Part 3
By Gumnut
1 Jan/ 12&13 Jun 2005
Darkness.
Weightlessness.
No, not quite. On either count. The darkness was sprinkled with spots of light, and voices wafted on the wind.
Wind. Definitely wind. It was teasing his hair again.
And his body floated in it. A soft sway, and a heartbeat that was too fast to be his own.
Kitt?
A voice answered him, but it wasn't his partner.
Kitt!
He moved, attempting sit up, and his body complained. Sparks of pain danced behind his eyelids and for a moment he froze in horror as the memory of sparks arcing across the Trans Am dashboard forced him to realise that Kitt may never answer him again.
The voice that wasn't Kitt's became urgent and something pushed him down, restraining him. He couldn't move.
"Kitt!" Water speckled his face. "Kitt!"
The name was caught by the breeze, as his world swayed, the other heartbeat throbbing faster, catching up with his own.
And the wind blew him away.
xxxxx
She hit him.
It only took a moment of distraction on his part. A simple technique the man had used against them several times that day already.
Time to turn the tables.
The scream that crawled up the cliff and down her spine was as familiar to her as if it had been her own child. Because in a way he was, and he was in pain.
And it only fuelled her anger, her grief.
Her loss.
So she hit him.
One moment he was staring at her with over confident arrogance, the next, his eyes were drawn to the cliff edge, and she moved.
One hand came up, catching Devon's shoulder and shoving him aside, while the other, full of wine bottle, swung and impacted the side of the head of the man who would be his captor.
The man who had taken so much from her.
So much.
Devon fell with a yelp and her opponent wavered, the gun pointing anywhere but in a coherent direction. Blood ran down the side of his face, a dent in his cheekbone evidence of the bottle's impact. His eyes struggled to focus, catching hers. The barrel of the gun turned in her direction.
She didn't hesitate.
This time the bottle smashed, the crack of shattering glass masking that of shattering bone as it collided with his arm.
His scream was curiously satisfying.
She moved to hit him again.
"Bonnie!"
Devon.
And suddenly security was finally there. Men in grey uniforms swarmed over the scene and her opponent was swallowed by them.
Devon.
A small part of her brain shuddered in shock, but the rest of her knew it wasn't over yet. Her boss lay huddled on the grass, his pale face echoing the pain he was in.
The remains of the bottle fell from her hand.
xxxxx
MichaelMichaelMichaelMichael..."Michael, I think you should take the day off."
His driver stared at him for a moment. "You think I should take the day off?"
"Yes, I do." Pause. "What's the matter, Michael?"
"Well...ah...what about the Ferreni case?"
"It can wait."
Michael frowned. "You feeling all right, buddy?"
"Yes, Michael, why?"
"You seem...a little out of sorts."
"Just because I think you need a break does not mean there is something wrong with me, Michael."
"Okay." Then, "You've been speaking to Bonnie?"
"No, Michael, I have not."
"Okay."
Silence for a moment.
"Michael, how about a dose of sun and surf?" Sun and surf, sun and surf, sun and surfsunandsurfsunandsurfsurfuuuuuuuurf...
"What?"
Electronic sigh. "A trip to the beach, Michael."
He was sitting sideways in Kitt's driver's seat, his feet hanging out the door while he sorted through a pile of case files looking for what Kitt assumed was Ferreni's arrest report. The fact that he didn't respond immediately to his suggestion only confirmed his assessment of his driver's condition. That and the fact that Kitt had that arrest report in electronic format only anyway. A flick of a relay and he set his printer running. Seconds later the long searched for report fell to the floor.
"I believe what you are looking for is just left of the main console." Kitt sighed to himself as Michael turned and retrieved the required papers.
"Thanks, Kitt."
"Michael?"
"Huh?"
"You've been working around the clock for three days. Ferreni is in jail; Devon is wrapping up the case. You need rest."
"I'm fine, Kitt." Still absent.
Kitt chose to slowly close his driver's side door.
Michael jumped, automatically lifting his feet out of the way. Which in turn enabled Kitt to close the door even more. "Michael, get in the car."
"Kitt, what the hell are you doing?" He tried to push the door open a bit further with one foot.
"Kidnapping you."
"Kitt, stop fooling around."
"I'm not fooling around." He wiggled the door mock-threateningly. Actually this was quite funny. The look on Michael's face was comical.
"Kitt!" Kitt, can you hear me? Kitt!
He sighed, letting the door open again. "Michael, please."
"What!"
Different tactic. "I need a break, let's go for a drive. How about the beach?"
Another stare. "Kitt, are you sure you're all right?"
Aaaaaargh! "Actually, no, I think I need to get out of here. Can we go?"
Michael blinked a moment before turning himself around in the seat and pulling the door closed. He started the car. "So where did you want to go?"
Through the nearest wall. "How about the beach, Michael?" The beach. Michael!
"Sounds great, buddy." Michael yawned.
"Do you mind if I drive?"
"Go for it. I have these case files to go through anyway."
Kitt eyed the pile of files now on his passenger seat and briefly considered ejecting them out on to the street.
Only anti-littering laws stopped him.
Switching to auto cruise he targeted the nearest hopefully deserted beach and bee-lined for it. He even cranked up some rock'n'roll music in the hope of distracting his partner from that stack of paper. They should have the majority of the day to themselves. Nothing was scheduled until the Charity Dinner tonight and Kitt had every intention of fending off Devon should he attempt to interrupt this small chance for Michael to get some much needed rest. Rest. Reeesssssssssssssttt. Michael!
He briefly wondered if he could re-target his laser through his video feed system and torch those papers where they sat.
No such luck.
He stared up at his driver. It was nearly lunchtime. Perhaps he could sideswipe a fast food drive thru, and use Michael's digestive system to lull him into some relaxation.
That could be a plan.
xxxxx
The thrum of a chopper's blades was background to everything by the time Bonnie made it over to the cliff edge and, holding her breath, peered down. In the fading light she was just able to see the dark shape of the Trans Am teetering on the edge of a ledge at the bottom of the fall. A sudden blinding spotlight lit up the scene at the Lifeflight chopper pinpointed the persons needing rescue.
She had to get down there.
The party had become chaos. Security swarmed everywhere, police had arrived and with them the flashing lights of ambulances. Elegant clothes and hairstyles were in disarray and women were crying in shock.
Bonnie wasn't crying. Her throat was too tight with grief.
She had to get down there.
Devon had stubbornly stumbled to his feet, batting off medics, and was directing people towards the house, assisting the police in clearing a space for the chopper to land, his voice shaking only just slightly as he barked orders to the attending Foundation staff.
She had to get down there.
"Devon!" His head shot up, immediately spotting her in the dark. His arm was in a makeshift sling and his hair being tossed about by the downdraft of the landing helicopter. He hurried over.
She saw him swallow as he peered over the cliff straining to see in the dim light. "They'll do their best, Bonnie." His hand touching her arm.
She didn't look at him. "I know. I need to go down there, Devon." He didn't answer immediately and she looked at him. His face was a mask, hiding everything. She caught his eyes. "I need to go down there."
His fingers twitched where they made contact with the soft material of her dress. Then quietly, almost hoarse, "I will see what I can do." He turned and made his way towards the huddled group of would be rescuers.
She knew he'd throw his weight around, but even if she had to jump off this cliff herself, she would get down there. The two most important people in her life were teetering on the edge.
And she needed to be there to catch them.
xxxxx
Someone was holding his hand.
Soft skin wrapped around his own, a thumb? trailing across his knuckles, tracing circles, figure eights. He found it calming. The world was dark and confusing and he couldn't quite think straight.
It had stopped raining and the wind had left his hair alone for a while. But he was cold nonetheless. Cold and hurting.
There were noises. The sounds of footsteps, voices, words barked out in urgency. Other hands touched him and he flinched.
Something electronic started screaming.
Kitt?
His hand was let go.
"Kitt!"
Another electronic voice joined the first and suddenly the pain leapt up and swallowed him.
He fell.
And this time Kitt wasn't there to catch him.
xxxxx
The harness was tight and uncomfortable, but she didn't care.
The rescue team had not been happy in the slightest that they suddenly had to assist some lady scientist to the bottom of the cliff, but Devon had been adamant.
She didn't blame them. They didn't know that there were actually two lives hanging in the balance down here.
The moment her feet met rock, she was unstrapping herself and cursing her high heels. The team had already hurriedly set up lighting on the ledge, their first concern the limp form of Michael in the front seat of the Trans Am. The chopper hovered overhead, its spotlight targeting the entire scene as the medics attempted to reach him.
Kitt's grappling hook was still embedded in the cliffside, another member of the team securing additional lines of support to the Trans Am to prevent it from slipping further. The moment they had Michael out, they planned to drag the car backwards.
She had her own assessment to make before they did that. Kitt could be as fragile as any human being.
In frustration she yanked her shoes off and tossed them aside.
The ocean was unforgiving, the tide slowly coming in, each wave hitting closer and closer. As she watched, one wave dumped spray across the hood of the Trans Am. Something sparked in the dash, bright electrical light arcing across the black casing. A medic jumped and yelled.
Bonnie cried inside. Oh god, Kitt.
She hurried over, doing her best to keep out of the way of the medics.
And terrified what she would find.
The chopper's light was harsh and it reflected the colour red bright enough to scorch her retinas. Oh, Michael. They had managed to strap him into the Lifeflight stretcher with enough tubes and wires to start a distillery. All she could see was a tuft of his curly hair poking out amongst the wrappings.
But his blood was all over the car.
"Kitt?"
She didn't expect an answer. The dash was dark.
One of the men looked at her strangely, but she didn't care in the slightest. She reached inside the car, doing her best to ignore the red splattered everywhere amongst the sparkling of shattered glass, and toggled a switch, pressed a couple of buttons. "Kitt, can you hear me? Kitt!"
Nothing.
A wave sprayed her with seawater.
She yelled to one of the rescue team, the beat of the chopper drowning her voice out.
She didn't appreciate his answer.
"I don't care what you think. I need assistance in accessing the engine compartment, and I need it now!"
People always jump when they assume you're a mild mannered geeky type and suddenly you turn around and rip their heads off.
They continued to argue and time was getting short.
Kitt was drowning.
Bonnie was screaming. "I don't care about your priorities! This car contains an artificial lifeform as important as that man you just airlifted. Now you are not moving this vehicle until I have removed Kitt from the engine compartment!"
They obviously had no idea what she was talking about. Obviously thought she was half insane.
So she worked her own way around the car and attempted to wrench the hood from its housing. It didn't budge.
Damnit! She wanted to scream.
Water splashed on her face.
"God, please, listen to me!"
A hand wrapped around her shoulder and she was gently pushed aside. A bear of a man, dressed in the glow in the dark orange of the rescue team edged past her and with a grunt wrestled the warped hood up on its hinges. He held it there. "You might want to hurry, dear, the next wave will probably soak everything."
She would have smiled at him, but she was too tied in knots. She muttered a thankyou and reached over the engine compartment. She didn't need any tools; the CPU was designed to be removed in a hurry. Even Michael knew how to do it.
Michael.
She blinked back tears as she hurriedly unclipped connectors. "Kitt, if you can hear me, its Bonnie. I'm removing you from the car. E-Everything will be all right."
The sea sighed beneath the chassis and she couldn't help but see the black scorch marks of shorts where electronics had encountered seawater. She could only pray that Kitt hadn't drowned while she'd been arguing.
She flinched as a fingernail broke.
"Ma'am, you might want to hurry."
The ocean hissed at her and she saw it subsiding through the wheel arc. Her fingers flew over the connections.
"Uh, ma'am?"
Nearly there...
Last one. She reached for the CPU, her fingers wrapping around the MBS coated casing...
And she was grabbed from behind, yanked out of the path of a wave that swallowed the black Trans Am in a gush of hissing foam.
xxxxx
Michael yanked the car to a stop on the sand. "This satisfactory?"
"I would think so." Kitt let the grin into his voice. "Now eat your lunch."
Arched eyebrow. "Aye, aye, Captain."
"And watch for crumbs."
Michael grinned and Kitt watched as he relaxed back in the seat, grabbing his burger and fries. He stared out through the windshield at the waves as he ate.
Kitt had seen Michael watch the water for hours. He seemed to have a fascination with the ocean.
"Say, Kitt, how about we put the top down?
No, put the top up! Protect, must protect! Michael!
"The UV index today is extreme, Michael. I'm not sure that is a good idea."
"Aww, c'mon, Kitt. What's the surf without the sun?"
"A great deal healthier."
"Spoil sport." His driver thumbed the top release despite his warnings and the roof folded neatly back, letting the beach weather in. Michael blinked, putting on his sunglasses against the glare as the sun baked Kitt's upholstery.
"Risk taker."
"Hah! What's life without risk?"
"Safe."
"Life isn't safe, Kitt."
"It can be."
"No, it can't."
"Why not?"
"Because life is a game that everyone ultimately loses." Losinglosinglosinglosinglosing...
"That is a rather morbid way of looking at it, Michael."
"That's life, Kitt."
"I prefer not to think of it that way."
"Your choice."
There was silence for a moment, then Kitt asked, "Michael, what is wrong?"
"Wrong? There's nothing wrong."
"This case...something has been driving you...what is wrong?"
"I'm fine, Kitt."
"Michael, what have I told you about attempting to lie to me?"
Michael sighed. "Okay, okay, I surrender." He held up his hands. "Ferreni said something to me as I was bundling him up for the police. He claimed I was too late and that he had achieved his objectives. He rattled on about FLAG going down, the usual death threats and such, but this time...I don't know, Kitt, something doesn't feel right."
"And you've been searching the case files for clues as to what."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you ask me?"
Michael shrugged. "I did, sorta. You've been helping me with those name searches."
"Hammond and Paston. There are far too many matches for any conclusive clue as to such a person's involvement with Ferreni. I'm sorry, Michael."
Paxtonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
"I know, buddy, it's just...I don't know...something is nagging me, as if I should know the answer."
"I'm sure you will find the answer, you always do."
An eyebrow arched at his voice modulator. "Really, buddy, I didn't know you held my skills is such esteem." Poorly hidden smirk.
Dryly. "I have to, Michael, you're the only partner I have."
"What? You want another one?"
"One crumb maker is enough, thank you very much. And you can pick that piece of lettuce off the floor too."
Michael found the offending piece of vegetable matter and reached between his legs to grab it. With a suspicious smirk on his face he then brought the limp green bit of leaf to his mouth.
"Michael, what on earth do you think you are doing? That is disgusting."
"Checking to see how alert you are." The lettuce ended up in the empty burger bag.
"Hmph."
The weather was beautiful. Kitt idly scanned his driver as the man stretched himself out across the two front seats, his head pillowed by one door, his feet by the other. Kitt was hoping he would fall asleep at some point, get some rest, relax, but Michael was eyeing the case files again. Annoying things that they were.
He watched as with a sigh his driver reached over and snagged the top folder. It was particularly thick, its contents including a book full of a list of contacts Ferreni had made. The foolish man was dumb enough to keep records. It had already made the case easier to solve.
"Are you quite comfortable?"
"Actually come to think of it, I am." Michael grinned at him.
"You are going to get burnt."
"You worry too much."
"It's my job."
"Yeah, well, you do it too well."
"Michael, one of these days you're going to take a fall that I won't be able to save you from. Then what am I going to do?"
Absently while reading. "Kitt, you always catch me. You always save my sorry butt."
"Somebody has to, you certainly don't."
Michael frowned. "Are you saying I don't do my job properly?"
"Read your book, Michael." And Kitt clammed up.
For all of five minutes.
"You're going to get burnt."
"Kitt, shut up." Kitt, please...c'mon, honey, you can do it...Kitt!
Hmmm, well he would just wait until Michael fell asleep and then he would raise the top again.
It took him only a few seconds of snoring to realise that raising the top was impossible. Just about as impossible as his driver.
Michael was going to pay for this one, he could see it coming.
Kitt sighed.
xxxxx
Damnit, Kitt!
Bonnie felt like crying. The CPU had been compromised. Not by seawater, but by electrical discharge. Water had shorted Kitt's extremities and the current had arced, looping back into his CPU, burning as it travelled.
She had called in the semi, and she now sat in her chair, desperately fighting with broken circuits. "Please, Kitt, please..."
Devon had gone to the hospital with Michael, more to look after the younger man than for treatment himself, despite what the medics said.
The Trans Am was still at the bottom of the cliff, secured to prevent it from being washed away, but recovery delayed until daylight returned. The thought of leaving Kitt down there...she thanked the fates she had been able to retrieve him when she had.
He wouldn't have survived.
She had bruises on her side from when she landed, hands full of CPU, the large man she now knew belonged to the name Jeff, managing to pull her from the path of a wave that could have easily have swept her off the rock. She had thanked him, but then hurried to be pulled up the cliff face once again to safety. Kitt needed her.
"Goddamnit, Kitt! Please..."
She had been rerouting circuits for hours, desperately attempting to repair the damage. Even parts of his main processor had been compromised, possibly fatally. She had hooked him up to input and output, including the mobile voice module, but he had yet to respond to any of her prompts. Kitt had fought madly against the fire that had invaded him. Every surge suppressor had been activated and she found signs of relays shut off, circuits cut, it was as if Kitt had fled...and she couldn't find where too...
Hold on...just a minute...
She studied the readings of the diagnostic computer. What the-? A good percentage of his RAM was looping through his long-term memory module. She interfaced with his memory, cross-linking with his refurbished main processor. The graph blipped. Once. Again.
"Kitt, please...c'mon, honey, you can do it...Kitt!"
And suddenly the processor indicators lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, god, Kitt, can you hear me?"
There were a few seconds of heart breaking silence. Then...
"Bonnie?"
She burst into tears.
xxxxx
Michael Knight was a stubborn bastard.
That was all Devon could think. He sat in intensive care staring at his pale form, limp on the bed, a forest of wires and tubes branching out in all directions. Only Michael Knight could manage to survive a bullet wound to the chest followed by a plummet off a cliff.
Of course, it helped to have Kitt as a partner.
Devon sighed. Bonnie had rung earlier with the great news that Kitt had 'woken up'. Now they only had to wait on Michael.
Paxton. The bloody delinquent. He would see that the courts roasted him alive.
Only one question remained. How the hell had he managed to side step security so easily? He had made sure of the security arrangements himself. Checking and double checking to make sure their guests would be safe. He had even invited Michael and Kitt for that reason. He knew Kitt would pick up any problems long before the human security team.
And he had.
A lot of good it had done.
Devon stared at Michael's unconscious face. The angry red of sunburn sketching out two rings of paler skin where Michael had worn his sunglasses. In better circumstances it might had made him smile. It was so typical of the younger man, a delinquent in his own right. But now all that sunburn would do is cause more pain. Cream had been smeared over his burnt skin, particularly where the oxygen mask might abrade.
He looked so frail in the hospital gown.
Devon dropped his head into his hand.
xxxxx
"How does that feel, Kitt?"
"It feels embarrassing."
"I'm afraid it's the best we can do until the car is repaired."
"Michael is going to laugh at me again."
She smiled. "Let's hope so."
She lifted the portable unit she had housed Kitt in and carried him to her car. There was only one place Kitt wanted to be right now.
"Bonnie?"
"Yes, Kitt?"
"Did you know that the hosts of the party, Mr and Mrs Hammond, were related to Judge Paxton?"
She nearly dropped him. Shit.
"No, Kitt, I didn't. How did you find that out?"
"Michael had me doing a search on the Ferreni case for the names Hammond and Paston. I guess he misheard the last name. A corrected search brought up the relationship."
How the hell had they missed such an obvious security breach.
"Good work, Kitt. I'm sure Devon will be very interested in that little bit of information."
"After he has laughed at me too."
She had to smile.
xxxxx
"Michael, it is time you woke up."
Huh, Kitt? The sea breeze brushed across his face, dancing in his hair.
"Michael, if you don't wake up soon you'll be the colour of beetroot."
"Kitt?"
"Yes, Michael, wakey-wakey." The cry of a distant seagull.
"Huh?" He opened his eyes to blue sky...no, blue curtains. What?
"Michael?" Kitt's voice was gentle. And close.
"Kitt?" He attempted to raise his arm, looking for the source of his partner's voice. He found tubes and sticking tape, but no comlink. "Kitt?"
"I'm right here, Michael."
He turned his head. And sitting beside the bed on some weird looking contraption was a familiar looking black box. "Kitt?"
"You're not allowed to laugh this time. You have chest injuries." The flash of red light as his partner spoke was both welcome and chilling. Welcome because he was happy to see his partner, chilling because he was so out of place.
"Kitt, why are you here?"
"I wanted to see you." Simple answer.
"No-" His voice was hoarse and dry. "Where's the car?" Swallow and a sudden realisation as memory settled into place. Oh god. "Kitt, are you okay?" He struggled to sit up.
"For goodness sake, Michael I am fine. Lie down before I call a nurse and have you strapped down."
Michael's eyes widened, suddenly aware that Kitt was fully capable of seeing the threat through. He settled back on the bed. Not that he could have gotten very far. Apart from feeling weak as a newborn kitten, he had so many tubes and wires attached to him, he'd probably have to take half the wall with him to get out.
"Where are Bonnie and Devon?"
"Devon, I believe is chasing down Mr and Mrs Hammond, the people who hosted the party. It seems they arranged it for a reason other than for charity."
Michael frowned. "Hammond? Wasn't that-?"
"Yes, my search was successful."
The names clicked over in his head. Not Paston, Paxton. Damn, it was almost obvious. So much relying on one consonant. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before Kitt captured his attention again.
"And Bonnie is sleeping on the other side of your bed."
A brief frown and Michael turned his head. Sure enough, Bonnie was curled up in a chair, sleeping quietly.
He smiled slightly at the sight of her. He turned back to Kitt. "You sure you're okay, buddy?" A scream echoed in his mind, sparks flying, seawater rushing in.
"I am well, Michael, if a little short on mobility." A pause. "You need to rest."
"I do?" But even as he said it, he felt himself drifting. "Take me to the beach then. A little dose...of sun and surf." He smiled sleepily.
"I think you've had enough of both for the time being."
He continued to smile, eyelids drooping. "I know, but you still caught me. Told you I was right."
"You are always right, Michael, except when you are wrong."
But Michael didn't hear him, his mind drifting off to the sound of his partner's voice.
Kitt had caught him.
The sea breeze played with his hair as he slouched in the driver's seat, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his head lolling between the headrest and the door. The sun was warm, the surf crashing in the distance.
And he was safe.
xxxxxxxxxx
FIN.