CHAPTER WARNING: Disassociation.

Balance wasn't exactly something Kitt had ever been concerned about; but now he was stuck in a permanent ski mode. Watching humans for long as he had they always made it look so easy, yet he was made to believe otherwise now he was actually forced to try it.

How do people do this?

It took a lot of concentration and multiple falls, but eventually he managed to stand up, using the wall of the ally for support. Now if he could only get out and finally learn where he was. He had his doubts about being anywhere near sunny California; there was a chill in the air, prickling his skin as the wind blew, threatening snow. He looked down the end of the alley, to where he could see people passing by, walking as if it was no big deal. He sighed. It was just one foot in front of the other, right?

He moved slowly, cautiously, almost falling over more than once as he made his way towards the exit, growing more glad with each passing second no one was around to witness the humiliation. He let go of the wall as he neared the end, fairly confident in his ability to continue to stay upright so long as he didn't move too fast.

He really didn't know what he expected once he reached the end of the ally – for all intents and purposes it looked to be a normal, yet somewhat busy, street. Cars rushed up and down the road, while the people continued to rush past him, huddled into their coats and scarves, all the while paying him no mind. He shivered as the wind blew around him, no longer with the alley walls to blunt its icy chills. Not sure what else to do, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and up to get a closer look at the license plate of one of the cars parked on the side of the road.

Ski Utah! it read in blue and red letters along the top, with a small skier placed to the side.

Utah, huh? That would certainly explain why it was so cold...he shivered again, attempting to pull his hands into his sleeves. How in the world had he gotten so far from warm California? He was still new to the world of physical sensations, but he already knew for a fact he didn't like the cold. It made perfect sense now why Michael always...he shook his head, cutting off the thought. He needed to find out what happened; leading somewhere hopefully warm. But where was he even to start? He had no home to go back to, with everyone he ever knew gone for good.

Gone, leaving him alone and forgotten, with nowhere to turn to. Amidst the chilling cold, he was greeted by a strange warmth as something slid down his cheek, his hand coming back wet after he wiped it away. ...A tear? Was he...was crying? He had seen many others do it before, Michael especially when…he shook his head as another shiver shuddered through him. The only way to keep warm would be to keep moving – it was time he left.

He continued walking aimlessly down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets. What was the point of any of this, anyways? Any reason he had to keep existing was gone, and yet here he was, forced into a new state of being, stuck being a human against his will. He stopped, looking down at his hands, a stinging pain coursing through them as they continued to be exposed to the cold air. Pain, actual, tangible pain. He glared, a deep frown setting itself across his face. He was stranded, with no other option but to live with the constant reminder of how he had failed.

...Karr failed once and was left abandoned and forgotten in a warehouse...was this...was this his punishment? Failure was not treated kindly, met with only harsh consequences and no chance to defend oneself. His breath hitched. He was made to protect human life, yet they turned on him the moment he made a mistake. How was that fair? How was any of this fair? He didn't ask for this, didn't want any of it...

Oh Michael, I'm so sorry...

"It must be very difficult to erase people from one's memory banks."

"That's the problem, KITT. You don't. Can't."

"If that's true, they become a permanent part of you."

"The best of them do, buddy… The best of them do just that."

He laughed ruefully, the meaning of the words finally sinking in. He certainly couldn't erase the memories, but it didn't mean he couldn't bury them, to leave them behind as he continued walking once more. It should be simple really; all he had to do was not think of them and everything would be fine. It was an idea that worked in theory, but the problem with theories was they were all too easy to be proven wrong, especially when confronted with the familiar.

"This 'evidence drop' as you call it, is all very strange and unorthodox, Michael. And so is that cap you're wearing."

"Hey, it's my ID. It's what the caller ordered. All part of the plan."

"I don't think I'm going to like this."

"Relax, piece of cake."

"I've heard that before. For instance, when we went up against Goliath. No, Michael, It's this location. Parking lots depress me."

"With all these cars? I thought you'd feel right at home."

"It's precisely all these cars that bother me. Here they sit, left in the sweltering sun, for all practical purposes forgotten while their owners browse in air-conditioned comfort."

"Don't take it personally. All right. I was told to wait in the mall. You wait here. The informant will come by and drop the evidence in the window in about… two minutes."

"Now I'm a mobile mailbox."

"All right, Devon wants a visual on this, so I'm activating your video camera. You buzz me when he makes the drop, okay?"

"Despite what you may think, I'm perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities."

"Boy, you're touchy. What you do? Wake up on the wrong side of the garage this morning?"

"Very funny."

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the memory as he passed by a mall parking lot.

"I suppose this is your idea of a piece of cake."

"Thanks for the reminder, wise guy."

He began to walk faster, in a futile effort to get away from the barrage of memories.

"Are you going to be okay in this parking lot?"

"This is a hospital, not a shopping center. By definition, there's a valid reason for every car here. I'm quite comfortable, thank you."

"Anything to keep you happy."

Up ahead was a banner for a car show; his breathing increasing in speed as he desperately looked away, even as he could no longer stop the flood taking over him.

"How's this?"

"Oh, that would be great."

"April, I can't believe your participating in this barbarism."

"Now KITT, you know we wouldn't be doing this if it weren't absolutely necessary."

"How would you feel if someone decided to extend your nose, remove your ears, lengthen your neck, and paint your body candy apple red? I'm so glad Wilton Knight isn't here to see this sacrilege."

"I think you're both being extremely insensitive to the humiliation involved here."

"You mean Devon's?"

"Mine."

"Well, KITT, think of it this way. Even as we speak, innocent, beautiful cars are being stolen and customized against their will."

"Against their will?"

"Against their will."

"In that case, we have no time to lose. Proceed."

He ran past a man walking his dog, thinking if he could just go fast enough, he could outrun the pain.

"Now that's what I call a very nice, flowing, easy stride."

"How did you find me? Don't tell me that car of yours is psychic too."

"Almost, but this time I asked your friendly next-door neighbor. Mind if I join you?"

"Michael, you're weird."

"Why? Half the men in America jog."

"With their dogs, not their cars."

"Rocky Marciano, Muhammad Ali, are still pretty after all those fights. The Bronx Bomber, Joe Louis...every one of them did road work with their car following behind them. Right KITT?"

"Whatever you say, Michael."

"There."

"I take that back. You're both weird."

But it didn't work.

They kept coming, stringing into one.

"Michael, this time I need your help."

"What's all this?"

"This is distressing, that's what it is."

"I don't know how he did it, but this little T-top figured out the puzzle and won a lifetime supply of auto accessories."

"No kidding. Congratulation's buddy. Check this out huh? Girls, velvet seat covers."

"A compass, in case you get lost."

"A perfumed Christmas tree."

"A pair of fur dice to hang on your mirror."

"Great, huh? Aw, look, a horn that plays happy birthday. Buddy, how did you do it?"

"Well, you know me with puzzles, Michael. And when I saw that one in the circular-"

"I know, they made a puzzle you couldn't refuse. Check this out. Lace curtains, huh?"

"Oh, Michael, where did I go wrong?"

"I'll make arrangements to get you and KITT on a plane to Mexico City as soon as possible."

"I do not intend to set one wheel inside an airplane."

"KITT buddy, I need you to translate for me. Why don't you want to go?"

"Because…I don't like flying."

"But KITT you've never flown before."

"One doesn't have to be bitten by a dog to dislike dog bites. Besides, if cars were meant to fly, they would've been made with wings."

"Alright, if that's how you feel, then I'll go alone. I'll just pick up a rental car in Mexico City."

"A rental car? Michael, you wouldn't."

"…"

"Perhaps I could make this one flight an exception."

"I had a feeling you'd see it that way."

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Three hours in a cargo hold was bad, two hours in a Mexican traffic jam was impossible. I only hope that there was a good reason for all this."

"KITT, I need you to record everything that goes on inside."

"It would have been far easier and cheaper to bring a tape recorder."

"Sure, but it wouldn't be the same without your cheery personality."

"Very funny."

He only stopped when he was forced to, his chest on fire as he breathed heavily, fists clenched and not bothering to try and wipe his cheeks dry.

I'm sorry...

Michael, Bonnie, Devon...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry...

"Hey, are you alright?" His head snapped up, looking over to where a woman was standing in the door way of a flower shop, her face visibly softening when she saw his face. "Why don't you come inside where it's warm? You must be freezing in that." She added with a kind smile, motioning him inside.

Warm

He wondered what it was like, actually being warm for a change. He had only been cold so far, and really, what did have to lose? Slowly he nodded, taking the woman up on her offer. Inside the walls, along with every considerable floor space was covered in colorful flowers of various shapes and sizes, leaving only a skinny, winding maze-like path through to the register sitting on the back wall. It was a small building, yet the scent of flowers filling the air more than made up for it; creating a calming effect that managed to ease his aching heart gently.

She led him to an equally small, yet sunny room just behind the register, leaving him in the door way as she went to rummage through a closet in the back. "Someone left this here last year," she said as she turned back around holding a thick coat, "and I've been meaning to get rid of it since they never came back and it doesn't fit me, but eh." She shrugged, holding it out to him. "I think it should work for you and it'll be much better than just those thin clothes you have on."

He took the coat carefully, holding it like he'd just been given the most precious item in the world. He looked up at her slowly, staring at her in awe. She could have just as easily sold it or kept it for herself, and yet she decided to give it away to some random person she happened to see on the street. Maybe, just maybe...things weren't quite as unfair as he first thought. He slid the coat on, pulling it close and reveling in the warmth it brought with it.

"There you go!" She smiled brightly. "Oh my gosh what am I doing? I haven't even introduced myself, and here I am expecting you to take things from strangers. I'm Annette! Welcome to my flower shop."

"...Ah..." He nodded, fighting to get a sound out. How exactly did one speak? Humans did it all the time, simply opening their mouths and words came out, but...how did it actually work? He needed to let Annette know how much her actions meant to him, how her very sense of being was enough to give him hope. Words were just sounds broken into syllables... "Th-thank..." It was ridiculous and demeaning, but sounding each word out was all he had to go on. "...thank...you."

"Oh!" She gasped, surprise crossing her face before it melted back into a smile. "You're quite welcome. What's your name?"

"I am..."

"I am the voice of the Knight Industries Two-Thousand. KITT if you prefer."

"I..." He gripped his arm, his voice dying in his throat; could he even really call himself KITT anymore? ...KITT had been a car, a computer living inside it – and it hadn't even been a real name. 'I am the voice of...' except he wasn't, not anymore.

"It's okay if you can't tell me." Annette said gently, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "Why don't you sit and rest while I get you something warm to drink?" She added, leading him over to a nearby table. He nodded silently, sitting down on one of the chairs as Annette went upstairs, disappearing from view.

A name…he leaned forward against the table, resting his head on his arms as he stared unseeing at the wall ahead. It was a good question; one he couldn't get away from. The being known as 'KITT' was broken, unable to take the strain of what had happened. 'KITT' may as well have died the day the mansion was destroyed; leaving behind an empty, confused person in his wake.

…If he wasn't 'KITT', then who was he?

"Hey, you doing okay?"

He glanced up to see Annette standing across the table from him, a worried expression filling her features. "Oh, I'm..."

I don't know.

He glanced back down at the table. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn't know anything, let alone how he was supposed to feel.

"It's alright if you don't have the words. Here," Annette added, pushing a mug across the table to him, "hot chocolate always makes things better."

He paused before wrapping his fingers around it, the warmth radiating from it thawing out his chilled hands. He pulled it closer, staring down into its depths; a pleasantly sweet aroma rising from it as he watched the tiny marshmallows swirl around. It was a popular drink for the colder weather he knew, although he'd never really been sure of the appeal until now. Slowly, hesitatingly, he put it to his lips, taking a small sip. It was as lovely as he had always heard, rich and deep, with just the right amount of bitterness to counteract the almost overpowering sweetness.

"Do you like it?" Annette asked, and after he nodded she continued. "It's my Gran's recipe. My mother might've had a hand it I guess, and maybe an uncle?" She shrugged. "It's been in my family so long no one's really sure who first came up with it, and everyone's is kinda different, but it's base is all the same. Oh! Speaking of, when I first saw you, you looked really upset. Are you lost? ...Probably should've asked that sooner." He nodded again, and she shook her head with a small sigh. "Yeah, definitely should have started with that. Do you have family you could contact? Or anyway to call home?"

"This business of family seems pretty complicated, Michael."

"Well, it can be. You see family isn't just people who you're related to. Family can be people who love you, people who care about you. It doesn't matter how you know each other. Some friends are like family, KITT."

"Even though Becky is adopted, she's still April's niece."

"That's right."

"I'm afraid I still find it all a bit confusing."

"Take Devon, April, and you and me. We're like a family, aren't we?"

"By your definition, yes."

"See what I mean, partner?"

"Thank you, Michael."

Home. Family.

The words twisted the already painful knife, in turn causing his eyes to start stinging. "I don't..." The warmth on his cheeks was back, his words coming out broken as grief wracked through him. "I don't know." He didn't have a family, or a home, or anything to ground him to reality. All he had was a stranger's body, an unreal sensation of false existence and its hurt. A strangled cry escaped him as he gripped his arms tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as the sheer force of the pain threatened to overtake him. "I don't know!"

"Oh, my word I'm so sorry." There were strong arms around him, holding him tight. "You can let it out, it's okay, I'll be here."

Annette was warm. Safe. He wrapped his arms around her instead, her words the final key in releasing the dam of how much hurt he was holding onto. He cried, loud and ugly, unsure how to stop to torrent of emotion yet at the same time finding he didn't really want to. She didn't try to stop him either; just continued to hold him close, as if trying hold whatever it was he had become in one piece. When the crying finally stopped, all that remained was numbness. It was better than the hurt at least, and he wasn't about to complain.

"Feeling any better?"

"...Maybe a little." He muttered.

"Good. We should figure out where you're staying though." Annette sighed. "Honestly, I'd take you in but my place is no bigger than a shoe."

"I see that as highly unlikely."

Annette laughed. "It's an expression! Hehe." Keeping one arm around him, she pulled her phone out her pocket with the other, dialing a number before placing it to her ear. "Let me make a call and see what I can do."

/

In the end, there was a spot free at a nearby orphanage, and the cop Annette had talked to had offered to swing by and give Not-Kitt a ride there.

"Marley's not a bad guy," Annette was saying while they waited, "although I think the main reason he agreed is because he has a thing for Mim."

"Mim?"

"She runs the orphanage. She's really nice, so I think you'll like her. Marley's got a huge crush on her." The bell at the front of the store rang, and Annette stood up, motioning for Not-Kitt to stay there. "Oh! I'll go see if that's him."

He watched her leave, disappearing through the door she had first led him through and if he listened carefully, he could just make out the conversation.

"Ah, there you are! We were just talking about you." Annette spoke first, followed by a second, gruffer male voice.

"Hope you haven't been fillin' his head with too many weird stories of me." A pause. "How is he?"

"He's calmed down, but I'm sure he's still upset. I need you to actually be tactful for once, okay?"

"I've got plenty of tact."

"As someone who grew up with you, I can safely say that's not true."

"Hey!"

A small laugh. "C'mon, he's back here."

Annette entered the room first, followed shortly by a skinny man in a police uniform, and Not-Kitt made no move to hide the fact he had been listening in on them. There was no point, really.

Upon seeing him, Marley put on what Not-Kitt could only wonder was his most convincing smile. "Hey, there kiddo! I'm Marley, and I'm here to take you to your new home!"

There was an audible, exasperated groan from Annette. "He's not a baby, Marley. I did tell you he was around sixteen, didn't I? You know, teenager?"

"Well how am I supposed to talk to kids?"

"I thought you said you had tact."

"I do!"

Annette shook her head, shoving Marley to the side. "Please excuse my idiot brother. He's not always this useless."

"I'm standing right here!"

"It's okay." Not-Kitt said with a small laugh. "It's nice to meet you, Marley."

"Likewise." Marley said with a more natural smile. "I didn't catch your name though."

"...I don't have one." It was still an unpleasant truth to admit, but there was no use in denying the truth of reality.

"How-"

"He doesn't remember anything." Annette helpfully cut in. "I'm pretty sure he's got amnesia."

Amnesia

Not-Kitt nodded. Yes, that was it; he had no name, no past, nowhere to call his own. He was an orphan to the world, the dream of fantastic adventures with a man called Michael Knight and the sentient car know as KITT was just that – a dream. A fond, magical dream to which he would escape to ease the loneliness.

And that's chapter 2 done! In the original there was a mention of a flower shop, and I always felt like it should've had a bigger role than just a passing mention. There's also a bunch of things that really struck me as being a bit too convenient, so I'll be fixing that. Same end result, just the how will hopefully make alot more sense and flow better. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed please let me know what you thought!

-Xire