Michael continued his pivot until he was facing Garthe. Garthe swung at him, but Michael ducked. Then it was Michael's turn: he came up swinging, landing a solid hit right on Garthe's face. The courtroom erupted into chaos as the two men began to brawl.

"How dare you take my sister from me."

Michael couldn't understand how Garthe could think of his sister as an object to be possessed. Or why he thought she'd want anything to do with him after how he had treated her.

"You threw her out a window!"

"She deserved –"

Michael cut Garthe off. "Melissa was 10! She was just a kid. She couldn't possibly have done anything to deserve being thrown out a window by you or anyone else."

The two men continued throw punches at each other, some landing but none solidly enough to end the fight. Michael's goal was to keep Garthe in the courtroom, to prevent any attempt at escape. He could see the look in Garthe's eyes when he realized that court security hadn't shown up yet. Garthe broke free and ran out the door by the judge's bench. Michael followed right behind, tackling him in the hallway. They rolled around on the floor, struggling.

"And then when you kidnapped her a couple of months ago, you beat her up. And left her to die."

"That was my sister's fault."

"How on Earth –"

It was Garthe's turn to cut Michael off. "She chose you over me. Disloyalty comes at a price."

"You can't force someone to love you, Garthe. Especially when you mistreat and bully them like you've always mistreated and bullied Melissa."

Both men were now standing, panting from the exertion.

"They all chose you! Father. And my sister. Even Mr. Miles." Garthe emphasized each name with a punch.

Michael ducked each one. "That should tell you something, Garthe. About what people really think about you."

Michael was now deliberately goading Garthe. First, he didn't want Garthe blurting out what Wilton Knight had done. There were few people who knew Michael had a different face than the one he was born with. Even the folks who helped Dr. Wesley with the surgery assumed they were recreating his original face, not giving him someone else's.

Secondly – and more importantly right now – he didn't want Garthe to find the judge's chambers. There, he would find Michael's clothes and his wallet . . . with his ID. That would almost guarantee Garthe could make his escape. But if he were angry enough, Garthe would stay and fight. Fortunately, Garthe operated almost entirely on emotion. It was almost too easy for Michael to push his buttons.

"I can't believe Father gave you everything he should have given me. What did he see in you?"

"Everything he wanted from a son worthy of the name Knight."

Garthe closed in to grapple with Michael. They each landed a few more good hits on the other man. Then Garthe managed to knock Michael down. Michael skidded a few feet away, too far away to stop Garthe from making a break for it. But before Garthe could take advantage of his momentary edge, court security – finally – showed up. A quartet of guards pointed guns at both Michael and Garthe.

"Hands up! Both of you!"

Michael raised his hands from where he sat on the floor. Garthe considered his options and, realizing the odds weren't in his favor, raised his hands, too.

"On the ground, face down! Now!"

Michael was already on the ground, so he slowly rolled over, hands still over his head. He was careful not to make any sudden moves. No point in upsetting the men with the guns. Garthe laid down, making sure to stay as far away from Michael as possible.

"Connor, cuff 'em both."

Taking no chances, one of the guards handed his gun to another guard, and then came over. He handcuffed Garthe first, and then Michael. Both men had their hands cuffed tightly behind their backs. Garthe said nothing; he only glared at the four guards . . . and at Michael.

"Let's go," said the guy who was clearly in charge.

The guards brought Michael and Garthe back to the courtroom. The guy in charge radioed to let them know the two Knights were in custody. The bailiff came in shortly after.

"Which of you is Garthe Knight?" asked the bailiff.

Garthe and Michael both said at the same time, "He is."

The bailiff sighed. "Let's not make this difficult. Now, which of you is Michael Knight?"

"I am," they both said again at the same time.

The bailiff shook his head. "Al, look inside his," and he pointed at Garthe, "jumpsuit. Tell me the serial number printed on the collar."

Al – the guy who had been in charge of the group who captured Garthe and Michael – checked and read out a number. "86545221. I'll check the other one next."

"Don't bother. I made sure to give the two men distinctly different numbers. Michael Knight's number starts with a 4, not an 8. Since both men still have on their jumpsuits, we'll go with that man being Garthe Knight and this man being Michael Knight." He pointed them out.

"You could ask Melissa. She can tell us apart," Michael said mildly. He wanted Melissa to see Garthe in handcuffs. And with the lovely shiner Michael had given him.

"Good idea. I'll go get her. In the meantime, Al, you can take off his handcuffs." The bailiff pointed at Michael.