Asimov
by elfin
"I’ve walked this estate over and over. I miss him… so much, it feels that a part of me is missing." Devon nodded slowly. "I keep remembering… times, places, things we said. I remember being here," Michael indicated the estate, "last Christmas, playing in the snow." Tears rolled down his face. "He was so scared, Devon, so frightened of dying."
"He’s not going to die." But even Devon didn’t sound convinced. They’d finished a shell out of the wreckage; only the barest scrapes of Kitt’s computer self remained, and whether or not there was anything there to save was a question only Bonnie and her hurriedly assembled team could answer.
It had taken three years to construct the bare soul of what had over time become Kitt. Two weeks ago they’d come frighteningly close to losing everything, it had shaken them all.
Michael lit yet another cigarette.
"I thought you’d given those disgusting things up."
"I had." In sync, they both looked ahead of them, up at the concrete building that housed the Foundation’s R&D department. A moment later, they looked again. Bonnie was waving madly at them from one of the balconies.
*
Stepping silently into the darkened room, Michael took in the myriad of flashing lights and calibrated neon scales. The VCR-sized computer housing in which Kitt’s ‘soul’ resided was becoming an increasingly familiar sight; they were losing the battle.
Michael sat up on the long, wide bench before stretching himself out on his front, arms folded, head cushioned on his arms facing the front of the computer.
"Kitt?"
"Hi." The lightness was gone from his familiar tone. "Are you okay?"
"I’m fine. Two broken fingers and a few bruises." He reached up, stroked gentle fingers over the sensor on the top of the computer. "How about you?"
"You tell me." There was a sadness which was new to them both.
"The car’s a write-off. They can rebuild it, but…."
"But what?" Tears sprang to Michael’s eyes when he heard the tone.
"I would never, ever leave you. Remember?" Silence. "Remember?"
With a spark of old familiarity, Kitt answered him. "You said ‘but’."
"You remember what we talked about? About… relocating you? Bonnie thinks they’re ready to go ahead." He could almost feel the sudden apprehension. "No pressure, Kitt. It’s up to you, it’ll always be up to you. They can rebuild us a car, better than ever, and we can go on fighting."
"That was Wilton’s dream, Michael."
"I know." Pulling one arm out from under his head, he wrapped it over the computer casing. "We’ve fulfilled Wilton’s dream, Kitt. But you were his pride and joy. He would be so proud of you now. He would want you to live. I want you to live… with me. I want to be with you." More silence. Michael had learned to read the quality of silence long ago. Without body language to read, silence was just another form of communication between the two partners. "There’s no pressure, Kitt, I mean that." He closed his eyes. "How about we get them to rebuild the car, and we save this for another time?"
There was a pause, and then, "No. We both need more now, from one another. And the Foundation needs more from us. If you’re sure, and only if you’re sure…. I don’t want this to change anything between us."
Michael chuckled. "I think it’ll change a lot between us."
"I don’t want you to hate me." But it was an old conversation. Reassurances had been shared over a year ago when Bonnie had first mentioned the possibility. Since then, they’d discussed it several times, but no one had quite been ready to change things so dramatically. But they had almost lost Kitt this time. Maybe, just maybe, they were ready now.
Michael sighed softly, comfortable despite the position and hard wood of the workbench. "I love you, you know that."
"But will you still, when…."
"When what? When I can hold you properly? When I can see you smile? What do you think?"
Registering Michael’s closeness, his warmth, had been enough until now. They owed each other more.
"Time to find our own dream."
Michael smiled. "At least this time we start together."
*
"Slowly, Kitt, take it easy." Bonnie kept sensor input at a bare minimum while her patient woke to his new world. Bright blue eyes darted from side to side, taking in every detail, every colour, every texture, trying to process the information all in one go. When he couldn’t, he panicked, instinctively trying to move. On the bed, the feet lifted up and down; steps taken in air. Monitors began to sound the patient’s anxiety.
Michael stood, hastily putting himself in Kitt’s direct line of sight, hoping he’d be recognized. He was greeted with a slight smile.
"Hey there." He kept a hold of Kitt’s hand while Bonnie slowly brought the input up on all the sensors. Kitt’s new body came alive with feeling and sensation like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
"Just lie still," Bonnie instructed him, "just for a few minutes. It’s all going to be very strange for you."
Very slowly, Kitt relaxed. He sorted out one sensation from another; the sheet that covered him, the cold air across his bare shoulders, the touch of Michael’s hand against his own. With a concerted effort, he found his fingers and wrapped them shakily around that steadying hand. When Michael smiled at him, it was instinct to say hello.
His voice sounded the same, at least to him. He guessed by Michael’s reaction, it sounded the same externally too. ‘The most familiar sound in the whole world to me,’ Michael had once told him.
"You want to sit up?"
Kitt turned his head to smile at Bonnie, and he managed a ‘yes’. She helped him, assisting as he began to learn basic co-ordination of limbs and body. It would take time to get used to having two legs instead of four wheels, to be able to touch, taste and feel. He knew she been there through it all, as she always had been in the past.
Michael sat up on the bed beside him, keeping a reassuring grip on his partner’s hand. While Bonnie checked readings, temperatures, data flows, Kitt blinked a questioning glance up at the man he’d been so close to for over fifteen years.
"How do I look?" he asked nervously.
"Beautiful," came the predictable, but truthful reply.
*
The amber light of a Californian sunset bathed the balcony in its warm glow. Leaning on the stone parapet, Kitt marvelled at the natural spectacle as he had done most evenings since arriving home to the mansion from the treatment wing of the Foundation’s R&D building. Just below him, the golden epoxy of the new car’s paint-work reflected the glow of the end of another day. He was a natural driver, Sam had informed him, having picked up the most advanced aspects in a matter of hours. The few times they’d been out, Michael had let him drive. Kitt imagined he wasn’t the only one with adjustments to make.
"I thought I’d fine you here."
Kitt smiled in contentment as firm arms embraced him. He leaned back, tilting his head as warm lips nuzzled his throat. "I’m late again," he guessed.
"Bonnie’s complaining that it takes you longer to get ready than it does her."
"You always said women were like that."
Michael chuckled into the luxurious blond hair of his partner. "I must have been right then."
Kitt turned, and Michael stepped back, having learnt very early on that what his partner needed most of all was space and time to adjust. Yet his concern, his love and his devotion had never wavered.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes." He glanced down at the car parked peacefully at the side of the gravelled driveway. "Did the sight of me ever make you feel… reassured?"
Michael smiled, and gathered his friend, partner and lover into his arms. "Ever single time I saw you."
*
Devon and Bonnie were waiting for them, and as they neared, the limo pulled up outside. Closing the heavy front door on his way out, Michael glanced at the new car as they walked passed, and for a moment, he stopped. Habit made him reach out to touch the warm skin of the alloy that had protected them for so long. As he did, he felt Kitt touch his hand, and he looked up.
"I’m here, now. You’re not alone any more."
Lounging in the back of the Limo, with Bonnie looking like a proud new mother and Devon already popping the champagne cork, Michael knew Kitt was right – the times of being alone were passed. He had a family now. And always.
fin