Title: Pretty Face

Author: knightshade

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Knight Rider.

Author's Notes: Thank you to knights_13 for the beta! This was written for the color_i_fic challenge.

This story takes place early in season 2 and is in the Sand Castles alternate universe (It has its own universe? Who snuck that in when I wasn't looking!).

Pretty Face

Michael closed the door to his suites with a sigh, dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, and ran a hand through his already well-raked hair. He cast a guilty eye at the red light on the answering machine, but it was solid, as it always was – he had no reason to expect it to blink. The people he wanted to hear from never called. One couldn't. The other . . . didn't.

Shower or food? He didn't really have the energy for either right now. Mentally flipping a coin, he padded into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. He stared at the bare shelves, breathing in the cool air. Fuck it, he thought and despite the early hour, reached for a beer. He popped the top off and wandered into the living room. Sinking onto the couch, Michael thrust his feet up on the coffee table, and took a deep swig from the bottle.

God, he missed Stevie.

He missed her so much it was like a gaping chest wound. Everything about it hurt. She was out there somewhere and he couldn't have her. It wasn't something he was able to ignore anymore, like he had before he'd spotted her picture in that newspaper. Before he'd gone and gotten mixed up in her life again. It haunted him, kept him up at night. Like it or not, he was walking wounded. He could pretend otherwise for Devon, pretend for Kitt, but he couldn't pretend for himself.

He knew better.

Michael could bury himself in the cases, could spend his vacations thrill seeking, but there wasn't anything he could do to take his mind off Stevie during the inevitable quiet times.

Michael took another deep gulp from the bottle, absentmindedly resting it against his lower lip.

Losing Bonnie too only made the wound bigger. He knew their relationship would probably never be all that he and Stevie had been, but at least it'd been something real. If he hadn't run into Stevie, he knew he could have buried her in his heart and been happy with someone else. And he really liked Bonnie. Their relationship was different. It was definitely more challenging - but in a way he kind of liked that. It made it feel less like he was chasing his own past.

Helping Stevie had probably put a stake in the heart of his budding relationship with Bonnie. That much he understood and accepted. But then Bonnie had left. He'd lost her friendship as well as any possibility of a real relationship. The two most important women in his life were out of his reach and he'd lost them both at once.

It left him painfully, bitterly alone - a sucking chest wound that had emptied him of everything.

And along came April.

Michael swilled the last of the beer and got up, not really sure where he was going. His feet led him back to the kitchen for another beer. He knew he should shower, get cleaned up, do something. But he couldn't face the mirror right now. Instead he staked his claim on the couch again - not that anyone was going to fight him over it.

He didn't even really know why he felt guilty. He was pretty sure that April was on the same page. He'd always been careful about that. He lived a dangerous life on the road, and he wasn't a priest, but he didn't want to hurt anyone. He'd always tried to be careful – to be clear about his intentions, to only get involved with women who weren't looking for anything more than he was. He'd gotten good at looking for the signs. April fit the bill.

She was pretty and nice, and most importantly – there. She flirted with him. And she had those captivating red curls. She'd probably have some fancy name for her hair color - ginger or strawberry blonde or something. It didn't really matter to him. Her curls were pretty, soft, and they took his mind off things. Besides, he was pining over a blonde and a brunette – he might as well have a fling with a redhead.

April was a fun distraction, a pretty face. There was nothing complicated or deceptive about her – she was basically an open page, which was nice. And judging by the cheery but detached way she smiled at him this morning, that was probably how she saw him too.

She wasn't going to fill the hole.

And he didn't think she wanted to.

So why the hell did he feel so guilty?

Sure, Devon wouldn't be pleased if he found out. But there were a lot of things that didn't please Devon, and frankly Michael didn't really care. And Kitt didn't seem too concerned about it. Michael had been bracing himself for the disapproving lecture when he got in the car this morning. But it hadn't come. There'd been a stern silence, but it had faded by the time they arrived back at the Foundation. It surprised Michael completely. The morning after he'd spent the night with Bonnie, Kitt had practically pounced on him at the first available opportunity. He wondered why the change, but suspected that Kitt had simply given up trying to lecture him on this particular topic. Either that or his partner felt the same way he did - April was nice but she just wasn't Bonnie.

Michael scooped up the 'dead soldiers' by the necks and went back into the kichen.

Why was he feeling so guilty? It wasn't like he was cheating on anyone. True, it probably wouldn't make either Stevie or Bonnie happy to find out about his activities, but neither of them had any claims on his fidelity anymore.

He dumped the empties in the trash bin and decided he really needed to get on with the inevitable. It was time to get back to pretending. Pretending that the last year hadn't pitted his heart with craters, pretending he was still the carefree crusader, pretending he was anything approaching whole. But as the bottles clattered to the bottom of the bin, he allowed himself one last self-indulgent thought.

He didn't feel guilty because he was claimed. He felt guilty because he wanted to be.

-knightrider

January 6, 2006