Playing God

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Knight Rider Characters: Copyright Glen A Larson and Universal Studios
The Roads Not Taken: Robert Frost

Dr. Brenda Summerfield slowly closed the file on her lap and looked up. "What gave you the right to play God?" She asked, her voice quivering with anger.

"I only understand what I read here Mr. Miles. You robbed a man of his past. You took away everything that was his. And, you did it arbitrarily. Did you ever for a moment think about what you were doing?"

Devon sat forward. "How dare you sit there and judge me, judge Wilton Knight. You have no idea what has happened over the past six years. It tells you nothing about the man and who he has become."

"No. No it doesn't. But it tells me how a callous misguided millionaire and his aide destroyed a man's life."

"Very well." She stood up putting the file under her arm. "But this is not the end. I plan to press charges if Mr. Knight dies."

Devon dropped back down in his chair as he saw the door close. "Dear God," he whispered. How had they gotten to this point? Was she right? Had he and Wilton played God with Michael's life? He knew Michael was comfortable in his new identity now, even cherished it at times. But what was the cost?

He stared at the closed door. Dr. Brenda Summerfield was a young zealot, the most dangerous kind of crusader. Young and hungry to climb to the top, she didn't care who she crushed on her way to victory. On staff at St. Andrews when Michael was brought in, she volunteered to assist Dr. Howard on Michael's case. What better way to make a name for herself than to bring down a giant like The Foundation For Law and Government?

He looked at the clock on his desk. Almost ten A.M. How many weeks had it been? Four weeks tomorrow since he had received the devastating call from K.I.T.T. Michael had been injured, severely. And now he lay in a coma.

He ran his hand through his thick white hair. What if..? What if Dr. Summerfield was right? What if he had never met the eccentric millionaire Wilton Knight all those long years ago? What if K.I.T.T. had never been developed? How many lives would have been lost in all the years since, if Michael had not been found near death in the Nevada desert? What if..?

"She is a highly regarded doctor in her field. Bonnie, I'm afraid she is the one person who could destroy all we have worked for. She could close down FLAG, and God forbid, if Michael dies we could all be held culpable."

She sat down in the chair vacated by the doctor just moments ago. "How did she get so much information? How did she get Michael's files in the first place? No one has ever had access to them before."

"I know. Somehow she convinced a circuit judge that she needed his complete history."

"They tried. It was either handing over the files or face contempt of court. But, I did manage to give her a condensed version. They pertain only to Michael."

"If I were a betting man, which I am not, I would put everything I own on her. Jennifer KNIGHT would love to ride on the coattails of a woman like Dr. Summerfield. She simply has to feed her information and sit back and watch the sparks fly. Yes my dear, I think she is behind this. But it may be hard to prove."

"That may explain this then." Bonnie walked over to the computer station and typed in a series of commands. "This," she said, as Devon joined her, "is from K.I.T.T.'s surveillance tapes." It showed the Herbert Building, a three- story office building. As the camera panned closer they could see Michael standing in front of an open sliding glass door on the third floor. He appeared to be having a heated discussion with someone.

Bonnie shrugged, "Some kind of interference. Lead probably. Just another piece of the puzzle. But here, look at this." She froze the image and zoomed in on Michael's face. "Look at Michael's expression."

Bonnie zoomed in a little closer. Devon looked at Michael's eyes, his expression. "He looks dazed."

Devon watched as Michael backed out onto the balcony through the opened sliding glass door.. He raised his arms before his face as if to ward off blows and toppled backwards off the balcony.

"Dear God." Devon watched as Bonnie reversed the tape and played it again. "He was forced off."

"He was being attacked by something, either real or imagined. He was defending himself when he went over."

"I want a complete report on Michael's activities before the accident. I want to know why he was at that building in the first place."

"K.I.T.T. and I are going over to the hospital for a while. It helps K.I.T.T. to be close to Michael."

"You go ahead, I'll visit him this evening. I have something I to want to check out first."

He watched Bonnie close the door behind her then picked up the phone. That look in Michael's eyes. He had seen that look before.

Bonnie spent an hour sitting next to Michael's bed as she had every day for the past four weeks. He hadn't moved, hadn't showed any signs of life in all that time. Monitors recorded his heartbeat and pulse, I.V. lines infused his body with fluids. Oxygen flowed through a nasal tube, all designed to keep his body healthy while his consciousness mind hibernated. She squeezed his hand gently. She noticed the untanned band around his wrist where he wore his watch. The nurse had given it to her on the day he was brought in, along with the rest of his personal affects.

"Michael, if you can here me we're all waiting for you. K.I.T.T.'s downstairs in the parking lot. He misses you terribly. We all do. We all want you back with us."

"Some doctors believe that a comatose patient can hear." Bonnie turned around to see Dr. Summerfield walk into the room. " Personally I don't prescribe to that theory."

"Michael's not your patient." Bonnie stood up, she felt the urge to protect Michael form this woman. "He's Dr. Howard's patient."

"I don't need permission Ms. Barstow. I am a credited member of the staff here at St. Andrews. If you want another doctor to take over his case you are welcome to have him transferred to another hospital. But that would probably not be wise considering his condition."

Bonnie fought back her anger. "We'll see about that. But," Bonnie stood an inch away from Dr. Summerfield's face, "if anything happens to Michel while he's under your care..."

"Tread lightly." The doctor warned. "Oh, and by the way Ms. Barstow, considering Mr. Knights condition, I'm considering restricting visiting hours. Good day."

Bonnie hurried back down to the parking lot and dropped into K.I.T.T. "Get Devon." She snapped. "That woman is not going top get away with this."

K.I.T.T. sat in the Foundation's garage. While Bonnie and Devon slept he had been reviewing all the tapes he had of Michael in the weeks leading up to the accident.

Bonnie poked her head in the window, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She hadn't slept well in the past weeks and the strain was showing on her face.

"There's got to be something. I just feel so helpless K.I.T.T. I want to do something for him, but there's nothing I can do."

"I know Bonnie. I feel the same way. And I am becoming quite concerned. There is no reason Michael should not have regained consciousness weeks ago. It's as if..." K.I.T.T. was suddenly silent.

Bonnie looked at the left monitor. She saw Michael walking toward the Herbert Building accidentally bumping into a man who was rushing past him.

"Look at Michael's vital signs at the moment he was bumped." The right monitor flipped on with a graphic of Michael's vital signs. "There is a spike in his heartbeat and respiration I did not notice at first, but it looks as if he experienced a sharp pain at that precise moment.."

She watched as Michael walked up the stairs. He looked slightly off balance. "Was he drugged?" She watched the door close behind him.

"No. I'm still working on cleaning up the sound. Do you want to hear what I have so far?"

"It's not much, only a few words. So far I have been able to clean up Michael's voice only. The person in the room will be more difficult."

Bonnie listened intently to the few words that stood out in the garbled sentence. "You won't get away... they'll know... K.I.T.T.!"

K.I.T.T. remained unusually quite for a long time. "Because," he said at last, "Devon sent him there."

"I don't understand this. He said he didn't know why Michael was there. Why would he lie?"

"K.I.T.T., I want a complete report on what Michael was working on at the time of the accident. Everything. I don't care how small it is. Something isn't right here."

"I don't know anymore K.I.T.T." She said. She felt as if the whole was crashing in on her. She couldn't believe that Devon would do anything to harm Michael. But he had lied.

"We get help. Can you give me a secure phone line, even one that Devon couldn't trace?"

"Not even Devon. Not until we know why he sent Michael to that office building."

It was one O'clock in the afternoon and Dan Chapman was still pouring over a sheath of documents. Another divorce trial. He said, she said. He did, she did. He hated divorce cases but they paid the bills.

He didn't pay attention to the phone ringing until Darlene said, "It's for you. It's Bonnie Barstow."

"Bonnie?" He picked up the receiver, not sure quite what to say. He had formed a solid friendship with Michael Knight but he always felt that Bonnie was not completely sure of him. So why would she be calling and not Michael?

"No." she snapped. "No one from the Foundation can know that we have talked. No one, not even Devon."

"Not over the phone. Meet me in an hour at 417 Hanover Drive room 17. K.I.T.T. made reservations. And Dan, don't let anyone see you."

"I'll be there." Dan replaced the receiver and looked over at Darlene. "Why would she keep Devon out of the loop?"

417 Hanover Drive was a modest motel on the outskirts of town. He looked around the parking lot but didn't see K.I.T.T. He made his way to the forth floor and room 417. After two light taps on the door the lock clicked and Bonnie Barstow stood in the entrance.

"Thank you for coming." She said pulling him into the room. "Did any one see you?"

"Good. I left K.I.T.T. and my car at the Foundation and rented a car under a fictitious name."

She closed the door. "To tell you the truth Dan, I'm not sure myself." She sat down on one of the guest chairs facing the twin- sized bed. The room had seen better days. The carpeting was threadbare, the wallpaper was stripped to bare walls in some places. Not the type of place he expected to see Bonnie Barstow. He sat down on the corner of the bed and waited.

"I don't know." She shook her head, lost. She was so close to breaking down. She fought back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "That's why I called you."

Dan found a glass in the bathroom, cleaned it and filled it with water. "Here," he said gently. He waited for her to regain her composure.

Bonnie took a deep breath. "That's hard to say exactly." She remembered back to the conversation they had had nearly four weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since.

She was sitting at the computer console in the Foundation's garage. She had just completed an upgrade to K.I.T.T's systems when Devon walked in. He seemed, in retrospect, to be quite nervous. Michael followed within a minute and they had a heated discussion by the door. She tried to hear what they were saying but they spoke in whispers. Michael stormed off and Devon left a moment later.

"They have their disagreements. They're both stubborn and bullheaded." She shook her head. "But this was different."

"Nothing really. Michael came back a couple hours later to get K.I.T.T. He said Devon had given him another shity assignment, his words not mine, and he took off."

"That was the last time I saw him." The tears welled up again. "That was the last time I saw him conscious."

Bonnie hefted a metal suitcase onto the bed and opened it, revealing a video cassette player with a small monitor attached. "This is what K.I.T.T. saw that day." She said inserting a tape.

Dan watched Michael walk toward the office building, accidentally bumped by a man crossing his path. Unfazed he walked up the stairs and disappeared into the lobby

"Look how he's waking now." She pointed to the screen as Michael appeared to sway as he walked up the stairs. "See? Look how unsteady he looks."

The next part of the tape showed Michael standing in front of an open sliding glass door leading onto the small balcony. He seemed to be in a heated argument with someone in the room. Suddenly he raised his hands as if he were warding off a blow and backed out the door. He continued backing up, warding off invisible blows until he was backed up against the balcony railing.

Silence filled the room. Bonnie slowly ejected the tape and closed the suitcase.

"He's been in a coma ever since." She said. "His doctor, Dr. Howard, could not explain the coma. He found no obvious head trauma. Except for a mild concussion, broken leg and sprained wrist he seemed to have survived the fall without major injuries. What the video doesn't show is the ornamental cherry trees that line the perimeter of the building. They broke his fall."

"Dan, Devon says he doesn't know why Michael went to the Herbert building, but I have a recording of him giving Michael instructions to go there. K.I.T.T. authenticated his voice."

"Yes. K.I.T.T. doesn't make mistakes when it comes to things like this. And now," Bonnie took a deep breath, "his doctor, Dr. Howard, has been called away unexpectedly."

"Dr. Summerfield. I wouldn't trust her to treat a hangnail. There's something about her. It's wrong. It's all wrong."

"No one seems to know where he is. Dan, Dr. Summerfield seems to be on a personal crusade to destroy Devon and the Foundation through Michael. Devon is lost. He's beginning to believe all her wild theories. But as sorry as I feel for him I can't get past the lie. I can't trust him. Dan, I need your help. I don't know where else to turn. Michael trusted you. He said if I ever needed someone and he wasn't around," She reached out and touched his knee, "I should call you."

He grabbed her trembling hands. "Michael was right. I will do anything I can for you."

Bonnie's tears began to flow freely now. She at last had someone she could trust again.

He gently pulled her over to the edge of the bed and cradled her against his shoulder. He held her for a long time letting her cry it out.

Bonnie nodded, wiping away the tears. "I have a shake down scheduled for K.IT.T tomorrow at three O'clock. I was going to cancel it, considering all that was going on."

Dan smiled. "Keep it." He said, squeezing her hands. "We'll get to the bottom of this I promise."

Devon leaned back in the visitor's chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. A fierce headache was broiling. He watched Michael sleeping, studied the monitors that kept track of his vital signs. He had seen the same type monitors six years ago. Memories flooded his mind and he closed his eyes.

Devon had been with Wilton Knight when he heard the devastating news. Michael Long had been shot. Wilton had been following him for months. He had to be certain the man he was picking to helm the most sophisticated computerized car in the world was the right man. And the findings were in. Long appeared to be the man he was looking for. A background in law enforcement and military training, who was not afraid to make decisions on his own. It was decided he would approach Long very soon, offer him an opportunity of a lifetime. But all that was changed by a single gunshot to the face.

Wilton's men had been instructed to observe but not hinder Michael's activates. Observe only. Wilton wanted to know what Michael was made of, how he would react in every situation. So they had no idea that Tanya Walker was working on her own agenda when she jumped into Michael's Trans Am chasing Wilson into the desert. By the time they reached Michael he was laying face down in the sand, the headlights of his car shining in the pool of blood seeping into the sand around his head.

Wilton had left immediately in a helicopter with a team of doctors and returned two hours later. Devon watched as they wheeled Michael into surgery, bloody bandages covering his obliterated face. He watched Wilton standing by his side day after day, his own health deteriorating. There was not much time left and Michael was Wilton's last hope of seeing FLAG to fruition before he died.

And now again, Devon waited. He reached out and took Michael's hand in his. It felt so frail. So much like the hand he had held six years ago. It had taken three weeks back then for Michael to regain consciousness from the gunshot injury, and another four weeks before the bandages were removed. Was that the time that Wilton made his decision? The original plans did not call for reconstructive surgery, but when Michael's injuries required it, was that the time Wilton decided to make him over in his own image? Was it an unconsciousness act on his part to bring back Garth, the son who had betrayed him? Or was it, as he had said, a way to keep Michael safe from enemies who would stop short at nothing to kill him?

He would probably never know the answer. Wilton was dead. Michael had accepted his new identity and flourished far beyond anything Wilton could have ever envisioned. K.I.T.T. had grown in leaps and bounds, rising from a mere computer to a sentient being. Michael was now a part of a unique family that transcended anything Wilton could have ever envisioned in a lifetime.

He leaned down close to Michael's ear and whispered, "Keep fighting my boy, keep fighting."

Devon stood up slowly, turning toward the voice. "Dr. Summerfield." He said coldly.

"Mr. Miles. Feeling a little guilty? It was you, after all, who ultimately put him here. If he were still Michael Long he would probably be home with his wife and family right now."

"If, Dr. Summerfield, we had never met Michael he would have been dead a long time ago. He was near death when we found him. So all your rhetoric about what his life would have been like if we hadn't.."

"You could have saved his life," Summerfield interrupted, "used your state of the art plastic surgery to rebuild his face as it was before the bullet tore it apart. But, you and Wilton Knight were afraid. Afraid if he was given a chance to return to a normal life he would take it. Instead you robbed him of everything. His face. His name. You even destroyed any chance for him to return home. Ultimately he became a prisoner to your crusade. You played God Mr. Miles."

"Could he? Where could he go? Back home? That didn't exist for him anymore. His family had already buried Michael Long. How could he start over? He was suddenly a man without a past. Who would hire him? The best thing he could hope for was flipping burgers at some bar and grill."

Devon took a menacing step closer to Summerfield. "You are treading on dangerous ground doctor." He warned. "You may think you know everything there is to know about Michael Knight, but you know nothing." He glanced back at Michael. "I don't know how you got Dr. Howard off Michael's case but I will find out. And, if anything happens to him while he is under your care..."

Summerfield sneered, "You and Ms. Barstow comparing notes? She said the same thing."

Devon returned to the Foundation, crushed. He lowered the lights and lit the fireplace.
He sat down in an overstuffed chair and did something he rarely did, he poured himself a tall glass of Scotch. Was Dr. Summerfield right? Had they played God with Michael's life? Wilton was so anxious to see his dream fulfilled, so afraid that he would die before it became a reality, that he forged ahead. Not thinking of the consequences. Not taking time to wonder what it would do to Michael. As much as he hated to admit it Dr. Summerfield was right about one thing. They could have easily restructured Michael's face to look as it did before the bullet obliterated it. Was she right? Would they have lost him if he could have gone back to his old life, back to his home and family? They would never know now. The Roads Not Taken, he thought bitterly. But was it the right one?

In his lifetime he had experienced both the good and the bad. He had survived the bad and relished the good. But he had always done it alone. Even when Wilton Knight was alive he had kept his distance. Both men had been through too much to let their guard down, and when Wilton had died, although he had mourned his passing, Devon had regrouped and carried on. But Michael Knight, alias Michael Long, had dropped into his life and all the equations had changed. Wilton Knight, on his deathbed had charged him with the responsibility of overseeing Michael's transition from Michael Long, Las Vegas cop to Michael Knight agent for FLAG. He accepted the responsibility reluctantly at first. Michael Long was a head strong young man, and they had butted heads on more than one occasion. But without Devon even being aware of it, Michael Knight had somehow slipped past his emotional guard, had become the true friend his soul longed for. More than a friend, he was the son he wished he had had. And now he laid in a coma.

Bonnie walked into Devon's office. Surprised to find the lights turned down and the fireplace roaring, sending shadows dancing across the office walls.

Bonnie nodded and poured a small glass of Scotch then pulled a chair closer to him. "Are you alright? This isn't like you."

He looked at her. There was a sadness in his face that she had never seen before.

"I just came from the hospital. Seeing Michael lying there... Bonnie," he looked into the fire, "could Dr. Summerfield be right? Did we play God with Michael's life? Did we make him a prisoner of a destiny that was not his own?"

Bonnie didn't know what to say, how to console him. Six years ago, when K.I.T.T was finally ready, when all that was needed was a driver, she had balked at the choice of Michael Long. He was arrogant, opinionated and headstrong. He treated K.I.T.T. without respect and the rest of the team with indifference. He was angry, and rightfully so. But his hatred for Tanya Walker had kept him going. When he had promised Wilton on his deathbed that he would carry on his legacy he did so not knowing if he could keep that promise. And after Tanya was dead, when there was nothing left to keep him there, he stayed. Wilton's dream of one man making a difference was too important to walk away from. Thinking back on those early days she could never have known that she would grow to love him. That he would become the most important person in her life.

"Devon," She leaned forward taking his hand in hers. "Michael stayed because he wanted to. Nothing you or I or even Wilton Knight could say would have made him stay if he didn't want to. He may have been thrown into this life without his consent but he made it his. Michael Long doesn't exist anymore. He died out there in the desert, one way or the other. If Michael had the ability to go back in time and change that moment do you think he would? Would he give up everything he has here for an uncertain future as Michael Long?"

Devon turned toward her, his eyes filled with tears. "I love him like a son Bonnie. The thought of not having him here with us is unthinkable."

Early the next morning Bonnie was back in Michael's room, sitting and thinking.
"Michael, I wish you could hear me." She said softly, " I'm so confused. I can't believe Devon is involved in this. Not after last night. He is falling apart in front of my eyes and I don't know what to do. I wish you could tell me what you were doing at the Herbert Building. Who you met. Michael, the answers are right here," she said, leaning over him and gently kissing his forehead, "locked away. Please come back to us. I need you so badly." She sat back down. Even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her it still helped to talk to him. "I talked to a friend of yours yesterday. Dan Chapman. He's going to help us. You always said if I needed someone.. Damn it Michael, this isn't fair. You're the strong one. I need you. K.I.T.T. needs you." She wiped at the tears that ran down her cheek, "I better go. I'm meeting Dan this afternoon. But I'll be back tomorrow."

It was three ten in the afternoon and Dan waited on the turn out lane off Route 16. He heard the whine of K.I.T.T.'s turbine engine before he saw the sleek black car emerge out of a hairpin turn.

"It's good to see you again Dan." K.I.T.T said as Dan slipped into the plush bucket seat.

"It's good to see you too." Dan was always amazed when he saw K.I.T.T's interior. He could never learn all the buttons and switches in a lifetime.

The car pulled back onto the road and Bonnie took her hands off the wheel. "Thank you for coming."

"Not as of this morning. Dan, I spoke to Devon last night. I don't believe he sent Michael to the Herbert Building."

"I don't know. It's just that, you didn't see him last night. The man is devastated. Dr. Summerfield has him convinced that this is all his fault."

"She has threatened to press charges against him if Michael dies. She claims Devon and Wilton Knight robbed him of his identity when they resurrected him as Michael Knight."

"I don't think anyone could press criminal charges against him or Wilton Knight, but they did destroy a life."

Dan nodded, "Maybe, but... Look, I don't know what happened six years ago. I only know Michael as Michael Knight. But when he told me that story while Carter held us captive, I couldn't believe it. But you know what? He said if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn't change a thing. He's happy being Michael Knight now. And nothing Dr. Summerfield says..."

Bonnie looked at the voice box, the somber mood broken, a smile tugged at her lips. "Yes K.I.T.T.?"

"This is the only picture I could find of Dr. Summerfield. It was taken during her junior year at Yale. This," a second picture appeared on the right monitor, "of course is the Dr. Summerfield we know."

"Either she's aged more gracefully than any woman I've ever known or we're dealing with an imposter." Dan said.

"I calculated what the real Dr. Summerfield might look like now, twenty years later. Also taking into consideration the current hairstyles and makeup I came up with this composite of what I think Brenda Summerfield would look like today."

"Very nice K.I.T.T." Bonnie compared the two pictures. The real Dr. Summerfield was at least ten years older than the one they knew. "How did she get away with it? Didn't the hospital do a through background check before hiring her?"

"I'm sure they did Bonnie," K.I.T.T. replaced the old Summerfield picture with a job resume.

Dan whistled. "Our Dr. Summerfield, or who ever is backing her did one hell of a job. Look at this. Social Security number, Medical License number, everything is perfect. They even changed her graduation dates to correspond to her age. The hospital would have no reason to question her credentials."

"I checked the employee records at Holden Medical Center where she was on staff as a physiologist and general practitioner. She gave her official two-week notice. She had signed up for a humanitarian expedition to Peru with several other doctors."

"I checked the expedition's records. Just before they were ready to go their financing fell through. They never went."

"And now the new Dr. Summerfield shows up at St. Andrews. We've got to get Michael out of there." Dan said.

Dan stopped at the nurse's station, flashed his credentials and asked for Michael's chart. He glanced through it as if it made sense and returned it to the nurse. She directed him to Michael's room and now he stood looking down at him. His right leg was immobilized in a plaster cast and an ace bandage was wrapped tightly around his left wrist. If not for the tubes and wires festooning his body he looked like he was simply sleeping. .

He took Michael's limp hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "We're going to get you out of here." He promised. He drew his comlink, the one Bonnie had given him the last time he and Michael were together and placed it around Michael's wrist.

"Thank You." There was deep emotion in K.I.T.T's voice. Dan would never understand how a computer could feel as K.I.T.T did, but there was no denying that it existed.

"Dan!" K.I.T.T's voice sounded stunned. "I am picking up flocculation's in Michael's heartbeat, blood pressure. He is reacting to outside stimuli. Dan, he can hear what you are saying."

"What? Are you sure?" Dan looked up at the monitors above Michael's bed. They remained steady. "Are the monitors rigged?"

"He felt that! Dan, I don't understand why but Michael is aware. He is not in a coma. Michael, Michael can you hear me? He reacted Dan. The doctor's diagnoses..."

"One doctor's diagnoses at least. Dr. Summerfield. That's why they had to get rid of Burton."

"Nothing at the moment. I can't get Michael out of here on my own. Get Bonnie, tell her to meet me where we met yesterday in one hour. We'll take it from there."

He removed the watch from Michael's wrist. "We're going to get you out of her, I promise." He whispered into Michael's ear.

He looked around the room, he had already stayed longer than he had planned, but first he needed a sample of the I.V. fluid that was trickling into Michael's veins. He quickly took a syringe out of his pocket and extracted a small amount of the liquid.

He patted Michael on the shoulder. " I'll be back. You just hang in there a little longer."

Michael heard the door whoosh closed and he was left alone in the silent blackness. It had been like that for what seemed like an eternity. He was being held prisoner in a body that would not respond. When he first awoke he thought he was having a nightmare. He couldn't move, he couldn't even open his eyes. He cried out for someone to help him but no words came from his mouth. Then sleep overtook him. The second time he awoke to garbled voices. He still couldn't move. He strained to move, an arm, a leg, an eyelid, anything. It was as if he were living inside a dead body. But he could feel. It was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing when Bonnie would sit next to him, talking softly, holding his hand, and stroking his face. He lived for those moments. And Devon, he too sat beside him, holding his hand, urging him to keep fighting. He cried soundlessly when they left leaving him alone in the blackness again. And he dreaded the endless visits by the nurses and doctors. How could they not know that he was consciousness? He had to endure the indignities of being bathed daily like an infant. They shaved his face, combed his hair, laughed and giggled as they redressed him in a fresh gown.

He wasn't sure how long it was before his mind cleared enough for him to remember what had happened. He went over the moments of that day again and again. It was early afternoon, he remembered looking at his watch, The Knicks game was televised that night. He seldom had time anymore to watch a basketball game but that night he was free. He would sit on his sofa, grab a beer and tune out the world for four hours. But it wasn't to be. Devon called. He was to meet John Haskell in suite 3D at the Herbert Building. It would only take a few minutes, Devon promised. Haskell had some important documents that Devon wanted hand carried back to the Foundation. He remembered patting K.I.T.T.'s roof and telling him to "Hang Loose." It was the last time he saw K.I.T.T. On his way to the stairs he bumped into a man rushing for a bus parked at the corner. Something stung his hand but he ignored it. He just wanted to get home to that Knicks game. Thinking back now, he realized that something was wrong from the moment he felt the pinprick. The world seemed to suddenly move in slow motion. He thought about returning to the car but decided against it. He was only here to pick up a document. It would only take him a couple of minutes. His body felt heavy as he walked up the stairs leading to the foyer.

He took the elevator to the third floor and found Suite D toward the end of the hall. It was a small, but well furnished office. But it had an empty feel to it. The desktop in the far corner was empty. The bookshelves behind it equally bare. He noticed the sliding glass door leading to a small balcony stood open.

A woman in her thirties, wearing a dark business jacket and skirt appeared from a private office.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." She said. She carried a large manila envelope.

Michael nodded. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He was beginning to feel dizzy. "No problem. Is that the document?"

"It is." She began to tear the envelope open. He thought it seemed odd. Suddenly he felt lightheaded and the room swayed. He nearly lost his balance.

"Yea." He looked around. The walls suddenly wavered. He looked back at the woman. She was tearing the envelope open. Something black inside began to move in her hands. He watched in fascination as the black form took shape. It was a black Falcon, its beak long and sharp, it's talons digging into her hand. He saw blood dripping from her fingers. He took a step backwards.

"You'll never get away with it." He said, trying to gather his wits, but it was hard to think.

"They'll know." He warned. He could barely stand up. The office walls closed in on him. He took another step toward the open door.

The bird flapped it's wings once in warning then flew at him. It's sharp beak gouged at his hands as he tried to ward it off. Again and again it attacked, trying to peck at his eyes. It's talons dug into his arms. He kept backing up and the bird kept attacking. He felt blood dripping down his hands and arms.

He was driven backwards. He backed into the wrought iron railing. He had nowhere to go. The bird kept attacking, pecking at his hands, his face. He leaned backwards, and the bird swooped down ripping at his chest. He remembered the moment of shock when he realized he was falling. He never felt himself hit the ground. But the consequences were undeniable. He agonized at the thought that this was a permanent condition.

He yearned for a familiar voice, something to invade the blackness. He knew it was nighttime. He could tell by the sounds outside his room. The door opened and closed.

"Did you have a nice reunion with your friend?" It was Dr. Summerfield. Her voice sounded different, cruel. He knew that voice. He had head it before.

"If you think they can save you you're a fool." It was her, the woman he met at Haskell's office. "Your death will bring about an end to FLAG forever. Devon Miles and all your friends will rot in jail for the rest of their lives."

Someone touched his foot. There was someone else in the room. He smelled perfume. A scent he had smelled before.

"At last," a voice purred in his ear, "I have found Devon Miles' Achilles Heel. You."

"The Foundation will crumble like a house of cards. All because I found Devon's weak spot. How appropriate that you, Michael Knight, should be the means to the demise of FLAG."

He felt Jennifer combed her fingers through his hair. "Your nightmare is about to end Michael. Brenda, explain to him exactly what he has to look forward to."

He felt someone lift his wrist and a burning sensation coursed through his hand.

"I have just injected a rare drug into your I.V. that will ultimately cause cardiac arrest. In a few hours you will begin to feel your heart beating slower. It will become more difficult for you to breath. By this time tomorrow your heart will simply give out."

"Poof.." Jennifer snapped her finger next to his ear. "Your are out of my life forever. And so will Devon and FLAG. And K.I.T.T.?" She laughed cruelly, "K.I.T.T. will be dismantled, piece by piece."

" It's ironic isn't it, that your last weeks on this earth were spent exactly the same way Garth's has for the past three years? He's been in a coma you know. He can't hear or feel as you have, but when Brenda said she could add a little extra pizzazz to your last days I couldn't resist it. "

Michael listened. The intensity of what she was saying left him stunned. In the blackness that surrounded him he felt more alone than he had ever been before in his life. He couldn't believe that Jennifer was using him to destroy the Foundation.

He heard the two women walk toward the door. "And by the way, Summerfield assured him, "don't worry about the doctor's discovering the drug. It is colorless, odorless and would never be found unless they were looking for it. And they would have no reason to. I surely won't tell them."

The door opened and closed and he was again left in the lonely darkness listening to the beat of his heart.

"What is it? Bonnie asked taking the syringe and placing it in the analyzing tray.

"It's from Michael's I.V.. I want to know exactly what's in it. Bonnie, I asked K.I.T.T. not to mention this until I could tell you myself."

"This may explain it." K.I.T.T. said, "Besides the normal saline and nutrients you would expect to find, there is also a large amount of a drug used to simulate paralysis."

"My God. You mean he's been lying there all this time consciousness of everything?"

"Yes. It is an obscure drug derived from the stamen of a rare plant. It is a banned substance here in the United States."

"I'm sure they did Bonnie. But it is not something that would show up in a regular blood test. They were not looking for it, so they never found it."

"Think of it Bonnie." Dan began. "What has happened? You and K.I.T.T. have focused every waking moment on Michael. You think of nothing else. Devon is on the verge of a mental breakdown because he has been convinced he is responsible. It's brilliant. Whoever devised this plan figured a way to destroy the Foundation from the inside out."

"Jennifer Knight." She said coldly. "It has to be her. Dr. Summerfield knew too much about the inner workings of the Foundation. But I never thought.. Dan," She grabbed his hand, "we've got to get Michael out of there, now."

"No. We have to get him now." Her mind reeled at the thought of him lying there all this time, consciousness.

"Bonnie, listen to me. We can't just rush in there and carry him out. We have to have a plan. Do you trust me?"

She laid her head back against the seat, "Yes." She suddenly sat up, "I have to tell Devon, he is..."

"We will, but not yet. Let's not tip our hand. If Jennifer Knight is behind this she may be watching him like a hawk." He squeezed her hand gently. "But first I have to see a doctor."

He climbed out of K.I.T.T. and patted the roof. "This will all be over soon." He said to both of them. "I promise."

The hours seemed to drag by for Bonnie. She couldn't go to the hospital. If someone were watching they would see a change in her pattern and become suspicious. And she couldn't face Devon. She couldn't stand to see the pain in his eyes and not tell him the truth. Finally Dan called. They would meet in the usual place off Route 16.

When Dan said he had a doctor friend who could help them Bonnie did not expect to see Jonas Belmont, Professor of Medical Sciences at Berkeley. He was short and heavyset with thinning red hair and green eyes that were magnified by thick horn rimmed glasses.

"Amazing," he said as he looked at Michael's medical records. "Your friend has been under this drug for how long?"

Jonas shook his head. "Too long. Much too long. You were right to consult me first."

He sat in K.I.T.T.'s passenger seat studying the monitor as K.I.T.T. scrolled through the file. After the initial shock of being in a computerized talking car Jonas Belmont had proceeded with the matter at hand: getting Michael Knight to safety.

K.I.T.T. had hacked into the database at the hospital and downloaded everything pertaining to Michael.

"Will he be alright?" Bonnie asked hesitatingly, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer..

"I can't answer that Ms. Barstow. I don't know the effects of prolonged exposure to this drug. But we must get him off it as soon as possible. You must understand however... There may be complications. Severe ones. He must be monitored carefully."

"Dr. Belmont," K.I.T.T. said, "I'm afraid any hospital you take Michael to will be duty bound to contact Dr. Summerfield. The moment she knows you are involved she will have you removed from his case immediately."

"It doesn't matter. I will expose her as the charlatan she is." He said defensively.

"Those kind of allegations take time to prove." Dan agreed. "K.I.T.T. is right. "We'd be playing right back into her hands."

It was three A.M. and they sat in Devon's office. Devon had never felt as much anger against another human being as he felt against Jennifer Knight at this very moment. What she had put Michael threw was beyond cruel. It was sadistic. All those times he had sat by Michael's side, never realizing he could hear every word he said.

He listened as Dan explained his Trojan Horse plan. He looked toward Dr. Belmont. "The Foundation's clinic is at your disposal doctor. I will have an unmarked semi here within the half hour. Anything else you need, please just let anyone of us here know. I can't thank you enough for.."

Jonas raised his hand. "No need to thank me Mr. Miles. I took the Hippocratic Oath many years ago. I believed in it then, I still believe in it today. Dr. Summerfield and people like her are a blithe on our society."

"I had Darlene call in a few favors. She found an empty warehouse thirty miles outside of town. There is no way Jennifer could trace us there. K.I.T.T. has already downloaded Michael's transfer papers to the hospital. Now it's up to us to get him out while you keep Dr. Summerfield busy."

"I have no doubt." Devon said bitterly. "She will be more than happy to see me grovel."

"Very well then." Dr. Belmont stood up, it had been a long night and it promised to be an even longer day. "If someone could find me a bite to eat then direct me to your clinic, I will begin preparations."

"Bonnie, have the cook prepare something for Dr. Belmont then escort him to the clinic."

It was six-thirty A.M. An unmarked semi truck pulled onto the Foundation grounds and headed for the clinic. Just as a precaution against prying eyes the back door swung open reveling a load of wall paneling for the partial renovation of the second floor.

Once behind closed doors the paneling was removed and Dr. Belmont personally oversaw the transition of the empty semi to a fully functioning mobile clinic.

Fifteen minutes later the Foundation's black semi left the grounds followed surreptitiously by two of Jennifer's men. Another fifteen minutes after that the semi, once hauling the paneling and now a lifeline for Michael, pulled out of the clinic and headed for the transfer point.

Bonnie and Dan, dressed as paramedics, rolled a stretcher down the hallway heading for Michael's room. Dr. Belmont followed close behind.

Jennifer looked down at Michael. She couldn't deny herself the one last chance to see the man she despised almost as much as her father suffer the agony of being trapped in a lifeless body, with a mind as lucid as her own. Was he going mad? A chill went down her spine at the thought of him laying there, hour after hour, week after week hearing everything that went on around him. Listening to the endless prater from his friends and so called loved ones. Pathetic ramblings that meant nothing. All the while screaming silently for them to listen.

A cruel smile played at lips as she leaned down close to his ear. "How does it feel Michael to know that I am only one of two people on this earth that knows the truth?"

She traced his motionless lips with her finger. "You look so much like him." She whispered. "So much like him. And now, you will die like him. Garth will.."

Jennifer snapped her head around at the sound of the door opening. Bradford poked his head in the door motioning for her.

Michael heard Jennifer walk away. Where were they? Where were Bonnie and Dan? They knew he was consciousness. He had hard K.I.T.T. and Dan.. No....! It had just been another dream. The realization was like a crushing blow. They didn't know. He was going to die. Jennifer was going to win. The bitch was going to destroy them all. He had heard the pain in Devon's voice, knew he was close to collapsing, and he heard the loss in Bonnie's voice as she sat hour after our talking to him, never knowing that his mind was caressing her every word. The pain in his chest was nothing in comparison to the pain in his mind as he thought about dieing here in the blackness alone.

Bradford pointed down the hall at the nurses desk. Jennifer blanched when she saw Bonnie and Dan wheeling a stretcher toward the room.

"Stop them," she hissed. "Any way you can!" She slipped out the door and disappeared into the elevator as it closed.

Bradford looked around the hallway desperately. Nothing. He shoved every door open, looking in every room. He noticed a wheelchair sitting at the end of the hall. He grabbed it and a sheet from a shelf of linens and dropped into the chair. He barreled down the hallway straight into the stretcher Bonnie and Dan were pushing. He knew the minute his kneecap hit the iron frame that he had blown his knee so as he withered in pain on the floor, the wheelchair and stretcher laying on top of him he didn't have to act at all. But he had accomplished his goal.

Jennifer grabbed the nearest phone on the second floor and dialed Summerfield's number taping her fingernail impatiently as the phone rang unanswered.

Bonnie and Dan stepped aside as doctors and nurses tended to the injured man. They were losing precious time.

They righted the stretcher and headed for Michael's room. Jonas passed by the commotion and ducked into Michel's room.

Michael hadn't realized he'd fallen sleep and he wasn't sure if it was really Bonnie's voice or just another dream. The last thing he had heard was Jennifer's voice. One of the worst parts of this black prison was not knowing if he was really awake or just dreaming. The two intermingled so often he was never sure.

"Michael, we know you can hear us." He felt her strap the comlink on his right wrist. "We're here to get you out."

Jonas looked at the readings on the monitor. "There's no time now. Look at those readings. His heart and respirations are dangerously low."

"What does that mean?" Dan stood next to Michael, squeezing his hand. If he could hear he would be terrified.

"It means.." Jonas unhooked the I.V. line from the catchier in the back of Michael's hand. "If we don't stop the drug now he will go into cardiac arrest."

Bonnie looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear. She felt as if she was losing him right now, at this very moment.

Jonas grabbed her hand. "We have two hours before the withdrawal symptoms begin. You have to be strong. He's going to need you."

She nodded. She wasn't sure where that strength was going to come from. She stiffened when she felt Dan's arm around her waist. "You can do this." He whispered. "You can do this. I'll be right by your side. So will K.I.T.T."

Michael listened to the words. His head throbbed from the beat of his heart, each beat becoming more painful, his lungs screamed for air as he throat restricted.

"Just hang in there a little longer." He heard Dan whisper close to his ear. It wasn't a dream, but was it too late...?

Summerfield finally answered the phone. She was a quarter mile from Knight's Estate. She had been rehearsing what she was going to say to Devon Miles as he laid his soul out for her to pluck. Jennifer was right. It was so easy. To think one man, Michel Knight, could be the catalyst to bring down an entire empire like The Foundation.

"Where the hell are you?" It was Jennifer Knight her voice nearly sounded hysterical.

"I'm at the Foundation. Miles wants to talk. I think he's ready to talk about.."

"You fool! It's a trick. Barstow and Chapman are here at the hospital with some lunatic of a doctor. He's trying to get Michel transferred."

"I didn't sign any damn transfer papers." She spun the wheel and her car sped away in the opposite direction, back to the hospital. "Stall them." She ordered. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Devon looked at the clock on his desk. It was five minutes after eight and Dr. Summerfield was still not there.

"Damn!" He grabbed the phone. "Get me K.I.T.T. immediately." He barked. If Summerfield got to the hospital in time to stop the transfer...

"This is highly irregular." Michael heard one of the nurses protest outside his room. "Dr. Summerfield never said.."

"You have the release papers right in your hand." Jonas stood inches away from the nurses station, fuming. They were wasting precious time.

Michael felt Bonnie take his hand. It felt far away, as if it didn't really belong to him.

"This is unconscionable. Read the papers Madam. Mr. Knight has been transferred into my care. Dr. Summerfield's signature is there is it not?"

K.I.TT.'s voice whispered from Dan's comlink. "Dr. Summerfield just pulled into the parking lot."

"I will not stand here and argue with you." Belmont roared. "If Dr. Summerfield has any questions she can contact me at Sullivan Memorial."

"Read the paperwork Madam. Dr. Belmont. Dr. Jonas T. Belmont. And I am not accustomed to being.."

"Doc," Dan pretended to hand Jonas a chart to sign.. "Summerfield is here." He hissed.

Jonas took a deep breath, "Very well madam," he conceded, "we will clear this with Dr. Summerfield first. Never have I been treated so poorly ." He turned to Dan and Bonnie. "Take him back to his room until we have this matter resolved."

Dr. Summerfield marched in, her face frozen in anger. "What the hell's going on here?" She demanded.

The nurse looked from Jonas to Summerfield. "Dr. Belmont said Mr. Knight was transferred into his care."

"Call security." She ordered, her voice cold as ice. "I want this man taken into custody."

"Code Blue! Room three thirty three." The overhead intercom system suddenly came to life startling everyone. "Code Blue!" K.I.T.T's voice echoed through the hospital.

The nurse ignored her. The hall filled with personal responding to room three thirty three.

Summerfield reached for the phone. Dan was on top of her, snatching the phone away.

"If you want to live to see another day you'll do everything I say.." He warned.

"I wouldn't count on it." He looked over his shoulder at Jonas. "Let's go." He snapped. "That means you too." He snarled grabbing her arm and pushing her toward the door.

Michael felt the stretcher move again. He heard a door open and felt a cool breeze hit his face as he was pushed outside.

"Let's get a move on!" Dan shouted, shoving Summerfield into the passenger seat and jumping into the drivers seat. "Every cop in the state will be after us."

The ambulance pulled away from the curb, siren screaming, and headed out of the parking lot. K.I.T.T. pulled in behind.

Bonnie looked down at Michael, she hadn't realized how pale his face was in the artificial light of the hospital room. Jonas started another I.V.

Michael felt the ambulance swerve as they took a turn too fast. He heard the siren, the sounds of traffic all around. They hit a bump and he heard everything inside the ambulance shake. It was getting harder to breath. He lungs were starved for air. He wasn't sure when the blackness turned to nothingness.

Dan pulled a hard right nearly toppling the top-heavy ambulance. K.I.T.T. spun into the turn braking to a dead stop blocking the road. Four police cars nearly collided with each other trying to stop before plowing into the black Trans Am.

Dan killed the sirens and lights and took two more lefts before pulling in behind an unmarked semi. The back doors opened and Devon stood waiting.

"It took much too long." Jonas muttered as he helped lift the stretcher into the semi.

"By now," Devon said, "Michael is in safe hands. Your little scheme has failed. With Michael's testimony you and Jennifer will rot in jail. Ironic, isn't it? That is what you had in mind for me."

"You lose anyway." Summerfield smirked. "Knight still dies. Unless we make a deal."

"They can't help him, you know." She said smugly. "He's going to die anyway. By tonight he'll just be a fond memory."

"We deal first, then I tell you." She sat back in her chair calmly. She held all the cards.

Dr. Summerfield laughed. "You don't have that luxury. If you don't play my game your precious Michael dies, before the day is over."

"A ticket to Switzerland and a hundred thousand dollars, just to get me started. And an escort to the airport."

"Maybe." She glanced at the phone on Devon's desk. "Can you reach your friends? Ask them to check Knight's heart rate."

Bonnie leaned over the stretcher trying to keep her balance in the moving ambulance. "We're almost there." She assured Michael. "It's almost over."

Michael felt the ambulance make another turn. Why hadn't they removed the I.V.? Maybe they had. Maybe this was permanent. But it really didn't make much difference. If Jennifer was right he would be dead before the day was over.

"Somewhat." Jonas said, quickly taking Michael's blood pressure again. "But I attributed it to the drug."

"Summerfield gave him something to cause cardiac arrest. She's demanded a hundred thousand dollars and a ticket to Switzerland."

Two days later Michael felt the first tingling of sensation in his toes. It was almost painful. And, although they were still heavy he managed to open his eyes just enough to see his friends standing around him.

"Give it time." Dr. Belmont said gently, "you have been under the drug for a long time."

Michael slowly made his way into the Foundation's garage, his full leg cast making it difficult to walk. It had taken more than a week to get the drugs out of his system and still he felt weak. It would take time for his muscles to regain their strength.

"I just wanted to say hi." He dropped into a chair, his leg stretched out in front of him.

"Did the doctors give you permission to be here?" K.I.T.T. waited for an answer. "I thought not. You are only delaying your recovery by defying the doctors orders."

"I had to get out of that place. I appreciate everyone's concern, but they're driving me crazy."

"But it's over now." Devon said from behind them. He walked in with Bonnie at his side. "Your doctor is very angry that you slipped out. I promised him that I would bring you back immediately. But I can't very well bring you back if I can't find you."

"Yes, well, I'm sure we're even by now. He took a seat next to Michael. "I thought you would be pleased to know that Dr. Summerfield has been taken into custody."

"True, but she entered the country with a false passport. She's being extradited as we speak.. She is facing charges for attempted murder, kidnapping, impersonating a doctor, the list goes on."

Dan walked in juggling a hand full of take out boxes. "I thought you might be hungry." He grinned.

"It's the best Italian restaurant outside of Verona." Dan grinned setting the boxes on the workbench. "And I brought enough for all. Sit. And.." He pulled a bottle of wine and three wine glasses from a sack hanging around his wrist. "You must have good wine with good Italian food."

"For now she has shifted all the blame on Mary Rivers, alias Dr. Summerfield. But we will get her. One of these days we will get her."

"I'm still unclear about everything that happened." Michael said, patting the cast on his leg. "Everything right before and after the accident is kind of fuzzy."

"Not surprising." Devon explained. "You were injected with a hallucogenic when you bumped into the man running for the bus. One of the paramedics who treated you on the way to the hospital was one of Jennifer's men. The I.V. they started was already laced with the paralyzing drug. The doctors at the hospital had no reason to test for exotic drugs in your system and it would have gone unnoticed if Dan hadn't gotten that sample. Jennifer Knight can be quite ingenious when it comes to finding ways to destroy FLAG. Fortunately for us, she has not succeeded. Yet."

Bonnie was still confused. "Devon, I heard you order Michael to the Herbert Building myself. K.I.T.T. analyzed it. I don't understand.."

"It was my voice Bonnie. It was part of a speech I made a few years ago at the Board Of Governors meeting. The Herbert Building Suite 3D was the address of a perspective contributor, John Haskell. He died three years ago. The rest of the message was from parts of that same speech."

"My dear, you did exactly what you should have done. What I would have done. The only thing that matters now is that Michael is here, safe and sound."

"Don't thank me. It was a blast working with Bonnie and K.I.T.T. again, which reminds me, I have a request. One last ride in K.I.T.T."

Devon and Michael watched as K.I.T.T. backed out of the garage with Dan in the drivers seat and Bonnie sitting next to him.

"He's a good man." Devon said as he watched the black car disappear from sight. "Now, we had better get you back to bed. The doctor will take me to task tomorrow when he finds out that I.."

"Devon, I want to say something first." Michael looked at his friend. "Bonnie told me what Summerfield said."

"Michael," Devon sighed deeply, "she made me take a second look at what Wilton and I did six years ago."

"Devon, I can't say that I never think about what my life would have been like. What would have happened if I was still Michael Long. But believe me, I'm happy here. Who wouldn't be? I've been given this incredible chance to change people's lives, to make a difference. And I have you and Bonnie and K.I.T.T.. I have it all Devon. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Devon," Michael reached out and grabbed Devon's arm, "The Foundation may have been Wilton Knight's idea but we are who we are today because of you."

Devon hoisted Michael up from the chair and supported him as they walked back to the house. No more words were needed. Ironically, each time Jennifer Knight tried to destroy them she in fact made them stronger.