The Not So Lonesome Knight: Mistake at the Motel

Dreamin'

Michael Knight is so rarely afraid of anything since his tours in Vietnam as a Green Berets and his time on the cold hard streets of Los Angeles. Tonight, however, he finds himself petrified by this new sense of vulnerability. He knows that he has been damaged by the losses he's experienced in the past. The worst of them being Stevie's senseless assassination so soon after their marriage vows. Sure, he did his best to cover the pain with his natural charm, sarcasm, and wit. It got him everywhere and everything he has wanted except when it came to her, the petite brunette slumbering peacefully within his arms. Of all the women he willed his act to work on, Bonnie was the most immune to flattery. Even still, he has held her in high esteem. They hadn't always seen eye to eye. He knows Barstow's lowly opinion of him had been fashioned from a jaded standpoint. Some man in her assorted and secretive past had inflicted serious injuries and had planted the seeds of mistrust in corners of her heart that even his trained eye couldn't spot. For that, he found himself pitying her. He wanted to be the heroic gentleman who would make it right! Yet, every time he tried to work up the courage, he recollected the way it felt to lose her to the University in San Francisco. Her absence had been a form of torment that burned gradual and hot, searing everything in its path. He reminds himself to tread with caution. He can't risk it, he won't risk having his heart ripped from his chest again. If it means, keeping these intense feelings for Bonnie prisoner, allowing them to exist only in the shadowy confines of his mind, so be it!

For a mechanic with calloused hands, Bonnie's form is extremely soft. Her frame fits so expertly against his it almost feels like they belonged together. As much as it internally grieves him, he believes she'll never be his. He'd never be good enough, smart enough, or rich enough to give her all the things her heart yearned after. With this trail of dour thoughts, his mind grows strangely still. It is at rest, with the kind of quietude he'd almost long forgotten, pre-dating the war and even his academy days. His heavy eye-lids lower and slumber steals in. In his rest, he could imagine whatever he'd like without facing stern admonishment.

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Bonnie's dreams are always preoccupied. They are destined to fixate on complicated formulas and equations. Sometimes the best inventions and improvements came to her in the night. Some would appear in the forms of visions, others as a simple word, or mathematical list. After all, her work was never truly finished.

Tonight, however, they were focused on Michael Knight. She pictures him with finite precision, the same dedication she gives to every inch of Kitt's systems and frame. Even in her sleep, Bonnie can perfectly recollect the way his unruly coffee-shaded locks curl around his angelic face. She can almost piece together all of the galaxies etched within his azure hues and the way those very same eyes express every emotion from anger to joviality. A part of her can detect the most minuscule twitches of his lips, deciphering truth from fiction. How was it that he could be so irritating and attractive at the same time? Perhaps, she had gifted too much time to the examination of Knight's physicality for someone he'd always consider just a friend. While she may never be able to have him in the realms of waking, in her dreams she could dare conjure up any number of hopeful possibilities.