Necessary

Necessary
Episode tag to 'Many Happy Returns'
By Gumnut
For the ColorIfic Shades of Grey challenge - grey
25 Apr 2006

Kitt listened to the strong and steady heartbeat of his partner. Michael was finally asleep in his apartment and the comlink relayed Kitt reassurance. They had ridden the semi back to the Foundation despite Michael's preference of fleeing Devon's sight as soon as possible. It had taken quite some skill on Kitt's part and more to persuade his partner not to run after they dropped off Ms Lowell. Despite Michael's claims of wanting to spend time with her, he did not protest when she asked to leave and Kitt, quietly assessing his partner from the rear of the semi, knew why.

The man was tired, worn out, and holding a pleasant face was likely to take more effort than it was worth. Michael had immediately hopped into the Trans Am, and if Kitt hadn't called on Bonnie for help, they would have been halfway to parts unknown by now. Bonnie, staring curiously at the AI, had agreed that some tests were warranted and an overnight stay at the Foundation wouldn't hurt…they could leave tomorrow. Devon had followed up, as predicted, filling Michael's little free time with reports. Kitt had cringed, but hoped it was all worth it. He had listened to Michael's complaints all the way home and hadn't objected once. It was partly his fault after all, and Michael had every right to complain. Something for which Kitt was intending to do something about.

Because Kitt was angry.

It didn't happen very often. Most of his frustration or ire was over small things, like dogs, animals climbing on his paintwork, dirt, Michael's reckless regard for propriety, items of little importance that he often mentioned just to stir up his driver. But when he did get truly angry, the subject of that anger was always Michael. Not at him, but for him.

It was dark outside his garage, but at his request, Bonnie had left the interior light on. Not that Kitt needed it, but unknown to her, he was expecting a guest.

He monitored the mansion, tracking the individual occupants as they all slowly drifted off to bed, watched the security guards on their rounds, waited for the one blip on his screen he could identify as the Director of the Foundation for Law and Government to head to bed. Devon did indeed stay up late. It was well past one am before he moved in the direction of his quarters. Kitt sighed. For a moment, he second guessed himself. Devon certainly put his own effort into the Foundation and at his age, the stress level was extreme…but still…something had to be said.

He waited until Devon had retired, letting the older man slip into a restful sleep. Secondary monitors kept track of Michael's vitals, his partner still sleeping, though now apparently dreaming.

Once Devon was just asleep, Kitt dialled the number of the phone beside the bed.

The ring startled Devon out of sleep and a hand grabbed for the receiver. "Devon Miles." His tone was far from the patient one Kitt was used to hearing.

"Devon, I need to speak with you."

"Kitt, what are you doing on this line?"

"I need to speak with you."

"Can't this wait until morning?"

"No, I'm afraid it can not."

"Very well, go ahead." His tone was one of strained tolerance. It was after all nearly two am.

"I need to speak with you in person."

"Kitt, it is nearly 2am."

"I am aware of the time, Devon, but this is a matter of great importance."

"What is wrong?"

"Would you meet me in the garage?"

There was a silence at the other end of the line, before a gruff and resigned, "I'll be there shortly."

"Thank you." And Kitt dropped the line, his scanners tracking the Director's movements.

Perhaps it was an extreme tactic, giving the Devon a taste of his own medicine, but Kitt needed to get his point across, there was a great deal at stake after all.

The AI waited for the older man as he hiked across the grounds in the dark, and composed exactly what he was going to say. What he said would have implications on the most important person in his life and he had no wish to create more of a problem than there already was.

By the time Devon made it to the garage, he was wearing an expression that mixed annoyance with concern. After all, it had to be important for the AI to call him this late at night, but why he had to drag him out in the cold and in his pyjamas, he didn't know.

"Alright, Kitt, I am here, what did you consider to be of such great importance?"

"Please take a seat, Devon." There was a couch to one side where Michael often sat while Kitt was undergoing repairs. His driver tended to worry about him as much as Kitt worried about his driver, and often they were both equally unable to help each other.

This was not one of those times.

Devon frowned at him a moment before sitting down, of course, far more formally than Michael had ever sprawled. "Kitt, I am very tired."

"And so is Michael."

"As far as I know Michael is in bed asleep."

"Yes, he is."

"Then what is the problem?" Some mild frustration.

"Your conduct."

Devon's eyebrows shot up. "My conduct?"

"It was deplorable today, Devon. You lied to Michael, teased him with his much needed rest and then snatched it away."

"I did what needed to be done." Devon was unrepentant.

"Needed for who?"

"There was no time. If that hovercraft had reached the wrong hands, the implications would be inconceivable."

"And what of other implications, Devon? What of Michael?"

Again with the surprise. "Michael is fine."

"Is he?" Kitt's tone was becoming strident. "It was his birthday, Devon. Of all days, you could have let him have this one. But no, you lured him into a false sense of release and manipulated him into doing exactly what you wanted him to do."

"It was necessary."

"Was it? Isn't there anyone else who could have been called upon? Four years, Devon. He has been working solid for four years. Today was just another day for him. Do you realise that yet again he narrowly avoided an attempt on his life? That he flung himself off a pier? One day he won't be fast enough. One day I'll have to report to you that, no, the mission could not be completed, because Michael is dead!"

"Michael knows the risks. He always has." Devon was calm, but his eyes were unsettled, most likely by the source of the accusation.

"Of course he does!" Was the man hearing anything Kitt was saying? "He's tired, Devon. He needs time to himself where his life isn't being threatened."

Devon sighed. "Very well, I will send him on vacation."

"Not enough."

"What do you expect me to do, Kitt? Michael is our only operative and there is a great deal needing to be done."

"Hire more operatives."

Devon stared at him. "You would accept other drivers?"

"No." Was the man blind? "How long do you think you can rely solely on Michael? How long will it be before he is cut down in the line of duty or breaks under the stress?"

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I'm a machine, Devon, I can be duplicated. Hire more operatives, create more AIs like myself and diffuse the pressure you continually place on Michael."

Devon hesitated. "The cost-"

"I don't care how much it costs! I will not have you killing my driver!"

Devon stared at Kitt totally dumb founded. "I would never-"

"You are, Devon. Slowly but surely. You see him from time to time, I see him every day. I see him at his worst. I see him when he is hurt. I see him when he is cries. I see his reaction to you stealing the one day he thought he might have free, away from him yet again. You promise him time. You say he can rest. Yet every time you steal it from him. He doesn't sleep well, Devon. He dreams. What of, I don't know, but it steals his rest and then you steal his relaxation."

"I ask; he has the right to refuse."

"Hardly. You play on his inability to refuse to help. Michael will always say yes. You know that and you use it mercilessly, Devon."

"I only do what is necessary." Devon was looking decidedly panicked, if not a little guilty. Perhaps he was beginning to listen.

"It is necessary to hire more people, to create other teams. One man can make a difference, yes, but two or more would make the job a great deal easier. That one man shouldn't have to sacrifice himself in the process."

Devon swallowed. "I will take what you've said under consideration, Kitt."

"I hope so or one way or another you will most likely find yourself short an operative."

Somewhat alarmed now. "Is Michael-"

"Michael is asleep. He is also only one half of our partnership."

Devon stared at the AI again as the implications of that statement sunk in. "You can't-"

"I only do what is necessary, Devon." Kitt's tone was firm, but for a moment, he thought he might have gone too far, but he needed to impress on the Director exactly how important this was to him. He vaguely wondered if Devon had ever realised how much the driver imperative tied the AI to Michael. How much he would be willing to sacrifice for the wellbeing of the man. Then, in a softer tone, "Did you know that Michael dyes his hair?"

Devon blinked at the sudden change in topic. "He does?"

"His hair is going grey."

The Director swallowed again, his eyes on the flickering scanner at Kitt's bow. A sigh. "Very well. I will see what I can do."

"Thank you, Devon."

The tired man rose from the couch and with one last glance at the Trans Am, left the garage and disappeared off into the night, Kitt's scanners tracking his progress.

He knew he had been hard, knew he had overstepped his bounds, but he had tried to speak to the Director before and had been fobbed off. Devon needed to understand. Kitt needed to protect his driver. And Michael needed the rest.

It was necessary.

-o-o-o-