Title: Milestones

Author: knightshade

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own Devon or any other Knight Rider characters. That honor belongs to Universal.

Summary: It's Devon's birthday and he can't help thinking about what might have been.

Author's Notes: This was written for Reoune's Birthday Challenge. It takes place during season 3 but builds on the events of Merchants of Death. It was betaed by the wonderful Tomy who, as always, has my deepest thanks.

Milestones

Devon shut the door to his suite, hoping to shut out the rest of the world with it. He'd had a hectic day filled with tiresome meetings, piles of paperwork, and one excessively nasty phone call with a disgruntled board member. All in all, not the way he preferred to spend his birthday. Not that it much mattered; he'd long ago stopped counting really.

Setting a kettle of water on the stove, Devon filled the infuser with his expensive loose tea and pulled down his mother's heirloom teapot from the cupboard. He could have just made himself a cup, but it didn't feel like afternoon tea without a proper pot. He wasn't in the habit of taking his tea alone – he often sat on the veranda with Michael or Bonnie when they were available. But Devon had been in the middle of the nasty phone call at tea time and now it was late enough to be approaching dinner. Besides, taking his tea alone suited his current mood.

While waiting for the water to boil, Devon loosened his tie and made his way into the study. He pushed back the top of his antique roll-top desk, comforted by the dry, soothing scent of old wood. He reached into one of the recesses in the back corner of the desk and retrieved two bundles of paper. Devon briefly considered the first – the love letters he had sent to Amelia Clermont, given back to him last year by her daughter. For the life of him, he still couldn't understand why Amelia had kept them. He just assumed that when one married, one was expected to discard such things. But for whatever reason, she had chosen not to. Even more confusing was that she had kept the letters but hadn't called him after she'd returned to the States. It left a bit of a hole in his heart. He had always believed that the reason she hadn't come to him after her marriage ended was that she had wanted to stay in Europe. A part of him had always hoped that somehow they would both end up in the right place at the right time.

The kettle began to whistle and Devon went into the kitchen to prepare his tea. As he poured the water into the pot, he couldn't help thinking about the first time he had met Amelia. He had quite literally bumped into her on the steps of the Capitol building in Washington. From that moment on it was clear to him that she was a singularly unique woman - so extraordinarily ahead of her time. No one had ever challenged him quite like she had. He couldn't help smiling when he thought about how he had had to justify even the most basic things - opening doors for her or offering his arm in escort. He remembered how special he had felt when he realized that she would suffer such courtesies only from him. To everyone else they must have seemed an odd couple, but they had had plenty of things in common - most importantly, a deep appreciation and respect for their differences.

Taking a tray with the teapot, a cup, and some small pastries with him into the main room, Devon settled back into the overstuffed leather couch. Pouring the tea, he tried to steer himself away from the self-indulgent brooding that milestones like birthdays seemed to bring out in him.

By and large he was happy with how his life had turned out. He had regrets, as he was sure most people did. Overall he felt he had every right to be proud of his choices, but as a young man he never would have imagined that he wouldn't get married. It had always been something he'd looked for – a partner to go through life with – but it just never seemed to work out for him. And it certainly didn't seem to be in the cards at this point. It was the biggest regret he had about his life.

Devon took a sip of his tea and set aside the bundle of letters he had sent to Amelia. He had no interest in reading the love-struck missives of his youth. He was certain he would find them embarrassing at the very least. Instead he untied the bit of cord that held the second bundle together. He sorted through the various envelopes with their familiar scrawling script until he found the one he was looking for. It was a card envelope of faded light blue. The card itself had yellowed with age. He carefully pulled it from the envelope, ignoring the ribald joke in French on the front, and flipped instead to the handwritten note inside.

Dearest Devon,

Happy birthday! I hope all is well. Europe is lovely. When are you going to get over your silly refusal to set foot on the Continent and join me? I'd love to take you out on the town in Paris. I guarantee we'd have a wonderful time. There is just so much to see and do. You should be here to share it with me.

I miss you.

Love always,

Amelia

Why hadn't he gotten over his dislike of Europe and joined her? At the time it had seemed so vitally important to be here, in the United States. He suspected that it was due to some of his more troubling experiences in the war, but he could have at least visited her. But he hadn't and then it was too late. Her letters had stopped coming. But they'd still had that chemistry the few times he had run into her after her divorce. He rather suspected that of all the women he'd dated in his life, she would have been the most likely not to be put off by the unpredictability of his life with the Foundation. In fact, he liked to think she'd be rather proud of the work they did. And part of him believed that if he had been part of her life, she never would have gotten in over her head with the arms dealers in Phoenix.

Devon was only mildly surprised when his reverie was interrupted by a knock at his door - though it was quite a bit earlier than he expected. He opened the door to find Bonnie standing in the hallway. He kept his smile to himself, noting that she had changed out of her coveralls. She wasn't dressed up enough that it would draw suspicion – at least not if he weren't already suspicious.

"Bonnie, come in," he said, stepping back from the door.

"Sorry to bother you, but there's a woman here who'd like to talk to you about a case."

Simple and direct, Devon thought. He'd been wondering how they were going to go about luring him in. He had rather thought that Michael would come up with some elaborate scheme. Devon had to give them credit – they had been very secretive about the whole thing. But they seemed to forget that they worked for a former OSS operative. Everyone had politely wished him a happy birthday this morning. Michael and Bonnie had said that they would take him out to dinner at a restaurant of his choosing this weekend. But he wasn't fooled. He'd caught Bonnie flipping off her monitor a few times when he'd entered the lab. And there was the time last week when he had clearly heard them talking about a party and the conversation had come to an awkward and abrupt halt when he walked in.

"I don't suppose it's something that could wait until tomorrow?" he asked, thinking that it might be fun to toy with them and play hard to get.

"Probably, but she does seem a little upset."

Devon caught the tilt of her eyes – up and to the left. In most people that was a textbook sign that they were lying. "Well then. I guess I shouldn't keep her waiting. No rest for the weary, I'm afraid." Devon plucked his jacket off the couch and crossed to the bathroom to properly straighten his tie.

Bonnie spotted the teapot and letters on the coffee table. "Is everything alright?" she asked, uncertainty flashing briefly across her face.

"Oh yes. Quite. It just got later than I expected. And I feel out of sorts if I miss afternoon tea entirely."

"If you wanted to have the evening to yourself, I could just take her information," she said, looking less than convinced.

He briefly contemplated taking the out she was offering. But they had gone through all the trouble of planning him a surprise party, he should at least attend. "No. No. I'd be happy to meet with her."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Bonne said, relief evident in her smile as they both stepped into the hallway.

Devon shut the door behind him, deciding that he was glad for the interruption. He offered Bonnie his arm and felt his spirits lift as they headed downstairs. Perhaps a surprise party was just the thing for him. There was no reason to sit around brooding like an old man and dwelling on the things he didn't have.

He may not have ever married, but somehow he'd managed to find himself blessed with a wonderful family.

-knightshade

May 17, 2005