced a circuit judge that she needed his complete history."

"Couldn't you have our lawyers block the order?"

"They tried.  It was either handing over the files, or face contempt of court.  But, I did manage to give her a condensed version.  They pertain only to Michael."

"K.I.T.T.?"

"He is only mentioned briefly.  But she still knows more than she should."

"Jennifer?"

"If I were a betting man, which I am not, I would put everything I own on her. Jennifer Knight would love to ride on the coattails of a woman like Dr. Summerfield.  She simply has to feed her information and sit back and watch the sparks fly.  Yes my dear, I think she is behind this.  But it may be hard to prove."

"That may explain this then."  Bonnie walked over to the computer station and typed in a series of commands.  "This," she said, as Devon joined her, "is from K.I.T.T.'s surveillance tapes."  It showed the Herbert Building, a three- story office complex.  As the camera panned closer, they could see Michael standing in front of an open sliding glass door on the third floor.  He appeared to be having a heated discussion with someone.

"Is there audio?" Devon asked.

"It's garbled.  K.I.T.T.'s still working on it."

"Why would it be garbled?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Some kind of interference.  Lead probably. Just another piece of the puzzle.  But here, look at this."  She froze the image and zoomed in on Michael's face.  "Look at Michael's expression."

Bonnie zoomed in a little closer.  Devon looked at Michael's eyes, his expression.  "He looks dazed."

Bonnie nodded.  "Now look at the rest of the tape."

Devon watched as Michael backed out onto the balcony through the open sliding glass door.  He raised his arms before his face as if to ward off blows before toppling backwards off the balcony.

"Dear God." Devon watched as Bonnie reversed the tape and played it again.  "He was forced off."

"He was being attacked. He was defending himself when he went over."

"I want a complete report on Michael's activities before the accident. I want to know why he was at that building in the first place."

 "K.I.T.T. and I are going over to the hospital for a while.  It helps K.I.T.T. to be close to Michael."

"You go ahead, I'll visit him this evening."

Devon watched Bonnie close the door behind her and walked back to the computer station.  He replayed K.I.T.T.'s video, pausing it at the close up of Michael's eyes.  That look in his eyes haunted him.  What kind of terror was Michael facing? 

Bonnie spent an hour sitting next to Michael's bed, as she had every day for the past four weeks.  He hadn't moved, hadn't shown any signs of life in all that time.  Monitors recorded his heartbeat and pulse, I.V. lines infused his body with fluids, oxygen flowed through a nasal tube, all designed to keep his body healthy while his consciousness mind hibernated. She squeezed his hand gently, noticing untanned band around his wrist where he wore his watch.  The nurse had given it to her on the day he was brought in, along with the rest of his personal effects.

"Michael, if you can here me, we're all waiting for you.  K.I.T.T.'s downstairs in the parking lot.  He misses you terribly.  We all do. We all want you back with us."

"Some doctors believe that a comatose patient can hear." Bonnie turned around to see Dr. Summerfield walk into the room. She noticed the white doctor's coat and stethoscope hanging around her neck. " Personally, I don't prescribe to that theory."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see my patient."

"Michael's not your patient." Bonnie stood up slowly, she felt the urge to protect Michael form this woman. "He's Dr. Howard's patient." 

"Dr. Howard was called out of town unexpectedly.  He's my patient now."

"Who gave you permission?"

"I don't need permission Ms. Barstow.  I am a credited member of the staff here at St. Andrews. If you want another doctor to take over his case, you are welcome to have him transferred to another hospital.  But that would probably not be wise considering his condition."

Bonnie fought back her anger.  "We'll see about that.  But," Bonnie stood an inch away from Dr. Summerfield's face, "if anything happens to Michael while he's under your care…"

"Tread lightly." The doctor warned.  "Oh, and by the way Ms. Barstow, considering Mr. Knight's condition, I'm considering restricting visiting hours.  Good day."

Bonnie hurried back down to the parking lot and dropped into K.I.T.T.  "Get Devon." She snapped.  "That woman is not going to get away with this."

K.I.T.T. sat in the Foundation's garage. While Bonnie and Devon slept, he had been reviewing all the tapes he had of Michael in the weeks leading up to the accident.

Bonnie poked her head in the window, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.  She hadn't slept well in the past weeks and the strain was showing on her face.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary."  K.I.T.T. said. 

"There's got to be something.  I just feel so helpless K.I.T.T.  I want to do something for him, but there's nothing I can do."

"I know Bonnie.  I feel the same way. And I am becoming quite concerned.  There is no reason Michael should not have regained consciousness weeks ago.  It's as if…" K.I.T.T. was suddenly silent.

"K.I.T.T.. Are you alright?"

"Bonnie, look at this."

Bonnie looked at the left monitor.  She saw Michael walking toward the Herbert Building, accidentally bumping into a man who was rushing past him. 

"Look at Michael's vital signs at the moment he was bumped."  The right monitor flipped on with a graphic of Michael's vital signs.  "There is a spike in his heartbeat and respiration I did not notice at first, but it looks as if he experienced a sharp pain at that precise moment." 

Bonnie opened the door and sat down.

"Keep watching." K.I.T.T. said. 

She watched as Michael walked up the stairs. He looked slightly off balance. "Was he drugged?"  She watched the door close behind him.

"It's possible Bonnie." 

"Do we know yet who he was talking to?"

"No.  I'm still working on cleaning up the sound.  Do you want to hear what I have so far?"

Bonnie nodded.

"It's not much, only a few words.  So far I have been able to clean up Michael's voice only.   The person in the room will be more difficult."

"I understand K.I.T.T., just let me hear what you've got."

Bonnie listened intently to the few words that stood out in the garbled sentence.  "You won't get away…  they'll know… K.I.T.T.!"

"That's all you have?"

"So far."

"What was he doing there in the first place?"

K.I.T.T. remained unusually quite for a long time.  "Because," he said at last, "Devon sent him there."

Bonnie suddenly felt dizzy.  "Are you sure K.I.T.T.?"

"Yes Bonnie.  I did a voice analysis.  It was Devon."

"I don't understand this.  He said he didn't know why Michael was there.  Why would he lie?"

"I don't know Bonnie."

"K.I.T.T., I want a complete report on what Michael was working on at the time of the accident.  Everything.  I don't care how small it is.  Something isn't right here."

"You don't think Devon is involved, do you?"

"I don't know anymore K.I.T.T." She said.  She felt as if the whole world was crashing in on her.  She couldn't believe that Devon would do anything to harm Michael.  But he had lied.

"What do we do next?"

"We get help.  Can you give me a secure phone line, one that even Devon couldn't trace?"

"Yes but…"

"K.I.T.T., we're on our own now.  We can't trust anyone."

"Not even Devon?"

"Not even Devon.  Not until we know why he sent Michael to that office building."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Dan Chapman."

It was one O'clock in the afternoon and Dan Chapman was still pouring over a sheath of documents.  Another divorce trial.  He said, she said.  He did, she did.  He hated divorce cases but they paid the bills. Not a lot of money, but it was steady work.  He did the dirty work for the lawyers.  Snapping clandestine photos of wandering spouses, digging up sordid pasts.  More often than not it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He didn't pay attention to the phone ringing until Darlene said, "It's Bonnie Barstow."

"Bonnie?"  He picked up the receiver, not sure quite what to say.  He had formed a solid friendship with Michael Knight, but he always felt that Bonnie was not completely sure of him.  So why would she be calling and not Michael?

"Bonnie?"

"Dan, I need to see you, right away."  Her voice sounded tense. 

"At the Foundation?"

"No," she snapped.  "No one from the Foundation can know that we have talked.  No one, not even Devon."

"Can you tell me what it's about?"

"Not over the phone.  Meet me in an hour at 17 Hanover Drive, room 17.  K.I.T.T. made reservations.  And Dan, don't let anyone see you."

"What's going on Bonnie?"

"I can't talk now.  Michael's in trouble."

"I'll be there."  Dan replaced the receiver and looked over at Darlene.  "Why would she keep Devon out of the loop?"

417 Hanover Drive was a modest motel on the outskirts of town.  He looked around the parking lot but didn't see K.I.T.T.  He made his way to the forth floor and room 417.  After two light taps on the door the lock clicked and Bonnie Barstow stood in the entrance.

"Thank you for coming." She said pulling him into the room.  "Did any one see you?"

"No.  I used Darlene's car and drove five miles out of my way to get here."

"Good.  I left K.I.T.T. and my car at the Foundation and rented a car under a fictitious name."

"Bonnie, what the hell is going on?"

She closed the door.  "To tell you the truth Dan, I'm not sure myself."  She sat down on one of the guest chairs facing the twin- sized bed.  The room had seen better days.  The carpeting was threadbare, the wallpaper was stripped in some places.  Not the type of place he expected to see Bonnie Barstow.  He sat down on the corner of the bed and waited.

"Michael is in a coma." She said flatly.  "He has been for the past four weeks."

"My God, what happened?"

"I don't know."  She shook her head, lost. She was so close to breaking down. She fought back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.  "That's why I called you."

Dan found a glass in the bathroom, cleaned it and filled it with water.  "Here," he said gently.  He waited for her to regain her composure.

 "Tell me what happened."  He said softly.

"I'm still not sure."

"Start at the beginning."

Bonnie took a deep breath.  "That's hard to say exactly."  She remembered back to the conversation they had had nearly four weeks ago.  It seemed like a lifetime had passed since.

She was sitting at the computer console in the Foundation's garage.  She had just completed an upgrade to K.I.T.T.'s systems when Devon walked in.  He seemed, in retrospect, to be quite nervous.  Michael followed within a minute and they had a heated discussion by the door.  She tried to hear what they were saying, but they spoke in whispers. Michael stormed off and Devon left a moment later.

"Do they have arguments like that often?" Dan asked.

"They have their disagreements.  They're both stubborn and bullheaded."  She shook her head.  "But this was different."

"Then what?"

"Nothing really.  Michael came back a couple hours later to get K.I.T.T.  He said Devon had given him another shity assignment, his words not mine, and he took off."

"And?"

The tears welled up again.  "That was the last time I saw him conscious."

"What happened?"

Bonnie hefted a metal suitcase onto the bed and opened it, revealing a video cassette player with a small monitor attached. "This is what K.I.T.T. saw that day." She said inserting a tape.

Dan watched Michael walk toward the office building, accidentally bumped by a man crossing his path. Unfazed he walked up the stairs and disappeared into the lobby

Dan looked up at her, lost.

"Look how he's waking now."  She pointed to the screen as Michael appeared to sway as he walked up the stairs.  "See how unsteady he looks."

"Was he drugged?"

The next part of the tape showed Michael standing in front of an open sliding glass door, leading onto the small balcony.  He seemed to be in a heated argument with someone in the room.  Suddenly he raised his hands, as if he were warding off a blow and backed out the door.  He continued backing up, warding off invisible blows until he was backed up against the balcony railing.

"No." Dan breathed as he saw Michael topple over the railing.

Silence filled the room.  Bonnie slowly ejected the tape and closed the suitcase.

"He's been in a coma ever since."  She said.  "His doctor, Dr. Howard, could not explain the coma.  He found no obvious head trauma. Except for a mild concussion, broken leg and sprained wrist, he seemed to have survived the fall without major injuries.  What the video doesn't show, is the ornamental cherry trees that line the perimeter of the building.  They broke his fall."

"Who was he going to see?"

"I asked K.I.T.T.  He said Devon sent him."

"And?"  Dan saw the confusion in Bonnie's eyes.

"Dan, Devon says he doesn't know why Michael went to the Herbert building, but I have a recording of him giving Michael instructions to go there.  K.I.T.T. authenticated his voice."

"K.I.T.T.'s positive?"

"Yes.  K.I.T.T. doesn't make mistakes when it comes to things like this.  And now," Bonnie took a deep breath, "his doctor, Dr. Howard, has been called away unexpectedly."

"Who's taking care of him now?"

"Dr. Summerfield.  I wouldn't trust her to treat a hangnail. There's something about her.  It's wrong.  It's all wrong."

"What about Dr. Howard?"

"No one seems to know where he is.  Dan, Dr. Summerfield seems to be on a personal crusade to destroy Devon and the Foundation through Michael.  Devon is lost.  He's beginning to believe all her wild theories. But as sorry as I feel for him, I can't get past the lie.  I can't trust him. Dan, I need your help.  I don't know where else to turn. Michael trusts you.  He said if I ever needed someone and he wasn't around," she reached out and touched his knee, "I should call you."

He grabbed her trembling hands. "Michael was right.  I will do anything I can for you."

Bonnie's tears began to flow freely now.  She at last had someone she could trust again.

He gently pulled her over to the edge of the bed and cradled her against his shoulder.  He held her for a long time, letting her cry it out.

"Is there anyway K.I.T.T. and I can link up?" He finally asked.

Bonnie nodded, wiping away the tears.   "I have a shake down scheduled for K.I.T.T tomorrow at three O'clock.  I was going to cancel it, considering all that was going on."

Dan smiled.  "Keep it." He said, squeezing her hands.  "We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

Devon leaned back in the visitor's chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.  A fierce headache was broiling.  He watched Michael sleeping, studying the monitors that kept track of his vital signs.  He had seen the same type monitors six years ago.  Memories flooded his mind and he closed his eyes.

Devon had been with Wilton Knight when he heard the devastating news.  Michael Long had been shot.  Wilton had been following him for months.  He had to be certain the man he was picking to helm the most sophisticated, computerized car in the world, was the right man. And the findings were in.  Long appeared to be the man he was looking for.  A background in law enforcement and military training, who was not afraid to make decisions on his own.  It was decided he would approach Long very soon, offer him an opportunity of a lifetime.  But all that was changed by a single gunshot to the face.

Wilton's men had been instructed to observe, not hinder Michael's activates.  Observe only. Wilton wanted to know what Michael was made of, how he would react in every situation.  So they had no idea that Tanya Walker was working on her own agenda when she jumped into Michael's Trans Am chasing Wilson into the desert.  By the time they reached Michael, he was laying face down in the sand, the headlights of his car shining in the pool of blood seeping into the sand around his head.

Wilton had left immediately in a helicopter with a team of doctors and returned two hours later.  Devon watched as they wheeled Michael into surgery, bloody bandages covering his obliterated face. He watched Wilton standing by his side, day after day, his own health deteriorating.  There was not much time left and Michael was Wilton's last hope of seeing FLAG to fruition before he died.

And now again, Devon waited.  He reached out and took Michael's hand in his. It felt so frail.  So much like the hand he had held six years ago.  It had taken three weeks back then for Michael to regain consciousness from the gunshot injury, and another four weeks before the bandages were removed.  Was that the time that Wilton made his decision?  The original plans did not call for reconstructive surgery, but when Michael's injuries required it, was that the time Wilton decided to make him over in his own image?  Was it an unconsciousness act on his part to bring back Garthe, the son who had betrayed him?  Or was it, as he had said, a way to keep Michael safe from enemies who would stop short at nothing to kill him?

He would probably never know the answer.  Wilton was dead.  Michael had accepted his new identity and flourished far beyond anything Wilton could have ever expected.  K.I.T.T. had grown in leaps and bounds, rising from a mere computer to a sentient being.  Michael was now a part of a unique family that transcended anything Wilton could have ever envisioned in a lifetime.

He leaned down close to Michael's ear and whispered, "Keep fighting my boy, keep fighting."

He heard the door open and close behind him.

"He can't hear you, you know."

Devon stood up slowly, turning toward the voice.  "Dr. Summerfield." He said coldly.

"Mr. Miles.  Feeling a little guilty?  It was you, after all, who ultimately put him here.  If he were still Michael Long he would probably be home with his wife and family right now."

"If, Dr. Summerfield, we had never met Michael he would have been dead a long time ago.  He was near death when we found him.  So all your rhetoric about what his life would have been like if we hadn't..."

"You could have saved his life," Summerfield interrupted,  "used your state of the art plastic surgery to rebuild his face as it was before the bullet tore it apart. But, you and Wilton Knight were afraid.  Afraid if he was given a chance to return to a normal life he would take it.  Instead you robbed him of everything.  His face. His name.  You even destroyed any chance for him to return home.  Ultimately he became a prisoner to your crusade.  You played God Mr. Miles."

"He could have walked away at any time."

"Could he?  Where could he go?  Back home?  That didn't exist for him anymore.  His family had already buried Michael Long.  How could he start over?  He was suddenly a man without a past.  Who would hire him?  The best thing he could hope for was flipping burgers at some bar and grill."

Devon took a menacing step closer to Summerfield.  "You are treading on dangerous ground doctor." He warned.  "You may think you know everything there is to know about Michael Knight, but you know nothing."  He glanced back at Michael. "I don't know how you got Dr. Howard off Michael's case but I will find out.  And, if anything happens to him while he is under your care…"

Summerfield sneered, "You and Ms. Barstow comparing notes?  She said the same thing."

"It's not a warning doctor.  It's a promise."

Lowering the lights, he did something he rarely did, he poured himself a tall glass of Scotch. He lit the fireplace and sank into an overstuffed chair and wondered.

Devon returned to the Foundation, crushed. Lowering the lights, he did something he rarely did; he poured himself a tall glass of Scotch. He lit the fireplace and sank into an overstuffed chair and wondered.  Was Dr. Summerfield right?  Had they played God with Michael's life?  Wilton was so anxious to see his dream fulfilled, so afraid that he would die before it became a reality, that he forged ahead, not thinking of the consequences.  Not taking time to wonder what it would do to Michael.  As much as he hated to admit it, Dr. Summerfield was right about one thing.  They could have easily restructured Michael's face to look as it did before the bullet obliterated it.  Was she right?  Would they have lost him if he could have gone back to his old life, back to his home and family?  They would never know now.  The Roads Not Taken, he thought bitterly.  But was it the right one?

In his lifetime he had experienced both the good and the bad.  He had survived the bad and relished the good.  But he had always done it alone.  Even when Wilton Knight was alive, he had kept his distance.  Both men had been through too much to let their guard down, and when Wilton had died, although he had mourned his passing, Devon had regrouped and carried on.  But Michael Knight, alias Michael Long, had dropped into his life and all the equations had changed.  Wilton Knight, on his deathbed had charged him with the responsibility of overseeing Michael's transition from Michael Long, Las Vegas cop, to Michael Knight agent for FLAG.  He accepted the responsibility reluctantly at first.  Michael Long was a headstrong young man, and they had butted heads on more than one occasion.  But without Devon being aware of it, Michael Knight had somehow slipped past his emotional guard, had become the true friend his soul longed for.  More than a friend, he was the son he wished he had had.  And now he lay in a coma. 

Bonnie walked into Devon's office. Surprised to find the lights turned down and the fireplace roaring, sending shadows dancing across the office walls.

"Devon?"

"Join me my dear?"  Devon raised his glass of Scotch.

Bonnie nodded and poured a small glass of Scotch, then pulled a chair closer to him.  "Are you alright?  This isn't like you."

He looked at her.  There was a sadness in his face that she had never seen before.

"I just came from the hospital.  Seeing Michael lying there…  Bonnie," he looked into the fire, "could Dr. Summerfield be right?  Did we play God with Michael's life?  Did we make him a prisoner of a destiny that was not his own?"

Bonnie didn't know what to say, how to console him.  Six years ago, when K.I.T.T. was finally ready, when all that was needed was a driver, she had balked at the choice of Michael Long.  He was arrogant, opinionated and headstrong.  He treated K.I.T.T. without respect and the rest of the team with indifference.  He was angry, and rightfully so.  But his hatred for Tanya Walker had kept him going.  When he had promised Wilton on his deathbed that he would carry on his legacy, he did so not knowing if he could keep that promise.  And after Tanya was dead, when there was nothing left to keep him there, he stayed.  Wilton's dream of one man making a difference was too important to walk away from.  Thinking back on those early days, she could never have known that she would grow to love him.  That he would become the most important person in her life.

"Devon," She leaned forward taking his hand in hers.  "Michael stayed because he wanted to.  Nothing you, or I, or even Wilton Knight could say would have made him stay if he didn't want to.  He may have been thrown into this life without his consent but he made it his.  Michael Long doesn't exist anymore.  He died out there in the desert, one way or the other.  If Michael had the ability to go back in time and change that moment do you think he would?  Would he give up everything he has here for an uncertain future as Michael Long?"

Devon turned toward her, his eyes filled with tears.  "I love him like a son Bonnie.  The thought of not having him here with us is unthinkable."

"I feel the same way."  She raised her glass to him.  "To Michael then."

"To Michael."

 They sat in silence watching the fire. 

Early the next morning Bonnie was back in Michael's room, sitting and thinking. 

"Michael, I wish you could hear me." She said softly, " I'm so confused.  I can't believe Devon is involved in this. Not after last night.  He is falling apart in front of my eyes and I don't know what to do. I wish you could tell me what you were doing at the Herbert Building.  Who you met.  Michael, the answers are right here," she said, leaning over him and gently kissing his forehead, "locked away.  Please come back to us. I need you so badly."  She sat back down.  Even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her, it still helped to talk to him. "I talked to a friend of yours yesterday.  Dan.  He's going to help us.  You always said if I needed someone…  Damn it Michael, this isn't fair.  You're the strong one.  I need you.  K.I.T.T. needs you."  She wiped at the tears that ran down her cheek, "I better go.  I'm meeting Dan this afternoon.  But I'll be back tomorrow." 

It was three ten in the afternoon and Dan waited on the turn out lane off Route 16.  He heard the whine of K.I.T.T.'s turbine engine before he saw the sleek, black car emerge out of a hairpin turn.

The car pulled up next to him and the passenger door opened automatically. 

"It's good to see you again Dan."  K.I.T.T. said as Dan slipped into the plush bucket seat.

"It's good to see you too."  Dan was always amazed when he saw K.I.T.T.'s interior.  He could never learn all the buttons and switches in a lifetime.

The car pulled back onto the road and Bonnie took her hands off the wheel.  "Thank you for coming."

"Any change?"

"Not as of this morning. Dan, I spoke to Devon last night.  I don't believe he sent Michael to the Herbert Building."

"K.I.T.T. heard him.  How do you explain that?"

"I don't know.  It's just that, you didn't see him last night.  The man is devastated.  Dr. Summerfield has him convinced that this is all his fault."

"How?"

"She has threatened to press charges against him if Michael dies.  She claims Devon and Wilton Knight robbed him of his identity when they resurrected him as Michael Knight."

"She has a point."  Dan said.

"What?"

"I don't think anyone could press criminal charges against him or Wilton Knight, but they did destroy a life."

"Tanya Walker killed Michael Long!"

Dan nodded, "Maybe, but… Look, I don't know what happened six years ago.  I only know Michael as Michael Knight.  But when he told me that story while Carter held us captive, I couldn't believe it.  But you know what?  He said if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.  He's happy being Michael Knight now.  And nothing Dr. Summerfield says…"  

"May I interject?"  K.I.T.T. cleared his voice rather officiously.

Bonnie looked at the voice box, the somber mood broken, a smile tugged at her lips.  "Yes K.I.T.T.?"

"I have come up with some very interesting facts about Dr. Summerfield."

"What have you got K.I.T.T.?" Dan asked.

A picture of a young woman, college age, appeared on the left monitor.

"This is the only picture I could find of Dr. Summerfield.  It was taken during her junior year at Yale.  This," a second picture appeared on the right monitor, "of course, is the Dr. Summerfield we know."

"Either she's aged more gracefully than any woman I've ever known, or we're dealing with an imposter." Dan said.

"I calculated what the real Dr. Summerfield might look like now, twenty years later.  Also taking into consideration the current hairstyles and makeup I came up with this composite of what I think Brenda Summerfield would look like today."

"Very nice K.I.T.T."  Bonnie compared the two pictures.  The real Dr. Summerfield was at least ten years older than the one they knew.  "How did she get away with it?  Didn't the hospital do a through background check before hiring her?"

"I'm sure they did Bonnie," K.I.T.T. replaced the old Summerfield picture with a job resume. 

Dan whistled.  "Our Dr. Summerfield, or who ever is backing her, did one hell of a job.  Look at this.  Social Security number, Medical License number, everything is perfect.  They even changed her graduation dates to correspond to her age.  The hospital would have no reason to question her credentials."

"What about the real Dr. Summerfield?" Bonnie asked.

"I checked the employee records at Holden Medical Center where she was on staff as a physiologist and general practitioner. She gave her official two-week notice.  She had signed up for a humanitarian expedition to Peru with several other doctors."

"Let me guess."  Bonnie said, "She never showed up for the expedition."

"I checked the expedition's records.  Just before they were ready to go, their financing fell through. They never went."

"And now the new Dr. Summerfield shows up at St. Andrews.  We've got to get Michael out of there." Dan said.

"How?"

"K.I.T.T., can you get me into the hospital, as say, a visiting doctor?

"Of course Dan, what would you like to be?

"Something that would give me access to Michael."

"Very well."

A picture of Dan appeared on the monitor with the name Alfred Lewis, M.D.

"I'm impressed.  Exactly what kind of medicine do I specialize in?"

"Brain surgery."

Bonnie couldn't help but snicker.

"You got a problem with me being a brain surgeon?"  Dan asked defensively.

"No," she laughed, "as long s you're not operating on my brain."

Dan stopped at the nurse's station, flashed his credentials and asked for Michael's chart.  He glanced through it as if it made sense and returned it to the nurse.  She directed him to Michael's room and now he stood looking down at him. His right leg was immobilized in a plaster cast and an ace bandage was wrapped tightly around his left wrist.  If not for the tubes and wires festooning his body he looked like he was simply sleeping. 

He took Michael's limp hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  "We're going to get you out of here." He promised.  He drew his comlink, the one Bonnie had given him the last time he and Michael were together and placed it around Michael's wrist.

 "K.I.T.T.?"

"I'm here Dan."

"I thought you might like a few minutes with Michael."

"Thank you."  There was deep emotion in K.I.T.T.'s voice. Dan would never understand how a computer could feel as K.I.T.T. did, but there was no denying that it existed.

"Dan!" K.I.T.T.'s voice sounded stunned.  "I am picking up fluctuations in Michael's heartbeat and blood pressure.  He is reacting to outside stimuli.  Dan, he can hear what you are saying."

"What?  Are you sure?"  Dan looked up at the monitors above Michael's bed.  They remained steady. "Are the monitors rigged?"

"Pinch his hand."

Dan pinched the skin on the back of Michael's hand.

"He felt that!  Dan, I don't understand how but Michael is aware.  He is not in a coma. Michael, Michael can you hear me?  He reacted Dan. The doctor's diagnosis..."

 "One doctor's diagnoses at least. Dr. Summerfield.  That's why they had to get rid of Howard."

"What are we going to do?"

"Nothing at the moment.  I can't get Michael out of here on my own.  Get Bonnie, tell her to meet me where we met yesterday in one hour.  We'll take it from there."

He removed the watch from Michael's wrist. "We're going to get you out of here, I promise."  He whispered into Michael's ear. 

He looked around the room, he had already stayed longer than he had planned, but first he needed a sample of the I.V. fluid that was trickling into Michael's veins.  He quickly took a syringe out of his pocket and extracted a small amount of the liquid.

He patted Michael on the shoulder.  "I'll be back. You just hang in there a little longer."

"Dan?  No!  Don't go!"  Michael screamed silently.  "Dan!"

Michael heard the door whoosh closed and he was left alone in the silent blackness.  It had been like that for what seemed like an eternity.  He was being held prisoner in a body that would not respond.  When he first awoke, he thought he was having a nightmare.  He couldn't move, he couldn't even open his eyes.  He cried out for someone to help him but no words came from his mouth.  Then sleep overtook him.  The second time he awoke to garbled voices.  He still couldn't move.  He strained to move, an arm, a leg, an eyelid, anything.  It was as if he were living inside a dead body.  But he could feel.  It was both a blessing and a curse.  It was a blessing when Bonnie would sit next to him, talking softly, holding his hand, and stroking his face.  He lived for those moments.  And Devon, he too sat beside him, holding his hand, urging him to keep fighting.  He cried soundlessly when they left, leaving him alone in the blackness again.  And he dreaded the endless visits by the nurses and doctors.  How could they not know that he was conscious?  He had to endure the indignities of being bathed daily like an infant.  They shaved his face, combed his hair, laughed and giggled as they redressed him in a fresh gown.

He wasn't sure how long it was before his mind cleared enough for him to remember what had happened.  He went over the moments of that day again and again.  Each time it became clearer, yet more confusing.   It was early afternoon, he remembered walking out of the grocery store…

"Michael, I took the liberty of scanning the contents of your grocery bag."  K.I.T.T. announced as Michael dropped into the customized black Trans Am, "and I am appalled. You have not purchased one item that is nutritionally sound."

"Come on Pal, give me a break," Michael grinned, "tonight is the night.  Game six of the playoffs.  If the Knicks win they are the champs.  Corn chips, salsa and beer are a requirement. Especially the beer."

"Michael, I fail to see the entertainment in ten men running up and down a hardwood surface bouncing a ball and trying to throw it through a small hoop.  It seems like a useless waste of time."

"K.I.T.T., basketball is the greatest sport in the world.  You've got action, intrigue, drama. Picture this: There's ninety seconds to go, its tied 103 to 103.  Do you go for that shot in a million or do you foul your opponent?"

"You would deliberately cause an illegal infraction?"

"Yea.  It's called strategy.  It's all part of the game.  Look, I plan to be sitting in front of my TV set tonight watching the game. If you want to watch it with me, you're welcome too. I'll even give you an insight to when I played the game."

"You played basketball?" 

"K.I.T.T., I was six foot four when I was a freshmen in high school.  Look, you watch the game with me tonight. Tomorrow I'll answer all your questions.  Deal?"

K.I.T.T. thought about it. Did he really want to spend four hours plus with Michael obsessed with a game that made no sense?  "Michael, I appreciate the offer but…" A communication was coming in from the Foundation. " Michael, Devon on the line."

"Yo Devon."  Michael waited for Devon's image to come on the monitor.  The number two screen flickered then died.

"Michael.  Please go..." Devon's transmission kept breaking up.

"K.I.T.T., can you clean up the signal?"

"I'm trying to correct it."

"Devon?  I can barely understand you." 

"Pick up documents at…" Devon's voice crackled with interference.  "Herbert Building, Suite D… John Haskell … important papers.  Hand carry. ……Foundation… Urgent…" Devon's voice dropped off.

"I lost him."  K.I.T.T. said, baffled.

"Get him back."

"I'm trying Michael.  There is some kind of interference between here and the Foundation, I can't raise him again."

"Alright," Michael sighed, "plot a course to the Herbert Building."  He glanced at the bag of groceries sitting on the passenger seat.  Something told him that the Knicks would have to play without him tonight. "And see what you can do about that static."

"Right away Michael."

The Herbert Building was a five -story office building, built back in the sixties when the price of land was still reasonable and buildings had the luxury of sprawling out rather than up.  Taking up nearly an acre of land in building alone, another acre ringed the complex with well-manicured lawns and walkways.  A small guest parking lot sat two hundred yards away from the main entrance. A curved stairway sat off to the side, leading up to the lobby on the second floor. The first floor was an enclosed parking garage for the tenants. 

"John Haskell, suite 3D.  Right Pal?"

"That's correct Michael."

"OK, I'll be back in a minute. Keep working on that interference."  Michael took off at a quick jaunt; he wanted this over with as soon as possible.  There was still a game to watch.  He didn't notice the well-dressed man with a coat slung over his arm until he bumped into him.  The man grabbed at his arm to keep his balance, his large signet ring scratching the back of Michael's hand.

"Sorry about that."  Michael apologized.

"Next time watch where you're going."  The guy snapped back and continued walking toward the parking lot.

"You have a nice day too."  Michael called after him.  He rubbed the back of his right hand. The jerk.

He hit the stairs and at the fourth step a wave of dizziness nearly made him lose his balance.  Startled, he held onto the wrought iron railing the rest of the way up.  Maybe K.I.T.T. was right.  His eating habits were pretty lousy lately, missed meals, meals on the go.

Inside the lobby was cool and dark.  He waited for his eyes to adjust from the bright sun outside.  The dizziness was gone but he still felt odd.  His body felt heavy, awkward.  He thought about skipping Haskell and just retuning to the car, but he was here now.  He took the elevator to the third floor and found suite D at the end of the plush green-carpeted hallway.

K.I.T.T. monitored Michael as he walked up the steps, concerned.  He noticed the spike in Michael's pulse and respiratory rate.  He followed him, electronically, into the lobby but lost him for a minute in the elevator.  His concern deepened when he picked him up again on the third floor.  His pulse was racing.  Then he lost him, completely.

Michael stepped into Suite D.  The office was immense.  One large mahogany desk dominated the room.  Floor to ceiling chocolate colored drapes covered most of the picture windows on either side of a sliding glass door that lead out onto a small balcony.   His shoes sank into deep brown carpeting.  The walls were painted in a light tan.  But there was something wrong with the whole picture.  He lifted his wrist to his mouth and whispered into the comlink, "K.I.T.T.?"  No answer.  Just static.  He took a step back towards the closed door behind him.  He realized what was missing.  The office was furnished but empty of anything personal.  The desk had a phone and a computer but nothing else.  The floor to ceiling bookcase behind it was empty.  There were no pictures on the walls, no plaques, no plants. Nothing but bare walls.

A mahogany door leading to a private office behind the desk opened and a tall blonde woman walked out, a large manila envelope in her hand. She was close to six feet tall, slender, in her late twenties with a mass of blonde hair pulled to one side of her head and secured with a gold band. She wore a dark navy blue pants suit with the emblem of a Falcon on the breast pocket.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice."  She smiled.  But there was no warmth in her smile.

Michael nodded at the envelope, "is that it?"  Something in his gut told him this was all wrong. He wanted out of there as soon as possible. Another wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice sounded far away.

"Yea." He looked around. The walls suddenly wavered. He took a deep breath trying to quench the fear that threatened to overtake him.  His legs felt weak. He could barely stand. "What's happening?"  He gasped, his words slurring. He couldn't think clearly.  Waves of nausea swept over him. He staggered back towards the door. He had to get out of there.  She slipped in behind him blocking his way, herding him toward the sliding glass door. She was in front of him now, smiling cruelly.  She ripped open the envelope.  He watched in disbelief as she pulled a black shape out of the package.  It sat in her cupped hands, moving, changing, taking form.  A shiny black head with a sharp black beak turned it's hungry eyes toward him.  Huge black wings emerged, long black talons that wrapped around the woman's hand, digging into her flesh.  Blood dripped through her fingers. It fluttered it's wings. He could feel the rush of air fan his face. A Falcon. A bird of prey. Just like the emblem on her jacket.  "What…?" He could barely form the words.

"A present for you and Devon Miles." A cruel smile turned her beautiful face ugly.

The room was closing in on him. He couldn't breathe. He felt the sweat dripping off his face, down his back.  He looked out the window.  K.I.T.T. was parked out there in the lot.  Why wasn't he trying to help?

"You won't get any help from him." The woman said coldly.  "There's a thin layer of lead beneath the paint. He can't receive your signal. You're all alone Michael."

The Falcon flapped it's wings in warning then attacked.  Michael threw his arms up to protect his face.  It landed on his arm, it's talons digging deep into his flesh.  He screamed out in pain and fear. Again and again it pecked at his arms, his hands.  It screeched in fury, trying to peck at his eyes. He was driven backwards.  The woman walked behind him reaching for the sliding glass door, making sure that she was not seen from the outside.  The bird kept attacking.  He could feel blood running down his arms.  He stepped back feeling the hard concrete of the balcony under his feet. 

He tried to think.  This wasn't real.  If he closed his eyes it would all disappear.  But he couldn't.  He couldn't take his eyes off the Falcon as it soared into the sky and then swooped down on him.  He felt the iron railing.  He leaned backwards….

He remembered the moment of shock when he realized he was falling.  He never felt himself hit the ground.  But the consequences were undeniable.  He agonized at the thought that this was a permanent condition. 

He yearned for a familiar voice, something to invade the blackness.  He knew it was nighttime.  He could tell by the sounds outside his room. The door opened and closed.

"Did you have a nice reunion with your friend?" It was Dr. Summerfield.  Her voice sounded different, cruel.  He knew that voice, he had head it before.

"If you think they can save you, you're a fool."  It was her, the woman he met at Haskell's office.  "Your death will bring about an end to FLAG forever.  Devon Miles and all your friends will rot in jail for the rest of their lives."

Someone touched his foot.  There was someone else in the room.  He smelled perfume.  A scent he had smelled before.

"At last," a voice purred in his ear, "I have found Devon Miles' Achilles Heel.  You."

Stunned, Michael realized who the second voice belonged to:  Jennifer Knight.

"The Foundation will crumble like a house of cards.  All because I found Devon's weak spot.  How appropriate that you, Michael Knight, should be the means to the demise of FLAG."

He felt Jennifer combed her fingers through his hair.  "Your nightmare is about to end Michael. Brenda, explain to him exactly what he has to look forward to."

He felt someone lift his wrist and a burning sensation coursed through his hand.

"I have just injected a rare drug into your I.V. that will ultimately cause cardiac arrest. In a few hours you will begin to feel your heart beating slower.  It will become more difficult for you to breathe.  By this time tomorrow your heart will simply give out."

"Poof."  Jennifer snapped her finger next to his ear. "Your are out of my life forever.  And so will Devon and FLAG.  And K.I.T.T.?"  She laughed cruelly, "K.I.T.T. will be dismantled, piece by piece."

He felt her running her finger along his cheekbone.

"It's ironic isn't it, that your last few weeks on this earth have been spent exactly the same way Garthe's have for the past three years?  He's been in a coma you know.  He can't hear or feel as you have, but when Brenda said she could add a little extra pizzazz to your last days, I couldn't resist it.  "

Michael listened.  The intensity of what she was saying left him stunned.  In the blackness that surrounded him, he felt more alone than he had ever been before in his life.  He couldn't believe that Jennifer was using him to destroy the Foundation. 

He heard the two women walk toward the door.  "And by the way," Summerfield assured him, "don't worry about the doctor's discovering the drug.  It is colorless, odorless and would never be found unless they were looking for it.  And they would have no reason to.  I surely won't tell them."

The door opened and closed and he was again left in the lonely darkness listening to the beat of his heart.

Dan met Bonnie at the turnout on Route 16 an hour later.

 "K.I.T.T., can you analyze this?" He asked as he dropped into the car.

"Yes.  Right away."

"What is it?"  Bonnie asked taking the syringe and placing it in the analyzing tray.

"It's from Michael's I.V.  I want to know exactly what's in it. Bonnie, I asked K.I.T.T. not to mention this until I could tell you myself."

Bonnie braced herself for the worst.

"Michael is not in a coma."

"What?" She looked at him stunned.

"He can hear and feel everything."

"I don't understand."

"This may explain it."  K.I.T.T. said, "beside the normal saline and nutrients you would expect to find, there is also a large amount of a drug used to simulate paralysis."

"My God.  You mean he's been lying there all this time, conscious of everything?"

"Yes.  It is an obscure drug derived from the stamen of a rare plant.  It is a banned substance here in the United States."

"Didn't the doctors do blood tests?"

"I'm sure they did Bonnie.  But this is not something that would show up in a regular blood test.  They were not looking for it, so they never found it."

"But, why?"

"Think of it Bonnie." Dan began. "What has happened?  You and K.I.T.T. have focused every waking moment on Michael.  You think of nothing else.  Devon is on the verge of a mental breakdown because he has been convinced he is responsible.  It's brilliant.  Whoever devised this plan figured a way to destroy the Foundation from the inside out."

"They even had me doubting Devon." Bonnie whispered.

Dan nodded.  "It was the perfect plan."

"Jennifer Knight."  She said coldly.  "It has to be her. Dr. Summerfield knew too much about the inner workings of the Foundation.  But I never thought..  Dan," she grabbed his hand, "we've got to get Michael out of there, now."

"We will.  First thing tomorrow morning."

"No. We have to get him now."  Her mind reeled at the thought of him lying there all this time, conscious.

"Bonnie, listen to me.  We can't just rush in there and carry him out.  We have to have a plan.  Do you trust me?"

She laid her head back against the seat, "yes."  She suddenly sat up,  "I have to tell Devon, he is…"

"We will, but not yet.  Let's not tip our hand.  If Jennifer Knight is behind this, she may be watching him like a hawk."  He squeezed her hand gently. "But first I have to see a doctor."

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

 

He climbed out of K.I.T.T. and patted the roof.  "This will all be over soon." He said to both of them.  "I promise."

 The hours seemed to drag by for Bonnie.  She couldn't go to the hospital.  If someone were watching, they would see a change in her pattern and become suspicious.  And she couldn't face Devon. She couldn't stand to see the pain in his eyes and not tell him the truth. Finally Dan called.  They would meet in the usual place off Route 16.

When Dan said he had a doctor friend who could help them, Bonnie did not expect to see Jonas Belmont, Professor of Medical Sciences at Berkeley.  He was short and heavyset with thinning red hair and green eyes that were magnified by thick horn rimmed glasses.

"Amazing," he said as he looked at Michael's medical records. "Your friend has been under this drug for how long?"

"Almost five weeks now."  Bonnie said.

Jonas shook his head.  "Too long. Much too long.  You were right to consult me first."

He sat in K.I.T.T.'s passenger seat studying the monitor as K.I.T.T. scrolled through the file.  After the initial shock of being in a computerized talking car, Jonas Belmont had proceeded with the matter at hand: getting Michael Knight to safety.

K.I.T.T. had hacked into the database at the hospital and downloaded everything pertaining to Michael.

"No one would have thought to test for something as obscure as this."

"Will he be alright?"  Bonnie asked hesitatingly, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer.

"I can't answer that Ms. Barstow.  I don't know the effects of prolonged exposure to this drug.  But we must get him off it as soon as possible.  You must understand however… There may be complications.  Severe ones. He must be monitored carefully."

"K.I.T.T. can do that."  Bonnie pulled Michael's comlink from the console. 

"Excellent.  I will alert Sullivan Memorial.."

"Dr. Belmont," K.I.T.T. said, "I'm afraid any hospital you take Michael to will be duty bound to contact Dr. Summerfield.  The moment she knows you are involved she will have you removed from his case immediately."

"It doesn't matter.  I will expose her as the charlatan she is." He said defensively.

"Those kind of allegations take time to prove."  Dan agreed. "K.I.T.T. is right. "We'd be playing right back into her hands."

"What do you propose we do then?"  Dr. Belmont waited for an answer.

A smile played at Dan's lips.  "We play a little game of Trojan Horse."

"What?"  Bonnie stared at him baffled.

 

It was three A.M. and they sat in Devon's office.  Devon had never felt as much anger against another human being as he felt against Jennifer Knight at this very moment. What she had put Michael through was beyond cruel.  It was sadistic.  All those times he had sat by Michael's side, never realizing he could hear every word he said.

He listened as Dan explained his Trojan Horse plan.  He looked toward Dr. Belmont.  "The Foundation's clinic is at your disposal doctor.  I will have an unmarked semi here within the half hour.  Anything else you need, please just let anyone of us here know.  I can't thank you enough for.."

Jonas raised his hand.  "No need to thank me Mr. Miles.  I took the Hippocratic Oath many years ago.  I believed in it then, I still believe in it today.  Dr. Summerfield and people like her are a blithe on our society."

Devon nodded.  He looked toward Dan.

"I had Darlene call in a few favors."  Dan drew out a note he had stuffed in his breast pocket.  "She found an empty warehouse thirty miles outside of town.  There is no way Jennifer could trace us there. K.I.T.T. has already downloaded Michael's transfer papers to the hospital.  Now it's up to us to get him out while you keep Dr. Summerfield busy."

"Do you think she'll come?"  Bonnie asked.

"I have no doubt." Devon said bitterly. "She will be more than happy to see me grovel."

"Very well then."  Dr. Belmont stood up, it had been a long night and it promised to be an even longer day.  "If someone could find me a bite to eat then direct me to your clinic, I will begin preparations." 

"Bonnie, have the cook prepare something for Dr. Belmont then escort him to the clinic."

 It was six-thirty A.M.  An unmarked semi truck pulled onto the Foundation grounds and headed for the clinic.  Just as a precaution against prying eyes, the back door swung open reveling a load of wall paneling for the partial renovation of the second floor.

Once behind closed doors the paneling was removed and Dr. Belmont personally oversaw the transition of the empty semi to a fully functioning mobile clinic.

Fifteen minutes later the Foundation's black semi left the grounds followed surreptitiously by two of Jennifer's men.  Another fifteen minutes after that the semi, once hauling the paneling and now a lifeline for Michael, pulled out of the clinic and headed for the transfer point.

Bonnie and Dan, dressed as paramedics, rolled a stretcher down the hallway heading for Michael's room.  Dr. Belmont followed close behind.

Jennifer looked down at Michael.  She couldn't deny herself the pleasure of one last look at the man she despised almost as much as her father, suffering the agony of being trapped in a lifeless body, with a mind as lucid as her own.  Was he going mad?  A chill went down her spine at the thought of him laying there, hour after hour, week after week hearing everything that went on around him.  Listening to the endless prater from his friends and so called loved ones. Pathetic ramblings that meant nothing.  All the while screaming silently for them to listen. 

A cruel smile played at her lips as she leaned down close to his ear.  "How does it feel Michael to know that I am one of only of two people on this earth that knows the truth?"

She traced his motionless lips with her finger.  "You look so much like him." She whispered.  "So much like him. And now, you will die like him.  Garthe will.."

Jennifer snapped her head around at the sound of the door opening.  Bradford, her guard, poked his head in motioning for her.

"Keep that thought."  She whispered in Michel's ear.

Michael heard Jennifer walk away.  Where were they?  Where were Bonnie and Dan?  They knew he was conscious. He had heard K.I.T.T. and Dan.    No….!  The realization came like a crushing blow.   It was just another dream. They didn't know. He was still going to die.  Jennifer was going to win.  The bitch was going to destroy them all.  He remembered the pain in Devon's voice, knew he was close to collapsing, and the loss in Bonnie's voice as she sat hour after hour talking to him, never knowing that his mind was caressing her every word.  The pain in his chest was nothing in comparison to the pain in his mind as he thought about dying here in the blackness alone.

Bradford pointed down the hall at the nurse's desk.  Jennifer blanched when she saw Bonnie and Dan, dressed in paramedics uniforms wheeling a stretcher toward the room.

"Stop them," she hissed.  "Any way you can!"  She slipped out the door and disappeared into the elevator as it closed.

Bradford looked around the hallway desperately. Nothing.  He shoved every door open, looking in every room.  He noticed a wheelchair sitting at the end of the hall.  He grabbed it and a sheet from a shelf of linens and dropped into the chair. He barreled down the hallway straight into the stretcher Bonnie and Dan were pushing.  He knew the minute his kneecap hit the iron frame that he had blown his knee. He withered in pain on the floor, the wheelchair and stretcher lying on top of him he.  But he had accomplished his goal.

Jennifer ran out of the first floor elevator and grabbed the nearest phone quickly dialing Summerfield's number. The phone rang unanswered.

Bonnie and Dan stepped aside as doctors and nurses tended to the injured man. They were losing precious time.  They could not have known it was Jennifer's own man.

Jonas passed by the commotion and ducked into Michael's room.

They waited, not daring to blow their cover until the injured man's leg was stabilized and he was wheeled away on a gurney.  Dan righted the stretcher.

"Michael…"

Michael hadn't realized he'd fallen sleep and he wasn't sure if it was really Bonnie's voice or just another dream.  The last thing he had heard was Jennifer's voice.  One of the worst parts of this black prison was not knowing if he was really awake or just dreaming.  The two intermingled so often he was never sure.

"Michael, we know you can hear us."  He felt her strap the comlink on his right wrist.  "We're here to get you out."

Did he dare to believe that this was really happening?  He'd been fooled before.

Jonas studied the ECG monitor above the bed.  Heart rate, blood pressure, pulse all looked within the normal range. "These readings can't be right."

"K.I.T.T., relay Michael's vitals from the comlink to the monitors." Bonnie ordered.

"I'm overriding them now Bonnie."

"Damn that woman."  Michael heard an unfamiliar voice.

Jonas looked at the readings.  "There's no time."   He unhooked the I.V. line from the catchier on the back of Michael's hand. "If we don't stop the drug now he'll go into cardiac arrest."

Bonnie looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear.  She felt as if she was losing Michael right now, at this very moment.

Jonas grabbed her hand. "Listen to me, we have two hours before the withdrawal symptoms begin.  You have to be strong.  He's going to need you."

She nodded.  She wasn't sure where that strength was going to come from.  She felt Dan's arm around her waist.  "You can do this." He whispered.  "You can do this.  I'll be right by your side.  So will K.I.T.T."

"I must make arrangements for his transfer."  Jonas hurried out the door.

Michael listened to the words.  His head throbbed with the beat of his heart, each beat becoming more painful, his lungs screamed for air as his throat constricted.

 "Just hang in there a little longer." He heard Dan whisper close to his ear. They still didn't know about the other drug. 

He felt himself being lifted off the bed onto a stretcher.

Summerfield finally answered the phone. She was a quarter mile from Knight's Estate.  She had been rehearsing what she was going to say to Devon Miles as he groveled at her feet..  Jennifer was right.  It was so easy.  To think one man, Michael Knight, could be the catalyst to bring down an entire empire like The Foundation.

"What is it?" she snapped into the receiver.

"Where the hell are you?"  It was Jennifer Knight, her voice sounded nearly hysterical.

"I'm on my way to the Foundation.  Miles wants to talk.  I think he's ready to talk about."

"You fool!  It's a trick.  Barstow and Chapman are here at the hospital with some lunatic doctor.  They're trying to get Knight transferred."

"They can't do that." Summerfield raged. "Michael is my patient."

"Don't count on it. The old guy's got transfer papers."

"I didn't sign any damn transfer papers."  She spun the wheel and her car sped away in the opposite direction, back to the hospital.  "Stall them." She ordered.  "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"What the hell do you think I've been doing?" Jennifer slammed the phone down, furious..

Devon looked at the clock on his desk.  It was five minutes after eight and Dr. Summerfield was still not there. 

"Damn!"  He grabbed the phone.  "Get me K.I.T.T. immediately." He barked.  If Summerfield got to the hospital in time to stop the transfer…

"This is highly irregular."  Michael heard one of the nurses protest outside his room. He had heard that voice so many times.  At times she was his only lifeline.  Her name was Nancy.  She talked to him about everything, nothing.  The weather, her kids, her dog named Boomerang because he was an Australian Shepard. He waited for her daily visits.  And now she stood between freedom and this hellish prison. "Dr. Summerfield never said…"

"You have the release papers right in your hand."  Jonas stood inches away from the nurses station, fuming.  They were wasting precious time. 

"I'm trying to reach Dr. Summerfield now."  She insisted.

Michael felt Bonnie take his hand. It felt far away, as if it didn't really belong to him.  The pain in his chest was increasing.

"This is unconscionable. Read the papers Madam.  Mr. Knight has been transferred into my care. Dr. Summerfield's signature is there, is it not?"

"Yes, but." She said flustered.  She searched her desk looking for the paperwork.

Bonnie and Dan wheeled the stretcher out into the hallway. 

K.I.T.T.'s voice whispered from Dan's comlink.  "Dr. Summerfield just pulled into the parking lot."

"I will not stand here and argue with you." Belmont roared.  "If Dr. Summerfield has any questions she can contact me at Sullivan Memorial."

"It will only take a few minutes to straighten this out Dr…" 

"Read the paperwork Madam.  Dr. Belmont.  Dr. Jonas T. Belmont.  And I am not accustomed to being…"

 "Doc," Dan pretended to hand Jonas a chart to sign. "Summerfield is here." He hissed.

Jonas took a deep breath, "Very well Madam," he conceded, "we will clear this with Dr. Summerfield first.  Never have I been treated so poorly."  He turned to Dan and Bonnie. "Take him back to his room until we have this matter resolved."

Jennifer carefully opened the door leading from the stairway and slipped into the second floor hallway.  She could hear the old man shouting.  There was still time.

Dr. Summerfield marched in, her face frozen in anger.  "What the hell's going on here?"  She demanded.

The nurse looked from Jonas to Summerfield.  "Dr. Belmont said Mr. Knight was transferred into his care."

"Since when?"

The nurse held up the transfer papers.

"Call security."  She ordered, her voice cold as ice. "I want this man taken into custody."

The nurse reached for the phone.

"Code Blue! Room two thirty three."  The overhead intercom system suddenly came to life, startling everyone.  "Code Blue!" K.I.T.T's voice echoed through the hospital.

The nurse dropped the phone back on its cradle and ran down the hall.  "Call security."  Summerfield screeched.

The nurse ignored her.  The hall filled with personnel responding to room three thirty three.

"Code Blue…" K.I.T.T.'s voice repeated.

Summerfield reached for the phone.  Dan was on top of her, snatching the phone away.

"If you want to live to see another day you'll do everything I say."  He warned, wrapping his arm around her throat.

"You're a fool." She snarled.  "You'll never get away with it."

"I wouldn't count on it."  He looked over his shoulder at Jonas.  "Let's go. That means you too." He released her neck and twisted her arm behind her back pushing her towards the door.

Michael felt the stretcher move again.  He heard a door open and felt a cool breeze hit his face as he was pushed outside.

"K.I.T.T.!" Dan shouted.

K.I.T.T. swerved to a stop opening the passenger door.

"Make sure she behaves." He ordered pushing Summerfield into the car. 

"You'll never get away with this." She screamed as the door automatically closed and the car pulled up behind the ambulance.

 "Let's get a move on!" Dan shouted helping Jonas and Bonnie lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, then jumping behind the wheel.  "Every cop in the state will be after us."

"Help me!"  Summerfield screamed, pounding her fists on the window.  K.I.T.T. quickly blackened the glass.

The ambulance pulled away from the curb, lights flashing, siren screaming, and headed out of the parking lot. 

Bonnie looked down at Michael, she hadn't realized how pale his face was in the artificial light of the hospital room.  Jonas started another I.V. and placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

Jennifer ran out the door after them waving her hands frantically.  "They kidnapped her." She screamed hysterically, "They kidnapped Dr. Summerfield."

Michael felt the ambulance swerve as they took a turn too fast.  He heard the siren and the sounds of traffic all around. They hit a bump and he heard everything inside the ambulance rattle.  It was getting harder to breathe.  He lungs were starved for air.  He'd come so close.  Jennifer's plan had been flawless from the beginning. 

He wasn't sure when the blackness turned to nothingness.

Dan pulled a hard right, nearly toppling the top-heavy ambulance.  K.I.T.T. spun into the turn braking to a dead stop blocking the road. Four police cars nearly collided with each other trying to stop before plowing into the black Trans Am.  Summerfield shielded her face, certain the patrol cars would smash into them. 

Dan killed the sirens and lights and took two more lefts before pulling in behind an unmarked semi.  The back doors opened and Devon stood waiting.

"It took much too long."  Jonas muttered as he helped lift the stretcher into the semi. 

K.I.T.T. pulled away from the frazzled cops and headed in the opposite direction from the semi.  If anyone was following him he wanted to get more space between them.  Summerfield allowed herself to take a breath as the car sped up.  For the first time she realized no one was driving.  Panicked, she grabbed for the odd looking steering wheel.

"Take your hands off the wheel." K.I.T.T. warned.

Summerfield sat back, searching for the voice.  "Who am I talking to?"  She demanded.

"It doesn't matter.  You tried to kill my partner.  You will pay dearly for that."

"Where are you talking me?"

"To the authorities, eventually."

She licked her lips.  "Look, I don't know who you are, or how you are carrying on this conversation but we can make a deal here."

"Why should I make deals with you?"

"Because I know something about your friend Michael that you don't."

"What?"

"We deal first."

"We are fifteen minutes away from the Foundation grounds.  You will be held there until Michael…"

"Michael will be dead in twenty."

"Dr. Belmont is taking care of him."

"Check with him.  See how your friend is really doing."

K.I.T.T. quickly raised the semi.

Jonas adjusted the I.V., increased the oxygen flow to the mask but Michael's heart rate was still steadily declining.  "He should be responding." He said helplessly.

"How is Michael?"  K.I.T.T.'s worried voice asked from Dan's comlink.

"Not good."  Dan answered.  "He's not responding."  Dan reached a hand out to Bonnie who sat stone-faced, watching Jonas working.

"Tell the doctor I may have something."

"What…?"  The transmission ended. 

"What is your deal?" K.I.T.T. asked.  Even if it were a stall tactic on Summerfield's part, K.I.T.T. couldn't take the chance that it was real.

"You drop me off at the next curb and pretend like you never heard of me before."

"And what will you give me in return?" 

"A way to save Knight's life."

"How?"

"How do I know you will keep your word?"

"I never lie.  If we make a 'deal' I will uphold it and make sure everyone else does."

Summerfield thought about it.  "The next curb."

"Agreed."

Jonas listened in amazement to the lengths Jennifer Knight and Dr. Summerfield had gone to fulfill Jennifer's need for revenge.  After K.I.T.T. relayed the drug and it's dose, he was able to quickly bring Michael's heart rate under control.  There was still a long road ahead, but this part of the journey was over.

K.I.T.T. had kept his promise and dropped Dr. Summerfield at the next corner as soon as Jonas reported back that the drug had been reversed.  It took him another half hour to reach the warehouse, after first making sure that the police, who now had an all points bulletin out for the arrest of Dr. Belmont, Bonnie and Dan on kidnapping charges, was not tracking him.

At first it was as it always was when Michael came too; blackness and the uncertainty if it was really happening or if it was just a dream.  He remembered Bonnie and Dan and the ambulance ride.  He thought they were real but…  Then the first surge of white-hot pain ran down his left leg. He could feel his foot quivering.

"It's alright."  It was Bonnie's voice.  "You're safe now."

He was almost afraid to try to open his eyes.  What if he saw nothing?  He concentrated.  Pain flared in his arms and his hands.  His eyelids fluttered, letting in light.

"Don't be in too much of a hurry."  That voice again. "Give it time."

He opened his eyes just enough to see blurry images.

The pain was becoming overwhelming and he simply had to collapse into it.  He was too weak to fight.

For hours Bonnie had been at his side.  Jonas had explained to them what to expect.  And she had prepared herself, she thought.  But she wasn't expecting this.  The drug was working its way of out his system.  Nerves that had remained dormant for weeks, now flared back to life. The pain, he warned them, would be excruciating. Muscle pain, disorientation, convulsions.   She tried to talk him through the pain, telling him it would all be over soon.  She talked about their lives together.  She held his hands in between convulsions and helped hold his hands down when his body convulsed.  She wiped his face and chest with a cool, damp towel and fed him tiny cups of shaved ice. When she slept K.I.T.T. was there.  He talked about their cases.  He remembered their first meeting.  Calling him Darth Vader's bathroom was a monumental insult and it had taken K.I.T.T. a long time to get over it.  Now it was merely another antidote to their lives together. Devon held his hand, reminisced about past times, some had to do with Michael, some were just memories this night brought to the surface.  It didn't matter.  Michael only understood a few words, but their voices, they kept him sane. Dan was there too, talking, saying nothing, but at the same time saying everything.

Jonas, exhausted, sat back and watched.  There was little he could do now. He had done all he could medically.  It was up to Michael, and his friends. If a man were judged by those who loved him, then Michael Knight was truly a blessed man.

Bonnie hadn't realized she had fallen asleep.  The tremors and convolutions had eased up and he screamed out in pain and confusion less and less. It had been over seventy-four hours.  Everyone was exhausted.  Dan gently prodded her shoulder.  She had been leaning against his shoulder listening to K.I.T.T. His voice was so soft, so gentle and she was so tired. 

"Someone wants to talk to you."  He smiled pointing to Michael.

Michael was looking at her, the tiniest of smiles on his face beneath the oxygen mask.

Dan guided her over to the bed. 

"Michael," she whispered, her voice trembling.  "Are you alright?"

He nodded, just a slight nod.  But it was enough.

She stroked his face, kissed him gently on the cheek.  "Michael..."

Jonas hurried over, checking his vitals.  He nodded, satisfied.  "What he needs now is rest. You all do."

Bonnie turned to Jonas wrapping her arms around him.  "Thank you Jonas.  Thank you."

"My dear," he smiled affectionately, "it is I who should thank you.  You have given me a new perspective on the human and," he nodded toward K.I.T.T., "non-human condition.  There is hope for this world after all."

"Thanks Doc."  Dan slapped him gently on the shoulder.

"And you, Mr. Chapman, the next time you say you need a little medical advice…"

"I know."  Dan shifted closer to the bed looking down at Michael.  He had drifted back to sleep.  "I owe you one."

"And I second that Dr. Belmont."  K.I.T.T. said.  

"K.I.T.T… It has been a pleasure.  I would love to sit down with, or in, as the case may be, and talk for a while.  Michael is a very lucky man to have friends like you."

"And we are lucky to have him."  Devon stepped forward.  "I'm afraid however, you may have to spend a few days with us here.  Just until we get that little kidnapping charge dropped."

He waved Devon off, "That's fine by me.  A few days of rest will be just fine."  He headed for the trailer where a mattress was set out for him.  "Right now sleep is all I'm concerned with.  Good night all."

Bonnie leaned back against Dan, she felt comfortable with him now. She at last saw what Michael saw in him.

"Why don't you follow the doc's example.  K.I.T.T. and I will watch over Michael."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Too tired to argue she grabbed a blanket and disappeared into the semi.

Dan eased himself into the bucket seat.  "Michael's a mighty lucky guy."

"It's too bad he doesn't realize it."

"He does K.I.T.T…  He does."

Michael slowly made his way into the Foundation's garage, his leg cast making it difficult to walk.  It had taken more than a week to get all the drugs out of his system and still he felt weak. It would take time for his muscles to regain their strength.

"Hey Buddy."  He said panting from the strain.

"Michael!  What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say hi." He dropped into a chair, his leg stretched out in front of him.

"Did the doctor's give you permission to be here?"  K.I.T.T. waited for an answer.  "I thought not.  You are only delaying your recovery by defying the doctors orders."

"I had to get out of that place.  I appreciate everyone's concern, but they're driving me crazy."

"What was it like Michael?  Not being able to move or speak?"  K.I.T.T. asked suddenly.  The question had been lingering on his mind.

"It was a living nightmare Pal."

"But it's over now."  Devon said from behind them.  He walked in with Bonnie at his side.  "Your doctor is very angry that you slipped out.  I promised him that I would bring you back immediately.  But I can't very well bring you back if I can't find you."

"I owe you one Devon."  Michael grinned.

"Yes, well, I'm sure we're even by now.  He took a seat next to Michael.   "I thought you would be pleased to know that Dr. Summerfield has been taken into custody."

"I thought K.I.T.T. made a deal with her?"

"I did."  K.I.T.T. said defensively.

"True, but she fled to Switzerland.  Tried to enter the country with a false passport.  She's being extradited as we speak.  She is facing charges for attempted murder, kidnapping, impersonating a doctor, the list goes on."

"And Jennifer Knight?"  Bonnie asked.

Dan walked in juggling a hand full of take out boxes.  "I thought you might be hungry." He grinned. 

"Alimento di Amore?"  Michael asked hopefully.

"You speak Italian now?"  Bonnie chided.

"It's the best Italian restaurant outside of Verona." Dan grinned setting the boxes on the workbench.  "And I brought enough for all.  Sit.  And…" He pulled a bottle of wine and four wine glasses from a sack hanging around his wrist.  "You must have good wine with good Italian food."

"Excellent."  Devon said.

"What about Jennifer Knight?"  Michael asked around a mouth full of food.

"For now she has shifted all the blame on Mary Rivers, alias Dr. Summerfield.   But we will get her.  One of these days, we will get her."

"I'm still unclear about everything that happened." Michael said, patting the cast on his leg. "Everything right before and after the accident is kind of fuzzy."

"Not surprising." Devon explained.  "You were injected with a hallucinogen when you bumped into the man running for the bus.  One of the paramedics who treated you on the way to the hospital was one of Jennifer's men. The I.V. they started was already laced with the paralyzing drug.  The doctors at the hospital had no reason to test for exotic drugs in your system and it would have gone unnoticed if Dan hadn't gotten that sample. Jennifer Knight can be quite ingenious when it comes to finding ways to destroy FLAG.  Fortunately for us, she has not succeeded. Yet."

Bonnie was still confused. "Devon, I heard you order Michael to the Herbert Building myself.  K.I.T.T. analyzed it.  I don't understand…"

"It was my voice Bonnie.  It was part of a speech I made a few years ago at the Board Of Governors meeting.  The Herbert Building Suite 3D was the address of a perspective contributor, John Haskell. He died three years ago. The rest of the message was from parts of that same speech."

"Devon, I'm sorry…" Bonnie began.

"My dear, you did exactly what you should have done.  What I would have done.  The only thing that matters now is that Michael is here, safe and sound."

"Here, here."  Dan held up a wine glass. They all saluted.

"And to you Dan," Michael raised his glass toward Chapman.  "Thank you. Again."

"Don't thank me.  It was a blast working with Bonnie and K.I.T.T. again, which reminds me, I have a request.  One last ride in K.I.T.T.?"

"I think that can be arranged." K.I.T.T. said.

Devon and Michael watched as K.I.T.T. backed out of the garage with Dan in the drivers seat and Bonnie sitting next to him.

"He's a good man." Devon said as he watched the black car disappear from sight.  "Now, we had better get you back to bed.  The doctor will take me to task tomorrow when he finds out that I…"

"Devon, I want to say something first."  Michael looked at his friend.  "Bonnie told me what Summerfield said."

"Michael," Devon sighed deeply, "she made me take a second look at what Wilton and I did six years ago."

"Devon, I can't say that I never think about what my life would have been like.  What would have happened if I was still Michael Long.  But believe me, I'm happy here.  Who wouldn't be?  I've been given this incredible chance to change people's lives, to make a difference.  And I have you and Bonnie and K.I.T.T..  I have it all Devon.  I wouldn't change a thing."

"I believe Wilton Knight would be very proud at this moment."

"Devon," Michael reached out and grabbed Devon's arm, "The Foundation may have been Wilton Knight's idea, but we are who we are today because of you."

"Thank you Michael."

Devon hoisted Michael up from the chair and supported him as they walked back to the house.  No more words were needed.  Ironically, each time Jennifer Knight tried to destroy them, she in fact made them stronger.