KR ficcage
More Knight Rider fic from me, this is mostly due to elfinessy writing inspiring fics, and flickums watching lots of Knight Rider with me.
This is set during 'Goliath - Part Two'.
Trial By Fire
Author's Notes: Set during 'Goliath - Part Two'. Ever notice the time-jump between Michael's collapse and the next scene? For flickums
Wind whipped in through the jammed-open window, dust and sand driving into his face, stinging his eyes. No matter how lightly he touched the gas peddle, the damaged car still hurtled forward at terrific speed, propelled by the ram-jet that Michael had cobbled together.
"Michael, can't we slow down?" Kitt's cracked, warbling voice pleaded. Only a few of the red LEDs were lighting up, now. They had to get out of here, fast.
"I hear ya, but this ramjet's tough to control!" Michael yelled over the loud scream of the engine and the protesting exhaust system, "Hang on, buddy!"
"But where on Earth are we going?"
"Out of the desert!" Michael replied through clenched teeth. The scenery before him seemed the blur and shimmer for a moment. Michael blinked rapidly, 'Just heat-waves' He told himself 'It's just a mirage.' But knew he was lying to himself.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel even tighter as he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him, almost like vertigo. He tried to shake it off; he was not going to pass out now. Kitt needed him. This mess was his fault, and if he didn't do something, didn't get Kitt back to the Foundation, to April and all his technicians and diagnostic equipment then Kitt would...No. He was not going to let that happen.
His vision was going blurry again. Not good.
"Michael?" Kitt said hesitantly and Michael could scarcely suppress a wince at how damaged Kitt sounded, how broken and hurt.
"Yeah, Kitt?" He said, and almost winced again at how distant and croaky his own voice sounded. Kitt was sure to know something was wrong, even without his scanners and vital signs monitors.
"Michael, I think my exhaust system is close to burn-out." Kitt said, "We need to stop and let it cool down."
Kitt's voice was worse, now, like someone speaking through a mouthful of water. They might not have enough time for cool down. Michael looked around - they were at least on the outskirts of Las Vegas, now, maybe even close enough for him to catch a taxi.
"No problem, pal." Michael said, waiting until they were on a relatively empty stretch of road and then slammed his foot on the brake. The bent and buckled form of the Knight 2000 screeched to a halt, throwing up a cloud of dust and tire smoke.
"I'll take a cab back to the Foundation, and get them to send a tow-truck out for you. You gonna be ok here by yourself?"
"Yes, Michael," Kitt replied patiently, "But what about you? I can't scan you, but by the prevailing weather conditions and your level of exposure, you could be suffering from heat exhaustion or even sunstroke..."
"I'll be fine, buddy," Michael reassured his partner with a gentle pat on the dash, "I'll be fine."
He went for the door handle, before remembering that the door was bent and wouldn't open. He would have the crawl out through the roof and window.
A few minutes and some wriggling later, Michael felt his feet touch the ground, his knees almost buckling when he attempted to put his weight on them. He remained there for a moment, leaning against the car, his head throbbing and his breath coming in short pants.
"Michael?" Kitt sounded agitated, worried.
"Don't worry, pal," Michael said, pushing himself away from the door, "I'll send help. I promise."
"Michael, please be careful." The AI pleaded.
Michael just smiled and staggered off to find a taxi and get help for his injured partner.
Devon Miles was a man of considerable patience. He had served in the RAF and the OSS during World War Two, and was all too familiar with that dreaded concept of 'Hurry up and wait'. But this scenario was quite different. The waiting and wondering was causing an anxiety almost great enough to make him resume his adolescent habit of biting his nails.
This was about Michael, a man he had come to regard as almost like a son, and it was about Kitt, a unique life form and someone he considered a dear friend. They were out there somewhere, alone and out of communications in the middle of a desert, and all he could do was sit in this air-conditioned office and pray.
He and April both looked up when they heard the door click shut. He was on his feet even before April called his name, rushing to help the man who had just staggered in, pale and exhausted beneath the sunburn.
Michael looked up at April and Devon, on either side of him, holding him upright, he looked at them as if trying to decide of they were real, then he smiled slightly, relaxing now that he was finally safe.
And promptly collapsed into unconsciousness.
Michael woke to the feeling of something cool on his face, he reached up to see what it was, but his wrist was snagged. He opened his eyes and realised that an IV line was inserted. Probably a saline drip, he guessed, and the cool sensation on his forehead was a cool cloth.
"Ah, you're awake." Michael struggled to focus, and when his eyes finally decided to co-operate, he saw Devon sat on a chair by his bed.
"Devon," He tried to say, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Devon merely poured a glass of juice - probably Gatorade judging by the colour and smell - and helped him sip it.
"Devon," He tried again, his voice much clearer this time, "Where's Kitt?"
"April and the other technicians are working on him now, Michael." Devon reassured him gently. Michael almost sagged in relief.
Wordlessly, Devon reached in the bedside draw and pulled out the comlink. Michael gripped the battered black watch like a talisman.
"Kitt said he would call as soon as he was fully online again."
Michael nodded tiredly, letting Devon help him sip more Gatorade before sinking back onto the bed, finally relaxed.
He was safe. His partner was safe.
Everything else could wait.
The End.
Comment, crit, flaming tacos?
(X-posted to my personal journal)
This is set during 'Goliath - Part Two'.
Trial By Fire
Author's Notes: Set during 'Goliath - Part Two'. Ever notice the time-jump between Michael's collapse and the next scene? For flickums
Wind whipped in through the jammed-open window, dust and sand driving into his face, stinging his eyes. No matter how lightly he touched the gas peddle, the damaged car still hurtled forward at terrific speed, propelled by the ram-jet that Michael had cobbled together.
"Michael, can't we slow down?" Kitt's cracked, warbling voice pleaded. Only a few of the red LEDs were lighting up, now. They had to get out of here, fast.
"I hear ya, but this ramjet's tough to control!" Michael yelled over the loud scream of the engine and the protesting exhaust system, "Hang on, buddy!"
"But where on Earth are we going?"
"Out of the desert!" Michael replied through clenched teeth. The scenery before him seemed the blur and shimmer for a moment. Michael blinked rapidly, 'Just heat-waves' He told himself 'It's just a mirage.' But knew he was lying to himself.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel even tighter as he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him, almost like vertigo. He tried to shake it off; he was not going to pass out now. Kitt needed him. This mess was his fault, and if he didn't do something, didn't get Kitt back to the Foundation, to April and all his technicians and diagnostic equipment then Kitt would...No. He was not going to let that happen.
His vision was going blurry again. Not good.
"Michael?" Kitt said hesitantly and Michael could scarcely suppress a wince at how damaged Kitt sounded, how broken and hurt.
"Yeah, Kitt?" He said, and almost winced again at how distant and croaky his own voice sounded. Kitt was sure to know something was wrong, even without his scanners and vital signs monitors.
"Michael, I think my exhaust system is close to burn-out." Kitt said, "We need to stop and let it cool down."
Kitt's voice was worse, now, like someone speaking through a mouthful of water. They might not have enough time for cool down. Michael looked around - they were at least on the outskirts of Las Vegas, now, maybe even close enough for him to catch a taxi.
"No problem, pal." Michael said, waiting until they were on a relatively empty stretch of road and then slammed his foot on the brake. The bent and buckled form of the Knight 2000 screeched to a halt, throwing up a cloud of dust and tire smoke.
"I'll take a cab back to the Foundation, and get them to send a tow-truck out for you. You gonna be ok here by yourself?"
"Yes, Michael," Kitt replied patiently, "But what about you? I can't scan you, but by the prevailing weather conditions and your level of exposure, you could be suffering from heat exhaustion or even sunstroke..."
"I'll be fine, buddy," Michael reassured his partner with a gentle pat on the dash, "I'll be fine."
He went for the door handle, before remembering that the door was bent and wouldn't open. He would have the crawl out through the roof and window.
A few minutes and some wriggling later, Michael felt his feet touch the ground, his knees almost buckling when he attempted to put his weight on them. He remained there for a moment, leaning against the car, his head throbbing and his breath coming in short pants.
"Michael?" Kitt sounded agitated, worried.
"Don't worry, pal," Michael said, pushing himself away from the door, "I'll send help. I promise."
"Michael, please be careful." The AI pleaded.
Michael just smiled and staggered off to find a taxi and get help for his injured partner.
Devon Miles was a man of considerable patience. He had served in the RAF and the OSS during World War Two, and was all too familiar with that dreaded concept of 'Hurry up and wait'. But this scenario was quite different. The waiting and wondering was causing an anxiety almost great enough to make him resume his adolescent habit of biting his nails.
This was about Michael, a man he had come to regard as almost like a son, and it was about Kitt, a unique life form and someone he considered a dear friend. They were out there somewhere, alone and out of communications in the middle of a desert, and all he could do was sit in this air-conditioned office and pray.
He and April both looked up when they heard the door click shut. He was on his feet even before April called his name, rushing to help the man who had just staggered in, pale and exhausted beneath the sunburn.
Michael looked up at April and Devon, on either side of him, holding him upright, he looked at them as if trying to decide of they were real, then he smiled slightly, relaxing now that he was finally safe.
And promptly collapsed into unconsciousness.
Michael woke to the feeling of something cool on his face, he reached up to see what it was, but his wrist was snagged. He opened his eyes and realised that an IV line was inserted. Probably a saline drip, he guessed, and the cool sensation on his forehead was a cool cloth.
"Ah, you're awake." Michael struggled to focus, and when his eyes finally decided to co-operate, he saw Devon sat on a chair by his bed.
"Devon," He tried to say, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Devon merely poured a glass of juice - probably Gatorade judging by the colour and smell - and helped him sip it.
"Devon," He tried again, his voice much clearer this time, "Where's Kitt?"
"April and the other technicians are working on him now, Michael." Devon reassured him gently. Michael almost sagged in relief.
Wordlessly, Devon reached in the bedside draw and pulled out the comlink. Michael gripped the battered black watch like a talisman.
"Kitt said he would call as soon as he was fully online again."
Michael nodded tiredly, letting Devon help him sip more Gatorade before sinking back onto the bed, finally relaxed.
He was safe. His partner was safe.
Everything else could wait.
The End.
Comment, crit, flaming tacos?
(X-posted to my personal journal)