Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Knight Rider or any of its characters - that honor goes to Universal. I'm just taking them out for a spin.
Rating: PG, no warnings
To Tomy: Thanks, as always, for all of your help.
To Apollo: Thanks for the history help and the beta read. Sorry I didn't include Monty. :-)
Note: This story is set in the first season, shortly after Trust Doesn't Rust.
Swapping Stories
Devon Miles strolled into the garage, passed the stands of equipment and racks of tools, and into the service bay, which, to his surprise, was empty. Well, almost empty. He looked at the gleaming black car in front of him. "Kitt, have you seen Bonnie?" he asked.
"She's working on the improved power relays in the lab," Kitt replied politely.
"Thank you," Devon said, about to leave. He was carrying a stack of research materials he wanted Bonnie to look over. Instead of continuing on his way, he paused and contemplated the car in front of him. Michael was on the vacation that he had been demanding and Bonnie had been busy the last few days. Devon suspected that Kitt was probably lonely sitting in the garage by himself.
"Is there something wrong?" Kitt asked, as Devon realized he'd been staring.
"Not at all." Devon set down the folder of papers on one of the tool benches. "I was just thinking that you and I don't talk enough."
"I see. And how much would be enough?" Kitt responded, much to Devon's surprise.
"I'm not entirely sure," Devon answered truthfully, feeling a bit ill at ease around the artificial intelligence. He watched the scanner silently track back and forth, thinking it might be best if he carried on with his business. But then again, it was a bit ridiculous to be intimidated by the car he had helped to create. "How are you today, Kitt?"
"I'm fine. And you?" Kitt asked. Devon noticed there was something like confusion or even suspicion in Kitt's slightly accented voice.
"Very well, Kitt, very well. A little busy, but that's to be expected. How are you surviving Michael's vacation?"
"I must admit, it is quiet here without him."
"I would imagine so. You spend most of your time with Michael. It must be strange not having him here."
"Yes," he said simply, and Devon wondered if Kitt felt a little left behind. Devon had been a bit surprised that Michael had chosen to fly to an island for his holiday. For some reason, Devon had expected him to take a trip somewhere with Kitt.
"Did Michael happen to mention why he chose to go to Bermuda?"
"He said something about disappearing into the Triangle, but other than that, I simply assumed he wanted to go somewhere warm with a high concentration of . . ." Kitt stopped but Devon didn't need the AI to fill in the details. "Why do you ask?" Kitt continued, suspiciously.
"Curiosity. Nothing more."
Kitt didn't respond and Devon struggled to come up with something else to say. The silence was uncomfortable and he got the impression that Kitt thought he was checking up on Michael. From Kitt's point of view, it must seem rather late in the game to try to start a friendly conversation.
"Devon, I hope you don't let Michael's demeanor fool you into thinking that he's irresponsible. He has his fun and he can be a bit rash at times, but he is a good investigator and he does his job well."
Devon got the impression from Kitt's slightly exasperated tone that he was being chastised. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise, Kitt," he clarified. "I realize that Michael is doing a commendable job, even though he and I may disagree on approach sometimes. I admit that in the beginning, I had questioned Wilton's selection for your driver, but I've come to realize that he had very good reasons for choosing Michael. Wilton was very astute in knowing what skills would be needed in this line of work."
"I'm glad you recognize that, Devon. As far as I'm concerned, Michael is the perfect person for the job."
"It's good to hear that you two are getting along so well."
"I admit that I had my doubts at first as well, but I think we've progressed to a point where we're both comfortable working together," Kitt said, softening a bit.
"That's wonderful. Were Wilton alive today, I am certain that he would be very proud of both of you."
"Thank you, Devon."
There was another uncomfortable pause, but this time, Kitt broke the silence. "Sometimes I find it disappointing that I never really knew the man responsible for my creation. In human terms, it's like not knowing one's father."
"It is too bad, Kitt. Wilton was a remarkable man." Devon thought back to his friend's final days. Wilton had not really been the same person in the end. He had been in so much pain and most of his energy had been spent trying to hide it. His usual exuberance had left him by the time they had found Michael in the desert. Devon felt a pang of loneliness, and realized that he was still grieving over the loss of his friend. Most of the time he was too busy to think about Wilton, which in itself made him feel guilty, but the grief still came to him during the quiet times. "I'm certain you would have liked him. In his early years, he was very much like Michael."
"Really? That's hard to imagine," Kitt said. "Wilton seemed to be a rather harsh person."
"Oh, he could be. And I guess in the days when you knew him, he was, but he wasn't always like that. He had a lot of the same drive and ambition that Michael has. You should have seen him during the war."
"Is that when you and Wilton meet?" Kitt asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
"Yes. We met in France, helping the Resistance. And truth be told, I didn't like him very much at the time."
"Really? That's odd, considering you were such good friends after the war."
Devon smiled at the memory and at Kitt's surprise. "I first met Wilton shortly after the liberation of Paris. It was a crazy time. There were people everywhere celebrating and enjoying the victory. The bars and sidewalk cafes opened and there were people in the streets everywhere, reveling. A group of us OSS officers were in a bar having a few pints before we were sent back out into the field. This group of Marines came in, brash as anything, yelling and causing a ruckus. Wilton was the loudest of the bunch. They were carrying on about how they were going to be the ones to save all of France. Of course, that didn't go over well with us."
"Why not?" Kitt asked.
Devon smiled. "Because we had been in France for quite some time at that point and felt that we had contributed significantly to the liberation. The Marines were newcomers. And pride and alcohol are a dangerous combination."
Devon motioned to Kitt's hood. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not," Kitt answered.
Devon half-sat, half-leaned against the hood, and directed his story through Kitt's windshield.
"Anyway, the Marines took to taunting us, and me in particular, being British. Wilton was the worst of the lot - brash, arrogant, and insufferable. I don't recall exactly how it started, but he said something that got to me, and I'm ashamed to say that I threw the first punch."
"You and Wilton got into a bar brawl the first time you met?! Devon, I can't see you hitting anyone," Kitt said, aghast.
Devon smiled at the changes time had wrought. "I was a bit rash as a young man, myself. I think you'll find that most people tend to mellow with age."
"So you hit Wilton, then what?"
"Then we got thrown out of the bar. And you can imagine my surprise a few days later when four Marines were assigned to my unit and Wilton was one of them. Oh, I wanted nothing to do with him. And believe me the feeling was mutual, but we had no choice, we had to work together. Things were very strained between us for a time."
"How did you get passed it?" Kitt asked.
"Wilton was the kind of man who's respect you had to earn. The Marines came into the OSS feeling as though they were there to teach a group of spies how to fight. They were incredibly well suited to combat, but handling delicate situations behind enemy lines often required more finesse than brute force. Eventually all of us began to realize that each group had skills and abilities that the other could learn from. Working together allowed us to accomplish things, where separately we might have failed. Wilton came to respect that."
"I can see now why you would say that Michael and Wilton were alike."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"On our first mission, Michael told me to shut up and refused to acknowledge to me. Then he entered me in that demolition derby."
Devon shook his head, laughing. "I suppose one might say that was a similar sort of meeting."
"And I thought he was brash and arrogant too," Kitt said. "I guess good friends don't always present that way."
"That's very insightful, Kitt."
"So what was it like, being in the war with Wilton. Did you end up working together for a long time?"
"Not in quantity of time, no. But we worked together under some harrowing conditions and sometimes those friendships become important to you very quickly. We were both risking our lives on a day-to-day basis. Much as you and Michael do."
"He risks his life," Kitt said. "I have no life to risk."
Devon looked through Kitt's windshield and shifted his position slightly. He marveled at how quick Kitt was to devalue himself, when really, he was the most unique 'life' in existence. "But you do have a life to risk, Kitt. While it may not be as easy for you to be 'killed,' you could very well be destroyed someday. In that way, you are as mortal as we are. Some might argue that you're more valuable because you're unique."
"But I'm not human."
"Of course not, but you are sentient. You do have a life and times to live, Kitt. You are special."
"But I could be brought back to life if something happened. That isn't true for Michael."
Devon was sensing that this was a losing battle -- Kitt couldn't help his programming. Devon shifted again and stretched his back a bit.
"You can sit in the car, Devon. There's no reason for you to be uncomfortable."
"Thank you. I think I will." Devon normally felt a little out of place in Kitt's cabin, especially since he had come to think of it as Michael's space, but his back was bothering him and Kitt did offer.
"It's hell to get old," Devon said amiably as he settled into the bucket seat.
"I wouldn't know," Kitt responded dryly.
"Consider yourself lucky," Devon said jovially, but his mood darkened again as his mind wandered back to thoughts of his friend. "When I look at how Wilton died . . . well, I hope that I fall asleep some night and just don't wake up. And in the mean time, I'm very thankful for my health."
"Wilton was in a lot of pain, wasn't he?"
Devon sighed. He remembered the many times he saw Wilton grimace and try to hide it, always trying to pretend he was fine. "Yes, Kitt. Wilton was too proud or too stubborn to admit to people that he was hurting, but yes, he was in a lot of pain."
"Was it hard to see him suffer?" Kitt asked, after a pause.
Devon was surprised at the question. It was something he would not have expected an artificial intelligence to understand. What did Kitt know about pain? Devon contemplated the gauges and lights on the dash, amazed. Maybe Wilton had understood the complexity of the life they had created, but he hadn't -- until now.
"Yes, Kitt, it was very difficult. Why do you ask?"
"Because when Michael was shot at Comtron and was in the car in pain, it was hard to see him suffering. I was very worried that he might not make it."
"And, at the time, he wasn't even treating you well."
"We had come to an understanding," Kitt said, defensively. "And I felt . . . responsible for him."
Devon watched the last red bar on the voice modulator fade out, thinking back to similar circumstances in his own life. When he spoke, it was quietly; he didn't often share the story of the fight against the German patrol with people. It was one of those scars of war that he normally didn't show off, but he got the sense that maybe Kitt would understand.
"When Wilton and I were in France, an RAF pilot was shot down near our location. Our unit was sent to rescue him. It was deep behind enemy lines and the Germans were trying to get to the pilot as well. It was our misfortune to get too close to a German patrol and end up in a firefight. We managed to defeat them, but three of the men in our unit were killed and another was badly injured." Devon looked down at his hands, fighting the discomfort of relaying such a personal story. "The injured man was a friend of mine named Stewart Bishop. He was younger than the rest of us, but a good man. Very smart."
Devon sighed before continuing, picturing the long-gone face. "I knew he wasn't going to survive. The wound was bad and he was losing too much blood. But I lied to him. I told him he'd be fine. We had been working with a farmer who was part of the Resistance, using his barn as a place to store supplies. I told Stewart that I would get him back to the farm and from there, we would be able to get him medical attention. I hoisted him over my shoulder and started walking. Wilton offered to help me carry him, but I felt it was my responsibility. Instead of going on with the others to find the pilot, Wilton stayed behind with me, providing cover. Stewart died long before we were even close to the farm."
There was a long silence, a quiet, heavy sorrow. "I'm sorry," Kitt said finally. "It seems so inadequate, but I don't know what else to say."
"It's a fact of war," Devon said, with the false bravado that many veterans used to hide their wounds. "But shared struggles like that forge eternal friendships, Kitt. Wilton and I were very close thereafter. Having someone who you trust to cover your back when the odds are against you is invaluable. And I think, if I'm not mistaken, that trust exists between you and Michael."
"I believe so, Devon. There have been a number of times when we've come under fire. And several times now that both of us were in danger."
"I'm glad you can count on each other. I would be worried if you couldn't. There are going to be situations where both of you are going to have to trust each other implicitly. I believe that's the relationship that Wilton hoped would develop between you."
"I hope it has," Kitt said. "Devon, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did you ever worry that you would let Wilton down?" Kitt asked, hesitantly.
"Let him down? I don't think that was something that played into our relationship much, Kitt. Why?"
"There are times when I'm afraid that the limits of my capabilities will cost Michael his life. Sometimes I think that perhaps my programming went a little too far away from KARR's."
"What do you mean?" Devon asked, disturbed that Kitt would admire something in KARR's primitive programming.
"What if there were a situation where I couldn't help Michael because it would mean harming another human being? Don't get me wrong, Devon, I know that KARR's instinct toward self-preservation went much too far. It just seems that in some situations, like war or police work, it's required to injure those who would harm others."
"I see what you're saying, Kitt, but we all have our limitations and there are many ways in which you can protect Michael that a human being couldn't." Devon looked down at the dash and then pulled at his sleeve, straightening the cufflink. He tried to push aside the haunting memories of lifeless faces and crumpled bodies. "I think you're fortunate to not be capable of killing."
"Even if it was necessary to save an innocent life?" Kitt asked, clearly surprised at Devon's answer.
"Killing is a lot to live with, Kitt. Just causes make it easier to accept, but there is still that knowledge that you have killed.
"I think that when we realized the extent of our mistake with KARR," Devon continued, "Wilton intentionally went to the other extreme with your programming. We wanted you to have the same love of life that most humans do. And that would make things difficult for you if you ended up taking a life, even if it was to save others."
"But if Michael died because I couldn't help him . . ."
"That would be a terrible thing, Kitt. And hopefully that will be a bridge we won't ever have to cross."
There was a quiet moment between them, but this time the silence was amiable, instead of uncomfortable.
"Kitt, I've been meaning to say that I am very sorry I didn't tell you and Michael about KARR. I should have, but I didn't. I'm sorry to have put both of you in danger that way."
"I appreciate that, Devon." Kitt paused. "Sometimes I wish that we hadn't had to destroy KARR in order to stop him. I wish there had been some way in which he could have been repaired."
Devon looked up, realizing for the first time that Kitt had, in fact, taken a life. Not a human life, but one of his own kind.
"For all KARR's faults, he was, like me, the sum of his programming."
Devon chuckled softly. "Kitt, you are so much more than the sum of your programming. We may have believed otherwise in the beginning, but you have grown and developed into your own person in ways that we never could have anticipated. I'm sorry that I have not taken the time to discover that before now."
"Thank you, Devon. I'm glad to have the opportunity to learn more about you as well. I think we have much in common."
As they were talking, Bonnie passed by the door to the garage and did a double take. She entered the room with a wary expression. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Of course," Devon said, extracting himself from the car to get the files he had set on the tool bench. "I stopped by to give you these."
She accepted the folder and looked back and forth between the two of them. "Is there something wrong with Kitt?" she asked Devon.
"No. We were just chatting."
That earned him another odd look. "Okay," she said, suspiciously, before retreating slowly from the garage.
Devon turned back to Kitt. "I'm afraid that duty does call, but I have very much enjoyed talking with you, Kitt."
"And I, you."
"We'll have to do it again some time," Devon said as he turned to go.
"Any time, Devon. Any time."
----------------
-knightshade
May 20, 2002
Rating: PG, no warnings
To Tomy: Thanks, as always, for all of your help.
To Apollo: Thanks for the history help and the beta read. Sorry I didn't include Monty. :-)
Note: This story is set in the first season, shortly after Trust Doesn't Rust.
Swapping Stories
Devon Miles strolled into the garage, passed the stands of equipment and racks of tools, and into the service bay, which, to his surprise, was empty. Well, almost empty. He looked at the gleaming black car in front of him. "Kitt, have you seen Bonnie?" he asked.
"She's working on the improved power relays in the lab," Kitt replied politely.
"Thank you," Devon said, about to leave. He was carrying a stack of research materials he wanted Bonnie to look over. Instead of continuing on his way, he paused and contemplated the car in front of him. Michael was on the vacation that he had been demanding and Bonnie had been busy the last few days. Devon suspected that Kitt was probably lonely sitting in the garage by himself.
"Is there something wrong?" Kitt asked, as Devon realized he'd been staring.
"Not at all." Devon set down the folder of papers on one of the tool benches. "I was just thinking that you and I don't talk enough."
"I see. And how much would be enough?" Kitt responded, much to Devon's surprise.
"I'm not entirely sure," Devon answered truthfully, feeling a bit ill at ease around the artificial intelligence. He watched the scanner silently track back and forth, thinking it might be best if he carried on with his business. But then again, it was a bit ridiculous to be intimidated by the car he had helped to create. "How are you today, Kitt?"
"I'm fine. And you?" Kitt asked. Devon noticed there was something like confusion or even suspicion in Kitt's slightly accented voice.
"Very well, Kitt, very well. A little busy, but that's to be expected. How are you surviving Michael's vacation?"
"I must admit, it is quiet here without him."
"I would imagine so. You spend most of your time with Michael. It must be strange not having him here."
"Yes," he said simply, and Devon wondered if Kitt felt a little left behind. Devon had been a bit surprised that Michael had chosen to fly to an island for his holiday. For some reason, Devon had expected him to take a trip somewhere with Kitt.
"Did Michael happen to mention why he chose to go to Bermuda?"
"He said something about disappearing into the Triangle, but other than that, I simply assumed he wanted to go somewhere warm with a high concentration of . . ." Kitt stopped but Devon didn't need the AI to fill in the details. "Why do you ask?" Kitt continued, suspiciously.
"Curiosity. Nothing more."
Kitt didn't respond and Devon struggled to come up with something else to say. The silence was uncomfortable and he got the impression that Kitt thought he was checking up on Michael. From Kitt's point of view, it must seem rather late in the game to try to start a friendly conversation.
"Devon, I hope you don't let Michael's demeanor fool you into thinking that he's irresponsible. He has his fun and he can be a bit rash at times, but he is a good investigator and he does his job well."
Devon got the impression from Kitt's slightly exasperated tone that he was being chastised. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise, Kitt," he clarified. "I realize that Michael is doing a commendable job, even though he and I may disagree on approach sometimes. I admit that in the beginning, I had questioned Wilton's selection for your driver, but I've come to realize that he had very good reasons for choosing Michael. Wilton was very astute in knowing what skills would be needed in this line of work."
"I'm glad you recognize that, Devon. As far as I'm concerned, Michael is the perfect person for the job."
"It's good to hear that you two are getting along so well."
"I admit that I had my doubts at first as well, but I think we've progressed to a point where we're both comfortable working together," Kitt said, softening a bit.
"That's wonderful. Were Wilton alive today, I am certain that he would be very proud of both of you."
"Thank you, Devon."
There was another uncomfortable pause, but this time, Kitt broke the silence. "Sometimes I find it disappointing that I never really knew the man responsible for my creation. In human terms, it's like not knowing one's father."
"It is too bad, Kitt. Wilton was a remarkable man." Devon thought back to his friend's final days. Wilton had not really been the same person in the end. He had been in so much pain and most of his energy had been spent trying to hide it. His usual exuberance had left him by the time they had found Michael in the desert. Devon felt a pang of loneliness, and realized that he was still grieving over the loss of his friend. Most of the time he was too busy to think about Wilton, which in itself made him feel guilty, but the grief still came to him during the quiet times. "I'm certain you would have liked him. In his early years, he was very much like Michael."
"Really? That's hard to imagine," Kitt said. "Wilton seemed to be a rather harsh person."
"Oh, he could be. And I guess in the days when you knew him, he was, but he wasn't always like that. He had a lot of the same drive and ambition that Michael has. You should have seen him during the war."
"Is that when you and Wilton meet?" Kitt asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
"Yes. We met in France, helping the Resistance. And truth be told, I didn't like him very much at the time."
"Really? That's odd, considering you were such good friends after the war."
Devon smiled at the memory and at Kitt's surprise. "I first met Wilton shortly after the liberation of Paris. It was a crazy time. There were people everywhere celebrating and enjoying the victory. The bars and sidewalk cafes opened and there were people in the streets everywhere, reveling. A group of us OSS officers were in a bar having a few pints before we were sent back out into the field. This group of Marines came in, brash as anything, yelling and causing a ruckus. Wilton was the loudest of the bunch. They were carrying on about how they were going to be the ones to save all of France. Of course, that didn't go over well with us."
"Why not?" Kitt asked.
Devon smiled. "Because we had been in France for quite some time at that point and felt that we had contributed significantly to the liberation. The Marines were newcomers. And pride and alcohol are a dangerous combination."
Devon motioned to Kitt's hood. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not," Kitt answered.
Devon half-sat, half-leaned against the hood, and directed his story through Kitt's windshield.
"Anyway, the Marines took to taunting us, and me in particular, being British. Wilton was the worst of the lot - brash, arrogant, and insufferable. I don't recall exactly how it started, but he said something that got to me, and I'm ashamed to say that I threw the first punch."
"You and Wilton got into a bar brawl the first time you met?! Devon, I can't see you hitting anyone," Kitt said, aghast.
Devon smiled at the changes time had wrought. "I was a bit rash as a young man, myself. I think you'll find that most people tend to mellow with age."
"So you hit Wilton, then what?"
"Then we got thrown out of the bar. And you can imagine my surprise a few days later when four Marines were assigned to my unit and Wilton was one of them. Oh, I wanted nothing to do with him. And believe me the feeling was mutual, but we had no choice, we had to work together. Things were very strained between us for a time."
"How did you get passed it?" Kitt asked.
"Wilton was the kind of man who's respect you had to earn. The Marines came into the OSS feeling as though they were there to teach a group of spies how to fight. They were incredibly well suited to combat, but handling delicate situations behind enemy lines often required more finesse than brute force. Eventually all of us began to realize that each group had skills and abilities that the other could learn from. Working together allowed us to accomplish things, where separately we might have failed. Wilton came to respect that."
"I can see now why you would say that Michael and Wilton were alike."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"On our first mission, Michael told me to shut up and refused to acknowledge to me. Then he entered me in that demolition derby."
Devon shook his head, laughing. "I suppose one might say that was a similar sort of meeting."
"And I thought he was brash and arrogant too," Kitt said. "I guess good friends don't always present that way."
"That's very insightful, Kitt."
"So what was it like, being in the war with Wilton. Did you end up working together for a long time?"
"Not in quantity of time, no. But we worked together under some harrowing conditions and sometimes those friendships become important to you very quickly. We were both risking our lives on a day-to-day basis. Much as you and Michael do."
"He risks his life," Kitt said. "I have no life to risk."
Devon looked through Kitt's windshield and shifted his position slightly. He marveled at how quick Kitt was to devalue himself, when really, he was the most unique 'life' in existence. "But you do have a life to risk, Kitt. While it may not be as easy for you to be 'killed,' you could very well be destroyed someday. In that way, you are as mortal as we are. Some might argue that you're more valuable because you're unique."
"But I'm not human."
"Of course not, but you are sentient. You do have a life and times to live, Kitt. You are special."
"But I could be brought back to life if something happened. That isn't true for Michael."
Devon was sensing that this was a losing battle -- Kitt couldn't help his programming. Devon shifted again and stretched his back a bit.
"You can sit in the car, Devon. There's no reason for you to be uncomfortable."
"Thank you. I think I will." Devon normally felt a little out of place in Kitt's cabin, especially since he had come to think of it as Michael's space, but his back was bothering him and Kitt did offer.
"It's hell to get old," Devon said amiably as he settled into the bucket seat.
"I wouldn't know," Kitt responded dryly.
"Consider yourself lucky," Devon said jovially, but his mood darkened again as his mind wandered back to thoughts of his friend. "When I look at how Wilton died . . . well, I hope that I fall asleep some night and just don't wake up. And in the mean time, I'm very thankful for my health."
"Wilton was in a lot of pain, wasn't he?"
Devon sighed. He remembered the many times he saw Wilton grimace and try to hide it, always trying to pretend he was fine. "Yes, Kitt. Wilton was too proud or too stubborn to admit to people that he was hurting, but yes, he was in a lot of pain."
"Was it hard to see him suffer?" Kitt asked, after a pause.
Devon was surprised at the question. It was something he would not have expected an artificial intelligence to understand. What did Kitt know about pain? Devon contemplated the gauges and lights on the dash, amazed. Maybe Wilton had understood the complexity of the life they had created, but he hadn't -- until now.
"Yes, Kitt, it was very difficult. Why do you ask?"
"Because when Michael was shot at Comtron and was in the car in pain, it was hard to see him suffering. I was very worried that he might not make it."
"And, at the time, he wasn't even treating you well."
"We had come to an understanding," Kitt said, defensively. "And I felt . . . responsible for him."
Devon watched the last red bar on the voice modulator fade out, thinking back to similar circumstances in his own life. When he spoke, it was quietly; he didn't often share the story of the fight against the German patrol with people. It was one of those scars of war that he normally didn't show off, but he got the sense that maybe Kitt would understand.
"When Wilton and I were in France, an RAF pilot was shot down near our location. Our unit was sent to rescue him. It was deep behind enemy lines and the Germans were trying to get to the pilot as well. It was our misfortune to get too close to a German patrol and end up in a firefight. We managed to defeat them, but three of the men in our unit were killed and another was badly injured." Devon looked down at his hands, fighting the discomfort of relaying such a personal story. "The injured man was a friend of mine named Stewart Bishop. He was younger than the rest of us, but a good man. Very smart."
Devon sighed before continuing, picturing the long-gone face. "I knew he wasn't going to survive. The wound was bad and he was losing too much blood. But I lied to him. I told him he'd be fine. We had been working with a farmer who was part of the Resistance, using his barn as a place to store supplies. I told Stewart that I would get him back to the farm and from there, we would be able to get him medical attention. I hoisted him over my shoulder and started walking. Wilton offered to help me carry him, but I felt it was my responsibility. Instead of going on with the others to find the pilot, Wilton stayed behind with me, providing cover. Stewart died long before we were even close to the farm."
There was a long silence, a quiet, heavy sorrow. "I'm sorry," Kitt said finally. "It seems so inadequate, but I don't know what else to say."
"It's a fact of war," Devon said, with the false bravado that many veterans used to hide their wounds. "But shared struggles like that forge eternal friendships, Kitt. Wilton and I were very close thereafter. Having someone who you trust to cover your back when the odds are against you is invaluable. And I think, if I'm not mistaken, that trust exists between you and Michael."
"I believe so, Devon. There have been a number of times when we've come under fire. And several times now that both of us were in danger."
"I'm glad you can count on each other. I would be worried if you couldn't. There are going to be situations where both of you are going to have to trust each other implicitly. I believe that's the relationship that Wilton hoped would develop between you."
"I hope it has," Kitt said. "Devon, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did you ever worry that you would let Wilton down?" Kitt asked, hesitantly.
"Let him down? I don't think that was something that played into our relationship much, Kitt. Why?"
"There are times when I'm afraid that the limits of my capabilities will cost Michael his life. Sometimes I think that perhaps my programming went a little too far away from KARR's."
"What do you mean?" Devon asked, disturbed that Kitt would admire something in KARR's primitive programming.
"What if there were a situation where I couldn't help Michael because it would mean harming another human being? Don't get me wrong, Devon, I know that KARR's instinct toward self-preservation went much too far. It just seems that in some situations, like war or police work, it's required to injure those who would harm others."
"I see what you're saying, Kitt, but we all have our limitations and there are many ways in which you can protect Michael that a human being couldn't." Devon looked down at the dash and then pulled at his sleeve, straightening the cufflink. He tried to push aside the haunting memories of lifeless faces and crumpled bodies. "I think you're fortunate to not be capable of killing."
"Even if it was necessary to save an innocent life?" Kitt asked, clearly surprised at Devon's answer.
"Killing is a lot to live with, Kitt. Just causes make it easier to accept, but there is still that knowledge that you have killed.
"I think that when we realized the extent of our mistake with KARR," Devon continued, "Wilton intentionally went to the other extreme with your programming. We wanted you to have the same love of life that most humans do. And that would make things difficult for you if you ended up taking a life, even if it was to save others."
"But if Michael died because I couldn't help him . . ."
"That would be a terrible thing, Kitt. And hopefully that will be a bridge we won't ever have to cross."
There was a quiet moment between them, but this time the silence was amiable, instead of uncomfortable.
"Kitt, I've been meaning to say that I am very sorry I didn't tell you and Michael about KARR. I should have, but I didn't. I'm sorry to have put both of you in danger that way."
"I appreciate that, Devon." Kitt paused. "Sometimes I wish that we hadn't had to destroy KARR in order to stop him. I wish there had been some way in which he could have been repaired."
Devon looked up, realizing for the first time that Kitt had, in fact, taken a life. Not a human life, but one of his own kind.
"For all KARR's faults, he was, like me, the sum of his programming."
Devon chuckled softly. "Kitt, you are so much more than the sum of your programming. We may have believed otherwise in the beginning, but you have grown and developed into your own person in ways that we never could have anticipated. I'm sorry that I have not taken the time to discover that before now."
"Thank you, Devon. I'm glad to have the opportunity to learn more about you as well. I think we have much in common."
As they were talking, Bonnie passed by the door to the garage and did a double take. She entered the room with a wary expression. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Of course," Devon said, extracting himself from the car to get the files he had set on the tool bench. "I stopped by to give you these."
She accepted the folder and looked back and forth between the two of them. "Is there something wrong with Kitt?" she asked Devon.
"No. We were just chatting."
That earned him another odd look. "Okay," she said, suspiciously, before retreating slowly from the garage.
Devon turned back to Kitt. "I'm afraid that duty does call, but I have very much enjoyed talking with you, Kitt."
"And I, you."
"We'll have to do it again some time," Devon said as he turned to go.
"Any time, Devon. Any time."
----------------
-knightshade
May 20, 2002