Title: Fairer Than Death

Author: Karen

Fandom: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers

Paring: Billy/Jason; Kim/Tommy

Rating: NC17

Status: New, complete

Archive: Yes, please archive this.

Series/Sequel: No; but "Blue Yonder" is a companion, stand-alone, piece

Disclaimers: Saban owns them -- which, considering how badly they were misused, is too bad!-- still, no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: Continuity: Well, kind of to before Zeo, but not really... Rocky instead of Zack. No peace conference. You'll see.

Summary: A devastating accident strains the Rangers, possibly to the breaking point

Warnings: AU

Fairer Than Death
by Karen

It was probably no more than ten minutes, but it was the longest ten minutes of Jason's life.

Trini screamed. Probably not for the whole time, but when he thought about it later, it seemed as if her screams were background for the entire fight.

Maybe he remembered it like that because that was how he felt: like screaming. A part of his mind was, the whole time, screaming in anger and denial and pain; the one small part that could afford to, the piece that wasn't the Red Ranger, in charge, responsible, not only for what had just happened but for what still might, would, if he screwed up again.

But the rest of him was doing what had to be done. From the minute Revenger's attention was distracted to the minute he and Tommy literally ripped the SOB limb from limb, he was focussed and functional. And for longer than that, because it wasn't over and somebody needed to be.

The remains of Revenger's body were dissolving at their feet, even evaporating off his cross-trainers. At least we won't have to try to explain that, he thought briefly, checking his team out with a quick glance. He could feel the Morphin power again; whatever had cut them off from the Grid, reverting them so abruptly to normal, was gone. "Let's get down there," he said.

They skidded to a halt next to Billy's crumpled body. "Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh," said Kimberly. "Is he... is he dead?"

Jason slid two fingers under his friend's jaw. There was a pulse, very slow, but the skin was very cold. "No." Jason took a single breath, a look around at the other three—Kim, wide-eyed and twisting her hands in her pink sweater; Trini, her arms wrapped around herself and her old-ivory complexion even paler than usual against the dark blue of the shirt Billy had lent her after their armor had vanished; Tommy, kneeling on the other side of Billy, poised and pissed off—and then took charge. "Kim, go call 911."

"911?" she protested. "We should take him to the Command Center, Jason!"

"No," he shook his head. "That won't do any good. You know the table's mainly for energy weapons attacks, some minor stuff. This is not minor. He needs to be hospitalized. Go call 911. Kim!" he stopped her. "Tell them he fell, he's hurt, and nothing else. Hang up and get back here."

"Right, Jason." She took off again.

"Trini. Trini," he stood up and and took her by the shoulders, giving them a shake. "Trini."

She flinched, then looked at him, her dark eyes wide.

"Go back to the swimming pool—"

"Jason!"

"Trini, you're supposed to be swimming. Your parents will never understand why you're here. Or how. It's trouble we don't need. We'll call you from the hospital, you can come, but you can't be here now."

"Yes, I see that." She looked down at Billy for a moment, then left in a streak of yellow.

Jason turned to Tommy. "Before Kim gets back—"

"Yeah?" He hadn't moved.

"You can't be here either. Tommy—" He dropped to his heels in front of the other boy, putting his hand on top of the other's where it rested, lightly, on Billy's black-teeshirt-clad shoulder. Resolutely, he kept his eyes off his oldest friend and on his newest. "Look, man, we don't have time for subtlety. You can't be here either. If you're here, Ratkowsky will try to put it on you. Tommy—" he forestalled whatever the Green Ranger was planning on saying. Jason hated doing it, but he knew he was right. "He hassles my dad about you all the time. He'll decide Kim and I are lying and he'll dig and we can't afford it. I'm sorry, man—"

"No," Tommy shook his head. "You're right. The cops won't let go... not your dad, but—"

"Don't worry," Jason brushed off the half-apology as wholly unneeded. "Just get out before the paramedics get here. Go home or—"

"I told the Olivers I was with you guys." Tommy's dark eyes got briefly darker. "Look, I'll think of something to tell them. So I lied to them; they're getting used to it. Don't worry about me."

"I'm sorry."

"No. I am. It's my fault. But don't worry about it; you guys just don't know."

"Right," Jason nodded. "You just said you had something else to do when we called."

Tommy touched Billy's shoulder lightly. "Hang in there, Bill," he said softly. He stood. "I'm sorry, Jason," he said again, and was gone before Jason could answer.

Kim came running back. "They're coming, they'll be here in a few—where are Tommy and Trini?"

"I sent Trini back to the swimming pool. Tommy..." he paused while he pulled off his sweatshirt and laid it over Billy. "If his case worker knew he was here, Kim, it would be a mess we can't handle."

"Tommy would never hurt Billy!" she insisted.

"No, of course he wouldn't. And we wouldn't lie about it. But the guy has it in for Tommy, he'd be all over him, and we can't take that chance."

"Omigosh," she said. "You're right. And Mr. Kwan would kill Trini... He's gonna be all right, isn't he? He's not gonna die?"

"No," Jason said with a certainty that didn't reach the coldness inside him or quiet the screaming. "No. He's not."

She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Jason? Are you—" He turned to look at her. He didn't know what she saw in his face, in his eyes, but she said, "Oh, God, Jason, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Kim," he said, not even sure what 'it' was anymore. He took another deep breath. "Go back out to the main road and wait for the paramedics. And Kim—be a little hysterical."

"What?"

"You're an airhead, remember? A seventeen-year-old mall rat who just saw one of her friends fall off a building. Try to be a little less—"

"Pink Ranger?" Kim didn't smile, but she nodded. "Okay, you're right, as usual. Here." She pulled off her sweater. "Put this on... him. What's taking them so long, anyway?" She was gone, running down the street as fast as she could, before he could answer.

Jason laid Kim's sweater over Billy's broken body and sat back on his heels. There was one more thing he needed to do, now that he was alone. It wasn't going to be easy, but he knew it had to be done, and he'd better do it while he was still in that cold place where even the blood on his hand, his best friend's blood, couldn't reach him. He touched the communicator. "Zordon? Come in, Zordon."

"Jason." Their mentor's voice sounded relieved.

"I don't know how much of that you could follow, since we were cut off from the Morphin Grid—"

"None of it. Alpha is getting a lock on you now. Have you defeated the Revenger?"

"He's toast," Jason said, and even that was only a mild satisfaction.

"You should return to the Command Center—"

"We can't," Jason interrupted. He didn't often, even usually, do that, but he could hear sirens in the distance and he had to hurry. "Billy's ... hurt. He's hurt bad."

"That is most distressing."

"Ay-yi-yi!" He could hear Alpha in the background but he didn't wait to see if anything else was forthcoming.

"He's not coming back in a couple of days, not from this. There's no way Zedd won't try to take advantage. We need to—" Jason faltered, swallowed, and finished, "we need to find someone to take Billy's place as the Blue Ranger. We won't be able to use the Megazord if we don't, or the Fighting-mode Dragonzord either. We need Triceratops for either of them..."

"You are correct, Jason. I will have Alpha begin searching for a new Blue Ranger at once."

"Yeah, great. I have to go, Zordon."

"Jason? Are you injured?"

"No. Nobody's hurt but Billy. But the paramedics are here." He cut the connection. He slid his hand under his friend's body, gently pulling the morpher away from the waistband of the khakis, trying not to jostle him. He held it, feeling the faint sizzle that meant it wasn't his; a shudder wracked his body, sudden and unexpected. He shoved the morpher into his pocket, trying to convince himself it was the right thing to do. He put his hand on Billy's arm, gently, and then unfastened the communicator from the slender wrist. The skin was cool under his fingers, the joint loose. "Sorry, bro," he said. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry..."

"He's down here!" Kim's voice preceded her and the two paramedics. Jason moved out of their way.

"Oh, my god," one of them said.

"What happened here?" the other, older one asked.

"He fell," Jason said simply. "He was talking to us and then he fell."

"Off the building, she said?"

"That one." Jason nodded. "We didn't move him."

"Good thing," the medic said. "Tim, hand me that cervical collar."

"What's his name?"

"Billy... Bill Cranston."

"Stay with us, Bill." The paramedic started taking vitals. Jason knew enough to be more scared with every word the man said into the radio, every answer he got back. Having an ER nurse for a mom had its drawbacks, he realized.

The other medic asked, "How old is he?"

Something in his tone made Jason understand that it wasn't the first time he'd asked. "Seventeen. Eighteen next week."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Jason said impatiently. "Take care of him."

"We are. They'll need his parents at the hospital. Do you know his phone number?"

"His father's out of town. My father has power of attorney for him. Detective Stone of the PD."

"You're Frank Stone's kid? What were you doing up there, anyway?"

Jason realized he'd failed after all, he hadn't thought about that question. Think.

"We were doing a science project," Kim said. "Pollution in the air. It makes the sunrise really red—omigosh, Jason!"

At her squeal, they all stared at her, though the paramedics went back to work instantly.

"We forgot the notebooks. On the roof. And Billy's camera!"

"Kim—"

"I'm gonna go get 'em. Jason, you know we can't leave Billy's camera up there!"

"Miss, I don't think—"

"It's nowhere near the edge." Kim took off for the entrance.

That was true enough, since it wasn't up there at all. She must be planning to teleport to the Cranstons' and pick up some props. Smart... he should have thought of that. Jason stood there, his arms wrapped around himself. He felt like his mind was shutting down. He was cold all over now, not just inside; now he felt cold. And scared.

"Are you all right?"

Jason jumped. He hadn't noticed Kim come back. She had Billy's Minolta slung over her shoulder and a couple of lab notebooks in her hand. He reached inside himself and somehow came up with an answer for her. "Yeah. You?"

"Not really, no. What are they doing, what's all that—?"

"They're trying to keep him from bleeding to death," Jason answered. He looked at her; she was wide-eyed and pale. He could hear his voice, calm and disinterested. As long as he had to talk to her, had to keep her from getting hysterical for real, he could keep it up, this facade of being in control.

"He's not... I mean, there's not that much..." Her voice trailed off.

"Internal bleeding," he said. "Especially around the spine—"

"Jason. Shut up." But she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shirt, so he didn't think she was really mad at him. And holding her kept the cold at bay. He rested his chin on her brown hair and tried to think of something to say.

Nothing would come.

"C'mon, out of the way, kids." The paramedics were moving with a controlled speed that was familiar to Jason, and somehow more frightening than panic would have been.

"Jason?" Kim pulled his attention away from them as they took their silent, unmoving patient past. "Are you all right to drive?"

"Yes." He pulled his keyring, with the spare to Billy's VW on it, out of his pocket and tried to remember where the car was parked. "Come on."

Jason stared at the phone for a minute, then dialed home. When his mother answered, he said, "Mom..."

"Jason? Are you and Billy not going to be home for dinner after all? Jason?" she asked again as he hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Jason? Is something wrong?"

"Mom." He swallowed. "Mom, there was an accident. Billy got hurt."

"Where are you, Jason?" Her voice sharpened.

"At the ER," he said. "They called Dad. I think. I told them about the power of attorney. I don't know where Mr. Cranston is—"

"Are you all right?" she said sharply.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"How badly hurt is Billy?" That sounded worried.

He wished he could say something helpful, reassuring. "I don't know, Mom. I think... really bad."

"Jason, what happened?"

He took a deep breath. The paramedics had bought it, maybe they had, but they weren't really interested parties. "We were helping Kim with a science project," he said, feeling the words take shape in the air between himself and the rest of the world, turning the lie into truth. "She's doing something about pollution. Billy was telling us about how the sunsets and sunrises are made more spectacular because of dirty air..." he let himself make the same half-fond, half-exasperated sound he would have made had it been real. "Anyway, we went up on top of the Kingsley Building to take pictures. Kim was going to take more tonight, tomorrow morning..." He cut himself off just as if the details he was giving were real. "Anyway, I don't know exactly what happened, Mom, I wasn't watching him, but suddenly... He fell off."

"Off the Kingsley Building?" she demanded. "That's four stories, Jason!"

"I know."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," he said. "It's only Billy who got hurt." Why did people make him keep saying that, he got it already.

"Is Kim there with you?"

"Yes."

"You two stay put," she ordered. "I'm coming right down. You think they called your father already?"

"I think so," he said. "They asked for Mr. Cranston's phone number, said they needed to get permission... I told them Dad has power of attorney for Billy."

"Good boy," she said. "Wait there. I'm on my way."

He hung up.

"Is she coming down here?" Kim asked.

"Yeah. Do you want to call your mom, Kim?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "She's not home, and she wouldn't come, anyway. I want to stay until we know something, anyway... Jason, come on. You need to sit down."

He followed her to the chairs area and sat down when she pushed him but he didn't take his eyes off the door behind which too many doctors and nurses were working on Billy.

"Jason," Kim touched his shoulder. "I'm going to call Trini, and Tommy, and leave a message on Rocky's machine. Will you be all right until I get back, or your parents get here?"

"I'm fine." That had to be the hundredth time he'd said that, to her, to nurses, his mother, even to the paramedics. What was wrong with everybody that they kept asking him that? He kept his voice as gentle as he could. "What about you?"

"I'm falling apart," she said candidly. "But if I'm doing something, I'm okay... I want Tommy to get here." She patted his shoulder. "Hang in there, Jase."

"What are you going to tell Rocky? He's gonna feel bad about this."

"I know," she said, shrugging. "It's not his fault. He's not even the same Black Ranger."

He looked around sharply but no one was close enough to hear.

"I'm just going to say that Billy got hurt, that's all. He shouldn't get bad news on an answering machine. Not really bad news. I'll be right back. Nobody's going to want to talk." She patted his shoulder again and walked off toward the pay phones, pulling change out of her purse.

He sat quietly, feeling the cold creeping back. Then he heard "William Cranston" drifting from the reception desk in a familiar voice. His father's...

"Dad?"

"Jason!" His father walked briskly over to him. "What happened, son?"

It was harder, looking into his father's eyes. "I don't know exactly. We were on the Kingsley Building roof, and Billy fell off. I don't know precisely. He must have tripped or something. I wasn't watching him, I was looking at the damned view." He was startled at the vehemence in his own voice.

His father had put his hand on his shoulder; now he tightened his grip comfortingly. "How are you?"

"If one more person asks me that I'm going to scream."

"Okay, son. Okay."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's all right. Don't worry about it. Did you call your mom?"

Jason nodded.

"Okay. I have to go fill out some paperwork. Wait here. Okay, Jase?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"I'm going to try and get Billy's dad on the phone." He looked at his watch. "He's probably not in his hotel, but I'll leave him a message to call us. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Kim came back right after that, dropping down in the seat next to his. "Tommy was home; Mrs. Oliver sounded kind of ticked off at him but he's coming. Trini said she was calling her parents and she'd be here as soon as she can." She bit her lip. "Jason, you know this is not your fault."

He didn't look at her.

"Jason," she tugged at his sleeve until he had to look at her. Her dark brown eyes were wide and worried. "There's nothing you could have done about this. Even Zordon didn't know he could, could unmorph us."

"Kim—"

She kept on talking. "And he kept on talking about the Black Ranger and then he went right after Billy. You couldn't have done anything."

"Kim, this isn't the place for this."

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But you can't just sit there blaming yourself!"

"I'm not."

"You are. You always do."

Jason heaved a sigh. "Kim, this really isn't the time or the place to talk about it."

"Kim! Jason!" That was Tommy's voice; the Olivers lived pretty close to the hospital but not that close. He must have broken the speed limit by a lot to be here so soon. Jason was glad to see him, though, and not only because Kim gave up trying to talk to him and ran to embrace her boyfriend. Tommy hugged her, hard, and looked at Jason over her head. "Any word yet?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, God," Tommy sat down, Kim next to him. "What did the paradmedics say?"

"Nothing," Jason said. "Not really."

"Jason," his father called. "Come over here, please."

"Good luck, buddy," Tommy said quietly as Jason got up.

"Yes, dad?"

"I don't know if you remember him, but this is Sgt. Mendoza," his father gestured at the man he was talking to. "He has a few questions for you."

"Your friend fell off the top of a four-storey building?"

"Yes. At least, Billy's not the jumping kind."

"I wasn't suggesting that. You and he were up there alone?"

Jason looked at his father, then back at the other cop. "No. Another one of our friends was with us, Kim Hart. We were helping her with a science project."

"Kim your girlfriend? Or his?"

"Actually, neither. Billy's not dating anybody right now, and I'm going out with Anna Myers. And Kim's dating Tommy Oliver. What does that have to with anything?"

"Nothing, apparently," Mendoza said pacifically. "Is that usual? Him helping you with projects?"

"It happens all the time," Jason said, on sure ground. "Billy's a straight A student without breaking a sweat. He's always helping us." For some reason, his voice trembled on that sentence.

"Are you all right? You don't look so good."

Jason gritted his teeth and said, through them, "I. Am. Fine."

His father put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy, Jase. Steve's got a job to do. And, Steve, Jason and Billy Cranston have been friends since fourth grade. Billy's spent a lot of time at our house, stayed a week at a time when his father's been gone. Jason's upset, but I'm sure he's telling you what he knows. Billy's always been a bit, well, accident prone."

"That can mean a lot of things, Frank."

"In this case, it means he was probably walking backwards and talking a mile a minute. He's a certified genius, but—"

"No walking around sense?"

"No coordination," Frank Scott said.

Mendoza took another look at Jason and nodded. "Okay. Looks pretty straightforward, Frank. Sorry to have bothered you now, Jason, but I'm sure you know how it is."

"Sure. No problem." He turned to his father. "Have they said anything to you yet?"

"I'm sorry, Jase. No. Nothing. I'll see if I can find out anything. Why don't you go back to your friends?"

He did, aware that his father was still talking to the sergeant. He sank into the empty chair and rested his head on the back of it.

"What did Mendoza want?" Tommy asked; trust him to know who the man was.

"Nothing. But it's a good thing you weren't on the scene."

They sat in silence until Linda Scott arrived. She looked around the ER waiting room and went straight to her son. "Jason. Has anybody looked at you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," he said dully.

"Yes, there is," she said, laying the back of her hand on his cheek. "You're in shock. Where's your sweatshirt?"

"I don't know. With Billy..."

Tommy pulled his off the back of his chair and handed it to her. "She's right, bro," he said seriously. "You look pretty bad."

Kim jumped up. "I'll see if I can find us some coffee," she said. "Come on, Tommy, you can help me carry it. Mrs. Scott, what do you take in yours?"

"Cream and sugar, thank you, Kimberly, and the same for Jason," she said. "Put this on, Jason, or I'll—"

"I'm not leaving, Mom. And I'm fine."

"Jason, you just saw your best friend get badly hurt; you're in shock. Put Tommy's sweatshirt on and drink the coffee when Kim brings it, or I'll get a doctor for you. I mean it."

It was too much trouble to argue. He pulled Tommy's dark green sweatshirt over his head and tugged it down. His mother sat in the chair Tommy had left and put her hand on his wrist. It was mothering, but he could tell she was taking his pulse. He pulled his arm away and ran his hand over his hair. "Mom, could you, you know, ask somebody something?"

"Sure, sweetheart," she said. "You stay here."

"I'll take out a lease," he said, but only after she'd pulled out her ID and pushed her way beyond the doors.

"Here, buddy," Tommy's voice broke through his weariness. "Drink this."

He didn't really want any coffee, he almost never drank it, but he knew his mother wasn't kidding. But the aroma that rose from the styrofoam cup wasn't bitter, it was rich and sweet. "Cocoa?"

"Yeah, well, your mom said cream and sugar, and Kim figured cocoa basically is milk and sugar, plus chocolate which never hurts, right?"

"Thanks, Tommy." He took a sweet swallow. "Where is Kim, anyway?"

"She went to the ladies' room. She wanted to wash her face."

Jason nodded. Several reviving swallows later, he was able to notice the shadows in his friend's dark eyes. "How are you, anyway?"

Tommy grinned wryly. "Is this my cue to bite your head off?" The grin faded. "I'll be a lot better if we get some good news. I figure, the longer he hangs on, the better."

"I know he wasn't morphed," Kim said; she'd come up while Tommy was talking. "But we heal a lot faster now. And most people wouldn't have survived. I'm hoping that when whatever that was that was cutting us off from the Grid went away, he, like, reconnected and it's helping."

"Man, I hope so," Tommy said.

The weight of the morpher in his pocket pulled on his mind. He'd had to. Hadn't he? Anyway, Billy was still connected. Zordon hadn't given the Coin to someone else. You didn't have to have the morpher actually on you... how long can we wait? Is this using it for personal gain? Jason sighed and finished the cocoa and Kim handed him another cup.

"Here. I think your mom's right; you are in shock. I mean, I got to break down and cry. You guys can't do that."

"I broke a lot of stuff while I was waiting for you to call," Tommy admitted.

Kim hugged him, then looked at Jason. "Where's your mom?"

"She went to find out something."

"Connections. Good."

"Where's Trini?" Jason realized. "Didn't she say she was coming?"

"She said she was. But she was all the way over at Stone Canyon, Jason, she might be a while yet."

"We'll still be here," he said.

"Listen," Tommy said, "I know I haven't known him as long as you guys, but he's tough. He can take a lot."

Kim jumped up. "Mrs. Scott, here's your coffee."

"Thank you." She narrowed her eyes at Jason but apparently she was satisfied with what she saw, because she merely took the lid off her coffee and drank. Then she said, "They took him up to surgery already. They've had a problem giving him blood for some reason, so they autotransfused—used his own blood, plus plasma. He broke a lot of bones, had some internal injuries, but he's holding on."

"But he's going to be all right?" Kim begged.

"Kimberly, I'm sorry. I can't tell you; they just don't know yet."

"The paramedics were worried about his spinal cord," Jason said.

"Oh, man, no." Tommy's voice was barely audible.

"It's possible," Mrs. Scott acknowledged. "We won't know for a while. Probably tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You're not serious."

"I'm sorry, Jason. Billy's injuries are very serious. The surgery is going to be long and complicated, and they'll have to wait for post-surgical swelling and trauma to go away... I'm sorry, Jason," she repeated.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the news or for telling it to him or the whole situation. Or even apologizing at all. He had noticed women had a wierd habit of saying they were sorry for something where a guy would say, impersonally, 'man this sucks'. Which meant they didn't think they were apologizing, so yeah well you oughta be or hey it's not your fault was often not the right way to answer them. So, since he didn't know what to say, he just didn't say anything at all.

He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, putting his face in his hands.

"Jason?" his mother asked.

He could feel her hand on his arm, Tommy's on his shoulder, Kim's rubbing his back. I'm so cold, he thought. I'm so scared. But he couldn't say it. He might have been able to to his mother, but Tommy and Kim were his team, his responsibility. So he rubbed his face and sat up. "Can we go upstairs?"

"Jason, you can't spend the night here," his mother said.

"It's Saturday," he said, prepared to argue it. But they were interupted by the arrival of Trini.

"Jason?" she said, hurrying up to them. "Tomm—oh, Mrs. Scott. I didn't see you. How is he?" Her usual calm was nowhere to be seen.

"We don't know yet," Jason said, standing up to hold his arms out to Trini. "He's hanging in there."

She hugged him, then stepped back to look up into his face. "But what happened? Kim said he fell?"

It was getting more real every time he said it. Pretty soon, he might be believing it. And wouldn't that be nice... "Yeah, from the Kingsley Building. I guess he got too close to the edge while he was talking."

Trini closed her eyes, hugging herself. "This can't be happening," she whispered.

Jason reached out and gathered her into an embrace. She clung to him.

"He's gonna be okay," said Kim, putting her own arms around them; Tommy joined in the hug as well. "Billy's tough, Tommy was just saying, he can take a lot."

"He's a fighter," Tommy agreed. "He won't quit on us."

He didn't know if they were saying it because they believed it or because they thought Trini needed to hear it. He wished he could do the former and he couldn't quite do the latter. Trini's distress was too close to his own; he couldn't lie to them both. "If it's up to him he'll stay with us," he said. He knew that much was true, at least.

In the end, Jason did spend the night at the hospital. After Tommy, reluctantly, took Kim and Trini home and went himself to what he wasn't yet comfortable calling his own, Jason and his mom got into it. She had a lot of reasonable arguments, from Billy wouldn't even know he was there, he wouldn't even be in the same room, to it wouldn't do anybody any good if he made himself sick. Jason didn't respond to any of them; he just dug his heels in and refused to leave. Frank Scott rejoined them just in time to hear his son say, in tones that signalled the end of his tether, "—and if you have me thrown out I'll just stay on the sidewalk."

"Nobody's throwing you out, son," Frank said, quietly, giving his wife a meaningful look over Jason's head. "If it'll make you feel better, you can stay. I'll stay for a while, too... but I think we should get something to eat right now."

Jason insisted he wasn't hungry, but he gave in to the compromise. According to every book Frank had ever read, the boy should have realized he was starving the minute he took his first bite. Instead, he obviously had to force down not only that one, but all of them, despite not having eaten since breakfast. And that, knowing him, not much besides a couple of bagels and some juice.

After they ate, the Scotts split up: Jason and Frank went upstairs to wait in the uncomfortable chairs in the small room off the surgeries, and Linda headed back to the ER, where she was working an eight-to-eight shift (another of her arguments had been that she could run up and check on Billy during her breaks). Frank was working the first shift this month, midnight to nine a.m., but he didn't think he'd get any more sleep if he went home, himself. Both he and his wife were worried about Billy, almost as much as Jason was. The boys had, as he'd told his fellow detective, been friends since they were ten, and Billy had spent a lot of time at their house, especially after his father, Edmund, had gotten the promotion that took him out of town on a regular basis. The Scotts had come to look on him almost as the second child they hadn't been able to have; they knew, too, how strong the bond was between the two boys. They also knew that Jason had a definite tendency to caretake, and that it was especially pronounced with Billy, not, Frank had often thought, all that strange considering the boys had met when Jason, always big for his age and already studying martial arts, had run off three bigger boys who'd been engaged in beating Billy up.

It was that caretaker streak in Jason that worried Frank now. Linda, too, he knew, though she, being a professional caretaker, tended to think that Jason could regulate his impulses as well as she could hers. And he couldn't. He hadn't any training for it, and he was only seventeen—he didn't regulate any of his emotions. Especially not the strong ones.

Frank looked over at his tall son. The boy was leaning back in his chair, his long legs in their faded black jeans sprawled in front of him, a traffic hazard to any passers-by. His arms were crossed over his chest, an unfamiliar dark green sweatshirt's cut-off sleeves contrasting oddly with the red, white, and black stripes of his shirt, and he was staring at the ceiling. No, Frank decided, Jason was staring and the ceiling happened to be in the way. His midnight eyes were unfocussed and filled with pain. Frank wanted nothing more than to reach over and wrap his son in his arms, soothing away his hurt and telling him everything would be all right. But he knew it was a hopeless desire: what worked with a seven-year-old no longer did ten years later. Somewhere along the way Jason had become too old to want it and too adult to believe it, even if he wasn't too old to need it.

Frank sighed to himself. He was suddenly realizing that Jason was a real person, all at once as strange as he was familiar, a complicated individual balancing between childhood and adulthood... still, always, dearly loved but no longer protectable. Frank's own caretaker instincts, why he'd become a cop in the first place, had kicked in when he'd seen Billy being taken up to surgery; now they were reinforced by his paternal instincts, his desire to take care of his children, his son and his surrogate son both. His need to do that. And yet, he couldn't. Not anymore. Not either of them. What they needed was beyond his ability.

At least Billy was in good hands. Jason... Frank sighed again. When did you turn into this responsible person? he thought. When did your simple child's emotions get so complex, so murky, so adult? When did you give half your heart to Billy Cranston? That last thought, arriving so unexpectedly, startled Frank. He didn't want to examine it too closely, but he knew in its essence it was true. If they lost Billy, Jason would never be the same.

Frank hadn't prayed outside of church in a long time. But he prayed now.

(2)

Jason dragged himself out of bed early Monday. It had been nearly three before he'd finally fallen asleep; though he'd been tired, he'd kept waking up from dreams of trying to stop Revenger from getting his paws on Billy... sometimes on the whole team, leaving him the only one standing, all alone on the Kingsley Building roof. The dreams hadn't stopped, he'd just finally been too exhausted to wake from them. He was still tired. He showered, called the hospital—with no success—and went downstairs. He wasn't particularly hungry, so he engaged in the minor deception of leaving a rinsed-out glass and cereal bowl in the sink. Then he packed his books in his backpack and teleported to Billy's bedroom to get his Power Coin and then to the Command Center.

"Zordon?" He dropped his backpack on the floor near the Viewing Globe and waited for their mentor to appear.

"Jason!" That was Alpha, coming in from one of the back rooms. "Jason, how is Billy?"

"I'm sure you know as much as I do," he answered. "The hospital isn't saying anything."

"We are sorry this happened, Jason, but I must admit I'm pleased with how well you reacted to this event." Zordon had arrived.

"I'm sure you are," Jason said. "I'm sorry," he added. "I know you can't care like I do, and I know you do care. But I'm not in the mood to be told how well I'm handling this. Please, Zordon. Let's just do what we have to. Did you come up with any candidates?"

"Finding a new Ranger is always a difficult task, even when the original one is merely leaving for one reason or another. But when it is necessary, there is often little time. Therefore we maintain a list of possible candidates at all times."

"Okay, that's good. Who's at the top?"

There was a brief pause, and then Zordon said, quietly. "Your team has fought to defend your planet for more than three years, and this is the first time you have been forced to replace someone. That, Jason, is an astonishing record, and one you should be tremendously proud of."

That caught Jason's attention. "Really?"

"Yes, Jason. Your team has been remarkably successful, and remarkably cohesive. I am sorry for that reason if no other to have to introduce a new member into it: it is very unusual for a team to function as well as yours does. Your team has not only met every physical challenge, but every psychological one as well. You cover each other's weaknesses on all fronts, and you never give up on one of your own. Even when you were faced with Rita's evil Green Ranger, your instinct was to save one whom you believed should be one of you... I am very proud of all of you."

"Thanks, Zordon," Jason said. "That does mean a lot. Probably later it'll mean more. Right now I... I can't look at it like that."

"But you are looking at it like the leader of the team," Zordon said. "You are doing what you must, regardless of your feelings. I am especially proud of you." Then, before Jason had to think of something to say, he continued, "The first name on our list is Adam Park."

"Adam..." that name sounded familiar to Jason as he turned to look at—behold—the Viewing Globe. He saw a slender, good-looking Asian kid stripping off while he yawned. "Oh, come on, Alpha," he protested. "File footage, please!"

"File footage?" Alpha repeated.

"I don't want to watch him take a shower, for crying out loud," Jason said.

"Ay-yi-yi," Alpha muttered as he punched something on the panel and the picture switched to a still-shot of Adam Park, smiling at someone or something out of the picture. "Is that better, Jason?"

"Much, thanks." It raised questions he had no desire to go into, though... "I know him," he said. "I've seen him at school, at the dojo... he'll be good. He's a friend of Rocky's. That'll be good, too."

"Yes," Zordon said. "It will be easier to integrate him into the team if he and Rocky are already friends."

"They are. Rocky said they've known each other since forever... he's a good choice. Let's try him first."

"Very well, Jason. How do you wish to approach him?"

"Well, the grab-him-off-the-street-and-bring-him method is a little pushy, don't you think?" Jason was remembering their own introduction to Zordon. With no preparation, the only one of them who had been unfazed had been Billy, and that was simply because he'd been too busy marvelling to be scared. Jason himself had been wary; he'd felt like bodily removing Billy from the premises, shooing the others ahead of him. And then Zordon had appeared, and Jason had somehow known that everything he was hearing was true. His worry for the others had vanished, and he'd wanted to say yes, but had had to stick with the group when Rocky and Kim had rejected it all, and Trini had gone along with them. He and Billy had, for their different reasons, left reluctantly, and Jason had been arguing for them to go back and accept the responsibility when Rita had attacked them and they'd been forced to morph the first time in simple self-preservation, and there'd been no looking back for any of them. But Adam might react more like Rocky than not, and in any case, there was no excuse for not at least trying to prepare him. "I mean, this place can be kind of a shock, and we don't want him getting angry at us. We can approach him personally. We can bring him here after school. Plus, I should run him past the team, make sure nobody has a problem with him."

"Very well, Jason. You are the leader. But don't take too much time."

"I know. You can grab him if we need him today, right?"

"As we did you the first time."

"Okay. I'll talk to the team at lunch and we'll bring Adam here after school. If I have to, I'll call you for the second choice. But I'd better go now."

In fact, when Jason found Rocky before classes started—Rocky, being a junior, had no classes with any of the other Rangers—he was with Adam. When he saw Jason coming down the hall, though, he slapped his friend on the shoulder and came to meet the senior. "Jason, any news?"

"Nothing yet. Rocky—"

"I cannot believe it," Rocky interrupted him. "I tried to call you, but you weren't in, so I called Tommy. He said—" he glanced around and dropped his voice "—the guy was after me?"

Damn. "No, not really. Not unless you were around a couple of thousand years ago."

"Okay, not me me, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah. He was."

"Dios," said Rocky, his use of Spanish a sure sign of his agitation. He almost never spoke it outside of his family or his church. "He's going to be okay, Jason. God wouldn't take Billy like this."

"I hope you're right. Look, we need to meet at lunch. We have to talk."

"Okay. See you then."

Jason was in first period, English, with Kim and Tommy, and it was easy to get them for the meeting. Kim was in PE with Trini third period, the first time any of them were in one of her classes before the afternoon—she and Billy were in two AP courses together first thing in the morning—and Kim promised Jason to get Trini and meet the boys outside the cafeteria. Jason spent the morning paying almost no attention to anything that happened in any of his classes. Fortunately his teachers were inclined to cut him some slack; the whole school had heard about the accident.

He headed straight for the pay phone next to the cafeteria as soon as his last class of the morning was over. "I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist said, "there's been no change. William Cranston is still listed as critical—"

"How can there be no change?" Jason said. "I'm sorry, but—it's been more than a day."

"Sir," she said kindly, "that's really not very long at all. All I can say is, keep calling."

"What about visitors?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Immediate family only."

Jason hung up and walked slowly outside. 'Immediate family' was, of course, Billy's dad, who'd finally gotten back to Angel Grove Sunday afternoon. He had come straight to the hospital, where Jason was still waiting. Looking Billy's dad in the eye—although he was actually even a couple of inches shorter than Billy—and telling him the story had been the hardest thing yet. He had wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to make Mr. Cranston proud of Billy; instead he had to tell him that his son had somehow managed to fall off a building. Worried grey eyes had stared back into his, and then Mr. Cranston had hesitantly put his hand on Jason's arm and told him, "I know you're hurting over this, Jason. Please don't. It can't have been your fault."

Jason hadn't been able to think of anything to say.

Mr. Cranston had sighed, removed his hand and run it through his thinning brown hair, and said, "You're a very good friend to him, Jason. I appreciate that, and I know he does, too." And then he'd gone into the ICU, walking very slowly.

Now Jason spared a few moments to think about Billy's dad. He knew his own parents were worried about him; he'd heard them talking Sunday before his father had dragged him home. Mr. Cranston had never gotten over losing his wife, Billy's mom; Jason had never known him any way other than subdued, nor had his parents, but a couple of times Billy had told him stories which featured his dad as someone, well, alive.

Man, he wanted to tell Mr. Cranston the truth...

"Jason, over here!" That was Kim, and a good thing, too, since he'd lost track of where he was. He'd only gotten about three hours of sleep, and less the night before; it was starting to tell on him. He'd probably pass out when he got home. He shook his head, hard, to wake himself up. Better get on with it.

He joined the other four in the shade of one of the eucalyptus trees. Trini looked like she hadn't gotten much more sleep than he had; the others looked better, but only relatively so. Rocky, the only one who hadn't actually seen Billy, was the most upbeat, and the one who asked, "What's up, Jason?" as he settled onto the grass.

He glanced around, but they'd picked a spot far enough away from anyone else. "Zordon says we need to replace Billy," he said baldly. He'd been thinking all morning and hadn't come up with a way to ease into it, so he'd decided not even to try.

"What?" Trini demanded.

"He can?" Tommy asked, more reasonably.

Jason nodded. "He says they usually do it a lot. Replace people. All they have to do is find another candidate and give him the Coin."

"Omigosh. Did that go to the hospital?"

Jason shook his head. "No, I took the morpher, and his communicator, too, before the paramedics showed up. I've been hanging on to them."

Two pairs of dark brown eyes rested on him worriedly, but though Tommy nodded supportively neither he nor Kim said anything. Speculation aside, no one knew if Billy's connection to the Power was helping him stay alive or not. And they had to have someone fighting Triceratops...

Trini was giving him a burning look. "This is Zordon's idea?"

"No," Jason said. "I mean, he says we have to, but I knew it before I talked to him."

"We do," Rocky said. "Trini, we can't fight either Megazord without Triceratops."

"Right," said Tommy. "You could do without me, again, or even without Jason if I was here, 'cause the Fighting-mode Dragonzord doesn't need T-Rex... but the rest of the Zords are all needed."

"We need a Blue Ranger. We can't just ask Zedd to hold off 'cause we're a man short, and we can't forfeit the meet, either," said Kim. "It stinks, but you know we have to."

"So, did you pick someone?" Trini conceded the point.

"I went to the Command Center this morning. Zordon said they always have a list of possible replacements, you know, just in case."

"So," Trini asked, "who'd you pick?"

"I didn't pick anybody," Jason said. "I wanted to ask you guys what you thought."

"Since when?"

"Trini, let up a little," Kim said sharply.

She huddled her yellow fleece jacket around her. "He's just so... bossy."

"Never mind," Kim turned to Jason. "You and Zordon and everybody else are right. If Zedd attacked today, we'd be in a lot of trouble. I'm pretty surprised he hasn't."

"Yeah," Tommy said. "I guess he didn't have anything ready. So who's the first candidate? Anybody we know?"

Jason accepted the intervention gratefully, especially as Trini didn't seem inclined to say anything else. 'Bossy' rankled a bit, but he knew that nobody was at their best right now and there wasn't any point in pursuing it. Especially since there was, well, more than a little truth in it. "Yeah," he answered Tommy. He looked at Rocky. "Your friend, Adam Park."

"Adam? Cool," said Rocky. "He'll be good. He's smart and he's a good martial artist, too."

"He's that Korean guy who works out with you sometimes?" asked Tommy. Unlike Jason, he had focussed strictly on the Japanese martial arts; all the Tae Kwan Do he knew he'd picked up since moving to Angel Grove, and he wasn't ready to spar with the Red Ranger just yet.

"That's him."

"He's a good fighter," Tommy nodded.

"He's a nice guy," Rocky added. "You guys will like him... and I can't wait to let him know why I had to stop spending so much time with him. We've known each other since second grade."

"Zordon said that was one of the reasons he was number one," Jason said. "It would be easier to integrate him into the team if he was friends with one of us already. And I've worked out with him."

"I don't know him," Kim said. "I mean, I think I know who he is, it's not like AGHS has a lot of Koreans, so I'm sure I'm thinking of the right guy. But if you and Zordon think he's the best choice, I guess he probably is."

"Well, who was second choice?" Tommy asked.

"I didn't ask," Jason admitted. He expected what he got—Rocky and Tommy nodded, Kim snickered, and Trini muttered "bossy" under her breath. "I thought it would be better if we didn't know," he explained.

"You're probably right," Tommy said. "So, it's Adam?"

"Unless somebody can't work with him." He looked around the group. "You know how important this is."

"Well," Kim shrugged, "we didn't vote on us, and we worked out."

"And we didn't really vote on Tommy, either," said Rocky.

"He was already a Ranger, though," protested Kim.

"Yeah, an evil Ranger," Rocky said irrepressibly. "No offense, Tommy."

"It's okay," the long-haired boy said. "It's true."

"And we didn't vote, that's all I'm saying. Jason, you knew we needed him, and you were right."

Kim nodded; she'd moved closer to Tommy when Rocky had brought up his past. Now she smiled and said, "I agree."

Trini looked at Jason without saying anything. Jason held her dark eyes with his; he knew as well as if she'd said so that she was remembering it was Jason's unilateral decision to ask Tommy to join them. They'd all known they had to stop him, and all wanted to save him, but it was Jason who had, spur of the moment, said to him, "You own the Power now. Fight by our side and we can defeat Rita. Tommy, we need you. It's where you belong." Billy had seconded him on the spot, but after the fact... It had, obviously, worked out, but it hadn't been a vote.

"Tommy?" he asked, ducking Trini for the moment.

"Sure."

"Me, too," said Trini. "He's fine. What happens when Billy comes back?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Jason said. "He won't be back this week, or next." If he's back at all.

Tommy interrupted that thought. "So, we don't shanghai him, do we, like Zordon did you guys? I'm assuming he gets a choice."

"Yeah," Jason said. "We got drafted, and you got kidnapped, but Adam gets a choice. I thought we'd talk to him after school, sound him out, take him to the Command Center if he's agreeable, and put it to him there."

"That sounds reasonable," Trini said.

"Can you get him to Ernie's, Rocky?" Jason asked.

"After school? Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure I can. We've got classes together this afternoon."

"Okay, then. Ernie's, after school."

Rocky jumped to his feet. "Okay, guys. I'll see you then."

"Me, too," said Trini, following him.

Jason started to stand up, but before he could, Kim pushed on his shoulder to keep him there. "Don't mind Trini too much, Jason," she said, putting her arms around him. "She's just very upset. She's lashing out and you, well, you make a good target for that 'cause you're strong."

"And in the way," Tommy added. "Kim's right, bro. Trini'll settle down. You'll see."

"Am I?" he asked, wondering about it. "Bossy?"

"No," she said. "Not bossy. Just... My dad used to say there's a big difference between being bossy and being boss. You're not bossy. But you do take charge."

Tommy nodded agreement. "You always have, ever since I met you and probably way before that. It's not a bad thing, Jason. It's just... Anytime anything goes wrong you think you should have been able to prevent it."

"Isn't that what being in charge means?" He was surprised at how bitter his voice sounded.

"No." Kim sounded surprised. "Being in charge means trying to prevent it, but, Jason, not even God can stop things going wrong. And you're not God." She hugged him again, and Tommy reached over and gripped his shoulder.

"Nothing you could have done, bro," he said simply. "It just happened."

"I should have been—"

"No, you shouldn't," Kim took his chin in her surprisingly firm grasp and shook it slightly. "You should not. Don't do this to yourself. It was beyond any of us, you included."

"Yeah," Tommy seconded. "You did all you could. Neither one of us saw it coming. None of us did. Even Zordon didn't know he could cut us off from the Grid."

"I know all of that," Jason said. "I just..."

"Don't believe it?" Tommy said.

"I guess."

"You better," Kim threatened him. "You're the best leader we could have. Zordon says they usually have to replace lots? I bet you're the main reason why they haven't with us."

"It's the whole team, that's what Zordon said," Jason protested.

"So," Kim said impishly, "stop taking our blame."

"I don't—"

"You do," said Tommy.

"Something else you always have," Kim nodded. "Plus always being really hyperprotective of Billy."

Jason couldn't answer that. He didn't think "hyperprotective" was accurate, but he knew he always took that extra second to check on Billy. Always had. God willing, always would.

"I didn't know him before," Tommy said. "I mean, I know he's only middling as a fighter, but he doesn't need a whole lot of protection now. This was a fluke. It could have been any of us, Jason."

"Yeah, a couple of years ago, maybe you could take blame for not watching out for him," Kim said, "but you know he can pretty much take care of himself now, Jason."

"Thanks, guys," Jason said, looking from Kim to Tommy.

"Any time," said Tommy, "but I hope we don't have to do this again."

"Me, too."

"We'd better get going," Tommy said, standing up. "Old man Carlson might cut us a little slack, but not if we aren't there at all."

"Hey, Adam!" Rocky trotted down the hallway towards his oldest friend's locker. "Wait up!"

Adam turned and waited for him. They hadn't seen each other since they walked to school that morning, but had their next two classes together. "Hi, Rocky," he said.

"Hey, man," said Rocky, shifting his books from hand to hand. "You want to go over to Ernie's this afternoon?"

"Just us?" Adam was surprised; that morning, all Rocky could talk about was Billy Cranston's accident. He'd have thought he was going to be with his other friends.

Rocky shifted his books again. He was nervous about something, Adam realized. "Uh, no. I'd like you to get to know some people."

"Who? That bunch of seniors you hang out with?" Adam shut his locker. He and Rocky lived on the same street and had been best friends from second grade until junior high, when suddenly Rocky had become very tight with a different group of kids, all a year ahead of the two boys. It wasn't as though Rocky had suddenly dropped him—in fact, it had taken most of seventh grade for it to happen, and he hadn't dropped him exactly even then, but when Adam came back to Angel Grove after vacation before eighth grade it was noticeable: they weren't spending every weekend and most afternoons together anymore. And when Rocky embraced basketball, becoming Angel Grove High's best player in probably ever, Adam had found himself third on Rocky's list—fourth, if you counted his family—with a lot of spare time, time he'd filled with schoolwork mostly, so that his parents were rather more pleased than not that their son and the de Santos boy were growing apart as they grew up. But Adam couldn't help but be a little hurt that Rocky was nearly always "out with the guys, sorry" when Adam called.

"Yeah," Rocky nodded now. "But they're really great."

"Sure," Adam said as he closed his locker.

"Come on, you like Jason."

"Jason Scott's okay," Adam conceded. "A bit bossy, but I guess that's only natural when you're someone like him." Which was to say, quintessential BMOC: quarterback, martial arts champion of the tri-country—heck, deca-county area, solid student, tall, handsome... It was really no wonder Rocky liked hanging with him. "But Tom Oliver is a little spooky, you have to admit that."

Rocky had smiled at the description of Jason, but sobered to say, "Tommy has a bad reputation, that's all. He's a great guy."

"If you say so... the only one I'd really like to get to know won't even be there."

Rocky paled a little. Adam was sorry he'd said it; much as it annoyed him, he knew Rocky really did like all his new friends. And, he sighed to himself, they weren't really that new anymore. Rocky had been hanging out with them for more than four years now.

"I'm sorry. I mean that, about Billy I mean. Is there any news?"

"No. Jason called the hospital at lunch. No change, they said. He's still critical."

Which just made it odder, Adam reflected as they entered the classroom and took their seats. Although Mr. Davidson had alphabetized seating, Rocky and Adam sat next to each other thanks to Rocky's insisting on using the 'S' instead of the 'd'. Looking at his brown-haired friend as he sat slumped in his chair, Adam wondered why he wanted to bring someone new to the group at a time like this. Knowing Rocky, he'd always discounted the rumors that the six of them were involved in something kinky—details always vague. Adam didn't think the Hispanic boy would recognize kink if it walked up and spoke to him, and he was sure if it introduced itself, Rocky would run. But now he found himself actually wondering about it. Some sort of something that needed six?

Chemistry intruded itself on speculation, and when Rocky repeated the invitation as they headed for last period, Adam found himself accepting. He'd never had a big group of friends before, but he would be glad to be spending more time with Rocky. He'd missed him.

Adam called his mother to let her know he'd be home later than expected—he always did that, though he didn't have to ask permission. Rocky, whose family just expected him to show up for supper, waited while his friend called; Adam thought Rocky might actually be worried he was going to change his mind. He found himself smiling as they walked to the gym & juice bar. It was nice to be wanted, for whatever reason.

The four seniors were sitting on the grass behind the parking lot outside the gym rather than waiting inside. Kim Hart, whom Adam remembered as a slightly snooty cheerleader from junior high, but who had dropped that in favor of the gymnastics team, was, as usual, sitting with Tom Oliver, his arm around her shoulders. But while she was the height of pop in her pink skorts and white, midriff-baring blouse, he looked tough. Not punk-tough, jock-tough: his dark green sweatshirt had cut-off sleeves, and he wore grey sweatpants, his long hair caught in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Trini Kwan, neatly put-together in yellow and black, had her hand on Jason Scott's black-jeans-clad knee, but they didn't look like an item; rather she seemed to be trying to convince him of something. In fact, Tom and Kim were both also listening to her, though it was hard to tell if they were on her side.

"Hey, guys," said Rocky.

Jason stood up, sliding away from Trini rather gratefully. "Hi," he said to Adam, holding out his hand. "I don't know if you remember me, we met last year at the tournament over in Stone Canyon?"

"Sure, I remember you," Adam said, wondering if Jason Scott really thought somebody wouldn't. But Jason looked, as Rocky's uncle would say, like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet; he obviously wasn't hitting on all cylinders today. It wasn't surprising; he and Billy Cranston, though they seemed to have nothing in common, were, according to Rocky, very close, almost like brothers. Closer, Rocky would add on days when his own brothers were getting on his nerves.

"You know everybody else, right?" Rocky said now, "Kim, Trini, Tommy." He sat down next to Tommy and added, "Pull up some grass, Adam, have a seat."

Adam sat down between Rocky and Jason, who sat down slowly, like he'd taken some bad hits. Maybe he had, Adam thought as he listened to the older boy answer Rocky's next question.

"No. Nothing new. Mom talked to the ICU nurse, they know more than the doctors. He's hanging on."

"It'll be all right," Rocky said. "It has to be."

"Yeah." Jason cut the discussion off, but his eyes—really black eyes, Adam realized, as dark as his own, unusual for a European—were still full of pain. But when he spoke, he was brisk and as take-charge as Adam had heard. "So, Adam, did Rocky say anything?"

"No," Adam said. "Just that he wanted us to get to know each other."

"I'd like that," Jason said, "but we really don't have a lot of time. So—"

"What's going on?"

"I'm going to tell you," Jason said. "But first, I have to get your promise that, whatever you decide about what we tell you, you won't tell anyone else. Ever."

Adam looked at him; he was deadly serious. If Adam didn't say 'yes', they weren't going to continue. He looked around the circle; everyone else was as serious as Jason, and that included Rocky. Adam hadn't realized Rocky could even be this serious. It was oddly impressive. But... "Is it something illegal? Because my dad's a policeman."

"So's mine," said Jason. "I think they know each other. It's not illegal."

"Not per se, anyway," said Trini. "It's more extra-legal."

"What does that mean?" said Adam cautiously.

"It means it's not illegal," said Rocky. "It's a good thing, Adam. Trust me on that much, okay?"

"All right," he said slowly. "I'll keep your secret. What is it?"

"It'll be a lot easier to show you than to try to explain it," said Jason, standing up. "Okay?"

"Is it far?"

"It won't take long to get there," Tommy said, getting to his feet and giving Kim a hand up. "Just a couple of minutes."

"Okay." Adam stood up.

Trini reached out and took his hand. He looked at her puzzledly, but before any wild ideas could really take shape, she smiled and said, "Just hang on, Adam." Then she reached her other hand out and took hold of the bulky wristwatch she wore—

cold, speed, Trini's hand warm on his, dizziness

—and then suddenly ground beneath his feet again. The only reason he didn't fall down was because Jason and Tommy both put out their hands and steadied him. He stared around himself, not believing what he was seeing.

"What happened?" Adam said, shaking off Jason and Tommy's hands. "Where are we?" His voice wasn't panicked; Jason found himself nodding approval.

"Greetings, Adam!" Alpha entered the Command Center.

Adam spun around. "What is that?"

"A fully sentient multifunctional automaton," Kim and Rocky said in unison; Rocky added, "Magnificent!" and the two of them laughed so hard Jason joined in, unable to help it.

"You mean a robot?" Adam said, looking at them suspiciously.

"Yes. With artificial intelligence," Trini said, glaring at the three.

"I've never seen anything like it," Adam said.

The others had started to calm down, but that set them off again, as Rocky gasped "Wow" and grabbed Jason to keep from falling over. Kim tried to say something, but all she could do was gasp and wave her hand back and forth, and Rocky was cracking up every time he looked at Kim or Jason. Much as he hated it, Jason wasn't any more able to stop.

"What did I say?" Adam demanded of Trini, who was the only one who looked like she was capable of answering; clearly she got the joke but didn't think it was funny, and Tommy was obviously as lost as Adam.

"They aren't laughing at you," she said. "Not really... guys—" Her voice turned worried as the others didn't seem to be able to stop. She turned concerned eyes towards Tommy.

"Kim," he said, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry," she said, and then suddenly she was crying. Tommy hugged her, and she pulled herself together almost immediately. "Sorry," she said again.

"Yeah, man," said Rocky, burying his face in Jason's red-flannel shoulder for a minute. "Sorry."

Jason repeated it, holding up his hand. "Sorry, yes, it's just—"

"It's exactly what he said the first time," said Rocky, "what we said, then what you said. Oh, man, Adam, sorry."

"What who said?" Adam asked, looking at them.

"Billy," Jason said, taking several deep breaths and regaining his control. It was a lot more precarious than he'd thought, more than he wanted to show anyone. "It's what he said the first time he saw Alpha... That's his name, Alpha-Five."

"I am pleased to meet you, Adam," Alpha interjected at this point.

"Same here, I guess... are there four others?"

"No." That thought sobered Jason and Rocky both. "He's, like, version five," Rocky added.

"Of what?" Adam demanded. "What is this place? And what is that?"

They didn't need to turn around to know what he meant. "This is the Command Center," Jason answered him, "and that's Zordon. He's our mentor."

"Command Center of what? And what do you mean, mentor? This makes no sense." The slender Korean looked around and then settled his gaze on Rocky, the one he knew best. "Rocky de Santos, what is going on here?"

Rocky shrugged. "Well, I know this is gonna sound weird, but... we're the Power Rangers."

Silence for several minutes, then: "Power Rangers? You—you guys? You are the Pow—Billy Cranston was a Power Ranger?"

"Indeed," said Zordon, "Billy was the Blue Ranger, and he served with honor. But now he can no longer fulfill the responsibilities of that position. I have selected you, Adam Park, courageous and intelligent, to be his replacement."

Adam didn't react to the end of that statement; he was apparently still having trouble with the first part of the concept. "How could Billy be a Power Ranger? I've seen him in the gym! You guys—" he gestured at Jason, Rocky, Tommy, and Trini "—you could be. And I've never seen you do anything but gymnastics. But Billy—"

Jason said, as calmly as he could, "Billy's been a Ranger as long as, well, from the beginning. Three years now." He paused, looking for the right words and pushing down the strong impulse to defend Billy. "Adam, when you're morphed—that means, changed into the fighting mode of being a Ranger—you get the armor and the weapons, but you also get the knowledge of how to use them, and skills in fighting. Thanks for the compliment, but not even Tommy and me are as good as the Red and Green Rangers in hand-to-hand."

"Right," Tommy said.

"You always wondered why Billy kept taking lessons when he didn't enjoy it," Rocky added. "Now you know."

The rest of Zordon's statement caught up to Adam. "Wait a minute," he protested. "You want me—I'm supposed to be a Power Ranger?"

"Yes, Adam," said Zordon. "You have been selected to be the next Blue Ranger."

"Until Billy's back." That was almost but not quite a question.

"Yes," Jason said, though frankly he doubted that was going to happen. But it might. He added, "For as long as... well, as long as it takes."

"We have to be up to strength," Rocky said. "We need you to come off the bench, Adam."

"You're serious." The younger boy stared at them all. "Trini? This isn't a joke?"

"Nobody here is this good at special effects, Adam," the Chinese girl reassured him. "It's real. We are the Power Rangers, and we need you."

"Adam Park, Power Ranger—man, my father is going to have a fit. He really doesn't trust them—you," he corrected himself. "Us."

"You can't tell him," Jason said. "We have three rules we have to live by: don't use the power for personal gain," he counted them off on his fingers, "don't escalate a conflict, and don't reveal our identities. To anyone."

"Your parents don't know?" He paused as they shook their heads. "Billy's dad doesn't know? Did he get hurt in a fight? Falling off a building, I mean, I wondered, but—"

Jason nodded. Tommy said, soberly, "We've all gotten knocked around, banged up. A couple of times some of us have gotten really jolted. Being morphed really helps, plus we heal faster. Billy wasn't morphed when he got hurt."

"It's not the safest job in the world," Rocky said irrepressibly. "But it's the most important."

"We save the world; it's what we do," Kim added with a bright smile.

"You guys have been the Rangers the whole time?"

"They are an excellent team," Zordon said. "And you are needed."

"Wow... Okay. I'm in. Where do I sign?"

Jason smiled. "Here." He handed Adam the Blue morpher and communicator. "The Blue Power Coin, there inside the morpher? That's the thing that makes you a Ranger. Don't lose it. You might want to put it someplace else after you've used it the first time, bonded with the Power. The morpher can be replaced, the Coin can't. And if somebody else gets ahold of it, especially someone who knows what it is... that's Bad."

Adam nodded. He understood.

"Okay," Jason continued. "Your Dinozord is Triceratops. You hold the morpher out like this—" he demonstrated with his own and Adam mimicked the motion "—and call out the name. Then you morph; it just happens, don't worry. You don't need to know how it works the first time. You come fourth, after Tommy, Rocky, and Kim. Want to give it a shot?"

"Sure." Adam said, watching curiously as the others pulled their morphers out.

Jason could tell the new Ranger was burning with the same question he, Rocky, and Tommy had often debated: just where did Trini and, especially, Kim keep theirs? But like them, he knew better than to ask. "Okay, guys," Jason said in familiar ritual. "It's Morphin' time!"

"Dragonzord!"

"Mastodon!"

"Pterodactyl!"

"Triceratops!" Adam came in, maybe a beat late and it was definitely odd to hear his voice...

"Sabretooth Tiger!" Trini's voice was a trifle shaky.

"Tyrannosaurus!" He hoped he'd held his steady. He looked at the Blue Ranger. It was funny, he thought; just like Zordon had said, to all outward appearances it was the same Blue Ranger as it had always been and yet, somehow, Jason could tell it wasn't Billy. He shoved that thought aside and asked, "How does it feel?"

"Cool," said Adam.

"Welcome, Blue Ranger," said Zordon.

"Congratulations, Adam!" Alpha added. "I know you'll do well."

"I hope so. I can't believe it."

"I know the feeling," said Rocky, and Tommy nodded.

"Zordon," Jason said, "I'll explain the ground rules to Adam, but we need to get back to Angel Grove."

"I understand, Jason. I too am concerned for Billy."

"Adam, to unmorph, you just want it." When they were back to normal, Jason said, "Your communicator? It's got a watch in it, but here—" he touched his own "—to talk, and here to teleport."

"Make sure you know where you're going," Rocky said.

"Voice of experience," teased Kim. "You don't want to end up in the middle of Ernie's—"

"—or worse," interpolated Trini.

"Very funny. It beeps if someone's calling," Rocky said. "Like one of those cute cellulars."

Adam pulled his old watch off and slid the communicator onto his wrist. "How do I set it?"

"It taps into the Command Center's teleportation grid," said Jason. "Just know where you want to go."

"This is very... intuitive, isn't it?" Adam said. "I'm not sure I understand it."

"Nobody understands it," Trini said quietly. "Don't worry about it."

"Just, like the ad says, do it." Kim smiled at him. "Let's go for smoothies!"

"Okay," Jason agreed. "Remember where we left from, Adam?"

"Wow. This is amazing," Adam said as they took their seats in Ernie's. "How long did it take you guys to get used to it?"

"Four years?" guessed Tommy.

"I thought you said... oh. You're still not?"

"Not to all of it," Tommy answered. "But we pretty much know the ropes, so any questions you have, just ask."

"Okay..." He laughed. "Honestly, the only thing I can think of is—and this might be dumb, but I have to know—Why do you call them Dinozords?"

"Zordon told us, 'Their powers are drawn from the ancient creatures you know as dinosaurs'," Trini quoted.

"Yes, but—"

"We know," Rocky interrupted.

Tommy laughed. "They're not. Right. Billy complained about that, too. Only two of them are dinosaurs."

"Three," said Kim. She always did.

"No," Jason joined in; Billy had said it so often that first year he'd actually memorized it. "The Dinosauria are an order of Mesozoic terrestrial reptiles while the Pterosauria are an order of Mesozoic flying reptiles, very different."

"Like birds and lizards," said Rocky. "Or something."

"And mastodons and sabretooth tigers," Jason continued, "are not only mammals but from the Pleistocene and co-something with people—"

"And dragons are mythical," finished Tommy. "So sue us, we didn't make it up."

"Didn't make up what?" said Ernie, sneaking up and starting to hand smoothies around.

"The plot of 'Dragonheart'," said Trini. "Which I liked, even if it was improbable."

"You just like Sean Connery," accused Rocky. "Don't you? Even if it's just his voice."

The others ignored them; this was such a continual argument it was easy. Ernie put Jason's smoothie down and asked, "Any word?"

"No," Jason shook his head. He looked up at the proprieter and said, "There's no news, I called an hour ago. And no visitors, except family... my mom's going to look in on him. We'll let you know."

"Do that, Jason. Thanks... It's funny. He hasn't been coming in here even half as long as the rest of you, but..." the man shrugged. "Who's going to drink my spinach juice now?"

"It's not like it's going to go bad, is it?" Tommy asked. "He'll be back."

"Sure," Ernie said.

Jason looked up at him again; the man had the same look as his parents, as Billy's dad, the teachers all day... that adult look of knowing people died. He looked around the table and realized that none of the others knew that. Except maybe Tommy, but he was refusing to admit it. For a minute Jason indulged himself in wishing he too could believe that Billy was going to be just fine. Then he said, because he couldn't scream at them, "Yeah. I mean, give him a while, he'll be back. Just like Arnold. I, on the other hand, have to get home. Mom's still having kittens about this weekend. See you guys tomorrow." He picked up his smoothie and left.

(3)

The mood of optimism that had characterized the team Monday was mostly gone by Tuesday, and all gone by Wednesday. The longer Billy stayed unconscious the worse it was; that was the consensus. Jason relayed the cautious words his mother said to him, and they didn't cheer up the rest of the team any more than they had him. Adam and Trini proved to be entirely too adept at looking up information, and not at all able to find anything encouraging.

Progress on other fronts was encouraging. A brief tangle with some putties in the park Monday evening introduced Adam, and a full-fledged encounter Tuesday with a typically Zedd-like chimera, half goat, a third flounder, and the rest who knew, proved that he could fit in. In fact, he more than held his own on a team that had gotten used to, if only as a habit, thinking of the Blue Ranger as—not not pulling his own weight, not that, but perhaps not having as much weight to pull. That was more like it. Certainly unmorphed and a perception that had bled over to all their fights, though unfairly perhaps...

They all felt a little guilty about it but they'd all been more than a little grateful that Adam was as good as Rocky, certainly, maybe as good as Trini in an unmorphed fight. That they all also knew they'd miss Billy the next time they wanted something built, unbuilt, or analyzed, helped; Adam wasn't a better Ranger than Billy, just a better fighter than him. Trini had volunteered to go over the Command Center with him so he'd be at least familiar with it, and he did have a hard science background with an engineering slant. Jason hoped they'd be able to keep Adam from feeling like he was supposed to be better than Alpha with the technology, but the new Blue Ranger, though conscientious, was smart enough to know he wasn't going to step into the Command Center the way he'd stepped into Triceratops...

Trini was, after her initial sullenness, back to being close to normal. Maybe a little snippy with Jason, but only a little and only with him and maybe he was just looking for it... She was welcoming with Adam, helpful and friendly and apparently able to look at the Blue Ranger, at least since the first time, without blinking and thinking about Billy. She probably did, Jason knew, but she never showed it to Adam, or any of the others.

Which was good, because he and Kim and Tommy weren't finding it so easy. Kim had actually known Billy a year longer than Jason had, both of them living on the same street after the Cranstons had moved in from Cincinnati. But the three of them had a friendship that dated back to fourth grade, and though Billy and Jason were both only kids, while Kim wasn't, they'd always felt like brothers and sister. Closer than Kim felt to her actual brother, though he was, of course, several years younger. And Tommy had come out of a lonely childhood of abandonment, foster homes, and getting into trouble to find himself being accepted, among friends for the first time in his young life. He and Kim had sparked the first time they'd met, strongly enough that she hadn't been able to forget that moment through all the subsequent what Rocky always called "evil Ranger stuff" that followed... And he and Jason had so much in common it wasn't surprising they'd become close. It was Billy's friendship, though, Jason thought, that had been the biggest key in turning Tommy from being what Frank Scott had described to his son as "a kid on the fast track to hard time" to someone whose first instinct was to help. Because Billy had no particular reason to like Tommy, several good reasons not to, and yet genuinely did. And Tommy was very good at taking things personally, assuming blame no one was offering... Jason had to worry about Tommy and Kim, too.

Oddly, in a way it could have been harder on Rocky, because he really enjoyed not having to keep things from Adam any more. The two juniors were again as close as they'd been before Rocky had met Jason, and then Zordon, and he was happy about it. They both were. The circumstances weren't what they'd have chosen, and Rocky kept bringing himself up short over it... But Jason didn't worry too much about Rocky. He had a way of simplifying and accepting that Jason sometimes envied, and since he hadn't even been in town over the weekend, Rocky couldn't shoulder enough of the responsibility to take it personally. And his innate, unquenchable good nature was something Jason found himself looking for, leaning on even, as the week progressed.

Because Adam's integration into the team was the only good news Jason was getting. Every phone call to the hospital, every conversation with his mom or Billy's dad, yielded the same thing: no change. Critical condition. Unconscious.

And Jason could read between the lines. His mom had been preparing him for bad news from the first time she'd talked to Billy's doctors.

But it wasn't something he knew how to prepare for, because preparation implied acceptance, and that was something he knew he'd never be able to do.

Not even after—if—it happened.

The Wolf moved slowly through the darkened mind. No spirit quest had been undertaken, yet this cub had been a warrior of light, bound to the Power, for years now. In his need, She aided him, and always would, though She was conscious of a resentment that he had never been told of Her existence and of a wish that She could reach him.
The Power thundered over Her like a storm, drowning Her senses, drowning out Her voice, nearly drowning Her entirely. She fought Her way through it, step by hindered step. It was too much, this augmented Reach, it nearly overwhelmed even Her. It made it well nigh impossible for him to hear Her, even had he known of Her. Many of Her kind, she knew, had lain down under it and melted into nothingness; still others had left their Chosen, returning to the Other Place, leaving behind them only a touch and a wistfulness. But this cub, this warrior, this blend of sorrowful patience and bright strength and questing spirit and honorable heart, She could not leave him. And sometimes he heard Her. And now he needed Her, as never before.
And then—quite suddenly—the storm ceased. Power flowed through Her, not over Her, and Her senses were alive again. He had lost that unnatural connection to the Power, and now She could reach him. Now She could make him hear Her. Now She could try to heal him, though after such hurt and so much time it would be hard.
But She only fleetingly cared about that. The body was of less importance than the life that dwelt within it, the flesh far less than the spirit. What was important was that now he was within Her reach. And She within his. At last.

Monday sometime Jason's parents had realized he'd been alone from eleven at night until he'd gone to school in the morning. Normally this didn't bother them, though it hadn't been until the previous year that they'd let their schedules do that, but they'd clearly put their heads together and decided they shouldn't be leaving him alone overnight under the circumstances. So, while Linda left for the hospital after supper and worked her twelve hours as usual, Frank took advantage of seniority and split his shift, leaving after Jason was in bed but coming home at six to oversee his son's morning, make sure he ate and went to school and that he had, in fact, slept. Which meant Jason had to act like he wasn't having nightmares, because Frank would have taken leave to be with him and while Jason appreciated the thought, the action would have taken the last of his ability to get through the day. The fact that Frank was gone when Jason actually fell asleep helped; when Jason found himself on the floor, clearly having lunged out of bed while dreaming, he knew he couldn't have kept the dreams from his parents if they'd been home.

So Friday morning Frank was there to fix breakfast and threaten to force-feed his son if he didn't eat. While Jason was contemplating the scrambled eggs his father had put down on the table in front of him the phone rang. Frank muttered something under his breath and got up to answer it. Jason halfway hoped it was a major crisis that would allow him to be alone; he was ashamed of the wish as soon as he realized he was thinking it, and he ate a bite of eggs in penance.

"Jason," Frank put the phone down on the table, an unprecedented occurance. "It's your mother."

"Jason?" She didn't waste any time. "You can't see him yet, but Billy woke up last night, and he was lucid." She paused for a moment, then said, "That means—"

"I know," he found his voice. "He was making sense. Oh, God, Mom. Oh, thank God. He's awake." It was a good thing he was in a chair; he didn't think his legs would have supported him. "He's gonna be all right?"

"It's a bit early to say that for sure, Jason," she said gently. "There could be some neurological deficit, but Dr. Roth was pleased with his preliminary examination, and he's off the respirator. It's really quite a remarkable recovery."

Neurological deficit. Was that a medical euphemism for brain damage? "You said he was lucid?"

"Yes," she said. "My friend Danny—remember him? he works in the SICU?—said Billy knew who he was, what month, the usual checks. He doesn't remember the accident, but that's probably a good thing, Jason—"

Jason knew that was most probably Billy having no clue what story was being told. If that was the neurological deficit, that was okay... let that be it. "When can I see him, Mom? Just for a couple of minutes, what could it hurt?"

"Jason, you know the rules are for a reason."

"But if he's awake, how long will he be in the ICU?"

"Oh, Jason, that's impossible to say. There are way too many variables. The minute you can see him, I'll make sure you do. But I knew you'd want to hear this. It looks like he's going to make a significant recovery."

"Yes, thanks, Mom. Sorry to sound so greedy..." He backed off, not wanting to sound like there was a reason other than just wanting to see Billy... although he did. If there hadn't been any other reason, he'd still want to this badly. He couldn't completely believe in recovery; the image of the crumpled and bleeding body of his friend was too vivid.

"I understand, Jason. The very minute you can see him, I'll make sure you do. I'm sorry I don't have anything more definite to tell you."

"No, this is great. This is great, Mom. Thanks for calling."

"You're welcome, Jason. Put your father back on, will you?"

"Sure, Mom. Thanks." He held the receiver out. "She wants to talk to you." He collapsed against the back of his chair.

Billy woke up. The room was a big, light blur, dispelling the silver-blue dreams that faded despite his attempt to remember them. His mind was as blurry as the room, but after a few moments his thoughts sharpened to the point that he realized why the room was remaining fuzzy. Glasses. Or rather, no glasses. At least he could breathe.

Where had that come from? Yes, he remembered, a respirator. He'd been on a respirator, which was why his throat was so sore. He could have done without that memory; it had been bizarrely terrifying, being unable to breathe and yet not suffocating. They'd taken the tube out; fortunately he seemed be able to breathe on his own. At least, he was still.

He wished he could remember what had happened. He lay still, vaguely aware of a comforting spot of warmth somewhere close and sharply aware of pain, and tried to get his mind to work through the fuzz that clung to it. Respirator, and pain, and the sounds of medical equipment... he was in the hospital.

Mom? The stray thought ran across his mind before he could grab it and stuff it back where it belonged. Not that. He wasn't sure what, but not that. He turned his head and wished he hadn't.

"Bill?"

The warmth he'd sensed focussed with the spoken word. "Dad?" He wasn't sure he'd actually said that out loud.

"Bill." His father's tone told him he had, in fact.

Not minding the pain, he turned his head the other way and saw his father's face, close enough that the worry on it was evident. "Dad," he said again. "What's wrong?"

"Not as much as I was afraid of," his father said, smiling through his concern. "Do you remember?"

"Remember what?" Billy asked, and then did, quite suddenly (and reassuringly). Or at least enough to have a fairly strong idea what the missing bits were. Revenger must have clipped me pretty good, as Jason would say... Jason.

"Jason's fine," his father said.

Billy blinked at him, then realized he must have said it out loud. Unless Dad's turned into a psychic.... But it was good news.

"Kim's fine, too," his father added. "You're the only one who got hurt. Do you remember it at all, son?"

Jason, Kim... not Tommy or Trini. I have no idea what story they told... "No," he said, taking the easiest way out of it. "No. I don't. The way I feel... vehicle accident?"

"No," his father said. "You remember Jason, though?"

"No," he said, keeping his tone confused. "I remember going to bed... Friday?" He didn't have to work at working at it; it was hard to say more than a few words at a time. "But unless there was ... an earthquake, I must have been out, and ... I think I had plans with Jason. What happened?"

"There was an accident," his father said. "The doctors said I should let you try to remember today, not tell you yet. But no one else was injured, only you. You were with Jason, and Kim; does that help?"

"Jason... Kim," he said. "No. I'm sorry..." The regret was real enough; he didn't like lying to his father. He didn't like misdirection at all, even by the somewhat easier path of omission, but he really hated telling direct lies to his father.

"Don't worry about it, son." Edmund Cranston leaned forward in his chair and touched Billy's arm, gently and briefly. "It'll come back or it won't, but it's not important either way. What's important is that you're here."

The warmth grew stronger, and Billy had the urge to lose himself in it, just close his eyes and drift. It was an alien feeling; he'd never drifted in his life. He wasn't sure he wanted to start. He stared into his father's grey eyes—worry underlying the relief, telling him he was probably hurt worse than he felt—and found something to focus on. "Aren't you ... supposed to be in ... Oregon?"

His father smiled. Like most of his smiles, this one had an underlying sadness, but he was genuinely amused. "Oregon. Well, yes. I am supposed to be there. But I wasn't really prepared to give Eugene my full attention, let alone Bend—they are in real trouble—so I came back. Paul Gifford went up to Bend, and Eugene will just have to wait."

"Mr. Holliman?"

"Peter didn't seem to have any quarrel with my decision. I'm taking some vacation time." He touched Billy's arm again. "Don't start being foolish now, Bill."

"No, sir," he said, smiling back even though it hurt. He gave up and closed his eyes.

Billy woke up. Again, though he wasn't entirely sure why that word came into his mind. Then he remembered. Revenger, the fight... he still didn't know exactly what had happened, he was missing a few crucial minutes of memory, but he did know the important thing, which was that nobody else had been injured. He hurt, all over; he didn't think there was a single part of his body that didn't ache. Which was probably a good sign, he acknowledged, especially given his continuing inability to move many of the parts that hurt, but inclined him to believe what he'd heard about the inadequacies of pain management in American hospitals. The room was blurry; of course, he didn't have his glasses. His father had promised to bring his spare pair, but he needed his glasses to find them...

Somebody was in the room, or that portion of the ward that was mentally equivalent to "his room" though he wasn't yet up to figuring out how he could make that distinction. He wasn't even yet up to figuring out how he could tell someone was there. Later. It was somebody he didn't know and who didn't have that indefinable something—he was going to have to find a word for it if it was going to become part of his life—that had so far marked all the medical personnel who'd come and gone for the last couple of days. Even Jason's mother had it, though she had also been marked with a fainter variety of the warmth, for lack of a better term, that told him when his father was there. He turned his head, carefully, and saw a man sitting in the chair next to his bed. He was blurry, of course, but he didn't have the look of somebody Billy ought to recognize.

He looked up when Billy moved. "Hi, Billy," he said, sounding friendly.

Not friendly, Billy thought, just sounding that way. Besides, he genuinely hated strangers—and he didn't recognize the voice—calling him 'Billy'. That was okay for people who'd known him his whole life, or that solar physicist at the Marshall Space Flight Center who was from Georgia and was, at 40, still called 'Bobby'... "I'm sorry," he said. "You are?"

"Detective Ben Ratkowsky, Angel Grove Police," the man said, holding out his badge. Of course, he was holding it so far away that for all Billy could tell it could have been a crossing guard badge. But the name registered: Tommy's case officer. "I was glad to hear you're recovering, Billy," he said. "I was hoping you could tell me a bit about the, um, accident?"

The questioning intonation seemed to more about the noun than either verb, Billy thought. He gathered his wits and said, "I'm sorry, but I actually don't remember anything about the accident."

"Nothing? Not even who was there?"

"I don't remember anything," Billy repeated. From what his father had told him, which admittedly was limited, there was no reason for any policeman to be asking him questions. The Kingsley Building was public; they even had a little garden on their roof, as part of their 'civic-minded involved-in-the-community' image. And Tommy's name had never come up, except that he'd been to the hospital, left a card and some asters.

"Nothing?" Ratkowsky said. "Not even who you were with? Why you were up there?"

"You don't know?"

"Oh, I know. What I've been told, anyway. I was hoping you could fill me in a bit, Billy."

"Well, you most certainly know more than I do," Billy said. "I don't remember anything about that day."

"The whole day?"

"That's right."

"So you don't remember Tommy Oliver being with you?'

"I don't remember anything," Billy repeated.

The detective stood up. Looming. Billy almost laughed; he'd been loomed at by far bigger and meaner things than a surly policeman. "Kimberly Hart is Tommy Oliver's girlfriend."

Billy didn't respond.

"Isn't she?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that was a question. Yes. They're dating." A mild term for it, but accurate.

"So Tommy didn't come with his girlfriend when she went out with two other guys?"

Billy contemplated the effort required to explain how he, Jason, and Kim had been friends since fourth grade, with (unfortunately) no sexual element whatsoever, or how Tommy and Kim had a relationship almost entirely constructed of trust, or how close he, Jason, and Tommy were, and decided it was not at all worth it. "I don't remember," he said, "anything." He did wish he could see Ratkowsky's face clearly.

"Billy," the detective said, suddenly back to sounding friendly. Billy stifled a snicker; it must be very difficult to be good cop-bad cop all by yourself. "I know you and Jason Scott are close—"

For a brief moment, Billy wanted to know what sort of scenario Ratkowsky had constructed in his seriously-in-need-of-professional-help mind, but he was too tired and too, to be honest, angry to want to encourage it. The touch of warmth that brushed against his perception told him an ally had just arrived, so he he merely repeated, putting a little extra strain into his voice, "I don't remember anything."

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"Detective, just what part of 'I don't remember anything' don't you understand?" Edmund Cranston's voice was deceptively mild; it could, when needed, carry quite a cutting edge. "They're all simple words; true, two of them have three syllables, but they're quite ordinary. I believe my son has told you all he can. I want you to leave him alone now. He's been injured. He needs his rest."

Ratkowsky looked between the two of them. "Okay, I'll leave. Billy," he turned back to the bed, "if you remember anything else, please call."

"Certainly," said Billy. There was no problem with that promise, since it was highly unlikely that he would remember the few minutes he was missing.

Ratkowsky left. Edmund said, softly, "I'm sorry he was bothering you. I'll speak to the staff about that."

"It's all right, Dad," Billy said.

"I feel for the Oliver boy. How much longer does he fall under that man's jurisdiction? If he engages in that kind of witch hunting, perhaps something should be done to remove him."

Billy smiled. "I think Tommy is okay with it, Dad. I actually think he feels it's a deserved penance."

His father made one of those little sounds that, when Billy made them, either annoyed or amused his friends, depending on how well they thought they could interpret them. Billy, of course, had no trouble with this one: his father was still angry at the detective, saw the irony in Tommy's belief while not accepting it himself, and would probably talk to Frank Scott about it but at a later date because something else was on his mind at the moment. "Well, be that as it may," he said, "at least if they're letting the police in to talk to you then they can't complain much that who I brought isn't immediate family either."

"Jason?" Billy asked.

"Who else have you been wanting?" His father smiled gently at him. "He's outside; I'll send him in. Don't let him worry you; I think he's been blaming himself."

"Of course he has, and I won't, and thank you."

"You're welcome," Edmund said, entirely without irony.

Billy knew that his friends found his relationship with his father formal and distant, but it wasn't. They were a very similar pair of restrained people, who had fought their way back from the emotional devastation of Jeanne Cranston's death and reached a place where they were comfortable with each other. Billy hadn't needed this new ability to sense his father's warmth as an almost physical thing to know he was loved.

But that warmth, like a banked hearthfire, was nothing compared to the blaze that Jason brought with him when he came in. There was what he somehow recognized as a strong Morphin component to it but mostly it was Jason, which, if he had thought about it, would have come as no surprise. It was what Jason was.

It took a minute to get used to, though.

"Hey, buddy," Jason said softly. He sat down where Ratkowsky had been sitting and scooted the chair closer to the bed. "Man, Billy, do you feel as bad as you look?"

"I can barely see you, let alone me," Billy answered.

"Your glasses are over here. You want 'em?"

"Yes, please."

Jason picked them up, unfolded them and paused, clearly deciding that Billy had far too many tubes and wires and things sticking into him. He carefully slid the frames over Billy's ears and settled the lenses in place. "How's that?"

"You look like hell," Billy said. He did, bruised-looking eyes, pale and tired.

"Haven't been sleeping too well," Jason admitted. He pushed gently on the bridge of the glasses and then briefly rested the back of his hand on Billy's cheek. "You scared me, buddy."

"Sorry," Billy apologised, knowing Jason didn't really need an apology but did need some acknowledgement of his feelings. "Believe me, I'd rather have not."

"I'll bet. Look, I don't know how long I can stay. Your dad snuck me in."

"He's good about things like that."

"Don't talk so much."

Billy smiled. "Talking doesn't hurt. It's about the only thing that doesn't, at the moment."

"That's kind of a good thing, though, right?" Jason asked hopefully.

"It's better than the alternative," he acknowledged.

Jason's midnight-colored eyes eased somewhat. "Sense of humor's still intact," he observed.

"What happened Saturday, Jason?"

"You don't remember?" Jason's worry flared up again, almost visibly.

"I mean," Billy clarified, "what are you saying happened? I need to know what you told people, Jase. I've said I don't remember the entire day; I'd like to 'remember' most of it. It worries my father, for one thing. And for another, my neurologist seems unhappy about it. And that makes him want to run tests, which doesn't make me happy."

"How much do you remember?"

"Probably all but a few minutes," Billy said. "We were on the Kingsley Building, all of us but Rocky—you've said Tommy wasn't there? Ratkowsky was here—"

"That bastard." That was strong condemnation from Jason. "He will not let go of it. He thinks he can prove Tommy was there—"

"And what? Threw me off? Over Kim? And you what, just stood there and watched?"

Jason was suppressing anger. "He thinks Tommy's a mad dog. He probably thinks I'm scared of him—"

"Oh, well, that confirms my initial evaluation of his deductive abilities."

Jason laughed, then sobered and put his hand on Billy's arm. All the Scotts were touchers; Billy generally found the contact comforting and the experience had led him to, when he thought of it, offer his own touch, as he had to Tommy when they'd been trying to convince him that they did want him, after he'd been freed from Rita. Today, he found Jason's touch more than comforting. It seemed energizing, as though the blaze he could feel in his friend was somehow actually warming him, not just metaphorically. He made a note to mention it to Jason when they had a moment. Jason said, "Seriously, though, man, your dad told me not to let you talk too much. I'll talk, you listen. Okay? If I miss a question you need answered, you can ask when I'm done. I don't want to make you worse; you look bad enough." He squeezed Billy's arm and then sat back, glancing around.

"Kim had a science project. You told her something about pollution and sunsets—"

"Yes." He remembered that conversation, and was absurdly pleased that Kim had.

"Okay. That's what she was going to do it on. So, she and I got some donuts and came over to your house that morning. We all kicked the project idea around a little and then Kim borrowed your camera to take pictures of the haze and whatever. Off the Kingsley building, since it has such a great view. Being on the edge of town, even if it's not very high—"

"It's sufficiently high, I believe," Billy couldn't help saying.

"Yeah. Thank God we weren't on the Tehachapi," Jason said somberly; that one was eleven stories tall. "We called Tommy; he said he had something else to do. He told the Olivers he was going to be with us, so he got in a bit of hot water, gave Ratkowsky something to nose around, but the three of us—you, me, and Kim—we don't know what he was 'really' doing. You drove us out to the Kingsbridge Shopping Center. We went on top of the building."

"And I fell off."

"Sorry, Bill," Jason really was. "But, man, you did. There wasn't anything else we could say. At least, nothing else I could think of at the time—"

"Jase," Billy cut him off. "When we decide to pitch somebody off a building, we can get together beforehand and discuss all the details of a truly artistic story. This one has the virtues of being short and plausible."

"Yeah," Jason nodded, then gave him that slightly hangdog look he very occasionally assumed. "Even my dad said you weren't coordinated."

"I'm not really that bad, am I?"

"Bad enough to fall off a building? No, not quite... That was a joke," he added. "You know you're not. Not for a couple of years now. But you've got a reputation."

"Like Tommy," Billy nodded.

"Well, his is worse."

"This is indisputable."

The feeling of warmth increased slightly, and Billy looked around to see his father. Jason followed his gaze and jumped to his feet.

"Jason," Edmund Cranston said, "I'm sorry, but Dr. Roth is on his way to see Bill, and if you want to be able to get in again later, I think perhaps you should leave now before he sees you."

"Yes, sir. I expect you're right," Jason said. "Thanks for letting me in."

"Don't mention it. Bill wanted to see you, and it looks like it did him some good."

"Thanks anyway, sir. I really wanted to see him. Hey—" he pointed at Billy. "I'll be back."

"Thanks for the warning."

Jason snickered—Billy was pleased to note he looked much better than he had coming in—and turned to leave. Then he stopped and turned around, saying, quickly, "Man, I can't believe I didn't say—do you know Adam Park?"

Ah. That's who. Billy was mildly surprised to realize he hadn't asked. Of course they had replaced him, they'd had to. "Yes. He did that intricate seismology project for the science fair last year."

"That's him." Jason glanced at Edmund Cranston and finished, "He said to say 'hi' if anybody saw you. 'Hi and get well'."

"Tell him I appreciate it," Billy said.

"Okay, will do." And Jason left.

"I don't believe I've met Adam Park," Billy's father observed. It was as close to a question as he would come.

"He's more Rocky's friend than mine," Billy said.

"But he asked about you. That's nice." It still startled Edmund at times, how many people liked his son. He'd worried about keeping him in public school, especially when it seemed that no one was ever going to challenge him academically, but Jeanne had been sure it would be better for Billy, and it seemed she'd been right. "Jason looks very tired," he added.

"Yes," Billy agreed. "He admitted to not sleeping well."

"You both look better now. I'll try to bring him in again tomorrow."

"I'd appreciate that."

His father nodded and sat down in the chair Jason had vacated. "Did talking to him help you remember anything?"

Billy cocked his head slightly. He could almost believe his father knew they were hiding something... of course, he realized. His father thought Tommy had been with them; not a surprising conjecture, as Tommy and Kim did spend as much time together as Mrs. Hart would allow them to. He didn't think Tommy had hurt Billy, if only because he knew—Billy knew he knew it—that Jason would have been there like a junkyard dog... and where had that simile come from? Jason? Oh, this is too much to think about now. Later... "Yes," he answered after a moment. "Some things sounded familiar."

"That's good." He sounded genuinely pleased to hear it.

And maybe he was reading too much into it. His head hurt; he wasn't going to think about it any more today.

His father pulled a folded sheaf of pages from his pocket. "I checked your email last night," he said, half-apologetically. "These are from people who were concerned you hadn't been in touch. I answered some of them and explained the situation; quite a few sent you their regards..." he laid the papers on the table. "You can read them later, and I'll send any answers you want."

Oh, dear. He'd completely forgotten the readings he was suppposed to be taking for Bobby at Marshall, plus the two papers he was reviewing... can't be helped. And he doubted he could get his father to bring in a hundred-plus pages of physics to proof. Not while he was still in intensive care. "Thank you," he said.

"Taking a couple of weeks off will not hurt you, or anybody else," his father said.

Billy smiled. They knew each other too well... they had for years. That was all it was, nothing extra, nothing weird.

"And how are we today?" Dr. Roth arrived.

(4)

Both his father and Dr. Roth were pleased when he woke up the next morning remembering very nearly everything that had happened the previous Saturday. Missing the few actualmoments of the accident was completely normal, the neurologist explained to him (as he had already explained to Edmund Cranston), and was due to the physical injuries the brain had sustained. His father intensely disliked the way the neurosurgeon said things like "the brain", but Billy found that he preferred the distance. "Damage to your brain" was something he never wanted to hear, just as "my brain damage" was something he truly never wanted to say.

Although there was still much about Billy's recovery that was puzzling—such as why he could feel his legs but not move them, not to mention (though some of them did, and where he could hear them) why he was recovering at all—he was moved out of the SICU into a semi-private room Tuesday. That meant Jason didn't have to sneak in, and made it simple for the entire team to come by and visit him, though the hospital frowned on groups of more than three.

Wednesday, Tommy and Kim cut last period (Kim's was a study hall, which was easier than Jason and Tommy's Western Civ, but they did it anyway) and joined Jason in a visit. When they got to the room, three junior high kids were on their way out; one of them—whom they recognized as the Stony Creek JHS quarterback—was agonizingly impressed by Jason, but too embarrassed to actually do more than stammer something unintelligible and run.

"Did you intimidate Jordan?" Billy asked as they came into the room, currently occupied only by him.

"I think so," Tommy grinned. "They let you have that in here?" He gestured at the pile of books on the bedside table. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"Physics is restful," Billy insisted.

"I didn't mean to intimidate him," Jason ignored that byplay. "What was he doing here?"

"They're my math students," Billy said. "And the junior highs are out early on Wednesday, so at least they're not cutting class."

"Nag," said Jason amiably as he dropped into the bedside chair.

"They came for tutoring?" asked Tommy.

Kim shook her head at him. "They didn't have any books with them. They just came to see you, didn't they?" An aroma caught her attention and she sniffed. "And bring brownies? Can you eat brownies?"

"No." Billy shook his head. "I can't. You guys take them with you so I don't lose my self-control."

"You should save them for Rocky," Kim said.

"Home-made pecan brownies?" Tommy looked up from investigating the plastic container. "Rocky will eat anything; these should go to a discriminating palate."

"I don't care who eats them," Billy said. "I only want them out of here before the aroma drives me mad."

"We'll take 'em," volunteered Tommy. "You know," he cleared the books onto the floor and perched himself on the bedside table, since Jason had the only chair; Kim had settled on the edge of the bed near Billy's knee, "you're looking pretty good for a guy who fell off a building."

"I don't have much basis for comparison," Billy answered, "but I feel pretty good."

"For a guy who fell off a building," Tommy clarified.

"That's understood."

"Actually," Kim said, "you do look good. I mean, the bruises are gone and I don't think you're going to have any scars, at least not where we can see them—at least not if you weren't wearing that hospital gown—"

"That's enough, beautiful," said Tommy, trying not to snicker at Billy's blushes.

"You know what I mean, don't you, Billy?" She was glad Tommy had stopped her, though.

"I do, Kim," he agreed. "And, in fact, it's something I wanted to mention to you when you were here before, Jason."

"Mention away, buddy," Jason said, leaning back in the chair and putting one of his cross-trainers on the bed, nudging Billy's knee.

Kim wasn't sure why, but every time she'd seen Billy since he'd been hurt, she'd wanted to touch him; in fact, her hand was on his knee at the moment. Maybe just to reassure herself he was still there? Whatever, it seemed clear that she wasn't the only one who felt like that. Not only was Jason maintaining contact, but Tommy kept reaching out and touching Billy's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind, though normally he wasn't much for touching, being touched. Nearly dying may change your perspectives, Kim realized. It sure changed ours... She realized that Billy hadn't started talking yet. "Did you want us to leave?" she asked.

"No," he responded quickly. "I'm just not sure how to start this... it's very vague, very unscientific, very—"

"Intuitive?" Kim asked. "That's what Adam was complaining about, when Jason was explaining how things worked."

Billy cocked his head at Jason, his green eyes sparkling. "Jason was explaining how things worked?" he said. "I'm very sorry I missed that."

"Give me a break," Jason said. "He can make it all work, can't he?"

"When you teleport, you just know where you want to go," Tommy told Billy.

Who raised a dark blond eyebrow and said, "Actually, that's quite a good explanation for instructing a novice in how to use the teleporter."

"See," said Jason, looking absurdly pleased, and added, "If it's unscientific, you've got the right people here."

"Truer words were never spoken," Tommy agreed. "What's on your mind?"

"Just say it," Kim said. "We won't laugh."

"I know when you're coming down the hall," Billy said.

That was not at all what Kim had been expecting him to say, which had been, vaguely, something about his injuries or the team. Apparently it wasn't what Jason or Tommy had been expecting, either, though true to her word, nobody laughed. Nobody said or did anything at all.

"I know my father's come into the room when I'm asleep," he went on. "I recognize him, somehow. I knew Ratkowsky wasn't a hospital employee before I saw him. And you guys—as I said, I can feel you coming from down the hall."

"What do you mean, 'feel'?" Kim asked. It wasn't a very common word in Billy-speak.

"I don't know." He sounded frustrated. "I can't explain it. It's like... a new sense. I think it's connected to the Morphin Power, somehow, which makes no sense to me because I'm not any longer. Connected, I mean."

"Huh." Tommy looked puzzled. "None of us can do anything like that."

"And you didn't use to be able to, did you?" Kim asked.

"No," Billy answered her. "It just ... feels similar." It was obvious how much he hated being so imprecise.

Jason blinked as if he'd just thought of something. "Billy, you've had blood transfusions before, right?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Several times... Why?"

"Did your dad tell you they had trouble this time around?"

"He did. He said they wanted to run tests on him, something about exotic blood proteins. He pointed out I'd been transfused before, and he said they were puzzled. But he didn't go into any details with me. Why?"

"Mom said they had to autotransfuse you."

"Now that could be from the Morphin Power," said Kim; as the team's usual medic-standby she'd done some reading about medicine, even though there wasn't much around to help her with the table. "I mean, who knows what morphing does to us? We should probably check, 'cause it could be a problem if it's true. But it won't be the same thing as this, Jason. I mean," she pointed out, "he was still connected that day; we didn't give the Blue Coin to Adam until Monday."

"You shouldn't have waited that long," Billy said. "What if Zedd had attacked?"

"Zordon had Adam picked out. We'd have rushed it if we'd had to," Jason said.

"It wasn't exactly something we were thinking about, bro," Tommy said with another shoulder touch. "But back to this other thing: is it like, psychic? Or what?"

"What, I hope," said Billy.

Jason grinned, barely not laughing out loud.

Kim thought it was kind of funny, too. One thing Billy absolutely hated was psychics in any shape or form. He loved reading James Randi's debunking books, and he didn't even like seeing those commercials on television for the Psychic Hotline or anything like it. And although they'd watch The X Files together (David Duchovny was so cute), Billy was definitely a Scully... It would just kill him to have to face being psychic himself, though at least he wasn't seeing the future or talking with the dead. And of course, he was genuine... hey, he could collect Randi's million dollars if he could really do something flashily psychic. Except if it was Morphin, that would definitely be personal gain. She had an idea. "Is it just being sensitive to us? Because that could be like leftover."

"Except we don't have it, Kim," pointed out Tommy, "so how could it be?"

"It could be residual," Billy said; clearly he'd been thinking about it—big surprise. "It could be that the Power's presence within oneself blinds one to its presence in others. You know what it feels like to have the Power."

Oh, yes. Kim didn't drink, or do drugs, or even drink much coffee. But the Power was better than anything she'd ever felt, and when they'd been cut off by Revenger, it had been ... actually... "You know," she said, realizing it for the first time, "in that fight, with Revenger, I knew where most of the team was all the time. Sort of, anyway."

"Hey," Tommy realized, "me too."

Jason, who'd been all quiet the way he got when he was worrying about someone, the way he did, nodded. "I think maybe I did, too. You two, anyhow."

Kim nodded. "So that's probably what that is, Billy." She tried out the new word. "A residual?" She'd thought that was what actors got from reruns.

"Except," he said, "how is it I can sense people who've never had the Power?"

"I don't know," Jason said. "Maybe we all could. Not that I want to experiment, mind you."

Nor, Kim knew, did he want Billy to dwell on the loss... especially since he wasn't fully recovered physically yet. Jason wanted to keep things light, at least for now. He'd said so on the way over. But, while they were all worried about Billy's recovery—whether he'd walk again, or, or, or anything—Kim knew Billy better than to think he wouldn't worry things over in his own mind if nobody talked to him about them. Jason did, too, really. So, "Zordon probably knows," said Kim. "I mean, if they're used to replacing Rangers."

"We can ask him," Jason nodded. "Anything else? Premonitions? Clairvoyance? Dead people hanging around with odd messages?"

"Tommy, will you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Bill; what?"

"Beat Jason up."

Jason nudged Billy's knee with his foot, smiling, while Tommy promised to work it in.

"Seriously, anything else?" Kim asked, ignoring the byplay, which she'd have characterized as "macho idiocy" if she'd deigned to notice it.

Billy looked relieved that he was being taken seriously and, simultaneously, as if what he was going to say next might change their minds. "Well, yes. I've been having strange dreams."

"Do we want to go there?" Tommy kidded him gently.

Billy blushed.

"Tommy," Kim reproved and squeezed Billy's knee supportively. "Just ignore them. What kind of dreams, Billy?"

"A wolf," he said.

Kim glared at the other two boys, hoping her eyes were threatening instant death for so much as a snicker. Apparently the message got through: neither one made a sound.

"A regular timber wolf? Or what?" she asked.

"A blue wolf," he said. "A big blue wolf. It—she. She doesn't do anything except be there. Inside my mind, I mean..." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not explaining this well."

"Sure you are," said Kim. "I mean, it's not math. It's—"

"Inherently imprecise," Jason quoted the phrase from other discussions.

"Precisely," Kim said, grinning. "I get the picture, I think. We'll see if Zordon and Alpha know anything."

"Thanks, Kim," Billy said. "I'd really appreciate it."

"Hey, even if you're losing your mind, we'll still love you," Tommy said.

"That's so reassuring," Billy responded, but even though his tone was dry, Kim could tell by his eyes that he was as serious as Tommy, equally surface-light, had been.

Jason pulled his foot off the bed and sat up. "Well, I hate to run, but Coach told me if I want to play Friday I'd better make at least one practice this week." Which was true; he'd missed all of them the week before, plus the game itself (which had been out of town). And his parents were both back on days this week and cracking down on how much time he was spending out of the house—hence cutting Western Civ, where he could catch up in a hurry. "I leave you in good hands."

"That's the problem with team sports," groused Tommy. "All those little Napoleons running the teams." Everyone in the room knew he meant Kim's gymnastics coach.

"Rocky doesn't complain," Billy observed.

"Well, he's going to put himself through college playing basketball," Kim pointed out. "Of course he's not going to complain about it."

"Rocky's coach spoils him," said Jason.

"Like yours doesn't?" asked Tommy.

"Easy for you to say," said Jason.

Tommy just snickered; he could have played football if he had wanted to. But he'd never been much for team sports, or so he always said, everybody depending on him to do what he was supposed to. Kim didn't understand that; he was one of the most dependable people she'd ever known, but then again, she hadn't known him long. Maybe he'd changed. Maybe being a Ranger had changed him... why should he be the only one who hasn't?

"You had better leave if you're in jeopardy of missing the game," Billy said.

"Yeah," Jason said, leaning over to punch him, very lightly. Why boys always hit each other was something Kim would never get. At least Jason picked one of the few places it looked like it wouldn't hurt. "See you later."

Kim and Tommy stayed a while longer. Billy had taken advantage of Jason's absence to cross-examine them on whether or not he was sleeping, eating, and studying enough; beating himself up too much; and taking care of himself at all. They should move in with each other, Kim thought, snickering to herself.

But Billy started drifting off in mid-sentence, and Tommy pushed himself off the table and said, "I think we'd better get out and let you rest." He picked the books up off the floor and, shaking his head over them, stacked them neatly on the table.

Kim slid off the bed and bent over to kiss Billy's cheek. "We'll see you later," she said softly. "Get some sleep, and don't worry about us. We're fine, all of us, and we're taking care of each other." That was contradictory, but she didn't care. He knew what she meant.

His green eyes were warm as he smiled sleepily at her. "Thank you, Kim," he said as softly back.

Tommy put his arm over Kim's shoulders as they walked out of the hospital. "He looks a lot better than Jason was saying, don't you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "But you were right: for someone who fell off a building he looks pretty good." She put her arm around his waist and leaned into the solid warmth of him. Thoughts she'd been suppressing ever since Tommy had teased Billy about his dreams resurfaced. "When do you have to be home?" she asked once they were in his old car, knowing the Olivers had partially grounded him after he'd "lied" to them about where he was going last Saturday.

He looked at her. "Supper. Why? Someplace you need to go? I'll take you."

"I was wondering if you'd like to come home with me for a while," she said. "Kevin's got soccer till 8 and Mom's not coming home till she picks him up."

His warm smile appeared. "I'd like to," he said. "Unless you want to talk to Zordon?"

She looked at him, trying to see if he didn't want to... No. He did. But he didn't want to presume. She leaned against the seatback with a happy little sigh. "No," she said. "We can do that later. In fact, I might go up there this evening. Right now, I just want to go home."

"By your command," he said.

She loved him so much. It had been ten days, and not by so much as a glance had he shown that he thought he had any right to expect anything. Ten days since one thing had led to another...

"Where's your mom, Kim?" Tommy asked, looking at the dark house as he parked the car.

"She's got an open house," Kim said. "I guess she couldn't get Ricki to take it for her..." She hugged herself, wishing she had her sweater still. It wasn't a cold night out, but she felt cold. She felt like Jason had looked when they left him at the hospital.

"Kim? Are you going to be all right?"

She looked at Tommy, into his dark eyes, and suddenly she didn't want him to go off and leave her alone in the house, without even Kevin's mindless idiocy to distract her. "Can you come in for a little while? Please?"

"Sure, beautiful," he said easily. "Of course."

He took her keys and unlocked the front door for her. She never minded when he did things like that—'of course you can do it yourself,' he'd say, 'but that's why I'm here, so you don't have to'— and she certainly didn't today. He cut on the light by the door and looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm scared." That had come without warning.

He opened his arms; she went into them without hesitation. "Of course you are," he said into her hair, leaning down to rest his face on the top of her head. "I know how much Billy means to you."

Now he wasn't saying anything about how strong Billy was, how much of a fighter he was. She wasn't either. Jason's grief-stricken presence had made them try their best to comfort him, but now, alone with each other, those words weren't coming. "He's your friend, too," she said.

His arms tightened around her.

"How long can you stay?" she asked, mindful of how annoyed Mrs. Oliver had sounded on the phone.

"As long as you need me to," he answered. "Don't worry about it."

"Come into the living room," she said, pulling away and taking his hand.

They sat on the couch and Kim at once curled up in his lap, his arms holding her close to him, wrapping her in warmth and protection. After a moment she raised her face and kissed him. He responded fervently, his tongue probing her mouth as his hands stroked her back. She pressed closer to him, one hand in his hair and the other digging into his shoulder. She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, mouths and hands seeking to meld them into a single being, but after a while it wasn't enough. She pulled a little away from him, shifting to straddle his legs. She felt his hands running down her back and across her hips, drawing her against him. She yielded to them, gripping his hips with her knees and pulling his teeshirt out of his waistband. He shivered as she ran her fingers up along his ribs, and when she gently pinched his nipples he moaned against her throat, his hands convulsing on her buttocks.

She leaned back into his grip, arching her back and offering herself to his mouth. He kissed her throat, licking and nibbling gently. His teeth grazed her shoulder and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the feelings.

He slid a hand under her blouse, covering her back with warmth. God, his hands are big... He fumbled for a minute with the hooks, and then her bra strap was undone and his hand moved around to cup her breast. She shivered at the touch, and then he was pulling blouse and bra together over her head, not bothering with buttons. She took her hands off of him so he could, and opened her eyes to see him looking at her for the first time.

His expression was everything she'd ever hoped she see someday. "Kimberly," he said softly, "you're so beautiful..." But she didn't want to hear him, she wanted to feel him, lose herself in him, become part of him. She pulled his head to her breast and he kissed one of them, then the other.

And then, somehow, she was lying on her back on the couch and he was over her, his weight on one forearm as he suckled on her breast, his hand on the other one, rolling her nipple between his fingers, squeezing and pinching just hard enough to make her whimper with delight and need. She spread her legs, pulling him closer to her, digging her fingers into his buttocks.

He groaned, thrusting against her. Then he kissed her, deep and hard while his hand slid under her skirt. She raised her hips to make it easier for him to pull her panties out of the way, and moaned into his mouth as his fingers caressed and entered her. It wasn't enough; she wanted—she needed—more. She pulled impatiently at the waistband of his sweatpants, yanking them out of the way.

He suddenly shook himself all over and pushed away from her, ignoring her hand on his arm trying to pull him back. He sat back on his heels and looked down at her with dark eyes glazed with desire. "Kim," he said hoarsely, "Kim. Enough..."

"No," she tugged him back. "No. Don't go."

"Kim, I won't be able to stop if we go on any longer."

"I don't want you to stop," she said, and pulled his unresisting hand to her breast. "Unless you—?"

He shook his head. His thumb was caressing her nipple even as he said, "No. God, no. Are you sure, Kim?"

"I'm sure." She drew his head down and kissed him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him into her, filling herself with him. Her need was so strong she didn't even notice if it hurt. All she knew was that for a time there was nothing in the world but Tommy and life.

Tommy shut the door behind them and put her keys down on the table. Then he held up the plastic box. "Want to get some milk and try out these brownies," he said, "make sure those kids are treating Billy right? I think the Wheel's on."

She took the brownies from him and put them down next to the keys. "No," she said. "Not just now. Come on." She took his hand and led him up the stairs to her room. Once inside she put her arms around him. "I don't want to watch TV," she said.

He looked down at her, his brown eyes kindling. "Kim?"

"Make love with me," she said, reaching to pull his face down for a kiss. "Please."

He kissed her eagerly, picking her up and holding her tightly as she gripped his waist with her knees. He turned and sat on her bed, still kissing her. After a moment, he said, softly, "We can't, Kim. It's not safe. I don't have any condoms... you could get pregnant."

God, she loved him. He didn't expect anything from her... he didn't even plan on trying to talk her into anything. She smiled at him, hoping he knew exactly how she felt because she didn't think she could ever find the words to tell him. "I got some," she said. "At the clinic." She reached for him and he came to her. "I want everything to be perfect this time," she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, Kimberly," he answered her. "And where you are, everything is perfect."

Tommy pulled away from Kim's house, thankful to be missing Mrs. Hart, and headed for the Olivers'. He was going to be a few minutes late, but he wouldn't have missed the last two hours with Kim for anything. Someplace years ago he'd read a sentence that hadn't made any sense to him at all: God draws straight with crooked lines. Now he thought he could understand that. Billy nearly died, and Kim needed him. He smiled to himself. He could sure as hell have done without Billy getting hurt, but there wasn't much else he'd have traded for the aftermath. Even thinking it was a one-time thing, spitting in the face of Death.

Knowing it hadn't been, he felt... man, he needed to work on his vocabulary. He didn't have the words for how he felt. Great. Delighted. Blissed out... This time had been so much better, taking it slow, trying to get it as right as he could. Kim had been satisfied with his attempts, he could tell that. If she'd let him, though, he was going to learn to make it perfect. Like she was.

Like she so obviously thought he was...

He parked in the street outside the house and went in. Predictably, Marian Oliver greeted him with, "You're late."

"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it, really, and then lied. "I was at the hospital."

Her blue eyes softened at once. "How is he?"

"He's a lot better," Tommy said. "He's out of intensive care. We had a good conversation."

"That's wonderful." She smiled delightedly. "I'm so glad." She touched his arm, a fleeting gesture. "We've been waiting dinner."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll go get washed up."

"Fine. I'll start serving."

He climbed the stairs, thinking about what she'd said. It was true, he knew; they liked Billy. He was somehow a symbol that they'd been right to come to Angel Grove. Tommy could remember the first time Billy had come over, to help him prep for a math test. He'd stayed for dinner, and Tommy had pushed the conversation toward the ever-faltering Mir space station, a passion of Jack Oliver's. Billy hadn't let him down; he'd impressed the hell out of them both. Jason was a jock—a good kid who got good grades and never got into any trouble, sure, but a jock—and they weren't surprised he gotten a girlfriend—and Kim, he knew, could come off as flighty and air-headed—but Billy was different. Billy was a geek. Billy was the kind of kid he'd pushed around in Stone Canyon. Or the first couple of months here in Angel Grove. And Billy liked him; it was obvious his affection was real. Billy was proof the Olivers maybe hadn't made such a bad decision after all.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn't see how the Olivers could think they hadn't. He'd been no prize when they'd first gotten him as a foster, three years ago. Why they'd wanted him around he'd never understood. And he hadn't made a lot of effort to deserve it. In fact, he'd pretty much tried to make them give up on him... but they hadn't. In fact, they'd moved to Angel Grove on his account, trying to get him away from bad company and worse memories. An extra hour each way on his commute hadn't seemed to matter to ... Dad. Tommy tasted the word, wondering why it had always been so hard to say.

The Olivers had adopted him, stunning everyone in the Department of Family Services. People didn't adopt fifteen-year-olds. Especially not sullen fifteen-year-olds with a track record of trouble. But they had. They were his legal parents now, had been for more than a year. And yet, he'd never called them that.

He knew they walked a fine line with him, trying to give him both discipline and love. And he... well, he accepted the former but fought off yielding to the latter as though it would kill him. In some ways, that made things a lot easier on him. For him...

Like lying to them. Which he did all the time. He'd started because he was just a liar. It was part of who he was, who he'd become. A liar, a fighter, a bully, a trouble-maker. Getting into trouble before trouble came looking for him, choosing what kind of trouble it would be. Dishing it out before anybody could offer it to him... Then he'd lied because they scared him. Now he lied because he was a Ranger, and being so good at it meant he could do it without effort. Unlike his friends.

They all had to lie, too, but they were lying to families. Oh, all their families were different, as different as they were. Trini's parents held both their daughters to strict standards and had high expectations for them, but they loved them. Kim's mother loved her, too, and so did her dad; the acrimonious divorce had been hard on Kim but her parents had tried to spare her even though they hadn't really succeeded. Rocky's family was incomprehensible, a sprawling multi-generational, multi-nuclear sea of people who surrounded each and every one of the individuals in it with a love entangled with responsibilities and privileges cutting in so many directions it made Tommy dizzy to watch Rocky navigate serenely through it, never doubting his place, never shirking a duty or denying a need and never believing that anyone else would, either. Jason's parents flat adored their only child, though they worked not to spoil him. And Billy's father... well, maybe the Cranstons were distant or repressed, but Billy loved his father and his father was certainly there when needed.

They all had families. Real families, like he hadn't believe existed. Like he'd refused to believe he could have—refused because he was tired of the hurt that came from trying. Ten foster homes and counting before the Olivers put an end to it.

And for what? For him? It didn't make any sense, any more than his having, suddenly, friends made any sense. Especially these friends. Most especially after what he'd done to them.

Tried to kill them, for God's sake. Tried to lay the whole world open to Rita. Hell, he'd done that, but they were strong enough, good enough, to beat him.

To save him.

He'd never get used to that. Never. Never understand why Jason had held out his hand and said, "Tommy, we need you. It's where you belong."

Never in a million years of trying understand why Billy had seconded that, put his hand on Tommy's shoulder, begged him with his eyes to join them, opened his heart to take Tommy inside.

Why suddenly people thought he was worth something, no matter what he did to prove he wasn't.

And now he didn't know how to stop. Because it still scared him, this whole family thing. A long time ago, so long ago he couldn't remember anything but a vague feeling of being wanted and protected, he might have had a family. But since then, everyone—everyone—who'd claimed to care for him had either hurt him or left him, usually both. He'd stopped expecting anything else by the time he was eight, and he could see now that he hadn't believed it when it had turned out to be true.

Maybe, he thought, staring into his own dark eyes, maybe all he had to do was accept it. He'd taken Jason's hand when it was offered. He'd let himself trust Billy. He'd opened his soul to Kim just because she wanted him to. Maybe this really wasn't any harder. Maybe all he had to do was stop resisting. Maybe he only had to let them in.

He dried his hands and went down the stairs two at a time. The Olivers—his parents, he corrected himself—were already seated at the dining room table. He pulled out his chair, next to his father at the end, across from his mother—his mother, oh, God, his mother... He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for grace, praying with every piece of him for the first time. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

"Tommy?" Jack asked when he'd finished grace. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "I'm fine. Really, Dad, I'm great." The word came out without his meaning it to.

Jack's cerulean blue eyes flickered in surprise and then warmed. "Good news at the hospital, then?" he asked, passing the dish of mashed potatoes.

"Yes," Tommy said. "He's doing really a lot better."

"That's great." Jack looked for something to say and fell back on the old standard. "How was school?"

Today, Tommy answered with more than just 'fine, sir.' He told them about his Lit class project, and Marian and Jack made suggestions, and for the first time probably ever Tommy felt like he was at home.

Friday after school Tommy, Kim, and Jason went to the hospital again. Kim had gone to see Zordon, and the three of them had kicked around what he and Alpha—mostly Alpha—had said. The consensus was, Billy wasn't going to like it any more than Zordon had.

"I think it's so cool," said Kim.

"Maybe," Tommy said doubtfully. "I don't think it means much, though. Even if it's true."

"If?" she answered. "You heard what he said. A wolf! And it's the only thing that really explains what's going on with him right now. Medically, I mean. Tommy, nerve tissue doesn't grow back. It doesn't."

"But it is," said Jason.

That sounded so much like a question that Kim obviously had to answer. "Yes, Jason. It is. He's getting better."

"But Zordon called it nonsense."

"Well, Jason," she said, "maybe Zordon's wrong."

"I guess he can be," Jason answered thoughtfully, and was quiet the rest of the way to the hospital.

Of course, he'd been quiet and thoughtful most of the day, Tommy reflected as he parked. Starting with gym, where he'd cornered Tommy in the locker room and said, in low sharp voice, "Did Kim do that?"

"Do what?"

"That," Jason had jabbed two fingers into Tommy's shoulder, next to a bruise which Tommy suddenly realized did, in fact, look like finger marks. "Did Kim do that?"

He'd had no idea what answer the black-haired boy Kim cheerfully called the older brother she didn't have wanted to hear. But he was well and truly through with lying to people he cared about if he didn't have to. "Yes," he'd said.

It had been the right answer. Jason had relaxed a little bit, his black eyes boring into Tommy's as if he were staring right into Tommy's soul. At least there wasn't anything there he hadn't already seen. Then he'd said, seriously but without anger, "If you ever hurt her I'll kill you."

"If I ever do, I'll want you to," Tommy had said, just as seriously.

Jason had nodded at him—a promise made—and let him go to finish dressing.

But there was more on his mind than Kim. They kidded Billy about thinking too much, Tommy reflected, but Jason thought as much. Just very differently, and about very different things. Jason not only took his responsibilities seriously, he actually went looking for them. It made him a great friend, but Tommy wouldn't have been him for all the tea in China.

When they got to Billy's room, his father was there. "I'm sorry, sir, we can come back," Jason began, but Mr. Cranston stood up.

"No, no, Jason," he said, smiling at them. Even when he smiled, Tommy thought, Mr. Cranston looked sad, somehow. "I'm sure Bill would rather talk to you three than me. I'll be back later, son," he added, sparing Billy the necessity of responding to that. "How are you, Kimberly? Tommy?"

"Fine, Mr. Cranston," Kim said and impulsively hugged him.

He smiled at her when she let go. "Thank you," he said softly. "Don't let him get too tired, Jason," he added and left.

"You shouldn't do that to him, Kim," Jason said as he sat down. "You know it embarrasses him. It's not the Cranston way."

Billy rolled his eyes at Jason. Kim shrugged as she sat down on the bed. "Oh, pooh. He needed it," she said. "How are you doing today? You look a little better."

"About the same," he said, "though it doesn't hurt quite so much to move my arms as it did."

"That's great," she enthused.

"It's progress, at any rate," he said more temperately.

Sure, Tommy figured. You fall off a building, you expect it to hurt. But his legs weren't working at all, pain or no, and that had to be depressing. Even though he could obviously feel it when Kim patted him on the thigh.

Which she did before saying, "Anyway, I talked to Zordon. But before I tell you what he said, I want to ask you something."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Okay. You say you have a wolf—"

"I don't know that 'have' is the right word," he objected.

"Billy," she said. "Don't try to get too precise."

"I can't help it," he answered, smiling ruefully. "Yes. It's a wolf."

"Do you..." she hesitated a moment, then, in a rush, "do you feel any animals in us? You said you could feel us, are there animals? In us or the others?"

He cocked his head and regarded her for a long moment, then his eyes drifted to Jason and on around to Tommy. He looked back at her before answering. "Actually, I've only seen Adam once, and he's so ... new. In every way. To me, to the Power... I can't sort him out yet. I don't feel anything in Rocky or Trini, just the Power. But you three." He paused again. Tommy thought he looked a little embarrassed. "Yes. There's something there."

"What is it?" she asked. He hesitated, and she said, chastisingly, "Billy. Come on, you knew this was gonna be mystical when you brought it up the other day."

"I was hoping I was wrong," he said.

Jason snorted. "As if. So, what are they?"

"I don't know... okay. Kim," he looked at her then closed his eyes. "It's... it's a bird. Something graceful and dancing... powerful. A crane, maybe." Without opening his eyes he turned his face towards Tommy. "You... a bird, too, but a raptor. A falcon, I think. And Jase..." His voice softened. "Fierce and unstoppable protector." Jason was blushing, Tommy noticed. "I think... I think it's a bear." He turned back to Kim and opened his eyes. "Well?"

"Omigosh," she said.

"I was rather hoping for a more cogent response than that," he said dryly.

She giggled. "Sorry. It's just... how many animals are there in the world?"

"Individuals or species? Either way, a whole lot. Why?"

"'Cause there are six, that's what the Ninjetti say, six, and you got them."

Tommy realized suddenly what she meant. "My God," he said. "It must be true."

"What must be true and who are the Ninjetti?" Billy asked. "Please, Kimberly?" He made puppy eyes at her.

She giggled at him. Tommy found it incredible to remember he'd once punched Billy out because he was jealous... he dismissed that memory. It had nothing to do with reality. And Kim was talking. "—Alpha, mainly, because Zordon didn't want to talk about it. He kept coming and going and making snide comments about mystics and foolishness. But Alpha was quite helpful. He doesn't believe it, either, but he didn't mind talking about it."

"'It' being?" Billy prompted.

"Something called Ninjetti Spirit Animals," Kim said. "Apparently there are these other kinds of Rangers, not just Morphin Rangers? And one kind is called Ninjetti. Zordon said the Ninjetti Rangers are just like Morphin Rangers, except they don't use... wait a minute, I took notes afterwards." She dug into her backpack. "Here. Morphin Rangers use the Morphin Grid, you know about that. Ninjetti Rangers use something called The Great Power (I think even the 'The' is capitalized). They have Zords, like us, and the whole nine yards." She flipped a page in the notebook. "Okay, the thing is, there are these like mystical offshoots of the Ninjetti called the Ninjetti Adept Masters, and they teach that all Rangers are really Ninjetti at heart. Wait, I skipped something. Okay, the Ninjetti Rangers, they come in six colors, too, except they don't have Green, they have White. And their Zords are like these animals, like ours? Except they're different animals. There's a Wolf—" she looked up at Billy, "—and a Crane and a Falcon and a Bear. And also an Ape and a Frog."

"A frog?" Billy said involuntarily.

"That's what Alpha said. Something about cleverness and adaptability and luck... Anyway. What these Ninjetti Adept Masters say is that all Rangers are capable of being Ninjetti. And that in all Ninjetti is a spirit animal. And that Ninjetti Adepts undertake some sort of spirit quest which gets them in touch with their spirit animal, and then they have a spirit guide. Tommy said it sounded like—well, you tell him, Tommy."

Tommy shrugged. "For a while I was kind of interested in Plains Indian culture," he said. He didn't remember exactly why he'd stopped looking into it, now. "A lot of their cultures had a thing where young warriors went on a spirit quest, looking for their life guide. It was often an animal. Sounds similar, that's all."

"So why does Zordon say it's mystical nonsense?"

Tommy thought Billy sounded like a man desperately waiting for someone to stabilize his world. Well, 'desperately' was probably too strong, Tommy backpedalled. But he was obviously hoping for some rationality to enter the discussion. Well, he was gonna get some but it probably wasn't gonna help. Tommy grinned to himself; he'd realized he believed it when he'd been relieved not to hear the word 'frog'. Or 'monkey'. 'Falcon' was cool.

"Because no Rangers ever go through spirit quests. Even Ninjetti Rangers. They just do what we did. And no Rangers ever notice any spirit animals, either."

"No Rangers ever mention them, at any rate," said Jason. "But most Rangers don't just quit." He stopped abruptly.

"Right," Kim said, covering the silence and not going into what did happen to make most Rangers give up the Power. "See, according to this one record Alpha found, Ninjetti Adept Masters don't approve of Rangers. They say using the Grid or the Great Power or any other tool is, well, cheating. It's too easy. You don't have to study or go on quests or anything else. And they also say that there's somehow too much power that way. It kills the spirit animals. Or drives them away, maybe. Whatever. Being a Ranger, even a Ninjetti Ranger, is being a tool-user. And being an adept is being a mystic."

"So, as I understand it," Billy asked carefully, "in order to be qualified to be a Ranger, you have to be capable of undergoing an adept's spirit quest? But you don't actually do it. So when you access the Power, you somehow acquire a spirit animal, but you don't know you have, and the Power, so to speak, burns the animal out anyway."

"That sounds about right," said Jason.

"Except mine is still here."

"Yours is tough," Tommy said. It was obvious to him. "Like you."

Billy actually blushed. Tommy kept forgetting, because he'd never really seen any reason for it, only heard what the others said, that Billy's self-esteem was new.

"Absolutely," Jason was agreeing, nudging Billy's leg with his foot. "If anybody's spirit animal is gonna be a survivor, it's gonna be yours."

Kim had stuck the notebook back into her backpack. Now she said, "The way Alpha said the Ninjetti Adept Masters talk, you can learn to access the Power after your spirit journey. But the Rangers don't do that."

"Right," Tommy added. "For one thing, it takes a long time, and for another, even Master Adept Masters are no match for a brand new Ranger. Their powers are much weaker."

"They would be, if they're accessing the Power on their own," Billy said, as if that were obvious.

"Hey, bro," Tommy prodded his shoulder. "What do you mean? You understand this?"

"I think I understand it," Billy said thoughtfully. "Zordon is a scientist, not a mystic."

"I'm not sure I get it," Kim returned.

"Well," Billy said, "Clarke's Law notwithstanding—"

"Whoa. Clarke's Law?" Tommy asked.

Billy smiled. "Arthur C. Clarke said 'Any sufficiently developed technology is indistinguishable from magic.'"

"Okay. That's why the natives always think the English guys are gods in the movies," Tommy understood the concept.

"Right. Or why in that Showtime series the Goa'uld can make technically advanced people think they're gods."

"Or why 'Beam me up, Scotty' is the same as 'Abracdabra'?" Kim offered.

"Precisely. And it offends Zordon."

"Sorry," Jason said. "You've lost me. What offends him?"

"That the Morphin Power is something beyond his comprehension."

Jason and the others were quiet for a couple of minutes. Finally, glancing at the others, Tommy ventured, "So, what is the Morphin Power?"

Billy shrugged. "It's magic." He grinned at them. "Seriously, guys, I don't understand it, either. The Grid you can understand—"

"You can understand," put in Kim.

"—it just taps the Power," Billy continued obliviously. "It's a bit odd, because it seems to tap and amplify, rather than merely draw, but... okay," he paused. "Think of it like this: the Morphin Power is a river, or the sun, maybe? It's the actual, natural thing out there generating the power. The Morphin Grid, on the other hand, is a device which the Zordonians—or possibly some other civilization precursing the Zordonians—"

"Hey, time," Tommy T'd his hands. "I've always kind of wondered: Zordon the Zordonian? What kind of a name is that?"

Billy wasn't put off his stride; he was going to be a great teacher, Tommy thought. He shrugged and said, "I don't think it is his name. I think it's like that movie we watched once, Kim, remember? The Hasty Heart?"

"Oh, right," she said. "Digger and Yank and Kiwi... nicknames from where they were from."

"Correct. But, at any rate, whoever built the Morphin Grid, it's not the same thing as the Power. It's a device, like a hydroelectric dam or a solar collection and generation station. It converts the Power into a usable form, and amplifies it into a useful form. The Coins connect the Ranger to the Grid and deliver the amplified Power. The morphers, like the communicators, connect to the Grid as well, performing specific functions. Those functions—morphing, controlling the Zords, teleportation—they seem like magic, but they're all technological in origin."

"Well, sure," said Jason. "I mean, you built the communicators."

"Right. At the time I wasn't familiar enough with the technology to realize the communications subset of the Grid ties into the teleportation subset, but now I do, and I've refined the communicators quite substantially." He bit his lower lip. "But I still don't understand the actual Grid/Power interface very well."

"I don't even understand that sentence," Tommy muttered to Jason.

Jason snickered. Tommy doubted he understood any better, even after five years longer of knowing Billy. Oh, the words he probably did, and the grammar, but then Tommy followed that much, too; it was the idea behind the sentence they were having trouble with."So, what bugs Zordon is that he doesn't understand what the Power is?" Jason asked.

"I imagine so. It bugs me, not understanding something I work with."

Kim laughed. "Takes all kinds," she said. "I'm happy enough starting my car or turning on the TV; I don't need to understand the internal combustion engine or television ray things."

"Same here," said Tommy. "I like working on cars, but I don't have to understand how you can put a lot of information into a radio wave and have it come out pictures and sounds at the other end to watch TV."

"But we know somebody does," said Jason. "I mean, push a button, get a picture, but I know somebody invented television. I know a lot of people understand it. It's not magic."

"Precisely," Billy said. "I mean, I could explain to Aristarchus that his estimates for the size of the moon and the sun and their distances from earth were wrong because his instruments were bad, but could I explain that the entire Library of Alexandria could fit on a compact disc? Could I even explain what a compact disc was?"

"Probably," Kim said supportively.

"Well, thank you, Kim. Perhaps I could. I could certainly explain to him that it was a device and that if he had the physics he could understand it, even if I couldn't quite get him there. But if he had found a compact disc lying on the street in Alexandria, it would never have even occurred to him that it might be an information storage device."

"So," Jason said tentatively, "we're like some ancient Greek guy? We're looking at the Power and saying "magic" because it's technology we don't understand?"

"Actually," Billy said—Jason hated it when he said that, "no. I think that's what Zordon wants to think. It's what makes him comfortable. It's what makes me comfortable: thinking that somewhere there is, or was, someone who built the Power and could explain it to me if he and I tried hard enough."

"Yeah, but nobody built the sun," said Kim. "It just is."

"Precisely. And what makes me uncomfortable is that perhaps the Power is like the sun, rather than like a laptop with a CD-ROM drive. But what makes me really uncomfortable is the idea that it's not even that—I mean, I understand the sun: it's a hydrogen fusion plant with a powerful magnetic field generator thrown in. I don't fully understand the processes that created stars—the First Cause, if you will—but I understand stars. It's like understanding the brain and having no clue—"

"About the mind," said Kim. "Or the soul."

"Yes. It makes me very uncomfortable, and I'm sure it makes Zordon very uncomfortable too. Because these Ninjetti Adept Masters, they don't say, 'this is technology advanced beyond your comprehension', they say 'this is magic'. Right?"

"Yep," said Kim, "that's exactly what they say, according to Alpha. Spirit animals and mystic prayer ceremonies... that's not quite 'push a button, get a Zord'."

"So, you're saying it's like the Force?" asked Tommy, looking for a metaphor he could deal with. Or was it a simile? Whatever...

"I'm saying I'm afraid it's like the Force... even down to the 'hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.'"

"Because," discovered Jason, "whoever built the Grid built it to make the Power useable."

"Right. By itself, the Power is no match for people like Rita or Zedd."

"And if the Grid destroys the spirit animals, or chases them away or whatever, then the fact that Rangers have to be capable of becoming Ninjetti adepts is... oh, what is that saying? Interesting but not relevant?"

"Not entirely relevant," Billy nodded.

"Relevant enough," said Jason as the most important piece of this whole puzzle presented itself before him. Before them all. "Relevant enough to keep you alive after a four-storey fall. Relevant enough that your spirit animal, or whatever, pieced your nervous system back into fairly working order. I mean, that's the bottom line, isn't it?"

"It sure is." Kim leaned forward and hugged Billy almost fiercely.

Jason came out of the chair and put his arms around them both, and Tommy presumed upon his earlier insight and slid off what was fast becoming his regular perch on the table to settle on the bed behind them and wrap his arms tightly around Billy. He felt the shorter boy flinch but didn't even have time to think about letting go before the blond grabbed his arm and held on as tightly as he was being held. Tommy rested his head on Billy's and just supported him, giving his strength without thought or reservation.

Deep inside, the Falcon shivered His wings and opened them to the gale-winds of the Power storm. It snatched Him and He rose with it, balancing on the winds, and He screamed in triumph and joy.

(5)

Mr. Cranston came to dinner on Saturday evening a month after Billy's fall. Jason had seen Billy that afternoon; he was doing a lot better. He'd even wiggled his toes—it was amazing how good something that small could make you feel, Jason had thought at the time. But Billy's dad looked a little wearier than he had the last time Jason had seen him, and towards the end of the meal he told them his news.

"The insurance company wants me to send Bill to Los Angeles," he said.

"Los Angeles!" Jason blurted, then apologized for interrupting.

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Cranston said. "My own reaction was pretty similar."

Jason took that as permission to pursue it. "Are you going to, sir?"

"Yes." He lifted a hand at Jason's expression. "I really don't have much choice. If I don't, the insurance won't pay for any of his rehab. And I can't afford that, and I can't look for another insurance company. No one would pick him up, Jason,—it's a pre-existing condition now."

"That sucks." He spoke without thinking.

"Jason!" his mother rebuked him.

"Well, Linda, I agree with him," Frank said. "But find a different word, son," he added. After a moment's silence, he asked, "How long is it likely to be, Edmund?"

"A couple of months, maybe," he said. "The doctors here..." he shrugged. "They don't really understand what's going on with him. They can't predict how much of a recovery he'll make. You know they didn't even expect him to live." He sighed.

Linda Scott nodded. "But he is, Edmund. And he's getting better every day. If the doctors are baffled, well, I say that's a small price to pay."

Edmund smiled at her. "You think it's a bonus, in fact."

She smiled again, mischievously. Like most nurses, she had a complicated reaction to doctors. Jason remembered her comment on seeing a book in the window of the local bookstore, something subtitled Doctors Talk About Themselves: "Do they ever!" she'd said. Now Linda took the plate from in front of Edmund, touching his shoulder lightly, and moved to get her husband's.

Edmund summarized. "I wish he could stay here, but that's not possible under the current health care situation in this country."

Jason recognized that tone from too many conversations with Billy. He also realized that he had sat there and let his mom start clearing the table and his dad hadn't said anything about it. He jumped up and finished the job, a sinking feeling inside him. After Edmund Cranston had gone home, Jason turned to his parents. "Dad—"

"No," Frank didn't even let him get the question asked. "I'm sorry, Jason, but no. L.A. is too far. You're only seventeen, you've been driving less than a year. I'm not going to let you go down there. I know you'll miss him, and he'll miss you, but that's why there are telephones. You can talk to him all you want. But I'm not letting you get on that freeway and I'm not letting you drive in L.A. We'll go when we can. That's final, Jason. Don't argue it with me."

And he knew that tone, too. But he had to try. "But, a couple of months—Dad, it's November now. He'll be there over Christmas."

"Jason, you know the Cranstons don't... Son, we'll go at Christmas. But you are not going to drive to L.A. on your own. It's not going to happen."

Billy stared at the phone for ... well, he wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been sitting there. He reached out and touched the airline ticket. Part of him—a huge part—wanted to forget this whole idea. Wanted to just catch a cab at the airport and go home by himself, let a cabbie he'd never seen before and would, hopefully, never see again wrestle his chair in and out of the car and watch him into his house—his own house— and then just stay there, alone, until he had to go out on Monday. In fact there was a rather large part of him, a part that he knew would get bigger if he opted for the cab, that didn't even want to return to Angel Grove High, just wanted to go for a GED and early graduation and ...

He sighed. Luka—he'd had to give her a name, he couldn't keep on calling her "the wolf"; even if she were nothing more than a figment of his imagination and he didn't think she was, she was far too intense, too persistent, too real for that—Luka had managed to let him know that she didn't approve of that. She thought he needed his pack around him. And he couldn't convince her that he didn't have a pack, other than his father. She knew better.

So did he.

The phone was picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

In spite of himself Billy found himself smiling at the sound. "Hello, Mrs. Scott," he said. "This is Billy Cranston—"

"Billy! How nice to hear your voice again. It's been too long," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you," he said. "It's good to hear you again, too. I was hoping I could talk to Jason."

"He's upstairs, Billy. I'll get him."

Jason came on very soon; he must have run for the phone. "Billy—man, what's up?"

"I need a favor."

"Hey, anything, buddy. What?"

"I'm tempted to request something truly extravagant—"

"You might just get it, too. What do you need?"

"A ride home from the airport Thursday," Billy said.

"Home? They're cutting you loose?"

Jason's happiness warmed Billy. "More like, kicking me out."

"Whatever, buddy... it's about time. What airport? Santa Barbara? I'll be there—your dad out of town again?"

"Yes," Billy said. "Till Tuesday. It's okay, I don't mind... I've been kind of expensive recently, I'm afraid."

"He doesn't mind, either," Jason said. Billy hadn't needed to hear that; his conversation with his father had been entirely satisfactory, and he was rather more pleased than not to have no audience for his first few days home. But he was glad his friend hadn't misunderstood. Jason added, "When's the flight?"

"Just come when you get out of school; I'll wait there." Don't be greedy.

"Forget that, Billy. I'll cut—when?"

"Your parents might object to that."

"For this? The day I have to even ask them about something like this..." Jason snorted. "What time?"

"Two thirty-five," Billy capitulated.

"Cool. I'll be there. I can't wait to see you, you know that. I can't wait to tell the others, we'll have a party—"

"Jase—please. I'd like at least a few days to get, well, reacclimated before..." His voice trailed off as he tried to think of the right way to phrase that request in order to avoid hurting anyone's feelings.

But Jason understood what he meant. "Before you get mobbed to death?" he said, amused sympathy in his deep voice. "No problem, I should have realized. But not too long, okay, Billy? The others want to see you, too."

"Perhaps on Saturday?"

"Cool. I won't even tell them, just get them all over at the juice bar Saturday afternoon. It won't be hard. And I'll be there at two thirty to meet your flight."

Billy hung up feeling good. And Luka raised her head and smiled.

Jason came back to the arrivals lounge after checking that he was at the right gate. This time, he saw Billy, being strainedly polite to a woman who was looking at him as if he were very fragile and precious. Jason empathized with her, but he was sure Billy was a hair away from being rude. He almost wanted to see it—it would have been practically a first, his mom had once described his friend as 'so well-behaved it's frightening'—but he knew Billy would regret it later. So he yelled at him, and she had to admit he was going to be in capable hands, even though Jason let his enthusiasm carry him into an OJ over the last row of chairs.

He braked to a precipitous halt directly in front of Billy, looking down at him very seriously. "Are you going to break if I grab you?"

"I might if you don't," Billy said.

That was all Jason needed. He reached down and swooped his friend up in possibly the tightest hug he'd ever given anybody. Not that Billy seemed to feel like complaining about it; in fact, he was hanging on at least that tightly, himself. "God, it's good to see you," Jason said against the side of his neck. "Missed you, man, missed you like crazy."

"Same here," Billy said softly, holding on like he was drowning.

Jason had always, the seven years they'd known each other, been the taller, and now he was holding Billy completely off the floor. He had braced himself for the weight, but he thought, even though it had only been just over two months since he'd seen him, that Billy had lost maybe ten or fifteen pounds. He couldn't afford that, Jason thought, feeling a surge of anger that made him tighten his grip even more. They were supposed to look after him in LA.

That train of thought was derailed when Billy said, still softly but now with a trace of amusement, or at least what he hoped was amusement, "Jason, I do need to breathe."

"Sorry, man," Jason said, relaxing his grip.

Billy's feet touched the floor, but he didn't sit back down. Instead, he leaned against the taller boy, his hands fisted in the back of Jason's sweatshirt, and just stood there, his face against Jason's chest. Jason could feel him trembling slightly, and he didn't think it was from being on his feet. Not giving a damn what anybody in the Santa Barbara Airport might think, he put one of his hands in Billy's thick blond hair and held him gently, letting him rest against him as long as he wanted to. And I was supposed to let you sit here for two, two and a half hours waiting on me? he thought.

After a minute he realized why he hadn't spotted Billy right off. The sweater under his left hand was a soft moss green, and the shirt collar he was staring at was some light brown. No blue. No blue at all. He sighed to himself and laid his cheek on his friend's head. Billy had worn a lot of blue before they'd been chosen, and—like the rest of them with their own colors—practically nothing else since. In his place, would I want to put on red?

This might be harder than he'd thought, he realized.

Billy pulled away lightly, and Jason let go as he sat down in the chair, straightening his sweater and raking his hand through his hair. The sweater did a lot for his eyes, Jason realized, he'd never seen them look so green. Or so tear-bright, for that matter, not in years and years. He dropped to his heels beside the chair. Before he could say anything, Billy said, "Sorry, Jase—"

"Hey," Jason said. "It's me. You can ask for it, you know. You're allowed. And you're gonna get it whether you do or not. Billy—" he overrode whatever was coming next. "There was a hole in my life while you were gone. Damned if I'm going to let you apologize for filling it back up. Now," he said more briskly, before Billy decided he'd used up about four years' worth of emotional expression in the last ten minutes and closed down entirely. Or broke down. "You got much luggage?"

Billy blinked at him from behind the bronze-framed lenses he'd gone back to wearing, and then went along with it. "No," he said. "Two bags and that." He gestured at a small piece of dark gray carry-on.

"Good," Jason said, standing and picking that up. "By now, we should be able to grab it. I parked in the white zone; if I got a ticket, can you be pathetic?"

Billy smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I expect I can evoke the desired reaction," he said. "I seem to be able to without trying." He reached for the carry-on.

Jason dropped it in his lap. "Your lady friend?"

Billy gave him a speaking look.

"That's just 'cause she doesn't know you like I do," he said, worrying slightly. "If she did, it's the last word she'd think of."

Billy settled the bag to his satisfaction and then said, with an edge of frustration in his voice, "I don't have that much time."

"You are an acquired taste," Jason admitted. "But we like you."

"Oh, thanks." But he meant it. Jason relaxed a little more. "How are the others?" Billy asked, pivoting his chair neatly and heading for the ramp to the luggage area.

"Doing pretty well," Jason said, matching his stride to Billy's speed. "They'll be glad to see you back."

"Grade point averages sliding, are they?" Billy teased.

"I guess we don't call you Brainiac for nothing," Jason agreed. "You nailed it. They're dropping like a stone. I'm down to a 3.2."

"Tsk, tsk. Can't have that." Billy braked just outside the luggage area and looked with some disfavor at the gate, which was just too narrow for his chair. "Isn't this against the law now?" he asked rhetorically.

"Yeah," Jason answered anyway. "For new buildings. I'll get your bags; which ones?"

"That duffle bag, and that dark brown overnighter."

"That's all?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Billy shrugged. "I didn't need much. There wasn't a lot to get dressed up for."

"Guess not." He grabbed the bags, slinging the duffle over his shoulder, and rejoined his friend. "Just as well, anyway," he added as they went outside into the pale winter sunlight.

"Might I inquire for what reason?" Billy raised an eyebrow.

"Well," Jason grinned at him, "Mom said, take the station wagon, but I figured the Mazda was more appropriate."

"Your dad's RX-7?" Billy sounded incredulous.

"Yeah." Jason gestured at the red convertible, mercifully free of parking tickets. "So, was I right, or should I put the top up?"

"No. I mean, yes. You were right... don't take this the wrong way, Jase, but, does he know you took it?"

"Nice," Jason said. "See if I ever get this car for you again."

"That threat has very little credibility," Billy said.

"Okay," he conceded. It was, after all, the first time his dad had let him drive it. "Yes, he knows. I probably shouldn't tell you this, it'll be bad for you, but he's not so much letting me drive it as he is letting you ride in it."

"I'll have to thank him."

"Yes, you will. Make sure he knows exactly how much you appreciated it." Jason grinned at him as he opened the trunk. "Will that fold up and go in here, or in the back, or what?"

Billy leveraged himself out of the chair and leaned against the side of the car, his face raised to the sun. "In the trunk is fine. Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you expected back soon?"

He shook his head. "Mom wanted me to bring you home—I know, but she thinks you're too young to be alone anyway. I told her I'd stay over at your place unless you kicked me out, so, no. I'm not expected. Why?"

"Would you mind a detour?"

He shook his head again. "Where to?"

"Nowhere. Just, up the coast road maybe?"

He held out his hand. "Here, twist my arm," he said. "The RX-7 on the coast road? I don't mind at all."

"Maybe," Billy said, a very small smile tugging his lips, "pretty fast?"

"Tell him you loved it." Jason got the chair flat into the trunk and wedged the overnight bag and the little gray one on top of it. He decided the trunk was full and slammed it shut. Billy had tossed the duffle bag into the back and gotten himself settled in. Jason slid in behind the wheel. "Buckle up," he said, "and check in the glove box."

Billy did, smiling and shaking his head as he pulled out the sunglasses he found there. "Where did you get these?" he said, hooking his other glasses at the neck of his sweater and putting the shades on.

"From your house," Jason answered, putting his own shades on. "You gonna be getting contacts again, now that you're back?"

"I don't know. Probably." Billy shrugged. "Glasses are a lot less trouble, as long as I'm not fighting off putties or something every day."

"Yeah, I can see where that might be a problem." And then he snickered. He couldn't help it.

"What?"

"Nothing, man. It's just—remember the first fight we were ever in? You actually told the putties to wait while you took your glasses off. And they did. I don't think they knew what was going on."

For just a moment, Jason was worried that he'd guessed wrong. Then Billy laughed, genuinely, and said, "It was just too bad I'd had exactly forty minutes of karate classes and consequently had absolutely no idea what I was going to do after that. Except get the crap kicked out of me, in all probability." He laughed again. "Which I was pretty good at, as I recall."

"Yeah, well, you got out of practice at that." Jason could have bitten out his tongue as soon as he heard the words.

But Billy took it as it had been meant. "Thanks to you."

"Not a problem, buddy." Jason looked in the mirror and eased the convertible out of the parking lot.

At the first red light they came to, a pair of pretty Valley Girls in a Range Rover giggled and waved at them. "Definitely tell my dad how much you appreciated this," Jason said, waving back at them. Billy smiled.

Once on the coast Jason headed north, toward Big Sur, cranked up the radio, and opened the car up to about sixty. It was faster than was legal, faster than he'd have driven on his own, a lot faster than his father would have been happy with, and maybe a little faster than was entirely safe, but safe wasn't what they were going for at the moment. He knew he was a good enough driver to handle it, and the car was certainly good enough. And maybe that was making excuses, maybe he was being reckless and irresponsible, but the look on Billy's face validated the choice.

Because right now, Billy was an eighteen-year-old looking at a long life of being safe. Of being taken care of. Of being treated like he was breakable. Broken. Sure, Billy had probably always been destined for an academic career, and he'd still be able to do that, but Jason honestly didn't know how Billy had stayed sane; his friend wasn't an athlete, in the sense that he lived for physical competition, but he was a fair gymnast, a better than fair pick-up basketball player, at least with his friends, and an enthusiastic if not very good volleyball player. It had to be damned hard not to be able to even walk down the street any more. Not to mention—well, those Valley Girls had seen two good-looking boys in an expensive red sports car. That woman in the airport had seen 'pathetic'...

And making it all worse was that Billy had to give up the Power, had to let Adam Park become the Blue Ranger. Jason literally couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose his link to the Morphin Grid. After the first time he'd reached into it, every one of his senses had been heightened. Life itself was more alive. And he remembered vividly being cut off from it... How could any spirit animal, any touch of psi, any half-measure compensate for that? To lose that, to retain only the little touch, after the real thing, that was Ninjetti and at the same time end up in a wheelchair physically, too—he'd had nightmares about it for more than a month.

He couldn't do much to fix Billy's life, couldn't fix his legs or give him back the Power. But he could damned well refuse to treat him like he was pathetic.

They cruised on up the coast, the old two-lane highway that got narrower and twistier the further north they went through the hills, the spectacular dropoffs and Pacific on their left. About a hundred and seventy miles later, he glanced at Billy, who had relaxed against the seat. "Carmel in twenty miles," he said. "You want to stop for supper?"

"I could eat," Billy said, sounding vaguely surprised.

"We're gonna need gas soon anyway. I wonder if we could get in the Hog's Breath."

"We could inquire," said Billy.

"Not," Jason realized, "that I have enough money to eat there. Does Carmel even have Mickey D's?"

"I don't know," Billy said, straightening up and laughing a little. "Probably it has something for tourists with little or no cash left. Or there's Pacific Grove. Or that place in Monterey Rocky raves about—"

"It closed," Jason said; he'd always regretted not getting up there to see it.

"Most unfortunate," Billy said. "However, if you'll let me pick up the tab as recompense for the driving, I do have a gold card with me."

"I don't mind the driving," Jason understated, "but I will let you buy me dinner. Some place classy in Carmel, to go with the car. Too bad I'm not dressed for it."

"You're merely fashionably scruffy," Billy countered, smiling.

"Who's scruffy??" Jason demanded in his best Han Solo voice. But he figured Billy was right: the combination of the car, the gold card, and Billy's preppy good looks would get him accepted even if they went someplace really classy, not just expensive.

At the gas station, they decided to try the Hog's Breath. Jason pulled into a handicapped spot in front of the famous restaurant.

"Jason, this is Carmel," Billy pointed out. "You will get a ticket. And it will be quite expensive."

"Nah," Jason waved that off. "I snagged this from your place when I got the sunglasses." He extracted a temporary permit from the back of the sunvisor and hung it on the rearview mirror. "C'mon, you earned it. Damn planet doesn't know what we do for it, but at least you can grab premium parking."

"I suppose," Billy said.

Jason decided to take that as an enthusiastic agreement. "I'll get the chair out," he said.

"This close, I don't need it," Billy objected. "I've got crutches in the duffel bag; they'll be a lot less obtrusive in a restaurant."

Jason nodded and reached over the seat back to pull the duffle bag upright. He had noticed it was a bit rigid, now he knew why. Billy unsnapped the top hook and pulled out a pair of those aluminum forearm crutches that had been stuffed down along the side.

"Anything in there you'll mind if you lose?" Jason asked. "'Cause I don't think it'll fit in the trunk."

"Nothing in there but some clothes," Billy said, leaning against the Mazda and sliding his arms into the tops of the crutches. "If somebody did steal them, I'd be grateful."

Jason had seen the blue inside the bag. He didn't say anything, just waited until Billy had gotten his balance and walked beside him to the restaurant door.

By the time they got inside Jason could see the strain on Billy's face, but he knew better than to mention it. His decision was justified as they waited; the strain eased, and by the time the hostess came up to them Billy was back to normal. As it turned out, they could be seated in about twenty minutes, if they wanted to wait... "at the bar?" she offered hesitantly after a glance at Billy.

"Thanks," said Jason. He hadn't missed the flicker in her eyes, but he figured she didn't want them trying to order drinks. He reassured her by saying to Billy, "I heard they have great iced tea here—they put orange slices in instead of lemons."

"Intriguing," Billy said.

Jason was relieved to see the Hog's Breath was anything but formal. Well, anything but formal or cheap, he amended that to. He fit right in with the casually dressed crowd. He looked around, but didn't see Clint Eastwood. Oh, well. They ordered iced tea—the orange slices gave it a very interesting taste, Jason thought he'd try it at home—and watched CNN on the TV over the bar until they were seated.

Billy was pretty good with the crutches. Well, Jason reflected, that was why he'd been in Los Angeles, after all. Plus he'd really outgrown that appalling awkwardness a year or so ago. The gymnastics had finally paid off, he'd been pretty graceful there for a while... Oh, man, don't start thinking like that, he brought himself up short. But he couldn't seem to find a topic of conversation they could stay on for more than a few sentences, and by the time their food came, he was ready to just be quiet. If Billy wanted to talk, well, he was there. If he didn't, it was sure as hell understandable. And there wasn't any strain between them; they just weren't talking. And that was okay, Jason thought, watching Billy eat as though he were really hungry, as though he hadn't really eaten in a while. It was more than okay.

Billy handed over his credit card when the waiter came by. Jason dropped some bills on the table for the tip, cleaning himself out, and said, "I'm gonna hit the john and then find a phone. If I don't call home soon, my parents are gonna be convinced we're a twisted pile of smoldering iron somewhere."

"We should have called earlier," Billy acknowledged.

"It's okay," Jason said. "It's not late enough yet for them to worry. I just better call before we get back on the road. While there's a phone around."

He waited while it rang, planning what he was going to say. "Hi, mom," he said when she answered, "just calling to let you know I picked him up and everything's okay."

"That's good to hear. Are you at his house?"

"Ummm, no. Actually, we haven't gotten back into town yet."

"Jason Lee Scott, you haven't had an accident with your father's car, have you?"

"No, mom. Not at all. Billy wanted to eat out," he said. "If we hadn't, it would have been pizza," he added, hoping her nutritional instincts would kick in.

"Oh. Well, of course," she said. "Are you still in Santa Barbara?"

"Yeah, we are." Okay, it was a lie. But it was easier than saying 'no, we're more than halfway to San Francisco and the mood Billy's in, we might end up going there before the night is over.' One unexpected side effect to being a Ranger: he could lie to his parents a lot better now. "We'll be heading back to Angel Grove soon. I'll be at Billy's later, if you need to get in touch with me."

"Okay, dear. Drive carefully, now."

"Yes, mom. I will." He hung up.

Billy was already in the car; Jason joined him. He settled his shades and said, neutrally, "North? Or south?"

Billy hesitated for a minute, then said, "We'd better go to Angel Grove. It would be unfortunate if your father reported this car stolen."

"It would. Especially if I ever want to borrow it again. And I do."

So he pulled out heading south. They drove in silence along the old Pacific Highway for more than a half an hour. And then Billy spoke, as if picking up a conversation they'd just let drop. "You think Rocky's going to get the school record?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah, I do. I mean, he's got, what, six games left, and all he needs is ten points and three assists. He can do that in one half, not even trying."

"When's the next game?"

"Sunday. You up for it?"

"Don't want to miss Rocky's big night," Billy said. The words might have been open to interpretation but the tone wasn't. Billy meant it.

Jason wasn't really surprised. Billy might be at best mildly interested in organized athletics, even those of AGHS, but he'd always been there to cheer for his friends. "Great," Jason said. "We're all going. It'll be like old times."

"Indeed. I presume Ernie is planning a party?"

"Yep. Of course, we can't tell Rocky—"

"No," Billy agreed. "No matter how often the irrationality of the concept is explained to him, he still believes that prior discussion of success somehow prevents it."

"Doesn't he just. But we do have a party planned. Two in one weekend—making up for lost time."

"Might as well just jump in the deep end."

Okay. "We've got a lot to make up for."

"Not really."

Jason slowed down slightly as a tricky curve came up. By the time he'd negotiated the one in the highway he'd figured out Billy's. I'm a little out of practice, he realized. "Glad you think so. Adam especially is a bit nervous."

"Did you tell them I was back?"

"No, you said not to. Didn't even tell them you were coming. Rocky thinks we're meeting to work out, and the others think it's to plan Rocky's party."

"Adam doesn't have anything to be nervous about."

"Yeah. I think that's why he is." Jason slowed down even more. "Let's pull off up here," he pointed at one of the overlooks. "This road, this car, this conversation—it's one too many for comfort."

Billy nodded. "If you want. I'm done, though—I have nothing further to say on the topic."

"I do." Jason checked his mirrors and slowed the convertible down, pulling up next to the low wall.

Billy opened the door and pulled himself out of the car, using it as a support to make his way to sit on the wall, looking out over the ocean. The sun was ending its descent and was in their faces as Jason joined him, settling next to him on the rough stone and swinging his legs over to dangle above the plunge to the rocky coastline. That precipice made him a trifle nervous, remembering involuntarily the last time Billy had been near a drop-off. He tried to say something to cover it, but what he came up with still touched the subject. "Remember when we came up here in sixth grade, and Zack tried to climb down to take pictures of the sea lions? Was that here?"

"When he broke the telescopic lens on your mother's camera?"

"Off her camera, I think you mean. Yeah, that time."

"I believe that was another ten or fifteen miles further up the road," Billy said.

"And he wasn't even fazed."

"As I recall," Billy smiled, "he wanted to borrow someone else's camera and try again."

"No wonder his parents moved to Des Moines," Jason chuckled. "Flat country."

Billy nodded. After a moment, he said, "I meant it, Jason. As far as I am concerned, there's nothing anyone has to 'make up for'. I've made my peace with what happened to me, and, considering how much worse it could have been, I'm reasonably content with the status quo. I certainly don't want any of the Rangers, especially Adam, to feel any apprehension about my return."

"Good," Jason said briskly. "I'm really glad to hear it. And you're still going to hang out with us?"

"Of course. Presuming that I'm still invited to," he added.

Jason gave him a hard look. He didn't by any means want Billy thinking he was wanted only for what he could contribute to the Rangers, to be ignored if he wasn't on the team anymore. He'd sooner not ask him at all than make him think that. But the flip side was Billy thinking he didn't have a contribution, and that was as bad. After a moment, Jason decided that if Billy hadn't known before how much he was wanted for himself, well, today should have shown him. And if not, Jason could tackle it when it came up. "Don't be an idiot," he said for the moment. "Of course you are."

Billy shrugged slightly. "Jase, things have changed a bit," he pointed out, but he didn't look particularly upset, and his tone was light. "I mean, you guys do have things to do, monsters to fight, worlds to save."

"Yes, we do," Jason agreed. "But it's not like you don't know about it. In fact, that's what I wanted to talk about. Yesterday I talked with Zordon. You know you can't be a Ranger any more, but Zordon agreed with me: we need you in the Command Center. If you want it, that is."

Billy pulled off his sunglasses. Jason was close enough he didn't need to put his others on to see his face. The dark-haired boy pulled his own shades off, laying them on the wall, so that Billy could see his eyes and waited. After a long while, Billy said, "Want what, precisely?"

"Zordon called it 'coadjutor'. I call it, getting the guy who's pulled off more saves than Dennis Eckersley back where he can do us some good. If you're okay with it."

"Okay with it?"

"Yeah." Jason honestly wasn't sure if Billy would want to or not. God knew, he'd always loved messing around with the technology in the Command Center, and he also loved being needed, being useful, being wanted—well, who didn't—but would he want to deal with watching the rest of them morph? Would the chance to retain what he could balance the constant reminder of what he couldn't have? Jason had no way to judge; while his own value to the Rangers was, as was Billy's, exactly the same as what he did well, it was purely physical, and in like condition to Billy's there'd be nothing he could do and no reason to ask him. But Billy—he'd meant it when he told Zordon that they'd double their effectiveness with Billy back in the Command Center. So he was prepared to argue the point, unless it was obvious that Billy really couldn't stand the idea; like that guy had said in The Great Escape, you have to ask some strange things in this job. "Are you?"

"No," Billy said. "'Okay with it' doesn't begin to describe my feelings. Jason, are you sure Zordon said it was permissible?"

Jason felt like a huge weight had dropped off his shoulders. He laughed out loud, reaching into his pocket. "Yeah, I'm sure, buddy. 'Once a Ranger, always a Ranger', more or less. Here." He held out one of the spare communicators—Billy's invention, he'd pointed out to Zordon, one of his better arguments.

Billy took it, his eyes still on Jason's face; unbuckling his watch he slipped the communicator over his wrist. "More less than more, maybe, but—thanks, Jason."

"For nothin'," Jason said, reaching out and tousling Billy's already wind-blown hair. "I mean it: we need you."

"You have me. Anything I can do." The words negated the almost automatic knocking away of Jason's hand. "Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to ask you something, and I want you to, to think carefully before you answer, and to tell me the truth. I don't mean, don't lie; I mean, actually answer."

Jason shifted his weight a little uneasily. Billy didn't initiate this sort of conversation often, or at least he hadn't; he liked what he called 'a decent reticence' and the Scotts called 'bottling things up'. But when he did, it could be rough; when that laser-like mind decided to target the reasons you were doing something, you could get some surprises. He took a breath and nodded.

"You seem... inordinately pleased by my decision. Even surprised."

"I'm glad," he said.

"But surprised. And when you sat down here, you seemed uneasy. Worried perhaps a better word. What were you worried about, Jase? That I might fall? Or that I might jump?" He made that little noise of his, the one that wasn't a laugh but signified that something vaguely amusing had just been said. "Throw myself off, more like."

"Neither," Jason said automatically. Then, because he had, even if not out loud, promised to be honest, he added, "Both. Either... I don't know."

"I thought so." Billy sounded more pensive than pissed off, Jason was glad to note. He looked out over the ocean, though, as he hadn't put either pair of glasses back on, he was seeing only a mass of colors. Jason thought it must be like looking at an abstract painting of the world, though with 20/10 vision he'd never been able to really figure what it was like to be as unable to see as his friend was. After a moment's silence Billy said, "I might fall; you might as well. There are certainly safer places to sit than this, though few if any more beautiful. But I am not going to jump. Jason, believe me: I am not the slightest bit suicidal."

He'd turned suddenly to look at Jason when he said that; Jason wasn't sure what expression was on his face because he hadn't realized earlier he'd even had that in his mind. He had, he knew now, because he wasn't sure himself he could have stood it. But before he could say anything, Billy sighed and put his sunglasses back on.

"Trust me on this, Jase," he said softly. "I am not suicidal. I know what suicidal feels like and this is not it. At worst this is a mild melancholy."

"Mild?" Jason blurted involuntarily.

Billy's mouth twisted in acknowledgement, but he insisted, "Yes. This could be so much worse, and I've spent nine weeks living with people who were so much worse. At least I didn't actually sever my spinal cord. I'm not paralyzed. I don't have to breathe by machine. I'm not hooked up to a catheter. I'm not strapped into my chair. I'm not in constant pain." It had the sound of a litany, Jason thought. "I don't need a nurse. I can dress myself. I can bathe myself. I can stand up, if I don't do it too fast, and I can even walk ten or twenty yards with crutches, and that should improve... and MIT doesn't care if I'm in a wheelchair, though to be honest I'm not sure about AGHS... I would, to be honest, since we are, truly prefer that it hadn't happened. But this is not despair, Jason, and you don't have to worry about that. Do you remember," he said abruptly, turning to glance briefly at him, "when we first met?"

Jason nodded. He wasn't likely to forget that day; it had been the first real fight he'd been in since he started studying martial arts. It was exactly the kind of fight you were supposed to be in, which made it good as well as oddly exciting: three sixth graders who had cornered a smaller kid in the park. When he'd jumped into the middle of it he'd noticed three things: it was a particularly vicious attack, the smaller kid wasn't fighting back, and he was vaguely familiar. By the time Jason had routed the sixth-graders, who weren't interested in acquiring pain of their own, he'd placed the other boy: they were in the same class at school. They hadn't spoken to each other in the week since school had started, but Jason had noticed the new boy sitting in the back of the class and not saying anything to anybody. It was a bit odd, that; since they didn't have assigned seating in Mrs. Hardwick's class, the kids who sat in the back were more usually the beaters than the beatees. He had asked Billy his name, helped him find his glasses, and, disturbed by his dazed condition as much as the blood and bruises, dragged him home to his mother's professional care.

She, after applying ice and brownies (externally and internally, respectively), had called Billy's dad at work to invite the boy for dinner, since she didn't think that, although he wasn't really hurt, he should be home alone until eight. Billy had ended up staying until nine, impressing the elder Scotts with his manners and matter-of-fact clearing of the table, and Jason by his ability to shred the rerun of Battlestar Galactica into tatters. That would probably have impressed his parents, too, if they'd been paying any attention to it, but they weren't. They did pay attention when Billy came over the next day, Saturday, and helped Jason with the math he'd been struggling with—not just doing it, or even showing him how to do it, but actually, effectively explaining to him what he'd been doing wrong. Impressed by Billy's quiet sense of humor and responding to his unspoken need for a friend, Jason had already decided to be one, and to introduce him to Zack on Monday, before he heard his parents talking about how Billy's dad seemed surprised though pleased that Billy had a friend.

Now Jason realized Billy was waiting for an answer. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I remember it."

"Usually, I ran," Billy said. "I wasn't big at ten, but I could run, and being small I could generally get away. That day, I wasn't trying. I thought, if I let them kick me to death, it would save everyone a lot of trouble."

"What?" Jason was sure he hadn't heard that right.

Billy shrugged slightly. "If I'd managed to get killed, it might have stopped them. And would have saved my father some grief."

"How the hell do you figure that?" Jason interrupted.

"I don't, now," Billy said. "But then, as I was planning on killing myself that weekend anyway—"

"You weren't." That was a flat denial.

"I was." That was an equally flat assertion. "Don't look like that; it was a long time ago."

"Eight years. That's not that long a time."

"Almost half my life. And I changed my mind, anyway."

Jason stared at his friend. "For God's sake, Billy. Why? Why would you—" he couldn't say it.

"I don't know if I can tell you, Jase. I was ten. I was miserable. I don't remember exactly how it felt. I remember feeling like that, I know I don't feel like that now, but... we don't perceive things the same way, you know. Memories are immediate for you, tactile. For me most memories are filtered through words—most perceptions go through words. The memories that wake me up in the middle of the night, they aren't, and they're the ones I can't effectively deal with. But anything I can make verbal I can control. So now, looking back, I can see that ten-year-old, but I can't be him."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he sighed. "I was so miserable, so desperately miserable... You weren't just the best thing that had happened to me in over a year, Jase, you were the only good thing that had happened. I'm not saying there was something horrible happening every single day, but life had become one long ache of despair punctuated only by disaster and tragedy. I was probably," he said, his tone sounding as if hearing himself say it, probably for the first time, had made him realize this, "clinically depressed. I should in all likelihood have been in therapy, on medication, like my dad was then. But he was so overextended just making it through each individual day that he didn't have the strength to chase me down and interrogate me about my emotional state. And, considering the number of times you've barked at me for doing it, it won't surprise you that I was keeping everything tucked neatly away inside where it wouldn't bother anyone."

"Why do you do that?" Jason asked involuntarily.

Billy smiled wryly. "It's the Cranston way," he said. "We're all like that... He hadn't given up on me, mind you; he'd go to parent-teacher conferences and they'd tell him how I was bright and motivated and working to the best of my abilities, all of which was untrue. Even, really, a lie, because I wasn't any of those things but I pretended I was. He probably knew at some level that it was not well with the child, but he simply did not have the strength to do anything more than he was."

"Was it because of your mom?" Jason asked. That was an awkward subject to bring up. His own mother had told him, when she finally connected Billy's father to it, about the accident, the drunk driver, how Billy, in the back seat, had been unscratched but pinned in the car, watching his mother die while the paramedics tried to get to her. Billy rarely mentioned her, and he hadn't at all for several years after they'd met. And he'd never discussed her actual death, the wreck, anything. Not once. But this conversation wasn't one to leave things out of.

Billy was looking out over the ocean at the setting sun. The light burnished his dark blond hair, turned his shades to liquid gold and flashed off the lenses of the glasses hanging from the neckline of his sweater, blinking with his breathing. "Yes," he said softly. "That was what was wrong with him. Oh, Jase." He sighed. "You have no idea what he was like when she was alive. The two of them laughed all the time. They finished each other's sentences. They loved each other so much it was a tangible presence in the house, a warmth all the time, just surrounding me, and them. It was... After she died, the house was like Hell—'a lord's great kitchen without fire in't'," he quoted something Jason didn't recognize, but the words were no bleaker than the tone. "The wreck very nearly killed him, too, not just the physical injuries he sustained, but the grievous psychic hurt he still hasn't really recovered from."

"It doesn't sound like it was easy on you, either."

"No," Billy said simply. "But there was more; that wasn't the only circumstance contributing to my emotional state, it was merely the worst, especially since not only did her death deprive me of her, of her strength and support, but of him and his as well."

"Tell me about it." Jason's invitation was just short of a command. He doubted Billy had ever said any of this aloud before, and he needed to. Not only because he'd been right about himself, words were his forte, but because—Cranston way or not—he'd been sitting on it way the hell too long and right now was not the best of times for him to be in any way troubled. Jason didn't think talking about it would make it go away, he wasn't that naïve, but he also didn't think that a trouble shared was a trouble doubled... "What else was there?"

Billy didn't look away from the sunset. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't say anything, but then he sighed. "First we moved. I did not want to. I truly loved Cincinnati—I know," he said, reacting to Jason's reaction even though he couldn't see it. They knew each other that well. "The city had libraries, echoing caverns filled with books, and reading rooms you could curl up in an armchair and read all day in. Museums. Very much in the plural. Terrific public transport: I could get anywhere I wanted to go. The school I went to challenged me. Weather—four actual seasons, sometimes six. Not just rain and fire. Snow... I did not want to move to Angel Grove. I was eight; I wasn't consulted. My mother said I'd like it here once I got used to it, that progressing with my age peers would be sociologically more satisfying. As it was," he conceded, "once I found age peers who preferred progressing with me to assaulting me... Then school started, and it was not challenging. I think I went the entire year without learning a single new thing. Seriously. In fact, the first three weeks of school I spent nine days in detention before being made forcibly to accept the still-incredible fact that they would rather I was bored out of my mind than reading a textbook the other kids weren't reading—"

"I don't remember you in third grade," Jason said. "I know we weren't in the same class..."

Billy shook his head. "No, I wasn't in Blue Spring the first year we lived here. I was in Pine Creek. They redistricted that summer, because of the subdivisions going up on the south side? I thought about killing myself that summer, but decided to wait when I heard I'd be in a different school. I thought there might be a chance things would improve."

"You gave it a week?"

"It was enough. Fourth grade didn't challenge me, either. Nor fifth—"

"Or sixth," Jason said. "Or since. Man, you're going to walk in there Monday and not miss a beat, aren't you?"

Billy shrugged it off. "They slacked off on me," he said. "Now they don't care what I do during class as long as I'm quiet and pass the tests—" he ignored Jason's snorted 'pass'. "But even if I were still fairly bored, that's only an element. You, and the others, you gave me interests. Made me learn how to play volleyball, of all things. Plus, I never got beaten up again after I met you. Picked on, certainly, punched out once or twice, but not beaten up. But before then, I spent the whole of third grade with bruises, especially since they graded on the curve in Pine Creek, and wanting to kill oneself is not an acceptable excuse for poor grades." Even he knew how that sounded, but his half-smile didn't get into his voice. "The entire previous school year had been mind-numbing boredom punctuated by terror and my first week at Blue Spring was no different; after all, I wasn't the only child who switched schools after the redistricting, and my reputation came with me." He sighed again and was briefly silent.

When he started talking again, his voice was calm. "But the crux is, nothing else was any different, either. I hadn't been happy since before my ninth birthday, and I thought I never would be again. My mother died five weeks after school started. It was... horrific." His voice was still calm, but Jason reached out and gripped his shoulder anyway; despite his belief that Billy should talk about it, he was very cowardly glad when he provided no details. "My father was seven weeks in the hospital, and I was in care, and when he got out of the hospital and I was able to go home, he was... very sad. I knew the only reason he hadn't killed himself was because he had to take care of me. I convinced myself—it wasn't hard and I still believe it was true—that if I had died in the crash, too, he'd have followed us. Her. The difference is, now I think it's a good thing, and then I didn't."

"Come on, man," Jason protested; his grip tightened on Billy's shoulder.

The smaller boy reached up and patted his hand. "You wanted me to tell you," he pointed out. "It's how I was thinking. I wasn't a particularly religious child—on the contrary, I was particularly not."

He still wasn't, as far as Jason knew; it was another way he was odd man out. Zack, when he'd lived in Angel Grove, had gone to church twice on Sundays with his parents. Rocky even now went on Saturday, in case something happened on Sunday, and then went on Sunday because Saturday was a makeup for a missed Sunday obligation not an excuse to miss it. Adam's family attended a Buddhist temple in Stone Canyon, and Kim and Trini were Presbyterians, Tommy's adopted family Lutheran and fairly regular in attendance, while the Scotts were Episcopalians... the Cranstons weren't anything. Jason thought about that for a while, wondering if they had been before the accident, and then said, "Followed her where?"

Billy shrugged. "Anywhere. Nowhere. Just away. He'd have rather been in Hell with her than Heaven without her, not that he thinks there's even a remote possibility of either. Or that she would be in Hell if they did exist. Without her, he wanted to be dead. I was the only thing keeping him alive. It wasn't difficult for me to see suicide as a kindness to him as well as a relief to me..." he rubbed Jason's hand again, knowing how hard it was for Jason to hear what he was saying. "I, on the other hand, didn't want to be dead; I just didn't want to be alive."

"There's a difference?"

"Absolutely. Had I wanted to be dead, we'd have never met. I'd have never given Blue Spring a chance." He finally looked away from the ocean, into Jason's eyes. "You'd never have held me in life without even trying."

"I'd have tried if I'd known," Jason said. "I knew you were sad; my mom told me about your mom... I didn't know how bad it was. If I had known, I'd have ... something."

"I know. That's part of it, Jase, don't you understand? It's a overused metaphor, but it's valid: you were rain in a desert. You saved my life."

"You were worth saving, Bill," Jason said fiercely. "My God, if anyone ever was—"

"I didn't believe that at the time. I believe it now, which is why you don't have to worry about where I choose to sit. Or how depressing you think my life is."

"I don't," Jason began, then stopped, remembering honesty.

"It is depressing," Billy admitted. "But the thing that I learned when I was ten is that you don't have to let depressing things actually depress you. Just, so to speak, put your head down and keep going and eventually something extraordinary will show up."

Jason blushed when he realized Billy meant him. He hoped the sunglasses kept Billy from noticing. "That's always been your strength, ever since I've known you," he said. "You... go on. You endure. Even then—I mean, you say you wanted to kill yourself, but you didn't do it. You play the cards you're dealt as well as you can, even though you get some bad hands. You don't fold."

"No," Billy agreed. "Not any more. Folding takes you out of the game and you never know what's the next card you will receive. And that exhausts that metaphor, I think."

"Yeah. I guess it does. But it's true. I've always admired that strength in you," Jason said, ignoring for the moment Billy's evident desire to have the subject changed. "You've had more crap thrown at you than I think I could handle, and yet you do."

"You're not a good target," Billy said, smiling. "You don't take it because you don't accept it. You fight back. In fact, you fight other people's fights for them; that's what you've always done ever since I've known you." His smile widened. "A case in point: the first time we met. Another, our first time in the Command Center. You were between Zordon and the rest of us as soon as you saw him. We were all your responsibility before you even knew what that meant."

"Somebody needed to watch you," Jason riposted, agreeing to break the tension. "You especially, touching everything, walking right up to Alpha... you were giving me a heart attack."

"It was fascinating."

"Magnificent, I think you said."

"Very likely." Billy smiled again.

"What I remember is how Zordon knew all about us. He really nailed us all. It was a little creepy, really. I remember he called you 'patient and wise'."

"I always hated that," Billy admitted.

"Really? Why?"

"Come on, Jason. You're 'bold and powerful'. I'm 'patient and wise'?"

"It's true."

"That it's true doesn't necessarily make something palatable. Besides, wise?"

"You're the smartest person I've ever met—smartest person I ever will meet."

"Maybe," Billy had no false modesty, "but even if you assume that IQ successfully measures something tangible, intelligence and wisdom are far from identical."

"So you don't object to 'patient'?"

"Oh, I object to it. I just can't argue with it."

"Anyway," Jason felt comfortable enough to half-joke about it, putting it in the place labelled 'doesn't bother me' whether it belonged there or not, "I guess I have to revise my opinion now."

"I was playing the cards I had as well as I could," Billy said. "I just didn't have much skill. Or very good cards, for that matter. Until you redealt the hand."

"You give me too much credit," Jason said, embarrassed. "And yourself not enough. Whatever I did, you were worth it. Are worth it. I've never had a better friend than you; I don't even want to think about my life without you in it."

Billy regarded him for a moment; behind the sunglasses his eyes were unreadable. Then he suddenly smiled with pure affection and said, "Ah, well, perhaps we'd better break up this mutual admiration society and head home. We've been out a little longer than we said we would be."

"That's true," Jason swung his legs over the wall and jumped up. "If my mom calls your house and doesn't get an answer, she'll call the cops and there'll be an APB out on us quicker than you can say—"

"Grand Theft Auto?" Billy maneuevered himself to where he could lean on the hood of the car and stand up.

"Well, actually I was thinking more 'Rescue 911', but, that'll work. And she thinks we're still in Santa Barbara. I hope Dad doesn't pay that much attention to the odometer."

"Blame me," Billy offered, reaching in and opening the door.

"Oh, I will," Jason promised. "Don't think I won't." He turned to get in and paused as he actually looked at the sky for the first time since they'd parked. "Man," he said. "Look at that sunset. 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight...'. That is so beautiful."

Billy leaned on the open door and looked. Then he said, in his driest voice, "The presence in the lower atmosphere of particles of pollution, primarily soot and smoke, is the direct cause of the increase in—"

"Get in the car, Cranston, before I leave you out here."

(6)

"I think it's a bad idea." Trini fisted both hands on her hips and glared at Jason. "How can you even think of such a thing?"

He blinked at her, surprised. "What do you mean? How is it bad to ask Billy to work in the Command Center?"

Rocky added, "Yeah. I think it's great, myself. I mean, no offense Adam—"

"None taken," Adam said. "I can't follow half of what he did."

"That's more than the rest of us can, man," Tommy said. "And with him in the Command Center and six Rangers still in the field, instead of five 'cause he's working on something, we'll be unstoppable."

"Try thinking about Billy for a minute, instead of yourselves," Trini snapped.

"What do you mean, Trini?" Jason asked. "I think Billy will want to—"

"Of course he will, especially if you ask him. But it's a bad idea, Jason. Face it, he's crippled."

There was a moment's rather stunned silence, then Kim asked, rather coldly, "What does that have to with anything? His mind still works. His heart and his, his soul are the same. He'll want to help and if we can't put in a few ramps—"

"That's not the point," said Trini. "Doesn't anybody see what I mean?"

"Why don't you explain it to us?" invited Tommy, putting a hand on Kim's arm, calming her down. "We're not all-knowing, we don't claim we can't miss something."

Trini sighed. "Guys," she said, sounding sad enough that Jason couldn't maintain his anger, "they target us when we're not morphed. Billy had trouble defending himself before; he'll never be able to do it now. And what if they grab him to use against us?"

"It'll never happen," said Rocky. "They won't know..."

"Right," said Adam. "He doesn't have a Coin, they can't find him..."

"And even if it does, Billy's not as helpless as you think."

"He never was," Tommy said, before anybody could question Jason's certainty—even himself. "And he's smart enough to think of this himself. It's gotta be his call, Trini. We can't treat him like a cripple. That would kill him."

This time the silence was meditative. Jason wasn't sure what the others were thinking. Himself, it was about equal parts why didn't that occur to me? and he did think of it, that's what that stare was for. He wasn't at all sure how he felt about that, but he knew Tommy was fundamentally right.

"Even if something happens," Adam said, his voice betraying a combination of nervousness and hope, "if he's got a communicator Zordon can track him, and he can call if he needs help."

"He could," said Trini.

"Come on, Trini," said Rocky. "Billy never liked calling for help, but he has way too much sense not to. You know that."

"So I'm outvoted?"

"Trini," Jason said, then stopped, uncertain what to say next. He hadn't believed any of the Rangers would disagree with the idea, which was why he hadn't brought it up before this. And if he had thought one would, it wouldn't have been Trini. It had been Billy he'd worried about, not wanting him to have to defend his refusal, if he so decided. Having seen Billy's reaction, he couldn't take it away—especially if he thought Jason had decided he was capable of taking care of himself—so he'd override Trini if he had to; at least the rest of the team agreed with him, and Zordon.

"If you mean it," Kim jumped in, "of course you are. Jason," she turned towards him. "Tommy's right, and so's Adam. It's a wonderful idea. Billy's part of the team, he should be with us."

"I don't mean he shouldn't," protested Trini. "But... oh, he might not even want to. Did you think of that?"

"I thought of it," said Jason. "It might be hard for him. He might think we only wanted him around for what he can do for us. But I think he'll be happier doing something than not. I think he'd rather not be shut out. Like Tommy said, it's his call. I think he'll say yes."

"Me, too," said Kim. "And so do you, Trini, or you wouldn't have said anything."

Trini sighed. "You're right. He will. He'll want to. I'm just still not sure we should let him. But I guess you're right about that, too. Okay. It'll be good to see him again. When's he coming back, Jason?"

Relieved at her capitulation, he almost responded with the truth. "Pretty soon," he said. "This month, probably."

"That's just great," said Kim.

"Yeah," said Rocky. "Man, I can't wait to see him again. But listen, anything else, Jason? Coach'll kill me if I'm late again."

"Yeah, right," said Tommy.

"No. Take off, Rocky, can't have you dying before we take on Stone Canyon."

Adam left with Rocky. Kim and Trini left together, too, Kim telling Tommy not to forget they were going to a movie after supper—"we've got to make the 8 o'clock show."

"Tommy, hang on a minute," Jason put his hand on Tommy's arm to stop him following the others out.

"Sure, Jase, what is it? I meant it, I think it's a good idea if Billy'll go for it."

"It's not that. I mean, I know you do." Jason stared at his gym bag for a minute trying to find the right words so that he didn't hurt Tommy, who was a lot more sensitive than many people gave him credit for. Tommy was his—why did I almost think best friend?, he wondered—Tommy was his second, his second-in-command, his next best friend. He decided he'd just have to tell him part of the truth. "Look, Billy's coming home this weekend."

"That's great! How's he doing? When did you find out? How come you didn't tell the others?"

"It's gonna be a surprise," Jason said; he could tell he was grinning like an idiot. "Tomorrow, it's gonna be a welcome home party."

"That's gonna be great, just great. Can't wait to see him. You talk to him?"

"Yeah, he's doing okay. He can't wait to see you guys, either."

"So, you picking him up? His dad's gone again, right?"

"Yes, to both. Look, Tommy... I was thinking..."

"Don't strain yourself, buddy. Billy'll be home tomorrow."

Jason had to laugh. "Yeah. He will. And that's going to change things. For us. I mean, you and me us, not me and Billy." He stopped, tried again. "What I mean is, you need to get another sparring partner. I don't mean I'm not going to ever work out with you again," he added quickly as his friend's chocolate eyes reflected a sudden confusion. "I just mean, a second one. Somebody else. For when I can't. Because I'm not—"

"Jason," Tommy said seriously. "I know what you're trying to say, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Really?" Jason said, relieved.

"Absolutely. Look, I know you and I are good friends, okay? But I also know you and Billy have been friends half your life. And one of your good qualities is loyalty. Besides, I like him, too, you know. I wouldn't want to take anything away from him, even if I could."

Jason raised his eyebrows.

Tommy laughed and shook his head. "Look, I'm not kidding myself, Jase. Sure, loyalty is one of your good points; it's one of the reasons I'm really glad I'm your friend. But I know what you and Billy have goes way deeper than just how long it's been. You guys are really tight. A blind man could see that."

"Yeah. But you know you and I—"

Tommy held up his hand. "Hey, man, before you say anything else, I want to say this is getting dangerously close to a chick moment here."

Jason laughed. He liked this guy. "Yeah, it is. Let's go work out."

Tommy grinned back. "Okay. Nothing like a little controlled violence to get things back to normal."

We can always hope, Jason thought, grabbing his gym bag and following Tommy.

"Dad, I'm going to go get Billy."

"Wait a minute, Jason." Frank Scott walked into the kitchen, where Jason was standing, holding the keys to the little Subaru station wagon. He didn't look particularly guilty, in fact he looked more like his old self than he had since October. Nonetheless, Frank had to ask. "Jason, where did you go yesterday?"

"Carmel."

The ready answer disarmed him. "Why?"

"Billy wanted to go for a drive," Jason said. "We went up One and lost track of the time. Guess you noticed, huh?"

"You put three hundred miles on my car, son; did you really think I wouldn't?"

Jason shook his head. "No. I knew you would. But, Dad, at least I put gas in it."

"Yes, you did... But—"

"I know. It's farther than you want me to drive. I'm sorry."

Frank regarded his son. It was farther than he wanted him to drive, but he had a feeling that something important had happened yesterday. He doubted they'd been joy-riding. "What did you go to Carmel for?"

"We didn't mean to," Jason said. "I know how that sounds, but... we just drove and then there we were. We ate dinner up there and came back."

He wasn't getting the whole story; cop's and father's instincts were both telling him that. But he listened to the father and said only, "So, you had a good time?"

"Billy likes your car..." Jason stopped, then said, "We talked."

"Oh? Three hundred miles worth?" Looking at their phone bills for the past three months he wouldn't have thought the boys could have had anything left to say. He had a sudden image of them just sitting with an open phone line while PacBell ran up charges on dead air... He shook it off and asked, "Reconnecting?"

"Not exactly. He talked about his mom."

"Really?" Frank couldn't remember the boy ever mentioning his mother, even in passing. Edmund Cranston did, on rare occasions, with a sadness that showed even several years of therapy hadn't helped him to 'get over' her. Once he had thanked Linda for being there for his son—Linda had told Frank she hadn't known what to say to him, especially as Billy was the most disturbingly self-sufficient little boy she'd ever met.

Jason looked out the kitchen window. "Yeah. He told me how he felt when she died."

And that was odder still. Frank knew he'd never heard him talk about how he felt about things, not important things. On the other hand, Jason did talk, so it didn't matter that Frank wasn't sure what to say now. He could just wait, receptive, and his son would eventually tell him what was on his mind.

"He wanted me to be... he didn't want me to worry about him. He wanted me to know he's all right."

"Is he?"

"He's," Jason blew out a gusty breath. "He's okay. Really. Doing better than I would. He's just tired of it, being treated different."

"We'll bear that in mind tonight," Frank promised.

"I wish you would. I mean, he wants to see you guys, but he just wants things to be as normal as they can be."

"I understand. We'll give it our best shot." Frank smiled a little ruefully. "We're too fond of him not to care, but I understand that he doesn't want to be babied... One thing, son: you stayed there last night. Is he going to be all right until Edmund gets back?"

"Yeah," Jason sounded sure of that, anyway. "Mr. Cranston fixed the house up real good, and Billy's always been okay by himself. I think he kind of wants to be alone for a few days, anyway. You know, until he gets used to things."

"Okay. You'd better go get him."

Jason grinned and left.

Frank watched him trot out to the station wagon and drive away. Carmel, he thought, then went looking for his wife. He found her folding laundry. He picked up a towel and quartered it, then said, "Did I ever tell you my theory about Jason and Billy?"

Linda looked up at him, her blue eyes amused. "What theory would that be?"

"That Jason's in love with him?"

"Seriously?"

"Do you mean, am I serious? Or—"

"Oh, of course you're serious," she said, dropping the sheet she was holding. "That's not your idea of a joke. In fact, you'd belt anyone who made a joke like that. So, you're serious. Do you think Jason is?"

"What do you think?" he answered. "You saw how he was the day of the accident. That whole week. And he wasn't much better until they put Billy where he could get in to see him. And I know for a fact he cut class at least a couple of times to do just that. And how many teenaged boys talk for eight hundred dollars' worth of time over a couple of months?"

"You have some good points," she said. "But—"

"He went to Carmel yesterday."

"Carmel?" she repeated. "He told me they stayed in Santa Barbara."

"He told me Carmel, just now. Said Billy wanted to go for a drive. Said they lost track of time. Sounded like he was telling the truth, too..." He sighed heavily. "Said they talked. About their feelings."

"Kiss of death," she said.

"Linda."

"Sorry," she shrugged. "It's just... it took me years to get you to talk. He actually said that to you?"

"It is the kiss of death," he said heavily.

"Oh, Frank. Would it be such a disaster?" Wisely, she didn't wait for him to answer that, continuing, "Do you think they've... ever... you know, dated?"

"They do a lot of stuff together," he said, "but no, I don't. He was dating Anna Myers back when Billy had the accident. He wouldn't date a girl ... well, he wouldn't date two people at once, he's not the sneaky kind. Thank God."

"So, is Billy not—" she broke off. "No. I think he is. He doesn't date at all, does he?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't think so. I mean, I don't remember Jason ever coupling his name with any girl's more than once. But, I mean, have you ever seen him make anything even vaguely resembling a pass at Jason?"

"No," she said firmly. "But he wouldn't, not if he thought Jason wouldn't welcome it." She absently picked up the sheet again, but didn't start folding it. "You think he would welcome it?"

"I don't know. He might... I'm not bringing it up with him. He likes girls. Maybe he's, what do they call it, bi? But girls is normal, girls is where he'll have the best shot at being happy and accepted. I'm not pushing him at a boy, even one I like as much as Billy."

"He's still coming over tonight?"

"Of course he is," Frank said. "I just said I like him... hell, Linda. I love the boy. You know that. He's not putting the moves on Jason. Jason's just... whatever. But even if I didn't like him, the stupidest thing in the world would be trying to keep the two of them apart. Even if Jason isn't in love with him, there's no doubt he loves him. Like a brother I'd have said, but. Oh, God," he said and reached out to take the end of the sheet from her. "I don't know. I guess I should just keep my mouth shut. If Jason ever says anything, I ..." he blew out a big sigh.

"If Jason ever says anything," Linda said, "we say, 'We're so happy for you, son.' We do love Billy, and if they do fall in love, well, then I guess we ..."

"Won't get drafted to keep the grandchildren over the summer?"

"Something like that." She shook the sheet out. "Besides, Billy's going to be famous some day. We'll be able to brag about our Nobel laureate son-in-law."

"That's something, I suppose."

"Frank," she said, holding the sheet between the two of them. "I mean it. If Jason ever comes to us and says he's in love with Billy and they want to live together, we are going to say, 'Bless you my children. We're so happy.' Jason's our son, and we're not going to fight with him over something he can't change any more than he can stop having black eyes or lose five inches in height."

She didn't actually add, am I making myself clear, mister?, but she didn't have to. And as Frank nodded and said, "Well, of course," he felt relieved to have the decision taken out of his hands.

"Hey, bro. For a guy at his best friend's homecoming party, you look depressed." Tommy pushed himself onto the counter next to Jason.

"Not really, I hope," Jason didn't want to be spreading gloom.

"Well, kinda sorta," Tommy said. "Thoughtful, more... but depressed is right, isn't it?"

Jason shrugged. He wasn't really depressed, just thinking. He couldn't be depressed, not with Billy home, doing pretty well, and back on the team. But something wasn't exactly right. He looked across Ernie's. There was Kim, sitting next to Billy and talking a mile a minute, her beautiful, expressive face lit with happiness. And there was Trini, on the other side of the room, talking to two girls Jason thought were called Ellen and Tanya. And there was Rocky, with some basketball players, and Adam next to him, kidding around...

When they'd gotten there, they'd all been blown away to see Billy, and they'd all been happy. Kim had squealed with joy and flung herself into his lap. Tommy had lit up, dropping to his heels beside the wheelchair to slap him on the shoulder and accept a hug. Rocky had messed up his hair and hugged him and chattered in the Spanglish that only extremes of emotion brought out. Trini had kissed his cheek and sat with him for a while, and Adam had joined Rocky in conversation. But while the Rangers had come and gone, allowing others of Billy's friends to have time talking with him, there hadn't been a single moment Jason could recall where all seven of them had been together. He couldn't even remember six, or five...

"See," said Tommy, "I know what you're thinking. You're remembering what Zordon said: how we were this incredible team, like nothing he'd ever seen before. And now we aren't that."

Jason hadn't put it into words before this, but he knew Tommy was right. Totally right. There was no getting away from it. They'd once been a team of six people, now they were a team of a set of three, a set of two, and one single who hung out with the two... They still functioned, and functioned well as far as that went, but the interconnectedness, the it-doesn't-matter-who's-with-who, was gone.

"The thing is," said Tommy, "we aren't that team anymore. We haven't been that team since October. And you can kill yourself trying to put us back together, but, not only would that take away a real important piece, but it's only on TV that you can make something that broke 'better than it was'."

"Maybe you're right," Jason acknowledged.

"Yeah. Maybe I am." Tommy smiled at him. "Look, Adam is a great guy, I'm not saying any different, but the what-do-you-call-it, dynamics, are different now. We're still a good team, but we aren't that team. And we can't be. Don't go trying to make us into that any more."

Jason blew out a long breath, looking out across Ernie's. "You're right. About everything. We are still a good team. I just miss it."

"Sure. How couldn't you? I miss it myself. It was good. But you know, it wasn't going to last forever anyway, bro."

"How so?"

Tommy shrugged. "Remember when we talked with Zordon and Alpha back in November? Well, something Alpha said kind of nagged at me, so I asked him. Zordon was always going to be putting together a new team when we graduated."

Jason was oddly unsurprised to hear that, as if he'd always had it figured out somehow. But still, "Why?"

"'Cause adults make bad Rangers, from what I could figure out. It's not just that kids think they're immortal, they don't have a lot of things on their minds. Adults do. I mean, we're all starting to pay attention to other stuff, to the point it's interfering with being a Ranger." His chocolate gaze was on Kim.

"I haven't noticed it interfering," Jason said.

"It is. I worry about her. Too much, you know what I mean?"

Jason nodded a little reluctantly, though he couldn't pin down the source of that. Maybe he just didn't want to think of Kim ... except he'd accepted that months ago. And he'd never known her happier.

"You know, we're thinking about getting married."

"You guys are thinking about getting married?" That startled him.

"Someday," Tommy nodded. "Someday soon, I hope. I want kids. But we gotta have them before she goes to med school. You know? Otherwise, we have to wait, like ten, twelve years."

Jason grabbed that topic. "Med school?"

"Yeah, she wants to be a doctor." Tommy shrugged. "See, that's another thing. College. High school is nothing compared to college. And, well, AGU's not a good pre-med school. Trini, she's already applied to Berkeley. Billy was never staying here. Hell, you've gotta be thinking about it."

Jason shrugged. "AGU's good enough for me. If I go. I want to be a cop, you know that, and I don't need a degree. You make rank faster that way, but it's four years in college, so is it really faster?"

"Your parents want you to go to college, don't they? And it's a good investment in the future, isn't it?" Tommy said seriously. "I mean, you want to be a detective, right? AGU's good enough for that, but if nobody else stays? Rocky's starting to pay serious attention to his grades; he wants a Division I school and a real degree, he's not thinking NBA. Adam's been worrying over which college for a while, I bet, just like Trini. Everybody is. Except Billy and me, I guess."

"Well, Billy, yeah," Jason said. "He's sorting through the letters begging him to come. Especially since he's already graduated... but what do you mean, you? You got your school picked out already?"

"Depends on where Kim ends up. That's the great thing about Lincoln Tech—they're nationwide. I don't need a college degree for what I want to do."

"What do your parents think about that?"

Tommy smiled. "We talked about it. They're cool with it. They want me to be happy—" Jason could the unspoken 'really' that went with that; Tommy still couldn't quite believe it sometimes. "—and college isn't really, you know, me. I mean, what am I gonna do? I know cars and karate." There wasn't any self-denigration in that, not any more. Tommy was comfortable with himself.

Jason nodded. "So, those graduation bells are breaking up that old gang of mine? Is that it?"

"Weddings, too," Tommy said. "Just not quite as fast... but you sure can't be a good Ranger if your wife doesn't know, or your kid's teething."

Jason snickered, but the topic was still vaguely annoying.

Fortunately, Tommy had more to say, and it was plenty diverting. "Besides, not that I've said this to anyone but Kim, but I'm, I don't know, a little distracted by this whole spirit animal thing. I'm wanting to talk to Billy about it. I mean, I can't exactly say, hey, Zordon, I wanna quit being a Ranger 'cause my animal might go away, but... you know what I mean?"

Jason did, a little. He still wasn't entirely sure he believed it, and that was probably because, like Zordon (he suspected), he didn't see how Rangers could afford to think about it. But, if Billy's wolf had in fact saved his life, and he thought that very likely, then he was ... grateful, and happy, and sort of wondering if his bear (if Billy had guessed right) could do the same for him.

"Anyway, I know we're Morphin Rangers, not Ninjetti adepts, but ... it appeals to me, you know, Jason? And sometimes I think I sense my falcon... It helps, but it also puts me off my game a little."

"What about Kim?"

"Oh, she's totally convinced. She thinks the spirit animals are what led to Rangers in the first place. You know, spirit guides take people to the Power and then somebody says, the Power—we ought to be able to get at that if it's out there, and then, uh, bam. The Grid gets built and the animals fade into myth. She doesn't think all Rangers actually have animals, and she thinks most of them fade away... you know," he turned to Jason, "and I think she's right about this, remember when Billy was in the hospital? We like, could hardly keep our hands off of him?"

Jason remembered.

"She thinks we were helping him. And she thinks his wolf may have strengthened ours, so they're hanging on. One thing, when she started reading up on cranes, that's when she settled in her mind to be a doctor."

"So, it's the home stretch for us, huh?" Jason was a little surprised at how that made him feel. For almost four years now, being a Ranger had been the central thing in his life. It had overshadowed everything else: football, martial arts, family, friends, school... the future, even. He hadn't gone a single day without knowing the world hung on how well he could do what had to be done. He'd spent his youth holding a team together, saving the world, missing dates and parties, lying to his parents, getting hurt, watching others get hurt, playing superhero long after it stopped being any fun... He was going to miss it, he realized, but it was time to let it go. Time to let somebody else, somebody younger and enthusiastic take it on. Rocky and Adam and four fifteen-year-olds...

It made him feel a little old.

It made him realize, he was probably going to get to be old.

He grinned at Tommy. "Okay. You, me, Kim, Billy—pizza and videos tonight. And talk. You on?"

Tommy grinned back. "We're in."

Jason knocked on the door and came in without waiting to be asked. He pushed up to sit on the workbench. Billy was working on something; Jason didn't know what but it didn't matter. He'd always liked watching his friend work in his lab. It was pretty amazing, how the awkwardness would vanish; Billy working was actually graceful, like Tommy or Trini working through a familiar kata, or Kim on the balance beam, or Rocky on the basketball court, driving the lane. It was a pretty thing to watch, not that Jason had ever said so. But it was.

Billy glanced at his friend, silently asking if Jason wanted to know what he was doing. He'd have told him if he did, even if it took a couple of tries to get it to his level; he never gave up acting as if he thought Jason would understand it the first time. Despite what other people might think about that, he knew that Jason actually liked it. It was one of Jason's secrets, like liking to watch Billy work, but this one Billy had guessed: Jason actually enjoyed listening to Billy talk about things even when he didn't understand a word of it. He always had; it was why he went to Science Fairs. Billy had once, when they were younger, suggested that for Jason, it was akin to the way he himself felt—happy and maybe even proud—watching Jason compete in a tournament. Or the way the two of them had such a good time watching Rocky or Kim or Trini doing what they were good at. Jason had agreed with that; it was as good an explanation as any he could come up with. He liked seeing his friend do something well.

However, today he couldn't really indulge himself. He needed to get his team straightened out, even if he couldn't quite figure out how to start talking about it. So he didn't say anything, and Billy didn't either, just kept on piecing wires together on whatever it was and waited for the Ranger leader to get around to it.

"Have you talked with Trini since you've been back?"

That hadn't been what Billy was expecting to hear, that was clear. Jason put that aside to deal with later.

"Define 'talked with'," Billy said after a moment, which was answer enough.

"Have you tried?" He kept that non-judgmental.

Billy's hands went still anyway. He looked at Jason and was apparently reassured by what he saw, because he shrugged slightly and said, "Trini doesn't give the impression that she would welcome a conversation with me. She seems..." he looked for the word, which wasn't like him, and Jason's conviction that the two of them were due a long drive up the coast strengthened. "Uncomfortable," Billy settled on, "in my presence."

"She says it's her fault," Jason said bluntly. Billy's eyes widened in startlement. "She's not dealing with it well. Well, none of us are, really, but she's blaming herself and I can't convince her otherwise."

"I'm certain you've done your best," his best friend said mildly. "Trini can be very stubborn."

"Tell something I don't already know," Jason said exasperatedly. Billy's eyes sparkled with wicked amusement and he opened his mouth. Jason said, hurriedly, "Don't get smart with me, now."

"Too late," the blond said softly, smiling at the way his dark haired friend had laid himself open for that.

"Very funny, okay; I admit it. But what am I supposed to do about this?"

"I don't know," Billy admitted. "I assume you've told her that nothing she did contributed to the situation and that nothing she could have done but omitted to would have substantially altered the actual outcome?"

"Something like that."

"Then there's really little I can think of that could be added."

"Maybe she needs to hear it from you?"

"I'm willing," he said. "But she avoids me assiduously."

Jason smiled almost in spite of himself. "Assiduously," he repeated. "Nice word, Bill. Don't think I've ever actually heard anyone say it before."

Billy merely hunched a shoulder at him, as if refusing to take the blame for Jason's poor choice of company.

That was okay; Jason knew what he was avoiding. His friend had always had a, well, thing for Trini. Sometimes she seemed to return his affection, but Jason would never forget the weekend back in junior high they'd been out camping, the four of them—a couple of years before Tommy moved to Angel Grove, and Rocky's parents not wanting him out overnight—and gotten to talking about their parents and family expectations, and Trini had said, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Billy, that her father expected her to marry a nice Chinese man, preferably a doctor... Billy had borne up well, but Jason figured it had to have hurt. And it wasn't like he really dated even now—even before. To break the silence Jason said, "She's avoiding me, too. Not as assiduously, perhaps, but then I'm her boss."

"Does she know you say that?"

"I hope not. But you know what I mean. She's avoiding all of us unless Zordon calls."

"That's not a good sign."

"Not a good sign," Jason repeated. "Why is it that whenever you get all single-syllable and Anglo-Saxon on me I never want to hear what you're saying?"

"That wasn't really very Anglo-Saxon," Billy objected. "I didn't say, that bodes ill."

"Bodes ill? Bodes ill?" Jason laughed. He couldn't help it.

"But to answer your question," Billy added when he could make himself heard, "if I were to be polysyllabic and Latinate, you could pretend you didn't understand what I was saying."

After a moment of silence Jason said, "You're good for me. You know that, right?"

Billy smiled, his eyes warming. "Back at you."

"Okay, I stand corrected." He sighed, then ran one hand through his hair and said, quoting himself, "It's not your fault." Billy just glanced up, not speaking, and he finished, "How many times can you actually say that before what you want to say is, Okay, it is your fault, all of it; why don't you go jump off a building yourself and see if that makes it better?"

"One less time than you have said it?" Billy guessed.

He sighed. "Just about." Jason shook his head. "I thought she was all right. I had other things to worry about—"

Billy put down what he was working on and pushed lightly on the edge of the workbench, easily maneuvering his chair around to face Jason. He touched him lightly on the knee in reassurance. "I'm certain you noticed all that was evident," he said, "and did all that was within your not inconsiderable abilities. You had a lot on your mind."

"Yeah. You; Tommy feeling guilty as hell, and getting in trouble for lying to his parents; and Rocky of course; and Adam..." his voice trailed off; it sounded like excuses to him. "But I really thought she was okay. I think she was, until you came back."

Billy leaned back in his chair. "You think what, that she was in denial about the severity of the accident?"

"Not in denial, exactly. More like, not accepting... okay, denial." That was the word. Jason made his voice as earnest as he could. "But I wish you'd talk to her, Bill."

Billy shook his head, not in refusal but in resignation. "It's very difficult to talk to someone who won't stay in the same room as you."

"And that's not good for the team," Jason pointed out, frustrated. "Let alone what it's got to be doing to her." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, clenched them at the back of his neck, and then let himself just lose it for a minute. "Damn!" He slammed his fists down on the table beside his legs, very hard. Equipment and tools skittered across the table top. Billy reached out quickly in time to catch something delicate-looking that went over the edge. He didn't say anything as he replaced it, just held Jason's face with his warm green gaze and waited.

"Sorry," Jason said after a minute. "It just gets to me, you know?"

"I do," Billy nodded. "You may not do guilt as well as Tommy—"

"Who does?" He'd managed to make Jason laugh.

"—but," Billy continued, "you do permit your perceived failings to prey on your mind."

"Perceived?" Jason felt his eyebrows going up.

"You're not a trained psychologist," he pointed out. "You're a high school senior—"

"With delusions of grandeur?"

"They're not delusions," Billy said quietly. "You're the Red Ranger, you're the leader, and you're responsible. Not, perhaps, as responsible as you think, but enough so. And generally you don't miss things. But what was that list you recited earlier? You had your hands full. And Trini's, pardon the expression, inscrutable."

"Ow," Jason winced. He knew he'd never have dared say that. After a minute he returned to the puzzle, worrying at it. "You know what I don't get? Why does she feel like this in the first place? Rocky I could understand, but he seems okay with it."

"I had this conversation with him already," Billy said, glancing away for a minute."He did feel somewhat guilty; after all, it was the nefarious Black Ranger Revenger was after, not the innocent and completely lovable Blue—" he broke off, ducking Jason's mock punch and grinning. Jason grinned back at him; it felt good, taking a swing at him, knowing he didn't mean to connect but knowing he was okay to be swung at, there to be swung at. And he could tell it made Billy feel good, too, him acknowledging that the smaller boy wasn't really all that breakable. Thank God, Jason found himself thinking. Whatever else, we're still here.

Billy continued, "But Rocky's simple. You know what I mean, linear. Clear. His perceptions are unclouded by doubts. All he needed to know was that I don't blame him. He never really blamed himself; he never truly saw how he could have acted differently. His trip to San Francisco was simply unfortunate."

"Yeah," Jason nodded. "I sometimes envy him that clarity. And Tommy's just, well, Tommy. You know him: Guilt 'R' Us. Remember when we coded the colors?" He grinned suddenly.

Billy nodded, fighting his own grin as he remembered. They had done that late one night when Billy's dad was out of town and the two were coming down off the adrenaline of a particularly nasty fight. Blue had been Brilliance—that's what had gotten them started, Jason saying 'Blue must be for Brilliant'—and Red, Billy'd countered, was Royalty, and Jason had thrown a pillow at him and then accepted the tag, graciously. And then they'd done the others, laughing so much Jason's mom had threatened to put Billy in the spare room if they didn't shut up and go to sleep 'and I mean now, young men'... Green had been Guilt, it had been the second easiest color to do. Poise and Bravery had come pretty easily (they'd hesitated but shied away from Passion; well, Billy'd just turned fifteen and Jason was still a month short of it.) Yellow was the hardest; they had finally settled for Yoga but had never really been happy with it.

After minute Billy said, "Yes. Generic Guilt is our specialty... if it happens, he can make it into his fault. So, in a sense, this is no different than any other experience for him. But Trini..." He glanced away again. It was Jason's turn to wait for him to get his thoughts together. After a minute, Billy looked back at him and said, "Trini was wearing my shirt, remember?"

Jason stared at him, blankly. Then, "Oh."

"Yes," Billy nodded. "Revenger wanted the Black Ranger. He had us, out of uniform, you in—" he spread his hands, indicating Jason's red sleeveless shirt. "Tommy was wearing something green and Kim, if memory serves, and it usually does, was wearing everything pink. But I gave Trini my shirt just before he showed up, so she was wearing a blue, well, dress on her. And I was left with—"

"That old black teeshirt," he said softly. "God, Billy, I'd forgotten all about that. Why he thought you..." It was obvious, and he couldn't believe he'd forgotten that detail.

Billy shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Neither of us knew what was going on. I can't even claim I did it on purpose, well, except to keep her from freezing to death."

That was true enough; Trini had come from swimming and the early October day had been way too chilly for her tank suit. Not that that meant anything, and both of them knew it; Billy would have still given her his shirt even knowing what would happen. If Jason or Tommy hadn't beaten him to it, that is.

"So, will you talk to her?" Jason asked. "Tell her that?"

"Of course I will," Billy said. "Assuming you can keep her in the room."

"Oh, I'll keep her in the room," Jason promised.

Billy smiled at the tone, wryly. "Where is she?"

"At her house. You want a ride?"

"Eight blocks? I don't think so... unless you've got your dad's car?"

Jason grinned like an idiot at that. Billy laughed back. The taller boy reached over and cut off the workbench light and Billy pushed away from it, spinning the chair around neatly in the confined space. He snagged his jacket off the wall hook and they went outside.

"What are you going to tell her?" Billy asked after a block.

"Do you want to know? Or would you like to be an innocent victim, too?"

"That sounds a bit acid."

"Sorry. It's not fair to Trini, really," Jason admitted. "I ought to be able to talk to her. I've known her for years, I'm—"

"Yes, yes," Billy interrupted. "But Trini is the Cat Who Walks by Herself, Jason, she always has been. Even back in sixth grade."

"True," Jason admitted. "But you'd think after all this time, she'd talk to me... oh, well. I guess I'm learning my limitations this winter."

"Don't you always say a man has to know his?"

"Got to know," Jason corrected. "If you're gonna quote Dirty Harry—and the mind boggles at the concept—you should get him right." He shook his head and looked down at Billy. "I don't know... I know Zordon's gonna replace the bulk of the team in a couple of months anyway, but..."

"But," Billy said, "you want it to happen on schedule. You want it not to be because you failed. Even if Fate's weightcloth was breaking your heart."

Now that was the kind of thing Billy usually quoted; Jason had no idea what it was from, but it sounded exculpatory, in a good way. And he was right on the money. "Not too vain, am I?" he asked.

"No, not at all. Why shouldn't you want to keep your record clean? You may not be able to, but there's no reason you shouldn't want it. I'll do what I can. Trini's not unreasonable, even if she's emotionally..." he hesitated, looking for the right word.

"Pissed off at me?" Jason offered.

"Perhaps."

They had reached the Kwans' house by then. Billy grabbed the railing and stood up. Jason hoisted the chair up to the porch and came back to give Billy his arm up the three steps. Once the blond was settled back in his chair, Jason said, "So, what's your spidersense say? She home?"

Billy raised an eyebrow but answered, "Yes. At least, either she or Rocky. I can't tell them apart."

"Well, I doubt it's Rocky," said Jason and opened the front door without ringing the bell.

Fortunately, the Kwans had a single-storey house, unlike the Scotts or the Olivers or the Harts. They went down the hallway to Trini's room, where they could hear a stereo playing NSynch, which cinched it that it wasn't Rocky. "Wait here," Jason said, and rapped on the door.

"Mom? Are you home already?" Trini answered. "Come on in."

Jason did. Trini was sitting at a desk, a math book open beside her. She stared at him in shock. "What are you doing here?" Then she jumped up. "I didn't think the music was that loud, did I miss a call?"

"No," he said. "Trini, I brought Billy over. You have to talk to him."

"Jason," she fixed him with the look he'd come to recognize, the one that said 'you're being bossy'. "I don't have to do anything just because you say. You may be the leader of the team, but you're not—"

"Trini," he interrupted. "You have to talk to him. It's not good for the team, what's been going on. The past two weeks, you haven't addressed two words to him unless he's spoken to you first, and then only as Yellow Ranger. I'm not saying you have to agree with everything I do, but you can't fight me all the time, either. We have to be able to work together, all of us. Any of us. All the time, any time. Whoever's there."

"I work with you."

"And that's all you do. The team doesn't function because we get together when there's an attack. It functions because we spend time together the rest of the time. We know each other. We trust each other."

"This has nothing to do with trusting Billy," she said. "Or not trusting him."

"Good. Then you won't mind talking with him."

"Jason—"

Jason reached out and snagged her communicator from the desk top before she could. "You have to talk to him, Trini," he said seriously. "You can't keep dodging him, and everybody else. I wouldn't want to, but if I have to I'll tell Zordon to look for another replacement."

"You wouldn't."

"I would." He locked eyes with her. He did not want to, probably wouldn't, but he wanted her to understand how serious he was. "Trini, I don't know what's at the bottom of this, and I don't need to know. But I need—we need—for you two to patch up whatever the problem is. Before it gets worse."

"There's nothing to patch," she said. He waited. "Oh, all right. You are bossy, you know that. Send him in."

Jason shut the door behind him and left them alone. Billy looked at Trini. She looked back at him. The silence between them was almost tangible, especially when the cd ended. He waited; that had always been best with Trini.

Finally she said, softly, "You know I trust you, don't you?"

"Of course I do," he said. "That's not the issue here, is it?"

"No," she agreed. "It never has been."

"No. And you know I don't blame you. Or do you?"

"It was my fault," she said.

"It was not. If I had put on a white teeshirt that morning, and still been the slowest one, would it still be your fault?"

"He went after you because you were wearing black," she said.

"And if I had not been, or if you hadn't been swimming so I kept my shirt and he'd known you for Yellow and me for Blue, he'd have still gone after somebody first. It's not as though your swimming suit had been black, after all," he pointed out. "You weren't hiding behind my color, you were just cold. We weren't morphed; he would most likely have attacked me no matter what color I was wearing, given no one else there was in black."

"Perhaps."

"It's a virtual certainty, Trini. Do you wish it had been you? I don't." And that was true. Would have been true even if there had been some tiny trace of spirit animal within her. As there wasn't, he was convinced she'd have died. Maybe any of them but him would have, because the other three animals he—or rather, Luka—could sense at the time had been nearly dormant. Still were, in fact, especially Jason's sleeping bear. But Trini—he was certain she'd have died. He couldn't explain that to her, but apparently she heard the verity of his sentiments.

"Billy—" Suddenly she knelt beside him, putting one small hand on his arm. "I can't bear seeing you hurt."

"Trini," he covered her hand with his. "I'm doing well, really, especially now that I'm back home. It doesn't hurt... all right," he capitulated to her raised eyebrow. "Not very much and not all the time, and it's getting better. I'm getting better. Being a Ranger has some side benefits."

"Oh, sure," she said, her voice trembling a little, "people may throw you off rooftops, but it probably won't kill you..."

"Yes, something like that."

"I just... I just feel so guilty." She looked at him with sad dark eyes.

"You needn't. And you shouldn't. It was no more to do with you than with Rocky."

She settled into a lotus position beside him, resting her cheek on his arm for a brief moment, then straightening. "But it's different. You know it is."

At last. Here it was: what he couldn't explain to Jason, ever; what he couldn't bring up himself... "Trini, that was a very long time ago. It doesn't matter between us. It never has. I understand."

"Do you? I'm not so sure I do."

He'd wondered if he should tell her the truth, but looking at her he realized that it didn't even matter. What he felt now, who he felt it for, was irrelevant. That he wasn't pining for her, yes; that he was pining for Jason, not at all. What mattered now, really, was how Trini viewed what she'd done all those years ago.

"Trini," he said carefully, "you know that John Donne poem, no man is an island, entire to itself—"

"Each is a piece of the continent, a part of the main," she capped the quote. "And?"

"Continents are made up of parts," he said. "Clods that make up the manors and the manors making up the counties, and the counties countries... What I mean is, your family is the first thing you belong to, before the group or the town or the state—"

"I let my parents' expectations define my future."

"You were fourteen. Whose expectations should have done it? Your family is important to you. It's not like—" Oh, please, don't let me be wrong about this "—you gave up anything you truly, deeply wanted."

"I didn't know if I did," she said. "I never let myself find out."

"And there's nothing wrong in that," he said. "Nothing. I've never blamed you for it. You were honest. You have always been as honest as the day."

"You don't mind?"

"I did, a little, then," he admitted. She'd been almost a last hope, and he'd been fond of her just as he was now of Kim, in a passionless but strong way. "But I always understood your family was important."

"Perhaps too important," she said, but he was relieved to see there was nothing but mild regret in her.

"I wouldn't say that," he said. "Families are more than just people you share a house with, after all—ask Tommy. Families are the people you draw life from. They're in everything you do, from school to, to Christmas." He pulled that from remembering the elaborate Christmas parties Trini's family gave, with their daughters performing and Mrs. Kwan spending weeks decorating and cooking...

"Christmas," she said meditatively. "Yes. That's very much a family thing... You don't really celebrate Christmas, do you?" she said curiously. "I mean, you've gone caroling with us, and you go to parties and give presents, but..."

He cocked his head and looked at her, then shrugged. It was a neutral enough topic, which was a good thing, and yet it had emotional content, which was a better. And he knew that in her oblique way Trini was really asking him about his family, something none of the others had ever understood. It might help her if she knew he had his own traditions, however odd to her culture. He shied, violently, from expressing his feelings out loud, and he could never have told her a quarter what he'd told Jason that day overlooking the Pacific, but this... he could tell her about Christmas. "No. Not if you mean Christmas as a religious holiday, as Christ's birth. We don't. But we do have our traditions. We get a little tree and put ornaments on it." They were his mother's ornaments, and every year his father and he bought another one; they would spend the whole first Saturday in December shopping for something to sum up the past year. The resulting tree was generally rather spartan compared to his friends' but he liked it. "And we put up some lights outside, so the neighbors won't complain—" she snickered and he grinned at her. "And we send cards. And Christmas Eve we drive around and look at lights, then we come home, have cocoa and discuss where we're going to send our charity money in the upcoming year; Doctors Without Borders always gets half of it, but we have to decide about the other half, and then we open presents at midnight and go to bed."

"At midnight? You always did at midnight?"

"Yes," he said, puzzled at her surprise.

"Before Santa comes?"

"Trini," he said gently but with a wicked glint in his eye, "I hate to break it to you, but—"

"Did you ever believe in Santa Claus?" she interpolated.

"I don't think so," he said. "My parents probably tried, but it's a rather improbable story. The physics of it, alone..." He paused, then shrugged. "We always opened presents at midnight on Christmas Eve. Then, in the morning, we get up early, my father scrambles eggs and I make hot chocolate, and we spend the day on the couch watching movies together."

"The same movies?" she asked, smiling.

"Of course," he said. "That's what makes it a tradition. We watch Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol—"

"Really?" she smiled.

"Really. We know the movie by heart, and we sing... so nobody else can ever watch it with us." He almost told her how his mother had taught him the words to the songs when he was four, but didn't. "And then we watch White Christmas—" and the song that really meant 'Christmas' to him had always been 'We'll Follow the Old Man' from that movie, though that wasn't the sort of thing he ever intended to tell anyone, except maybe after years of marriage, not that that was likely to happen. "And Miracle on 34th Street—the real one—"

She nodded. "The classics. Well, some of them. Do you watch The Grinch?"

"Of course," he said. "And Christmas in Connecticut. Barbara Stanwyck and Dennis Morgan," he added to her blank look. "And then Yojimbo."

"Yojimbo?" she demanded. "Yojimbo?"

"It's a very good movie."

"Nobody's saying it's not," she said. "But it's not exactly a Christmas movie."

"It is at our house," he said. He could remember telling his father, I don't want to watch another Christmas movie, Dad. Can we watch something else? and his father saying, we can watch whatever you want, son... "And Fantastic Planet, and The Day the Earth Stood Still, and—"

"It must be midnight by then."

"No," he said. "Only about nine. So then we go out to dinner, and come home and finish up with Santa Claus Conquers the Martians."

"That is so weird."

"It's a Cranston Christmas. I like it." In fact, he looked forward to it for most of November and all of December. The movie marathon had started when he was nine; Thanksgiving that year had been disastrous, and his father had rather desperately looked for something to do with his son on Christmas. The movies had been the answer. That first year neither one of them had really been interested in what they were watching, but it had been an excuse for Billy to cuddle on the couch with his father and pretend it was the movies making him cry... The next year they'd done it again, and that time they'd spent most of the time talking, ostensibly about the movies but actually reestablishing a connection. Reserved at the best of times, and repressed even without tragedy, they had both found the Christmas marathon a joy. Some years, a movie played through and both of them were surprised when it ended, they'd been paying so little attention to the screen.

Even though seeing Jason, seeing all the Scotts, in L.A. had been great, he'd missed the movies. Missed the day. He didn't know if they'd ever do it again. He resolved on the spot: he'd come home for Christmas, wherever he was, and at least spend the day with his father. For as long as he could...

Jason rapped on the door and opened it. "Trini, your dad's pulling in," he said. "You two okay?"

"We're okay, Jason," she said. "We all are, I think." She rose to her feet and hugged him. It might have the first time since the day Billy had been hurt, from the look on Jason's face. "Sorry about everything," she said into his shoulder.

"It's all right, Trini," he said. "It's been a hard winter on everyone. But we've needed you. We still do."

"I'm back," she said. "I promise."

(7)

Jason let the door shut behind them. "Well, was that as much fun for you as it was for me?" he asked lightly. He knew how much Billy hated talking about emotions, other peoples' or his own. "I didn't eat any lunch. You want to order a pizza?"

"I'd rather have Chinese, I think. I couldn't face pizza right now."

"Works for me," Jason said. "Want a Coke?"

"Is there coffee?"

"It's not fresh."

"Is it hot?"

Jason shook his head. "I'll get it. Let's find something mindless on the tube, okay?"

Billy nodded. He stood up, but he hadn't been paying enough attention; he'd forgotten to lock the wheels on the chair. It skidded and he went down, one knee twisting under him as he fell. Jason caught him before he hit the floor. The dark-haired boy didn't say anything, anything at all; the look on his face went from startled worry to just startled. And he didn't move.

Billy wasn't sure how long the moment lasted. He was acutely aware of the immediate, tactile reality; the abstracts, such as time, were lost in the sensate. Jason's arm under him, against his shoulders and back. Jason's hand on his arm. Jason's thigh under his hips. Jason's face, the black hair and porcelain complexion and the smoldering dark eyes over those cheekbones, so close to his face...

Later he looked for a reason. He was tired. He'd been walking through emotional minefields all day. No, for the two weeks he'd been back in Angel Grove. Hell, since October. He was scared. He was lonely. Jason hadn't dated anyone since November. But those weren't reasons. They were excuses. And poor ones at that. He knew it almost as soon as he started to do it.

He did it anyway.

He put his hand on the nape of Jason's neck and kissed him.

And then, because there was no way to pretend he hadn't just done it, and because he'd wanted to do it for three years or more, and because nothing he had done had been so completely pleasurable, he kissed him again.

He fully expected to be dropped the remaining eight inches to the floor. After that, he didn't know, though it probably wouldn't be good. He totally did not expect what did happen.

Jason kissed him back. Gently at first, moving his hand off Billy's arm to his face. Then he stepped it up a little, catching Billy's lower lip between his teeth and nibbling a tiny bit, pushing his thumb against Billy's jaw and thrusting his tongue inside his mouth. It was a long, passionate kiss, a movie kiss, a kiss Billy could have had go on forever except... "Jason," he said as soon as he could, "my knee—"

Then he was on the couch with no clear memory of how he'd gotten there; presumably Jason had carried him, but since he hadn't stopped kissing him, the details were hazy at best. One of Jason's hands was rubbing his knee; the other was braced beside his shoulder on the back of the couch, and Jason was leaning into him, kissing him deeply.

And then, just as suddenly, he wasn't. He was on his feet, a yard away, staring, an expression of sheer panic on his face. And before Billy could gather his wits enough to say anything, he was out the front door and gone. Billy heard the engine in the Subaru turn over before he could get to his feet, let alone to the door.

Oh, great. Just brilliant, he castigated himself.

And it didn't help that he was as turned on as he'd ever been in his life.

Just phenomenal. His knee hurt, he had a hard-on that wouldn't quit, and he'd almost certainly just lost his best friend. What a wonderful... he looked at his watch. What a wonderful, action-packed ten minutes that was.

He hoped Jason was going home. He really hoped he was driving carefully.

Well, that thought solved one of his problems, anyway. He should put a hot compress on his knee, maybe soak it. Which would leave him with the serious problem. The one that was entirely his own fault.

Luka came out but he didn't want to hear it. Later. He directed that at her as fiercely as he knew how. She let him know that there would be a later, but then she faded, leaving him alone. As he ought to be.

Leaning on the wall, he made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Alone. What did Henry Adams say? 'One friend in a lifetime is much, two are many, three are hardly possible'? Intelligent decision, he rebuked himself. He'd had three, now he might not have any. He'd probably lost Jason. Maybe he could keep Kim, but Tommy? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure if he'd keep Kim if he lost Tommy... And for what? He leaned against the shower wall and let the hot water wash away his tears until it started to run cold.

By then he was calmer. No happier, but ready to make a plan. Try and make one, at any rate.

The phone rang while he was dressing. He very nearly let the machine pick it up, but any distraction would be welcome at the moment. Holding his shirt in one hand he grabbed the phone.

"Billy?"

It was Jason. Billy froze. Why would Jason be calling? Oh, god. "Jason?"

"Billy..." Jason sounded distraught. "Billy, I need to talk to you."

"Of course." The shirt slipped from his hand. "Jason—"

"Let me," Jason said quickly. "Billy... something happened to me this afternoon. I really need to talk to someone about it. And I know this isn't fair, but... you're the only person I have to talk to. About important stuff. Like this. My friend."

Billy sat down on his bed and pulled himself together. "Of course you can talk to me, Jason," he said, reaching inside himself for some calm. He wants me to play this as if I'm not involved... I can do this. I can be here for him. I can. "What happened?"

Jason was quiet for a moment. "I kissed a guy."

"You did what?" Billy was proud of that tone. It combined skepticism and amusement in just the right amounts.

"I kissed a guy."

"You kissed him? Or he kissed you?" And maybe that was cheating, but it gave Jason the out he so obviously needed. If you ignored the greater part of the... incident.

"Well... he kissed me first. But he wouldn't have done that without a reason. Nobody kisses somebody without a reason. And it doesn't matter. I kissed him back." Jason wasn't prepared to ignore things.

"What kind of a reason do you mean?"

"He must've thought I wanted him to. Must've thought..."

"Okay, forget that, Jason. What he thought doesn't matter." Billy jumped in without hesitation; the confusion and pain in Jason's voice wouldn't let him do otherwise. "I don't know how many times I've heard girls say some guy made a move they didn't want. Clearly gay guys aren't any better at reading signals than straight ones. Forget him. What about you? What do you mean, you kissed him back?"

"What does it sound like I mean?"

"Jason, it could mean you wanted to kiss him—except then you probably would still be with him, not home—are you at home?"

"Yes."

Well, that was something, anyway. Billy felt some of his tension dissolve. "It could mean you just like kissing. It could mean you were confused. It could mean—"

"Just like kissing?" Jason sounded disbelieving.

"Hey," Billy tried for casual, thought he came very close. Close enough for over the phone. "Guys like sex. I mean, your father's a cop. You have to have heard stories..."

Jason made a little noncommittal noise. "What was that other thing? Confused?"

"Curious."

"Is there another one?"

"What do you mean, kissed him back? You let him? You responded?" Billy hoped that was vague enough.

"Responded," Jason said disgustedly. "I was all over him... I mean. I got aggressive."

That was the magic word. "Aggressive? You took over?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, I mean, you could have punched him. But you got male with him that way instead. That's all it was."

"You think?"

"Yes. I do. I mean, aggressive sex is about power." This had to be the most surreal conversation he'd ever participated in in his entire life. He'd better be accumulating a lot of extra credit for this. "That's all it was. You felt threatened, maybe—"

"I wouldn't say that, exactly."

"Close though, am I right?" He waited a moment. "And you took control back. You went alpha male."

"If that's supposed to be making me feel better—"

Billy pounded his fist into his knee. He'd gone too far in the other direction; Jason had heard the wrong kind of stories. "No. I mean, all you did was kiss him, right? Right?"

"Yeah."

"So, how bad is that? And he started it. It doesn't make you a rapist." He used the word deliberately, with a heavy dose of incredulity.

"Well, no, of course not... No. It doesn't." That sounded better.

"No," Billy repeated. "It makes you a guy who reacted to something unexpected in a pretty normal way. That's all."

"I guess so. I guess..."

"You okay, Jason?"

"Yeah." He paused a moment, then, "Yeah. I am. Thanks, Billy."

"Any time."

Jason hung up and Billy stared at the phone for a few minutes. Then he put the receiver down and leaned against the headboard, staring into the fuzzy dimness of his room. Just maybe this whole thing was salvageable. Take a cue from Jason, pretend it was some other guy, listen to your own words—no good at reading signals—and just maybe Jason will still take your calls after you go to college. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on his knees, clasping his hands together at the back of his head. Luckier than you deserve to be.

He lost track of time again; didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he felt the Power. He stiffened. Jason was coming down the hall. Why would he come over, after that phone call, except... He sat up and reached for his glasses, then changed his mind and left them where they were. It wasn't like he needed them to identify him, and he didn't want to see the expression on Jason's face.

The door opened. "Billy," Jason said, then stopped. "Billy, don't look like that," he said, "God, don't look like that, I'm here, I'm sorry, I was confused but I'm not any more." And then he was on the bed, embracing him, and before Billy could adjust to the new reality, Jason was kissing him. Not like earlier, not gently or exploratorily, but hungrily, overwhelmingly, his tongue thrusting deeply into Billy's mouth while he pushed Billy up against the headboard and kissed him until he was feeling a little light-headed. Oxygen deprivation, he conjectured, as he held on, which was about all he could do in the face of Jason's literally stunning passion. Resistance never crossed his mind. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

Jason kissed his way down Billy's throat to his chest, nibbling on his shoulders and then nipples. He yanked on Billy's shorts, tugging them out of the way. Billy lifted his hips to make it easier, and Jason pulled him down on his back, straddling him and continuing his way down.

When Jason took him in his mouth, Billy couldn't believe the feeling. He arched his back, thrusting blindly, reaching for Jason. Jason leaned one hand against Billy's hip, holding him down, and caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. His mouth was hot and driving Billy crazy. "Oh, god, oh god," he moaned, throwing his head back. "Oh, god..." With his last scrap of reason, he realized he was on the edge. "Jason. Jason, I'm—" He couldn't finish the sentence, because Jason's reaction was to go down harder. As the world exploded inside his mind, he heard himself howling.

When he could open his eyes, Jason's were only inches away, wide-pupilled and desire-filled. He reached for him, and Jason hesitated. Billy took only a second to realize why, and then tightened his grip on the back of Jason's neck and pulled his head down, tasting the new flavor of himself in the other's mouth. Jason's hesitation vanished and he bore down again, his mouth claiming Billy's. His left hand was still entwined in Billy's right, and he was taking some of his weight on his own right, but he was covering Billy's body with his own in a possessive manner that turned his bones into the proverbial water. Billy could feel Jason's cock between his thighs and he tightened his legs around Jason's hips as much as he could, his free hand sliding down to grip Jason's shoulder as the other thrust against him until his own release came and he collapsed, trembling, on top of him.

After a moment, Billy worked his hand loose from Jason's and flexed it. There were going to be some bruises there in the morning, but that didn't matter. He slid both hands under Jason's red sweatshirt, stroking him as he calmed, holding him.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before Jason moved, turning his head and kissing his shoulder gently. "Are you all right?"

"Better than all right," Billy answered.

"I didn't actually come over here to ravage you," Jason said against his throat.

"No? Then I'm glad you lost track of your agenda," Billy said.

"Me, too," Jason confessed.

"What did you come over to do?" Billy asked after a moment.

"Talk," Jason said. "Maybe neck a little..."

Billy chuckled. "Do you want to slow down? I think airbags might deploy..."

"God, no," Jason said.

"Good." After a long moment, Billy said, making sure the amusement was audible, "Okay. Now that was aggressive."

"Well, at least it wasn't confused."

"Oh, no," he agreed. "Not in the slightest."

Jason kissed Billy's throat and then pushed away.

"Where are you going?" Billy said before he could stop himself.

"To shut the door before your dad gets home," Jason said. "And I thought I might take off the rest of my clothes."

Billy chuckled again. "Perhaps I should get one of those window signs they sell for diners."

Jason stared at him, obviously not getting it.

Billy shook his head. "No Shirt, No Shoes—"

"No Service," Jason finished, shaking his own head and then laughing. "So, is that how you like it?"

"I think I like it any way I get it, if it's from you."

Jason paused with his shirt halfway off, then finished quickly, pushing his shoes off with his feet as he snuggled up next to Billy, pulling the blankets over them. "Good," he murmured very seriously. "Because I want to take my time next time."

Billy turned over and rested his head on Jason's shoulder. "Works for me," he said softly.

"Tired?" Jason's voice had a hint of worry in it.

"Just sleepy, that's all."

Jason put his hand in Billy's hair and his arm over him, holding him close. "Sleep, then," he said. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."

"Ummmm," was all the answer he could manage.

When he woke, Jason had slipped out from under him, all but one arm. He was lying beside him, resting his cheek against Billy's shoulder, and Billy could feel him, just barely, drifting his fingers along his back. For a moment or two, it was just random motion, and then Billy realized Jason was tracing his scars.

"Jason?" he asked quietly, and felt Jason's hand stop moving. "Jason... do you mind?"

"Mind?" Jason sounded uncertain what he meant, then, "Oh. No. God, no, Billy. They're beautiful. They mean you're alive." He shifted his position slightly and kissed one of the scars, then rested his head on Billy's ribs. "You're alive," he repeated. "You're alive, and you're mine, and nothing in the world, nothing, can make that anything but beautiful."

At that moment Billy felt more alive and more complete than he had since waking up in the hospital, and happier than he had in years before that. Jason's weight against him was comforting, and his love was as tangible as his body, as real as his parents' had been. He could sort Jason's presence from the Morphin Power and he knew it would be with him always. In her corner of his mind, Luka was radiating approval. He sighed, his contentment so deep he couldn't find words to capture it and make it manageable. It just was.

Jason slid his free arm around Billy and found his hand, entwining their fingers. "That day," he said softly, "waiting while you were in surgery..."

"It's okay, Jason." He couldn't stand the pain in Jason's voice.

"Let me say it," Jason said. "I need to say it."

Billy reached up with his other hand and anchored himself on Jason's arm. "I'm listening," he said.

"That day, especially I think that night, I knew, part of me knew, anyway, just what I meant when I said I loved you. That 'like a brother' wasn't right, that there was no 'brotherly' feeling in me at all, that Tommy was my best friend because you were something infinitely more important, that if you died my world would turn to ashes..." His voice broke and Billy felt tears on his back. "That part of me," Jason resumed after a minute, sounding a trifle ragged, "I was so scared that part of me couldn't function, couldn't do anything at all but just run in circles screaming. When it wasn't shut down totally. The little part that was left, that was doing things—the Red Ranger part—he did everything that needed to be done, but..." he paused again. "That was the part that runs on automatic. The part that doesn't really think. That part was all I'm-not-gay, he's-just-a-friend, I'm-a-quarterback-not-a-ballet-dancer, I'm-normal. All not even thinking that on the surface. All everything you said on the phone, except none of it was true. God, no wonder you didn't know what was happening. I was putting out some really confusing signals."

"I don't—" Billy started.

"I know you don't," Jason interrupted. "You should. God, Billy, I almost nailed you on that couch. And then I ran like a dog. And then I made that phone call—was there ever anything more unfair than that phone call? God, if Anna hadn't broken up with me last month, I'd've gone out with her and nailed her. I almost called her anyway."

"But you called me," Billy said, "and that was the best present you ever gave me, Jason, you forgave me, you wanted to stay my friend—"

"I wanted you," said Jason. "I was still too scared to come over and say it, but I was hoping you'd talk me into it. And then you did your level best not to, to make me feel it wasn't my fault, and I woke up. But, God, Billy, I put you through hell today and I'm so sorry for it."

"It turned out well," Billy said, stroking Jason's arm. "I understand; I've been through it myself, remember?"

"I'm so sorry," Jason repeated, but he didn't sound as distraught as he had.

"I know you are. I forgive you. I love you."

"I love you, too." Jason kissed his shoulder. "Oh, lord," something suddenly struck him. "Anna... God, how you must have hated it, sitting there in L.A. and listening to me go on about her. Especially after she broke up with me."

Billy decided this wasn't the moment to say that had been easier in many ways than watching Jason date people. "I wanted you to be happy," he said, truthfully. "Plus, it could have been worse."

"Oh?"

"It could have been an Andrew."

With a sudden convulsive movement Jason had them face to face, his hand on Billy's cheek and his eyes only inches away. "That will never happen," he said. "You are my forever. If you leave me, I'm still yours. Nothing can change that. Nothing."

Billy was shaken by Jason's intensity. "Speaking of things that will never happen, my leaving you is right up there on the list." He pushed Jason onto his back and claimed his mouth.

Jason cooperated completely, yielding to Billy's embrace. Then, as Billy settled against him, he said, "I'm sorry about this afternoon."

"Jason, please don't keep on apologizing for it. It's all right."

"Billy—"

Something that H.L. Mencken had said came to his mind, and he decided it was apropos. "We are here and it is now. Further than that all human knowledge is moonshine."

There was a long pause. Then, "You are the oddest person," Jason said.

"Ummmm... in a good way? Or—"

"Always in a good way," Jason affirmed. "Better than good." He sighed and threaded his fingers through Billy's hair. "What happens now?"

"What do you want to happen?"

Jason was quiet for a minute. "I don't know," he admitted.

"That's to be expected. It's a new idea for you."

Jason threaded his hand through Billy's hair a couple more times. "How long for you?"

"Which? Being gay, or being in love with you? Not that it matters, I think they're the same thing. My whole life, I suppose. I knew it, oh, fourteen?" He shrugged. "Junior high, anyway, I knew for sure. I've never done anything, though."

"Never?"

"This is Angel Grove. Where would I go to do anything?" He raised his head to look at Jason. "And why would I want to do anything with anyone but you?"

Jason smiled, looking simultaneously contented and surprised. Then, predictably, "Oh, God. That was your first kiss?"

"Jason, it was everything I could have wanted my first kiss to be."

"And then—"

"Jason, did you hear me say no? Did you hear me say stop? Because I don't remember saying either. I wanted that. I wanted that as much as you did."

He stared into Jason's midnight-dark eyes, willing him to hear the truth. Luka added her vehemence to his, and after a few moments he felt Jason relax. He thought, though he wasn't sure, that Jason's bear, immersed in the Power, had nonetheless caught Luka's emotion and passed the certainty on. At any rate, Jason believed him, which was the crucial thing.

"Have you told your dad?" There was a touch of trepidation there.

Billy smiled, remembering. "Two years ago, a little longer actually, my father came home from a business trip to Northern California with some books. You might want to borrow a couple of them, in fact," it occurred to him. "Is It a Choice? and Straight Parents, Gay Children. They helped us a lot."

Jason sounded amused. "I don't know which is weirder," he said. "That they write books for everything, or that you can find one for anything. And do."

"Being human is being able to learn from people you never meet," Billy pointed out. "Even from dead people."

"My dad's not much of a reader," Jason said.

"Your mother is. And you don't know much, yet, either."

"True, all true. Okay, I'll borrow them. Later." He shifted so he could look into Billy's eyes. "So, what did he say when you told him?"

"Sorry. I was unclear. He told me. That's why he brought the books home. He was not knowledgeable on the subject, and he wanted to be. Before we talked."

"He told... Well, that's not gonna happen with my folks," Jason said, laughing. "I think I can guarantee that much. I don't know what I'm going to say."

"We'll figure it out," Billy said. "But we don't have to do it tonight. Or even this week."

"But soon," said Jason, in what he fondly imagined was a good Bogart impression. "And for the rest of our lives."

Billy was in agreement with the sentiment, so he let the delivery pass unchallenged.

Billy sat at the table in the Cranstons' kitchen and watched the other three with an air of bemusement.

"What's that look for?" Kim asked.

"Actually, I was just thinking—" he ignored the groans from Tommy and Jason "—that if there were such things as genii loci, the one in this kitchen would be extremely confused."

"Okay," Jason said exasperatedly. "What's a jeanie lossuh, and what are you laughing at, Kim? Don't tell me you know."

"I have no idea," she confessed. "I just suddenly pictured Billy as Rosalind Russell, handing you a little notebook—"

Billy nearly snorted coffee onto the table.

"What?" said Jason dangerously.

"Oh, no," Billy said. "It was her idea."

"Wasn't that Lucy?" said Tommy.

"That was the remake," Billy said.

"Somebody is going to get hit," Jason said, glaring at Tommy, the only one it was safe for him to threaten.

"It's Mame," said Tommy, snickering. "She gives her nephew a notebook and tells him to write down every word he doesn't understand—"

"Cute," Jason turned the glare on Kim. "It would easier to just buy a dictionary."

"We could just ask him," she said, turning her limpid brown gaze on Billy. "What is a genii loci?"

"It's one genius loci, two genii, and it means 'spirit of the place'," he said. "And this one would be confused because there are people here who know what they're doing in a kitchen."

Jason grinned. He was chopping onions prior to sautéing them and adding chicken; Tommy was stirring an alfredo sauce; Kim was tossing a salad. And all three of those activities were well out of Billy's range as a cook—as he'd told Jason, his idea of gourmet cooking was Marie Callendar in the microwave, and that was for special occasions only. And his father had taught him everything he knew—everything his father knew, that was.

Billy shifted slightly in his chair as soon as Jason turned back to the stove. He'd done way too much walking today; his legs ached. The therapist in L.A. had warned him about overdoing it, but he kept thinking, it's just down the hall... After a minute, he said, "So, what did you kids do in school today?"

Jason snarled at the innocent onions. He was still furious about the way Principal Kaplan had handled Billy's early 'graduation'. Rather than try to deal with any ADA-generated problems, especially for a science-heavy senior most of whose classes were on the second floor, the school had just decreed that Billy was graduated. It wasn't like he hadn't had the credits for it by the end of his sophomore year, he'd been taking honors, AP, and college extension courses since then, so Billy didn't really care. But Jason did. A quick brush-off, not being valedictorian (though Billy certainly didn't mind not having to give a speech), not even being there at commencement... the slightest reference to it angered him all over again. It was a new insight into his lover, how long he could actually hold onto a grudge... Billy was hoping to get him desensitized enough that he'd go to the commencement ceremony himself.

Kim set the salad bowl on the table. The four of them had been spending nearly all their time together since Billy had come back from L.A. Edmund Cranston had been out of town much more than usual, making up for not going out of town at all for three months, and they'd settled into a habit of eating dinner at the Cranstons' house a couple of times a week. Jason had accepted, back at Billy's welcome home party, that the other three Rangers weren't going to be there; Alpha had even told them that this team incarnation was much more usual. Billy missed Rocky and Trini, though of course he did still see them both, and they were still friends, and he regretted the opportunity to get to know Adam, whom he thought he'd have liked a great deal, but on the other hand, the closeness of this group was very special.

He remembered the night he and Jason had told Kim and Tommy about their relationship. They had both been a little nervous, especially Jason, for whom it was all new and rather scary. As it had turned out, they needn't have been. Kim was not only unfazed, she was unsurprised. Not to mention pleased—"Now we don't have to worry about either one of you picking some moron who'd ruin our friendship," she'd said joyfully. "Plus, now I don't have to worry about you two being unhappy. It's about time you realized you were meant for each other." And she'd already told Tommy, so whatever problems he might have had, they'd never know, because he had worked them out already. Jason had told Billy he couldn't even detect any difference in Tommy's attitude when they worked out. And when Kim added that she had no problems at all going out with the three best looking guys in town, Jason and Billy had both known they were safe with them.

It had been a good dry run for telling Jason's parents. Which they had yet to do. But it had only been a month, so it wasn't as if they were hiding. Really.

Kim broke into that train of thought by returning from the living room—he hadn't even noticed her leave the kitchen—with a short stack of what looked like college catalogs. "We had a meeting with the guidance counselors, for those of us who haven't settled on our colleges yet," she said. She exchanged glances with Tommy; they had something planned, Billy could tell. Luka stirred, manifesting interest. She approved of Kim.

Fortunately, she approved of Jason more.

Kim pushed aside the knife and spoon in front of Billy and put down the catalogs. The top one was Harvard. He glanced at Kim, then looked at the second. U. Mass. at Boston. And Boston College was under that. "Jason said you were leaning towards MIT," she said.

"Well, yes—"

"Jason said you thought about Stanford but he was sure you preferred MIT," Tommy interpolated. "MIT's better. Mostly 'cause it's not in California."

Billy raised an eyebrow. The other three were native Californians, and he'd never heard them express dissatisfaction with it. He only thought about Stanford for Jason's sake.

"See," Kim said, "we were talking about it, me and Tommy. We don't think we should stick around after there's a new Ranger team."

"Oh?" Billy hadn't given that aspect any real thought. Now that he did—

"We'll figure out who they are," Tommy said, "I mean, we'll know Rocky and Adam anyway. And we don't want Rocky to be thinking we're looking over his shoulder, thinking we could have done better."

"Plus," said Kim, "this Ninjetti adept thing. If our animals are real, and if they survive—"

"Yes to the former, and so far to the latter," Billy answered her half-question.

"Then I don't think Zordon will want us trying to figure anything out in even the near vicinity of the Rangers. Jason thinks Rangers can't afford to think about it, and I admit he's right."

"Well, yes." That seemed self-evident now that it had been pointed out.

"So," she flipped open the UMB catalog at a post-it, "UMB has a Criminal Justice program." Jason turned around at that, then turned back to his skillet and began throwing chicken into it with what seemed to Billy unnecessary force. "It would be perfect for Jason. I'm applying to Harvard, but I'll cover myself with UMB and Boston College. I want Harvard Medical, but BC has a good program, and there's Tufts, and for that matter, U Mass has a great medical school."

"Isn't that in Worcester?" Billy asked.

"Worcester's only thirty miles from Cambridge," said Tommy. "I think she'd do better there than BC or Tufts."

"Whichever," Kim said. "The point is, if you're at MIT and I'm at Harvard or UMB or wherever, Jason ought to go to UMB, too."

"Jason is in the room," the brunet said pointedly.

"Your grades are good enough to get you into UMB," Billy said.

"It's not UMB I object to. It's college at all. I don't need to go to college."

"You're letting your current acute dissatisfaction with the educational establishment dictate your future," said Billy. "It's not smart."

Jason hunched a shoulder at him.

"Besides, if you develop a sudden passion for UMB you could postpone telling your parents for a year or more."

"Low blow, Cranston," said Jason, but he was only mildly annoyed. "Criminal Justice program, huh?"

"Leading to a career in Law Enforcement," Kim affirmed.

"So," Jason stirred the chicken. "How's the linguini, Tommy?"

"One more minute."

"You brought an application for me?" Jason gave in.

"Sure," she said, picking up the catalogs and putting them on the counter. "Best thing is," she sat down across from Billy, "if we're all in school in Boston, or at least the three of us, we can save a lot of money by living together."

Jason began transferring the chicken to a serving dish, a smile spreading across his face. "All of us? That part sounds good, at any rate."

"Yes," Billy said. "It does."

They had cut class. Well, she and Tommy and Jason were. But it was the last week of school, they'd taken their last exams, and no one really expected them to be in class. The freshmen had been released at noon, anyway... and sometime in the very near future, in fact the practically now future, four of them were going to be tapped for something beyond their wildest dreams. Kim eyed the pizza box on the Cranstons' coffee table and decided she didn't want the last piece even as Jason reached over her head to grab it.

He and Billy were on the couch, the blond carefully tucked up in a corner while the darker Jason somehow managed to sprawl over the rest of the piece of furniture without crowding him. Billy's eyes met hers; he smiled at her and she returned it, feeling happy despite what was about to happen. She leaned against Tommy, who was sitting back against the couch with his legs stretched out under the table. She felt unreasonably proud that he was so completely unruffled by Billy and Jason's relationship. Nothing had ever felt righter to her than the four of them. In an odd way, she could hardly wait to get to Boston.

Billy had no way to prepare them for what was going to happen. He'd been profoundly unconscious still when Adam took up the Blue Coin, and that had to be the defining difference. After all, they'd all of them been cut off from the Grid before, and the light touch of the Ninjetti Spirits hadn't shown themselves, even to Billy, whose Wolf was the strongest of them. It would be new.

They'd invited Trini to join them, and she would have but that her parents had taken her to San Francisco with them to attend a cousin's wedding. Kim hoped Trini would be okay, then thought, why do I think it'll be hard? Billy's fine... Even as she thought that, he held out his hand. She took it, holding tight, but neither of them said anything. None of them had spoken for half an hour, maybe longer.

Jason slid his hand over Kim's head in a light caress as he reached for his Coke on the table. Then, quite suddenly, he stiffened, and the Coke fell through his fingers. Tommy, amazingly, actually caught it before it hit the floor, reaching to steady Jason with his other hand. She put her other hand on Jason's leg next to her shoulder, felt Billy lean forward against Tommy to put his arm across Jason's back—

And then it was her. Her hand convulsed on Billy's, and yet... it doesn't hurt, she realized incredulously. It was ... liberating.

She wasn't sure how long they were like that, all touching, all feeling. How long does 'now' last? She could understand why Billy had been so frustrated trying to explain this: how do you explain color to the blind, music to the deaf, love to the alone? She couldn't even tell whether the crane that spread Her wings and began dancing was inside her mind or somewhere immense distances away—She was as near as the next heartbeat and as far. Nothing was real; nothing had ever been more real. For a time she was open to the stars, and then the universe shifted around her and she felt, just briefly, as if vast winds were lifting her. A cry, haunting and needful, carried to her soul. Tommy... far above her, right beside her, immediate, real...

She let go of Billy's hand and Jason's leg and reached for him. He came to her as urgently, their mouths hungry and nourishing. She felt him, solid and warm under her hands, his hands hot and urgent on her. She held him, anchoring herself to reality, and lost herself in it and him.

When reality settled down so that she could comprehend it again, her body and Tommy's were conspiring to send her mind over the edge into another, far more familiar paradise. She let them.

It wasn't until she collapsed, trembling, against his chest that she remembered where they were. And who else was there. Oddly, she didn't mind, really; she wouldn't want to make a habit of it, but this had been a very unique thing. She smiled; she could hear Billy rebuking her gently, there are no degrees of uniqueness. She'd have to ask him; she bet he wouldn't disagree with her this time.

She didn't want to open her eyes. She wasn't sure which would be strangest: seeing the living room filled with animals, or not. She was sure Mr. Cranston would prefer the 'not', but... she felt as if she had seen them. The Crane, most clearly, white shaded with rose, bold black neck and tail edgings. Tanchoo—graceful, agile, dancer and fighter. She smiled in satisfaction. No wonder Billy hadn't been able to describe this. Tanchoo was her and yet not her, inside her mind and yet from another place, another realm. Kim had always been at ease with the magical side of the Morphin experience, she slid into Ninjetti like... like a crane into a river. She smiled at the thought.

But Tanchoo was not the only presence she could feel. The Falcon was there, sand and brown and black and blazing with white, like starlight, windrider, lord of the sky. And the Bear, a dark bulk with glints of red, dark but not in any way evil. Strong, solid... even as Billy had said half a year ago—no longer than that?—a fierce protector. If the Crane was water, the river of life and feeling, and the Falcon was air, the wind of soul and spirit, then the Bear was earth, the rocks of heart and courage. And the Wolf... Luka, smiling at them—Kim could tell she was—silver-blue and lambently alive, Luka was fire, the flame of mind and ideas.

And with them, but separate, distinct, dearly loved and known and forever recognizable, the men... she could have put her hand out in the darkness behind her closed eyes and touched each one unerringly. She knew they'd been right in their decision to go to Boston together. She knew they'd spend the rest of their lives together.

She turned her head as something touched her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she met Billy's warm green gaze; he had pulled a throw off the couch and was draping it over her and Tommy. Another was already over him and Jason, who had clearly been too occupied with each other to notice any more of what had been going on not two feet away from them than she had. All she could see of Jason at the moment were his bare shoulders and the back of his black head, but she and Billy seemed to realize they had seen into each other's souls just then, if only briefly. They knew each other.

She and Billy smiled at the same time. "Wow," she said.

"Absolutely," he agreed. Then he dug his chin into Jason's thick black hair and said, "I guess it's a good thing Trini wasn't here."

The back of Jason's neck betrayed his blush. She didn't dare look at Tommy for fear she'd break out laughing. And who'd have thought Billy would have been the most at ease? That did make her giggle. She sat up, slowly and languorously, disentangled herself from Tommy, and leaned back against the couch, her hair falling over Jason's arm. "Kim," Tommy said, tucking the throw around her.

She giggled again; she felt giddy. "If anybody in this room should be worried about not having a shirt on," she pointed out, "it's not me."

Tommy blushed, but he didn't move. Cranes and falcons mate for life, she thought. And so do wolves. She leaned back a little, feeling the solid warmth of Jason against her shoulders. Remembering the expression on Jason's face when he looked at Billy, she added, and whether bears do or not, Jason does. Still feeling high, she looked at Billy and asked, "Is it like that every time now?"

"I have no idea," he confessed. "This was our first time with Jason not connected to the Grid, after all."

Jason made a small noise of protest or embarrassment or, Kim decided, both. It was cute. But Jason didn't have the same history with Billy that she did—watching movies and talking about her boyfriends; she'd been spectacularly unsurprised that he was gay. Any minute now Tommy will say something to prove he's okay with this..., she thought.

Billy added, "We can certainly hope."

"We could find out," Tommy suggested half-seriously.

"We could," Jason broke his silence, his voice actually regretful. "But unless my watch is seriously off, your dad's going to be home in twenty minutes."

"Omigosh," she said, sobering suddenly. "Thank God you guys have two bathrooms."

When Edmund Cranston got home, he found the four of them sitting sedately on the couch watching 'The Wheel of Fortune'. If they were a trifle rumpled and damp-haired, he didn't comment.

EPILOGUE

Jason shut the front door behind him and pulled off his sunglasses and the Angels windbreaker he refused to stop wearing even if Billy had fallen unexpectedly and hopelessly in love with the Red Sox. Spring in Boston was brisk, a tantalizing promise of long lazy summer days made more precious by the storms and snows of the winter. He was finally coming to appreciate what Billy had said to him years ago, that he'd missed seasons when his family had moved to Southern California. Jason still wasn't crazy about blizzards, but they didn't come along all that often. And spring and fall in New England were something to write home about, no doubt about it.

The first floor felt empty to him, no whispering touch of his housemates. He stashed the Ben & Jerry's chocolate-chocolate-whatever—any flavor with the word chocolate in its name twice was bound to be a success with Billy—and headed for the second floor.

When they'd first moved into this house, he'd worried about Billy on those stairs every day. But Billy had claimed it would be the best physical therapy he could get, and Tommy had pointed out that there'd be three other people in the house to give him a hand, and that Luka could let his Lim'ik or Kim's Tanchoo know as easily as Artor if there was real need, so Jason had backed down. Not a big struggle on his part, really, he'd fallen for the three-storey Gothic as hard as the others had. The fenced yard, the trees, the view... Tommy, who was by now using his mechanic's job to supplement being sensei at a local dojo, instead of the other way around, and Jason, who'd be graduating a half-year early and already had a job lined up with the Cambridge PD, had been discussing making a bid on it as soon Jason was gainfully employed. Kim had solid hopes of Harvard Medical School, and Billy might stay at MIT for years yet, though his master's thesis was nearly done and his doctoral program—programs, rather—were already in train. Even if they moved somewhere later, for Kim or Billy's career, buying made more sense than renting.

And if they stayed... Well, they all loved this house.

And Billy had been right about the stairs. He wasn't doing any jogging yet, but in time, even that might happen.

Jason climbed the stairs to the top floor, knowing as he passed the second that Billy wasn't there. Sometimes he wished he could sneak up on his lifemate, but the constant reassurance of his presence made that a fleeting wish indeed. He paused in the doorway to their bedroom, taking in the sight, no more used to it and his right to see it now than he'd ever been. Billy was sitting in the bay window, reading something, the thick book propped on his knees. He was wearing a dark topaz University of Massachusetts teeshirt and khaki shorts, and his feet were bare; behind him out the window redbuds were tossing in the spring breeze. In the sunlight he looked warm and golden. Jason found himself swallowing. Over three years, he thought, and he still gets to me like this. I don't deserve this.

He walked over to the window seat and Billy turned to smile at him in welcome. "Hi," he said. "You got done quickly."

"It was a nothing exam," Jason said, bending down and kissing him gently.

Billy reached up and ran his hand through Jason's hair. "You're on the wrong coast," he said with amusement, dusting windblown flower petals onto the floor.

Jason shook his head, raking his own hand through to get rid of the last of the blossoms. Then he sat down on the window seat; when Billy started to move his feet to make room for him, Jason caught them and settled them in his lap. "You look like a hearthfire," he said, running a hand down one of Billy's calves. "A place where I can warm my soul."

Billy's smile was loving. "Big, macho jock," he said tenderly. "A closet romantic. Who'd believe it?"

"Anybody who knows the way I feel about you." Jason leaned forward and rested his cheek on Billy's knee.

"I'm trying to read." He didn't sound disturbed.

Jason smiled and sat back but didn't let go of his feet. "Finish your chapter," he said.

Billy snorted. "So kind..."

Jason sat quietly, rubbing one of his lifemate's feet. They were going to Vermont this summer. Kim and Tommy were standing up with them, the way they had when those two had gotten married. His parents were coming, and Billy's dad. They'd already made their hotel reservations. This time it hadn't all fallen apart, like Hawaii; Vermont had actually come through with legislation. It was a done deal. And they were actually going to be married. Well, civilly united, but it was the same thing. He'd occasionally run across books or movies from the Sixties where people would say, rebelliously, that they didn't need a piece of paper... well, he needed it. Formal, legal, I belong to him and he to me, never again having to sit in the outer rooms, waiting on other people's whims or kindnesses...

He must have put on a little too much pressure, because Billy looked up at him. "What?"

He gentled his touch and rubbed his thumb along Billy's left ankle. "That brace is still rubbing here," he said.

"I know," Billy returned to his book, adding, distractedly, "I've got an appointment tomorrow..." He picked up a highlighter that had been lying beside him next to the window and began lining through a whole paragraph.

Jason watched him concentrating. Another eighty-dollar textbook, he thought. As a graduate student Billy's book budget was even higher than it had been when he was packing four years of undergrad work into two. Still, MIT was picking up every penny of it, so Jason couldn't complain, only shake his head in bemusement. After Billy put the marker down, he said, "So, Kim and Tommy gone already?"

Billy nodded, not taking his eyes off the page. "They left an hour ago." He pulled his foot out of Jason's hands. "I thought you were going to let me finish this chapter?"

"I was. I am," he corrected himself and recaptured the foot. "But..."

"But?" Billy refused to look up, but his tone was anything but forbidding.

"But," Jason slid his hand up along the leg to the back of the knee. "That lecture's not till Monday, isn't it? You've got all weekend to read up for it. Like you need to," he added, caressing Billy's calf.

"They're going to be in New York all weekend, too," said Billy.

Jason leaned forward and kissed his ankle, then slowly licked a line upwards to his knee and kissed that with a slight graze of his teeth against the spot on the outside of the knee. Billy's muscles tightened but he didn't say anything. Jason kissed his knee again and added, "Artor thinks now's a good time."

"According to you, Artor always thinks now is a good time."

"Now is the only time there is."

"You and that bear are a good match," Billy said. "It's a wonder I ever graduated. It'll be a bigger wonder if you ever do..." He didn't drop the book, he never dropped books; he closed it and laid it on the floor before reaching for Jason with no reluctance whatsoever.

Life is good, Jason thought before he stopped thinking altogether. Life is very good indeed.