Legacy, Part One
by elfin


This was it. The end. And he didn't much care. Kitt was gone and he was drowning in the hole in his mind. When the iron bulk of Goliath, rumbling towards him along the uneven desert road doing at least seventy, delivered its final, fatal blow, it would be a mercy, nothing compared to the pain the absence of his partner would very quickly become. He closed his eyes and felt the thunder of the truck's approach, the hard vibrations of it through the quaking ground.

Last night… he'd been sitting with his back against the filthy, cold brick wall of Garth's homemade cell, kicking away rats, picking at the rusty manacles, silently planning escape routes with Kitt. His partner had mentioned someone trying to get into his systems but he hadn't seemed overly concerned. When the real threat had become obvious it was too late; the link between them suddenly ripped apart, Kitt vanishing from his mind leaving a black, searing fire and an agonising gaping hole. As much as Michael had shouted and screamed for his partner, he was gone.

He could hear the roar of Goliath's engine bearing down on him now, imagined the maniacal laughter of his inherited brother, smelt diesel fumes and death. Five hundred yards.

//goodbye Kitt//

There were tears in his eyes that had nothing to do with the dust or the sand. Four hundred yards.

//I love you//

No response. There would never be a response ever again. Three hundred.

That black hole was starting to swallow his mind; his sanity a little bit at a time.

Two hundred.

No fear. There was nothing left to fear. Being mown down by a ten tonne semi with a lunatic at the wheel was preferable to living without Kitt in his mind, in his life. The hole would never heal.

One hundred.

Someone screamed. He didn't want it to be him.

Zero.

The scream wasn't human. It was metallic. Metal against metal. Brakes against forward momentum.

Michael opened one eye and looked straight at Goliath's dusty black metal grille, inches from his face. He let out the breath he hadn't been holding and wiped the tears from his face with the heel of his hand.

"KILL ME!" he shouted with the full force of his lungs. The truck didn't move. It sat in front of him, looming over him, engine rumbling low and loud. "DO IT and END THIS!"

Goliath didn't move, and with a harsh sob Michael clawed his hands into his hair. "Please…. Just finish it. You've killed me already."

Still there was no movement. Maybe Garth wanted to have the last moment… but there was no sign of him getting out.

Taking a couple of unsteady steps back, Michael looked up, straining to see through the windshield, but all he could see was the blinding sunlight reflecting off it.

He didn't want to fight. He wanted to die. He did the only thing he could think to do. He turned his back on Goliath and started to walk. He got several yards before he heard and felt the roar of the huge engine and tensed, imagining that this was it and feeling thankful for it.

But instead of hitting him, instead of running straight over him as it should have done - his slim body with its muscle and bone not exactly an obstacle for the great behemoth - it simply… followed him. He turned his head, and stopped in his tracks, staring at the truck in disbelief. "I'M NOT SCARED, GARTH," he shouted up, "I WANT TO DIE. I'M NOT GOING TO RUN. AND I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU."

When Garth didn't run him over and didn't get out, Michael let loose a frustrated yell. Going around to the driver's side he jumped up onto the footplate and yanked the door open, not in any way ready or willing to defend himself against the attack that was sure to come.

His mouth fell open then at the sight of the empty cabin and for a second he was stunned. And then his anger surged back to the surface.

"Garth, you BASTARD!"

Slamming the door he dropped back to the road, to his feet. He hadn't realised the truck was remotely controlled. Garth had stolen the idea of Kitt's MBS protection, why not his ability to drive the car himself too? Itself. This wasn't a vehicle with a soul. This was a dead weight of iron and steel. Heartless, soulless; a machine, a tool and nothing else.

His head was pounding; the pressure building into a migraine that he knew would never go away. He just wanted it to end. Looking around he weighed up his options. Suicide was easy in the desert; just sit down and wait for dehydration and exposure to take its toll, if something poisonous with needles for teeth didn't first. But now Goliath wasn't coming after him he had some time, and he wanted to find Kitt… find his remains and give him a proper send off. He owed his partner that. That… and so much more. Everything. Garth's place was only a few miles back the way he'd come. That was where he'd been held. That was where Kitt had lost his life…. That's where he was going.

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