Chapter 15: Anywhere But Here.
4:03 PM
Lakeside Café
The round dark-green table is littered with shredded napkins and empty pitchers. The waitress has been unobtrusively bringing more tea every few minutes. Silence has yet to be broken.
Tommy’s swollen red eyes are directed firmly to his clasped hands in his lap. He withdrew into himself right after Aisha stopped crying and he decided she could handle herself without his support. He is unable to meet anyone’s gaze, afraid to see blame in his friends’ eyes for a crime he didn’t commit. Adam sighs, scuffing the smooth avocado-green linoleum with his right sneaker. His hands are wrapped around his teacup, enjoying the warmth, and he stares down into the dark liquid as if hoping to find some answers. Billy is leaning forward, his elbows propped on the table, his head held up by his palms. His face is unusually blank, as if he’s locked away all his emotions, too afraid to face them. Rocky can’t sit still. He’s been shifting in his chair, taking long gulps of his overly sweetened tea and then adding more sugar into his cup. His drink is now sugar with tea instead of tea with sugar. Aisha folds one leg under herself and toys with a napkin, ripping it neatly into shreds. She drops the mess of paper next to another pile of it and reaches for her cup, taking a tiny sip.
The waitress pads over quietly and hesitantly nudges Rocky’s shoulder. He looks up, his eyes dim.
“Have you decided your order yet?” She doesn’t want to bother the obviously distraught group, but she does have a job to do.
He shakes his head, a bit of hair falling over his eyes, “I dunno…” He looks around quickly and back at her. “Nothing yet, I guess.”
Aisha’s head jerks up at his answer, a Rocky who refuses food is not a good sign in her book. She bites her lip and reaches for a menu. “Can we have a moment please?” she asks, her eyebrows drawing together and frown lines appearing over her forehead.
The waitress draws back to check on other customers, although how well this title fits the Rangers is another question.
Aisha pokes a finger into Tommy’s side, jolting him out of his contemplations of his guilt. He looks up, his eyes lost and confused. She holds out the menu. “Pick. Order. Now.” He shakes his head silently, afraid that words would make all of his pain explode outwards, demolishing everything in its wake. She glares at him. “Now boy.” He exhales loudly, not enough of his will left to deny her, and takes the jade-colored felt folder in his strong tanned fingers.
Aisha scoops up the other four menus and checks her other teammates. They seem disconnected from reality, with their vacant looks and troubled auras. She places her menu on the table and swiftly tosses the others out at them. The outraged cries that result die out at the determined fire in her expression.
“Food is important. When they come back and we’ve all died from malnutrition… well that’s just not something good.” She tosses her braids back, angry at herself, at them, at the situation. “This is plain ridiculous. So eat.” One finger flips the menu open and she looks down, contemplating her choices.
Rocky catches Adam’s eyes and smiles wanly, sharing a silent agreement that once the laughing stops, Aisha is not one to be argued with. Billy opens his mouth, about to say something he’ll regret immediately, but Rocky and Adam elbow him simultaneously in warning. He exhales, pain traveling in rivulets through his ribs, and carefully closes his mouth. He glares at Rocky, who smiles innocently, then at Adam, who shrugs and pushes the menu to him. With a sigh, the brilliant blond opens the jade folder.
Rocky and Adam share a satisfied look over Billy’s head. Adam breaks his gaze away and skims over the specials. Rocky pushes his menu to the center of the table, not needing it to decide what he wants. Aisha hears the faint scraping his actions make and her head shoots up, a repeat order on her lips. He catches her eyes and makes a face. She tilts her head in acknowledgement and slams her menu closed with unnecessary violence.
The waitress ventures to their table slowly and pulls out a small pad from her back pocket. Her nimble fingers reach for the pencil tucked behind her ear and she tests its sharpness quickly. Satisfied, she moves to Aisha and says quietly, “Did you decide?”
Aisha nods tiredly, her beads clinking together. “Waffles with strawberries, chocolate sauce and whipped cream, please.”
Rocky is surprised at that, her preferences usually running to the simpler and less fattening. He draws his lower lip into his mouth and worries it with teeth. As the waitress’ questing eyes land on him, he inclines his head to indicate that she should ask Tommy next.
Tommy is clutching the menu forcefully and still looks worn as he responds to the unspoken question, “Grilled cheese with a side of fries. Thanks.”
Billy narrows his eyes at that answer, remembering something. He makes a mental note to speak to Tommy about it later.
The young woman checks over her scribbles quickly and directs her question to Adam. He slips the folder onto the table carefully and smiles painfully. “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad.”
Aisha smiles bitterly at the sound of Adam’s typical choice. His concern over eating right has made him the fiercest opponent of Rocky’s bad eating habits and it’s at once heartening and jarring to see a sign of normalcy in the midst of the current disaster.
Billy doesn’t wait to be asked. “Fettuccine Alfredo.”
His abrupt reply has Adam watching him with concern. Billy never forgoes the common civilities that he claims are necessary to co-exist with other people. His skipping of them can only mean that he is upset beyond his normal limits. Adam sighs, continuing the trend started by Dulcea.
Rocky’s lower lip slips out of the hold of his teeth and he shifts his weight in the chair. “I want a steak, well-done, with everything, if possible,” he says almost calmly, the light tremor in his voice underlining his drawn features. The waitress nods, hurriedly scrawling on her pad, and rushes to the kitchen.
Silence falls again.
~*~
Time Unknown
Dulcea’s Plateau
Phaedos
Dulcea takes one last look at the two young women working on their tasks and easily lifts herself into a standing position. She raises her arms above her head and strains them skyward. Air rushes into her lungs and Power glimmers around her fingertips. An owl hoots above her and she closes her eyes, connecting with her spirit. She feels her wings flap and lifts her eyelids, the perspective below her familiar and still glorious, even after all these centuries. One turn around the Plateau and she closes her eyes again, flowing back into her body.
A slow, rhythmic tune rolls straight out of the ground and pours like silk over her skin. She smiles slowly, sensing new variations on the theme, and lowers her arms. The melody thumps and begins to race. A tiny breeze picks up, winnowing through the grass. As the harmony speeds up so does the wind. Soon the small draft is a windstorm and Dulcea is satisfied as the major mystery of the Plateau asserts its dominion.
She tenses and then snaps her muscles, breaking into a quick run. Her arms come up and her body lunges low, the quick somersault easy and effortless. Her knees bend and she sprints into the air, doing a complex twist. She drops into a front stance and her hands flash through a long series of punches and blocks. She laughs wildly and her left leg comes up, her left heel pressed against her right thigh. Her leg extends, the ball of her foot making contact with an invisible opponent and then snaps back. Without putting her foot down, she leaps up into a flying kick. From there, the old dance continues true to form and her mind begins to wander.
Her eyes drift closed, unnecessary, for now, in keeping track of her location, and familiar images flash through her mind. Thousands of years swim through her consciousness and settle determinately on a single being, Zordon of Eltar, son of Erka and Ralti.
His eldest sister, Mirati, was Dulcea’s mentor when she first began developing her some of her more unusual powers. Mirati’s dark red hair floats as she laughs and suddenly her brother is there, smiling mischievously. Dulcea inhales sharply and the images speed away to be replaced by a million others.
Erka and cookies, Mirati fielding a vicious attack, Zordon with a book in his hand, Zordon in his loose black gi, Ninjor beating yet another fool in swordplay, Zordon tinkering with an air-speeder, Zordon one last time before the fateful battle… Ninjor’s yearly transmissions from his Temple, Zordon speaking through his tube for the first time, Alie playing with her pet karool, the last testament of the Phaedos Council, the last conversation in Zordon’s Chamber in physical form with his shadowy face looking down from his tube…
She sighs, her chest lifting with strain, and executes a perfect flip. Her body glistens as she sinks down to her knees. Grass tickles her sensitive skin and her hair is thrown up by the last fierce effort of the dying cyclone. The music dies out too and Dulcea is alone with her thoughts.
~*~
4:45 PM California Time // 1:45 AM Geneva
Peace Conference Dormitory Hallway
The hall is barely lit with the thin light strips that run along the sides of the walls. Some light escapes from under the doors where students are still up, studying or just hanging out. The pale pink carpet squishes as bare feet pad along quickly. A toned, pajama-clad figure runs up to a utility closet door. A hand reaches up to rap on the painted wood six times in a peculiar rhythm, dum-dum-dee-dee-dum-dum. The door is pushed open and the figure slips into the total darkness inside.
A tired voice sounds as soon as the door closes again, “Anything? Anywhere?”
“Nope, not a trace…”
“Damn, that idiot! The guys are going to be very mad.”
“Aha, and don’t forget our director.”
“Oh damn.”
Silence reigns and two hands clasp in a bond of friendship before separating again.
“I’ll keep looking…”
“Me too.”
Two forms creep out from the tiny room silently and sneak down the hall, leaving it barren and quiet.
~*~
5:28 PM
Unknown Location
A large, eerily glowing figure inhabits a round, silk-draped chamber. Head propped in hands, dark eyes stare eagerly into an open book. The writing is strange, old yet faintly familiar. “Soon, soon the master will be the servant.”
A quiet voice floats, unnoticed, over the figure, “Soon the servant will serve again.”
~*~
6:12 PM
Lakeside Café
The silence isn’t total anymore, the clinking of utensils and sounds of chewing and gulping bursting in regularly. The tension is a different story, still layered and thick, permeating the group with a deep-seated chill.
Tommy taps his foot against the leg of the table, carefully removing the crust from one of the grilled cheese sandwich halves. He does it with an incredible precision that has Billy watching him with darkened eyes that, bizarrely, look like a wolf’s… or maybe not so bizarrely at all. Tommy finishes his task and takes a careful bite, savoring the simple taste of bread and cheese on his tongue. Billy’s frown grows. Adam looks up, a bit of lettuce speared on his fork, and quickly connects Billy’s frown to Tommy’s actions. He slowly draws the leafy vegetable into his mouth and resolves to talk to both of them soon.
Rocky watches Aisha covertly as she attacks her last chocolate drenched waffle. She literally ripped through her dinner and her sudden sweet tooth is so unusual that he is afraid to look away, as if immediate disaster will follow if he doesn’t watch for it. He picks through his carrots lethargically, which, perversely, has Aisha worried as she catches the sight from under her almost closed eyelids. Unaware of each other’s scrutiny, they simultaneously decide that a serious talk is in the other’s future.
Tommy pops a fry into his mouth and wonders why the taste has him thinking of Kim. He glances absently at Adam and all the endless possibilities of doom for the two Pink Rangers meander through his mind. He can’t decide which of the two has him worried more, Kim with her months of anguish or Kat with her battles with her own darkness and her current weakness. He picks Kim – the responsibilities she bears on this trip could break even her fighting spirit. A picture of Kat appears before him, so fragile after the recent battles, and he changes his mind. Physical weakness may compound her inner scars into a certainty she doesn’t deserve the Power and that will make her give up. He growls under his breath and bolts from his seat, running to the bathroom.
Billy sets his right hand on the edge of his chair to push himself up, when he feels someone’s fingers clench around his wrist. He follows the arm up to Adam’s stern face.
“What’s going on?” the Black Ranger hisses so as not to draw the attention of their other two companions.
“Tommy… what he ordered was what Kim used to make whenever he was on the edge and barely holding on,” Billy replies quietly, withdrawing his hand from Adam’s grip. “He’s very worried about Kim and Kat but he is also battling his conflicting feelings for his girlfriend and his ex…”
The urgency conveyed by Billy’s tone solidifies all the uncertain ideas Adam has been mulling over. He quickly clasps Billy’s hand in support and gestures at him to follow Tommy.
Billy stands up, deceptively casually, and strolls to the men’s room. He pushes open the door and finds Tommy with his head under the faucet. He quietly pulls a bunch of paper towels out of the dispenser and waits patiently. Tommy straightens with a snap, his dripping hair flinging back. Billy wordlessly hands him the paper towels and he takes them, his face suffused with a pale pink color.
“Feel better?” Billy inquires.
Tommy shrugs and lays the paper towels on the counter, before pulling himself up onto it, “I thought the cold water might chase all those thoughts away… pretty foolish huh?” He wipes his wet hands and vainly attempts to dry his hair, which is turning his white t-shirt translucent.
“It is entirely natural to feel conflicted when confronted with a situation of this nature.” Billy is determined to get through to Tommy but his natural shyness sends him straight into geek-mode.
Tommy’s deceptively loose posture tightens sharply as he realizes that Billy has typically seen to the crux of his problem. Shutters drop within his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks casually.
“Tommy…” Billy trails off uncertainly, then inhales and begins again. “I remember that whenever you felt really bad Kim would cook for you and it was always the same thing – grilled cheese and fries.”
A strange light flares up in Tommy’s face. “I feel really bad. So what? We all do.”
Billy shakes his head, his dusky blond hair falling forward. He leans back on a stall and sighs. “Kim coming back, Kat being sick, them both in danger… doesn’t all of that bring up the old feelings you thought you buried and the new ones you aren’t yet sure of?” Billy’s tone is calm and penetrating, hitting Tommy straight in the sore spot.
“No!” he shouts. “I am with Kat. Kim… Kim is my friend…” But by the end of his statement, he sounds lost and unsure of his answer. Tommy drags his fingers through his tangled hair violently and grips the back of his neck with his strong digits. “I hate this…”
Billy looks at him intently and steps forward to grasp his shoulder. “I know. And I also know that you have some hard choices to make and that no matter what you choose people will get hurt.” His face softens and so does his voice, “I’m no Jason but I promise that I listen just as well.”
Tommy shrugs off Billy’s hand and jumps off the counter. He pivots and glances in the mirror for a second before slamming his tight fists into the hard surface of the counter. “I hate what we’ve become.” Billy stays silent, wondering if he’s referring to Kimberly or Kat. “We were so close and we got so far,” Tommy hisses out, “and now we can’t even look at each other. And Kat… man, she’s beautiful and sweet and great and we’re great… and every time I just want to hold on to that Kim is right there in front of my eyes.” He looks at his bruised hands and licks his lips nervously, unsure of what he is revealing. “We have unfinished business is all. Kat and I… that’s the future.” Tommy slips down to the floor and crouches with his back against the counter. Tears slip out silently and mingle with the water on his face.
“You better be sure,” Billy admonishes gently, “and you better make sure everyone knows it.” He settles next to Tommy, shoulder to shoulder, and tries to convey some strength to his friend, who has never seemed so lost and weak before.
~*~
Adam stares intently at a branch in the window and silently wallows in his muddled sense of guilt. His confession to Kim, while shaking off some of his demons, did not cure him of them completely. Suddenly, he feels unable to breathe and the walls of the café close in on him. “Excuse me for a moment, I just need some air,” he chokes out and attempts to walk slowly but his resolve breaks and he runs out of the door.
Rocky gazes after him sadly, but does not follow, knowing that Adam will not talk until he is ready anyway. Instead, he turns a determined glare on Aisha and is startled to see the same look on her face.
“What?” they vocalize simultaneously.
Aisha grins sheepishly and murmurs “You first.”
“Sha,” he starts hesitantly, “You never eat stuff like that… and you never attack your food like it has a pitchfork and is gonna go after you if you don’t get it first.”
She laughs at the image before narrowing her eyes on him. “Rockford Manuel DeSantos, you are one to talk.”
His mouth gapes open at her usage of his full name, which is, as he knows, a sign of the truly stupendous amount of shit he’s in. “What did I do?”
She gestures to his plate, which is more than half full. “You would usually have that finished before we even picked up our forks, so what’s with that? Huh?” her voice holds accusation and a deep concern for his well-being.
“Jittery,” he admits, “I can’t eat when I’m nervous. That’s why I eat so much the rest of the time.” That sends Aisha reeling into memories of their childhood and young Rocky’s tiny frame.
“Damn, this sucks. Majorly,” she protests. “And I hate waffles.” Rocky raises an eyebrow at that statement and she hurries to explain. “Waffles were what Kim and I used to eat on Saturday mornings when we’d have girl time and just bond before Zedd’s antics would call us to duty.” She smiles sheepishly. “She likes hers with chocolate and strawberries.” He reaches a hand under the table and grasps her trembling fingers gently. “I’m a’ight,” she responds automatically, “I’ll be a’ight.” He nods and lets go.
“Everything ok?” Billy’s subdued voice sounds from behind Rocky.
They nod at him and Rocky slowly picks up his fork to continue eating. Aisha smiles, recognizing his actions for what they are – his desire to allay her fears. She reaches for a napkin and twists it harshly between her nimble digits.
“Is he ok?” she wonders barely audibly, glancing up at Billy.
He shuts his eyes firmly, as if blocking out the world. “Is anyone ok?” His response is another question. Before she can say anything, he continues, “He said he needed a moment. The kind of decisions he needs to make, he’s probably going to need a bit more than that.”
~*~
Adam has been hugging the tree as if it is his last line to safety in storm-tossed waters and in a way it’s true, except the waters are the pathways of his mind. The truth is ruthless and he has had to face more of it than he ever wanted. He bangs his palm against the rough scratchy bark.
“Damn.”
It’s time to keep some promises he made to himself and that unsettles him. He tries to breathe slowly, the thought of going back inside making him claustrophobic. Air in, air out, that decided he comes back to truth again. Someone else is in need of a bit of it and Adam hopes that it won’t hurt so much if he does it gently. One final gulp of the fresh breeze and he woodenly walks back inside. A brief glance tells him that Tommy is still in the bathroom and he carefully slips around the room so the others won’t see him.
He pushes the door open with an uncontrollable slam of his knuckles against the hard wood. Tommy is arranged loosely on the floor, back to the counter and he is slowly banging the back of his head against it. Thump. Thump. Adam lunges out and fits his hand between Tommy’s breakable head and the unfeeling surface he seems to want to abuse.
“What’d you do that for?” Tommy asks gruffly. Adam’s presence is a surprise and not a particularly welcome one. He just wants to be alone, but first Billy and now Adam disturb his solitude.
“Well I know you’re thickheaded and hardheaded, but even you can only take so many hits,” Adam replies smiling, while trying to calm his inner tremors. The edges of Tommy’s mouth curl up slightly and he leans forward to loosely wrap his arms around his knees.
“Not gonna ask if you’re ok,” Adam states calmly and Tommy flashes a smile of thanks. “I know you’re not ok and we’re not ok and nothing is really ok. Not why I’m in here, anyway.” He rubs his neck, the muscles beginning to clench to a hardness that he rarely experiences.
“Why are you here?” Tommy sounds petulant. He interlaces his fingers and taps the ends of them on the top of his hands. Adam exhales forcefully as he gracefully sinks next to him and folds his legs into a lotus position.
“I have a few things to say to you and you may not like them,” Adam almost whispers. Tommy jerks around and faces his friend, a question on his lips that he never gets a chance to ask as Adam continues. “Here’s the deal.” Adam’s voice gains force from the guilt frothing up to his constricting throat. “We all screwed up royally with Kim.”
Tommy stiffens, his face freezing at the sound of her name. “Look I get it, I gotta make up my mind and tell her,” he grumbles, tugging his sticky shirt, “Billy already enlightened me.”
Adam shakes his head forcefully, memories of his heart-to-heart with the tiny girl tumbling before his eyes. “You get nothing,” his voice is raspy, “This isn’t about that. We owed Kim something, and when we didn’t bother to find out what was going on when her letter was obviously completely uncharacteristic of her usual behavior, we messed that up like never before.” A chill sweeps through Tommy’s skin and bumps rise up, more from fear than cold. “Kimberly was always the first one to catch on if something was wrong and try and help. Instead of repaying her for that, we left her to wallow in her anguish and guilt which she didn’t even deserve!”
Adam’s voice jumps to a shout and Tommy draws back at this unusual sight. The toned, exotic Black Ranger lunges to his feet and begins to pace, agitated with the situation as well as with his friend’s refusal to see the truth.
“You were her boyfriend and you didn’t see sense that something was wrong? You didn’t have an urge to teleport to Florida immediately and find out what happened? How could you not? How could we not?”
The words pound into Tommy’s skull and a dull ache starts up in the pit of his stomach, corresponding to the one in his head. Adam stands still, pausing his tirade as he tries to catch his breath. He spins around and leans his forehead against the cool metal door.
“I really did mess up,” Tommy gasps, “again.”
Adam turns back around and looks down on his huddled form with a detached sort of compassion. He nods anyway, condemning Tommy, as well as himself, for their unintentional sins. Adam sinks down, sliding against the door and drops his face into his hands, the whirling pain touching every bit of him.
“Damn, damn, damn.” The single curse has become a litany for the confused victim of Eros. A few more repetitions and Tommy’s head shoots up. “What does it matter anyway? Kim and I are over.”
The assertion sounds more like a question and Adam smiles ruefully. “Keep telling yourself that, flyboy.” Quick fingers snake through short black hair and a sigh reverberates through the room. “I hope that’s a lot of comfort if she doesn’t come back and you never get to tell her… anything.” Adam allows the chill that comes with these words to flow through his bones as he expected it to and carefully observes Tommy’s reaction. Long strands of hair swing as Tommy’s head bounces back against the counter, again, and his eyes fill with emotions that are obvious to Adam but undoubtedly leave him in a state of confusion.
“She loves you.” These three words explode like a bomb in the silence. Tommy’s world is now reduced to hearing them over and over, and they are the sweetest music and the greatest rebuke.
“No!” The cry rips out of Tommy’s mouth, his lips twisting with the effort, and the denial costs him more than anything had ever before. More, even, than being Rita’s plaything.
Adam chuckles bitterly. “How dense can you be, really? She loves you. She gave us all up out of fear and do you really think that anything changed in her heart? Fool.” He leans over and taps Tommy’s chest briefly. “She loves you.”
An automatic denial springs to his lips when it dies in favor of something different. “What’s your angle, man? Do you just want to hurt Kat? Or maybe you want her for yourself, huh?”
Pain shoots through his temples and Adam pales, his skin turning ashen. The shaken young man inhales slowly, attempting to control his shaking limbs as well as prevent himself from striking his companion. “Yes,” he admits honestly, “I have feelings for Kat, but this isn’t about that. This is about my failed obligations towards Kimberly.” He stands up looking down at the frozen White Ranger with anger mixed with pity. “You really ought to look into your heart and figure out whether you still love Kim, and I think you do, before you do some more things you will regret and hurt more people that you profess to care about.” Adam rotates around on his heel and pushes at the door. “Goodbye, Thomas Sean Oliver.” The slam has a ring of finality to it.
Tommy is still, staring at the spot that Adam just vacated. All of Adam’s assertions swim through his consciousness, accompanied by millions of images of Kim… in the park, in school, in battle, in the Youth Center, in the Command Center… ‘She loves you… She loves you… She loves you…’ Tommy twists into a pathetic ball, his knees tucked into his stomach and one question is left beating at his heart. ‘Do I love Kimberly Ann Hart? Do I love Kimberly? Do I love Kim? I love Kim… I love Kim. I love Kim!’
~*~
6:59 PM
Command Center
Zordon relaxes, enjoying not having to generate a semi-corporeal face for the Rangers. It’s not a big effort, but, for someone who has been stuck in pure energy form in a time warp for a few millennia, it tends to get irksome. His mind wanders to the thought of his spiritual daughters on their Quest. Concern permeates his being and, not for the first time, he wishes that he could extend his consciousness out of the warp.
In his youth he once tried to morph into pure energy form and found that his awareness could stretch across the galaxies. The time warp prevents that now. He sighs.
Alpha kneels down to open a panel at the bottom of the tube and fingers the wiring carefully. “Zordon, we may have to replace some of these.” His metallic head tilts to one side as he attempts to calculate just how worn the electric strips are.
‘Great! More time without communication. Like a millennium wasn’t enough…’ Zordon asks, “HOW LONG WILL YOU HAVE TO SHUT DOWN THE TUBE FOR?” His voice is grave and laced with worry that the Rangers will be unable to come to him for advice and will have no one else.
Alpha recognizes the twin fears and shakes his head. “Just a few hours.”
“DO IT NOW SO THAT IT WILL BE FUNCTIONAL WHEN I AM NEEDED,” Zordon commands and, when Alpha obeys, finds himself locked completely in his ages old prison. The colors swirl around him and all he can do is remember…
A sudden image of Mirati pops up, with a metallic star in hand. She is laughing as she throws it carelessly, her wrist snapping, and hits the target dead on. He smiles. Their parents are a few feet away from him, proudly watching her perform in the Mentors’ competition. Mirati’s student is a few feet away, in her customary bikini and loin-skirt. Dulcea. His good friend Dulcea.
Ninjor stalks across the field, too high in rank to participate. His helmet is off and under his arm and his smile is easy and charming. Zordon waves the memory away, the bittersweet tang of it currently unbearable.
Another memory comes unbidden. He is standing in the courtyard of the Alari royal palace. His metallic but very flexible armor covers him from neck to knees. He has on reinforced alarium boots and his domed helmet is resting on a raised wall. Someone taps on his shoulder and he turns around. Dulcea is standing there, her eyes ringed with dark circles and her nose red with crying. She is leaning on her staff like she always does and is trying to smile at him. She fails and he draws her into a hug.
“Be careful,” she whispers into his ear and tears away from his embrace. She looks at him sorrowfully for a moment and then breaks into a run, back into the palace, back to the craft that has to take her off-world in accordance with Mirati’s instructions. He shakes his head and snaps on his helmet, ready to go to war.
Zordon replays this memory several times until the ache low in his non-corporeal stomach becomes unbearable. A silent, bitter chuckle sounds in the confines of his mind as he shakes off the image and focuses on calculating how much longer he will have no connection to the outside world and his Rangers.
~*~
9:07 PM
Angel Grove Airport
Capable hands latch onto the handle of an old, tattered duffle bag. It is swung onto an equally capable back. The person heads out into the waiting hall confidently and turns to the east exit. A few quick steps and California smog hits a nose that has missed it for a while. Two fingers go up and a taxi stops with a screech. The door gets yanked open, bag thrown inside, and the person climbs in quickly. “Angel Grove Park, please.”
~*~
9:31 PM
Lakeside Café
Tommy is clinking his fork against the smooth surface of the table. He only came out of the bathroom a few minutes ago yet his face is already showing signs of increased agitation and he glares over at Rocky who is the last one still eating. Rocky notices and shovels in the last bit of pecan pie a la mode.
“Done,” he remarks, the dessert still in his mouth. Tommy flashes an apologetic look and reaches for his wallet.
Aisha grabs his arm swiftly, pressing her fingers into his skin. “Let someone else pay, please, for once.”
Tommy shakes off her hand and mutters, “I am the leader, let me lead for once.” He tugs out his white leather wallet and counts out five twenties, casually dropping them on the table.
Aisha spins around on her heel, shooting Tommy a
disgusted look, and strides to the door, flashing a smile at the waitress. The guys are almost afraid to follow her,
well aware of her thinly stretched temper.
Billy smiles tiredly, remembering his other female teammates who all
seem to have a dangerous temper when provoked.
Kim’s face is pulled from his memory - she is more than hazardous when
crossed. Jason is afraid of a pissed
Kim! Kat’s anger is no joke
either. No one is worse than Trini
though. She is usually as calm as a
Shaolin priest and it is almost impossible to set her off, but if the almost
impossible occurs, ‘volcano Trini’ blows with a ferocity no one can hope to
match. He smirks and closes the door
with one flick of his wrist, the last one out.
The group strides along the street, heedless of its surroundings. The beautifully kept-up neighborhood holds no interest for any of them. On a normal day, it is too familiar to matter; today it is eclipsed by their dark thoughts. They aren’t going anywhere in particular, just where their feet take them.
A few feet away, a taxi pulls up to the curb abruptly and a door pops open. A boot clad foot sets firmly onto the ground and the body it is attached to follows, the familiar duffel bag gripped tightly in one hand. The door slams closed and the figure wanders off, confident in getting to the required destination without conscious effort.
Aisha traces the cracks on the pavement with her gaze and sticks her hands into her back pockets to avoid punching something. Suddenly she feels her shoulder come into a jarring contact with someone. She jolts, preparing to defend herself from any attack when she finds herself in a pair of warm, comforting arms. Her head shoots up automatically and her mouth slowly opens. “Oh my god!”