"I guess they want me alive," Michael said with dry humor. He really did find it funny that some of the very same people who'd tried to kill him just a couple years ago now needed him alive.

"Michael?" KITT prompted, bringing Michael's attention back to their current problems.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I want you alive too," KITT said, with such genuine warmth that Michael felt himself choking up. Funny how the same exact words were both a threat and a promise [little kids sitting on the highest platform of a playground, pinkie promises, and dead-end friends]

"Lucky for us I'm pretty hard to kill," Michael said. He meant it as a joke, but it came out too heavy, too much like an attempt to reassure KITT of something even Michael himself wasn't sure of. Oh, he was confident in his ability to keep himself alive, alright, but he was terrified of the implications of Zachary wanting him alive. Devon said that Wilton had been one of Zachary's victims. Did that mean he knew about KITT? And if he did, how much did he know? Was he aware of what, of whom, KITT had become over the years? Michael doubted it, especially since Zachary had been out of the loop for a while.

Not that that changed anything. It didn't matter what Zachary had managed to learn about KITT back when he was just the Knight Industries Two Thousand, an incredibly complex body of code and circuits. Zachary had operatives crawling everywhere, and no doubt one or more of them had gotten back to him with news of KITT. Besides, Zachary wanted revenge. Tonya had been his lover, and he held Michael responsible for her death. Even if he had been able to warn her about KITT's windows being bulletproof, he doubted she would have believed him. She would have pulled the trigger anyway. She'd been smarter that time too, aiming for his heart. Michael hadn't killed her, but Zachary wasn't one to argue the semantics of blame. Zachary wanted him alive to gloat, probably. His second death would be slow and painfully permanent. [lighters flick and a car door slams too close – he still jumps, still has to reign in his racing heart]

So now Michael had to deal with getting Gina's schematics back, keeping himself safe, and making sure nothing happened to KITT. Hadn't he asked for this? High on the successful closure of his last assignment, bragging to Devon about feeling like he could take on the world? Me and my big mouth, he complained to himself.

It almost had been an easy case, too. Thefts like Gina's happened often enough, and it was usually just a simple matter of breaking in somewhere and stealing the schematics back. Weekend jobs, if that. The hardest part was supposed to be the stakeouts, waiting and watching and gathering intel. And sure, someone had shot at them outside Triple-M, but even that wasn't terribly abnormal. Why go looking for unicorns or even zebras when horses were the most obvious answer? When KITT told him that the bullets weren't normal, he'd assumed they were just some specialized thing. Armor piercing or designed to disintegrate on impact or even incendiary, even though he hadn't heard anything to suggest the latter.

That sort of thing happened all the time. The aggressor would shoot at the victim with no intention to kill or even hurt them. Scare them off, get them to give up. Michael was used to being shot at by now, and he certainly didn't give up that easily. As long as persisting didn't jeopardize anyone he cared about, Michael never would back down.

KITT had waited until Gina was safely back at her home before telling Michael about the bullets. Morbadine, an exotic tranquilizer. When KITT asked why the sniper had used such odd bullets, the gears in Michael's mind started turning. With a cold thrill, he realized something horrifying: "I think our sniper was aiming for me." And just like that, their simple little case of schematic theft wasn't so simple.

Michael pulled into the semi ready to give Devon a hard time about that twist, but Devon cut him off. Devon was tense, upset about something. Michael could only recall seeing Devon so worked up once before, when Becky came too close to dying for anyone's comfort.

As was his way, Devon didn't prevaricate. He spoke frankly and honestly when he told Michael that, in so many words, he'd fucked up. Everyone had just assumed that Zachary wasn't a problem anymore, but he was back. And he had operatives everywhere. Operatives who'd exhumed Michael Long's grave and reported back to Zachary that it was empty.

Michael sighed and massaged his forehead. He'd honestly started to believe he was done with people from his past breezing in and threating to undo all the work he'd put into burying Michael Long. Like he told Devon, though, he'd never been a quitter and that wasn't going to change now.

April presented him with what looked like an ordinary gold pendant and explained that it would override KITT's shutdown protocols. As long as the CPU was still plugged into the car, KITT would be brought back online. It also doubled as an emergency signal should Michael end up outside of scanner or commlink range, or should communication become impossible. Michael wondered how long ago that pendant had been made, whose idea it had been. Although both Devon and April kept saying that all this was for if Michael and KITT got separated, if KITT was shut down – if, if, if – but contingencies like this weren't in place for ifs. They were there for when shit went down. And boy was shit ever going down now.

Because Michael had to shut KITT down to protect Gina as Simpson lorded it over him. "Let's see how tough you are without that car of yours," he goaded, grinning from behind his gun. Michael would have decked him then and there if he knew it wouldn't get Gina killed. He went along with Simpson. Let the man have his fun. Michael had no intention of letting either Simpson or Zachary get away, although in an incredibly convoluted, perverted way, Michael owed everything he'd become as Michael Knight to Cameron Zachary. He quickly buried that thought. He could wrestle with that particular crisis later, when the only gun to his head was the one in Tonya Walker's ghastly hands.

. . .

Michael hated having to shut KITT down. He knew people looked at the car and saw just the components, just the mechanical and electronic workings of machine and computer. To Michael, it felt almost like pulling someone off of life support; the only difference there was that KITT could be brought back online. But you didn't just shut down your partner. Not when, in Michael's mind, KITT was as human as he could be.

He supposed it wouldn't be so bad if he didn't know that KITT hated being shut down, too. They'd talked about it during one of their many hours-long drives between assignments. The first time KITT had displayed such curiosity about the human condition, Michael had humored him. He figured KITT was just making friendly conversation, the way two near-strangers do when they're stuck in a car for hours on end. As time went by, though, Michael realized KITT wasn't just making idle conversation or intentionally frustrating him with questions he struggled to answer for himself. KITT was trying to make sense of the world around him. Despite the vast wealth of knowledge programmed into his databanks and the ease with which he could access new data, KITT wanted to know about the things he couldn't find in textbooks or spreadsheets.

. . .

Two months after he'd crashed through the Foundation's garage door, Michael found himself settling into something of a life he might be able to call his own. It wasn't a bad gig, after all. So far, none of the assignments had been worse than anything he'd seen in Vietnam or with the police. Nothing too taxing, lots of pretty women. And he got to travel. Sure, he had to jump when Devon said jump, and he had almost no free time, and his vacations were almost always ruined or ended before they even began but

Well, at least he wasn't dead. He'd always known that dying young was part of the risks he took as a cop, but he certainly wasn't ready to die young. Hadn't he, though? Died young? He couldn't see his mom, Stevie, or any of his old friends. He had to keep Michael Long dead in order to keep them safe.

He shifted in his seat and shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. He could get stuck going in circles for hours until shooting himself in the face seemed like a good idea. He stretched as best he could, arching his back off the backrest. He'd have to stop soon anyway.

"What's on your mind?" Michael jumped at the sudden voice. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Right. The car. The computer in the car. KITT? That sounded right.

"Whaddaya want?" he asked, breathing harder than he would have liked, heart racing.

"You seemed restless," the AI said calmly. Michael wondered if the thing always sounded so damn calm. Was it programmed to be calm all the time?

"I've been drivin' for a little while now," he said, a bit peeved.

"Four hours and seventeen minutes, to be exact."

"Smartass."

"What's on your mind?" KITT asked again. "My data suggests that humans often find it easier to solve their problems when they discuss those problems."

Michael opened his mouth to tell KITT to shut up, then closed it again. "I don't think this is a problem that can be solved at all," he said, voice pained. Then, more acidly, he added, "And besides, you're just a computer. You wouldn't understand.

"Perhaps let me be the judge of that?" KITT sounded almost … sympathetic now. Too kind, too caring.

Michael drummed his fingers along the sides of the steering wheel, mulling it over. On the one hand, he knew KITT was right: talking about problems like this, even ones without solutions, often made them easier to bear, less sharp. On the other hand, he was talking to a computer in a car. A computer that had been programmed to, for all intents and purposes, babysit him. On the third hand, what did he really have left to lose? Not much.

"When you join the army, the police, whatever … there are just risks you accept," he began, a little hesitantly and feeling foolish. "You know you could get hurt, your partner could get killed, or hell, even your family might end up a target." His family had never been targeted, but he'd seen it happen to an acquaintance on the force. "Funny enough, you start feeling invincible after a while. You never say it outright, but it gets in your head that shit like that only happens to other people, yknow?" He paused; a mistake.

"No, Michael, I don't know," KITT said. Still no sign of accusation or cruelty or anything other than that gentle curiosity.

"Of course you don't," Michael said, shaking his head. Not only was KITT just a computer, it hadn't even been online for all that long. He doubted the programmers had included much data on human existential crises. "That was a rhetorical question, anyway."

"Please continue."

"You get so confident; so sure of yourself and your abilities, of your partner. And then, the one thing you hadn't even thought to plan for happens. Then your partner's dead and Tonya's getting away with the microchip design." He dragged a hand through his hair, biting back on the flood of words and tears. "And then you're dead too," he finished in a small, hollow, tremulous voice. "You're dying there in the desert and the last thing you see is the stars and you think, 'well hey, at least the stars are still up there'." He choked off a sob, pressing the knuckles of his right hand firmly to his lips as he started to shake.

. . .

It hadn't even really been that long ago, Michael realized as he gunned KITT toward Gina's home. He needed to make sure she was okay before he went after Simpson and Zachary. Simpson had threatened Gina, too. KITT had mentioned his dislike for being shut down, but Michael had to brush him off. They didn't have time for anything right now. Zachary couldn't get away again; this case was personal now.

Michael left KITT to park himself in Gina's driveway as Michael vaulted from the car and sprinted in through Gina's open door. He froze when she turned to face him, gun in hand. For an awful split-second eternity, he was back in the desert, and Gina's brown hair looked bleach-blonde. The illusion shattered when he noticed the tremble in Gina's hands as she talked a big game about killing him. She wasn't a killer. Not like Tonya. He talked to distract her as he slunk forward, then pulled the gun from her hand, careful to keep it pointed well away from himself. "You're not a killer," he said coldly. It did complicate things, though, he thought as she sobbed against his chest, stroking her hair. Blackmail always complicated things. All the more reason to see Simpson and Zachary hang for their crimes, really.

The rest of the case was as simple as it could have been. Unicorns and zebras turned out to be horses in costumes and stage makeup. Michael hoped word of Zachary's arrest would spread to his operatives, colleagues, and contacts; maybe make them think twice before doing anything too stupid. Hey, he could hope.

Michael bid Gina farewell and wished her all the best in her new life. He told her it wasn't all that bad once you got used to your new name. Once you got used to not being able to tell your family you love them. It was temporary for her, thankfully. Once Zachary's little empire was too scattered to be a threat, she could go home.

"I want you to have this," Gina said. She handed over Mighty Mouth, the stupid little bear that had started this whole mess. "Something to remember me by." She winked, then accompanied the federal agents to the waiting car. Something to remember you by, huh? As if Michael would ever forget her: Gina Adams, the second woman to point a gun in his face at Cameron Zachary's command, and the second woman to fail to kill him. Oh well. KITT was going to be thrilled to see Mighty Mouth.

"Gina had a little parting gift for ya, pal," Michael said as he joined KITT. It was a pointless thing to do given KITT's sensors, but Michael held the bear behind his back.

"Oh, don't tell me –"

Michael held Mighty Mouth up like it wasn't a cursed object. "Cmon, KITT! Someone to talk to when I'm busy!"

"Busy!" KITT scoffed as Michael backed the car down Gina's driveway. The agents' car was long gone by then. "You mean when you're too occupied with your flirting."

"I don't get the chance to flirt very often," Michael pouted. "What you call flirting is actually very delicate intelligence gathering!"

"I regret to inform you that I must concede your point there," KITT said after a moment. "However, I will not stoop so low as to speak to that bear."

"I can't say I blame ya," Michael said as Mighty Mouth spouted off another near-obscenity. Michael turned south on the highway, heading away from the Foundation. Devon and the paperwork could wait a little while longer.

"KITT, I'm sorry I had to shut you down today," Michael said. "I know how much you hate it."

"Simpson didn't give you much of a choice," KITT reminded him.

"No, he didn't, but still. Making someone do something you know they don't want to do is never fun." He looked around, checking the flow of traffic and, more importantly, checking for any police cars. Content that he wouldn't be endangering anyone or attracting any undue attention, he floored it. When they'd gotten away from Simpson, KITT had mentioned one of the things he hated about being shut down was not being able to move. Michael couldn't keep the speed up for very long because they were approaching an onramp, so he slowed to the pace of the cars now around them.

. . .

Michael jerked his hands off the wheel like it burned him when it started to turn in his hands without his input. In his peripheral vision, he saw 'manual' go dark as 'auto' lit up. KITT had taken control of the car without his permission. "I thought I told you to never do that!" he said.

"You did, but, in accordance with my programming, I believe that you're in no condition to drive right now," KITT said as it brought the car to a stop on the shoulder of the deserted road.

Chest heaving, Michael glared at the dash. He wanted to yell and scream and take it all out on the car, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak; his tongue leaden in his mouth. He hugged himself tightly and curled inward until his head rested between the wings of the steering wheel. He tried so hard to explain to KITT what hurt, pleading with the AI to please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease understand. He let himself come undone in this peculiar, near-indestructible sanctuary, words jumbled and gasped out between sobs.

All the while, he heard KITT's voice. He didn't know what the AI was talking about, just knew that KITT talked with him.

. . .

Michael never, in a million years, would have guessed that KITT remained conscious, even he was shut down. He couldn't imagine what that felt like, trapped in an unending void, unable to do anything about it. When he'd been unconscious, it didn't matter to him that he couldn't move or talk, because he hadn't been aware of the passage of time or the fact that he wasn't aware of anything.

"KITT, what's being shut down feel like?" Michael asked. "And don't try and dodge the question, either. Help me understand."

"It's …" The modulator flickered soundlessly a couple times, and Michael wondered briefly if something had been damaged during shutdown. "If I had to assign a human emotion to it, I'd call it nightmarish. Being shut down like that cuts off all input from the outside world. While I can bring myself back online, I have no way of knowing if it's safe to do so." Michael shuddered at that and stroked the dash reassuringly. Bonnie had given him shit for that when she'd noticed the spot he'd accidentally rubbed smooth, just where the top of the dash curved down and gave way to instrument panels. "I have no way of knowing if you are safe, either, Michael," KITT continued. "My one purpose is to protect you."

And there's the clincher: Michael had always thought KITT was just responding to his programming when he said stuff like that, and KITT consistently denied any capacity for emotional responses, but Michael recognized guilt when he saw it. The AI could deny he felt anything until he blew a circuit, but Michael knew it was all bullshit. Jealousy, anger, joy, sorrow, guilt… KITT felt it all, miraculous oddity that he was.

"I don't make that very easy, do I?" Michael asked.

"If it were that easy, it'd be your mom!" a squeaky voice piped up from the passenger seat, scaring the shit out of Michael.

"Nobody asked you!" he and KITT chorused. Letting KITT take control of the car, Michael tugged apart the bear's Velcro seam, found the battery compartment, and popped out the batteries. "Peace and quiet," he grumbled as he tossed the batteries in the glove box.

"I thought you said you were going to get rid of that thing," KITT said.

"Yeah, but what's a near-death experience without a souvenir?" Michael joked. "But seriously, KITT. I am sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again, and I can't promise I'll be any easier to babysit, because we both know I'd be lying to you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Michael," KITT said, some of his usual levity returning.