Thanks to the timely arrival of Michael, Devon and April escaped their impending death at the hands of Garthe Knight. Through the combined efforts of the team and KITT, Garthe Knight and his armored truck Goliath had met their end over a cliff to the sea. But we never see the aftermath of Devon and April's time together in their cell. This is a fluff about what might have gone on afterwards.
Devon and April waved as Michael Knight and KITT, his black Pontiac, disappeared down the long driveway.
"He will be gone for at least a week," April mused quietly, crossing her arms over her navy jacket, her eyes following the black car until it could no longer be seen, then her ears took over, tracking the sound of the car until the V8 roar faded.
"Do not worry, April," her boss, Devon Miles responded, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sports coat thoughtfully. "While Michael is gone, I have stationed several extra cameras around the Foundation, and I had an instant commlink installed in your cottage. You can simply call Michael's name, or KITT's if you prefer, and the system will ping him with your location immediately."
April finally dragged her attention away from the driveway to glance toward the kindly older man. Her vision was blurry for a second from staring at the bright, sunbathed concrete, but she could still make out his calm smile as her eyes focused on his face.
"Thank you, Mr. Miles. That was very thoughtful of you."
The blue eyes watching her twinkled. "No trouble at 'all, April. No fiend is getting the better of me again, I can tell you that. Those ninnies will be picked up the moment they cross the boundary lines if Garthe were to ever try anything foolhardy again, the rogue."
"Do you think he will?" April asked quickly, and Devon winced at the tone of worry in her voice. "I thought they said he was gone and gone for good. What if he comes back, Michael will be so far away, and he can't help us!"
"April, April," Devon spoke quickly, his voice raised at first, then tapering off to a kind plea. Instinctively, he moved forward, laying a slight hand on her arm. "Really, dear girl, you mustn't worry so. I don't know if Garthe will be back, couldn't say for sure. But Michael said he was sure it was curtains for him and that's enough for me, for now. Yes, we thought KARR was gone and he came back eventually, most inopportune situation that was. But we have taken new precautions, and the investigators are seeking to confirm his unfortunate demise. Please try to rest and remain calm until we know for sure, hm?"
April looked away from the ice blue orbs looking into her face, unable to hold the intense gaze that sought her promise that she would be calm. "Mr. Miles, you would be more likely to succeed in flying KITT to the moon that to get me to somehow not worry."
A mischievous smile crossed the man's face, and he raised an eyebrow. "I'll call NASA right away and get someone started on that."
April turned to frown at him in evident frustration, but the glimmer of humor in his eyes instantly cooled her sharp words before they escaped her lips, and she gave him a weak smile.
"Really, Mr. Miles! Fine, I will do my best not to worry."
"Thank you, April. And it's Devon," he replied, offering her his arm. "Tea on the patio?"
April did not feel like having a relaxing evening. The man who had left her and her boss in a house rigged to overtax the electric servers and burst into flames was not yet confirmed dead. How could she expect to get a wink of sleep ever again? And with Michael and KITT off on an errand to LA, there was no backup. Sure, Michael had confirmed that the massive tank of a truck had exploded into flames, and buried itself into the bottom of the bay, but didn't evil henchmen always have a backup plan? Her feet subconsciously followed that of her escort as they left behind the bright drive to take shelter in the roofed patio. She threw a kind smile in Devon's direction as he motioned for her to take a seat, fluffing the cushion before she did so.
"Now, April, think about those roses over there, or that hummingbird. See it over there? Just listen and breathe. Impressive, they are, quite impressive."
"I'll try, Devon," she replied again, mechanically, feeling a twinge of guilt at the happiness that flitted through his elegant face at the empty promise. How trusting he was. How touching that trait was, a characteristic of his person.
She let her eyes wander out into the front yard at his suggestion, where the little hummingbird flitted from one gently waving blossom to the other. His singing wings began to echo in her ears like a little purring melody. The sun beat down onto the grass beyond, its shimmering glow rising in barely visible, undulating waves from the neatly manicured expanse. The humming, the ticking of the heat on the metal roof above them, the warmth of the tea she was grasping tighter and tighter, the sunny air, it all began to trigger something inside and her hands began to shake. The world began to recede into darkness, the air became stiflingly hot.
"April?" A grounding voice to her left spoke suddenly, and she whipped her head around to glimpse the speaker, expecting Garthe Knight and his leering, greedy gaze. The realization that someone was right beside her touched her reflexive nerves like a red-hot poker and she instinctively shrieked and nearly tossed her cup from her hands toward the voice. In one motion, she had managed to get to her feet and stumble backwards, clasping shaking fingers together around the cup she still held as an anchor to reality, trying to control the desperation that she felt inside her lungs at the sudden lack of breath. They burned with the failing oxygen; but her heartbeat loudly in her ears, and the pounding of blood being stripped of every last oxygen ion roared inside her head. She couldn't will her lungs to expand any further, and her eyes refused to open, not wishing to see those evil eyes again. Black nibbled at the edge of her consciousness, and the world fell silent around her. The adrenaline overloaded the fibers of reality, much like the electricity of Garthe's hideout, and through the haze she began to hear a calm voice speaking. Like cool water on a summer beach, it soothed the burning energy, and she forced her pounding ears to try to focus.
Devon realized that something was wrong long before April did. He saw the way that she grew still watching the world around them, and he could tell she was somewhere else. He tried to speak to her, but she did not appear to comprehend him. Her breathing grew quiet, and he moved quickly to her side. This did not create the reaction he had been hoping for, as she violently moved away, nearly dropping his china in the process.
"Are you okay, April?"
She felt rather than heard him, his presence the needle in the balloon of anxiety that threatened to swallow her entirely.
"I - I think - " she squeezed her eyes shut as she vaguely realized that she was merely mumbling in response to the gentle question, and she clutched the cool glass tighter.
"April," he spoke again, softly, to the swaying figure. "My dear, are still holding my quite beloved china cup, and I would appreciate it if you would release it before something terrible befalls it. It is part of a set that goes back around eighty years, and it's worth a decent sum. But not – not right now, carefully, set it down, and then you may carefully – carefully let it go, there's a good girl." He moved forward, reaching to carefully pry the cup from her still frozen fingers.
Through the silent blackness of her panicked mind, April finally heard this request, and felt the gentle rescue of the china, as its smooth surface left her hands. Her eyes blinked open timidly, refusing to focus.
"Easy, child, give it a minute," the voice spoke softly. "You seem to have had quite a fright there."
The blades of grass beneath her feet came into view, and she slowly looked up to see her boss staring back at her. Confusion crossed her face, and Devon would have chuckled at the adorable helpless expression, much like that of a puppy trying to figure out why the tail he was chasing just wasn't ever getting within reach. But he refrained, straightening his shoulders in a brave motion.
"Now, then, my dear, let us move indoors where it is a bit cooler, shall we? The heat seems to be a bit uncomfortable today."
She was still for a moment, while he waited patiently for some kind of reaction, then to his approving nod, she silently looped her arm through his offered one, allowing the older man to lead her back toward the foundation. "He left us there, Devon." She spoke softly, as they paused while Devon silently motioned to someone walking by to retrieve the tea service from the lawn.
"Yes, he did," Devon responded, taking the lead and choosing the quiet tree lined path to the main house. "Garthe Knight is an unscrupulous, heartless fiend with no concern for human life. But Michael found us, April. Keep telling yourself that. You are safe now."
Somehow, she made it through dinner, trying her best to avoid Devon's concerned frown. His forehead was knit all through the meal, as he tried to make small talk and continually offer her tea and random foods. But the fear she had felt that afternoon still clung to her throat like a noose, and she could not eat. In the middle of his random dissertation of the shipping of china to the West Indies, she stood, a weak nod in his direction as a means of farewell, and that was all she could do.
And somehow, she made her way to the cottage that she called her own on the Foundation grounds, near the main house, and shut the door to the world, and ignored the phone that rang for nearly fifteen minutes after she locked her deadbolt. No doubt Devon was wanting to check on her, maybe ask that she return to the main house, or go see the Foundation doctor if he was still in his office at that hour. But she couldn't find any energy inside her to speak with anyone or keep her eyes open. She was not sleepy in the least. Oh no. She just wanted darkness. The painful, leering darkness, so maybe Garthe's face would stop appearing in every portrait and china pattern around the main building.
Hours passed. Hands folded across her chest, she gazed up at the black ceiling, willing sleep to come and yet willing it to flee. She did not want to be trapped in the nightmares of sleep, yet the dreams of consciousness seemed to almost be worse as her imagination played the day's events over and over. The crackling of the wires in the walls so close to them; the dimming, flickering lights; Garthe's eager, hungry eyes that dimmed to hatred as she told him her opinion of his kind. It was a pounding ache in her heart, and she had no idea how to escape it.
She reached across the bed and found the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. Its incessant ticking had kept her awake for hours, staring at the blackness of the ceiling. Logic told her that Devon was right. There was no use in worrying until they knew for sure one way or the other if Garthe was still alive or permanently beyond rising against them again. But her mind kept replaying Garthe's dramatic entrance to the Foundation, glass shattering, commandos running everywhere, his leering smile of triumph to have them as a mouse in a cage again. And she knew that he would be nearly impossible to get rid of.
A lone tear ran down the side of her face, and she brushed it away angrily. Garthe Knight, with all his bigotry and audacity, had destroyed the security that she had felt in a place as remote as the Foundation. But it had made her also question her own self. Had she really offered herself – in that way - in place of Devon's imprisonment and eventual death? What if Garthe had said yes? He might have left Devon for dead just to spite her, and then taken her with him whether she asked him to or not. Yet, there was a prideful arrogance that would not let him take her, if she was not willing to agree on his terms. She was grateful that he was so unbending in his desires. She threw back the covers and pushed herself backwards until her shoulders rested against the headboard, pulling her knees to her chin. Her own saving grace had been that Garthe was too intent on revenge to be bothered with his own desires. The death of Michael Knight was his fulfillment, and nothing was going to stand in the way. Another tear ran down her cheek, and she rested her forehead on her knees. She felt alone. And being alone hurt.
"KITT?" She called softly, hoping that a myriad of alarms wouldn't go off by the mention of his name.
She held her breath, waiting for the voice – please, just the voice...
"April? Are you well?"
She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and nodded, although the talking car couldn't see her, of course.
"Yes, I am, KITT. How are you and Michael getting along?"
"Well," KITT replied dryly. "I am currently parked alongside what you call a 50's diner, with horrible booming music playing over the loudspeaker. Michael is inside and supposed to be having dinner and a - meeting – but the lady he went inside with was definitely not dressed for business. At least not office business."
April found herself smiling at the indignation of the car. "KITT, I thought you didn't get jealous."
"I am not jealous, April," the car responded matter-of-factly. "I am being realistic. We still have two hundred miles to drive, and if we spend too much of our time at this – meeting – I will be driving while Michael is resting his eyes. And everything else."
April found herself blushing at KITT's rather blunt statements, and the knots at the base of her skull began to lessen. Weariness crept into her joints, and she barely heard that KITT had asked a question, just the tone of his voice that brought her back to reality.
"I am sorry, KITT, did you ask me something?"
"I merely asked if you were okay, April. You seemed a bit – off."
"I am okay, KITT. Just testing the alarm system. You have a good night, okay, and don't let Michael have all the fun."
KITT sounded concerned as he replied "If you say so. Goodnight April."
"Goodnight KITT. Don't worry."
KITT sensed the connection to her cottage disengage, and he documented the call. At that moment, Michael opened the door and hopped inside. "Hey buddy, who was that? Got a notification of an incoming alarm call."
"It wasn't an alarm, Michael, not really. April said she was testing out the new one. Must be something that Devon had installed at her cottage."
"Huh, did she say why?" Michael asked, putting on his seatbelt and then shifting into gear.
"No," KITT replied, hesitating. "She said not to worry."
Michael's eyebrows furrowed. "Why did she say that? Did she seem upset?"
"Michael, I am just a car. I am not used to deciphering these female human emotions. Here, listen to the recording and you tell me."
Michael chuckled at the car's bluntness. KITT ignored his amusement and turned on the call recording. The picture of the dark cottage illuminated the call screen, and April's exhausted voice filled the car.
"KITT?"