Surveillance - Classic Knight Rider (Mirror Universe)

[thecrazyalaskan]

Title: Surveillance
Author: fireweed15
Fandom / Pairing: Knight Rider - Mirror Universe — Garthe Knight x Karen "Karr" Armando, one sided Karen pining for Michael it's complicated
Rating: T+
Word Count: 1376
Warnings / Notes: Hurt / Comfort Bingo: Stalker; transfemme Karr, prompt from Whumpster Dumpster on Tumblr
Summary: Every breath you take and every move you make / Every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you — "Every Breath You Take" by The Police

TWENTY MINUTES Y'ALL I re-watched the Knight Rider pilot and got sandbagged with this twenty minutes into the pilot We haven't even met KARR or Garthe yet lol

* * * 

One two three four five four three two one… One two three four five four three two one—

The bed on the opposite side of the room creaked slightly, and Karr's fingers stilled on the scratchy sheets. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the glowing red digits on the alarm clock—12:51—and Michael's sleeping form turning over. She waited a few minutes more, until she was certain Michael's breathing had returned to the baseline of sleep.

Now or never— She pushed the blankets back and quietly slipped out of bed. Moving as stealthily as possible, she reached into her suitcase and fished out a change of clothes and shoes and a makeup bag. She stepped into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light until the door was closed and there were towels stuffed in the gap at the bottom of the door to block the light from within.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in a black cocktail dress, heels in hand as she dropped her makeup bag in the suitcase. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart twisting at the sight of Michael. If he knew what she was doing, he would be furious with the betrayal—but what else was she supposed to do, sit on her feelings until her heart imploded?

Huffing softly through her nose, Karr opened the door and slipped out into the hall.

⛊ ⛊ ⛊

Perhaps the best thing about Las Vegas was that it was so easy to blend in—even when passing in public was a challenge she felt ill equipped to handle, no one noticed her passing through the casino floor as she looked for—

"Miss Armando."

She felt his presence before she heard him speak—tall and intimidating, the words a low rumble in her ears and chest that set the butterflies in her stomach in a frenzy. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Garthe—"

He reached up to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressed a kiss, hot and heavy and possessive, to her lips. Any reservations she might have had about being seen, about the impression people were getting melted under his touch. Just when she felt like her knees were about to buckle, he broke away and gave her a long once over. "Radiant, as always."

A pleased flush colored her cheeks as she turned in front of him, showing off. "Really? You think so?"

Bemusement passed over Garthe's handsome features—exactly like Michaels in every way, save for the facial hair, a thought Karr carefully tucked away. Thinking about Michael, especially things like how handsome she found him, would only end in heartache. "Absolutely. Now—" He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, his grip such that it almost gave the illusion of being cinched, more feminine. "We have a reservation to meet."

⛊ ⛊ ⛊

There was a sense of fragility in the air—one with which Karr was intimately familiar. It was the kind of fragility that always came about when she was with Garthe. It wasn't cheating—but it felt like it. Like she was betraying Michael. She sipped her rosé, carefully turning her relationship with him over in her mind—strictly professional, but her heart wanted what it wanted. God only knew when or why she developed the crush that she had, but it was there and now she had to deal with it. She didn't resent Michael's previous girlfriends, nor the one-off women whose company he enjoyed—she wasn't that kind of woman to blame them for being the subject of his attention and affection—but she could neither confirm nor deny the twinge of jealousy in her gut when the subject came up.

It was that twinge of jealousy, she supposed, that sent her right into Garthe's arms. Why shouldn't she have someone to see on the side, blow off a little (a lot) pent up sexual energy—

"You seem distracted."

Her focus shifted back to the moment, to the way Garthe watched as he swirled dark amber whiskey in a glass. "I'm fine," she replied, smiling. "I'm having a wonderful time, really."

He hmm-ed, the sound a low rumble like thunder over the desert, before setting the rocks glass aside. "How long have you been my girl?" he asked, reaching over to tuck a lock of her short dark hair behind her ear.

She stammered wordlessly for a moment, distracted by the touch and the sound of his voice, to say nothing of the words themselves. "Ahh… a-a year—a year and a few months." A long time to keep up a clandestine relationship with the man she and Michael were supposed to bring back to the Foundation.

"I thought so. In that case—" He withdrew his hand and reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket before withdrawing a slim black box and sliding it across the table to her. "Here's something to mark the occasion."

Karr's stomach flipped as she accepted the box. "You got me a present?" she murmured.

Garthe gestured toward the box again, watching her with something Karr recognized as immense interest. Feeling a pleased blush creeping into her cheeks, she opened the box and gasped when she saw the contents—a slender silver watch, the face dotted with canary diamonds the size of the tip of a pen. It was understated and classy, the kind of aesthetic Karr so adored, and doubtlessly expensive, which spoke to Garthe's taste in gifts, and the fact that he'd thought to give her something at all made her eyes well up in tears. "Oh my god, thank you!"

Bemusement danced across Garthe's face as he held out a hand for the box, wordlessly offering to put it around her wrist. "You like it?"

"I love it!" she enthused, offering her wrist and watching him clasp the band. When he finished, she cradled her wrist to her chest as if holding something delicate and precious. "I'll never take it off."

⛊ ⛊ ⛊

In one of the luxury suites, a woman in a long black dress and ruby jewelry sipped dark amber whiskey, watching the scenery of the Las Vegas strip below her. She glanced at the alarm clock on the bed, sighing impatiently as she swirled the whiskey. Close to three in the morning now—

The door opened and close, and the air all but smoldered as Garthe entered and crossed the room to press a deep, white hot kiss to her mouth. "God, you reek of sex," she said when they separated.

"That's the funny thing, Kitt—" He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the back of an armchair. "I don't recall asking you."

Kitt uncapped a crystal decanter and poured some of its contents into a second rocks glass, which she passed to Garthe. "And I don't know what you see in her."

"A means to an end," he replied, lifting the glass to his lips.

"I gather fucking her falls under that very broad heading?" Kitt asked, arms crossed.

Anything more she might have had to say on the subject withered and died on her tongue under the look Garthe fixed on her. "Considering how easily manipulated she is, yes, it does. Is it online?"

A smile not unlike the edge of a knife shaped her features as she moved to a table and opened a laptop. Her fingers moved over the keys, each stroke entered with precision as she called up a program and keyed in the password, as the screen underlit her features. A moment passed before the knife's edge sharpened, and she turned the laptop to face him. "See for yourself."

Onscreen, single beeping dot moved through a map of the casino floor and the hotel. "I'm impressed," Garthe said, his gaze not straying from the screen. "A bug so powerful it can be tracked through any material—"

"And yet small enough it fits in the face of a watch," Kitt finished. "Just like you wanted."

They continued to watch the dot as the wearer it symbolized ascended a few floors in an elevator, then was on the move again before turning into one of the rooms and, save for a little milling about, staying there—

"Right where we want them."