Well, things have been going rather well. I've been working on a new songfic that is not connected to the AU that "Marissa" takes place in, among other stuff. I have a feeling you might like this new chapter, and I certainly hope so.
Before I begin this chapter, there is something I would like to share with you guys. A long time ago, about 5 years ago, I had written and published a book called "World Key", which involved several things, such as an underground civilization, the modern world, a world of magic and the like 15,000 years or so in the past. It didn't sell well at all, but it did exist. Those few that have read it might see similarities in some of the characters or their names, such as Marissa, Verona and a few others. Well, those characters are mine, too. However, even though some of those characters in the book have the same name (somewhat), eventually, the events in my fanfics will cause the timeline to branch away into something completely different than "World Key". So, in essence, these fanfics will grow into their own AU, completely separate from the events of the novel.
To the reviewers:
KnightSky: Glad you're liking it so far. And may I say that your "The Knight Recovers" story is turning out pretty good as well! Keep yours going, too!
Theravingloony: Yeah, like his old friend at the clothing store said, the incident left some deep emotional wounds in Devon. Thankfully, though, they're starting to close and heal. And as to the bit about writing emotion, well…I have a view about what I call the True Persona of a character, and write with that in mind. Seems to work well for me, I guess.
On with the fic!
Chapter 9: Deciding, Meeting
As Marissa fell asleep, Devon smiled softly at her for a moment before turning to Michael and motioning that they should talk in the younger man's room. He nodded and after letting the others know quietly, left with the older British man on his heels.
Once he had closed and locked the door, Michael said to him, "I take it Kitt and I are going to be out tonight."
"Guard duty is more like it," the Englishman replied, "Parkson will most likely try to go after us again…with the intent of either taking Marissa back or killing her."
"Over my dead body," Michael retorted, earning him an involuntary wince from Devon.
"I hate that slang," the older man murmured, thinking that it would be spoken too low to be heard.
"Okay, the wording was bad, but you get my drift," was the reply, "He's not going to get his hooks into her again."
"That's something I want to talk to you about," Devon replied quietly, "Once it's confirmed whether or not she is my niece, she may have to go back there one last time."
"To help put him away, I hope. Otherwise, Kitt might very well vanish with her. For the lack of a better word, he loves that girl."
"So do I." He added, "Kitt's truly changed…evolved to the point where he actually does have emotions, and he has the capacity to lie at will. I've taken care of the second capacity with an oath, but…" Devon sighed as he said, "I don't know if Wilton was aware of just what we've brought into the world when Kitt was created. I know I wasn't at the time."
Michael nodded, then remarked, "There's been one thing I've been thinking about ever since I got partnered with him."
"Oh? What's that?"
"The difference between simple machines, like basic AI…and living beings, like humans. I've heard someone say that the difference is this: machines are activated, living beings are born. Sometimes, I wind up thinking that, well…maybe a day will come when—"
Devon nodded, saying, "When an AI like Kitt will be born, and not simply activated. If he hadn't changed like he has, I wouldn't have even considered that as a viable possibility. Now, though…the line is becoming more indistinct."
Michael made a faint, affirmative sound before asking, "After we put this jackal away, what's going to happen…?"
"I assume you mean Marissa."
"Yeah. Bonnie assumes that you'll probably go for custody of her."
Devon shook his head, "No."
That made the younger man raise an eyebrow, "Come again…? You're not going to file for custody of her…? Devon, this is your niece we're talking about. I don't know if she has any living family left besides you."
The Englishman shot him a frosty glare for a second that silenced the younger man, then he said, "Don't assume, Michael." He sighed then said softly, "I made the decision earlier…I'm not going to simply file for custody…I'm going to adopt her."
The surprise was rather evident on Michael's face. "Is it possible to adopt your own niece?"
"Yes, it's been done before."
"I'm not going to presume you haven't thought this through, but…that means she'll live at the Foundation headquarters, with us."
He nodded, "Michael, she's spent seven years of her life away from her true family and in as hostile as conditions can get for a child. Call it selfish, but I want her near me. I wouldn't be the first Foundation member to be raising a child in the headquarters."
"Yeah…" The younger man then pressed a button on his comlink, saying, "Hey buddy, got a question…how would you feel if after this is all over, Marissa lives with us?"
"I'd be ecstatic," Kitt replied, "If she were to live elsewhere, it would be as unpleasant as losing you, Michael."
"And that's saying a lot right there," Devon said quietly.
"Call it selfish, but I want her near me, and I think Devon does, too."
That caused both to raise eyebrows, then shake their heads in bemusement.
"What is that phrase…great minds think alike?"
"Definitely. Kitt, we're on guard duty tonight. Parkson might try at her again."
"That is not an option," was the reply, "Going into surveillance mode now. I'll alert you if I detect anything."
"Thanks, buddy." He turned to Devon and asked him, "When are you going to ask her? About adoption?"
"In a few days, possibly after Parkson is taken care of. She's dealing with a lot right now. In the space of a month, her life has gone through tremendous changes...as has mine."
Michael nodded, "Fair enough. Night, Devon."
The older man squeezed his shoulder affectionately, smiling, then left for their room.
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In the city, Parkson drove until he was able to find a pay phone. Once he did, he punched in a series of numbers, pausing at times.
After a few moments, he said, "This is Doug Parkson. I need to talk to Cortez."
A couple of minutes later, the distinct voice of a male Mexican replied, "Que pasa, Parkson?"
"You're not gonna believe this, but that little brat, Marissa Miles, is loose."
"Que! She was supposed to be at the breaking point, according to your last report, so that she would take her own life. What happened?"
"She made contact with someone on the outside is my guess. Little brat took off in a black car last night. Crazy thing was, the thing had no driver! We spotted it and her afterwards and tried to finish her, but that car's about like Superman!"
"I've heard about a car like that somewhere…now listen, Parkson. Let them go for now, just until we confirm all the variables of the situation. Once we find out just who we're dealing with, I'll contact you. When I do, go in and eliminate them. All of them."
"Yes, sir," he growled and hung up.
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Surprisingly (to Devon), there were no further incidents through the night. The next morning, he started the process for having his sister's body exhumed and tested while the semi began its travel towards the Foundation headquarters in Los Angeles.
As they traveled, Devon would watch silently as Kitt would continue teaching Marissa. At other times, she would wander about and ask questions about different things, such as the computers, or if some of them were just like her "Kitty". At other times, she would ask her uncle some more things about her mother.
"I have to admit, it's a bit overwhelming at times for her to be asking so many questions," he had said to Michael once.
"Aren't kids her age always curious?"
"Yes, but it seems as though once she got away from Parkson, she decided to ask about anything and everything."
"Well, if the DNA proves she's your niece, she's got 7 years of catching-up to do. She's one bright kid, that's for sure."
"Hmm, yes…" The Englishman would then trail off into his own thoughts.
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When the semi finally arrived at the Knight mansion, the young girl was rather anxious, even if she tried not to let on. When she finally got her first look at it, her hazel eyes went wide.
"Wow…it's even bigger than M—Parkson's shack and the Wall-less House," she said quietly, "and everyone lives here?"
"That's right," Devon replied, "Quite vast, isn't it?"
"It sure is! It's really pretty, uncle."
"Thank you," he answered, smiling. "How about I give you a tour in a little while, Rissie?"
"I'd like that, thanks."
Before he could reply, another voice cut in…one that he had not heard in slightly over a month.
"Hola, jefe. How was your trip to Helena?"
The two of them turned and saw a pair of people approaching. One of them, a man, looked to be close to middle age. He was at average height, too, with the skin and black hair color that typically marked him as a man from Mexico. He wore a regular outfit that seemed to be more for gardening (a white shirt and blue jeans), maybe for the regular working-class, than for anything else.
Beside him was a young woman that looked remarkably like the man, wearing a white blouse and blue jeans, with brown shoes. She didn't have her full-growth on her yet, although already she was starting to develop into a young woman. Already, she was almost as tall as Devon. She narrowed her brown eyes at first the Englishman and Michael, then at the little girl that was with them. She shook her head, shoulder-length black hair moving with her head.
"Now this is a new face," she said, "She family of yours, Devon?"
"Laura!" The man retorted, "Address him as Senor Miles, comprendes?"
The girl looked a little abashed, although bored, when she replied, "Si, padre."
"I told you before, Rodrigo, I don't mind if she calls me by first name," Devon replied.
"As you say, jefe, but she needs to learn manners," he mumbled quietly.
"Umm, uncle, who are they?" Marissa asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Rodrigo Mariz and his daughter, Laura. Actually, it's Laurine, but she prefers Laura. Rodrigo, this is my niece, Marissa."
"Ah. So you're the reason why Devon's apartments have been changed around. Nice to meet you, Marissa," the apparently-older girl replied coolly, extending a hand.
Marissa would have been puzzled by the action, except for the fact that Bonnie had been practicing handshaking and introducing with her on the trip. Now, she shook Laura's hand. "Nice to meet you too," she replied.
"A cute kid," Laura remarked, "Oh that's right. Cathy said to tell you that you've got some stuff in your office." That was directed at Devon. "Mind if we chat for a while?"
The Englishman replied, "An excellent idea, and thank you. Rissie, I'll be by in a few hours for that tour, all right?"
"Ok, uncle."
As soon as the adults were headed off in different directions, Marissa asked her, "How come you call me a kid?"
"Well, you are, aren't you? Just how old are you?"
"I turned nine a few days ago. How old are you?"
"Me? I'm fourteen. Nine, huh…? I don't know why, but you don't act like a typical kid your age."
"Um, I don't?"
"Not one bit! I dunno why, either." Laura peered at her again, then asked, "Whoa, hold the phone…I think I remember dad and Devon saying something about a niece. Who's your mom?"
"Um, Verona…I think. I dunno, she died seven years ago. How come?"
At this, the older girl winced. "Oh, that explains it…dad mentioned that Devon had some past trauma involving the murder of his sister and his niece's kidnapping. I didn't know that was you. Well, that explains why you don't act much like a kid."
"Trauma?"
"Yeah…you probably heard similar words, like…leaving wounds."
"Oh! Yeah, I heard that on the way here."
Laura looked at her closely, then asked, "You know how to defend yourself, kid?"
"Um…Kitt's been teaching me some."
The older girl shook her head, replying, "I know him. Kitt's a good teacher, but there are some stuff that you can't really learn and use without practice. Tell you what, Marissa. How about every day I'll help with that training by you being my practicing partner?"
"Um, you think that your father and Uncle Devon won't get mad?"
"Not if they know that it's not fighting, but helping to teach."
"Well okay, if they know what's going on."
Laura then narrowed her eyes, peering. "That dress is no good for practicing. You got anything better, like a jumpsuit?"
"Um, jumpsuit? What's a jumpsuit?"
She shook her head, sighed, then replied, "You'll know it when you see it. Hmm, I think I have a pair I outgrew in my room. You can use it until you get your own. C'mon."
"Oh, okay!"
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Devon sighed as he waded through the paperwork that was on his desk. At times, it was simply amazing how much backed up when you were gone for a month. It was enough to wish that he could trade places with Michael. All he had to do was to drive about in Kitt, complete missions…contend with the ladies and kids…wanton mayhem…maybe get shot at…
Well, perhaps almost enough to wish it. But I certainly don't enjoy the back paperwork.
He heard a frantic knock at the door, quickly bringing him out of his musings.
He walked over and opened it, and saw Cathy standing before him, looking flustered.
"Cathy, what ever is the matter?"
"M-mister Miles, Laura Mariz got into a fight! When I saw her, she was still in it in the courtyard and goading—"
"In a fight? With who?" he asked, wondering what this had to do with him directly.
"A little girl, the one you came back with, but she was wearing an old jumpsuit!"
That got his attention.
"Oh my—" he cut off what he had been about to say, then told her, "Let's go."
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"Ok, let's try it again, just like last time. I'll come at you and you pretend that I'm a grown man. You do just as I said." Laura then moved back into position, taking on a rather menacing expression. "Ready?"
"Yeah."
"Then here I come!" she replied and strode over to the little girl, acting as though she meant serious harm.
Marissa stood, looking a little uncertain. The way the older girl was moving was too reminiscent of Parkson. She didn't know if it was on purpose or not.
A minute later, Laura growled and grabbed her arm while moving the other arm into a position to strike a blow.
The younger child frowned, then stomped on the other girl's foot as hard as she could.
"No, no…I told you, if you were stronger it'd work. But until you are, you use the other method. You remember where that is, right?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Ok. Let's try it again." Laura then moved back after letting go of Marissa, then moved into position. A moment later, she charged at the little girl again, grabbing an arm and hauling back with the other.
This time, instead of stomping on the foot, Marissa quickly reared her hand into a fist and punched Laura, aiming for her privates.
The instant the blow connected, the older girl let go, wincing.
"Not bad," she said through the winces, "Now—"
"Laura!" a Mexican voice called out, worried but also perturbed.
"Rissie!" a British voice rang out, mirroring in emotion.
Both turned and saw Rodrigo and Devon running towards them.
"Uh-oh," Marissa murmured as Laura's father grabbed his daughter, looking very angry, while Devon moved in front of his niece protectively.
"Just what in blazes do you think you're doing, young lady, picking a fight on a little child!"
"And don't deny it, Laura, Devon and I heard from two of the Foundation staff!"
"Devon, it's not what you think it is," Laura replied, trying to calmly explain.
"Not what I think it is…! Cathy saw you two fighting, and reported that you were goading Marissa more than once—"
"Um, uncle…"
"Just a moment, Rissie," Devon replied.
"Really, it's not what you think."
"What could it be if you're not picking a fight with a little girl?" Rodrigo asked coldly.
"Laura was just—"
"I know full well what she was doing," Devon put in.
There was a sigh, a familiar one, coming from one section of the courtyard, followed by the statement, "I told you two you should have told Devon first."
All eyes turned to the source of the reproachful tone.
"Just what do you mean, Michael?" Rodrigo asked.
"Well, these two were just practicing. I told them that if they were gonna do that, they should have told you first, just so that this confusion wouldn't happen. Laura insisted otherwise."
"What were you practicing?" Devon asked.
Marissa looked a bit abashed as she said, "Self-defense, Uncle Devon. She offered to help me practice self-defense."
Both adults had mixed expressions at this, ashamed as well as perturbed.
"We tried to tell you," Laura and Marissa both put in.
Rodrigo shot a glare at the older girl while Devon looked a bit abashed while trying to calm down at the younger one.
"As I was going to say, Marissa," Laurine continued as if nothing happened, "Once you get loose, if Michael, Devon or the others aren't far, you hurry to them and tell what happened. Got it?"
"Yep!"
"We're going to have quite a talk about this, Laurine," the Mexican male stated, "Now come inside!"
"Thanks, Laura," Marissa called out and waved, "Maybe you can teach me some more tomorrow!"
Devon shot her a look that she understood quickly: Silence.
Michael couldn't help but snicker and say, "You just got your first taste of raising a kid."
Both eyebrows raised and the younger man didn't try to comment on the expression on Devon's face: What did I get myself into? He knew full well that the older man would go through with it anyway. He wasn't the kind to back down from a challenge.
"While Laura's intentions were well-meant," the Englishman replied after he schooled his expression, "I want someone else to be teaching Rissie self-defense."
"Like who?"
"Like you, Michael."
"Consider it done," he replied, "And she's gonna need a better jumpsuit. Where'd you get that old thing?"
"Laura said she outgrew it and that it'd do until I can get my own."
"Good advice," Devon put in, "I'll see about getting a pair or two made. My dear, it's almost lunchtime. How about you go get changed, hm?"
"Okay!" she replied, waved, then took off.
Michael looked at Devon then said, "You still gonna adopt her?"
"You know the answer to that, my dear boy. She is family. Besides…"
"Even knowing what's in store for ya now, you love her anyway."
The older man harrumphed at that.
