Disintegrate

When Michael awoke, the scenery rushing past the windows had changed from the barren Western desert to the flat farmland of the Midwest. He blinked as Kitt slowly reduced the tint of the windows to let in more of the late morning sunshine.

"I take it you slept well?" Kitt asked.

"Yes, thanks," Michael replied, sitting up and giving his neck a quick stretch. "Where are we?"

"I90, west of Chicago."

"We're making good time."

"It helps when I drive," Kitt said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, it does." Michael rolled his neck back and forth a few times, thinking he was getting old. He also thought that it was well past time to talk to Kitt. He had been thinking about the letter that he was carrying and it made him realize that he had some apologizing to do too. And it would be much better if he said the things he needed to say before someone had to carry a letter to the people he loved.

"Kitt, look, I've had a lot of things on my mind the last few weeks. And one of is is how I treated you. I think I have as much apologizing to do as Devon did."

"I wouldn't know, since you insist on keeping me in the dark about what happened with Devon."

Michael took a deep breath. That was not how he wanted to start this conversation. "Kitt, look, I'm really very sorry fow I w I treated you. I'm sorry that I up and left with no warning. I'm sorry I didn't take into account what would happen to you. It was wrong and selfish. You were my friend and my partner and I let you down. I hope you can forgive me for that."

"Why, Michael? Why did you leave like that?"

Michael glanced down at the voice modulator, knowing that behind the sharp, angry words, his partner was deeply hurt by his actions. He wanted to explain, but he didn't know how much Kitt would accept. "I just couldn't take it anymore. I was so overwhelmed that I just didn't care about anything."

"Including me," Kitt said.

Michael sighed. "It's not that I didn't care about you. At the time I just felt like I had so much resting on my shoulders."

"So I was a burden?"

"Kitt, I'm trying to apologize." Michael's temper got the best of him.

"And I'm trying to understand." Kitt's tone softened a bit.

"It's not that you were a burden. Kitt, I felt like the people red red about were expecting so much from me. It felt like I kept letting you all down. I got it into my head that it would be better for everyone if I left. I really didn't think that you would be dismantled."

"We were partners. If you were feeling that way, why didn't you talk to me about it?"

"I just couldn't, Kitt." Michael suspected that he had just gotten into the habit ofpingping things bottled up. After what had happened, he had gotten used to hiding his feelings and not relying on those he loved. He hadn't meant to, but since so much seemed to stem from the one thing he couldn't talk about, he had just stopped talking about everything. "I don't know why. But I am really sorry. I screwed up. And I hope that you can forgive me for that."

"Of course I can forgive you. But that doesn't mean that everything will be the same as it was."

"I know that. But you forgiving me is a start, right?"

"Yes, Michael. I'm also sorry I've been so churlish lately. Being reactivated into the situation as it was, wasn't easy and I took it out on you."

"You had a right to. And I should have expected that. I thought you would be the same as you were when I left. I should have known better. I'm sorry for being impatient."

"Why now?" Kitt asked. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because, Kitt. I don't want to end up like Devon. I don't want to know there are people out there who I hurt and never made amends to."

"Thank you, Michael, that means a lot to me."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Michael spotted Devon standing at the end of the hallway, talking with one of the Foundation's larger contributors. They hadn't taken on any cases since escaping from Garthe, but Devon had been finding more than enough work to keep himself too busy to talk. The few times that he had run into Mel iel in the hallways, he had mumbled a few stilted pleasantries, but he refused to acknowledge Bonnie even that much. He seemed to be trying to operate in his own little vacuum, away from the rest of them.

Michael understood that. He knew it would probably be easier to just surround himself with the normal routines and everyday people and not deal with the things that were difficult. But Devon'stanstance was upsetting Bonnie and he had agreed to try to pin him down and talk to him.

Patiently, Michael waited until Devon finished his conversation and then tried to catch his eye. He could have sworn that Devon saw him, but turned the other way to leave anyway.

"Devon," Michael called out, quickening his pace to catch up. He was not in the mood to play games and he was t of of Devon blowing them off. It was starting to make him angry.

The older man missed a step and turned. "Yes," he answered formally.

"Can we talk?"

There was a resigned pause. "Of course."

Devon led the way to his office and ushered Michael in. He immediately took the chair behind his desk, putting several feet of mahogany between them.

"Look, this isn't helping," Michael started.

Devon just raised his eyebrows.

"You know what I'm talking about. You can't keep pretending she doesn't exist."

"I'm afraid I *don't* know what you're talking about," he said.

Michael tried to control his frustration. "Yes. You do."

Devon made a show of pulling out his watch and checking the time. "As much as I'd love to continue debating whether or not I can read your mind, I have a meeting in ten minutes, so perhaps we should get to the point."

"This isn't a ten minute conversation."

"Then I'm afraid it will have to wait."

"It's waited too long as it is," Michael said, frustrated with how this was going.

Devon got up and headed for the door. Michael thought about just letting him go, but this was ridiculous. Without turning around he said, "You're hurting her more this way, you know."

He heard the footsteps on the carpet stop. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that I think she can live with what happened. But she can't live with you turning your back."

Michael heard him take a few steps away from the door, into the room. "And that is something that I really don't understand."

Michael turned around to look at him and took a deep breath. "I think, in some ways, this whole thing is easier for her. I mean, not easier exactly, but less . . . ambiguous. She was the one with the gun to her head. I think she saw what needed to happen and accepted that on some level."

"I can't. Just accept it, that is," Devon said, looking at the floor.

"We have to."

Devon shook his head. "Not possible."

"So what are the options? We go around pretending that we don't see each other? Pretending nothinppenppened?"

"And why not?"

"Devon. That's not a good way to treat the people you care about. And it doesn't solve anything. You know as well as I do that it just doesn't work that way."

"But it is working."

"Don't kid yourself." Michael was trying very hard not to let his frustration show.

"It seems to be working for Bonnie too. She seems fine."

"Have you looked at her recently? Have you noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the fact she's lost at least five or ten pounds? She's not fine."

"No. I hadn't noticed," Devon said, sounding ashamed.

"I said I thought it was easier for her, but that doesn't mean it isn't incredibly hard on all of us."

Devon was quiet for a long time before he came back into the room and sat down on the couch, facing away from Michael.

"How does one say one's sorry for something so hideous, so incomprehensible?" Devon asked.

"I don't know that sorry is necessary. But if it makes you feel better to say it, I think that's a good place to start. I think right now she'd take any acknowledgement."

Devon shook his head. "So much more than sorry is necessary."

"Well, if you feel that way, at least tell her that. This is hard, but things are ogoingoing to get worse if we don't talk. Devon, if we want to get passed this, we will. This doesn't have to change everything."

"Of course it does," Devon said, sounding frustrated himself. He stood again, restlessly. "I have that meeting," he said and quickly left the room.

Michael let him go, hoping that it was at least a start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael turned on the vents so that he could breath in the wonderful pine scent of the deep green Pennsylvania forests. They were getting closer, but things with Kitt had gotten strained again as they approached the East Coast. Michael assumed that Kitt was probably reliving as much of the past as he was.

"Why did Bonnie leave?" Kitt asked a few hours later, confirming Michael's suspicions.

He didn't answer. Kitt had asked that question several times in the past, but they had agreed not to tell him. For good reason, Michael thought. He couldn't even fathom trying to explain. But he felt bad for Kitt, who had had to watch the rift between them all widen, not having any idea what had caused it. Michael knew that Bonnie had good reasons for leaving, and it had still been painful for him to watch her go. He could only imagine what it had been like from Kitt's perspective.

"It's in the past, can we leave it there, please?" Michael replied.

"Why wouldn't you ever tell me?"

"Because I couldn't, can't, Kitt. It's between the three of us, and it needs to stay that way."

"You don't trust me."

"That's not true."

"I know that Bonnie and Devon weren't getting along, but I still don't know why," he said, indignantly. "Before her last fonthonths at the Foundation, they almost never argued. I don't understand what changed."

"It's complicated," Michael said, feeling guilty about his evasive answers but not knowing what he could say that would satisfy his friend.

"Maybe I could have helped," Kitt said. "It affected me too."

Michael stared out into the dense forest around them. "I know that, Kitt. And I'm sorry, but there was nothing you could have done. Trust me."

"That isn't as easy to do as it used to be," Kitt said, sadly.

Michael knew there was nothing he could say to that. It amazed him that a group of people as unified as they were could get to a point where they couldn't even talk to each other. It had all happened way too fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael wound his way through the corridors towards Devon's office. He and Kitt had been off working on a small case. A counterfeiting scheme, nothing too taxing, but it felt good to get back to the old routines. It was soothing in a way that he hadn't been expecting; the time away from the Foundation had helped him to put things in order.

When he entered Devon's office, the relief and hopefulness drained away. Bonnie was standing next to her computer, with her back to the rest of the room, waiting for a file to finish prig. g. Devon was at his desk. It was fairly obvious that they had staked out neutral corners. These days there were always corners tucked into the edges of very large rooms.

"Ah, Michael. How are you?" Devon's voice was cheery and light, but Michael knew it was a practiced front, a polite facade.

"Hi, guys. How's it going?" Michael asked slowly, feeling like he was walking into a minefield.

Devon didn't answer. Neither of them did. Devon looked up at him in a way that was almost pleading and it broke Michael's heart. He was supposed to be the mediator, the calming presence, the sage who kept them all sane. To have Devon looking to him to smooth over a delicate situation was a role reversal that Michael wasn't prepared for.

"How are things going with the case?" Devon finally asked.

"Fine."

Bonnie ventured far enough from her computer to hand him the printout. "I was going to send this to Kitt, but since you came in. . ." she said, her voice trailing off.

"Anything else?" Michael asked, pointedly. Devon had called and requested that Michael come back to the Foundation, so obviously there was something he needed to say.

"I talked to the lawyers this morning. Garthe was arraigned on charges of kidnapping, trespassing, and weapons possession. They are also going to charge him with crimes related to his exploits prior to being presumed dead."

There was a long pause. Michael decided to probe the unanswered question. "Are we all okay with that?"

"I thought it best," Devon said, fumbling with his pen.

Michael turned to Bonnie. "Do you agree?"

"Yes," she said softly, not looking in their direction. "Assuming he's convicted of the other crimes, it wouldn't add much to his sentence anyway."

Michael nodded. He couldn't fathom how hard it would be to explain to anyone, much less a jury. They were having a tough enough time as it was.

"I think it's probably best if we just try to put this behind us," Bonnie said.

Devon glanced at her and Michael tried to decipher the strange look on his face. "I assumed that would be your opinion," he said evenly, but there was something underlying it, an anger that had Michael worried.

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked, tentatively.

"Nothing." Devon lowered his eyes and shuffled the papers on his desk.

Michael didn't like the direction this was going. "We just have to hang in there, guys. We'll pas passed this," he tried.

"How?" Devon said sharply, the single word loaded with anger. He got up from his desk and stood in front of the window, turning his back to them. Michael was shocked by how quickly and negatively Devon reacted. He was clearly struggling to keep himself together and it made Michael very uneasy.

"I don't know, but we will. We'll work it out." Michael tried to infuse his voice with a confidence he wasn't feeling.

"I'm sorry," Devon said softly, retreating again. "I know I haven't been dealing with this very well."

"It's okay, we're all having a tough time."

Devon turned and lookack ack and forth between them. "I just don't understand how you two can just carry on like nothing happened."
We aWe aren't," Bonnie said carefully.

Michael sighed, wishing he knew what Devon needed to hear. "It's just a matter of trying."

"I see. And I'm not trying hard enough, I take it," Devon said, despondently, this time.

Michael was normally good at handling people in a crisis but this was well beyond him. He didn't know how to navigate all the unspoken emotional undercurrents that kept seeping into the conversation. And Devon was so unlike himself that Michael wasn't even able to gauge his reactions.

"I'm not saying that. Not at all," Michael said, trying to bring down the level of tension in the room.

"Devon, what would you like us to do?" Bonnie asked softly.

"I'm afraid there is nothing that can be done at this point, is there?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, the choices have been made, haven't they?"

"I still don't know . . ." Bonnie started.

"Of course you do. You made your choice in Lancaster and now we all have to live with it." There was a coldness and a distance in Devon's voice that sounded utterly foreign.

"Devon?" she asked plaintively, her eyes wide.

"It would have been better for all of us if you had simply taken the bullet to the head. There would have been more dignity in it," Devon said, his voice simmering with quiet fury.

Bonnie's head snapped back and she stared at Devon, stunned. Michael flew toward him, feeling wounded himself even though the comment hadn't been directed at him. "Devon!! You know that isn't true!" Devon briefly returned Michael's angry stare and then turned away, not able to hold the eye contact. He crossed his arms defensively and went to his desk, hiding behind the mahogany. Michael was livid. He knew that Devon was hurt and trying to protect himself, trying to hide his own feelings of guilt, but he had no right. Michael turned to look at Bonnie. She was frozen, staring at where Devon had been standing.

"Devon, this isn't . . ." he started, more calmly.

"Don't bother," Bonnie said, her voice was flat, emotionless. She turned sharply and quickly found her way to the door.

Michael glared at Devon. "You know that isn't true and you have no right to say it! Do you honestly want her dead?!" Devon sat at his desk, willfully ignoring him. "Damn it! Why in the hell do you think that hurting her is going to make things any easier for you!"

Devon continued to ignore him so he turned to go after Bonnie instead. He slammed the door behind him and saw her miss a step and flinch even though she was well down the hallway.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry. He doesn't mean it."

"Don't . . . Don't apologize for him," she said angrily, but Michael could also hear the tremor beneath it. He quickened his pace to catch up with her.

"He just doesn't know how to handle this."

"And you think I do?"

"No, but . . . Will you just stop a minute."

She stopped, but kept her back to him. "I'm leaving."

"What?" Michael asked, taken aback. He knew she was upset, but . . .

"I'm leaving. I can't stay here anymore." She seemed to be gaining certainty as she spoke.

Michael was jarred by the finality of it. If she left, things would never be the same. "Don't do that. Bonnie, please."

"I . . . can't . . . stay here." Her voice broke and Michael felt ill. He wanted so badly to fix everything between them and he just didn't know how. The more he tried, the worse things got.

"How am I going to work with him? He'd rather I was dead!" She had wrapped her arms around herself and was obviously crying.

"He didn't mean it, Bonnie. I know he didn't."

"He blames me. You saw what it was like when you came in. He won't even talk to me."

"Give him time," Michael said approaching her slowly.

"It's too hard. It's easier for you, you're on the road with Kitt." She paused and took a deep breath. "I can't be in the same room with him knowing that he can't even stand to look at me."

"He'll get over it. Please don't go like this. We'll find a way, I promise."

She slowly spun around to face him and Michael was frightened by the despair in her eyes. "I can't. I'm sorry."

He watched as she continued down the hallway alone, praying for someone to give him the right words to say.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael checked the address again and slowly climbed the stone steps that lead to the front of the modest brick house. He rang the bell and heard kids running and yelling inside. Bonnie opened the door and her friendly smile faded as she caught sight of him. A littlel wil with long brown braids, who looked to be about 6, ran up behind her.

"Hi," Bonnie said guardedly.

"Who's here?" the little girl asked.

Bonnie turned and put a hand on her head. "Becky, why don't you take your brother out in the backyard to play for a bit."

Becky ran into the house and Bonnie turned her attention to Michael. "Come in," she said, moving away from the door. Michael followed her and wasn't surprised to find that the front room was tastefully, but somewhat sparsely, decorated. It had a practical, lived in feel. Neither of them took a seat.

"I'm sorry, I probably should have called. How are you?"

"Fine." She shrugged slightly, peering through the front window. "So, you've either destroyed Kitt and need my help. Or, he's dead."

Michael was suddenly very uncomfortable. It was awkward to see her after all this time. He realized he didn't know anything about who she was anymore. She hadn't changed much, physically, aside from being several years older. Her hair was shorter and she was thinner, but the changes weren't drastic, on the outside, anyway. "Devon died four weeks ago."

She sighed softly. "How?"

"We were on a case. The guy we were after kidnapped and poisoned him."

She nodded. "And you came all the way out here to tell me this?"

Standing here looking at her, Michael wasn't sure what he was doing. He didn't know what he had expected, but this wasn't it. "Well, yes. That and I was going through his papers and I found this." He dug the letter out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She looked at the writing on the envelope, but didn't take it from him. She backed up and sat on the couch instead. "You could have saved yourself the trip and mailed it. Or you could have saved me the trouble and circular filed it."

Michael followed Bonnie's lead and sank stiffly into a green chair next to the couch, not wanting to tower over her. "If it were me, I'd want to know that he died. I'd also want to know what he had to say to me."

"Things were different between us. That letter isn't going to say anything I want to hear."

"I thought about that," he said carefully, "but its obviously been handled a lot. I think he kept it with him. And Devon wasn't the kind of person to carry around something angry. But an apology that he was trying to find the courage to send? That sounds a lot more like him."

Uncertainty clouded her face. "Michael . . ."

"Look, I took a chance. I didn't want to just throw the letter away if it was Devon's attempt to make things right. He deserves that chance."

"Not if he decided to wait until he was dead to apologize, " she said bitterly.

"Look, I know he said and did some awful, cruel things. And I'm not going to pretend that I know exactow mow much that hurt you, but if he really wanted to make amends, what's the harm in hearing it? He's dead," Michael said, as gently as he could. "There's a time to let things go."

She stared silently, thinking it over, he hoped. After a long wait, he decided he wasn't getting anywhere and it was probably better to let her have some time to work through things. "Just, think about it." He stood and tried one more time to hand her the letter. She refused to take it so he started to let himself out, pausing at the door. "I'll be around for a couple of days, if you change your mind."

"He was better after I left," she said, a statement and a question.

Michael paused. "On the surface, yes. He seemed to get back to his normal self, but I don't think that's how he felt. He missed you too, Bonnie."

* * *

Michael sat on the brown, wooden bench, waiting for Bonnie to find him. He heft eft her a message that he would be in the park if she wanted to talk. He didn't want to force the issue - she would probably just get defensive. But once she had enough time to really think about it, he was pretty sure she would change her mind.

It was a nice day so he was enjoying spending the afternoon outside. He had picked a bench with a view of the park's little manmade lake. Two ducks were swimming peacefully back and forth, and he had a book to keep him company while he waited. He had picked up reading as a hobby shortly after he started the bass charter. There was a lot of downtime with nothing else to do. Michael glanced at the paperback in his hand. He had bought it on a whim, remembering that Devon liked it and how it had been the clue to help get them out of a jam once. He didn't know if he was getting any wiser with age, but he was actually seeing some things in the story that made sense to him. Who would have thought, Michael Knight reading Moby Dick? This is your fault, old friend, he thought. He smiled thinking that Devon was probably somewhere, secretly pleased with his influence.

Michael happened to glance up in time to see Bonnie approaching down the main path. She looked more relaxed than yesterday, and there was something approaching a smile on her face. It helped put him at ease.

"I knew you were going to hound me," she said, in the tone of their old banter.

"Have you ever known me to give up?" he asked as he stood to give her a quick hug.

"No." She sat down next to him on the bench and took a deep breath. "Look, I just want to say I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I just wasn't prepared to see you standing on my doorstep."

"I know. And I dropped a lot ou, ou, all at once. I should have called you first. But I was afraid you'd just tell me not to come."

She smiled sadly. "So, I didn't even ask. How are you?"

"I'm doing okay. It's been a crazy couple of months, but things are starting to settle down again."

"How are things at the Foundation?"

"Different. Very different. I don't think you'd recognize it. The headquarters moved to Seattle, you know."

"No, I didn't."

"There have been a lot of other changes too," he said, thinking that it was too much to go into right now. "How about you? How are you doing?"

"Alright. I like being back in Boston."

"So how old are your kids? Your daughter's a cutie," he said, wanting to get a sense of what her life was like now.

She smiled, "She is, but they're my sister's kids. I watch them every other Saturday while Jessie does a weekend shift at work."

"Oh," he said, a little embarrassed. Part of him was sad that they weren't her kids. He had taken thata goa good sign that she had started over and managed to make a clean break from the past. He didn't want to think that she was alone out here.

"So what were things like after I left?" she asked quietly.

"It was tough. It was hard not having you to talk to, in all honesty. Kitt was angry about being kept in the dark and I started to feel like I was walking on eggshells most of the time. Actually, I left two years after you did."

She looked at him, surprised. "Why?"

"It just got to be too much."

She stared at him, obviously waiting more. He didn't want to tell her that her leaving had a lot to do with it. It certainly wasn't the only thing, but it figured in pretty strongly. "It was a lot of things and it was a long process. There were a couple of blown cases and this thing with a kid that RC asked us to help. You remember how he started that youth center in Chicago?"

She nodded.

"Well he had a kid who was really promising and he asked us to give him an internship. He said Rob just needed to get away from the bad influence of his friends in Chicago. So he sent Rob out to us and the kid was great. He was rough around the edges and hard to get through to sometimes, but he was a good kid. The summer ended and he went back to Chicago. RC called again in October to say that he had been killed in a gang fight." Michael felt the frustration returning just talking about it.

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said.

"It just started to look like I was kidding myself by thinking I could make a difference, you know? It started to feel like I was digging in sand. For every shovel full I dug out, more was just sliding back into the hole. I just couldn't change anything in a way that lasted, and it started to seem like a waste of time to even try. I was afraid I was letting everyone down. So I left."

"I'm sorry things got so bad, Michael. But you're back now?"

"Not really. Kind of. Kitt and I aren't partners anymore. He's working with a woman named Shawn. Things are different."

She seemed to be taking it all in, thinking about what he was saying. "So if you haven't been at the Foundation, what have bee been doing all this time?"

Michael smiled. "I run a bass charter in the mountains."

"You fish?" Bonnie asked, incredulously.

"Well, and have other people pay money to fish, yeah."

She looked at him, grinning. "You fish for a living?"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with that," he said as shartearted to laugh outright.

"I just can't see you doing something that requires that much patience. I have this image of you trolling with your boat in Super Pursuit Mode or something."

Michael rolled his eyes. "If only the fish could keep up with me," he said, noticing how good it felt to laugh with her. It was something he missed terribly.

As the laughter died out, there was an awkward pause. "I suppose I'm just trying to delay the inevitable," Bonnie said.

Michael pulled the envelop out of his jacket and handed it to her. She carefully turned it over, running her hand across the thick paper.

"You really think I should open this?" she asked, eyeing it warily.

"Yeah. I think you owe it to yourself. Things weren't good when you left. Maybe he found some clarity in the years since. Maybe it will make things easier."

"And if it doesn't?" she asked.

"If it doesn't, well, you can cry on my shoulder or do whatever you need to do. But you won't be any worse off, right?"

"I don't know about that," she said.

"Do you want me to give you some time alone?" Michael asked.

She thought for a minute. "No, that's okay. I think I'd rather have you here. But I'm sure I'm going to end up crying, no matter what it says."

"I can handle a few tears."

She ran her fingers across her name and then turned the envelope over again. She slowly opened it and pulled out the single sheet of stationary paper. Michael had expected it to be longer for some reason. He didn't want to stare at her while she read, so he looked down at his hands and waited, occasionally glancing over to make sure that she was okay.

The tears were strng dng down her face as she read. She leaned to the side of the bench and rested her elbow on the arm, propping her forehead up with her hand.

She finished reading and set the letter down on her lap.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Was it an apology?" he asked tentatively, not sure if she wanted to talk about it.

She no aga again and looked away, handing him the paper. Michael took it gingerly, waiting a beat to be sure she really wanted him to read it. The thick paper had a comforting weight to it and when Michael finally committed to reading it, he noticed that the meticulously aligned rows of words provided a sense of calm and order. Devon's handwriting had always been elegant, but it looked like he had written the letter several times before committing it to this sheet of paper - every word was carefully crafted in simple black ink.

Dearest Bonnie,

I'm so sorry. I know that saying that will never make up for all the pain I've caused you, and it seems so inadequate, but I don't know where else to start. You were like a daughter to me, and for selfish reasons, I pushed you away. I never could have imagined that things would end the way they did, and I don't think I can ever express how much I regret my actions.

Even at the time, I knew that the honorable thing, the right thing, to do was to try and come to terms with what happened. I wanted to work things out, but I just didn't know how. I couldn't face the person I felt I had become, and because of that, I couldn't face you. That was no excuse for hurting you and causing you to leave, but I had convinced myself that it would be easier for all of us that way. Of course I was wrong. I have tried throughout my life to admit my mistakes, but for some reason, this time I just couldn't.

The things I did and said hurt us all and I wish that there were some way I could make amends. Please know that I never meant any of the horrible things I said to you. It was my fear and shame speaking. You are and have always been a lovely and intelligent woman with impeccable integrity and a genuine kindness. It amazes me that somehow you were able to survive this situation with your character intact. I wish I could say the same about myself.

Please know that I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't find the courage to say this in person.

My sincerest and deepest apologies, and my love,

Devon

Michael handed the note back to Bonnie and stared tly tly at the lake in front of them. He didn't know what to say. He watched the rollerbladers and people walking dogs, living normal lives. He felt like he had spent the last twelve years either trying to figure out what normal was or trying to avoid it entirely. Bonnie took the letter and carefully folded it back into its envelope.

"Michael, when he told me I should have died, I wanted to. It hurt so much to know that he thought that lowly of me, that he thought I was that damaged or contemptible."

Michael gently put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "I know he didn't feel that way about you. I think that's how he felt about himself," he said, grieving for all the things that Devon had carried around with him.

"It still hurt to hear him say that," she said, quietly.

"I know, but Bonnie, he was the least able to adapt of all of us and I just don't think he ever really accepted that we were all vms ims in this. He couldn't let go of the idea that he was at fault somehow, that he had done some something hideous. That didn't make it right for him to take it out on you, but he was hurting himself too."

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"At least he said he was sorry," Michael said, gesturing toward the letter.

They sat quietly for a while. "Are you going to be okay?" Michael asked, finally.

"Yes."

"Are you glad I came?"

Bonnie turned to face him. "Yes. I missed you. It's good to see you again."

"And the letter?"

"I'm still working on that," she said, uncertainly.

Michael nodded, thinking that if the roles were reversed, he'd need a lot of time and dist to to work through everything too. But he didn't want to leave her out here alone like this. Granted, he didn't know anything about what her life was like now, but he didn't get the sense that there was a lot keeping her here. She seemed a lot like him, sequestered away, interacting with people but still alone. "Bon, drive back with me to Seattle."

"I can't just up and leave," she said, surprised.

"Why not?"

"I have a job, Michael, and Jessie needs my help.\ "Y "You have vacation, don't you? And I'm sure your sister could get by without you for a little while."

She didn't answer and he suspected that she had more vacation saved up than she'd like to admit.

"We don't have to make it a direct trip. We could stop off at my cabin, do some fishing, and make a vacation of it. Or if you need to get back, we can drive straight through. It's just that it's been a long time and I'd like to catch up with you. I do miss you, very much."

"Michael . . ." She looked at him and smiled sadly, but he got the sense that she was wavering, just on the edge of agreeing to go.

"Besides, I know Kitt would love to see you again," he cajoled, playing his ace.

A beaming smile spread across her face. "I was wondering if you brought him. Is he here now?" she asked, looking toward the street.

"No. I wasn't sure if you'd feel comfortable talking if he was around, so I asked him to go for a drive."

She nodded vaguely. "I do want to at least say 'hi.'"

"You'd better do more than that. In fact, for my safety, you're going to have to come with us. I don't think he'd forgive me if we came all the way out here and he didn't even get to spend some quality time with you."

"Oh, well, if Kitt wants me to come . . . " she said grinning.

Michael looked skyward, "For Kitt she'll come along. I'm just chopped liver."

"I need some time to get some things together, call my boss. When were you planning on leaving?"

"Tomorrow, but if you need more time, we aren't in a hurry."

"No, that's okay," she said, "tomorrow would be fine."

She got up to leave and Michael stood with her, engulfing her in a big hug. "I can't say how much I missed you, Bonnie."

"I missed you too," she said and gave him another quick squeeze before breaking away.

He watched her walk away down the path and felt more at ease than he had in a long time. He didn't realize how much like family they really were. Even after all these years, it felt like home to be near her again.

* * *

Michael strolled up the walkway to Bonnie's front door and rang the bell. She opened it and turned to go back into the house, clearly still searching for the last odds and ends that she needed to take. He saw her bag sitting on the floor and hoisted it over his shoulder as she grabbed a set of keys off the table next to the door.

"Okay, I think I'm ready," she said as he stood back to let her pass first. She stopped dead in the doorway, catching her first glimpse of the red Knight 4000 vehicle. She looked at Michael, incredulously. "What did you DO to him?"

"This isn't even the half of it," Kitt said, dryly.

Michael smiled. "And I'm sure he'll be happy to fill you in, in excruciating detail, on the trip back," Michael said.

"Happily," Kitt replied.

"Just remember that I was not responsible for most of it. Maddock has that honor," Michael said.

"Who's Maddock?" Bonnie asked.

Michael laughed. "Who's Maddock? Well, basically, he took over Devon's job. It's kind of a long story."

"The short version of it is that he's an ass," Kitt said, pulling no punches.

"Kitt?!" Bonnie scolded, clearly surprised by his swearing, and easily falling back into her role of mothering him.

"He's gotten a little more. . . uh. . . colorful, recently," Michael explained. "In more ways than one."

"I think I'm entitled," Kitt said petulantly.

She looked him and shoor her head. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Just don't ask about the Chevy, okay?" Michael quipped.

She gave him one of those old, familiar withering looks and started down the sidewalk to the passenger door.

"Bonnie it's wonderful to see you again," Kitt said, his voice infused with a sincerity that Michael hadn't heard from him in a long time.

"You too, Kitt. I really missed you," she said, taking her place in the passenger seat.

* * *

Michael wandered back to Kitt and leaned against the door. He watched from the safe distance of the road that snaked through the cemetery, wanting to give Bonnie as much time and space as she needed. She was standing next to the simple marker, holding a bouquet of purple tulips. As Michael watched, she tossed the flowers gently toward the headstone and turned to walk back over the rolling lawn between Devon's grave and the road.

"Why here?" she asked as she joined them, leaning against Kitt next to Michael.

"He bought the plot a while ago, back in the early days," Michael said, having questioned himself why Devon would have chosen to be buried in Los Angeles. It might just have been the accident of timing -- Devon had lived in a lot of places. But Michael wondered if it was more than that, if maybe Devon felt he had left something of himself in the place where they had first tried to realize Wilton Knight's dream. Perhaps that was why he hadn't bothered to move most of his possessions to Seattle. Maybe he had hoped that someday they'd end up back home.

"I'm still angry with him," Bonnie said.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't," Michael replied, remembering how angry he had been with Devon after she left. "It's going to take time."

He pushed himself away from the door and walked around to the driver's side as she got in. "At least you know he was trying," Michael said. "And as long as you're trying too, I don't think there's anything more anyone can ask of you."

The three of them rode in silence as they followed the picturesque cemetery road back out onto the streets. Michael guided car car through traffic toward Pacific Coast Highway.

Kitt was the first to break the silence. "Since we've made this a site seeing tour, do you think we could make one more stop?"

"Sure, where?" Michael asked.

"You'll see." Kitt guided the car through the city and Michael slowly realized where they were going.

The pulled up the circular drive and stopped in front of the red brick mansion.

"Looks the same," Michael said.

"Not exactly," Kitt replied. "There's a builbuil on on the grounds and the garage has been upgraded into a full addition."

Michael looked over at Bonnie. "Lots of memories here, huh?"

"I really wish we could have found a way to make things work. I missed this," she said, staring out the window.

Michael put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before putting the car in gear. Slowly they pulled around the circular drive, through the canopy of trees, and left, the view of the past still large in the rearview mirror.

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- knightshade
May 27, 2002
dknightshade@earthlink.net