Seven Steps from Humanity- Chapter 7
Author: dream-edge
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Part Two: The Pack Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Guess what? The post thing likes me now. No idea why. It just does.
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 4
The Ranger technology had been designed in a series of three. First had come Red, Blue, and Yellow; then Black and Green; finally, Silver and Gold. Because of that, the tech of Black and Green complemented each other. It was built for partners.
Right now they had a Black; they were just short a Green.
Dr K had kept the files of the original thirteen candidates. She went through them now, re-examining the profiles of people she'd half-forgotten. Going over them now, a year later, proved one thing; she'd made the right choice in her original three Rangers. Having seen them grow into each other this past year, she knew that none of the others could have possibly given her the same results. (Admittedly, the twins' Mating to Flynn might have influenced her opinion.)
Now, she had to find someone who'd she'd basically marked as second-rate to a Human. Even more, she had to find one that would work with Kane, who felt like VENJIX. She doubted those few who would put up with Flynn would do so.
A knock drew her from the file of a Sprite. She lifted her head, ignoring the twig her neck gave from having been bent over for so long, to see Marcus standing in the doorway of her lab. He was still wearing his ABUs, hands tucked into his pockets; there was a smudge of grease on one cheek, probably obtained from working in the hanger, she doubted he noticed. Marcus had too many responsibilities in the city; in addition to working as 2IC (which was a full-time job itself), he also worked as a military adviser to the Rangers (which even Mason admitted was redundant with Scott on the team, but was protocol with Scott no longer training with the military), and helped out the few remaining Air Force pilots when they required it. Marcus was stretched thin at the best of times, not that he complained. "Good afternoon, K." He greeted, smiling slightly. "Father sent me."
"Of course he has." She said with an irritated sigh and closed the file. "Has he forgotten how to use the phone again?"
"Perhaps he doesn't wish to challenge your wit again. Or maybe I'm just here to spy."
"Isn't that what you always do?"
"So cruel Doc." Marcus said with the boyish smile Scott had obviously learned from him. She scowled at him; she had told him not to call her Doc. "Well, I'm here, no matter the reason. Anything you need?"
"A second opinion." She said without hesitation, because Marcus was a surprisingly good strategist; perhaps because he had spent so much time running interference between his father and brother. "We need a Ranger Green."
Marcus arched an eyebrow but approached her desk, eyeing the stacked files. "I remember Stochem being one of father's top picks." He said, brow drawing together.
"The Lord of the Woods?" she asked. Marcus nodded. "He pulled his candidacy after we announced our Blue Ranger."
Marcus sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "The military leader is Human. I really don't see what the big problem is about Flynn."
"Like you said, the military leader. Mason was vetted long before the war and already had the respect of his men before he gained command, same with you. Flynn doesn't even have any military training."
Marcus frowned and picked up one of the files, flipping through it with half an eye. "Where is everyone? This place is like a ghost town."
"Summer and Scott are working in the garden." She said calmly. Marcus looked briefly surprised then amused. "I believe Flynn and the twins have gone shopping. You just missed Kane."
Marcus's eyes shot up to her. "Just missed him? He left the Garage?"
Dr K raised one eyebrow slowly. "I was unaware we were keeping him under house arrest."
"Do you really think letting a man who feels like VENJIX wander the city without escort is a good idea? There'll be panic."
"He's wearing the uniform and morpher. Since the Ranger energy doesn't affect psychic scent, that's all the markings the others have as well. I don't see what him having an escort will do. Besides, Grover came over. Kane's escorting him home. Would you like to tell him he can't?"
Marcus frowned again. "How's he doing anyway? Fitting in alright?"
"Fine. He and your brother get along surprisingly well. Even the twins have adjusted to his presence." It was true. Scott and Kane had a quiet respect for each other that was allowing two alpha personalities to work together. Which was good, if odd; she had expected Kane to bulk against Truman's leadership, had been prepared for challenges and fights. Instead, Kane had settled into the team with nothing more than a few sarcastic comments. Even the twins had adjusted unexpectedly fast. Adjusted, because he wasn't Pack yet, wasn't fully trusted. But they no longer watched his every move, no longer went tense when he talked to Flynn. Which was more than she'd thought to ask of them after only three days.
"That's good. Father will be pleased." Marcus paused briefly. "Though I doubt anyone here cares."
She made a slight sound of amusement, because they did sometimes give off the air of not caring what Mason thought; Kane probably honestly didn't. They did listen though, tried not to piss him off too much.
"We're working on it."
-0-0-
"I'm impressed." Ziggy said, eyeing him critically. He was walking backwards down the sidewalk, somehow managing to weave his way through the dozens of people effortlessly. Dillon watched him with an amused eye, beyond wondering how Ziggy did half the things he did (he'd stopped somewhere between jail and the Rangers informing him Ziggy was a Half-breed, because thinking about Ziggy's biology hurt his head too much). Ziggy was looking over the black jacket he'd gained, the Rangers' "uniform". Dillon was just glad it wasn't neon, because he knew that if anyone could make black seem neon, it would the Rangers. "It suits you." Ziggy finally said after a moment of consideration, eyes gleaming. "They're not beating you up are they?" he asked with wicked amusement.
"The Doc's running me into the ground." He said honestly. Ziggy laughed and spun around so he was walking normally, dropping back so they brushed shoulders slightly. The nearness sent Ziggy's psychic scent crashing around him, rich and dark and more addictive than the best drug. He struggled not to lean into it, to wrap himself in that scent completely. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "She believes that myth. You know, the one that says Berserkers can use every weapon from instinct."
Ziggy's eyebrows drew together. "Isn't she supposed to be smart?" he asked. Ziggy looked up at him for a moment; then his eyes slid past, over his shoulder to look behind them.
"I'm hoping she just wanted to see where the myth started." He said, frowning slightly at the strange behavior. It wasn't the first time Ziggy had done it. Dillon was beginning to think the reason he'd started to walk backwards was so that he could have a clear view of behind them.
"Isn't it that Berserkers just know how to use everything as a weapon?" Ziggy asked, eyes snapping back to his. Dillon nodded.
"You sure you didn't know a Berserker before me? You know an awful lot about us."
"Maybe I just looked you up." Ziggy said with a teasing smile. Dillon snorted and purposely leaned over to knock shoulders with Ziggy.
"Did you know that myth about Dea al Mon having claws is true?"
"You saw those?" Ziggy asked, eyes going wide. He nodded. "Wow. You're still alive. The only ones who see them tend to be the wrong end of them."
"You knew about them." Dillon pointed out. Ziggy shrugged carelessly, like he didn't sometimes register as a Dea al Mon. The other Rangers thought Ziggy was a full Demon; Dillon knew better, knew Ziggy just rested closer to his demon kind bloodline than the Dea al Mon. Not that he was telling the others that. Dillon didn't think they'd take the idea of an unregistered Deal al Mon wandering the city very well; an unknown demon kind, maybe, but not a Dea al Mon.
Dillon pressed his lips together as they turned a corner, Ziggy using the movement to glance back the way they'd come. A slow, creeping chill spread through him as he realized what Ziggy was doing. "Who do I have to kill?" he asked too softly, making Ziggy look over at him again.
"What?" Ziggy asked, eyes just a bit too wide for his confusion and naivety to be real.
"Someone's following you. Or at least, you think someone's following you. You keep looking over your shoulder."
"Oh." Ziggy breathed, his surprise real this time. "I didn't think you'd noticed that."
"I always notice." Ziggy's smile was a slow developing thing in response, small and almost shy and he looked like he had at the diner, like someone had smacked him with something unexpected and amazing. Dillon thought it was a good look for him. "Are you sure we should be heading back to your apartment?"
"There's no one actually following us now." Ziggy assured. "I'm not that stupid."
"Of course you're not." Dillon agreed, then continued with sudden realization. "That's why you came to the Garage. You thought showing you knew the Rangers would scare them off."
"Well," Ziggy admitted, "It seems to have worked. And you did say I could stop by if I needed anything."
Dillon smiled despite himself. "Fine." He agreed. "You've got a point."
Ziggy's smile turned the slightest bit smug. They didn't talk for the rest of the walk. Their arms brushed as they moved, heat soaked through the leather. Ziggy kept glancing over his shoulder every few feet; Dillon did his best to ignore it, tried to keep his shoulders from tensing for a fight. But despite that, it was a peaceful walk.
Ziggy lived on the third floor of an apartment complex. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, Dillon observed as they walked through the lobby. "Do you want to come up?" Ziggy asked, looking over at him as he started up the stairs.
Dillon blinked in surprise. "Can I?" he asked. Predators were territorial at the best of times. Being invited into a Predator's house was a sign of immense trust. It was more than he'd expected from Ziggy, who he was beginning to think was rather bad at the whole trust thing. Ziggy shrugged. "Sure. It's not a problem."
Dillon followed obediently. All the doors were the same; there wasn't anything about Ziggy's that seemed different. But when he opened it, Ziggy said over his shoulder, "Come in and be welcome."
Dillon paused just inside the apartment when the formal phrasing sunk in, turning to look at Ziggy in confusion. He knew that phrase, had heard it before. It was a Witch's phrase. When he turned around, he saw it; the familiar blue marks withering across the woodwork of the doorframe. "You've had the place warded." He said in surprise and amazement.
Ziggy shrugged again. "A witch owed me a favor." He said calmly, as if it was some small thing. Wards required not only a great amount of power, but required several years of training to master.
"Must have been some favor." He replied.
"I'm very good at what I do."
"And what exactly do you do?"
Ziggy smiled as he walked towards Dillon, right into his personal space, maybe an inch of air between them. Ziggy looked up at him from beneath the fringe of his hair, all sly amusement and rich brown eyes. Dillon thought he'd be willing to do just about anything Ziggy asked of him if Ziggy looked at him like that. "Oh Dillon." Ziggy breathed, close enough that Dillon could feel the tiny puff of his breath. "Where is the fun in just telling you?"
Dillon raised his eyes to the ceiling as Ziggy walked away, swallowing thickly. He gave himself a few seconds to just breathe, to let himself forget the small waves of heat Ziggy had given off, before he followed Ziggy.
The whole apartment smelt like Ziggy. There wasn't a single other scent in the whole apartment to dampen it. He leaned against the wall near the kitchen, closed his eyes, and just breathed for a moment, letting the scent settle around him. It was… actually more soothing than he'd thought. Whenever he was with Ziggy, his psychic scent teased at him, tried to draw him in. He hadn't realized that the sexuality Ziggy emitted like second nature had influenced his perception of his psychic scent.
"Beer?" Ziggy called from the kitchen. He opened his eyes again and glanced towards him. The kitchen was definitely the nicest part of the house, well-taken care of and nearly spotless. There were cooking machines across the counter that he didn't have a clue what they did.
"Sure." He agreed as he moved towards one of the counter chairs, glad now he hadn't driven them here (Not that he could have anyway; Flynn was still fixing all the damage caused by the Waste sand). Ziggy seemed looser here, a tension he hadn't noticed before draining from his shoulders. Dillon couldn't stop the slight smile that slipped across his face when he noticed.
Ziggy handed him a bottle before hopping up on the counter in front of him. He crossed his legs, easily popped the cap off, and took a large swing of the beer. "What are you going to do now?" Dillon asked in curiosity.
"I'm actually in the process of looking for an old friend. He helped me escape the city. I wanted to make sure he was okay, but I can't find him." Ziggy looked over at him with a slight smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up."
"Definitely." He agreed. Ziggy's smile seemed to widen at the reassurance and he straightened slightly, fingers starting to dance across the bottle neck. Dillon couldn't help but follow the movement with his eyes, watching those long fingers catch little beads of perspiration. He shifted awkwardly, trying to fight off the imagery the sight conjured, because once it was in his head he knew he'd never be able to get it out. Ziggy had to be doing that on purpose. Dillon didn't even want to contemplate the idea that this blatant sexuality and teasing was subconscious, that Ziggy did it completely without thinking.
He pulled his attention back upwards. Ziggy's eyes looked paler than usual, more of a toffee color than chocolate; his scent had shifted as well, the darkness growing, firming up just enough to tease him with a hint of what the younger man was. Dillon couldn't pin it down completely, but it bothered him. It felt like he had all the pieces but wasn't seeing the whole picture, a very obvious picture. "You okay there, Dillon?" Ziggy asked, seeming amused. Oh yeah, he knew what he was doing.
He was struck then with the urge to do something wild and reckless, something Ziggy's knowing eyes didn't expect. Like maybe kiss him. But that was a dangerous road of thinking. Dillon was pretty sure that if he started kissing Ziggy, he wouldn't stop. "I need to be going." He said instead.
He didn't move though, and Ziggy's smile was invitation enough to stay for a while more.
-0-0-
When Dillon finally returned, Scott was in the kitchen washing his hands, digging dirt out from under his fingernails. Dillon eyed the empty plant pots on the counter, the wet soil on Scott's knees, and the half ajar door leading outside, and thought back to Summer saying that morning that she wanted to add on to the garden. The first, obvious conclusion was that Scott had helped. Except there was no way a Witch would let someone not family touch their garden, even if Ziggy thought they were close enough to be Mated. "You weren't working in the garden were you?" he asked skeptically.
Scott jerked, startled, and spun to face him. "No sneaking up on people. It's a rule." He said automatically then paused and frowned. A slow blush spread up his neck. "What?"
"You were working in the garden. Summer let you work in the garden?"
Scott's blush darkened. "What about it?"
"You've got it bad."
Scott scowled at him as Summer entered with the watering can and hoes, kicking the door shut behind her. "Welcome back Dillon." She greeted cheerfully as she dumped her tools in the sink for later cleaning. Her hair had been pulled into a sloppy bun, her hands were stained brown with soil, and there was a smudge of dirt over her left eyebrow. It was so classically Witch he couldn't help but be amused. "How's Ziggy? He seemed a bit nervous before." She asked as she snagged a towel, rubbing at the dark stains on her fingers.
"He's fine."
"That's good." She said. Then she paused as if waiting for something. When nothing immediately happened, Summer turned and jabbed her finger into Scott's ribs. The Vampire yelped and jumped away, glaring at her irritably. When Summer merely stared back, Scott turned towards him, one hand rubbing at his abused ribs.
"You know," he said, "If Grover's having any sort of trouble, he can stay here. We can work something out."
"I already offered." He said, watching a brief, annoyed look cross Scott's face. "He declined."
"Well, the offer's open." Summer said before Scott could open his mouth. Scott glared at her before sighing and tugging the towel out of her hands. "Oh, here." He said and starting wiping at the mark on her forehead. "Is it possible for you not to get covered in dirt?"
Summer's wide grin was answer enough.
"Hey!"
He turned at the call to see Flynn and the twins entering. Flynn was wearing his usual calm, laid back smile and was carrying a few plastic bags. The twins looked slightly disgruntled, but that was probably because Flynn had obviously won the argument to carry the bags. Flynn smiled and held up said plastic bags. "We stopped at Callie's for food."
Summer whooped and jumped around Scott, so she could hop towards them. "Flynn, you're amazing." She said gleefully, yanking the bags from Flynn and dancing back to the kitchen.
"Clean your hands first." Scott ordered before she could start digging through the boxes. Summer scowled at him but huffed and obediently moved to the sink, though she maintained an exaggerated pout the whole way. "Doc!" Scott shouted. "Food!"
"Neist lesson." Flynn told him calmly as the twins marshaled in plates. Flynn was good at telling him the little things that kept the Garage running, the things the others forgot because they were minor or had simply become routine. "K has a horrible work ethic. She will forge' to eat if someone's nae watchin' her. It's our job to make sure she does."
"Noted." He said, accepting the white box Gem handed him.
"We weren't sure what you liked." Gem said awkwardly as he opened it. "So we just got you a burger."
"Can't go wrong with a burger." Gemma piped in, ducking around her brother to steal a handful of Flynn's fries.
"Hey!" The Blue Ranger shouted, but didn't try to get them back. Gemma winked back at her Human as she stuffed a fry in her mouth. Dillon shook his head at their antics and sat down with his burger as the Doc entered.
"How'd it go?" Scott asked the Fae, handing her a salad.
K shrugged. "I have identified five candidates who would work well with Kane's fighting style."
Dillon looked up from his burger in confusion. "What?"
"The Black and Green Ranger tech was designed to work as partners. We need to find a Green."
"Lovely." He commented.
"I'm bringing them in tomorrow to see if any of them are willing to work with you." K said, ignoring his sarcasm. She was rather good at doing so; Dillon had realized the Rangers thrived on sarcasm. It was no wonder he fit in so well.
"I'll make plans to not be here." He said, earning himself a vehement glare. "Kidding." He held both hands up. "I'll be there. I might even be polite."
K rolled her eyes and grabbed her salad so she could scurry back to the lab.
"Dude." Scott said, turning to look at him. "You're going to fit right in."
-0-0-
He couldn't stand the candidates. They didn't much like him either in all fairness, didn't trust him. He couldn't see them getting on too well with the others either. It was strange and improbable, but the team meshed together amazingly well. They understood, and even respected, each other. They had a flow between them that Dillon had been able to easily adapt to. But the candidates seemed to clash with that flow, couldn't seem to fit. Dillon didn't think they ever would.
He drove through the city recklessly fast; glad Flynn had finished the repairs before he'd disappeared this morning. Apparently the twins didn't quite trust the candidates around their Mate due to an incident from last year. At least, that was how Summer had put it. The twins' distrust was just another black mark against the candidates in his book. So here he was, driving towards Ziggy's apartment because he was irritated and because Amara was right about his horrid penchant for hovering when he was worried. And he was worried about Ziggy; not that the younger man had done anything to ease that worry.
He parked and jogged quickly through the lobby and up the stairs. He glanced around the hallway in curiosity after he'd knocked, eyeing the woven mat in front of a door a ways down. He turned around when the door opened and froze when he caught sight of Ziggy. His smile gained an edge and the air turned too cold.
"Of all times for you to come, it would be now." Ziggy said tiredly, clutching at the door, the bruise on his cheek an ugly purple-black-blue, splashed across the left side of his face.
"Who did that?" he asked quietly, eyes pined on the bruise.
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." He crooned and reached forward to examine the bruise. The second his fingers slid past the doorway, the wards spun out in streaks of blue lightning, cracking at his fingertips warningly. He pulled his hand back immediately, strangling down his snarl because those things were supposed to be protecting Ziggy. "Let me in Ziggy." He said with a remarkable level of calm.
Ziggy watched him for a few seconds before stepping out of the way. "Come in and be welcome." He said.
Dillon closed the door behind him before carefully gripping Ziggy's chin and tilting his head to the side so he could better examine the bruise. "Who did this?" he asked again.
"They're already dead." Ziggy told him and the words warmed some of the Rage inside him.
"Did they suffer?"
"No."
"Too bad." He dropped his hand and watched Ziggy carefully. He finally noticed the hint of fear, of panic, hiding in Ziggy's eyes. "What happened?"
Ziggy's mouth opened to say something then slowly closed again. Ziggy's expression crumbled and he pressed a hand to his mouth to hold in a choked sob. Dillon's eyes widened when tears started to tumble out and Ziggy's shoulders shook. He stepped closer, laying a careful hand on Ziggy's shoulder. Ziggy shook his head quickly, shying away a little, taking a deep breath and seemed to gather himself. His hand dropped from his mouth and though his breath hitched warningly, he didn't cry again. "Benny, the uh… the friend I was looking for. He's dead."
"Shit." He said. Then again. "Shit. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. So am I." Ziggy said, and the words were quiet and practically a whimper. The shaking was starting to come back, he noticed.
"Why don't you sit down?" He advised and carefully grasped Ziggy's elbow, leading him to the living room. Ziggy all but collapsed onto the couch.
"I should have expected it." Ziggy breathed. "I don't know why I didn't."
"No one ever expects their friends to be dead." He said and squatted down in front of him.
Ziggy stared back for a second then asked, in a trembling voice. "Is that offer to move in still open?"
Dillon jerked, eyes going wide. That was the last thing he'd expected Ziggy to say. He was spooked worse than he thought. Ziggy was too independent to casually take that offer. "Of course it is." He said. "Summer even bullied Scott into making it an official offer." Ziggy nodded shakily. "What's wrong? This is more than your friend dying."
"It's not just the Scorpion Cartel." Ziggy said. "I thought it was, but it's not. It's all of them. Stupid, I should have known after the prison." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't run from all of them."
Dillon leaned forward and placed a careful hand against Ziggy's chin. "Hey." He said, making Ziggy look up at him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." There was no denying the relief that flooded into Ziggy's eyes in response. "What did you do to piss that many people off?"
"Fresno Bob, the uh, the leader of the Scorpion Cartel, I uh… I was just so scared. I didn't think." Ziggy said, looking up at him. Despite the fear obvious in Ziggy's eyes, there was a tiny spark of pride there when he said, "I ripped his throat out."
"Go you." He said, which made Ziggy smile, just a little bit. "Go get your things. We'll go to the Garage."
As they left the apartment, Ziggy paused and looked at the door. There was a queer look in his eyes. "I don't have to get rid of it, do I?" he asked. And there it was, the instinctive territorialism most Predators felt about their homes. Honestly, as much Dillon liked to think Ziggy trusted him that much, he'd been beginning to wonder if Ziggy even felt it. His biology was screwed up enough that Ziggy might not.
"If you're going to come back to it, I don't see why you can't keep it." He replied, which was obviously the right thing to say from the way Ziggy's shoulders just relaxed. The ride back to the Garage was a short but quiet affair, Ziggy curled up in the passenger seat with his head pressed against the glass, legs tucked under him.
Scott approached him when they pulled in, but whatever he was going to say got choked up in his throat when Ziggy stepped out. Scott just stared at the younger man, taking in the red-rimmed eyes and the ugly bruise on one cheek. Finally, he pointed blindly upwards towards the bedrooms. "Third door in." he said.
Ziggy's eyes flickered up. Dillon watched him count the doors then come to the obvious conclusion. "Isn't that for a Ranger?"
"Don't have a Green. We'll figure something out when we do."
Ziggy looked back at them and, glancing between them, said empathically, "Thank you." Before he rushed up the stairs and hid himself in the room.
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Part Two: The Pack Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Guess what? The post thing likes me now. No idea why. It just does.
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 4
The Ranger technology had been designed in a series of three. First had come Red, Blue, and Yellow; then Black and Green; finally, Silver and Gold. Because of that, the tech of Black and Green complemented each other. It was built for partners.
Right now they had a Black; they were just short a Green.
Dr K had kept the files of the original thirteen candidates. She went through them now, re-examining the profiles of people she'd half-forgotten. Going over them now, a year later, proved one thing; she'd made the right choice in her original three Rangers. Having seen them grow into each other this past year, she knew that none of the others could have possibly given her the same results. (Admittedly, the twins' Mating to Flynn might have influenced her opinion.)
Now, she had to find someone who'd she'd basically marked as second-rate to a Human. Even more, she had to find one that would work with Kane, who felt like VENJIX. She doubted those few who would put up with Flynn would do so.
A knock drew her from the file of a Sprite. She lifted her head, ignoring the twig her neck gave from having been bent over for so long, to see Marcus standing in the doorway of her lab. He was still wearing his ABUs, hands tucked into his pockets; there was a smudge of grease on one cheek, probably obtained from working in the hanger, she doubted he noticed. Marcus had too many responsibilities in the city; in addition to working as 2IC (which was a full-time job itself), he also worked as a military adviser to the Rangers (which even Mason admitted was redundant with Scott on the team, but was protocol with Scott no longer training with the military), and helped out the few remaining Air Force pilots when they required it. Marcus was stretched thin at the best of times, not that he complained. "Good afternoon, K." He greeted, smiling slightly. "Father sent me."
"Of course he has." She said with an irritated sigh and closed the file. "Has he forgotten how to use the phone again?"
"Perhaps he doesn't wish to challenge your wit again. Or maybe I'm just here to spy."
"Isn't that what you always do?"
"So cruel Doc." Marcus said with the boyish smile Scott had obviously learned from him. She scowled at him; she had told him not to call her Doc. "Well, I'm here, no matter the reason. Anything you need?"
"A second opinion." She said without hesitation, because Marcus was a surprisingly good strategist; perhaps because he had spent so much time running interference between his father and brother. "We need a Ranger Green."
Marcus arched an eyebrow but approached her desk, eyeing the stacked files. "I remember Stochem being one of father's top picks." He said, brow drawing together.
"The Lord of the Woods?" she asked. Marcus nodded. "He pulled his candidacy after we announced our Blue Ranger."
Marcus sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "The military leader is Human. I really don't see what the big problem is about Flynn."
"Like you said, the military leader. Mason was vetted long before the war and already had the respect of his men before he gained command, same with you. Flynn doesn't even have any military training."
Marcus frowned and picked up one of the files, flipping through it with half an eye. "Where is everyone? This place is like a ghost town."
"Summer and Scott are working in the garden." She said calmly. Marcus looked briefly surprised then amused. "I believe Flynn and the twins have gone shopping. You just missed Kane."
Marcus's eyes shot up to her. "Just missed him? He left the Garage?"
Dr K raised one eyebrow slowly. "I was unaware we were keeping him under house arrest."
"Do you really think letting a man who feels like VENJIX wander the city without escort is a good idea? There'll be panic."
"He's wearing the uniform and morpher. Since the Ranger energy doesn't affect psychic scent, that's all the markings the others have as well. I don't see what him having an escort will do. Besides, Grover came over. Kane's escorting him home. Would you like to tell him he can't?"
Marcus frowned again. "How's he doing anyway? Fitting in alright?"
"Fine. He and your brother get along surprisingly well. Even the twins have adjusted to his presence." It was true. Scott and Kane had a quiet respect for each other that was allowing two alpha personalities to work together. Which was good, if odd; she had expected Kane to bulk against Truman's leadership, had been prepared for challenges and fights. Instead, Kane had settled into the team with nothing more than a few sarcastic comments. Even the twins had adjusted unexpectedly fast. Adjusted, because he wasn't Pack yet, wasn't fully trusted. But they no longer watched his every move, no longer went tense when he talked to Flynn. Which was more than she'd thought to ask of them after only three days.
"That's good. Father will be pleased." Marcus paused briefly. "Though I doubt anyone here cares."
She made a slight sound of amusement, because they did sometimes give off the air of not caring what Mason thought; Kane probably honestly didn't. They did listen though, tried not to piss him off too much.
"We're working on it."
-0-0-
"I'm impressed." Ziggy said, eyeing him critically. He was walking backwards down the sidewalk, somehow managing to weave his way through the dozens of people effortlessly. Dillon watched him with an amused eye, beyond wondering how Ziggy did half the things he did (he'd stopped somewhere between jail and the Rangers informing him Ziggy was a Half-breed, because thinking about Ziggy's biology hurt his head too much). Ziggy was looking over the black jacket he'd gained, the Rangers' "uniform". Dillon was just glad it wasn't neon, because he knew that if anyone could make black seem neon, it would the Rangers. "It suits you." Ziggy finally said after a moment of consideration, eyes gleaming. "They're not beating you up are they?" he asked with wicked amusement.
"The Doc's running me into the ground." He said honestly. Ziggy laughed and spun around so he was walking normally, dropping back so they brushed shoulders slightly. The nearness sent Ziggy's psychic scent crashing around him, rich and dark and more addictive than the best drug. He struggled not to lean into it, to wrap himself in that scent completely. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "She believes that myth. You know, the one that says Berserkers can use every weapon from instinct."
Ziggy's eyebrows drew together. "Isn't she supposed to be smart?" he asked. Ziggy looked up at him for a moment; then his eyes slid past, over his shoulder to look behind them.
"I'm hoping she just wanted to see where the myth started." He said, frowning slightly at the strange behavior. It wasn't the first time Ziggy had done it. Dillon was beginning to think the reason he'd started to walk backwards was so that he could have a clear view of behind them.
"Isn't it that Berserkers just know how to use everything as a weapon?" Ziggy asked, eyes snapping back to his. Dillon nodded.
"You sure you didn't know a Berserker before me? You know an awful lot about us."
"Maybe I just looked you up." Ziggy said with a teasing smile. Dillon snorted and purposely leaned over to knock shoulders with Ziggy.
"Did you know that myth about Dea al Mon having claws is true?"
"You saw those?" Ziggy asked, eyes going wide. He nodded. "Wow. You're still alive. The only ones who see them tend to be the wrong end of them."
"You knew about them." Dillon pointed out. Ziggy shrugged carelessly, like he didn't sometimes register as a Dea al Mon. The other Rangers thought Ziggy was a full Demon; Dillon knew better, knew Ziggy just rested closer to his demon kind bloodline than the Dea al Mon. Not that he was telling the others that. Dillon didn't think they'd take the idea of an unregistered Deal al Mon wandering the city very well; an unknown demon kind, maybe, but not a Dea al Mon.
Dillon pressed his lips together as they turned a corner, Ziggy using the movement to glance back the way they'd come. A slow, creeping chill spread through him as he realized what Ziggy was doing. "Who do I have to kill?" he asked too softly, making Ziggy look over at him again.
"What?" Ziggy asked, eyes just a bit too wide for his confusion and naivety to be real.
"Someone's following you. Or at least, you think someone's following you. You keep looking over your shoulder."
"Oh." Ziggy breathed, his surprise real this time. "I didn't think you'd noticed that."
"I always notice." Ziggy's smile was a slow developing thing in response, small and almost shy and he looked like he had at the diner, like someone had smacked him with something unexpected and amazing. Dillon thought it was a good look for him. "Are you sure we should be heading back to your apartment?"
"There's no one actually following us now." Ziggy assured. "I'm not that stupid."
"Of course you're not." Dillon agreed, then continued with sudden realization. "That's why you came to the Garage. You thought showing you knew the Rangers would scare them off."
"Well," Ziggy admitted, "It seems to have worked. And you did say I could stop by if I needed anything."
Dillon smiled despite himself. "Fine." He agreed. "You've got a point."
Ziggy's smile turned the slightest bit smug. They didn't talk for the rest of the walk. Their arms brushed as they moved, heat soaked through the leather. Ziggy kept glancing over his shoulder every few feet; Dillon did his best to ignore it, tried to keep his shoulders from tensing for a fight. But despite that, it was a peaceful walk.
Ziggy lived on the third floor of an apartment complex. It was much nicer than he'd thought it would be, Dillon observed as they walked through the lobby. "Do you want to come up?" Ziggy asked, looking over at him as he started up the stairs.
Dillon blinked in surprise. "Can I?" he asked. Predators were territorial at the best of times. Being invited into a Predator's house was a sign of immense trust. It was more than he'd expected from Ziggy, who he was beginning to think was rather bad at the whole trust thing. Ziggy shrugged. "Sure. It's not a problem."
Dillon followed obediently. All the doors were the same; there wasn't anything about Ziggy's that seemed different. But when he opened it, Ziggy said over his shoulder, "Come in and be welcome."
Dillon paused just inside the apartment when the formal phrasing sunk in, turning to look at Ziggy in confusion. He knew that phrase, had heard it before. It was a Witch's phrase. When he turned around, he saw it; the familiar blue marks withering across the woodwork of the doorframe. "You've had the place warded." He said in surprise and amazement.
Ziggy shrugged again. "A witch owed me a favor." He said calmly, as if it was some small thing. Wards required not only a great amount of power, but required several years of training to master.
"Must have been some favor." He replied.
"I'm very good at what I do."
"And what exactly do you do?"
Ziggy smiled as he walked towards Dillon, right into his personal space, maybe an inch of air between them. Ziggy looked up at him from beneath the fringe of his hair, all sly amusement and rich brown eyes. Dillon thought he'd be willing to do just about anything Ziggy asked of him if Ziggy looked at him like that. "Oh Dillon." Ziggy breathed, close enough that Dillon could feel the tiny puff of his breath. "Where is the fun in just telling you?"
Dillon raised his eyes to the ceiling as Ziggy walked away, swallowing thickly. He gave himself a few seconds to just breathe, to let himself forget the small waves of heat Ziggy had given off, before he followed Ziggy.
The whole apartment smelt like Ziggy. There wasn't a single other scent in the whole apartment to dampen it. He leaned against the wall near the kitchen, closed his eyes, and just breathed for a moment, letting the scent settle around him. It was… actually more soothing than he'd thought. Whenever he was with Ziggy, his psychic scent teased at him, tried to draw him in. He hadn't realized that the sexuality Ziggy emitted like second nature had influenced his perception of his psychic scent.
"Beer?" Ziggy called from the kitchen. He opened his eyes again and glanced towards him. The kitchen was definitely the nicest part of the house, well-taken care of and nearly spotless. There were cooking machines across the counter that he didn't have a clue what they did.
"Sure." He agreed as he moved towards one of the counter chairs, glad now he hadn't driven them here (Not that he could have anyway; Flynn was still fixing all the damage caused by the Waste sand). Ziggy seemed looser here, a tension he hadn't noticed before draining from his shoulders. Dillon couldn't stop the slight smile that slipped across his face when he noticed.
Ziggy handed him a bottle before hopping up on the counter in front of him. He crossed his legs, easily popped the cap off, and took a large swing of the beer. "What are you going to do now?" Dillon asked in curiosity.
"I'm actually in the process of looking for an old friend. He helped me escape the city. I wanted to make sure he was okay, but I can't find him." Ziggy looked over at him with a slight smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up."
"Definitely." He agreed. Ziggy's smile seemed to widen at the reassurance and he straightened slightly, fingers starting to dance across the bottle neck. Dillon couldn't help but follow the movement with his eyes, watching those long fingers catch little beads of perspiration. He shifted awkwardly, trying to fight off the imagery the sight conjured, because once it was in his head he knew he'd never be able to get it out. Ziggy had to be doing that on purpose. Dillon didn't even want to contemplate the idea that this blatant sexuality and teasing was subconscious, that Ziggy did it completely without thinking.
He pulled his attention back upwards. Ziggy's eyes looked paler than usual, more of a toffee color than chocolate; his scent had shifted as well, the darkness growing, firming up just enough to tease him with a hint of what the younger man was. Dillon couldn't pin it down completely, but it bothered him. It felt like he had all the pieces but wasn't seeing the whole picture, a very obvious picture. "You okay there, Dillon?" Ziggy asked, seeming amused. Oh yeah, he knew what he was doing.
He was struck then with the urge to do something wild and reckless, something Ziggy's knowing eyes didn't expect. Like maybe kiss him. But that was a dangerous road of thinking. Dillon was pretty sure that if he started kissing Ziggy, he wouldn't stop. "I need to be going." He said instead.
He didn't move though, and Ziggy's smile was invitation enough to stay for a while more.
-0-0-
When Dillon finally returned, Scott was in the kitchen washing his hands, digging dirt out from under his fingernails. Dillon eyed the empty plant pots on the counter, the wet soil on Scott's knees, and the half ajar door leading outside, and thought back to Summer saying that morning that she wanted to add on to the garden. The first, obvious conclusion was that Scott had helped. Except there was no way a Witch would let someone not family touch their garden, even if Ziggy thought they were close enough to be Mated. "You weren't working in the garden were you?" he asked skeptically.
Scott jerked, startled, and spun to face him. "No sneaking up on people. It's a rule." He said automatically then paused and frowned. A slow blush spread up his neck. "What?"
"You were working in the garden. Summer let you work in the garden?"
Scott's blush darkened. "What about it?"
"You've got it bad."
Scott scowled at him as Summer entered with the watering can and hoes, kicking the door shut behind her. "Welcome back Dillon." She greeted cheerfully as she dumped her tools in the sink for later cleaning. Her hair had been pulled into a sloppy bun, her hands were stained brown with soil, and there was a smudge of dirt over her left eyebrow. It was so classically Witch he couldn't help but be amused. "How's Ziggy? He seemed a bit nervous before." She asked as she snagged a towel, rubbing at the dark stains on her fingers.
"He's fine."
"That's good." She said. Then she paused as if waiting for something. When nothing immediately happened, Summer turned and jabbed her finger into Scott's ribs. The Vampire yelped and jumped away, glaring at her irritably. When Summer merely stared back, Scott turned towards him, one hand rubbing at his abused ribs.
"You know," he said, "If Grover's having any sort of trouble, he can stay here. We can work something out."
"I already offered." He said, watching a brief, annoyed look cross Scott's face. "He declined."
"Well, the offer's open." Summer said before Scott could open his mouth. Scott glared at her before sighing and tugging the towel out of her hands. "Oh, here." He said and starting wiping at the mark on her forehead. "Is it possible for you not to get covered in dirt?"
Summer's wide grin was answer enough.
"Hey!"
He turned at the call to see Flynn and the twins entering. Flynn was wearing his usual calm, laid back smile and was carrying a few plastic bags. The twins looked slightly disgruntled, but that was probably because Flynn had obviously won the argument to carry the bags. Flynn smiled and held up said plastic bags. "We stopped at Callie's for food."
Summer whooped and jumped around Scott, so she could hop towards them. "Flynn, you're amazing." She said gleefully, yanking the bags from Flynn and dancing back to the kitchen.
"Clean your hands first." Scott ordered before she could start digging through the boxes. Summer scowled at him but huffed and obediently moved to the sink, though she maintained an exaggerated pout the whole way. "Doc!" Scott shouted. "Food!"
"Neist lesson." Flynn told him calmly as the twins marshaled in plates. Flynn was good at telling him the little things that kept the Garage running, the things the others forgot because they were minor or had simply become routine. "K has a horrible work ethic. She will forge' to eat if someone's nae watchin' her. It's our job to make sure she does."
"Noted." He said, accepting the white box Gem handed him.
"We weren't sure what you liked." Gem said awkwardly as he opened it. "So we just got you a burger."
"Can't go wrong with a burger." Gemma piped in, ducking around her brother to steal a handful of Flynn's fries.
"Hey!" The Blue Ranger shouted, but didn't try to get them back. Gemma winked back at her Human as she stuffed a fry in her mouth. Dillon shook his head at their antics and sat down with his burger as the Doc entered.
"How'd it go?" Scott asked the Fae, handing her a salad.
K shrugged. "I have identified five candidates who would work well with Kane's fighting style."
Dillon looked up from his burger in confusion. "What?"
"The Black and Green Ranger tech was designed to work as partners. We need to find a Green."
"Lovely." He commented.
"I'm bringing them in tomorrow to see if any of them are willing to work with you." K said, ignoring his sarcasm. She was rather good at doing so; Dillon had realized the Rangers thrived on sarcasm. It was no wonder he fit in so well.
"I'll make plans to not be here." He said, earning himself a vehement glare. "Kidding." He held both hands up. "I'll be there. I might even be polite."
K rolled her eyes and grabbed her salad so she could scurry back to the lab.
"Dude." Scott said, turning to look at him. "You're going to fit right in."
-0-0-
He couldn't stand the candidates. They didn't much like him either in all fairness, didn't trust him. He couldn't see them getting on too well with the others either. It was strange and improbable, but the team meshed together amazingly well. They understood, and even respected, each other. They had a flow between them that Dillon had been able to easily adapt to. But the candidates seemed to clash with that flow, couldn't seem to fit. Dillon didn't think they ever would.
He drove through the city recklessly fast; glad Flynn had finished the repairs before he'd disappeared this morning. Apparently the twins didn't quite trust the candidates around their Mate due to an incident from last year. At least, that was how Summer had put it. The twins' distrust was just another black mark against the candidates in his book. So here he was, driving towards Ziggy's apartment because he was irritated and because Amara was right about his horrid penchant for hovering when he was worried. And he was worried about Ziggy; not that the younger man had done anything to ease that worry.
He parked and jogged quickly through the lobby and up the stairs. He glanced around the hallway in curiosity after he'd knocked, eyeing the woven mat in front of a door a ways down. He turned around when the door opened and froze when he caught sight of Ziggy. His smile gained an edge and the air turned too cold.
"Of all times for you to come, it would be now." Ziggy said tiredly, clutching at the door, the bruise on his cheek an ugly purple-black-blue, splashed across the left side of his face.
"Who did that?" he asked quietly, eyes pined on the bruise.
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." He crooned and reached forward to examine the bruise. The second his fingers slid past the doorway, the wards spun out in streaks of blue lightning, cracking at his fingertips warningly. He pulled his hand back immediately, strangling down his snarl because those things were supposed to be protecting Ziggy. "Let me in Ziggy." He said with a remarkable level of calm.
Ziggy watched him for a few seconds before stepping out of the way. "Come in and be welcome." He said.
Dillon closed the door behind him before carefully gripping Ziggy's chin and tilting his head to the side so he could better examine the bruise. "Who did this?" he asked again.
"They're already dead." Ziggy told him and the words warmed some of the Rage inside him.
"Did they suffer?"
"No."
"Too bad." He dropped his hand and watched Ziggy carefully. He finally noticed the hint of fear, of panic, hiding in Ziggy's eyes. "What happened?"
Ziggy's mouth opened to say something then slowly closed again. Ziggy's expression crumbled and he pressed a hand to his mouth to hold in a choked sob. Dillon's eyes widened when tears started to tumble out and Ziggy's shoulders shook. He stepped closer, laying a careful hand on Ziggy's shoulder. Ziggy shook his head quickly, shying away a little, taking a deep breath and seemed to gather himself. His hand dropped from his mouth and though his breath hitched warningly, he didn't cry again. "Benny, the uh… the friend I was looking for. He's dead."
"Shit." He said. Then again. "Shit. I'm sorry."
"Yeah. So am I." Ziggy said, and the words were quiet and practically a whimper. The shaking was starting to come back, he noticed.
"Why don't you sit down?" He advised and carefully grasped Ziggy's elbow, leading him to the living room. Ziggy all but collapsed onto the couch.
"I should have expected it." Ziggy breathed. "I don't know why I didn't."
"No one ever expects their friends to be dead." He said and squatted down in front of him.
Ziggy stared back for a second then asked, in a trembling voice. "Is that offer to move in still open?"
Dillon jerked, eyes going wide. That was the last thing he'd expected Ziggy to say. He was spooked worse than he thought. Ziggy was too independent to casually take that offer. "Of course it is." He said. "Summer even bullied Scott into making it an official offer." Ziggy nodded shakily. "What's wrong? This is more than your friend dying."
"It's not just the Scorpion Cartel." Ziggy said. "I thought it was, but it's not. It's all of them. Stupid, I should have known after the prison." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't run from all of them."
Dillon leaned forward and placed a careful hand against Ziggy's chin. "Hey." He said, making Ziggy look up at him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." There was no denying the relief that flooded into Ziggy's eyes in response. "What did you do to piss that many people off?"
"Fresno Bob, the uh, the leader of the Scorpion Cartel, I uh… I was just so scared. I didn't think." Ziggy said, looking up at him. Despite the fear obvious in Ziggy's eyes, there was a tiny spark of pride there when he said, "I ripped his throat out."
"Go you." He said, which made Ziggy smile, just a little bit. "Go get your things. We'll go to the Garage."
As they left the apartment, Ziggy paused and looked at the door. There was a queer look in his eyes. "I don't have to get rid of it, do I?" he asked. And there it was, the instinctive territorialism most Predators felt about their homes. Honestly, as much Dillon liked to think Ziggy trusted him that much, he'd been beginning to wonder if Ziggy even felt it. His biology was screwed up enough that Ziggy might not.
"If you're going to come back to it, I don't see why you can't keep it." He replied, which was obviously the right thing to say from the way Ziggy's shoulders just relaxed. The ride back to the Garage was a short but quiet affair, Ziggy curled up in the passenger seat with his head pressed against the glass, legs tucked under him.
Scott approached him when they pulled in, but whatever he was going to say got choked up in his throat when Ziggy stepped out. Scott just stared at the younger man, taking in the red-rimmed eyes and the ugly bruise on one cheek. Finally, he pointed blindly upwards towards the bedrooms. "Third door in." he said.
Ziggy's eyes flickered up. Dillon watched him count the doors then come to the obvious conclusion. "Isn't that for a Ranger?"
"Don't have a Green. We'll figure something out when we do."
Ziggy looked back at them and, glancing between them, said empathically, "Thank you." Before he rushed up the stairs and hid himself in the room.