Cyberkat's Asylum: Knight Rider Fan Fiction

Christmas Knight
by Sarah Stodola
Archived with the author's permission.

December, 1994

The cold winter air was still and peaceful. In the towns, church bells rang and sleigh bells tinkled merrily. There, people laughed and children shouted happily, for it was nearly Christmas.

Here, however, in the woods just south of Yosemite National Park, no sounds echoed but those of the native birds and animals. Snowbirds twittered quietly, and little striped chipmunks chattered as they hunted for a last-minute meal before going into hibernation for the winter. The sun shone on a good foot of snow.

Then a sound started, growing steadily louder as the source came closer. The birds stilled and the chipmunks hid, as hoofbeats became audible to human ears. A few seconds later, a sleek black Shagya-Arab horse cantered around a bend in the trail. Entering a clearing he slowed and stopped in front of a two-story log cabin, which, strangely enough, had no smoke coming out of the chimney on this chilly morning.

His rider, a leanly built, dark-haired man riding bareback and bridle-less, raised his eyebrows at no sign of life in the cabin.

"Maybe they went somewhere," he remarked.

The horse turned his head to see his partner. "But Sunny said they'd be here," he answered, puzzled. "It doesn't make sense that they wouldn't be."

The human gave a rather lopsided grin, looking at the sky in gentle amusement. "Lesson number one in how the real world works, buddy," he replied. "People don't always tell you everything they're gonna do. Mike and Sunny will be back. They said they'd be here and they will be. Just not yet."

The robot's only reply was a sigh. The man grinned wider and swung himself off the horse's back into the snow. To see the agility he displayed with the act, a casual observer would never know he was nearly forty-three years old. He plowed through to the cabin's porch, his white sweater gleaming with the sunlight reflected by the snow and accentuating laughing bright blue eyes. The artificial equine watched him for a moment, then followed him.

The horse looked up at his friend, who was now perched on a snow-bare section of railing. "Perhaps," he said after a couple of minutes.

The human smiled down at him, and brushed a piece of forelock away from his eye. He started to reply, but just then, more hoofbeats echoed from the trail. Both glanced over to see a golden-colored stallion come into the clearing.

The new arrival slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell, but regained his balance just in time. The palomino Arab-Quarter scrambled to a standing position, his rider gripping for dear life to the English saddle. Once his mount was steady, the younger man vaulted off, nearly losing his own footing, then looked up towards his worried guest, shoving blond hair out of his face. "I'm okay," he answered the other's unspoken question.

"Really. How are you doing, Michael?" He had a midwest accent.

Michael jumped off the porch railing, heading for his twenty-four-year-old friend. He had a California accent, but an easy-going slang remenisient of Brooklyn. "Yo, Mike," he called back, greeting him cheerfully. "How's life?"

While the two friends with the same first name swapped jokes and greetings, the black robot-horse went over to the golden alien-horse and carefully pulled on the bridle, removing it for the other, who, unlike himself, though Kitt usually did utilize his mouth, really *needed* his jaw free to speak.

"Thanks, Kitt," the palomino replied once the bit was out. "I hate that thing, but we can't look too unusual when we're in town."

Kitt hung the bridle on a tree branch for the humans to notice. "Are you sure you're all right, Sunny? That was quite some fall you nearly took."

"Sure," Sunny said. "I am capable of taking care of myself, you know."

Kitt looked away for a moment, just slightly embarrassed. "I'm used to looking out for Michael, I suppose I tend to carry that over to all my friends."

The two humans came over and Mike quickly undid the saddle, than carried both into the shed at the side of the house. He came back, asking, just like Kitt, "Are you okay, Sunny?"

Sunny sighed. "I'm just fine, Mike. No need to worry about me."

The blond man frowned. "Are you sure?"

Sunny snorted, tossing his white mane. "Yes."

Michael got the hint before his friend did. "I think he's okay," he assured Mike. "Let's go in before we freeze to death."

Kitt and Sunny started off, and both men went into the cabin.

The horses walked through the woods in companionable silence until the alien finally said, "Thanks, Kitt. For caring enough to worry."

The robot looked at his friend, dark eyes smiling. "Of course," he simply replied.

The two humans sat by a roaring fire with a checkers board. Michael frowned at the game. He was losing, as usual. He finally moved a piece and sat back, sighing and running one hand through his thick dark brown curls in a habitual, frustrated gesture as he reached for his mug of hot cider.

The other Mike looked over at him from across the board, brown eyes glinting merrily. He moved one of his black checkers, jumping over one, than two, than three of the red ones. Michael winced.

Mike grinned at him gleefully as he took the lost pieces off the board. "You're losing your touch, Knight."

Michael looked at the other. "What touch?" he said wryly. "I never had any. Not for this game, at least. And the fact that you're county checkers champion doesn't hurt you, either."

"Nope," Mike answered cheerfully.

Michael rolled his eyes and looked back at the board. He had four pieces left, and only one was a king. By contrast, Mike had nearly all his pieces, and five kings to boot. "I wonder if I should just give this game up."

Mike, still grinning, said, "Just this one game, or playing checkers at all?"

Michael sipped his cider. "I meant the first, but at this point, the second is tempting."

"Hey, no. I'd have no one to play with."

"To beat, you mean."

"You know you're the only other person within fifty miles."

"I know. That's the only reason I play with you."

The semi-serious bantering faded as the pair relaxed in friendly companionship. _To think that I have a friend like this,_ Michael thought. _Two years ago, the only one I had in the world was Kitt. Now I have Mike, and Kitt has Sunny, and I've even found Bonnie again._ He smiled unconsciously as he thought of the pretty brown-haired and hazel-eyed inventor/computer programmer. When he had first met her, she had hated him, and he had had a major crush on her. Over time, they had both mellowed out until they had become very close friends, although he still cared for her. After the Team's dispersal after their leader's death, he had lost all contact for several years with the woman who had acted like a sister to him. It had been Mike's friendship that had caused him to come out of his shell, so to speak, and had inspired him to try to find some of his old friends. Bonnie had been the only one he had found, so far. _You know,_ he told himself, _I should probably talk to her again one of these days. It's been quite a while._

He leaned back against the bricks in the side of the fireplace. _At least the fireplace works,_ he thought to himself. Things in Mike's house had a way of breaking down or just plain breaking. For one thing, the cooler didn't work; to even get it to start, they had to bang on it. _Emergency Repair Procedure Number One,_ Michael recalled, grinning at the memory of what an old friend had called that particular method.

Mike looked over at him, raising his eyebrows at Michael's chuckle. "What?"

Michael smiled. "Just remembering something."

Mike eyed him for a minute, then shrugged. He then looked back at the board, shaking his head.

* * *

The two horses came back to the cabin. Their human friends were nowhere in sight. Sunny suddenly, for no good reason, walked in front of Kitt, cutting him off. The black horse bumped into the golden stallion. "Why did you do that?" Kitt asked.

Sunny shook his mane playfully, a gleam in his blue eyes that Kit recognized.

"Oh, no, you don't," the robot protested, knowing that the alien was planning on doing *something* to him. He just wasn't sure what.

Sunny, laughing, spun around on his hind legs and kicked a snowdrift at Kitt. The cyber-horse dodged with a speed only he could achieve, and Sunny landed on all fours in another drift, falling down in the cold snow.

Kitt couldn't help it; he had to laugh at the picture Sunny portrayed, down in the snow with his mane in his eyes. The other-worldly stallion didn't look very special at the moment, but he did look funny. His legs were all sticking out in different directions, his long mane and tail were spread out across the snow, and the expression on his face was one of utter bewilderment, as though he were wondering how *this* had happened. When he heard Kitt laugh, he glared up at him, struggling to get up. "What's so funny?" he demanded, finally getting all four feet under him.

"You," the robot answered, still laughing. "The look on your face..!"

Sunny glared at him, then, glancing up, saw that Kitt was standing right underneath a heavily loaded branch. The golden horse swung his head up, hitting the branch.

Kitt suddenly found that his head was covered in a deluge of snow. He shook the white stuff out of his face, just in time to see more coming and duck...almost. Now Sunny was the one laughing. Kitt gave him a look, measuring his opponent up. Then he started galloping away.

"Hey, you scared or something?" Sunny taunted.

Kitt ignored him as best he could. Reaching the porch and turning to face the alien again, he started running toward him, picking up speed as he got closer. Sunny got ready to jump out of the way, wondering if he was going to stop.

And stop Kitt did, in a rather unorthodox fashion. Using an old trick from his years as a car (he hadn't always been a horse), he suddenly threw his body sideways, skidding to a halt in a flurry of snow.

Sunny saw the wave of white coming directly at him, too late to do anything about it. He was completely covered in snow from head to hoof.

"That," Kitt said calmly, "is called broadsiding."

Sunny glared at him. "All right," he growled, "if that's how you want to play it..."

* * *

A 'thunk' sounded as something soft hit the side of the cabin. Both men, startled, stared at the wall for a second and then jumped up, running to the window to look out. What they saw made them just stand and stare for a moment. There were two snow-covered horses in the clearing. The pair of humans inside both burst out laughing. They ran to the door and out onto the porch.

One of the equines, probably Sunny, Michael thought, was pawing a mound of snow together, and the other was behind the big oak tree in the middle of the clearing, doing likewise. It was somewhat hard to tell who was who under the snow they were both caked with, but the one out in the open had a light-colored mane and tail. Definitely not Kitt.

Michael saw Sunny glance their way and paw the ground. He debated whether or not to warn Mike, who was laughing like crazy.

A second later, Sunny kicked the pile of snow at them. Michael dodged, but in less than a second, he was well covered in snow.

He brushed the melting flakes off his face, and looked over at Mike, only to discover that he was relatively untouched. Belatedly, he realized that Sunny had been aiming at *him*. Mike had brushed what little snow he had been hit with out of his straight blond hair, and was now making a snowball.

"Hey!" Michael shouted as the projectile was let loose in his direction. He ducked, then jumped off the porch and ran to the oak tree, diving behind it just as another wave of snow hit the other side of the tree. He looked up at Kitt, grinning. "Let's get 'em!"

He made a snowball of his own, then leaned out, yelling, "This is war, guys!" as he let it fly. As he ducked back behind the oak, he heard a surprised shout from Mike that let him know he had hit his intended target. He laughed, giving a triumphant thumbs-up to his robot partner. "They can't beat us!"

For several minutes, all self-preserving birds and animals stayed quiet and out of sight as snow flew every which way, propelled by the four crazy beings near the cabin. Shouts, taunts, and laughter echoed through the previously still woods.

Finally, they stopped to rest, and there was silence from both sides for a while as horses scraped together piles of snow, and humans made piles of snowballs. Then Michael leaned out, and, seeing the other team apparently not paying attention, motioned to Kitt. They gathered their ammunition.

The two leaped out from opposite sides of the tree, spraying snow across the clearing. At the same time, snow came at them from the other side, and within seconds, all four were thoroughly covered in white.

They all stopped still, just looking at one another and at themselves. They looked ridiculous! Finally, Mike started to giggle, and soon both humans were laughing uncontrollably. The horses just looked at each other. Sunny shook his head.

The two hysterics managed to calm down enough to get the snow off themselves when Michael, having trouble keeping from laughing in the first place, suddenly thought of something.

"'Snow Wars'!" he said, then began chuckling all over again. Mike stared for a moment, then got the joke and burst out in another bout of laughter. Sunny and Kitt just looked at them, and then Sunny shook himself, all over Kitt.

The robot half-reared, tossing the snow off himself. He gave his equine friend a half-digusted, half-laughing look, then went over to his partner, who was finally settling down. Michael gazed up at him and smiled. "They are good friends to have, aren't they?" he said softly.

Kitt glanced over at Sunny and Mike, who were also talking. "Yes," he replied, "they are."

Michael leaned his forehead on his friend's neck for a minute, his arm over Kitt's back in an easy, gentle embrace. "Kitt'n," he whispered. They stood there for a few seconds, then Michael threaded his fingers through the short black mane and they went to meet the others.

* * *

"Hey, Mike! You home?"

Two days later, Michael knocked on the cabin's door, looking for his friend. He waited for several seconds after he called, then frowned. "It's not like him not to be here," he said to Kitt, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"It *is* unusual," the robot concurred. "Sometimes I think he never leaves home."

Michael nodded, running one hand through his hair and sighing. He raised his hand to knock again, but just then the door opened to reveal a rather haggard-looking Mike Stone.

Michael's frustration melted away at the sight of his friend. "Hey, you all right?" he asked, his eyes darkening in worry for the younger man.

Mike leaned back against the doorframe. "Boy, am I glad to see you two!" he said. "I kinda need some help with something..." He trailed off.

"What?" Michael pressed, all his detective's instincts coming into play. He had been a detective at one point in his career, as well as Army Intelligence, a cop, and private crimefighter; all at different times, of course. "What do you need help for?"

"Maybe you'd better come in," said Mike, stepping aside to let the other enter. "I kind of have a problem."

His worried friend went past him into the hall, then waited for Mike to close the door and join him. He then followed Mike down the hall towards the living room entryway. "Come on, what's the matter?" he insisted. "I want to help."

The blond man stopped at the doorway to the living room, which was partly open, and grinned, all traces of fear or worry gone. Suddenly Michael had a funny feeling he'd been duped into something, but he wasn't sure what. "Hey, wait a minute..." he started, but was interrupted by Mike's opening the door the rest of the way and motioning him through it.

The ex-crimefighter walked through the door, turned to head toward the fireplace -- and stopped dead.

There were Christmas ornaments and garland lying everywhere. A very lopsided tree was propped up against one wall, tall top bent down by the ceiling and no stand in sight. Colored lights were strung all across the room, threatening to trip up anyone who dared come further than ten feet into the room. The lights were plugged in, and the several different strands were all flashing crazily at different speeds and modes. Michael could only stare.

"Well..." he said slowly, "I guess it would make a good burglar alarm..."

Mike sighed behind him. "I told you I needed help."

"You certainly need something," Michael replied. "This is what you disappeared several days for? What'd you do, tie yourself up?" He gestured to the lights. ""We've been getting worried about you..."

Suddenly he put two and two together and got five. His eyes widened. "Wait a minute!" he said, whirling on his friend and pointing a finger at him accusingly. "You did this on purpose, hiding out and then acting as though there were trouble when I came to see what was wrong! You did all this just to get me to help you clean up this mess!"

Mike was grinning, totally unrepentant. "Why not?" was his only answer.

Michael took a step toward him, then instantly was sorry he did as his feet tangled in a pile of garland. He reached out and grabbed a wooden chair for balance, then remembered suddenly that this was Mike's furniture -- just as the chair groaned under his weight and collapsed. It and he fell to the floor, pulling some of the lights with them. His head hit something on the way down, and for a split second he thought, _I could get killed_, and then the wind was knocked out of him.

He slowly opened his eyes. Colored dots were blinking on and off, on and off in front of them. He momentarily wondered if he had a concussion, then realized that those were Christmas lights, doing their number in front of his face. His head hurt, and the lights weren't helping, either. He shut his eyes again.

"Michael!" a voice came worriedly to his ears. "Are you alright? Please answer me!"

He opened one eye, slowly, and squinted up at Mike. He raised one hand to his face and pulled the light strand away, then opened the other eye. "Why," he asked, somewhat painfully, "do the worst things always happen to me at your place?"

His friend sighed in relief. "For a moment there, I thought you'd knocked yourself out!"

"For a moment I thought I had, too," Michael replied, sitting up to untangle himself from the decorations. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time, but really!"

He finally shook himself free of the clinging lights, which seemed to be determined to hang on to every part of him, and stood up. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out explosively. He glanced around the room, which was now in even worse condition. As he watched, the oversized tree ponderously slid across the wall to lean heavily against the fireplace. Michael slowly shook his head, brushing his dark curls back into some semblance of order. He looked over at Mike, who was holding a box of colored balls in one hand and some garland in the other. Mike looked back sheepishly.

"Mike Stone, I don't really know what to do with you," Michael told him. "You're my friend, but..!" He glanced around again. "I should kill you," he half-joked, "but you need help -- badly. This is a death trap." He gestured at the mess in the living room. "Let's get started."

* * *

Three hours later, the tree stand had been found in the attic, and the tree trimmed to fit the ceiling level, then placed in the stand. Most of the garland and some of the many lights were on it, even if not exactly even, and the ornaments as well. The leftover garland had been draped artfully in loops around the top of the living room walls, and pinned in place by red ribbon, hanging down instead of in bows. As Mike dumped the last of the outdoor lights into a cardboard box on the sofa, he looked around the room with new respect for his friend's interior decorating ability. "Wow," he said in awe. "I have never seen this room look this good!"

Michael, on a stepladder, removed a tack from his mouth in order to reply. "That's because you normally live like a slob. No offense intended."

Mike took none. He was too busy staring. "Where did you ever learn to do stuff like this?"

Michael paused for a moment, remembering.

Mike noticed that he hadn't answered, and stopped what he was doing to glance up and see a sad expression cross his friend's face. "Hey, what?"

Michael shook his head slightly, driving back the memories. He pinned the last bit of ribbon in place and nailed it and the golden garland to the wall before replying. "I learned at the Foundation, back in my crimefighter days. We used to all get together, everyone who lived at the mansion, and have a big decorating party." He stared off into space, thinking back. "Everyone would compete, seeing how fast and how neat they could put things up. There were cookies and apple cider, and everybody had a great time." He chuckled a little. "The end result wasn't always the tidiest, but we wouldn't have traded the fun we had for a million dollars. Not that we exactly needed the money, of course."

"Sounds like a lot of fun. Why so sad?" Mike asked, sensing that if ever he were to get information out of his friend about his past, it would be now.

Michael sighed, turning and sitting down on the ladder. He stared at his hands. "It was just after a Christmas party like that, six years ago, that the Team was called in to help on a case by the local police. It was the first time that we'd actually been asked for help by the cops, instead of just butting our way in, and our leader, Devon, was thrilled. He couldn't wait to get started, but..." He paused to shake the betraying tears out of his eyes. "Two days later," he continued, his voice not entirely steady, "Dev was killed by the very people he trusted as our allies. But they were really part of the corporate gang we were after. The rest of us went after them, and we caught them, too, but it didn't bring Devon back."

Mike looked up solemnly at him. "This Devon meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

Michael nodded. "He was like a father to me."

There was awkward silence for a moment, and then Mike laid a comforting hand on his friend's arm in unspoken sympathy. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see what the horses are doing."

Michael looked at him, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah," he said, sliding off the stepladder and picking up the box Mike had been messing with earlier. "We can put these up while we're at it."

* * *

Sunny raised his head, looking at the cabin. "Mike's sad," he told Kitt. "But it's not something new -- more like sharing an old sorrow."

Kitt, who knew of the telepathic bond between Mike and Sunny, didn't comment on the fact that Sunny knew what Mike was feeling. He himself didn't have that kind of connection with his partner, but he had known Michael for many years, and knew his personality and moods well. He also had been listening in on the conversation between the two humans, via comlink, and he knew what had caused what Sunny felt.

"Michael just told your friend something very sad," the robot said softly. "In a way, I'm glad he did. He hasn't spoken of it in nearly five years, and I know it's still tearing him apart."

Sunny pinned him with a blue gaze. "What?"

Kitt sighed. "Ask Mike, later. I don't really want to talk about it right now." Devon's death had hurt him, too, deeply, although he had been too busy taking care of Michael's problems to think about his own grief. Now it didn't really hurt; it wasn't in his makeup to grieve for very long, and, even though he was mentally 'human', he did still have some robotic traits.

The front door opened just then, and the two Michaels came outside with a box of Christmas lights.

"This time," Michael was saying, "you climb that ladder."

"Hey," Mike protested teasingly, "you wouldn't force me to do that, would you? I could fall!"

Michael raised his eyebrows at the other unsympathetically. "Last time I went up that ladder, it did fall. It's your ladder; you climb it."

Kitt smiled mentally; the old ladder they were referring to was a rickety contraption, unsteady and looking for a place to fall apart.

Mike gave it a jaundiced look before positioning it against the cabin wall. "Now, don't fall over," he admonished the thing. Michael smiled at his talking to it, and held the ladder. Mike gripped the hammer tightly in one hand and started up. When he reached the top, he looked down, and immediately wished he hadn't.

He gulped. "Okay," he said to Michael, who handed him a nail. He pounded it in, and then another, and another. Just as he started to relax, the ladder creaked alarmingly, and he was all tense again. This cycle continued most of the way around the cabin, until Michael finally took pity on his young friend and finished the job. The pair hung the lights with no further mishaps, and Mike waved, grinning a thank-you, as Michael and Kitt trotted down the path.

When they reached the point where they usually crossed a road, however, Kitt was surprised when Michael instead guided him down the road.

"Michael," he ventured, "are we going the wrong way? Home is back the other direction."

His partner smiled and patted his neck absentmindedly. "We're not going home yet, pal. We're going to go see Bonnie."

Kitt wondered for a moment why, then did the mental cyber-horse version of a shrug. He definitely wouldn't mind seeing the inventor again. Next to Michael, she had always been his best friend. He pricked his ears forward and broke into a canter.

* * *

Michael reined in outside a hanger-shaped structure. This was where Bonnie Barstowe was working now, or maybe playing was more like it, he thought. Her job had never been work to her, she enjoyed it immensely. Of course, he thought, others might not think it so much fun; Bonnie was a bona-fide genius, and working with both machinery of any type and computers came easy to her. Her special field was where the two met, in robotics. As a matter of fact, she had helped create Kitt.

He swung off his partner's back, landing in ankle-deep grass, showing through wherever the snow had melted. He shook his head slightly, smiling. Bonnie could fix anything, or crack into a ultra-high-security computer system with relative ease, but when it came to things like remembering to clean up, or to get someone to cut the lawn, she was hopeless.

Michael left Kitt to his own devices, following the sound of voices around the corner to the open door. He stopped and leaned against the doorway, just taking it all in. She had built quite a little empire of her own here, he thought. Not very big, but efficient, and, for the most part, it seemed, happy. Of course, that again was just the way Bonnie was; she seemed to bring an aura with her wherever she went that made everyone around her smile. Unless she was angry about something -- then everyone stayed out of her way as best they could.

He looked for his former Team-mate, not finding her at first. Then he saw her; she was talking to a burly man a good foot-and-a-half taller than she was. The worker was hanging on her every word and move, obviously besotted with the small, slender inventor. Bonnie, typically, didn't even seem to notice. She was explaining something to him on a diagram, and then she flashed him her brilliant smile, the one that made whoever she bestowed it upon -- man, woman, or child -- melt. The man went off, not paying a whole lot of attention to where he was going. He narrowly missed a swinging crane, and Michael wondered if he'd get to wherever it was that he was heading in one piece.

Bonnie turned away, brown hair flying in a cloud about her shoulders. She jogged over to another work station, giving her full attention to a question the woman there was asking her.

Michael watched her, smiling softly. He might never be able to show it, but he always had, and always would, love her. He straightened from his post in the doorway and entered the metal building, ducking under and around equipment and various projects, heading for the inventor, who seemed totally engrossed in whatever she was saying to the woman. She was pointing to a schematic on the wall, touching different spots on it and talking animatedly.

She spun around, looking for something, and finally noticed him. Her entire face lit up in an incredulous grin. Dropping whatever it was she had been doing, she cried joyfully, "Michael!"

She darted around the worktable, running to him across the floor and leaping into a fervent hug. He returned it, not caring about the oil spots on her blue coveralls. They clung to each other for a moment, than she pulled back, grinning wider than he'd ever seen her before. "Michael," she whispered, as if not trusting her voice, "you came."

_Has it really been that long?_ he thought. And the answer was, _yes, yes it has._ He hugged her close again, holding her as tightly as he dared. "I missed you," he said softly, looking down into her warm green-brown eyes.

"Ahem," someone said from behind her, and Michael let her go so she could turn around. She smiled at her crew, who were, he was sure, wondering who this stranger was that their beloved leader welcomed so effusively.

"Guys," she announced, "this is Michael Knight. He's an old friend of mine. Back when we both worked for the Foundation, we were on the same Team."

The group, particularly the men, were looking him up and down as though they didn't trust him. He felt like an animal being sized up for the slaughterhouse, and shifted uncomfortably. He was not welcome here in their eyes, that was obvious.

Bonnie picked up on the sudden tension in the air, and, giving a last, bright smile to her crew, left diplomatically for the back wall, Michael right behind her.

She led him to a small lounge in the back area, away from the noise of the main room. As he shut the door behind them, she turned to him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "You came," she said quietly, so quietly that he could barely hear her. "I'd nearly given up, it's been so long, I'd thought I'd lost the last of my old friends, I can't believe it..."

He went over to her. She looked up at him for a moment, tears spilling from her eyes onto grease-smudged cheeks, then he put his arms around her and she leaned against his chest, crying softly.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," he whispered, rubbing her back and propping his chin against the top of her head. "It's okay." For as long as he had known her, she had always tried to hide her deeper feelings from others, afraid to be hurt. To anyone who didn't know her well, she seemed like a carefree bundle of energy. But every once in a while, she would get these emotional spells, and he knew from experience that all he could do was hold her while she cried it out. _She always seems so strong, who'd know she was really so vulnerable inside,_ he mused.

But he had hurt her. He hadn't realized how lonely she really was. _If I'd known..._ But what was done was done.

Actually, the truth was, he hadn't even thought about her when he decided to hide out with Mike in the woods. He hadn't bothered. Even though he had missed her at first, he had automatically assumed that she would be just fine; no matter what, she always landed on her own two feet. He felt like he could kick himself right about now. _Never again,_ he swore. _I'll never disappear for years again. Not with someone that needs me here. And she does need me, no matter what I thought back then._

Bonnie finally sighed, and, pulling away, he searched her face closely, looking into her eyes. She gave him a somewhat dimmed version of her usual smile. "I'm okay. Thanks."

He just looked at her. "I'm sorry," was all he could say.

She nodded. "I'm not mad at you, just incredibly happy to see you."

He smiled. "Me too."

She sat down on the threadbare couch, and Michael sat beside her, putting an arm around her. He was surprised at the wave of protectiveness and gentleness he felt towards her. _She really does mean a lot to me,_ he realized. _I... I love her. I just wish she could accept that._ But she wouldn't, he knew; she thought of him as a brother. He didn't really mind, as long as he could be near her. Although sometimes he wished...

"Sometimes it's incredibly lonely," she said, looking up at him, "even when there are a lot of people around. When everyone looks up to you, it's hard to find a true friend that will just accept you for who you are, you know?"

Michael smiled. "Yeah, I know."

They talked, of anything and everything they could think of, for hours, each hungry for news and the simple presence of an old friend. Finally Michael glanced at his watch.

"I have to go," he said. "Kitt's probably worried sick about me."

Bonnie brightened again. "Kitt's here? Oh please, let me talk to him before you go."

"Well, you'd better hurry, we need to get home before it's too dark, and it's a two-hour ride."

They left through the back door, Michael not especially wanting to meet up with an entire jealous work force again.

Kitt was waiting for him, stomping impatiently. "We really must get going, Michael. It'll be dark before we get back. And I didn't even get to see Bonnie."

Just then, she came around the corner, and both human and cyber-horse lit up. They exchanged joyous greetings, laughing and asking about each other. Michael watched them, heart aching. His two most favorite people in all the world. He wished they could all be together again. The way things used to be.

They all said goodbyes, not really happy about it, but knowing Michael and Kitt had to go.

Michael pulled himself onto the equine back and gazed down at Bonnie. "We'll be back. I promise," he swore, touching her cheek.

She smiled up at him. "I'll miss you."

"Me, too."

He and Kitt turned. Just before they left the gate, he turned back and waved. The inventor raised an arm and waved back, flashing that smile at him. _She really is beautiful,_ he mused. _And she hasn't changed much, either._ He waved again, and Kitt whinnied a farewell as they rode away.

"Michael?" the robot asked.

"What?" he replied.

"Why did we go down there? I was glad to see Bonnie, but I'm wondering why?"

The human was silent for a few seconds, then said, "I'm not really sure, Kitt. I guess I was thinking about the past, and I just had to touch bases again. And I'm very glad we did. She needs us, buddy."

"And we need her."

"Yeah," Michael said softly. "Yeah, we do."

* * *

Mike and Sunny showed up the next morning right on time for breakfast. As Michael heard his friend's cheerful, "Good morning!", he smiled, shaking his head and putting another piece of bread in the toaster. He'd known Mike long enough to know he wouldn't leave without being fed.

Mike came through the kitchen door grinning. "Mornin'!" he repeated. He sniffed the air appreciatively. "Mmm, what's for breakfast?"

"What makes you think you're invited?" Michael teased.

"'Cause you can cook!" Mike said unashamedly. "I can't, at least not very well!"

Michael shook his head again and handed him a plastic plate as the toast popped up. "Butter's in the fridge, help yourself."

The younger man was quiet for a couple of minutes while he devoured both slices, then he came over to stand behind Michael, looking over his shoulder.

Michael turned halfway around and stared the other down.

"Okay, okay," Mike grumbled with a twinkle in his eye that belied his tone. "But am I invited for breakfast?"

"Looks like you've already invited yourself," Michael said. "Here, make yourself useful." He handed the blond man plates and forks. "Set the table."

He leaned back in his chair and watched as Mike polished off his third serving of pancakes, wondering if he'd eaten that much at that age.

Mike looked up at him. "You're a man of many hidden talents, aren't you?" he stated. "Where in the world did a crimefighter learn to cook?"

"I didn't, back then," Michael replied. "And how I learned is called self-preservation. When I left the Foundation, I had to learn, or starve. I didn't have anyone looking out for me anymore. I had to take care of myself, and Kitt too."

Mike put his fork down and sat back. "Thanks. For putting up with me."

Michael shrugged. "What are friends for?"

Mike looked at a spot on the wall for a second, then glanced at the other. "I...I need your help with something, Michael."

Michael smiled tightly, getting up to clear the table. "Oh no, you don't, Mike. I've heard that line already; yesterday, just before you got me to help you clean up *your* mess. I'm not falling for that one again."

Mike looked at him earnestly, normally neat hair tousled. "But this time I'm not tricking you. This time I mean it."

The ex-crimefighter glanced back at him, raising his eyebrows. "Have you ever heard the story about the boy who cried wolf?"

"But, Michael, I really do mean it this time. Please believe me! I can't go to anyone else!"

Michael searched his young friend's face with deep-seeing blue eyes. Finally he sighed and sat back down. "Why? Why would you need my help specifically?"

"I don't know any other detectives." Now Michael's curiosity was tweaked, despite himself. "Why do you need a detective?" He felt like he was questioning someone; having to drag the information out of him.

"Well..." Mike seemed embarrassed. "It's probably nothing, but... well, I've been hearing some weird noises, and I kind of wanted to check it out, but..." He trailed off.

"You were a little scared?" Michael finished for him. Mike nodded sheepishly.

"I know it's stupid, but..."

"No," Michael disagreed, "it's not necessarily stupid. Actually," he said, standing up, "in some cases it's a good idea to be cautious. My Team-mates always used to get all over me for not being careful."

Mike looked at him, smiling a little. "You? You used to not be careful?"

Michael rolled his eyes at the ceiling with a lopsided grin. "Mike, I was downright reckless. I saw trouble coming, and jumped in with both feet anyway." Then his grin faded. "Sometimes I wish I could be that carefree again," he added.

Mike gave him a quick glance. Was that a note of regret in his voice?

Michael brought himself back to the present. "What kind of noises?"

Mike jumped. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Well, sort of like scratching and knocking sounds, you know, like something coming around? Only it didn't sound quite like an animal. I don't know really what it sounded like, just that it was weird. Like I said," he continued, getting embarrassed again, "it's probably nothing, it's just that I don't want to handle it alone."

Michael shrugged again. "Like I said before, what are friends for?" He smiled encouragingly. "Sure, I'll help; if nothing else, it'll give me something a little challenging to do for a change."

Mike grinned in relief. "Oh, *thank* you. Thanks a million."

You'll have to give me some details," the detective went on. "It's kind of hard to figure out 'weird noises'."

Mike thought. "Well, I'm not sure. Sometimes it's in the front, other times I hear it out by the woodshed. The spooky thing is it sounds almost human."

Michael stared. "Human? What d'you mean?"

"Like, well, like..." He shook his head. "I can't explain it. It's kind of hard to put into words."

Michael gazed thoughtfully in the direction of Mike's cabin. "Mike, would you mind if I spent the night at your place? You've got me interested now," he said teasingly, "you won't be able to get rid of me."

As he'd planned, Mike had to laugh. "Of course you can," the younger man answered. "You're more than welcome anytime."

Michael nodded. "Well, I guess I'd better go break the news to Kitt. If I know him, he'll be curious, too." He gave Mike that lopsided grin again. "Between the four of us, we'll figure this thing out yet."

* * *

"I know that Mike's our friend, but why are you all of a sudden deciding to solve a mystery for him? I don't mind, of course, but I thought you said you'd had enough of that five years ago."

Michael shrugged a little, not quite sure himself. "I don't really know, buddy," he replied. "Maybe part of it's because he is our friend, and he has a problem that we can help with. Also, I've been feeling a little guilty about not doing anything except hiding out here. I mean, this kind of thing's what I was trained to do, the only thing I was really trained to do." He buckled shut the saddlebag he'd been packing for the stay-over, then reopened it as he remembered something he'd forgot. He found the missing article, reclosed the bag, then went out of the room and down the hall, saying to his partner, "And it's what you were created to do." They were having this conversation by comlink.

Kitt was waiting for him in the small shed that served him as a stable. Michael crossed the straw-covered floor, saddlebags slung over one shoulder and a dark-brown snaffle bridle in the other hand. The black horse eyed the latter with distaste.

"Really, Michael, must I wear that thing?"

The human chuckled, amused. "Sorry, pal, we have to look somewhat normal if we end up going into town." He patted his friend as he passed by. "I know you hate it, but it's necessary."

Kitt gave a martyred sigh. "Very well, but I don't have to like it."

Michael came back after depositing the equipment in the corner and picking up currycomb and brushes. "You may not be a real horse, but I like to see you look good," he answered the robot's ear-pricked, unspoken question.

He rubbed the dirt to the surface with the currycomb, then ran the soft brush over the ebony side, causing it to shine in the winter sun coming through the open door. He smiled softly, watching the near-iridescent play of light on the sleek synthetic coat. Sunny had a shaggy winter coat to keep him warm, but the cyber-horse had no need of such a thing. He was glad that Kitt was a robot for many reasons, not the least of which that he would never be alone. With the watch-like comlink, he could always talk to his partner, unless they were more than thirty miles apart.

Kitt turned his head to look at him, wondering, Michael knew, why he was being so quiet. They had been together so long that they both knew what was on the other's mind -- to a point. Neither one of them was telepathic, unlike Mike and Sunny. "It's okay," he reassured the robot. "Just thinking."

"What about?" Kitt inquired.

"About us, me and you, and all we've been through together." Kitt seemed to accept that answer, and both fell silent. Michael finished with the now-shimmering coat, and, picking up the stiff plastic brush, started in on the knotted mane and tail. Even he wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, but it felt good to take care of his friend.

He worked in silence, enjoying the physical activity. Within an hour, the strands were nearly as smooth as if they had never been knotted to begin with.

Finally, he stood back,eying his work. He grinned. "You look like you're ready for some fancy show or somethin'!"

Kitt, who had always liked looking well-groomed, even as a car, pranced out to the little stream near the shed and gazed down at his reflection in the ice. He tossed his now-silky short mane proudly, and didn't even argue when his human partner slipped on the bridle.

Michael, out of old, city-bred habit, made sure the doors were locked, then swung easily to Kitt's back. He gripped hard with his knees and kicked the robot to a Quarter-Horse-style takeoff, leaping to full gallop almost from a stand-still.

The cyber-horse smoothed out, heading down the trail that would take them to Mike's cabin. "You always did like to floor the accelerator," he sighed tolerantly.

Michael laughed, the wind they were creating tossing his hair. "Why not?" he said back, knowing Kitt's keen sensors would pick up his voice even when no other being could hear him over the wind. He leaned forward, urging his friend to greater speed. "Let's go!"

They reached their destination in record time, both reveling in the sensation of sheer speed as they flew over the white ground. They came to the straight stretch that was just before the entrance to the clearing, leveling out as they came around the bend. Michael remembered the icy patch that Mike and Sunny had slipped on several days ago, and unconsciously gripped the robot's sides even tighter as they became airborne, sailing over the treacherous spot.

Sunny looked up as they flew around the corner and over the ice. He scrambled to get out of the way, certain that the crazy pair would never be able to stop in time to not run him over. They didn't even try. Sunny watched in panicked, yet envious amazement as they leapt once more, soaring over the golden stallion as effortlessly as they had the ice patch. Human and cyber-horse seemed one as they landed on the other side and Kitt slowed to a canter. They turned at the end of the clearing, and trotted back to the cabin.

Mike, who had seen the whole thing from the porch, applauded as Michael and Kitt came up to the stairs. "You'd never catch me trying that," he said, grinning, "but you guys sure put on a good show!"

Michael grinned back, breathing hard. "We weren't really trying to put on a show," he said, "we were just having fun."

"There must be some advantages to having a robot horse for a friend," Mike remarked.

The other man shrugged, and slid off the sleek back, laying a hand on his partner's neck. "Yeah," he replied, still somewhat breathlessly. "But I care more about him as my friend than as anything else, even as a robot."

Mike nodded, understanding, somewhat. "Well, come on in," he said, gesturing him to the open door. "I've made dinner."

Michael grimaced, pulling the saddlebags from Kitt's withers and slipping the bridle off. "You sure it's safe? Not some kind of toxic waste or something?"

The younger man burst out laughing. "What?!"

Michael grinned back. "Well, your cooking sometimes tastes like it."

Mike shook his head, still laughing. "Oh, you! Come on."

Michael touched Kitt once more, then the pair of humans went into the house, still kidding around as the door closed.

Kitt heard Sunny come up behind him, and turned his head to look at his friend, eyes laughing. At the look in Sunny's, however, the laughter died. "What?" he asked, puzzled at the look of anger and jealousy in the palomino's blue eyes. "What did I do?"

"Show-off," Sunny muttered. "You just had to prove you're better than me."

Kitt blinked, surprised. "I'm not trying to prove anything," he replied. "Like Michael said, we were just having fun."

"Yeah," the stallion shot back. "Just showing all the things you can do that I can't."

Kitt shook his head, not understanding Sunny's sudden change in attitude. "What's wrong? I don't understand. I am what I am; you are what you are. We can both do things the other can't."

But Sunny wasn't listening. "Show-off," he said again, then turned and galloped away. The cyber-horse watched him go, hurt.

* * *

Michael helped carry the dinner dishes to the sink. The meal had actually, surprisingly, been quite good. "Your cooking's improving," he noted.

Mike glanced up from where pieces of a clock radio had already made their way to the table-top. "Thanks," he replied. "I'm trying. Even I'm getting tired of my cooking."

"Like I said earlier," Michael pointed out. "Self-preservation."

The younger man pushed his blond hair out of his eyes. "I guess. Hand me the little screwdriver...no, that one. Yeah."

Michael picked up the requested tool and handed it across the table. "What's wrong with that?" he asked, pointing to the radio.

"Not much. But it isn't getting good reception."

The ex-crimefighter shook his head, smiling. "What'd you expect, it's fifteen years old. You know, you're starting to remind me of Bonnie; something works and you take it apart to see if you can make it work better."

Mike looked up curiously, pushing his hair back again. It promptly fell back over his eyes. "Who's Bonnie?"

Michael glanced over, surprised. "I never mentioned her before?"

"Nope." Mike shrugged. "You never much mentioned your past."

Michael perched on the edge of the table. "Well, she is someone from my past, but she's someone from the present as well. She's the only member of the Team that I've kept in contact with."

Mike was interested now. "I didn't know you still knew anyone from your Team. Who is she?"

"She was our resident inventor, computer expert, and all-around tinkerer. She'd build all sorts of accessories for Kitt, and most of them worked real well, too. Now she has her own company, a little west of here."

"Hmph. Well," Mike said, gesturing at the pieces spread out on the table, "this isn't going real well."

"Why don't you take a break," Michael suggested. "Clear your head."

Mike looked up at him. "I took a break during dinner," he said.

"Take another one. What I meant by 'take a break' was put it away until tomorrow."

Mike leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Maybe you're right. I'm sure not getting anywhere." He got up, leaving the stuff on the table and heading for the living room. Michael followed him.

"Can I meet her?" the blond man said, putting another log on the fire.

Michael blinked. Oh, yeah. "Maybe," he said, sitting down on the hearth. "I don't know."

"I'd like to."

"If you're not busy, you can come with me next time I go over there," Michael answered, shrugging.

Mike stood. "Would you like to play a game?" he inquired.

"Not checkers," the other protested. Then, more seriously, "Actually, I don't really feel like doing anything like that. Tell me some more about your problem."

Mike heaved a great sigh, collapsing in an easy chair. Michael closed his eyes until he was sure it wouldn't fall apart.

"There isn't that much more to tell," the blond man replied. "It's just a sound, really, like..."

Just then a scratching noise came through the wall by the fireplace, right behind Michael. He jumped, spinning to his feet, now facing the wall. Mike sat up in his chair.

"Like that," he finished quietly.

Michael held up a hand for silence. The sound came again, and the detective headed for the door, talking into his comlink. "Meet us outside, buddy. This case is gonna bust loose!"

Mike climbed out of the chair, hot on his friend's heels. The two stepped out onto the porch, both instantly regretting that they hadn't put on jackets against the cold December night air. They were met at the bottom of the steps by both horses, and all four ran around to the back.

They halted when they reached the woodshed, over by the chimney. "In there," Michael said very quietly.

Mike suddenly shivered, and not from the cold. "Wait, what if it's an escaped convict or something? What if it's dangerous? You sure we should get him? Maybe we should call the police."

Michael gave him a look, and Kitt snorted their shared opinion of the police derisively.

"Okay, maybe not the police," Mike conceded. "But somebody?"

In answer, Michael turned the knob on the woodshed door, opening it. He looked at Mike. "I thought you asked us to help."

Suddenly realizing how silly he was sounding, Mike sighed, nodding. "Okay."

Michael swung the creaky door open, shining his flashlight in. Nothing. The detective raised both eyebrows. "Well, well," he said. "Kitt, cover me."

He stepped inside, Mike right behind him. Sunny joined the robot outside the door, looking in and ready to leap to their friends' aid.

The two men shone flashlights around into every corner, heading slowly towards the back. There were piles of junk everywhere, some of it covered by tarps. Michael thought, _Some of those would be good places to hide._ He was just going to mention that fact to Mike when, all of a sudden, Kitt shouted, "Michael, look out! Behind you!"

He spun around to face the danger as a figure came barreling around a junkpile and leaped at him. Caught off guard, he was knocked over by the unexpected assault, but managed to bring his attacker down with him. He was startled by the man's light weight, and a feeling that something wasn't quite right went through him.

Michael had always been one to follow his instincts, and so, instead of landing the punch he otherwise would have, he rolled over, rising to his knees and pinning his assailant down. It was too easy, he thought. The man was struggling to get free, and Michael grabbed his wrists, holding them to the ground as well.

Mike, Kitt, and Sunny were all behind him, coming to attack. "Wait!" he said, causing all three worried friends to come to a startled halt. "Shine the light."

Mike beamed his flashlight on the unknown man's face, and the stranger twisted his head away, then slowly turned back towards them, squinting in the bright beam. Driven by a feeling he didn't understand, Michael let go of the man, standing up, and turned the flash so that it no longer shone directly in his eyes.

"What?" Mike cried. "You're going to let him go?"

"Wait," Michael replied. "This is no convict."

Mike looked at him, surprised.

The stranger blinked a couple of times, then sat up slowly, groaning. "You aren't going to kill me?"

The man's voice was hoarse, but strangely, terribly familiar. Kitt half-reared in shock, and Michael felt an extremely strong sense of deja vu wash over him. The other two stared at them.

"What?" Sunny wanted to know. "What about him?"

The stranger looked at the palomino with an expression of utter surprise that Michael had never thought he'd see again. "You talk!" he exclaimed, with a strong British accent.

"Of course I talk," said Sunny. "Why shouldn't I?"

Kitt gazed at his partner in astonishment. "Michael..." he whispered.

"I know, pal, I know," was all the human could say.

Their visitor looked over at the ebony robot. "You too!"

Kitt stepped carefully over to the Britishman, putting his head down on his level. "Yes, we talk," he replied. "He is an alien." At this Sunny glared daggers at him. "I am an artificial intelligence," Kitt went on, unaware. "His name is Sunny. I am called Kitt."

The stranger shook his head in amazement. "You are very... unusual."

"He's very human," Michael put in, finding himself giving the same automatic courtesy to this man. "I'm his partner, Michael Knight." He held out a hand to help him off the floor. "I'm sorry about this, we thought you were a prowler."

"*Wait* a *minute*!" Mike protested. "*What* is going *on* here?"

Michael looked over at him. "This is no criminal, Mike."

"How would you know?"

The stranger smiled. "Actually, you are quite right to be suspicious, young man. And in a way, I am a prowler." The smile disappeared. "For a very different reason. Perhaps we had best go inside, and I will explain everything."

* * *

The man, whose name was Russel, they had found out, ate dinner ravenously, then went to clean up. He came out of the shower in considerably better condition, and better spirits as well. He walked into the living room wearing Mike's dark blue bathrobe and brushing his damp gray hair down with his fingers.

Michael looked up from his book, and couldn't help staring at the stranger, who lifted one eyebrow in a decidedly Devon-like expression. "What is it?" he inquired, coming over to the fireplace where Michael was sitting. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

The ex-crimefighter shook his head a little, then looked into the man's gray eyes. "You...remind me of someone I used to know," he replied truthfully. "He was very like you."

The man raised the other eyebrow. "Oh? I see. Well, I'm afraid I haven't been very polite; you don't even know who I am, much less why I came to be hiding in your shed."

Michael shrugged, smiling slightly. "We don't really need to know your name in order to help someone who is obviously in trouble. That's the kind of thing I used to do for a career."

The Britishman sighed, sitting by the fire beside him. "I thank you for that. However, perhaps I had better tell you why I am here, and my situation, since you have been so kind."

Mike came into the room with cocoa for all. Russel took the mug that was offered him with a polite word of thanks. Mike looked at Michael. "I guess you're right about his not being a criminal," he said lightly. "They sure don't have good manners like that!"

All three laughed at Mike's joke, but Russel sobered quickly. "Michael Knight, Michael Stone, perhaps now is the best time to tell you of my problem."

The younger two quieted, settling in to listen intently.

The Britishman started his story. "My full name is Russel Donovan. I am a computer technician. Two years ago, I came over to the United States from England in response to a request from a company dealing in computer communications -- or so I thought. I had expected to be back home with my family within six months. However, when I arrived, they did not seem very inclined to let me go. After I finished the project, they highly praised my work, and found another position for me in another project. They seemed so like they really needed me that I could not refuse. I finished that project and they instantly found still another. I was somewhat annoyed at this constant ignoring of my requests, for I wanted to go home."

Mike shrugged, not understanding. "What does this have to do with your being in my woodshed?"

Russel gave him a slightly withering glance.

"Shh," Michael told him. "If this story is the situation I suspect, it has everything to do with it."

Russel nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Now where was I... Oh, yes. I was being kept at the company practically against my will. They were not actually utilizing force, but it began to seem more and more like they were preventing me from leaving. I was not even allowed off the grounds without an escort. They said it was simply policy to keep others from finding out about their projects, but I began to wonder. What projects of theirs could be so vitally top-secret?

"Then one day, about four months ago, I decided to sneak my way out of the building for a walk, to clear my head."

He paused, and Michael prompted, "Go on." Mike was now thoroughly engrossed in the story.

The Britishman let out a deep, calming breath. "One day," he repeated, "I went for a walk. If I had known what I would see that day, I would have stayed inside.

"I was walking down by the riverbank, and I heard loud voices. I wondered what they were arguing about, and arrived on the scene just in time to see one of the company's guards shoot a man in the back. And as if that wasn't enough, he then, with no feeling whatsoever, pushed him into the river!"

"Some people are like that, unfortunately," Michael said at Russel's shudder. "I've met a few."

Russel closed his eyes as if in pain and went on. "I did not particularly want to be found by the murderer, so I left as quickly and silently as possible. When I returned to the building, I instantly asked to see the director of the company. He said that he would see me, and I went up to tell him about the incident, sure that he would want to know that he had a man like that in his employ."

"Uh, oh," said Michael. "I think I know what happens next."

Mike, who had not been in this kind of situation before, said, "And he got the man arrested, right?"

"Wrong," stated the ex-crimefighter bluntly. Mike blinked at him.

So did Russel. "How did you know?" he asked.

"I used to go after guys like that all the time," Michael replied to both the others' questioning stares. "I was a professional crimefighter, and our Team's main target were the people who were often in charge -- those who operated above the law. Like this boss of yours, Russel."

"He was not *my* boss, so you put it," the Britishman said frostily. "May I continue?"

"Yeah, please," said Michael. "We'd like to help, if we can."

Russel raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if you can. When I went into the office," he continued, "this man, Aaron Milton, I believe his name is, listened to my story and seemed to be sympathetic. Then, he totally shocked me by saying that I was too 'nosy' for my own good, and that I had better forget I ever saw what I saw. I knew then that this man was a criminal, and that it was very likely under his orders that that poor fellow was killed. That was when I decided to get out." He paused for a moment.

"Mr. Milton had no intention of letting me go after what I had seen, and sent two real brutes of men to come after me. Fortunately, I know some judo, and managed to escape from them. In all the commotion, I was able to leave the premises. Of course, as soon as they knew I was gone, they sent a search party after me, but I managed to lead them into thinking that I had drowned in the river. That night I slipped away and traveled until I came here. I have been in that woodshed of yours for two days."

There was silence for a few minutes, then Michael muttered something angrily under his breath. Mike gave him a surprised glance. He hadn't heard what Michael had said, but from the tone, he knew it wasn't very nice.

Russel also looked over at the dark-haired man. Michael finally, slowly, raised his head to look at the other two. A chill ran down Mike's spine at the expression on his easy-going friend's face. A flashing look of sheer fury was turned upon him, and the younger man suddenly realized how little he actually knew the ex-crimefighter. He had known that Michael hated injustice of this sort, but...

_His eyes look like blue lightning,_ he thought. Involuntarily, the young blond man shivered. _He can be deadly,_ he realized in shock.

"Now you *have* to let us help," Michael finally said, the look in his eyes slowly cooling to an icy anger. He looked over at Russel. "I was trained to catch criminals like this Milton guy. Let me use what I know."

Russel eyed him doubtfully, but replied, "Perhaps you could help; a man who knew what he was doing could easily enter the grounds, but you could be killed! No-one, alone, could escape once an alarm had been sounded."

Michael glanced coolly at the Britishman. "Who said I'd be alone? But maybe you're right on one point, a horse isn't nearly as much protection as..." He trailed off, a faraway look coming into his eyes. Then he shook himself back to the land of the living. "If we could get some info on these guys, some evidence on their activities, we could give it to someone who *would* be some help, like the FBI or something."

Russel thought it over, eyes widening. "You know, that just might work?" Then he frowned. "But you would still have the problem of finding the evidence you need. All files are kept in their main computer, and entering that is nearly impossible."

"Why?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, I know my way around a computer pretty well, and I *am* coming with you!" Mike said in response to the sudden protest in the detective's face. "I may not be trained, but you'll need some backup. What, you think you're just going to waltz in there with a horse on your heels? That's not exactly called undercover!"

Michael glared half-heartedly at him for a moment, then gave in. "All right, but you'll have to be a help, not a hinderance. In other words, don't get in the way."

Mike glared back for a second, then nodded.

Russel cleared his throat loudly, and both the others turned to see an exasperated expression on the older man's face. "*If* I may!" he said, giving them the same look that Devon had given Michael and Bonnie whenever they had fought. Michael winced at the painful memory.

When Russel saw that he had their attention, he lowered his voice. "I apologize for shouting, but there is something that you must understand!" Then he calmed. "The main system can only be accessed with a special security code. You must find out the access code before you go to the complex, otherwise you will trigger an alarm. That is why I said it would be nearly impossible."

"Then, how, saying it's a *little* bit possible," Mike asked, frustrated, "would we find out this code from all the way out here?"

Russel replied, but Michael wasn't listening. He was feeling something he hadn't felt for a long time, a tense excitement, an anticipation that sent his heart pounding and his pulse racing. _Could it be that I've been out of the scene too long?_ he wondered. He had left of his own accord, and had thought that, after all he had been through, he would be more than happy to live the rest of his life in peace, without high-speed chases and spending an inordinate amount of time in the hospital. But recently, he had been feeling restless -- as though he needed to get back into the action, as though that was what he was *meant* to do.

He looked off into space, thinking. Then he made his decision. A slow grin spread across his face.

Michael came back to earth. Russel was saying, "But for that you would need a computer programmer, a hacker, as you would put it."

"But where would we find somebody like that?" Mike frowned. "They've got to be rare."

"Yes, at least one with the skill necessary to perform this operation," the Britishman replied.

"But then how..?" Mike said again.

"I know where we can find a hacker," Michael interrupted. The other two turned to stare at him.

* * *

Russel glanced around with a slightly distrusting expression on his face as Michael pointed him through a gate in a chainlink fence. "Are you quite certain we'll find someone here who can assist us? This is not exactly a computer lab."

Michael winced slightly. Sometimes Russel sounded so much like Devon it *hurt*.

Russel turned the wheel of the small rented compact he was driving, going through the gate. They were alone on this trip; Mike and Sunny had had somewhere to go, and Kitt had been left behind as well, amidst much complaining. Even he had had to admit that the rental car could carry two on such a trip better than himself; however, that fact did not make the black horse much happier.

Russel looked at the semi-circle-shaped, hanger-like buildings they were passing. "Are you sure we didn't take a wrong turn somewhere? This looks very much like an old airport."

"That because it did used to be one," Michael replied. "Turn here."

Russel stopped the car outside the hangar that Michael pointed out. He sat still for a moment.

Michael, about to get out, looked over at him. Russel looked back. "You must be sure this person is trustworthy," he said worriedly. "We cannot let the group know that we are doing this. They would kill us."

Michael smiled, opening the passenger door. "I'm sure," he replied.

Russel sighed, then got out as well, joining him on the other side of the car. "Now where?" he inquired.

Michael gestured at the building. "In there." He led the way through a small door set off to the side of the big sliding doors.

Inside, Russel could hardly believe his eyes. He stared at the confusion and noise inside. Then he looked over at Michael, raising both eyebrows incredulously. "Here?"

"Yep." Michael led the way to a section at the back, partitioned off away from the noise. Once they were inside the area, and the door behind them was closed, the sound level dropped immensely.

Russel followed Michael down the thinly carpeted hall. The younger man glanced through every door they passed, looking for someone.

Then he stopped as loud, angry voices came to their ears, and Russel almost ran into him. Michael glanced at the older man and opened a door into a room with designs and schematics on every plaster wall. At the other end, two women, neither very big, were shouting at each other over a diagram spread out on a metal table.

"But I know it would improve the performance over 15 percent," the red-head argued.

The other shook her head violently, brown hair flying wildly. "No!" she said angrily, stabbing her finger at a spot on the paper indistinguishable from the rest of the drawing. "This does *not* go here. It can't! The motor isn't powerful enough, we'd have a blowout!"

Michael cleared his throat. "Uh, maybe we'd better come back later."

The two women glared up at him, then the brunette stared, starting to smile. She straightened, heading toward the men, and definitely smiling now. "When you said you'd be back soon, I didn't think you meant this soon," she said, coming up to them and hugging Michael. "But it's a nice Christmas Eve present. Who's your friend?"

"I had a little change of plans," Michael responded, hugging her back and smiling down at her. He turned to Russel. "This is Russel Donovan, and he has a rather unusual problem. Russel, this is Dr. Bonnie Barstowe."

Russel raised his eyebrows as he shook her hand. "I never met a woman in charge of an operation like this, no offense intended, and certainly not one with a doctorate degree working in this particular field." He gestured around and towards the main room.

"Well, we're actually a lot more technological than it looks," Bonnie replied, tucking her hair behind one ear. "And, as for the other, no offense taken. I get that kind of thing a lot," she said, green-brown eyes twinkling. "Why don't you come on in? Marie," she said to the red-head, "we'll finish this... dicussion, later."

She said it smiling, but Russel could hear cold steel underneath her velvet tone. _This woman could be dangerous,_ he thought.

Marie left, glaring laser bolts at Bonnie's back. She slammed the door behind her, leaving the others alone.

Bonnie looked up at Michael, suddenly seeming very serious. "What's wrong?" she asked. "It sounds like something important."

"It is," Michael said.

She motioned them to follow her through another door, this one at the back of the meeting area. They entered a room quite different from the rest of the building. It was tiny, but finely furnished, with wood paneling that Russel suspected provided good soundproofing, to prevent eavesdroppers. Two soft chairs and a couch were situated around a low glass-topped coffee table in the center of the little room. A coffeemaker stood on a little wooden table in the back right corner, behind a file cabinet. A computer terminal was on a desk against the left wall, surrounded by the only mess in the place -- a small mountain of papers and disks, threatening to spill over onto the floor. There were schematics on the walls here, too, but not as many, and different. Russel peered at some of them. They were related to devices he had never seen before, and... he blinked in surprise. A sports car?

Russel heard a low whistle behind him, and turned to see Michael staring around with a funny look on his face -- almost one of recognition.

Bonnie turned, looking at Michael. "Like it?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah. I do." Then he smiled. "The semi."

Russel wondered what he meant by that. A semi-what? But Bonnie was nodding. "Like a little piece of home," she said.

Russel shrugged to himself. Obviously they weren't going to let him in on whatever they were talking about, so he decided to look around. He walked around the small room, looking at the diagrams on the walls. As far as he could tell, many of them had to do with robotics and artificial intelligence projects. And nearly all of them had been created by Bonnie Barstowe. He thought of the girl with new respect. If these were anything to go by, she was quite an inventor.

He still couldn't figure out the car, though. The picture was an outline, white-on-black drawing of a two-door sporty coupe, from front, side, and back views. It was criss-crossed by lines and rectangles. 'Structural integrity', he read. Well, that didn't help much. It still didn't make any sense.

Michael turned around, simply taking it all in. "You made it look just like..."

Bonnie smiled. "Mm-hmm. I kind of wanted to have someplace where I could go and just be me. It's also good for working in, it's so quiet."

He grinned incredulously. "It's fantastic. I wish I had someplace like this."

"You're welcome to come by anytime," the inventor teased. "It was your home, too."

"Yeah, I know." Michael sighed. "I wish it still was."

Bonnie looked at him. "I know. Five years -- it's still hard to believe it's all gone. Everything we used to do, everything we used to be."

Michael glanced at Russel. He seemed to be all right for the time being, avidly reading the designs on the walls. He turned back to his friend, motioning her to the couch. They both sat, then he said, "Actually, that's sort of related to the reason we came."

She nodded. "You still haven't told me why you're here, and why you brought him," she gestured to Russel.

"Well," he started, "I might as well tell all."

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"It's sort of like the kind of case we used to solve," he went on. "Russel worked for a powerful organization, and he never thought to question their activities until, one day, he saw a guard kill a man. He reported the incident to the boss, like any good little loyal employee, and the boss invited him up to the office to tell all about it."

Bonnie looked at him, dread in her eyes. "I think I know where this story's going."

Michael grimaced. "Yeah. The boss threatened Russel, telling him that if he informed on them, he would be 'eliminated'. He somehow managed to escape, and convince them he was dead. We found him hiding out in a friend's woodshed."

She gave the gray-haired Britishman a thoughtful look. "He reminds me a lot of..."

"Yeah, I know," Michael replied, also looking at Russel. "I noticed that, too." He looked back at Bonnie. "Sometimes it almost hurts, you know? When he talks, sometimes he says the same things as Dev would."

She gazed back at him, a fire burning deep in her eyes. "It would almost be like revenge for what those people did to Devon."

He slowly nodded, the same fire kindling in his eyes.

She smiled dangerously. "What do you want me to do?"

"Something only you could do," he told her. "Y'see, my friend, Mike, and me are going in to get some evidence against these guys to give to the FBI, since,unfortunately, we no longer have FLAG backing us."

Bonnie ignored his misuse of grammar, but frowned in worry. "Be careful."

"We plan on it. We also don't plan to stay very long. You see," he said, leaning forward, "the plan is to get some info out of their computer system and scram. Security is very lax for a group like this, we shouldn't even be noticed. But to get into the system, we have to have a special code. Without entering that code, we're dead meat. Alarms will go off all over the place. But *with* the code, Mike can get pretty much any information we need. He's pretty good with computers; with luck, we oughta be in and out before anyone even realizes we were there."

"And the catch?"

"No-one except the high-and-mighties of the gang have that code. But," he went on, "Russel managed to get the entry signature for their secondary computer system. It's on a totally different level from the other; you can only access the other manually. But this one, a person could tap into from a distance, say, from here. And Russel thinks a good hacker could find out that code."

Bonnie was silent for a minute. "Is that why you came here? To have me break into their system?"

Michael nodded. "You used to be able to get anywhere with a computer; I doubt you've lost much of that."

She looked at him, worry in her eyes. "I *used* to, Michael. That doesn't mean I can anymore." She jumped up and started to pace the floor. "They've changed a lot of stuff, I don't even know if the new systems even speak the same language! Sure, I could do a lot -- back then. But this is now, Michael! I haven't even been outside my own system in over five years!"

Her raised voice had attracted Russel's attention, and he came over to stand beside her. "But you're our only hope," he pleaded.

The inventor looked at the older man. "But I don't know if I can!"

Michael stood up and came over. He took her by the shoulders, and she looked up at him. "You can do anything you want to, bonita," he said softly, using his own loving nickname for her. "You've always tackled any problem, and won. It's because you never gave up. No matter what, even if I was in danger, or Kitt was nearly destroyed, you *never gave up*. Bonnie, you *can* help us, I know you can do it." He paused. "You've got to."

She looked at him, trying to believe. Hazel eyes locked with blue, one afraid, one beseeching. Finally she let a held breath out, closing her eyes, and nodded. "Okay," she said, nodding again. "Okay, I'll try."

Michael released her, and she went over to the computer terminal, the two men right behind her. She pulled the dust cover off and sat down, booting up the machine.

Russel gave her the entry signature, and then gave the computer a once-over. "What make is that?" he asked Michael. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

"You shouldn't have," the ex-crimefighter answered. "Bonnie built it."

"She's quite the inventor, isn't she?" Russel remarked. "I was looking at some of the drawings over there, and she's created quite a few gadgets."

Michael smiled. "Don't let her hear you call them gadgets; she's also a black belt in karate. And it's thanks to those 'gadgets' of hers that I'm not dead several times over."

Russel raised his hands, as if protecting himself. "All right! I understand! I won't call them gadgets!"

Michael found himself smiling again. Russel was obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"By-the-by," the Britishman said, "What was all that about this room earlier? And, I must confess, I am curious about some of those drawings, particularly the sports car."

Michael chuckled. "They're related. It's sort of a long story. Maybe I'll tell you some time."

Russel frowned at him.

"Guys, could you keep it down?" Bonnie asked. "I'm trying to think."

The two men, instantly contrite, shut up and sat down.

After a few minutes, Russel leaned over to talk to Michael. "I say, does everyone just obey her like that?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. But she does have a way of getting people to do what she wants, though, doesn't she?" He looked over at her. She was frowning and typing in commands, obviously having trouble, and, just as obviously to someone who knew her, having a great time. He smiled.

Russel looked at the younger man, watching him knowingly. "You like her." It was not a question.

Michael, embarrassed at being so easily read, looked away and shrugged. "It doesn't really matter one way or the other," he replied. "It'll never be."

Russel started to reply, but was interrupted by a whoop from the other side of the room. Both men spun around to see what was going on.

Bonnie leaped up out of her chair. "I've got it!"

The others stared. "Got what?" Michael asked.

She made a face at him. "What was it you came in here asking me to find out for you?"

"The code?" both Michael and Russel said at once.

The laser printer was going through its part, now, and within seconds the inventor pulled a sheet of paper from the slot. She tossed it across a chair back to land in Michael's lap. There was a single line of print on it -- 'Security Code Beta-Phi; 242IJ8PNH764Y2'.

Russel stared incredulously at the sheet, their key to the entire operation, captured so easily. He once again raised his opinion of Bonnie Barstowe.

Michael grinned at her, vaulting the sofa back to seize her in a bear hug. He spun her around, laughing. "You did it," he shouted. She grinned back at him, trying to get her breath back. Russel smiled at their antics.

A young man, probably in his early twenties, came into the room with a quizzical expression. "Are you all right?" he asked Bonnie. "What's all the noise about?"

She turned and grinned at him happily, leaning back for support against Michael, who promptly wrapped his arms around her. "Everything's fine, Dan," she said, still trying to get her breath back from laughing. "Everybody's all right. We just conquered a problem that's been staring me in the face for a long time."

Dan, still looking worried about her being so free with strangers, had to accept that answer, and left.

"They are all very protective of you, aren't they?" Russel put in.

"I'd say jealous is more like it," Michael said grinning, hugging Bonnie from behind. "They all have crushes on you, bonita, and you know it."

She looked up at him playfully. "I know. I try to discourage them. But they sure do good work!"

Russel smiled at the pair of them, shaking his head, amused.

Then Michael, turning serious, let the inventor go, turning her around to face him. "What did you mean about conquering a problem that's been bothering you?"

Her grin disappeared, and she sighed as she looked at the carpet. "I've been kind of hiding out, I guess, since I left the Foundation, afraid to really try anything like that again, afraid it would make me remember the past, and it hurt too much to remember."

Michael sighed, too. "I did the very same thing. But, you know what I found out the past few days?"

She looked up at him. "What?"

"That there's a lot of good things to remember, like the things we did with each other, and the jokes and games we played, and the adventures we had, and the good we did for others. That, at least for me, I need to get beyond what happened six years ago, that I need to get on with being who I really am. And the real me is not the person that hid away. The real me is the person I used to be, in the Team. I'm starting to become that person again, and believe me, Bonnie, it sure feels good to come out of that shell."

Bonnie didn't say anything for a few seconds, thinking over what Michael had said. "You're right," she finally said, looking back up from where she had been studying the rug. "You are right. Will you help me, Michael?"

"Only if you help me, and Kitt," he smiled. "We may be the only members of the Team left, but we can still be a Team, if we try. If we stick together."

Their eyes met again. "Yes," she said, starting to smile in return. "If one man could make a difference, certainly a man, a woman, and a robot horse can."

He grinned at her. "Here's to the Team," he said, holding up an imaginary glass.

She grinned back, returning his salute. "And may we never fall apart again!"

* * *

Late that night, the two Michaels sat in the dark living room, with the fire providing the only light. Michael Knight lay back on his sleeping bag in front of the fire and watched the patterns of orange and gold flicker across the ceiling, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time. He sighed comfortably.

"Michael," Mike's voice said quietly. Russel was asleep in the guest room on the other side of the wall.

He glanced over at his friend. "What?"

Mike handed him the sheet of paper with the code on it. Michael rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. He took the paper and looked at it. "What about it?"

The younger man, his hair glowing bronze with the firelight, sat up and gazed at him. "Now I really want to meet this Bonnie," he quipped. "I thought Russel said it was impossible to get this."

Michael smiled in response. "He said *nearly* impossible, and Bonnie *is* a top computer expert."

"Yeah, well, I call getting that," Mike gestured at the sheet, "being an expert, all right."

Michael smiled again, and lay back down on the floor, holding the printout up to the meager light and studying the code.

Mike looked over at him. "What's with you?" he asked.

Michael glanced upside down at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you look happier than I've ever seen you before. You remind me of the cat that swallowed the canary."

Michael had to chuckle at the mental picture that phrase created. "The cat that swallowed the canary? Not really. I'm... just feeling really content, something I haven't felt in... oh, years."

"Why?"

"I don't know... maybe it's because I'm finally being myself again, doing what I love and being with the people I care about." He sighed again. "I don't know."

Mike didn't speak for a minute, and they sat in the silence of friends who are comfortable in one another's presence. Then he spoke up again. "You really love doing this kind of thing? Jumping out into danger, risking your life?" At Michael's grin and nod, the blond man shook his head, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "I should have known from the way you took that death-defying ride into my clearing yesterday."

Michael sat up. "It's not just living on the wild side, Mike, though I like to do that, too. It's helping those who can't defend themselves, keeping those who are less strong from being overrun. *That's* what I love to do. To prove that 'one man can make a difference'."

Mike gazed at him. "One man... Where'd you hear that?"

Michael sighed, looking at the floor. "From a man who I didn't care much about when he said that to me. But after his death, he came to mean a lot to me, and so did his dream. I made that phrase one of the things that governed my life and everything that I did."

Mike was quiet, then said, "I guess I really don't know you very well, do I?"

The other smiled at him. "Hey, getting to know somebody's one of the things friendship's for."

They lapsed into silence, then Mike got up, proclaiming, "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight," Michael replied.

Mike headed for the door, then paused in the doorway, grinning at something he'd just thought of. He turned back, saying teasingly, " 'Night, Knight."

Michael spun around, doing his best not to laugh too loudly. "You're starting to sound like Sunny!"

Mike grinned at him and breezed out the door.

Michael chuckled again. One of Sunny's favorite pastimes was making up puns, good or bad, and now Mike was doing the same thing! I guess it's true that partners really do have a strong influence on each other. I know that Kitt saved my life.

Pairing with the sometimes sardonic AI car twelve years ago had brought him out of an angry near-depression, giving him a real purpose and meaning in life. Kitt and he had, over time, become closer than any of the other human/robot partners that FLAG had now, despite the new programming that made each new robot's personality reflect its rider or driver's, like near-symbionts. Kitt had always had a mind of his own, his own separate self, a true soul. That had been part of what had made Michael and Kitt so close -- they were real friends. That had also caused a major problem when the leadership of the Foundation had changed and the new leader, Dawson, had changed policies. He had tried to make Kitt, now a horse because of Dawson's earlier betrayal of destroying Kitt's car body because he thought the AI was obsolete, work with another man.

This, along with other things, had been the cause of Michael and Kitt's "mutinying" and leaving FLAG. Dawson had pursued the pair for a time, insisting that Michael had stolen Foundation property. In the technical sense of the word, he had. Kitt still legally belonged to them. But Kitt's heart belonged to Michael, and vice versa, and that meant more to the two of them than rules. The Foundation had tried to separate them, and had lost both of them.

Michael sighed once again, regretfully. They had been the best operatives FLAG had had, and had loved their work, but they belonged to each other, not to anyone else, and Dawson had refused to recognize that, although his predecessor Devon had. Devon had always been a good friend to both human and AI.

But they were happy now, even if there was still some regret over leaving. He lay back down and let his mind wander. Despite his thoughts about the past, an incredible sense of peace pervaded the room. He smiled softly, thinking of Mike, and Sunny, and Kitt, and Bonnie, and -- yes, even Russel. He cared about all of them. Incredibly so. Especially... he found himself thinking about his pretty inventor friend. The easy way she smiled at him, the way she'd leaped into his arms for a hug. She felt safe with him... he knew that she would never be that free if she knew how he truly felt about her. Cut it out! he told himself. Stop it! Think about something else!

He yawned and rolled over to go to sleep. "Goodnight, Kitt," he whispered into the comlink. And goodnight, bonita, he thought to himself.

* * *

Michael awoke to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and toast. He blinked sleepily and opened his eyes. He squeezed them shut again, trying to accustom them to the light. Suddenly there was a bright blaze of sun directly in his face, and he rolled over, trying to escape the assault of a just-opened curtain.

"Rise and shine!" came a painfully cheerful voice. Michael groaned. He was not an early-morning person.

Mike came over to the sleeping bag and the detective pulled it over his head. Mike poked him in the back with one foot. "Hey, get up. We're going to the 'bad guys' base', remember? Besides, it's Christmas!" he said playfully.

A grumble rose from the depths of the sleeping bag. The younger man planted his fists on his hips. "Well, come on! You're going to miss breakfast."

Michael poked his tousled dark head out from under the covers. "Not as long as you're cooking. That first dinner was okay, but yesterday's... Let's just say it was a disaster."

Mike frowned down at him, blond hair falling over his eyes. Again. "No, Russel's cooking," he said. "Besides, how can you ruin toast?"

"You can burn it," Michael replied, pessimistically.

Mike glared at him. "Get up. That's an order!"

"I don't take orders very well."

"Get up or else."

Michael glared back. "Okay, okay! I'm up!" he gave in, though the truth was, if it came down to it, he could wipe the floor up with the younger man, with very little trouble. He wouldn't, though. Neither one of them really meant a word of it.

But it was fun to tease each other. He watched Mike leave the room, shaking his head and smiling just a little.

He untangled himself from the bedcovers, wondering what he'd been dreaming about to get himself in such a mess. He stood up and stretched, wishing that it wasn't already seven. He felt like he hadn't had near enough sleep. What time had they got to bed last night?

He grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a shower would wake him up.

By the time he wandered into the kitchen a half-hour later, Michael did feel better. He stole a store-bought muffin from Mike's plate as he passed by, eliciting a muffled protest from the offended, who had both his hands and mouth too full to do anything about it.

The thief grinned, going to the counter to pick up his plate, which was waiting for him. He put the muffin on his plate and went to sit down at the table. Mike glared at him as he bit into his prize, enjoying sweet revenge for being awakened so early.

Russel looked up from his breakfast, smiling at him. "Good morning, Michael, did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Until a little bird came in earlier and woke me up." He risked a glance at Mike, who looked fit to be tied. He grinned at him, and the younger man glared back.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Russel, who had not noticed what had transpired between the two others. He said something else, but Michael didn't hear him.

Mike looked like he was ready to snatch something of Michael's, and the crimefighter (no longer ex-, he thought to himself) was watching him, not listening to whatever else it was that the older man was saying. Sure enough, the twenty-four-year-old made a grab for his side of the table, and Michael deftly moved his plate aside, so that Mike missed. The younger man glared again.

"Ahem," came a voice intruding on their silent battle. Both looked up to see Russel staring curiously, yet exasperatedly, at them. "Would you mind explaining just exactly what you think you two are doing?"

Both brought their hands back to their sides of the table, a little embarrassed. Russel looked strangely at them, then went on with what he had been saying.

"When are you leaving for the complex? It's too bad you have to do this on Christmas Day; perhaps you should wait until tomorrow."

"No," Michael disagreed. "Today, security will be more lax than usual, so we should be safer if we go today."

Russel sighed. "Very well. When will you leave?"

"Right about now," Michael replied, getting up from the table with his plate in hand. He passed by Mike's seat and his victim finally got his revenge by snatching his toast. The dark-haired man opened his mouth to protest, but Mike just grinned and sauntered out the door, happily munching away on the other's toast. Michael glared in his direction.

Russel came up behind him. "Be careful," he said worriedly.

Michael, distracted, answered, "OK, Dev, I mean, Russel."

He put his plate down on the counter and followed Mike outside, leaving a rather bemused Russel behind. The Britishman followed them both after a few seconds, and reached the porch just in time to see them swing aboard thair respective mounts and trot toward the trees. As they reached the trail leading out of the clearing, Michael turned and called out, "Wish us luck!"

Russel called back, "Good luck!", and watched as they rode off into danger.

* * *

The foursome came out of the forest and turned onto the road, heading south. As they reached safer footing, they entered a loping canter that would get them there relatively quickly, in three hours, but would not tire the riders, who would need their energy for what lay ahead. Both horses wore English-style bridles and jumping saddles, Kitt's borrowed from Mike, both to look more normal and to provide a better seat should they need to do some "evasive manuvers". Michael chuckled quietly to himself. He was already starting to get back into the feel and vocabulary of his former, and now finally present, profession.

Sunny was being unusually quiet, he thought, especially for a horse who seemed to barely be able to shut up at times. As a matter of fact, he looked almost angry. Mike's face had that vacant expression which Michael knew meant that he and Sunny were having a telepathic conversation, so he knew he couldn't ask him what was wrong.

Kitt sighed, watching Sunny studiously ignore him. Michael followed his gaze to the golden stallion, then glanced back at him. Deciding that this had gone on long enough, he nudged the black cyber-horse gently with his toe, drawing far enough ahead of the other pair to have a private talk with his best friend.

"Okay, what's going on?" Michael asked, without preamble. I haven't seen you act like this since..." He thought back. "Oh, I don't know. This isn't like you."

Kitt turned his head slightly to see him, slowing to a trot, and then a walk. Mike and Sunny followed suit, still behind them. If the robot could have had facial expressions, he would have looked frustrated. Michael could see that emotion in the dark eyes.

"I don't know!" Kitt said, his frustration coming out in his voice. "Two days ago, he was angry at me about something. I don't know what, but except for the incident in the woodshed, he hasn't spoken to me since!"

Michael frowned, turning to glance at the others. "What did you do?"

The ebony horse tossed his head, distressed. "I don't know!"

"Hey, calm down," the human said, reaching forward to lay a hand on his friend's neck. "It can't be that bad. I know you wouldn't intentionally make him mad, so it's not really your fault."

"Maybe not, but I'm receiving the consequences!"

"Try to think back," Michael urged. "What could you have done to make him act like this?"

Kitt sighed. "I don't... except that it was just after we'd done that leap over him, coming into the clearing. But he wasn't frightened, not that I could see."

Michael frowned thoughtfully. "Wait a minute, now that I think about it, he did look a little annoyed, there, didn't he?"

"I didn't really see," the robot admitted. "The only possible clue I have to why he's acting this way is that extremely short conversation we had after you went inside."

"What conversation? What'd he say?" Michael asked.

"I'm not sure what he meant by it... He said that I was showing off, proving that I can do a whole lot of things he can't. He was angry, but I don't know why. He can do things I can't, too. Like talk to Mike in his mind." He paused. "It did hurt," he finished quietly.

Instantly feeling for his friend, Michael put one hand under the short black mane to brush Kitt's sleek coat. "I know, buddy," he said softly. "No-one really seems to understand that you are mentally human. They assume they can't hurt your feelings, because, as a 'machine'," he bit off somewhat bitterly, "you wouldn't have any."

The cyber-horse leaned into the touch for a moment, then as Michael took his hand away, he remarked, "Sunny wasn't really acting like that. It was like he was trying to hurt my feelings."

Michael raised both eyebrows, settling back in the light saddle. "Well, has it ever occured to you he might be just a little bit jealous?"

Kitt blinked. "Jealous? Why should he be?"

"Well, you didn't have a very good reason either, that time that Bonnie built that little spy robot, SID. It didn't even have artificial intelligence, it was just a machine, but you were as jealous as all-get-out anyway just because you didn't have her full attention anymore."

Kitt made a sound that was almost like a growl, causing his rider to grin. "Don't remind me of that thing."

"If you ask me, Sunny has a better excuse than you did. You can do things he can't, like jump like that for instance."

Kitt started to protest, and Michael cut him off. "I'm not sticking up for him, he shouldn't have gotten mad."

Kitt looked self-satisfied for a moment.

But Michael went on. "But look at yourself, pal. It's been eight years since SID was destroyed, and you're still holding a grudge. If you ask me," he said again, "you're acting kind of childish."

Kitt's head snapped up. "Childish? Why would you say that?"

"Hey, it's not an insult. I'm just trying to make you see that you act pretty silly sometimes, too. You didn't have any reason for hating that little thing except that, while it was around, you weren't Bonnie's 'baby' anymore. You were acting like a two-year-old with a new baby in the house!"

The robot glared for a second, then couldn't stay angry at his partner. He drooped his head a little. "I suppose you are right," he admitted. "I never saw it from that point of view before."

"Well, that's the way it looked," Michael told his partner.

Kitt looked back at him. "That fact still doesn't make me feel much better about Sunny."

Michael smiled. "Yeah, but maybe you both have problems with jealousy. I'm no psycologist, but... maybe you should work them out together."

There was silence for quite a few seconds, then a quiet "Maybe you're right, Michael," came up from the cyber-horse.

The beat of hooves on the ground behind them caused both to turn around. Sunny came cantering up. "Hey," Mike called. "Aren't we going?"

"Yeah, we just had to have a little talk," Michael replied, then said to his partner, "Okay, let's go, pal." He came out of his relaxed position, taking up the reins and sitting forward as Kitt jumped into an easy lope.

Mike watched them for a second, wondering what they'd been talking about. He knew he'd just given Sunny a good talking-to about his sulking around. Maybe the feelings were mutual between the two horses.

Lost in thought, he wasn't ready when Sunny, with a little hop, broke into a canter behind the other pair. He almost fell off. "Take it easy," he told his alien friend, then settled into the motion and followed the crimefighters to what he hoped wouldn't be all of their deaths.

* * *

The place was *huge*. No, Mike corrected himself, enormous was a better word. There was a high stone wall around the premises, and a large building towered above it, even from where they were standing in the trees outside. Smaller buildings were grouped haphazardly around the larger one, and they were by no means little, either. Mike blew out a held breath, whistling.

"Big, isn't it?" Michael said from beside him. Mike looked over at his friend, who was also staring at the complex. Michael gave him a somewhat wry look, saying, "I don't think I've been in a place this big, either, and I've been in a lot of big places."

Sunny flicked an ear. "Are you sure you can get out?"

"I hope so," replied Mike.

Michael glanced back at them. "Oh, we should be able to. It's been my experience that the most impressive-looking sites are usually the least heavily guarded. They just depend on the looks of the place to keep out unwanted visitors."

Mike frowned. "Isn't that kinda dumb?"

The older man shrugged. "That's just the way they do things. Actually, crooks are pretty predictable." His eyes were running back and forth along the wall as though looking for something.

"Whatcha looking for?" Mike asked.

"The door. There." Michael pointed to a gate set in the wall. He turned and gave Mike a mischievous grin. "Want to have a little fun?" He nudged Kitt into a trot out of the bushes and down the snow-covered road, where patches of brown dirt were showing through as the white started to melt under the bright sun.

"He really likes this kind of stuff, doesn't he?" Mike said to no one in particular. Sunny tossed his head in agreement with his rider's head-shaking, and trotted after the black horse. They caught up at the halfway point. "What are we going to do?" Mike asked as he saw the guardhouse. "I mean, we can't exactly just saunter in there as if we belong." Michael glanced over at him, then reached into his coat pocket and tossed something Mike's way. "That's exactly what we're going to do." Mike squawked a little in surprise, catching the object that the other had thrown. He grabbed Sunny's reins again with one hand, using the other to open the flat little wallet. To his surprise, he saw his picture on a very realistic ID card stating that his name was Timothy Scott, and that he worked at the complex. "Hey," he asked Michael in surprise. "Where'd you get this?" The crimefighter glanced back at him. "I asked Bonnie to make these when I went to get the code. I just brought along some photos. Pretty good, isn't she?" Mike stared at his for a second, then stuffed it in a pocket. "I'll say," he agreed. "You still have the code?" "Of course," Michael replied. _Isn't he a little *too* confident?_ Sunny asked his friend. _I think so,_ Mike thought back. _But he is the professional here, so we'd better just follow him and hope for the best._ All four came up to the gate, and Mike swallowed. "I hope this isn't a big mistake," he muttered under his breath. The man on duty at the guardhouse came out, calling "Halt!" In Mike's opinion, the man looked bored. Then, to his surprise, Michael trotted up past him, stopping at the gate raggedly and practically falling off Kitt's back, right next to the guard. _He looks absolutely terrible,_ Mike noted. The guard apparently thought so too, and any suspicion melted away as he reached out to catch the obviously extremely fatigued man. "Please," the detective whispered in a harsh voice, "I need water." "Certainly," said the guard, hurriedly helping the stranger stand and leading him towards the guardhouse. "Right this way. You poor man! What have you been through?" The minute they were out of sight from the interior complex, however, all pretense on Michael's part vanished, and moving like a cat, he spun on the ball of one foot, bringing the other up to connect with the man's head. The guard never knew what hit him. He slumped against the wall and slid slowly to the ground. Mike stared at the display of technique and agility from a man nearly twice his age. He dismounted, leaving Sunny with Kitt, and went over to Michael, who was dragging the guard into the gatehouse, out of sight. "Well, are you just gonna stand there?" the other put in. "Help me here." Mike moved to help, but suddenly saw a flurry of motion from inside the building behind Michael, and acting totally on instinct, he yelled, "Duck!" and sprang around his startled friend to grab the chair coming down on his head. With the quick reflexes of a survivor, Michael tucked and rolled, and the chair came crashing down right where he had been standing. Mike, however, did not see him get up with Kitt's help. He was too busy fighting off a wildcat twice his weight, and with a good six inches on him, as well. The thug swung at Mike, and the young man barly had time to think, _How do I get myself in these messes?_ as he ducked. He stood suddenly, using a trick he'd seen once in a western, and swung up at the man's jaw, putting his whole weight behind the blow. He connected. Hard. He grimaced, shaking his hand and hoping all his knuckles were still intact, but the punch had done its job, and the thug stumbled backwards out the door, right into Sunny's waiting jaws. The golden stallion lifted the man high, shaking him, and then tossed him aside. The thug was out for the duration. "Pretty good," Michael said from where he had been coming to Mike's aid. "You okay?" Mike winced and nodded, rubbing his knuckles. "Except for a few bruises I know I'm gonna feel tomorrow." The two quickly pulled both men inside, tying them up with some rope that had been stashed in a corner. "I hope that holds them," Michael finally said, stepping back. "Let's go before someone notices these guys aren't at their post." The horses, who had been keeping watch, came for their riders, and, passing through the gate, they headed into enemy territory. * * * The computer screen glowed bright with the light from the outside camera, and the man watching the would-be heroes cross the border into his kingdom laughed. Not loud, but a low, cruel chuckle. _So they think they have it so easy?_ he thought. _They will soon learn that they should not trifle with me. Yet, the blond one looks familiar..._ He switched off the screen and stood up, brushing the slight wrinkles out of his dark suit. He left his desk, strolling across the dark rich, cedar-paneled room to open the padded door. Everyone in the room outside instantly ceased whatever they were doing to nod and murmur in respect as one of the most powerful men in the country passed by. He reached the polished hall, and turning down it, he came to a wide floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the point where the intruders would soon pass. Yes, there they were. Two men with horses. And yes, the blond one did look familiar, as did the palomino he was riding. The man smiled cruelly. _Yes, my young troublemaker. I may have lost you before, but now you will pay. For then and for now. And your friend with you._ Ex-senator Aaron Milton turned and strode down the hall, back to his office. He returned to his carved desk and sat slowly down in the overstuffed chair. He was still, thinking, for a moment. Then he reached out and touched a small red button set into the wood of the huge desk. "Be ready. On my order." Then he turned the camera screen back on, and looked out at his kingdom. And laughed. * * * Some distance away, another computer screen glowed. It had taken its operator quite some time to break through security systems in order to bounce the signal off an orbiting weather satellite, but now the picture was coming in. It was grainy, but it was coming in. Slender fingers reached out to the keyboard, typing in commands faster than a human eye could follow. The picture blinked and flashed, going out, then coming in again, clearer this time. A worried pair of green-brown eyes watched the figures on the screen stop before they went up to the stone wall. They watched the scuffle at the gatehouse, and the observer smiled at their victory. The screen started to flicker again as her link with the security camera started to fail, and the fingers reached out once more, typing and stabilizing the picture. She watched as the people on the screen came out of the gatehouse and mounted the horses waiting for them. She watched as they rode through the gate, into the proverbial lion's den. Then the picture died, and no amount of coaxing would bring it back. "Blast," she muttered, finally turning off the power and pushing her chair back. She jumped up and out of the desk chair, pacing back and forth across the small room and clenching her hands into fists. Her best friends were in trouble, and there was nothing she could do to help. So she fell into a chair to wait for word. Who knew how long it would take? Who knew if they'd even make it out alive? They could be killed, and there would be nothing she could do. She would just have to trust Michael's instincts and hope he didn't do something foolish. She would have to wait. But Bonnie had never been very good at waiting. At least not under these circumstances. * * * The four invaders followed as close to walls and bushes as was possible, trying their best not to be seen. The two humans had dismounted and were on foot, trying to look inconspicuous. Trying was the key word. Michael wasn't very sure that they could just sneak around with two horses practically stepping on their heels. _That's what the ID cards are for,_ he told himself. _In case we get caught._ But the worrying voice inside him wouldn't go away, and finally he turned around, halting as he did so. Mike promptly ran into him. "Hey, watch where you're going!" the younger man protested. Michael ignored him. "OK, Sunny, Kitt, this is as far as you two go," he said. Sunny laid his ears back and stomped a hind foot. "No way, I'm staying with Mike." "If you stay with us, you'll get us found out for sure," said Michael, rapidly losing his patience with stubborn horses. "And I'm not really interested in dying today. So please..." He pointed to the shrubbery. "But, Michael," Kitt was the next to protest. "No buts, pal," he replied. "Stay out of sight and be ready to come if we call, but *don't* leave this spot until we do. Got that?" The robot sighed. "Very well, but be careful." "I will," Michael promised, patting his shoulder. "Now get out of sight." He turned and walked away, Mike right behind him. The two horses, neither very happy, melted into the bushes and settled in to wait. "He's sure getting bossy," Sunny grumbled about five minutes later. Kitt turned to look at the alien horse. "Yes, but he's right, though. We aren't exactly invisible, either one of us." Sunny glared at him. "I didn't ask you." The black cyber-horse stood silent for a minute, then walked over to where the palomino was pawing at the mud created by dirt and melting snow. "Sunny, I think we need to talk." Sunny glared again. "I mean it," Kitt pushed on. "I think we need to stop this fight, whatever started it. Although I'm not quite sure about what exactly did." "You're not?" The golden stallion snorted. "Hah! You started it." "I did not!" Kitt glared back and dug a trench in the ground with a single, quick movement of one front hoof. "Sunny, all I know is that you've been mad at me for two days, and I don't know why!" Sunny looked at him. "How could you not? You were showing off, Kitt! You didn't expect me to get mad?" Not really angry despite his actions, the robot sighed, then said quietly, "So it's true what Michael said. You are jealous of me." Sunny, taken aback by the quiet reply, stopped in mid-syllable. _Maybe he really wasn't showing off,_ the alien thought. _Maybe he's telling the truth._ He turned away from Kitt. Well, that didn't really make him any less jealous! Just a little less mad. You couldn't really stay angry at someone who didn't mean it. * * * The two Michaels, still keeping close to walls, trees, and bushes, yet trying not to *seem* like they were sneaking around, finally reached the wall of the largest building, the one in the middle. They hadn't seen very many people, and the ones they had seen had ignored the two men. "I guess you were right about no-one being around," Mike stage-whispered. "I guess everyone went home for Christmas." Michael glanced at his friend. "Not the guys we're after. In a corporation this size, the boss usually lives on the grounds." He tried a doorknob, which turned easily. He opened it and they stepped into a room filled with brushes, brooms, and slightly dirty janitors' coveralls. Mike followed him in, closing the door behind him, then instantly regretting it as the only light in the room vanished. Mike tried to reopen the door, but it wouldn't budge. "Oh, great," Michael muttered. "Self-locking doors. We ought to be in a comedy act. Come on, let's look for a light switch." He felt around on the wall next to him, assuming Mike was doing the same. He brushed up against a lot of things, but no light switches. The room smelled of cleansers, detergents, and dirty wet cloths. It wasn't exactly a bed of roses in there. Suddenly there was a great crash from the other side of the darkened room. Michael turned, asking, "Are you all right, Mike?" Then a figure rose up in front of him, falling into him and knocking him down into a tangle of mops and boxes. A heavy weight landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. "Please," he gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs, "tell me you're Mike. I don't think I could handle a battle at the moment." "Yeah, it's me," came the reply. "Well then, get off!!" They both scrambled around, trying to untangle themselves from the junk and get off the floor. Now they both smelled like the rags they were laying on -- like old, musty cleanser. Michael reached up, groping for something to grab onto to help him up. His hand brushed a string, and he pulled, expecting the worst. The light came on. They both blinked in the sudden brightness, then, now with the light to see by, managed to untangle themselves and get up. Michael glanced around, somewhat disgusted with the whole thing. "Like I said, a comedy act." Mike shrugged, brushing at himself. "So now what?" The crimefighter looked around for an idea. "Perfect," he finally said. "What?" Michael waded through the mess to a clothes-rack. He flipped through the coveralls, looking at size numbers. "Now, wait a minute..." Mike started. The other held up a custodian's uniform. "It's the only way," he insisted. "No one will look twice at a couple of janitors. And they sometimes do work on Christmas." He tossed the coveralls to Mike, then reached through the clothes again. "Wait a minute," Mike said again. "You're not going to get me in one of these things." Michael pulled out another pair of coveralls. "Yes, you are. If I can handle it, so can you." Mike gave the slightly dirty clothes a jaundiced look. "I'm not going in there as a *janitor*." Michael turned around and raised both eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?" A few minutes later, two janitors stepped into the hall. One was armed with a dust rag and polishing fluid, and was holding onto a pair of fluorescent lightbulbs. The other carried a ladder. "I don't believe this," Mike grumbled as he followed his friend out the door. Michael gave him a sharp glance. "Would you rather be caught and, very likely, dead?" "Okay, okay, I get the point," said Mike, but he was still muttering to himself as they went down the corridor. A few doors down, Michael stopped at an elevator, reading a sign posted next to the doors. "Whoa!" his friend exclaimed. "Fifteen floors! This place is mighty big to be stuck out in the woods like this... what are you doing?" Michael looked up. "This is a map of the entire building. From here we should be able to find our way pretty much anywhere we want to go." "So, where are we going?" "Well, I would assume the access to this computer, since it's supposed to be secret, would be someplace high up and hard to get to." He tapped a finger on the map. "Right about here looks like our best shot." Mike leaned over to get a better look. "What's in there?" "I don't know, but it's at the core of the building." The place they were both referring to was a somewhat large room that could only be accessed from another large room, which opened onto the hallway. On the fifteenth floor. "Why are you so sure it's in there?" asked Mike. Michael glanced at him and hit the elevator button. "I'm not," he said honestly. "But we don't really have a choice. If this fizzles out, we try another room. One way or the other, we'll be searching. Might as well start on the top floor." The elevator bell sounded and anyone who had been watching would have been treated to quite a sight -- two custodians wrestling with a ladder, trying to get it in the elevator. After several minutes, Mike stopped for a second to rest. "Michael, I just have one question. Why do we need to take this stupid ladder?!" The other looked the elevator up and down. "We aren't alone in the building," he told him. "Light-changing janitors look suspicious without a ladder. Especially with a ceiling this high." Mike groaned and leaned back against the wall. "I knew this wasn't going to work." "Well, I guess we'll just have to take the stairs." Mike groaned again and slid down the wall to the floor. Michael nudged him with one foot. "Hey, get up. We have a job to do." "Yeah, like make idiots out of ourselves," Mike grumbled almost under his breath. Michael pretended not to hear him. "Come on," he said, pulling his friend to his feet. "Remember what I said two nights ago? That I need you, but you have to help, not be in the way. You promised then that you would. Think of Russel, he's counting on us!" They tried to stare each other down, then the blond man sighed and nodded. He picked up the ladder. "All right, where's the stairs." As they came out of the stairway onto the fifth floor, Mike was starting to rethink -- again -- his decision to come along. His shoulder hurt from lugging the heavy ladder, even though they did take turns, and they still had ten stories to go! When they reached solid ground, he put the ladder down with a clang. Michael turned to glare at him. "Be quiet!" "I'm trying!" "Excuse me." The third voice belonged to neither of them. They stared at each other for a minute, then turned almost as one to see a man a little older than Michael standing there. He frowned. "What are you doing?" Mike jumped in. We're changing a light that went out on the next floor." The official, for that's what he looked like, said, "Both of you?" This time it was Michael who spoke up. "No, I'm going up to the offices to clean." He held up the bottle of cleaning solution. "He needed help with the ladder, sir." The man frowned again, then said, "Identification, please." Mike was suddenly very glad that Michael had got his friend to create those fake IDs. The two took them out and handed them over. The man looked them over. "Timothy Scott, Robert Maren. Very well. First, however, there is a light in the meeting room a few doors down which needs changing. And the room could use some work, as well." The two chorused, "Yes, sir" and the man went down the hall and into the elevator. After the doors shut, Michael snapped to a super-stiff military attention and saluted smartly. "SIR!" Mike choked back laughter. "You're funny, you know that?" The older man grinned. "Hey, I was in the army. I know what military is. And this place is definitely it." They chuckled together, and then Mike thought of something. "Hey, we aren't really going to go clean down the hall, are we?" Michael looked at him as though he were daft. "You kidding? We've got enough to worry about." "Good." Just then the elevator doors opened and the same man came back out. "Are you still here?" he snapped out. "You must be the slowest workers in history! Now, down the hall, on the double!" They exchanged looks and picked up their equipment, heading down the hall. The official followed them to make sure they got started. "And when you're done in here, I have some more work for you. Well, snap to it!" he said as he left the meeting room. Mike and Michael exchanged frustrated glances and snapped to it. * * * Aaron Milton chuckled to himself as he watched them at work. They would barely finish one job and his assistant would find another. _I told you that one day you'd be working for me, Stone._ But he still wondered who the other man might be. _I have a feeling I've seen him somewhere before. But not personally. Like in a picture._ He suddenly stood, going to a wooden cabinet. He pulled out an armful of files and went to his desk. He turned on the light and started with "A". About halfway through, he found what he had been looking for. Under "K". _Well, well. So you're an outlaw now. Yes, I know of you. I've heard a lot about *you*._ He chuckled again, gloating as he leaned back in his overstuffed chair and settled in to read nearly the entire history of this man whose organization had put fear into the hearts of so many of his colleagues. This man called Knight. * * * It was after five o'clock by the time that the official -- and they still didn't know his name! -- had decided that they had done enough work and dismissed them. He had left to go home himself, not making sure that they left the building, fortunately. When they heard the sound of the elevator doors closing, Mike collapsed into a two-person lounge chair. "I don't believe that guy! We wasted a whole afternoon!" Michael looked at him for a minute, then said, "Move over." He landed next to Mike, stretching out his legs wearily and leaning back as he closed his eyes. "I don't feel like a three-hour horseback ride home in the dark. I'm forty-two years old. Who said this ought to be an easy, in-and-out operation?" "You did." "Oh." Michael looked at his watch. "Yikes! We better get busy on finding what we came here to find." "Well, we sure didn't come here to clean this guy's house, I know that!" Mike joked. "We still need to be on the alert, though. I'm sure there are some people who're working late." Mike moaned. "Not more work." "No way!" Michael agreed with him. "We'll just pretend from here on, I promise!" They sat there for another few minutes, then pried themselves off the sofa. "Let's go," Michael said. They headed for the door, leaving the ladder behind. "Let's catch the elevator up," Mike suggested. "I don't want to climb twenty flights of stairs." Michael reached the elevator first. "Uh, oh." "What is it?" The crimefighter jerked a thumb at the doors. More specifically, the sign attached to them. Mike took a closer look. "Uh, oh is right," he groaned. "Not more stairs!" The sign said, in large bold type, 'ELEVATOR WILL NOT BE IN SERVICE AFTER 5:00'. Mike looked at his watch. Just then, the long hand moved the last few millimeters to the hour position. He could almost hear the gears and other machinery in the elevator shaft grinding to a halt. He looked up to say something to Michael, but the other man was already halfway up the hall, heading for the stairwell. "For forty-two, he sure has a lot of energy," he grumbled to himself, then ran after his friend. * * * Sunny was starting to worry. Totally forgetting for the moment that he was mad at Kitt, he moved to stand beside him. The cyber-horse looked at him as he came up. "What's on your mind?" he asked the golden stallion. Sunny shook his mane. "They're still in there. They should have been out hours ago." Kitt looked away for a moment. "I know. I'm worried too, Sunny." Then he thought of something, and groaned. If he'd been human, he would have slapped himself in the head. Sunny glanced at him. "What is it?" The robot looked back, self-annoyance clearly written in his eyes. "Neither one of us should be sitting here complaining! We both have a means of communication with our partners; we should use it!" Sunny, feeling just as stupid as Kitt was feeling, trotted a short distance away to contact Mike. Kit followed suit, raising his head and eyes glazing over as he sent his signal to Michael's comlink. A rather surprised partner answered. "Kitt! Why are you... is something wrong?" "I thought there was somthing wrong with you," the cyber- horse answered. "You've been in there all day." The human muttered something. "What was that, Michael? I didn't quite pick that up." "Never mind. We ran into a little... snag." Kitt heard that his friend was breathing hard. "Michael, if I may ask, are you all right?" Michael laughed a little. "Yeah, my problem's called a million flights of stairs. Keep an eye out, buddy, and your sensors peeled as well. We could have a little trouble getting out." Kitt, who after twelve years knew his partner well, knew that that was all he was going to get out of him at the moment. "Very well. Be careful." "You too. See ya." And the link went off. Sunny was having a similar, but slightly more informative conversation with his friend. _Mike!_ he sent. _What? Sunny! How glad I am to hear your voice. You'll never believe what I've been through!_ He then proceeded to tell his alien friend everything that had happened to him and Michael, in explicit detail. _And then that guy finally let us go. After he'd worked us half to death._ There came a mental sound suspiciously like a growl. _Of course, running around with Michael is almost as bad. At the moment, he's got me running up the biggest blasted flight of stairs I've ever had the misfortune to meet!_ Sunny stifled a mental laugh. Obviously, Mike was in good health, if rather disgruntled. _Well, he should slow down in a little while. He is older than you._ From Mike came a _Hah! He keeps saying that, too, but with the energy that guy's got, I'd swear he wasn't a day over twenty! Ho, boy._ Sunny pricked both ears in an automatic reaction, even though, since this was a telepathic conversation, it wouldn't help any. _Mike, what is it?_ _We've got a little problem here. Uh, look, Sunny, I'll talk to you later, okay?_ And to Sunny's surprise, Mike cut off. At least he didn't sound like he was in trouble... yet. * * * "May I ask where you think you two are going?" The speaker was a business-suited lady with graying hair and an icy stare. She was not happy to see two custodians running up the stairs -- especially after they had quite literally run into her. "Uh," was all either one could say for a minute, then Mike held up a dusting rag he'd found in a pocket of his coveralls. It didn't exactly smell the best, but it would hopefully convince her that they were going to go do their job. Michael got the hint. "We're just going up to the offices to do a little cleaning, ma'am, then we can go home." He flashed her his best innocent smile, hoping that the offices weren't down instead of up. They would be in instant trouble. Apperently luck was on their side. The businesswoman didn't seem to think anything weird was going on. "Then carry on," she said. "But make sure you get the boss' office as well. He's been on my neck about it all day." She handed Mike a key then went on past them down the stairs. They waited until they heard the bottom floor's door close (sound carried in the metal stairwell), and then Michael let out a whoop that could of been heard all over the building, had anyone been listening. Mike slid against the wall, almost in hysterics from laughing so hard. "I don't believe it. She just comes up and hands us the key... I don't believe it!" He went off in howls of laughter again. "The key to what we've fought all day to get! How much you wanna bet me that the room we want to get into is the boss' office?" Michael was laughing almost as hard. Grinning from ear to ear, Mike shouted, "Come on!" and was halfway to the next floor before his friend could turn around, taking the stairs three at a time. "Hey, don't fall down," Michael called after him, hot on his heels. _Whatever happened to 'so tired I can't stand up'? I'm gonna get left behind, here!_ He caught up with the twenty-four-year-old by the time they reached the top floor, and they came out of the stairwell door together, both breathing hard from their impromptu race. Mike leaned back against the door, closing it. "So now where? You're the one who read the map." Michael looked up and down the hall, gasping for air. _If I'm gonna be doing this kind of thing again, I'm going to have to get back in shape._ "That way," he finally said, pointing to the left. "I think." The two headed down the hall. Once Mike slipped on the polished floor, and both almost went sprawling. They managed to stay upright, though, if just barely. Finally they were standing at the doors of the outer room. Michael raised his eyebrows at Mike. "Cross your fingers." He turned the knob and the double doors opened into an office area. "Bingo," he said softly. Mike preceded him into the room, stepping past desks and chairs. On one desk there was a pile of crumpled papers, used staples, and computer disks spread everywhere. He pointed to it. "Hasn't he ever heard of a trash can?" Michael chuckled. "This looks worse than Bonnie's work space. But we've got more to worry about than whether or not the owner of this desk is a slob." He'd noticed a solid-looking wooden door at the end of the room. "I bet that's it." "What?" Mike turned to see what he was talking about. "Oh. Yeah, that looks about right, doesn't it?" Michael led the way toward the door and stopped just outside it. "You've got the key." Mike stepped forward, inserting the key into the keyhole on the door. He turned it, and there was a satisfying click as the lock disengaged. He grinned at Michael and, taking hold of the brass handle, slowly pulled open the heavy door. They stepped inside, and the younger man sneezed, then brushed his blond hair back from his eyes. "When was the last time he had this place dusted?" Michael shrugged. "Who knows?" He brushed past his friend, and peered into the darkened room. There was a huge desk in the center of a rather large open area. "I don't believe this guy." "What?" Mike asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. The crimefighter glanced at him and walked into the room, out of the way. "This Milton guy must think he's a king or something. Take a look at this place." He reached the desk and fumbled with the switch on the desk lamp for a second before it came on. "Come on in." Mike walked into the room, feeling an unplaceable sense of deja vu. It was not a pleasant feeling. The place was... opulent was the only word he could think of. Overly-rich, with cedarwood walls, thick wine-colored carpet, and heavy expensive wood furniture. It was almost familiar. He'd met a man two years ago, just before he'd met Michael, who had lived like this. An evil man. A man who still wanted to kill him, he was sure. Michael was standing by an enormous table -- it looked like it was supposed to be a desk -- glancing through some papers he'd found on it. He looked up as Mike came over. "He has files on *everybody*. He must have hundreds here." Mike pointed to a computer screen set into the desk's surface. "Hey, what's that? What we're looking for?" Michael looked up from something he was reading and came around the corner of the desk to see what he was talking about. His eyes lit up at the sight of the screen. "Hey, yeah," he said. "I bet that is." Mike sat down in the chair, which was uncomfortably soft, and searched for a power button. "It's got to be here somewhere," he mumbled. "Aha." He pressed the little button and the screen lit up as the computer started to boot. Michael wandered off to the other side of the room, heading for a wooden file cabinet to browse around. Let Mike handle the computer -- he personally didn't know a thing about the machines. He'd always left that to Bonnie. He played around with the catch on the drawers for a while before he finally figured it out and opened one. He started to flip through the papers in the drawer. He pulled out a file and glanced at it. It was marked "M". He opened it to see, to his surprise, the name of an old friend, Devon Miles. _I wonder where he got this picture._ It was a photo he recognized -- it had been one of those crazy Christmas parties, and Dev was laughing at a joke that someone, he couldn't quite remember who, had made. Oh, yeah. It had been RC, another friend of his. _We're probably all in here,_ he realized in shock. _The whole Team!_ "Hey, Michael?" came a voice from across the room, and he almost dropped the file as he jumped and spun around. Mike was frowning at him. "Hey, are you all right?" He let out a long breath. "Yeah. What is it?" The other gave him a funny look before he said, "I need the access code. You've got it." "Oh, yeah." Michael walked over to him, pulling it out of his pocket. He put the computer printout on the desk beside his friend and leaned over to get a look at the screen. "You're there already?" "Sure. It isn't hard." Mike glanced at the sheet of paper and began to type in the code on the keyboard that he had slid out from the front of the desk. Michael shook his head. He'd never be able to figure out a computer. The only one he'd ever gotten along with was Kitt, and even then not at first. Deciding to leave the budding computer expert to his fun, the detective went back to the file cabinet. He put back the one he'd been looking at, hesitated for a moment, then decided he really didn't want to see what Milton had said about the rest of them. He closed the drawer and opened another one. _Aha! This is more like it!_ He opened a file about the company's dealings, and sat down on the floor to read it. After about two minutes, he'd discovered that this file wasn't going to help him much. _These are all legal transactions!_ Letting out a hard breath of frustration, he stood up, feeling the slight pull of muscles he hadn't used in a long time before today. _I'm sure going to be sore tomorrow._ Michael put the papers back, slamming the drawer shut loudly. Mike looked over his shoulder at him curiously, then went back to the computer. _Patience, Knight!_ he told himself. He never had had much in the way of that particular virtue. He took a deep breath, calming himself, then opened the next drawer. Just as he started to look through this set of files, Mike said from behind him, "Uh, Michael, I think you'd better come take a look at this." It wasn't the words, but the tone in which he said them that made Michael stop in his tracks. Mike sounded part horrified and part triumphant. He shut the drawer and quickly came to look over his friend's shoulder at the computer screen. "What is it, Mike?" Mike looked up at him and sort of smiled, but his brown eyes were huge. He glanced back at the screen and pointed to something on it. "Is this the kind of thing we're looking for?" Michael leaned down to better read the small type. The file contained information about all sorts of illegalities. Gun-running, deals with foreign powers, industrial espionage... The list went on and on, each detail of Milton's crooked dealings clearly written for them to see. "Yesss," he whispered, drawing the sound out. Then he looked over at Mike. "Can you print it? We need a hardcopy." Mike brushed back his blond hair. "I think so. Let me play with it and figure out how." Michael stood up. "Well, don't take too long." He headed back towards the file cabinet. At least *it* was somewhat interesting. Talking to a computer meant talking in gibberish, at least as far as he was concerned. It was a good ten minutes, and about thirty look-at-your-watch-and-gripe stops, before the sound of a printer came to the impatient detective, who was pacing a bored path into the rug. He instantly halted and changed direction, heading for the desk. "You've got it?" "Yeah. You know, this thing's fascinating! I could spend all day playing with it!" Mike looked up at him, eyes shining. "No, we are not going to stay here," Michael said flatly. "You're getting as bad as Bonnie. We've got it, let's go." He aimed for the door. "Wait a minute." Mike's voice stopped him. "Don't you want to see what's in this file?" Michael turned around. "What's in it?" "Don't know yet. But there're a million securities around it, though." The younger man was furiously typing away. Despite his growing anxiety, Michael was curious. He walked back to the desk and stood behind Mike's chair, watching over his shoulder. The computer finally beeped, displaying the message REQUEST FOR ACCESS GRANTED. DISPLAY PASSWORD. "Oh, no," Mike groaned. "What would this guy use for a password?" Michael shrugged, then an old memory came to him, and he suddenly had an idea. "Try Aaron." Mike blinked up at him. "That's stupid. Who'd use something as simple as their name for a password?" "Just try it." The younger man looked at him like he was nuts, then made an exasperated face. "How come I can never win an argument with you?" he griped. "Okay, I'll try it." Underneath the blinking message, he typed AARON. The computer sat there for a moment, then beeped again and displayed a screen full of type. Mike stared at it. Then he looked up and stared at Michael. "How'd you know?" The crimefighter shrugged. "It's the mentality of this kind of crook. They're the most dangerous because they're the most powerful, but they also generally have the biggest egos on record. Nothing's more important to them than themselves." "But you *knew*," Mike said, still dazed. Michael gave a rather sheepish smile. "Actually, I didn't. I just guessed. It was a long shot, but it paid off." Mike shook his head, then turned back to the screen. "'Project Christmas Night'," he read. "Wonder what that means." Michael frowned. "Christmas night? That's tonight." "Yeah. Let's see what he's up to." Mike hit the enter key and another screenful of type came up. "Oh, my..." he gasped. Michael, who'd turned away when he'd thought he'd heard a sound, looked back at his friend. "What is it?" Mike slowly lifted his head from the screen. His face was drained white, and horror was written in every feature. Suddenly Michael knew there was something terrible happening that night. "What does it say?" he pushed. Mike swallowed hard before answering. "He's planted a bomb to go off tonight at midnight. At the Los Angeles convention center." "WHAT?!" Michael didn't care if he was shouting. The other nodded, swallowing again. "There's a rocket scientists' convention being held there. He wants to get the plans for a new missile that's being displayed. Then he's going to destroy the originals and their creator so that he's the only one who knows how to build it! Michael, he's going to kill over two thousand people!" His eyes were so wide that the brown was barely discernable around the black pupils. Michael stood slowly, eyes glazing as he fought to quench the pure hate that was rising up inside him. He finally got himself under control, mind going a hundred miles an hour as he tried to think of what to do next. "Michael!" came his friend's voice. "What are we going to do?! We can't just let those people die!" Michael gritted his teeth. "No, we can't. And we're not going to." He looked back down at Mike. "Is there a deactivation code?" Mike's eyes widened. "Yeah! Let me find it." He turned back to the screen. Michael, no longer bored by the computer, hung over his shoulder to see what was going on. Finally he snapped out an angry curse under his breath. The lines of print on the screen told them, in no uncertain terms, that they would need to be within five hundred feet of the detonator in order to switch it off, or do it manually. "O-kay," he said, "so we're going to L.A." "What? L.A.? How are in the world are we going to get to L.A.?" Michael looked back at Mike. Then he glanced at his watch/comlink. "It's six o' clock. We have six hours. It will take five and a half to get there at Kitt and Sunny speed. Memorize the code, and let's get out of here!" Mike started to protest, but realized that it was the only way that they could save those people. Besides, he didn't think he dared argue with Michael anyway. His friend looked like he had two nights ago when Russel had told his story. Only even more dangerous. His bright blue eyes were hard and flashing with a cold, deadly anger, and there was an almost snarling undertone to his words. "Okay," Mike agreed, turning back to the screen and reading the code there. It was simple -- 1A2B3C4. Almost childishly simple. "Come on," Michael snapped. _Didn't he ever learn about a thing called patience?_ Mike wondered. "Okay," he said. "I've got it." "All right," the crimefighter said, already moving toward the door -- fast. "Let's go, already!" Mike hit the power-off button and scrambled out of the oversized chair. He felt like he was drowning in it, but he finally got free and ran after his friend. "Hey, wait for me!" They ran down the stairs, going just slow enough to keep from falling. There was a certain amount of recklessness on Michael's part, however, and Mike wondered if he even cared if he was hurt in this endeavor. They were halted on the fourth floor by a block in the stairway. "What?!" Michael began, then turned to the door leading to the hallway. "OK, we find another set of stairs." Mike would have protested, but he didn't feel like it would be safe to cross his angry companion. He followed him out onto the floor and down the hall, trying to keep up. He was fast, but Michael was faster! He skidded around a corner, and abruptly ran into his friend's back. Michael turned halfway around and glared at him, pressing a finger to his lips in a 'Be quiet!' gesture. Mike frowned, asking why with his face. Michael nodded towards a door, then motioned with his hands that they would encircle it. Mike wondered why, but went around quietly to the other side of the door, which was cracked open. Michael counted down with his fingers -- three, two, one, go! They sprang together, knocking the door open and landing on the other side. Mike instantly knew why the detective had done this. A gray-haired man spun around in surprise as they crashed in. Mike suddenly stopped in his tracks, horrified. "You!" he breathed hoarsely. He felt, more than saw, Michael stop and stare at him. "You know this guy?" his friend asked. The man, Chris Morrel, turned to the pair and raised his eyebrows, smiling slowly and evilly as he straightened to his full height. "Well, well," he chuckled cruelly. "So you did come to me after all, young Stone." * * * There was something wrong. Something very wrong. Sunny wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it had to do with his human friend. "Mike!" he gasped. "I have to help Mike!" He galloped out of his hiding place, right past Kitt. The black cyber-horse jerked his head up, startled. "No, Sunny, wait!" Kitt sprang for the stallion, managing to grab ahold of his mane with his teeth. The alien was abruptly jolted to a painful halt, nearly falling over backwards. He spun around, practically snarling at the other horse. "What do you think you're doing?! I have to help Mike!" He tried to jump up and over Kitt, but the robot leaped up, as well, and Sunny hit his side, falling to the ground. Kitt landed and spun around, running back to try to keep him from leaving the trees. Sunny sped up as quickly as he could, but the robot skidded around to block his path. "Wait, Sunny, listen to me!" The palomino slid to a stop, glaring with his ears laid flat against his skull. "What?!" "Sunny, Mike told you to stay here! If you're going to expect me to let you just run out there, you should at least have a good reason!" The cyber-horse paused for a moment. "Besides," he said in a quieter tone of voice, "if your friend's in trouble, Michael very likely is as well. At least tell me what's wrong!" Sunny tried to calm himself. Kitt did have a point, he needed to know what was the matter. "Mike's scared of something," he finally said. "He's in trouble. He just found out something that absolutely terrifies him." "But is he in danger?" Sunny glared at Kitt. "I would think so!" "But are you sure?" the robot pressed. Sunny glared up at the sky and tried hard to remember that Kitt cared just as much about his friend as he did about Mike. His fighting instincts told him to rear up and attack the one keeping him from his bond-friend, but his common sense stomped the impulse down, knowing that Kitt was not a real horse, but a robot. And one built to fight as well. The ebony form before him could kill him with one blow. _But he wouldn't,_ a little bit of sanity crept in. _Kitt cannot kill, that's one of the things written into his deepest self. Besides, he's my friend._ Sunny drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He looked back down at his worried friend. "I don't know if he's in danger," he said. "But I have to help him!" Kitt seemed to think this over, then inclined his head in agreement. "Yes, we must help them. But we would do best to find out what is going on, first. We should contact our friends and speak to them before we jump in." Sunny thought about it, then nodded. * * * Something had gone wrong. The two Michaels and their equine friends should have been back hours ago. Russel watched the slender inventor stride across the floor toward him. "Russel," she greeted him worriedly. "Any word?" All the Britishman could do was shake his head. Bonnie turned away, pressing her clasped hands to her lips. "They should have at least called," she said, pacing back across the little room. "What's happened to them?" It was said with such feeling that Russel couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "I don't know," he said, following her across the floor. "But from the little time I had to get to know them, I'm sure that they can get out of whatever trouble they managed to get themselves into." "Please!" Bonnie spun around, blinking back tears that she obviously didn't want him to see. "Don't say things like that! I don't want to think they're in trouble!" She drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I know Michael, if he's in trouble, he's in big trouble. He never does *anything* halfway, that crazy..." She spun around and started pacing again. Russel did feel sorry for her. She obviously cared a lot about her friend, even though he seemed to drive her up the wall. Of course, Russel could see why that would be. Even having only known him for one full day, he had noticed that Michael wasn't always very serious. And that was an understatement. He turned to follow Bonnie again. She paced for a few more minutes, then collapsed onto the couch, dropping her face to her hands. "Why did he have to go?" came her muffled voice. "I just found him again. He's the only real friend I have." Russel had a strong suspicion she was trying very hard not to cry. The older man stood behind her, uncertain of what to do. He wasn't used to dealing with emotional females. Finally he walked around the couch back and sat next to her. He carefully reached out and touched her shoulder. She glanced up at him. "What?" "Is there anything I can do to help?" She shook her head, turning to lay a gentle hand on his arm. "Thank you. But no. I wish there was." She searched his face with hazel eyes. "You care about them, too, don't you?" Russel blinked in surprise. She was very good at reading people's faces. "Yes, I do," he admitted. "They are risking themselves for me, a stranger. That is the strongest proof of a good heart that I know of." She was silent for a second, then said softly, "I don't know Mike Stone. But I know my friend. And he does have a good heart. I know he seems shallow on the outside, but he is one of the two kindest men I've ever known." "Who's the other?" the Britishman asked, knowing it wasn't really his place to ask. Bonnie looked at him, as though thinking the same thing, then she finally said, "He's dead." "I see." There wasn't really anything he could say to that. "I'm sorry." "It happened a long time ago." She stood back up, spinning about as though she were ready to start pacing again. Then she turned back to Russel. "Thank you for caring." She said it so quietly that he knew she was totally sincere. He gave the inventor a fatherly smile. "Let me help." After a few moments, she smiled back tentatively, wiping her eyes. "All right. But I don't really think there's much we can do. We'll just have to believe in them." * * * Michael stared at the man. "Who are you? And what do you want with Mike?" The man glanced away from Mike and at him. "Don't you know?" He chuckled again. "I know who you are." "Don't play games with me!" Michael shouted. "He's my friend, and I won't let you hurt him!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mike glance at him in surprise. The man laughed, and a chill ran through him. _This man's insane,_ he realized. Unconsciously, he moved to come between the man and his young friend. "Guess, my self-sacrificing would-be hero. You should know who I am." Suddenly, Michael did know. "Aaron Milton!" he exclaimed. Milton laughed again. "Well done, Knight." Mike came up beside him. "So now you're Milton? Last time I saw you, your name was Chris Morrel. You nearly killed me!" Michael was surprised at the rage in his voice. Milton frowned. "Too bad I didn't. You nearly destroyed me! I had to hide from the FBI for years because of you." Then he smiled dangerously. "But I told you, Stone, that someday you would come crawling to me. And now, I will have my revenge. I will be rid of you, and of this troublemaker," he said, gesturing to Michael. "You have always escaped death in the past," he snarled at the crimefighter, "but now, let's see how well you survive without that dratted black car!" He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the pair were surrounded by armed guards, all with their guns pointed directly at them. "Oh, and by the way," Milton said lightly, "don't depend on that talking horse of yours to rescue you, either, Stone. Where we are going, no horse could get to. Or perhaps, jump to?" He giggled and gestured to the guards. "Shall we go?" In desperation, Michael spun around, determined to try to fight his way out. He leaped at the guard directly behind him, tackling him and knocking the gun away. He spun around again, seeing Mike doing the same to the side, and kicked out, hitting a guard's hand and sending another gun flying. He kicked again, and the guard fell to the floor. Unfortunately, he'd lost his balance, and he fell as well. Three others instantly tackled him, and he fought to get free. But the day's adventures had taken their toll on the forty-two-year-old, and they hauled him upright, being none too careful. Off to the side, he saw them overpower Mike, as well, although he took pleasure in the fact that there was a guard out for the count over there, and a couple others were rubbing assorted bruises. He gave his young friend a fierce grin. His own victim was awake, but not in any condition to be a danger. Milton stalked up to the two being held by his guards. "Good try," he spit out. "I should have expected that you wouldn't give in without a fight, either one of you. Next time, I won't forget!" He pointed with an angrily shaking finger. "Take them to the balcony now!" he ordered the guards. "We can't afford to keep them around any longer." He glared at the pair, who glared defiantly back. As the guards pushed them out the door, Michael managed to get close to Mike. He whispered to him, "Use your bond with Sunny. Tell him the deactivation code, and make sure he tells it to Kitt!" He started to say something else, but the guards yanked them roughly apart. He hoped that Mike would listen and for once obey. Even if they died, the bomb must not go off. Kitt could deactivate it if he had the code. Thinking of his partner, he glanced down at the watch-link, and was suddenly surprised to see the red signal light start to blink. He glanced around furtively, hoping no-one was watching him, then slowly moved his hand to touch the button that would allow him to talk to his robot pal. Mike's eyes lost their glazed look from the telepathic link to Sunny, and he looked over at Michael, nodding slowly. Michael gazed back, his eyes flicking from the blond man to the guards to his comlink, covered by his hand. Mike got the message. He suddenly shouted, spinning around and fighting to escape down the hall. Everyone, including Michael's guards, leaped to stop the wild young man. Michael, for the moment free, brought his wrist to his mouth. He wasted no words. As Kitt's worried voice reached him, he cut his friend off, saying, "Code Blue, buddy. I'm sorry, Kitt'n, but I guess this is good-bye. Get the code from Sunny, and save those people." He paused, then said quietly, "And take care of Bonnie for me." Just then Milton noticed what he was doing. "Get him!" the leader shouted, and suddenly he was grabbed by nearly the whole contingent of guards. He put up a quick fight, but then gave up, knowing he couldn't possibly win. Milton stalked up to him and tore the link away from him. "I should have known you'd have allies. Now we must hurry, thanks to you." His words were deadly quiet. He dropped the comlink on the floor and ground it under his heel. "Take them now." * * * Kitt stood stunned for a moment, unable to believe that it was true. Code Blue? That meant to give him up as dead, to follow his last wishes, to get out alive if possible. It couldn't be. Not after twelve years together, not after watching him get out of one scrape after another. It just couldn't be true! He replayed the hurried message, hoping he'd heard wrong. He hadn't. But he did hear something else that he'd been too shocked to notice. Get the code from Sunny? Save those people? What code, what people? He looked around for Sunny, then saw the golden stallion running towards him. He met him halfway. "Sunny, what's Michael talking about? What code?" Sunny said at the same time, "Kitt, listen! There's a bomb..." They both stopped and backed up. Sunny went first. "There's some sort of bomb at the Los Angeles convention center, set to go off at midnight! Mike gave me a deactivation code to give you, 1A2B3C4! He says we have to go there to stop it!" Kitt automatically filed the code away in his memory as he stared. "But we can't leave them! They're in danger!" Sunny's blue eyes were wide. "Mike could die!" "Yes, and..." _'Code Blue, buddy. I guess this is good-bye.'_ Kitt suddenly felt a surge of an emotion he'd never experienced before. Rebellion. _No! I won't let you die!_ But he'd been ordered specifically... The preservation of human life was his primary reason for exsistence! The many outweighed the one... But his partner... He couldn't die! He just couldn't! Kitt needed him! Yet... Code Blue... The two sides of him warred for a few moments, then all at once, something that had been holding him snapped free, and the human side of him overpowered even his primary programming. "NO!!!" he shouted, both in his mind and out loud. He reared, giving a defiant equine scream, and spun about on his hind legs. He launched himself at full cybernetic speed, not for the open gate, but back to the main building, where his partner, his friend, was. He was barely aware of Sunny next to him, trying valiantly to keep up. All he knew was that Michael was in danger, and he wasn't going to lose him now!!! * * * Michael couldn't believe this. _I just told my only hope to get out of here._ But two thousand people were more important than one mutinous ex- FLAG operative. Yet, there had to be a way out of this. There always was... Oh, who did he think he was fooling? Certainly not himself. He was going to die. _Might as well accept the fact._ Yet he couldn't. He was too much of a survivor to give up easily. He always had been. And there were always options; he just had to find one. Then suddenly he remembered Russel. The hurt in his gray eyes as he told his story, the relief when he and Mike had promised to help. He was counting on them; without Milton's demise, he could never go home. And it had been two years for him, away from his family. Michael's resolve hardened. They had to get out of this, if only for Russel's sake. They had to take this nut down. Mike leaned sideways, trying to talk to him. Milton backhanded the young man hard acoss the face and Mike tried to lunge at the man. Milton laughed. And all of a sudden Michael saw himself in Mike Stone. That was almost exactly what he would have done ten years ago, in that circumstance. The realization hit him like a blow to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Another reason to get out. That fiery spirit had to be kept alive. Russel, Mike,... if he had a third person, he would have himself totally convinced. Now who else? The guards pushed them roughly around a corner, and Michael felt an old familiar feeling, the anger burning deep inside. _Yes!_ he thought. _That's it, get mad!_ Suddenly he knew who else. Bonnie. The inventor needed him more than anyone did. At least emotionally. He was her only real friend; she would be devastated if he died. He remembered the look of mixed joy, disbelief, and pain when she had seen him for the first time in two years. The protectiveness and love he had felt that day rose up in him again, and he let them mingle with the anger to create a great determination. Michael narrowed his eyes as he and Mike were shoved down the hall. He channeled his emotions into strength, forcing his tired body to respond and be ready. He held himself poised at the brink of lashing out, waiting for the right moment. Mike stared over at him, and he knew that the other was wondering what was up. He didn't dare show him, though. His attack had to come as a surprise to Milton and the guards. He wasn't as physically strong as he used to be, and so he had to rely on his wits, be sneaky. Fortunately, he'd had a lot of practice at that. Milton opened a set of glass doors and ushered the two out onto a balcony, smiling with a cruel triumph as the winter wind buffeted them. "Look well, my friends. It will be the last sight you ever see." Michael walked just close enough to the edge to look down through the darkening twilight. He forced himself not to show any apprehension, but that wasn't easy. It was a four-story drop to a pile of sharp, jagged-looking, ice-covered rocks. Mike, not as skilled at hiding what he was feeling, gulped beside him. "Please tell me you have a way out of this one." Michael glanced at him and Milton laughed again. Michael gritted his teeth, forcing himself to save his strength for when he could use it. But that laugh was really getting on his nerves. "You will now meet the end you should have met years ago," Milton said gleefully. Michael fought to keep from snarling out an answer. The man's cliche-like statements were driving him crazy. Suddenly, his anger turned to alarm for a moment as a burly pair of guards took ahold of Mike and brought him to the very edge. "Youngest first," Milton said, then motioned to the guards to throw him over. Michael tensed, on the verge of springing, when he was suddenly startled to see black and gold streaking toward them. Could it be?! He'd told him to go to Los Angeles! But if it was him, that could be their way out! Kitt saw the uniformed men pick up Mike Stone and hold him over the drop-off. Sunny gasped behind him. Quickly, he picked up his pace, pushing himself and abruptly leaving the palomino behind. He noticed the suited man, the one obviously giving the orders, motion with his hand, and suddenly Mike was falling. Kitt paralleled the side of the building, and, without breaking stride, threw all his cybernetic strength into a tremendous leap upward. Mike felt himself falling. He tried not to cry out, but the urge was very strong. Just as he opened his mouth, what little wind he had left was knocked out of him as he suddenly landed, way short of the ground, on a hard something. Something that felt suspiciously like a horse back. He didn't stop to think about it; he threw his arms around a black neck and hung on with every muscle in his body. They hit the ground hard, and he nearly fell off. Then his mount reared, and he slid off onto another back, this one gold. _Sunny?_ he asked. _Mike, are you all right?_ came the alien horse's answer. Mike scrambled into the saddle and looked back just in time to see Kitt leap again. The moment Mike was tossed over, Michael let all his fury loose on the insane man who was trying to kill them. He uncoiled himself in a leap directly at Milton. A guard saw him just in time and jumped in the way. Michael's momentum carried the guard over the low railing, however, and he fell to the ground below. Michael winced, but was suddenly preoccupied with not falling himself as another of the men pounced at him. He ducked in an agile movement he hadn't been sure he would be able to make, and this one went over as well. By this time, the others had gotten wise to the crimefighter's tactics (not that he really had any), and were attempting to encircle him. He decided that his partner had had enough time to get Mike to the ground, and as he rolled down and away from a blow, he shouted, "Kitt! I need ya!" He hadn't really thought about what he had said, it had just been automatic. He realized, after the fact, that that was the call he'd used to use when he was in trouble, years ago. And at this moment, just like before, he put his life in the robot's figurative hands as he jumped up from the ground and did something none of his opponents had even dreamed he would. He ran full speed for the balcony edge. Michael reached the edge, and without hesitation, he vaulted over the railing and launched himself into the air just as a bullet whistled past his ear. _Uh, oh,_ he thought. _They're bringing out the heavy artillery._ That was all he had time to think before he was met by his friend midair. He hung on for literal dear life as they headed back towards the ground. They landed with a jolt, and, barely stumbling, Kitt galloped towards the gate, Mike and Sunny just ahead of them. Somehow, his human rider managed to get into the English saddle, and grasped the reins. As they tore through the gate, Michael turned him down the road, pointing in the direction of Los Angeles. "What are you doing here?" he managed to shout once he'd -- sort of -- got his breath back. "I thought I told you to get out of here." Kitt tossed his mane, flattening his ears against his head to keep the wind out of them. "I disobeyed," he shouted back. "So sue me!" Michael grinned. That was an expression the robot had borrowed from him. "I'm too happy to see you, buddy," he called in reply. Sunny fell back, beside them, and Mike shouted over the cold wind, "Where are we going?" "To L.A.!" he told the younger man. "To stop a bomb!" And the race against time began. * * * Milton picked himself up, more furious than he had ever been in his life. How had that crazy Knight character managed that? He'd thought all the man's friends were dead. And he knew that it hadn't been Stone who was responsible. "Get those men!" he screamed at his guards. The ones that were left, anyway. They practically scrambled over one another to get out of his way. He spun and glared as he watched the two invaders take off on horseback. Suddenly he realized what had happened. That black horse! But he'd thought the robot destroyed years ago! He spun back towards his men, suddenly speaking in a quiet, dangerous tone. "Get the helicopter ready. I know where they are going." If the crimefighter's methods were still the same as they had been when he worked for that Foundation thing, there was only one place they would be heading after they had read his plans. They would try to stop him. Milton's snarl turned to an evil grin. From what he had heard from others, and read in his files, Knight had one flaw that could be easily manipulated. He cared too much about other people. And Milton would make sure that he, and that meddling boy Stone, ran right into his trap. * * * The cold wind blew against Mike's body, threatening to tear him from Sunny's back. He had let go of the reins and was gripping the white mane, burying his hands and face next to the warm horse. _Thanks,_ he told his friend. _If it hadn't been for you two, I'd be dead._ To his surprise, Sunny tossed his head. _I am glad that you are safe, more glad than I can even say. But I didn't get to do anything! Kitt's always the one getting you out of trouble, why does he think he's so hot?_ Mike couldn't say anything for a minute. _You're still mad at him? Sunny, he saved my life! How could you?_ _But he...!_ The golden stallion was mentally sputtering. _Listen to me, Sunny!_ Mike ordered. _He is not, and never has been, from my point of view at least, showing off. He can do things you can't, like that jump that saved my life, but he isn't boasting about it. He's doing what he was created to do. He was built to do things like this, chasing down these kinds of crooks!_ Sunny protested, _But Mike, how come I can't be the one to rescue you? I want to do things like that for you!_ Mike suddenly understood. _Sunny, listen,_ he said gently. _You mean more to me than he ever could. He's not my partner, he's Michael's. You're my partner, Sunny, and you'll always mean more to me than anything else. Besides,_ he continued on a lighter note, _Kitt can't do some of the things you can, either. For one thing, he can't talk to Michael the way we're talking right now!_ Sunny finally laughed a little. _I suppose. But I still wish he wasn't always the hero._ The ones that were being talked about were having their own problems. Michael was feeling just a little bit jealous of Mike's position on Sunny. He didn't have a warm horse to put his hands on. He was freezing. _I wonder if I'll be able to get out of this position, or if I'll be permanently frozen here,_ he thought with a little chuckle. At least he had managed to get his coat zipped, and that helped. "I'm glad you're all right," Kitt said. "For a moment I'd thought I'd lost you." "I'm glad I am, too," he replied. "Kitt, why did you come to rescue us? I mean, I'm sure not complaining, but I thought you had to obey my orders! And I told you code Blue!" The robot was silent for a second, then said, "I'm not sure how I managed it. It was like something broke inside of me, and suddenly nothing was as important to me as your life. Not even obeying your orders." "So something in your programming was actually changed," Michael wondered. "I suppose. It wasn't the first time." Michael stared at him. "What do you mean?" Kitt sighed. "Just after we met, and ever since then. Nothing of this magnitude, but I have changed in other, smaller, ways. I've managed to become 'human', as you put it. I wasn't like that to begin with." He paused, then surprised his rider by saying, "I think that you have been a part of that." "Me?" "You came to mean a lot to me, Michael. You taught me how to care about someone, and not just do what I was told to. Also, you treated me as though I were human, and because of that I became human. At least that's my theory." Michael was silent for a moment, then he unpried one hand from the reins and reached out. He slid his hand up under Kitt's mane and leaned forward until he was leaning on the black neck. "You mean a lot to me, too, Kitt," he whispered, knowing Kitt could hear him even over the wind. "When I'd heard you'd been dismantled, I didn't know how I was going to live without you. I'm glad I didn't really lose you, even if you are a horse now instead of a car. I don't really care what you are, as long as you're here." It was a rarity for them to display this much of their emotional bond in public, and therefore the moment didn't last very long. He sat up and, looking around, saw Mike glance over in their direction. He motioned to the blond man, and Sunny pulled up next to them. "What are we gonna do when we get there?" Mike called to him. Michael stopped to think. He hadn't really had a plan, but now he realized that they needed one. He started to figure one out, when Mike spoke again. "We can't do it by ourselves, we need some help. Maybe we should stop and find a phone and call the cops or something!" Michael frowned. "No time. We have to keep full speed all the way there, or we'll be too late and the place will blow. We'll just have to stop the bomb, then get out and call the FBI in on these guys later." Kitt heard Michael's words. They did make sense, if he no longer had had long-distance radio capabilities. But he did, and he suddenly had an idea of his own. He started to implement it, but paused. Sunny was already mad at him because he could do things that the alien couldn't. He didn't really want to anger the golden stallion more. But he couldn't pass this chance up. He hovered at the brink of a decision, unsure. Then he made up his mind. _Michael said once that doing what is right is more important than playing up to others._ He mentally threw Sunny an apology, wishing for just a moment that he could really talk to him in that fashion. Then the black cyber-horse sent a signal he had thought that he would never dare use again. He sent it south, knowing the specialized frequency would travel over and around mountains and valleys, until it was picked up by a small receiving dish on the top of a hill, which was tuned to that particular wave-length. On that signal, he sent a distress call. Now he could only hope that they would send aid, and not a posse. Then Kitt turned his attention back to the others in his group. Michael wondered for a second what his robot pal was doing, but he was too tired and cold to really care. Mike was being quiet as well, and he settled down for a long, cold ride, which yet meant more to him than his own health. _I hope I don't get sick,_ he thought. He glanced back at Mike, who smiled a little at him, and did the only thing he really could do -- he hung on. * * * Several hours later, Harry McGregor yawned and wandered his way into the receiving station. All he wanted to do was go to bed, but he knew that the station had to be at least checked for the rare possibility of a message, even on Christmas night. What a party! He grinned to himself and yawned again. He stumbled for the coffee pot, trying to stay awake just long enough to check the message center and get across the grounds to his apartment. Then he would go to sleep and not wake up for anybody! McGregor was so busy contemplating the thought of his bed that he almost missed it. A little red light, blinking on the edge of the board. He was so surprised he nearly dropped his coffee cup. An SOS?! From who? There were no operatives out tonight, much less any robots! McGregor sat down quickly in the chair and pressed the series of buttons that would allow him to hear the message. He was even more surprised by the identity code than by the message itself, which was a standard, if old, distress signal. But the sender! How, what..? McGregor quickly wrote the message down and rushed out the door over to one of the main buildings, totally forgetting that he was tired. The young blonde girl standing in the lab he barged into glanced over her shoulder at him and glared. "McGregor, just what do you think you are doing?" she demanded. He skidded to a halt in front of her worktable, ignoring the picees of delicate equipment spread out there. "I'm sorry, but Sally, I just got the craziest message, and I don't know what to do with it!" "Why do you think I would?" she asked, but seemed mollified. She took the sheet of paper and frowned at it. She handed it back. "I can't read your handwriting." McGregor read the message out loud. "SOS, repeat, in need of assistance in mission. Send help immediately." Sally frowned at him. "What's so weird about that? That's a standard call." He shook his head in exasperation. Dr. Barstowe's replacement was nearly as dense as the inventor had been sometimes. "It's an old signal. Not a current one. And the identification signature..!" Sally gritted her teeth and put her head in her hands. "Harry, it's ten at night. Please explain yourself!" McGregor sighed. "The automatic ID says that the sender is the Knight Industries Two Thousand!" "Who?" Then Sally's green eyes widened. "Kitt?! But why would he call us? He could be hunted down by the signal!" He shrugged. "He must be in big trouble! This says he's heading for the Los Angeles convention center to stop a bomb planted by a guy named Milton! What should we do?" Sally stared at him as though she couldn't believe her ears. "We're going to help them, of course! What did you think?!" "We could get in big trouble with Dawson if we get caught." The technician's eyes narrowed. "I know. But we can't let Kitt and his partner be killed, either. Get the Storm ready." McGregor ran out the door and for the hangar. * * * They had been running at Sunny's full speed for hours. The winter night wind, already cold, was magnified by the speed at which they were traveling, and the golden stallion was getting tired. So tired... but they still had so far to go. He couldn't quit! He couldn't let his body quit on him, either. These thoughts kept running through Sunny's mind, over and over. He had long since gotten past being jealous of the untiring ease with which Kitt ran. He was too tired to be jealous. Too tired to do anything except throw heart and soul into just keeping going. He had to make it! He had to! And that meant more to him than anything. Mike hung on to Sunny's mane, trying to hide his face from the cold wind. Sheer determination was the only thing holding him on the horse's back at the moment. Those people! They couldn't all die because of a madman! The same madman who, two years ago, had put him in the hospital for the first time in his life with a bullet in his side. He nearly hadn't survived. Only his bond with Sunny had brought him through. And though they had done their best, the doctors had called it a miracle that he had lived at all, much less been healthy and active only six months later. The same thing couldn't happen to these people. Milton had to be brought down. And as he thought these things, Mike felt a growing hate in him. He *had* to get his revenge! He had to bring Milton down. Michael had long since forgotten the reins. Kitt was in complete control. He was so tired, and his abused body ached so much! He could barely keep from falling onto his mount's neck and going out, but he knew that the moment he did that, he'd fall off and very likely kill himself at the speed with which they were traveling. His body demanded sleep, but he denied himself that pleasure. Though it wasn't easy. He was strangely reminded of a night, twelve years ago,in 1982, during which he and Kitt had completed their first mission. He had been shot, and wounded in the shoulder. He had had trouble staying awake, just like now, and the only thing that had kept him going was his absolute determination to destroy that operation. And his lust for revenge, for their leader had nearly killed him more than once. Now that he was long past that incident, Michael knew that he had been wrong to want revenge so badly. He should have kept a clear head. Now why was he thinking of that? He glanced over at Mike and, suddenly, realized that he was seeing the same look in the twenty-four-year-old's eyes as he himself had worn that night. Mike was so much like him, he wondered why he hadn't seen this one coming. Mike wanted revenge, and nothing was going to stop him. Michael could only hope his young friend would keep a clearer head than he had. Kitt knew that his companions were exhausted, yet he kept pushing on. He hoped that his message to FLAG had gotten through, and that they wouldn't come ready to capture him and Michael. Milton had to be stopped. "Kitt?" came his partner's voice, and he turned nearly his full attention on his friend. "Yes?" "When will we be there? I lost my watch." Kitt sighed. He had seen that Michael had been missing his comlink. In an attempt to get his partner's mind off how tired he was, he said, "Again? This must be the tenth time since I've known you, Michael. In the old days, Devon would have given you a good talking-to." Michael chuckled a little. "Again. But this time it wasn't my fault. Well, not really." "That's what you said every time." "I know." Michael sat up as straight as he could and not lose his balance, stretching tired muscles. "I asked you a question. How much time do we have left?" "We have an hour and a half until the timer runs out. We've made good time, we should be there in an hour and fifteen minutes." "You got the deactivation code from Sunny, didn't you?" the human asked. "Of course." Sunny couldn't believe the others were talking! At a time like this... He suddenly saw an obstacle. A mighty big obstacle. A fifteen-foot pile of rocks and logs was directly in their path. He slowed to a halt directly in front of it. "Oh, no!" cried Mike. "Can we jump it?" Sunny tossed his mane. "I'll do my best." He turned around, running back the other direction to get room in which to get up speed. "Mike! Can you do it?" Michael shouted to them. Sunny snorted. Could he do it? He was beyond being tired. He had his second wind now, and all his alien determination said that he would do it. Failure was not an option. Mike wasn't so sure, obviously. He called back, "Go on ahead. Don't stop for us!" Kitt held his ears back. "We won't leave without you!" Mike shook his head. "Those people! Go!! We'll catch up!" Sunny half-reared. Catch up?! He would not be left behind, no matter what! He ran for the pile, gathering speed. As Mike hung on for dear life, and the others watched in surprise, he launched himself with every bit of his alien strength. He soared up and over, barely making it. He caught the top layer of logs with his hind legs, pushing off as he headed back to earth. He hit the ground running, well ahead of Kitt. Michael stared as the golden stallion cleared the tremendous jump. He didn't waste any strength on words, however. He turned Kitt towards the obstacle, and for the first time since Kitt's car body had been destroyed, he headed for a barrier at full speed. As they left the ground, he felt a sensation of flying that he had never felt before in his life. It wasn't like riding a plane taking off, it wasn't like jumping in a supercar. It was like *flying*, like no jump they'd ever made before, and for a moment he was lost in the wonder of the feeling before they hit the ground on the other side. He no longer felt tired. He was running on pure adrenaline now. They had to make their rendezvous with an explosive device. And they would. He suddenly was sure of that. They ran on and on, no longer tired, too filled with determination to be tired. Time flew by as fast as the scenery as Sunny pushed himself beyond what he would have imagined, before tonight, that he could. He was actually keeping up with Kitt, who was slowly speeding up faster and faster. That in itself was quite a feat, Sunny realized, but he no longer was competing with the cyber-horse. They were working together now. The palomino wasn't sure when he had stopped being jealous of Kitt's abilities, but sometime this night, he had. As they reached and blasted through the city, he was starting to run so fast he was fairly flying over the ground, leaping any small obstacles like they didn't exist. He felt *free*, as though he could do anything! Suddenly, he heard a loud sound that he recognized. Helicopter! Kitt heard the sound at the same instant. "Chopper!" he shouted as he ducked into an alleyway, Sunny on his heels. They halted deep in the shadows, waiting for the helicopter to go by. "What?" said Michael. "Why are we stopping? How much time do we have left?" Mike quickly echoed his sentiments. "There is a danger. I can feel it," Sunny said. Mike, well acquainted with the stallion's perceptive capabilities, laid down on his back. Kitt could hear Michael start to protest, but then he obviously changed his mind, and got out of sight as well. The helicopter hovered for a minute, then headed south. "Michael!" he cried. "The convention center's just south of here!" Michael pounced on Kitt's statement. "Just? Like how far?" Kitt turned slightly to look back at him. "Only about a mile..." Suddenly his head shot up. "Oh, no!!" Michael was alarmed at the tone of his friend's voice. "What is it, pal?" "My calculations have been in error all this time! Michael, we don't have ten minutes, we have twenty seconds!!" Michael wasted no time with explanations to Mike and Sunny, who'd probably heard anyway. He snatched up the reins and spun the ebony robot around on his hind legs, doing a full one-eighty. He kicked him hard, and they shot out of the alley like a bullet from a gun. The pair leaped over fences, through people's yards, taking any and every short cut available to them. For a second, as they came up on a backyard pool, Michael thought that they were going to end up swimming. But Kitt gathered himself, and leaped the full length of it. Michael had no time to be amazed at this feat. He was dimly aware of pounding hoofbeats some distance behind them, but right now he didn't care if Mike and Sunny were being left behind. They were racing time itself, and time was winning! A cheerful round of applause broke out as the latest speaker walked up to the platform in the Los Angeles convention center. There were over two thousand people in the giant room, but that amount looked minuscule next to the sixteen thousand seats that the center room accomodated. The speaker, a certain Blaine Anderson, nodded his smiling thanks to the crowd. "Thank you, one and all," he began. "I greatly appreciate your letting me come to speak here..." He went on, unaware that hidden in the wall behind him was a very powerful explosive. As the red digital counter reached 10, an automatic audible warning spoke up in a pleasant female voice, as though it had no idea of what it was saying. "Ten seconds to blast. Nine seconds. Eight." Mike Stone gripped with his entire body as Sunny flew over one obstacle after another, as if barely aware of his rider, although he knew that wasn't the case. The alien was trying to keep up with Kitt. But now that the cyber-horse was running full speed, Sunny was, despite his best efforts, falling behind. The counter kept on speaking in a friendly tone, unaware that it was sealing the fates of over two thousand people. "Seven." Kitt prepared the code to deactivate the bomb in a signal packet even as he sped along the street they were now following. The code must reach its destination in one complete package, or it would fail to do its job. He leaped a row of parked cars and cut across a lawn. The audience clapped and cheered when Dr. Anderson brought out a model of his new rocket. And calmly behind the wall, the voice said, "Six." Sunny pushed himself to the limit and beyond once more. He was slowly catching up with the speeding robot in front of him. Then Kitt spun around a corner as if there was no such thing as inertia. The alien skidded on the slick wet pavement, and, for just a moment, lost ground. "Five." Mike held on with all his strength as Sunny nearly fell, but then the golden horse regained his footing and they flew after the others. "Four." Kitt flashed past a "Keep Out, Employees Only" sign, barely deigning to recognize its existence. He was almost totally occupied with preparing the code, and Michael was doing the "driving". There! Now it was ready! They flew past a startled, angry guard at the back entrance to the convention center and over the striped bar blocking the road. "Three." Michael held on as his mount topped a grassy rise in the lawn, racing towards the building. They finally reached the five-hundred-foot line and rushed past it. At about a hundred feet from the side of the building, he yanked back on the reins, figuratively stomping on the brakes. Kitt reared up. "Send it!" Michael shouted at the top of his lungs. The mini-computer in the detonator said sweetly, "Two." Kitt came back to earth, and the pair braced themselves for what would be one huge explosion if they hadn't been in time. Sunny and Mike raced around the corner. "One." Then the message that Kitt had sent reached its destination, and the voice said, in the same sweet tone, "Countdown aborted. Next intruction?" The crowd inside cheered mightily at something that had been said, totally unaware that their lives had just barely, by less than a second, been spared. Mike brought Sunny to a halt. He waited tensely, then as nothing happened, he shouted in joy, raising his fists high into the air in a fierce gesture of triumph. Michael collapsed onto Kitt's neck. Mike stared over at his friend. "Hey, you alright?" When there was no answer, Sunny leaped into a canter toward the still black horse standing in the middle of the empty lawn. Which was all of a sudden empty no longer as at least ten armed men leaped out of the shadows. Sunny spun about, Mike hanging on. The alien stallion screamed defiantly, striking out at the nearest soldier. That one fell, and Mike leaped from the golden back, taking out another. He wasn't fighting in revenge anymore, he realized as he jumped. He'd lost all desire for that. He was now fighting for Michael's life. Kitt, who had been trying to get a response from his unconscious friend, saw the enemy come out of the bushes and the other pair leap to an attack. Quickly, he spun around to protect his partner, gently half-rearing to slide the human into a soft cushion of bushes. A gunman noticed the unconscious man, and snapped his rifle up, taking aim. He'd ignored the equine off to the side until, at the same instant he pulled the trigger, Kitt leaped in the way. The bullet hit his chest, ripping through the artificial horsehide and ricocheting off the protective shell underneath. Then he lunged at the gunman, who, seeing that his weapon apparently had no effect on this strange creature, decided that discretion was the better part of valor and ran. Kitt returned to his post by his friend's side, determined to protect him. Mike decked another enemy, shaking his hand. He'd hoped it would hurt less the second time. It didn't. Sunny reared in front of one more, pawing at him and knocking the gun out of his hand. He stomped on the weapon, and its owner, who was at heart a coward, turned and melted quickly into the trees. The stallion stood still just long enough for his rider to swing aboard, then reared and leaped into the fray once more. Kitt managed to bluff out another soldier, and then, all of a sudden, heard several engine sounds at once, blending with the gunfire, Sunny's angry screams, and police sirens to create an incredible racket. The sounds of high-powered police cars, the enemy helicopter, and... the robot looked up in amazement. A small dark STOL fighter jet, which suddenly dived, strafing the ground and firing blanks. There was little real danger from the tiny plane, but to the already-spooked miniature army, it was more than enough incentive to suddenly leave the premises. They scattered in all directions, many dropping their weapons to flee, others surrendering to the authorities, who were having a field day slapping handcuffs on everyone in sight. As searchlights lit up the area as bright as day, the human/horse team standing in the middle of the battleground both cheered, laughing and enjoying their victory. Their joy was short-lived, however. "Look out!" Kitt shouted at them, and they spun around just in time to leap out of the way as someone in the helicopter fired at them. A row of holes was made in the ground right where they'd been standing. The copter was *not* firing blanks. Sunny spun and dodged, trying to get an opening in this deadly game of cat-and-mouse. Mike clung to his back, waiting for the same opening. Then Milton leaned out, taking aim. Sunny leaped and ducked again, and for several moments Mike took no notice of a sharp hot pain in his thigh. In those few moments, a lot happened. The little jet dipped down out of the sky again, and the helicopter rose to give chase. The unmarked fighter moved sideways and backwards, making use of its STOL engines to out-maneuver the chopper. The helicopter and plane climbed and dived, flying circles around each other. The unarmed fighter was obviously trying not to be hit by the gun. Sunny reared again, and Mike was finding it increasingly hard to hang on. His right leg seemed to be going numb. He gripped as well as he could anyway, determined to see this through to the end. But when he tightened his muscles, he gasped in pain. Mike glanced down, and nearly fell off just seeing what had happened. A large bright red stain was spreading across his pants leg. He shoved down the impulse to faint, snarling up at the copter that had shot him. Just then, Milton obviously noticed the black horse standing alone by the bushes, and the helicopter moved that way. Sunny leaped sideways, blocking the way. Then one of the gunmen suddenly broke free from the police, scooping up a rifle and heading for the lone equine. Kitt reared, leaping to the side, trying to lead this new enemy away from his helpless friend. The gunman took the bait, firing at the cyber-horse, who quickly dodged. The helicopter had not been so easily diverted. It swerved around the palomino standing in its way to get a clear shot at Michael. Mike gritted his teeth and urged Sunny forward, than sprang from the golden back when they reached the side of the building. The stubborn young man landed on hands and one foot, then pushed himself to a standing position between Michael and Milton, standing on his good leg and balancing with the other. "I dare you!" he shouted at the helicopter, squinting in its bright lights. "I dare you to shoot now!" Sunny, agreeing, placed himself in front of Mike, and the two stood there, valiantly determined to protect their friend. Kitt, having left the gunman totally dizzy and minus gun, wondering just what had happened to him, came running from the other side of the grassy expanse. "No!" the robot shouted. The chopper hovered in front of Mike and Sunny, nearly deafening them and threatening to knock the already shaky human down with the gale its blades were creating. Milton leaned out of the side, bring his gun to bear on the pair. "You're as stupid as you are annoying!" he shouted. "But now I'll be rid of you!" "No you won't!" Sunny shouted back. Mike, not trusting his voice, nodded emphatically. The copter moved closer, and Milton took careful aim. Sunny got ready to leap at him, to do anything, even die, to protect Mike. Then a whine-roar sounded once again, and the STOL jet divebombed the chopper, nearly scraping the top of the whirlybird with its underside. Angry, Milton jerked away from the pair, just as Kitt skidded to a stop in front of them, determined to act as a shield. To the robot's surprise, Sunny pushed him away. "I can take care of Mike!" The beginning argument was cut off when the helicopter rose up and away from them. Both horses stared in surprise. The chopper aimed directly for the little plane, heading its way at full speed. The dark-gray fighter dodged the first volley of fire, then suddenly zipped past, right in front of the helicopter's nose. The copter gave chase, then, unexpectedly, fired all its weaponry at once. The barrage streaked toward the little jet, which didn't have time to get out of the way. What happened next was a shock to everyone but Kitt, who'd been suspecting the plane's identity. When the gunfire reached the plane, it didn't send it plummeting downward. Instead, it stuck the smooth dark-gray surface and ricocheted in all directions. The helicopter was hit by its own fire, and sparks flew as systems shorted out and the controls quit responding. The passengers just barely had time to bail out before the out-of-control chopper dove into the hillside and consumed itself in an explosive ball of fire. Mike, watching, could no longer keep his wits about him. Everything was going fuzzy, and he knew he was about to pass out. He leaned back hard against Sunny's side, and slowly slid toward the ground, where he lost consciousness. The two horses looked at each other worriedly. Now both their human friends were out of the battle. The police, who had been staring with mouths wide open at the aerial dogfight, retrieved the presence of mind to run over to the parachute-entangled criminals and put handcuffs on them. Milton fought his incarceration, shouting wildly, "Not me, you idiots! Them! Get them!" The cops stared over in the direction he was madly pointing. They saw nothing but two horses, standing on top of a little hill. "Yeah, right," one of them said. "You're the one shooting at everybody tonight, buster, not a pair of horses." "But they're not horses!" Milton shouted, struggling to get free. "One's an alien from outer space, and the other's a robot! Do you hear me? They're not horses!" The cop looked back at the two equines. One flicked its tail. Then he looked back at Milton. "Gimme a break," he said, throwing the still-protesting crime boss into the back seat of a police car. A policewoman had come up the hill, talking softly to the two horses. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "No-one's going to hurt you." Then she saw the two unconscious men. "Hey!" she shouted down to the others. "Get an ambulance up here! And hurry!" She turned back towards the men, crouching down and reaching out to feel the blond's pulse. Before she ever touched him, however, the palomino half-reared and stomped down between her and her patient. She fell backwards, startled. "Hey!" But the black seemed inclined to be a little more obliging, holding the other back to let her make sure the two men were still alive. The golden stallion danced in fury as she hurriedly checked both humans and then ran back down the hill. Sunny glared at Kitt, opening his mouth to say something, but was suddenly surprised when a great gust of wind hit him. He closed his mouth again and turned to watch the unmarked STOL settle gently to the grass less than fifty feet away. Kitt went to meet the plane, leaving Sunny to watch over both men. He halted just before he reached it, the wind it created blowing his mane and tail wildly. The engines shut down, and the wind slowly died. The dark gray of the jet's finish was broken only by the gold script letters "STORM" written underneath the canopy, highlighted by the searchlights. The canopy rose, and two flight-suited human forms emerged from the small fighter. The first pulled off her helmet to reveal long white-blonde hair. The other was a brown-haired male. They came up to Kitt, and for a moment, both sides simply looked at the other. Then the girl stepped forward and reached out a hand, as if in greeting to an equal. "Hello," she said. "We're from FLAG. I'm Sally O'Brien, and this is Harry McGregor." The young man, even younger than Mike, Kitt thought, smiled a liitle, but seemed happy to let Sally take the lead. And she did, continuing, "We got your message, Kitt. I assume you *are* Kitt, aren't you?" At the cyber-horse's nod, she smiled. "We decided to come help you." Kitt pricked his ears. "Without permission, I assume?" McGregor shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "I guess helping others out's more important than whether or not we get in trouble." "I sincerely hope you do not," replied the robot. "But thank you for coming to our aid." Sally smiled again and reached out a hesitant gloved hand. When Kitt did not move away, she carefully placed it on his neck. "You and your partner have kind of become legends around the Foundation. I'm glad to actually get to meet you." She took her hand away and looked around. "Where's Michael? From what I've heard, you two are pretty inseparable." Kitt gazed back at Sunny, worry evident in his eyes. "We're waiting for the ambulance." Both gasped. Sally's green eyes widened in the floodlights. "Oh, I hope he'll be all right!" McGregor quickly agreed. "I hope so, too," replied the worried AI. They were all silent for a couple of seconds, then Sally shook her hair back and put her helmet back on. "I'm sorry, but we've gotta go before we get in even bigger trouble for disappearing with a prototype jet." The two young people waved good-bye and climbed back into their plane. The engines whined, and in another gust of wind, the Storm rose straight up off the ground, then turned so that its bullet-shaped nose pointed north. Then the STOL roared, and the rescuers shot away with a loud clap as they broke the sound barrier. The ambulance arrived in record time. Kitt, who had been monitering the vital signs of both of their human friends, was very relieved to see it. He hadn't told Sunny, afraid that the palomino would panic, but Mike was suffering from massive blood loss, and he hadn't been sure the brave young man would survive much longer. There was an unexpected problem, though, when the paramedics came up the small hill to rescue their patients. Sunny had a unreasoning hatred of doctors. "No!" he snarled in the medics' direction. "I won't let them get their hands on Mike!" It was sheer luck, Kitt thought, that they didn't hear him. The golden stallion was talking quite clearly out loud. Sunny lunged for the men with the stretcher who were coming to pick his friend up. Kitt quickly leaped in his way, and for the third time that day, the alien found himself running into a side that obviously felt like it was made out of rock, from the groan that Sunny produced. "Listen to me!" the robot demanded just as forcefully. "I know you don't like doctors, but Sunny, if you don't let them take Mike to the hospital, he's going to die!" He hadn't wanted to put it quite so forcefully, but, as far as he could see, the only way to get Sunny to listen to reason was to shock him with the truth. It worked. The alien took an involuntary step backwards. "Are you telling the truth?" he demanded. Kitt sighed. "Yes. I wish it wasn't, but..." The golden horse snorted, ears laid back. "If I could get my teeth on the ones who did this to him..." The threat was plain. "No," Kitt quickly said. "I know you're angry, but you can't let it control you! Think of Mike now, he needs you to survive!" "How can I help?" "Bond with Mike, Sunny. Keep him alive, no matter what, until he can get to the hospital." Sunny gave him a curious, though still angry, glance, but his eyes unfocused for a moment as he linked with Mike's mind. Then he looked back at Kitt. "You've been through this sort of thing before?" The cyber-horse looked up at the starry sky. "Yes, Sunny. More times than I care to think of. Michael was a crimefighter, and he was always determined to solve his cases for the good of others, no matter what the personal risk to himself. I've seen him in and out of more hospitals... Bullet wounds, broken arm or leg, cracked ribs, concussion..." He shook his head. "He was never very kind to himself. Reckless. But I cared about him just the same, and I still do." Sunny, no longer angry, just afraid for Mike's life, turned to watch the medics at work. "Will he be all right, too?" "Michael? I think so." Kitt looked over at the ambulance, where his friend already was. "I was afraid for him at first, but his vital signs are stable. I think he just pushed himself too hard. But I still won't feel good about it until he's awake and able to talk to me." "But he lost your comlink thing," Sunny observed. Kitt drooped a little. "I'd forgotten that. Now we won't be able to talk to each other from a distance at all." Sunny suddenly noticed that, while he'd been talking to Kitt, the paramedics had taken Mike. He glared at the cyber-horse, who had purposely distracted him. Kitt pretended not to notice. The ambulance pulled out into the street with a squeal of tires and the howl of sirens. The two horses followed it at a walk, some distance behind. Sunny wasn't going to push himself any more that night. Therefore, they were headed for the hospital, but would arrive some time after the others. They traveled in silence for about ten minutes, then Kitt brought up a question that obviously surprised Sunny, who gave a startled hop. "Sunny," he said, "Why were you mad at me earlier?" Sunny didn't say anything for a few minutes, and Kitt was wondering if he was even going to answer when he spoke up. I guess I was just... well, jealous." "That's what Michael said. But I wasn't sure if that was your true reason, or if you had another." Sunny sighed. "I know it sounds silly, but I was jealous because I couldn't jump or run like you. I couldn't protect Mike as well as you can protect Michael. Things like that." Kitt laughed a little. "Sunny, all I ever did was just be me. That's what I am. It's what I was created to be. Besides, did you ever think that I might have reasons to be envious of you, too?" That surprised the golden horse. "Why? Whyever would you be?" "Do you want a list? I'll give you just a sample. One, you have that mental bond with Mike, which I could never achieve. Two, you are a living being. I'll never be able to wake up in the morning and feel the sunrise, only see it. I can't be careful enough to touch a small creature without hurting it; I can't stop and smell the flowers. If it weren't for Bonnie, I wouldn't even be able to feel things like heat and cold, or Michael's touch. You have it lucky, in a way, to be alive." Sunny blinked at him. "You wish you were alive?" Kitt shook his head. "Not really. I'm mostly content to be who and what I am. But, the point is, if I wanted to, I could be jealous of you, too." Sunny ran his nose along a fence thoughtfully. "I can't imagine *you* jealous." Kitt startled him by laughing out loud. "But I have been. And for less reason than you had." The palomino snorted disbelievingly. "You? Jealous? I find that a little hard to believe, Kitt." Kitt glanced at him. "Perhaps I'd better tell you the story," he said. "It all began when Bonnie, the one who took care of me, built a little spy robot. She called it SID..." * * * Later that night, actually, three the next morning, Sunny lay on the grass of the hospital lawn and looked up at the winter stars. Normally when he did this, he would seek out a certain star, and think about life back on his own planet. But tonight, he wasn't thinking about anything but the present. This world was home now, and would remain so for as long as Mike lived. Mike would be all right. He was still unconscious from the surgery anesthetic, but he should be awake the next day. He reached out and touched his friend's mind. He was sleeping peacefully, without the bad dreams he had used to have about Milton, and what had happened to him before. It was like facing his fears had purged them, and Sunny was glad for that. Mike was finally, totally, at peace, and Sunny felt the same way. He was still thinking thoughts of this sort when he drifted off to sleep. Kitt stood over his palomino friend, feeling the cold wind push against him, but not bothered by it. He smiled down at Sunny with his dark eyes. "Good night, my friend," he said softly, and then walked a short distance away, where he could keep watch over all his friends. His main worry had been calmed. Michael would be all right, the nurse had told him, once she had gotten over the shock of having a conversation with a horse. His predictions had been very close to the truth; Michael's body had simply given out under the strain, forcing him to rest by knocking him out. "He ought to be awake some time tomorrow, and then we'll release him," she had told him. Of course, Kitt was now doubly determined to keep his partner from getting into situations like that very often, if at all. He knew, of course, that they would start going on their own small missions again, but he was resolutely set on making sure that the human wasn't under that kind of stress any more than absolutely necessary. Especially after what the nurse had told him. "He's very stubborn, obviously," the matronly woman had fumed. "And in good shape for a man of his age, too. But his body can't take that kind of stress that much anymore. He's not twenty years old, and you've got to make sure he recognizes that. It's good for him to be active, and he can even go chase bad guys and stuff if he wants to, but make sure he doesn't get up early, work hard all day, get into several fights, then go for a hard six-hour ride in the middle of the night!" Her dire predictions of the possibility, however faint, of a heart attack had made a very strong impression on the black cyber-horse, and he had promised to see that Michael didn't do anything like he had that day again for a long time. Kitt sighed softly, looking up at the window where he knew his friend was. If he could have sent his feelings on a thought-wave the way that Sunny could, he would have tried to show the man up there just how much he cared. But he would still get the chance, and so would Sunny. Both humans had made it out alive, if both a liitle worse for wear. And Milton had been stopped -- permanently. Russel would be able to go home. And thinking of Russel, he would have to contact Bonnie the next morning; tell her to tell the Britishman that they had succeeded. Of course, if he knew her, she'd probably end up down at the hospital too. She was a loyal friend. And, thinking thoughts of that kind, the loyal robot stood on the hill, to guard over all those there that he cared about, all night long. * * * It was two days after Christmas. Both humans were inside, trying to do something interesting with a very bored Mike, who was bed-bound with his leg up in traction. The equines, out on the lawn, were getting back into the swing of normal life. In other words, arguing. "I don't care what you think," Sunny retorted to something Kitt had said. "Well, *you* wouldn't," the offended shot back. They were interrupted by a car driving up to the front gate of the hospital. The pair turned to glance at it, like they did every car, until a tall, gray-haired man and a brown-haired woman got out and headed up the path towards the front door. Sunny watched them go, not particularly interested until they got close enough for him to recognize the man. "Russel!" he shouted in greeting, then took off in a canter down the path towards the pair. Kitt, to his surprise, headed straight for the brunette. She glanced up from something she had in a bag, and her face lit up. "Kitt!" she called back, grinning. "I'm glad to see you well. Can I say the same for the craziest man I know?" Sunny and Russel watched in bemusement as Kitt laughed in response to her question. "Michael's fine," he informed her. "It's Mike who's stuck here at the hospital." She looked Kitt over carefully, then noticed the tear in the hide on his chest, caused by the bullet Christmas night. She reached out to finger it lightly, and Sunny was surprised when the normally touchy cyber-horse offered no complaint about being handled so familiarly. Apparently, this woman was far from being a stranger. "I know you're not going to leave Michael, but when you get back, come on over, and I'll fix that for you," she offered, brushing her fingers across his neck. Sunny was surprised once again when Kitt reciprocated, turning his head to touch her shoulder gently with his nose. "Thank you." Sunny could stand it no longer. "Excuse me," he inserted himself into the conversation. "But, who is this?" The female turned to see him, then laughed merrily. "You must be Sunny. My name is Bonnie. I used to work with Kitt and Michael." Sunny pricked his ears. So this was Bonnie. No wonder... "I've heard a lot about you," he said. She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really." The alien chuckled. "All good, I assure you." Russel smiled. "We came to see your friends. Do you know where they might be?" Just then, Michael, not particularly looking where he was going, came out of the door and nearly ran the pair over. At least, nearly ran Russel over. Bonnie, out of experience, stepped agilely out of the way. "Just where do you think you are going?" she said. He jerked his head up, bringing his attention back to the real world. Then he grinned. "Bonnie, Russel! Hey!" Russel shook his hand, smiling. Bonnie unashamedly dived in for a hug. "I was worried about you," she said, her voice muffled by his coat. "I thought you'd do something stupid." Michael smiled softly, putting an arm around her. "Nah. Don't worry about me." Sunny noticed that he refrained from mentioning his own close call. He thought about saying something, but finally decided not to. Then Michael's grin returned. "Come on in," he invited them. "It'll give Mike something to do besides complain." He ushered them through the door, then turned and ran back quickly to Kitt. He put an arm around the equine neck and gave him a quick hug. "Hi, pal. Good to see ya!" Then he ran back in to rejoin his human friends. * * * Mike Stone was bored. B-O-R-E-D, bored. There was absolutely *nothing* to do in a hospital. Except watch out for doctors who wanted to torture you. If they tried to take one more blood test, he was going to scream. And then there was the problem of the color scheme. White. Everything was plain, annoying, bright white. The kind that made your eyes hurt. Walls, bed, clothes, everything! Mike grumbled and crossed his arms, slouching down in the bed. When would they let him out?! If he didn't keel over from all the blood samples they insisted on, he would die of boredom! They hadn't even given him a book to read! He muttered to himself again. The door creaked, and he shot a glare up at it. "If you're another doctor, go away!" A gray head peered around the edge of the door. "Well now, you aren't in a very good mood, now, are you?" Mike brightened, and he sat up, as well as he could with one leg up in the air. "Hi, Russel!" The Britishman smiled, coming the rest of the way into the room. "I see you are doing well. I came to thank you for helping me. I won't be able to stay long, I have to meet a taxi. I have a flight to England in an hour." Mike grinned, pushing his blond hair out of his face. "That's great, Russel! You're going home!" "Thanks to you and Michael, yes." Russel touched his shoulder. "Get well quickly, Mike." Then he smiled and waved happily, going back out the door. "Write to us!" Mike called. "I promise," Russel called back, heading down the hall. "So long!" Mike sat back, happy for the older man. The door, which was still open a crack, was opened the rest of the way, and Michael looked in, blue eyes dancing. Why he was in such a good mood, Mike wasn't quite sure. "Why should you be so happy?" he pretended to growl. The other ignored the complaint. "We figured we'd give you a moment with Russel. I think he particularly took to you, and he wanted to make sure you were okay." Mike shrugged. "I don't know why he would... We?" His older friend grinned. "Uh-huh. How'd you think Russel got here -- flew? Somebody had to drive him." Even Mike had to grin at the mental picture of the proper Britishman sprouting wings and taking to the skies, with a most astonished expression on his face. Very quickly, the grin degenerated to an all-out laugh. Michael couldn't help it; he started laughing, too, leaning on the wall. Which only spurred Mike on. Soon both were unable to speak, they were laughing so hard. After about thirty seconds, Mike estimated (at least as well as he could when he could barely think), a soft soprano voice said from the door, "You two. You're so much alike, no wonder you're such good friends." Mike, surprised, tried to stop laughing long enough to see who the speaker was. It didn't sound like any of the nurses he'd met yet. He finally managed to mostly, at least, calm himself down, and noticed that Michael had, too. The young man looked up at the door to see who was there, and he couldn't keep from staring. Whoever she was, she was beautiful, in a white blouse and red-and-green plaid skirt. She had brown hair that was tied back with a gold clasp, and bright green-brown eyes that were sparkling, belying her annoyed words. Mike then realized that she was also at least thirty-five, and probably older. Much older than him, and he found himself blushing. She laughed, the same sparkle that was in her eyes showing in her voice, as well. "What, you look like you've seen a ghost or something!" She walked into the room, straight towards his bed. "You're Mike, right?" He just nodded dumbly. Michael chuckled from behind her, and Mike shot him an annoyed glance. Now that she was up close, Mike could see that she wasn't really flashily beautiful, although she was pretty. Her beauty seemed to come from her personality, which seemed as though she were nearly always in a good mood about something. She halted about ten feet from him, a contrite expression on her face. "Wait a minute. "You don't even know who I am, right? I'm sorry, I should have said. My name's Bonnie Barstowe." She reached out a hand, and he took it, shaking her hand. He was surprised at the strength of her grip. Then her name hit him. "Bonnie? You're Bonnie? I've heard a lot about you! You're the one who got that computer code for us, and made the ID cards, too!" Bonnie nodded. "I was glad to help out a friend, especially what with the importance of your mission and all." "Well, what you did was pretty important, too," Mike told her honestly. "You're quite a computer expert, you know that?" She smiled slightly. "Yeah, she is," Michael chimed in, coming up behind Bonnie to better see Mike. "She's quite an inventor and mechanic, too. Did you know Bonnie's a genius?" The one being spoken about whirled on him, laughing a little as if embarrassed. "You shut up, Michael Knight!" He chuckled, dodging her half-hearted swing at him. "She also has a temper like you wouldn't believe." She jumped at him again. Mike had to admit one thing. She was sure patient. Especially what with Michael's teasing her. Mike knew from experience that it could be hard to put up with that guy. Bonnie grin-glared at Michael one more time before turning to Mike, who was having a hard time keeping a straight face, and sitting on the end of the bed. "It must be hard, having to spend Christmas in the hospital," she remarked. "Hey," Michael protested, sitting down next to her. To Mike's surprise, she didn't even pretend to get mad. "I missed Christmas, too." Bonnie turned to look at him, smiling. "I know. That's why I brought these." She dumped the contents of the bag she had brought in with her out onto the white sheet. Mike gasped, and Michael's eyes widened as two brightly wrapped packages tumbled out onto the bed. Mike reached out to pick up the larger one. It was heavy. "That one's for you," Bonnie said. Michael touched the other, then turned to look at the inventor, for once with a serious look in his eyes. "You didn't have to do this for us," he said. She looked up at him. "I wanted to," she replied simply. She picked up the smaller present, the one Michael had touched, and handed it to him. "Open it." He glanced at her, then at Mike, and carefully took the colored paper off. He opened the hinged box inside and turned it upside down. What looked to Mike like a black watch fell out into his other palm. Apparently, it meant more to Michael. He looked back up from his hand to Bonnie. "You made a new one," he practically whispered, and Mike was surprised to see tears start in his friend's eyes. Bonnie smiled at him. "I really couldn't think of anything you'd want more." Michael stared at her for a few more seconds, then reached out and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," he said, still speaking in that strange quiet voice. Then he pulled back, and quickly, with a practiced flip, strapped the watch onto his wrist. It looked familiar there... Then Mike understood. The inventor had given Michael a new comlink to replace the one that Milton had smashed. They both turned to Mike, and Bonnie smiled. "Why don't you see what yours is?" Mike had a suspicion she was enjoying this, like a parent watching children on Christmas morning. Mike glanced down at his gift. He hefted it and shook it. Michael broke out laughing. "For Pete's sake, just open the thing, don't massacre it!" Mike shot him a playful glare and turned the package upside down, studying it, and waiting for a reaction from the others. Bonnie giggled, and apparently didn't notice the arm that Michael had put around her shoulders. "Oh, come on!" she chided. "It doesn't bite!" Mike grinned at the pair, and turned it right-side-up, placing it in his lap while he pulled off the tape. He opened the wrapping to reveal a cardboard box. He gave another glance at the other two. Bonnie looked like she was trying not to laugh yet, and losing the battle. He grinned back at her, then yanked the folded box top open. He studied the wood-covered object inside curiously, then tilted it out into his lap. It was about eight inches square, with a little TV-like screen, a switch, and a knob on one side. He studied it for a couple more minutes, then looked up at his grinning friends. "What is it?" Bonnie burst out laughing. "I knew you were going to ask that! It's an audio-visual transceiver." Mike frowned, shoving his hair out of his face again. "A what?" Michael stood up and came around the side of the bed to see the object better. He turned it over a couple of times, then said, "I think it's some sort of miniature TV." Bonnie stood and picked up the bag, folding it up in her hands. "I have to go," she told them somewhat regretfully. "I wish I could stay, but I have a company get-together to attend. That's why I'm dressed like this." She indicated her blouse and skirt. "I think you look pretty," Michael said softly. Mike glanced up at him to see a quick expression of -- longing? -- cross his face. Then the look was gone as quickly as it had come. Bonnie glanced over at him, having not seen the expression. "Thanks," she replied almost shyly. "But, guys," she continued with a smile, "I really *do* have to leave now." Michael handed the gadget back to Mike and walked over to give the inventor a quick hug. "Thanks," he told her. "For everything." She hugged him back, smiling, then, with a cheery wave, she breezed out the door. Both men stood still for a second after she left, then Michael came back to Mike and sat on the edge of the bed. "Let's see what this thing can do," he said, picking up the box with the screen. Mike watched him for a moment, then said, "She's something special, isn't she?" Michael smiled softly. "Yeah. She is." "You care a lot about her, don't you?" His friend glanced up at him sharply, then sat back and sighed. "More than anything," he said honestly. He looked directly at Mike. "I love her." _I love her._ That had been the first time he'd actually said those words out loud to anyone but Kitt. And they were true. _I love her enough to pretend I don't._ Although that pretense sometimes hurt. "And she doesn't?" Mike asked. Michael looked away and ran both hands through his dark curls. "Not in the same way. I think she sees me as sort of a kid brother. But I wish..." Then he mentally shook himself. "Let's see what this contraption picks up," he said, referring to the little TV. "I guess she figured you'd be bored." Mike rolled his eyes and leaned back on the wall above his pillow. "That's an understatement." Michael quirked a lopsided smile and flipped the switch on the front of the box. It hummed for a moment, then a black-and-white picture flickered into view on the small screen. A pair of doctors were arguing about surgical procedures. Mike winced, having no interest, Michael was sure, in hearing about that kind of thing at the moment. Then the detective took a second glance at the picture. It wasn't a TV show, it was a view from a camera inside the doctors' lounge. Mike groaned, and Michael chuckled. "I guess if you wanted to know what they were planning on doing to you... She must have tapped into the security camera." Mike gave him a half-hearted glare. "I'm not sure I want to know," he said. "Does this thing pick up anything else?" "It should." The crimefighter turned the knob one click, and the picture changed. This time, it was a gaggle of nurses in a very bad comedy. Another click, and the screen displayed the Jerry Lewis movie 'Disorderly Orderly'. Mike was beginning to have a feeling... Another click, and a drama based on hospitals. Another click, and another... Finally Michael just burst out laughing. "She gave you a bunch of stories about hospitals!" Mike glared up at him, trying hard not to laugh. "I don't see what's so funny," he half-lied. "She's trying to cheer you up, Mike. It's a joke!" Michael collapsed on the bed, shaking. Mike sat up, worried for a second, until he realized that his friend was laughing. Laughing very hard. The laughter was contagious, and Mike found himself starting to giggle in a silly way. And he didn't care. Mike slid down, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. Michael rolled over, trying to say something, but one look at Mike sent him off in another fit of hysterics. The battle for control was lost, and they both shouted and laughed until a nurse came and looked in, wondering if they were all right. The pair didn't even notice her, and she finally threw up her hands in exasperation and left, shaking her head and smiling. Their happiness was felt in another place, as well. Kitt heard their laughter from outside, and turned his head to see the window where they were. Then he looked back down at Sunny, whose blue eyes were sparkling with joy, picked up mentally from Mike. The cyber-horse smiled with his eyes at his loyal friend, then turned to look back up at the window. A flock of little snowbirds flitted by overhead, reveling in the sunlight and bringing with them the promise of many more happy winters -- with all the friends, together.