Circling around the outskirts of the penitentiary, Kitt homed in on his partner. He had never heard Michael use that tone of voice before. He sounded terrified, broken - to coin a human phrase. He hadn't asked for permission to get Michael. He didn't want to take the chance that Devon might say no.
He could get to Michael easily enough; jump the surrounding fence, through the lower wall that would put him in the solitary confinement hallway. From there It would be Michael's job to get to the car. The cells were small, if he tried to go through the outer wall directly into Michael's cell, there was a sizable chance he would bring the roof down on his already injured partner.
"Michael?" What he would have given to have the comlink signal at that moment. The tags allowed conversation only, not the steady input of Michael's vital signs. Three more calls later, Michael finally answered him.
"Kitt..?" Michael's voice was growing weaker.
"I'm right outside. When I enter the building, I will be approximately three doors down the right hand side corridor from your location. You will have to get to me."
"How much time will I have?"
"Not very much, I'm afraid. The debris will hinder the guards, but not for long."
"Tell me when." Moving to his hands and knees, ready to push through the door as soon as Kitt gave him the word. Whatever it took, Michael was ready to do it to get the Hell out of there.
The reaction was much as Kitt had suspected, yet the darkness of night gave him a great advantage. They shot at him as he sailed over the fence, trying to find him with the spotlights to no avail. Driving around the building in silent mode, lights off, he found the wall he wanted. "Now, Michael!" The clicking of the latch coincided with the thunderous crash from the far end of the building.
Kitt stared in disbelief as Michael appeared. His shirt was torn and bloody, as were his blue jeans. He was struggling to stand, tripping constantly, his hands leaving bloody smears on the wall wherever he happened to touch it to regain his balance.
"Hurry, Michael, the guards are in the corresponding hallway."
Stumbling up to the car, knowing he couldn't quit yet, he grabbed for the opening door. Half falling into the seat, grunting in pain as the wounds on his back were pulled, he reached to close the door and almost toppled out.
"I've got it, Michael." Closing the door as soon as Michael had managed to get back in, Kitt backed out of the building. The jostling was obviously hurting Michael, but Kitt couldn't let himself linger on that. They had to get clear of the compound first. Planning the jump over the fence, scanning as far ahead as possible, Kitt aimed for the softest landing considering the height of the fence.
On the road, Michael shifting time and time again, Kitt allowed himself to scan his partner. What he found revolted him. There were cuts on his face, bruises on his cheeks, chin, ribs and legs. Cuts and scrapes from head to toe, but what really bothered the AI was the welts. Welts on his back, on his arms and hands.
"They whipped you?" There was no keeping the astonishment out of his voice.
Michael nodded. "Yesterday, when they surrounded me." Feeling safe for the first time in weeks, his eyes fluttered shut.
Driving as fast as he dared, Kitt plotted the shortest route to the Foundation while contacting Devon. The older man was not amused at being woken up at this hour, nor with what he had just accomplished, until Kitt relayed Michael's injuries. After a stunned silence, Devon announced he'd be waiting with the doctor at the estate.
Michael shifted, moaning incoherently as his body tried to sleep. The sounds where the worst Kitt had ever heard from his partner.
Waking up slowly, Michael tried to figure out where he was. His body ached horribly, his head was fuzzy, but he knew the sounds, the smells - Kitt had brought him home. Opening his eyes he found Devon standing over him in the medical wing of the Foundation.
"Good morning." Devon greeted with a relieved smile. "There are times I believe that Wilton built this wing with you specifically in mind." Michael chortled. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
"How much have you heard?"
"Kitt's report of how he found you, a rather disturbing one for that matter, and a phone call from the Warden. He tells a tale of you killing an inmate."
Michael's eyes dropped to the floor behind the older man. Devon felt his heart drop in reaction.
"I did it." There was no denying it. Not for his conscience, or from all the witnesses.
"Care to tell me what happened?"
Michael's eyes shot back up, hoping that maybe Devon would believe him. "From what I've seen, the bet is to see how long a new inmate will last. I think the guards are in on it as well as the inmates. They gauge you the minute you walk in, then test you. Mine was a knife fight in the cafeteria. I won. I think that gave me some leeway."
"And that leeway ran out yesterday?"
"Yeah. They cornered me, I'm not sure how many." Michael paused as Bonnie walked in. Unsure whether or not to continue, he waited, until Devon's brief nod encouraged him on. "I thought I had found an opening, a way back outside where the Warden could see, so I bolted. They had me down before I could get anywhere near the doorway." He stopped again, fighting the rising panic the memory brought forth. Taking a deep breath, steadying himself as he sat up, ignoring the pain from the welts, hugging the pale yellow sheets to his chest. "One guy had the whip, another had a piece of scrap metal...." Taking a shuddering breath, staring at the comforter wrapped around him, "They had me on my hands and knees. That wasn't too bad, but when the guy started feeling me up... Jesus, I lost it. I had to get out of there."
"I hate to ask this, but I need to clarify, are you saying they threatened to..?"
"Rape? Yeah, that's what they meant. If I didn't believe it in what he was saying, where his hands went certainly said it all." There was a darkness to his tone as he spoke. Glancing up, he caught Bonnie's horrified expression. "We all know it happens, I just never thought I'd end up in the middle of it."
"Your injuries prove what you're saying..."
"Everywhere but where they are supposed to be for crying rape."
"Michael," Devon sat on the edge of the bed, trying to maintain eye contact with the younger man. "There are enough people on the police force, enough federal agents who have worked with you, who know your methods who can back you up. Not to mention the Foundation and the Warden." Michael nodded, clearly unconvinced. "We've both been through wars, there are times when it becomes a survival issue."
Michael snorted, "I haven't felt like that since the war, since the camp. It was like my mind shut off and all I could think about was getting away."
"All of your wounds will have to heal." The implication was clear.
"Where's Kitt?" Michael was beginning to feel trapped again.
Recognizing the expression, knowing better than to try and stop him, "He's outside. I'll fetch you some clothes." Standing, he touched Michael's bare shoulder, feeling him flinch, though there was no visible mark around the area.
"Devon," Michael called just before he exited the room. "Thank you."
"There's no need. Did you doubt...?"
"Honestly, yes, I did. I'm still worried about Kitt's reaction."
"Kitt may need a bit more of an explanation, but to turn the tables, I'm feeling as though I should not have sent you in to begin with."
"You gave me the option, I took it. I'm just as much responsible." Though it shamed Devon, Michael's words eased him.
Dressed in an old pair of loose fitting jeans and a t shirt, Michael climbed gingerly into Kitt. The welts had been cleaned - some of them had already begun to become infected - the pain killers the doc had given him had helped greatly, let him think, let him breathe, let him escape the infirmary. He had spent too long locked up. To be with Kitt, on the road was what he needed - open space, fresh air, and Kitt's protection.
"Where to, Michael?" Kitt asked as soon as Michael settled into the seat.
"Anywhere, as long as we're moving."
"I'll drive?"
"Please." Michael sat back in the seat, closing his eyes, letting the motion of the car and Kitt's voice lull him.
Devon sat back in his leather chair, astounded. He couldn't believe what he had just been told.
"What?" Bonnie's concerned voice started him as she entered the office.
"They have issued a warrant for Michael's arrest."
"What for? He was in there because they asked for him."
"To stand trial for the death of the inmate. They won't even divulge the man's name."
Bonnie froze, her mind not wanting to grasp the implications. "But, they knew people were dying in there.."
"Yes, and now that Michael has added to that number, he is under suspicion as well."
"They would have used him, then killed him! You saw the state he was in when Kitt brought him home!!"
"You don't have to argue the point to me."
Bonnie just looked at him. "Who requested his involvement?"
"As far as I know, the Warden - why? What are you thinking?"
"I'm not sure yet, but I think I want to do some checking. I'll inform Kitt too." Devon watched her stride purposely from his office.
He had slept, for how long, he had no idea. What he dreamed, he knew he would dream for a long time coming. He could still feel the hands on him, traveling over his body in a gentle caress, a touch that revolted him as the hands neared their target, a touch that caused his brain to stop functioning with any rationality.
He jolted awake for the second time since they had left the Foundation. His back was screaming from the sudden move and his legs had seized up. There was nowhere else he'd rather be though.
"What time is it?"
"After lunch."
The fear that had been nagging at him, grew tenfold at Kitt's simple answer. "I think we need to talk." He was too unsure of where he stood in Kitt's point of view to use any of the familiar nick names.
The car slowed before pulling off onto a quiet side road. Parking off to the side, in the dappled sunlight under a tree, they remained quiet for a moment.
"Michael," Kitt began, slowly, unsure of how he wanted to phrase his questions. "I overheard what you said to Devon." He watched Michael's head drop, felt his heart rate spike, and he caught the look of fear in his partner's eyes. "What happened in there, Michael?"
"I don't know if I can give you a good answer. The truth is that I can't give myself one. I lost control and it cost a man his life."
"There is no way for me to imagine what it was like in there for you..."
"That's just it, Kitt," Michael shook his head, his fingers playing with the underside of the steering yoke. "Up until that point, it wasn't that bad. Sure there were moments where I was worried. But when he..." Michael's voice caught and broke. "I've heard of the gang rapes in prisons, I've seen the aftermath of them. I couldn't let them use me like that."
"No, of course not."
"I was so.... enraged that they'd try something like that."
"Michael, you have to let it go."
Looking up at the voice modulator, he was afraid he'd heard Kitt wrong. "Are you sure about this? I killed a man, Kitt. I did it out of anger, with no justification."
"I believe you are mistaken in that regard. I saw you crawl out of that cell, saw the blood on the wall when you touched it." Michael could have sworn Kitt's voice had become shaky as he recalled the night before. "I may not like the outcome, in any regard, but they would have killed you, that intention was clear by your injuries. We have made mistakes before, Michael, and people have died. How can I not grant you that when you need it the most?"
Relief washed over Michael, causing him to sag in the seat. "You have no idea what you saying that means to me."
"I know you, Michael. I know your convictions - more than anyone I'm sure - you would not have gone to that extreme without reasonable cause. We have other concerns at this point."
The feeling of dread invaded him again. "Like what?"
"There is an arrest warrant out for you."
"What?! They can't be serious?"
"Unfortunately, they are."
"We'd better get home then. Find out of Devon has an ace up his sleeve."
"Michael," Kitt called softly as his driver reached to ignite the engine. "Please don't ever doubt the depth of our relationship. I am more then willing to listen to you, no matter the situation. I believe I've proven that."
Michael sat back gently, sighing. "I'm doubting myself, Pal," he admitted bluntly.
"I can understand that, but we have to get beyond it to clear you."
"How do I get beyond killing a man?"
"By accepting that you had no other possible course of action. That if you had not fought them, they would have raped you, repeatedly, then killed you for enjoyment of it." There was a harshness in Kitt's normally gentle tone.
Michael shuddered at Kitt's candid description. His whole being reacting again to the feel of a hand that still lingered on his skin. His stomach churning again and again.
"Michael, we have to prevent this from occurring to the next victim. Whatever they may have done to deserve their prison sentence, they do not deserve what you are presently going through." Kitt stopped as his partner regained some of his composure. "Let's go home. I know Bonnie is looking into a few avenues. Let our faith in you help to restore whatever they may have stolen from you." Michael nodded, too unsure of his voice to actually speak as the engine turned over.