He'd been swept away.
Completely so.
It was disturbing to see the man this way.
Comatose and unresponsive. His entire body was gripping onto a lifeline that was fragile enough that if tugged too hard it could snap.
Kitt's mind raced.
His attention fell back onto the man's condition, onto that fragile lifeline tensing as every system within the man fought savagely under his skin; briskly barking out details and instructions to the young paramedic attending urgently to Michael's injuries.
Naturally, it wouldn't do any good if the man didn't fight long enough until they made it to the hospital. Unfortunately, some systems were failing him already and Kitt had a suspicion as to who was the main culprit.
'Don't give up, Michael.' Kitt internally mourned.
The man's body was fighting to its last breath but as for the man himself…something far deeper than what bullets can destroy had been broken. Something Kitt suspected not even he could make right.
"He's not going to make it." The paramedic yelled over his shoulder to the driver.
'Over my blown gaskets.' Kitt growled to himself. He would not allow Michael to give up this easily — He would not allow the man to make that choice whether it was by will or not.
If the computer itself needed to fight the very broken systems of the human body and convince it to keep pumping the vital substance that was blood…He would.
Throughout the whole drive, Kitt continued to yank and tug the man toward safety. Keeping the paramedic on his toes.
There had been no time for formalities, Kitt found it helpful that the paramedic viewed it similarly as the computer continued to aid where he could as a disembodied voice that had somehow boarded the ambulance. The paramedic never questioned it. Catching on quite quickly; the two always seemed to agree on what needed to be done next.
They shared a common goal. Keep the bleeding man alive, that alone was strong enough to overcome far lesser important questions like what Kitt was, or how he'd "boarded."
Shuffling from one vital sign to the other and uttering vocal instructions, sometimes the anguished computer broke down in a few static sobs as pressure began to well up inside his CPU. Usually, the outbursts were not long enough to interrupt his instructions in any significant way but it was enough for Kitt to start spiraling toward hopelessness.
It was only after the arrival at the hospital that the torment came to a sequential end.
Michael was rushed inside, surgery was underway.
Breaking away from the ambulance's company, Kitt limped into the parking lot. Finding no sense of pride in his contributions. Not yet at least. The little he and the young paramedic had done had made a desirable effect thus far but the rest lay in the gifted hands of surgeons and doctors.
He was of no use now.
He roamed the lot, slipping in and out of spaces, unable to quench his sickening worry. His engine was misfiring at the prospect of an irreparable loss and a terrible trembling striking his bearings all at once.
He was a mess.
Not the usual upright beacon shining forth around the crashing waves of chaos.
Maybe the bullet had ripped far more than just flesh…inflicting touchless wounds in the computer's being.
He continued to crawl along the hospital's lot until the fall of the day. The Trans Am sought the solitude and quietude of night while deep within the bowels of the hospital, Michael continued to fight, alone.
Kitt internally flinched, briskly turning into a different area of the lot as a few pings from Bonnie bounced untouched in his processor.
He didn't bother to reply. He didn't bother to even touch the message.
There was little to say, and far less anything she could come up with could soothe him now. Perhaps Devon could…but the least he needed to do was to have her force his mind to sink into a soundless sleep. One he didn't dare take if it meant fast-forwarding to a loss that would never be mended.
Instead, he found comfort in the countless families huddled tightly in packed minivans awaiting more news under the sickly yellow of worn lot lamps. Or wallowed in pain with the ones that wailed in the back seat of an empty city cab.
Eventually, he found the nearby street alleys enticing, calling out to him. Solitary fortresses where he could seek shelter for now; ignoring the countless calls from FLAG to regroup at the mobile HQ altogether.
Here he found the burning barrels illuminating the faces of the forgotten; hopeful. Bright blind beacons shone through the darker and colder hours of the night. Something he could hang onto, and let it birth a few positive outlooks in his interior.
"Lost?"
An old man grunted hoarsely from his seat on top of folded cardboard, pulling a blanket closer over his wide shoulders. The man's sudden words pulled the wounded Trans Am out of his haze.
Kitt slowly approached, turning off the engine, and listened to the blistering coals of the fire crackle and hiss from the barrel's depths.
"I think I am." The Trans Am replied in a whisper, more to himself than the old man eyeing him thoughtfully. His sheen caught the warm flames, the outstretched "hands" flickering brightly as though he too was made of warm glow.
"Hmmm." The man remarked. "You've strayed far from the lot." The man chuckled.
Kitt flashed his scanner mildly surprised.
"I didn't see the point in staying there now…" Kitt answered more out of habit than anything else. He felt his insides sting. The motherboard passed a hard shudder through the system as a whole. Perhaps he'd been better off waiting in the lot — or probably not. The moment Michael had been taken to the surgical room Kitt had cut off his connection to the comlink. He found it quite tortuous to eavesdrop on the flutter of his struggling heart, a death sentence for the computer if it ever came to a standstill.
Then a thought hit him odd, like the mildew that caught over his "skin" when he spent a gleeful night alone under the stars.
"How do you know I wandered off of the hospital grounds?" Kitt questioned skeptically, running a thorough scan of the surroundings and most importantly the man's background. Could he be an informant of sorts? Someone, to finish off Michael as he'd proved to have survived this far?
His thoughts angled from logic to conspiratorial outcomes, his odds calculator discarding logic altogether as unprocessable grief cut through him.
"Most people do." The man answered with a wet cough. "Most people do. — Never seen such broken people."
" — But, aren't you also one of those people?" Kitt asked, cringing after the words left his digital "lips". Hoping he'd not hit a nerve. The last thing he needed was to be careless and get into trouble now. He hadn't a clue what he'd do in Michael's absence. What he could say to stitch an excuse and flee to safety.
As if reading his distress, the man chuckled.
"I think they have it far worse." The man replied. "You have it far worse."
"How?" Kitt cut off the man, the words landing between tangible and intangible. All his thoughts crisscrossed at once as a sinister outlook continued to loom over his mind.
"You've lost a loved one haven't you?"
Kitt fell silent. His processor froze into place. A rush of warm air escaped the engine, a flutter of a stalling cough bringing him back from the mental fog.
" — Or it was a close second." The man corrected with pity in his voice. "Anyhow, my loved one resides with me. She's gone, but not like yours. She's off to find the evening's catch." The man pulled his blanket tighter around his chest, fiddling with the masterful stitching on its borders.
'Too close of a second…or could I be wrong?' Kitt thought. Something was healing in those words. In the man's words. Something treating his broken heart and putting a pin on unanswered questions and altered possibilities. It HAD been a close second. Michael had made it to the hospital just in time, and while the surgery was yet to prove fruitful, the man continued to breathe. Continued to exist. That was enough. That was enough of a bright beacon amidst the storm to ground him. For now —
They sat (or stood) in silence for a while longer before Kitt decided to break the eager scratching of the fire gnawing off the split woodwork tossed into its fiery mouth.
"I'd like to repay you." Kitt politely squeaked.
The man eyed the Trans Am curiously.
"I haven't done anything worth repayment." The man grunted with a shake of his head.
" — but you've spoken a vital truth. My loved one still lives…for now…so I shouldn't mourn just yet." Kitt concluded. Or perhaps he shouldn't mourn as hard…
The man's eyes lazily settled over Kitt's idling scanner.
"I never said that."
" — but you're implying it. That is the difference between you and the others, isn't it? You've lost your home, job…but you haven't lost your loved one…not yet…something worth fighting much more for than all those things." Kitt's voice grew in pitch as though tears were spilling out from his very radiator — and welling up in his voice box.
Michael was alive. Struggling but alive. He knew he would sacrifice it all if it meant saving his life. For now, he wasn't completely broken, so long as that heart continued to beat, as weak as that might be.
The man briskly stood, taking a few shaky steps before he rested a balmy hand on the driver's door and gazed attentively at the tinted glass.
"Let's go get a drink. Sounds like you might need a few swigs." The man grinned with a slight nod of his head.
Kitt found the proposition endearing but it would be difficult to agree to such an arrangement.
"I'd like that but I can't."
The man laughed.
"One swig never does any harm."
"While that is true in many cases, it might not be fitting for an automobile…such as myself." Kitt proudly announced, finding his voice partially jammed behind his voice box.
The man furrowed his brows.
"Perhaps you 'ought to lay down." He remarked somewhat concerned. "Get some shut-eye till the news hits." He added, retreating his arm back to the warmth beneath the thick folds of his blanket. A bitter breeze traveled along the narrow alley.
"You're probably right," Kitt replied, somewhat sheepishly. It would take up too much time to explain, or this wasn't the right moment to be confessing his identity of being a computerized car. " — but I'll take you up on that swig someday."
He only hoped he'd be able to bring Michael along.
Kitt winced.
For now, he'd let those thoughts fall at his sides. Tossing the possibility of losing the man for a while to catch his bearings. To breathe. Settle down and allow his processors to relax until the next fight. Whenever and whatever that could be.
The man smiled, satisfied with the answer.
"The name's, Rod."
"I'm Kitt, It was nice meeting you."