Bright Skies (Multi - Season Crossover/Power Rangers, prompt #17: Queen, T)
And now I give you: the origin of 'buttery'!
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Fandom/: Power Rangers Time Force moving into S.P.D., multiple Rangers from each season
Characters/: Wes (Time Force), multiple Rangers from other teams (Literally too many to list)
Pairings/: Post - Wes/Eric, Rocky/Adam, Shane/Dustin, Hunter/Cam, Carter/Dana, Andros/Ashley, Zhane/Karone, Carlos/Ronny, Jason/Taylor, Conner/Ethan, Justin/Rose, Tommy/Kimberly, Tyzonn/Mack, Cassie/OC, Nick/Maddison, Zack/Aisha, Trent/Kira, Post - Billy/Cestria. Future Ryan/Carter and Billy/Hayley. More couples will most likely be mentioned, but not shown.
prompt/: #17: Queen
Rating/: T (For non - graphic mentions of people having babies and being violent with one another)
Disclaimer/: I don't own the Power Rangers, but if Disney's hiring any new writers I volunteer.
Summary/: When Wes' life starts to fall apart, an accident gives him a chance at a fresh start in New Tech City, with Space Patrol Delta. But even a new life has its ups and downs - and weird friends. Meanwhile, Eric tries to move on.
Warnings/: A mentally handicapped person living in a medical facility, angst, male and female slash, non - cemented couples (In otherwords, pairings that will be separated), children created by scientific means
Author's Notes/: Bridge might seem rather precocious here, but because it's Bridge I think it still works. Plus he's too adorable to imagine otherwise. And I now have my own explanation behind toast that has forever changed the way I watch S.P.D. But I kinda like that.
Wes sighed, which turned into a yawn. He glared down at the paperwork piled in front of him. He was supposed to be going through them for cadet recommendations to other squads, but he just couldn't seem to focus on what he was doing.
Coffee, he decided. Coffee would be good.
Luckily for him, being in the last office on the end of the Drill Sergeant wing had turned out to be a good thing. The first two rooms, Andros and Jason's, were closest to Command. He and Dax on the other hand, were on the end - right next to the kitchen and break area. It made late night duties far more pleasant when he only had to walk about ten feet to find food or caffeine.
"Here you go, Baby," he heard a voice murmur.
He froze, instinctively pressing back against the wall.
"Don't want toast," whined a much younger, sleepier voice.
"It's special toast, Baby. It'll help you feel better if you eat it," Aisha coaxed.
"Better?" Bridge repeated, sounding skeptical.
"Much better," she assured him.
Wes winced. She must have had to wake Bridge up again. It hadn't taken long for his abilities to flare as he grew, and now he frequently suffered from emotional backlash whenever he tried to sleep, which gave him horrible nightmares. Nightmares he'd never wish on someone his own age, let alone a three-year-old.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Baby?"
"Uncle Wes s'outside."
He cringed. Great. He wasn't sure what emotions he'd be projecting right now, and Bridge was always vulnerable after he'd had another dream. He struggled to calm himself, focusing on his breathing for a moment.
"Maybe you should invite him in, then."
"Uncle Wes?"
He braced himself, trying to stay as calm and peaceful as possible before he went through the doorway with a friendly smile. "Hey, Kiddo. What's up?"
"Mama woke me 'gain," Bridge pouted, holding out his arms expectantly.
Wes leaned down, giving him a careful hug and kissing the top of his head. Bridge still didn't really understand why his parents woke him up at night when he started to have another bad dream, and he tended to be cranky because of it. At least as cranky as Bridge ever got, which was still angelic compared to one of Sydney's temper tantrums. He still wasn't sure that Ryan's Terrible-Twos excuse was as reasonable as he seemed to think it was. "Well, I'm glad you're up. Now you can talk to me while I take a break from my boring old paperwork." He pulled a face and was rewarded with a slight giggle.
Aisha shot him a grateful look from behind Bridge.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Trying to decide which cadets I have are really good, so I can give them something better to do."
Bridge frowned, tilting his head as he considered this. "You gonna promo-somethin' 'em?"
"Promotion," he corrected gently. "That's right. Where'd you learn a big word like that?"
Bridge brightened instantly. "Uncle Cam! He made me ... " He paused, wrinkling his nose as he searched for the right words. "Com'ter gram?"
"Computer program," Aisha told him.
He nodded, beaming. "Does all sorts o' stuff! Big words an' pretty pictures! An' numbers!" His eyes lit up, and he began to bounce.
"You like numbers?" Wes asked, smiling because he had to. Bridge was too adorable for words; he often reminded him of Trip.
The thought still left a dull ache, but he could deal with it now.
Bridge nodded eagerly. "I c'n count t' five!" he boasted happily, slurring his speech slightly in his excitement.
"That's fantastic. Can you show me?"
"One, two, three, four, five." Bridge recited carefully, and to Wes' surprise, he traced very sloppy shapes on the tabletop to represent the numbers he counted.
"Wow. You're really smart, Bridge."
Bridge blushed, ducking his head and beaming. "Nah ... " he said softly. "S'just 'cause o' Uncle Cam. Sky n 'lizbeth are lots better than me."
"Bridge, you are very smart. I don't wanna here you put yourself down like that," Aisha scolded gently.
Bridge slumped a little. "Sorry, Mama," he mumbled.
She moved beside him, running a hand through his hair. "It's okay, Baby." She kissed the top of his head. "You just remember how special you are, and how much everybody loves you."
Bridge sighed contentedly and leaned against her. "Yes, Mama."
Wes tried not to wince again, hoping Bridge wasn't picking something up from him again. He usually leaned on Aisha like that when he was trying to get away from the feelings around him. Wes didn't *think* it was him, but it was often hard to tell the difference between Bridge being the cuddly little boy he naturally was, and being genuinely in need of comfort.
"Eat your toast, Baby. It'll make you feel better."
Bridge was exactly as Zofren had warned them he would be: completely unpredictable. Not in the sense that he was a temperamental child per say, but his moods could change at the drop of a hat. One minute he'd be perfectly fine, the next he'd be screaming at the top of his lungs. More than once they'd caught him swearing, but Bridge had no idea what he was saying or why, and he couldn't be punished for what he didn't understand. The strain of not being able to help him was hard not only on Bridge's parents, but on Bridge himself. He often asked what was wrong with him, and when his parents continued to tell him nothing, he'd started trying to ask his aunts and uncles.
No one was willing to explain, let alone able. How do you tell a three-year-old you don't know what he's capable of? How do you explain *what* had happened, when they barely knew themselves?
How were they supposed to tell him he could never be normal, and there was nothing he could do to change that?
Wes pinched the bridge of his nose. -(Bridge *is* normal,)- he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. -(There's nothing wrong with him, or Sky, or Elizabeth, or Jaz, or Sydney. They’re all perfectly normal, healthy kids.)-
He hated himself for having to think about it. After a year of fighting Ransik and his mutants, any references to genetic enhancement scared him. And having to admit that his son was, by all medical definition, a mutant? Something he'd once sworn to fight against?
He could try reminding himself that the mutants he'd fought were criminals. It had nothing to do what *what* they were, so much as what they'd done. A part of his mind that sounded disturbingly like Jen always insisted that Sky and the others were *not* the same thing.
But then he would think of Nadira and Ransik, who had looked so much more human than the others. And he would wonder.
Sky hadn't even shown any abilities yet. The still didn't know for sure what he could do, but according to Zofren it would most likely be passive and defensive, so it shouldn't be too hard to deal with. The fact that he was grateful for such a small favor made him feel worse, because he didn't know if he would have been able to deal with Bridge on a daily basis the way Aisha and the guys did.
Aisha was his only mother figure. Somehow she managed to not only take care of him, but accept and mother him without the slightest bit of hesitation even when he was in the middle of another screaming fit. She kept all his information and time well-organized and divided between his four parents. She always seemed so self-assured and confident in what she was doing with him.
She really was an amazing woman.
"Uncle Wes?"
He blinked, glancing down at Bridge. "Yeah, Kiddo?"
Bridge was frowning. "You're turnin’ colors again."
He winced. 'Turning colors' was the term Bridge used to explain when he was sensing another person's emotions. Cam had said something about aura perception before reluctantly agreeing to work with Bridge on understanding and controlling whatever he was doing, but Wes really hadn't understood the meaning. All he knew was that 'turning colors' meant he was projecting after all, and it was starting to bother Bridge.
"What colors is he turning, Bridge?" Aisha asked calmly. Her eyes studied Wes with a seriousness he didn't like.
"Purple-blue-yellow-gray," Bridge returned, absently munching on a piece of his toast. "S'not bright."
Which he *pretty* sure mean it wasn't overpowering him - just being noticeable.
"And what did Uncle Cam say those colors mean?" Aisha prompted.
Bridge wrinkled his nose again. "Yellow's bad," he said slowly. "'Cept for Mama's, n' Uncle Dusty, n' Aunt Taylor, n' Aunt Ashley. It's ... " He paused again, searching determinedly for what he was trying to say. "Not happy. G-guilty?"
Aisha was definitely staring at Wes now. "And the other parts?"
Bridge shook his head. "Just two colors. Purple-blue is ... more than sad. Worried?" He frowned. "Whatcha worried 'bout, Uncle Wes?"
Worried wasn't quite what he was feeling, but he didn't really want to elaborate for Bridge what self-hatred and fear for the future of his children really was. Instead he offered a weak smile. "Just wondering if I'll ever be as good as your mom is, Bridge."
Aisha glared at him for the not-quite-lie, but Bridge shook his head. "*No one's* better 'n Mama," he informed him seriously. Then he cocked his head again. "But Sky loves you. An' Mama says long as you're loved, that's all that matters."
Wes smiled, and felt his eyes grow moist. "You're absolutely right, Bridge. That *is* all that matters. You are definitely one smart kid."
Bridge flashed him a smile, then paused to study his right palm. The gloves he wore had been custom-made from a fabric used on Eltar for dampening extra-sensory abilities. They worked to a point, but Bridge's level of control was still limited enough to make them constantly necessary, yet not always effective.
"My fingers are all buttery," he declared suddenly, wiggling said fingers.
The comment was so completely random and yet so *Bridge*, Wes and Aisha both found themselves laughing. The mood of the room began to relax, and Aisha finally stopped glaring at him.
"Of course they are. You were eating buttery toast, silly." Aisha teased, mimicking the way he'd wiggled his fingers.
"Buttery ... " Bridge mused, staring at his hand as he waved them again.
He blinked suddenly, then turned a bright smile up at Aisha. "You were right, Mama. Toast *did* make me better." He turned to hold out the remaining bit on his plate to Wes. "Maybe it c'n make you better, Uncle Wes. It's buttery," he offered, making the finger-wiggle gesture once more.
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Fandom/: Power Rangers Time Force moving into S.P.D., multiple Rangers from each season
Characters/: Wes (Time Force), multiple Rangers from other teams (Literally too many to list)
Pairings/: Post - Wes/Eric, Rocky/Adam, Shane/Dustin, Hunter/Cam, Carter/Dana, Andros/Ashley, Zhane/Karone, Carlos/Ronny, Jason/Taylor, Conner/Ethan, Justin/Rose, Tommy/Kimberly, Tyzonn/Mack, Cassie/OC, Nick/Maddison, Zack/Aisha, Trent/Kira, Post - Billy/Cestria. Future Ryan/Carter and Billy/Hayley. More couples will most likely be mentioned, but not shown.
prompt/: #17: Queen
Rating/: T (For non - graphic mentions of people having babies and being violent with one another)
Disclaimer/: I don't own the Power Rangers, but if Disney's hiring any new writers I volunteer.
Summary/: When Wes' life starts to fall apart, an accident gives him a chance at a fresh start in New Tech City, with Space Patrol Delta. But even a new life has its ups and downs - and weird friends. Meanwhile, Eric tries to move on.
Warnings/: A mentally handicapped person living in a medical facility, angst, male and female slash, non - cemented couples (In otherwords, pairings that will be separated), children created by scientific means
Author's Notes/: Bridge might seem rather precocious here, but because it's Bridge I think it still works. Plus he's too adorable to imagine otherwise. And I now have my own explanation behind toast that has forever changed the way I watch S.P.D. But I kinda like that.
Wes sighed, which turned into a yawn. He glared down at the paperwork piled in front of him. He was supposed to be going through them for cadet recommendations to other squads, but he just couldn't seem to focus on what he was doing.
Coffee, he decided. Coffee would be good.
Luckily for him, being in the last office on the end of the Drill Sergeant wing had turned out to be a good thing. The first two rooms, Andros and Jason's, were closest to Command. He and Dax on the other hand, were on the end - right next to the kitchen and break area. It made late night duties far more pleasant when he only had to walk about ten feet to find food or caffeine.
"Here you go, Baby," he heard a voice murmur.
He froze, instinctively pressing back against the wall.
"Don't want toast," whined a much younger, sleepier voice.
"It's special toast, Baby. It'll help you feel better if you eat it," Aisha coaxed.
"Better?" Bridge repeated, sounding skeptical.
"Much better," she assured him.
Wes winced. She must have had to wake Bridge up again. It hadn't taken long for his abilities to flare as he grew, and now he frequently suffered from emotional backlash whenever he tried to sleep, which gave him horrible nightmares. Nightmares he'd never wish on someone his own age, let alone a three-year-old.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Baby?"
"Uncle Wes s'outside."
He cringed. Great. He wasn't sure what emotions he'd be projecting right now, and Bridge was always vulnerable after he'd had another dream. He struggled to calm himself, focusing on his breathing for a moment.
"Maybe you should invite him in, then."
"Uncle Wes?"
He braced himself, trying to stay as calm and peaceful as possible before he went through the doorway with a friendly smile. "Hey, Kiddo. What's up?"
"Mama woke me 'gain," Bridge pouted, holding out his arms expectantly.
Wes leaned down, giving him a careful hug and kissing the top of his head. Bridge still didn't really understand why his parents woke him up at night when he started to have another bad dream, and he tended to be cranky because of it. At least as cranky as Bridge ever got, which was still angelic compared to one of Sydney's temper tantrums. He still wasn't sure that Ryan's Terrible-Twos excuse was as reasonable as he seemed to think it was. "Well, I'm glad you're up. Now you can talk to me while I take a break from my boring old paperwork." He pulled a face and was rewarded with a slight giggle.
Aisha shot him a grateful look from behind Bridge.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Trying to decide which cadets I have are really good, so I can give them something better to do."
Bridge frowned, tilting his head as he considered this. "You gonna promo-somethin' 'em?"
"Promotion," he corrected gently. "That's right. Where'd you learn a big word like that?"
Bridge brightened instantly. "Uncle Cam! He made me ... " He paused, wrinkling his nose as he searched for the right words. "Com'ter gram?"
"Computer program," Aisha told him.
He nodded, beaming. "Does all sorts o' stuff! Big words an' pretty pictures! An' numbers!" His eyes lit up, and he began to bounce.
"You like numbers?" Wes asked, smiling because he had to. Bridge was too adorable for words; he often reminded him of Trip.
The thought still left a dull ache, but he could deal with it now.
Bridge nodded eagerly. "I c'n count t' five!" he boasted happily, slurring his speech slightly in his excitement.
"That's fantastic. Can you show me?"
"One, two, three, four, five." Bridge recited carefully, and to Wes' surprise, he traced very sloppy shapes on the tabletop to represent the numbers he counted.
"Wow. You're really smart, Bridge."
Bridge blushed, ducking his head and beaming. "Nah ... " he said softly. "S'just 'cause o' Uncle Cam. Sky n 'lizbeth are lots better than me."
"Bridge, you are very smart. I don't wanna here you put yourself down like that," Aisha scolded gently.
Bridge slumped a little. "Sorry, Mama," he mumbled.
She moved beside him, running a hand through his hair. "It's okay, Baby." She kissed the top of his head. "You just remember how special you are, and how much everybody loves you."
Bridge sighed contentedly and leaned against her. "Yes, Mama."
Wes tried not to wince again, hoping Bridge wasn't picking something up from him again. He usually leaned on Aisha like that when he was trying to get away from the feelings around him. Wes didn't *think* it was him, but it was often hard to tell the difference between Bridge being the cuddly little boy he naturally was, and being genuinely in need of comfort.
"Eat your toast, Baby. It'll make you feel better."
Bridge was exactly as Zofren had warned them he would be: completely unpredictable. Not in the sense that he was a temperamental child per say, but his moods could change at the drop of a hat. One minute he'd be perfectly fine, the next he'd be screaming at the top of his lungs. More than once they'd caught him swearing, but Bridge had no idea what he was saying or why, and he couldn't be punished for what he didn't understand. The strain of not being able to help him was hard not only on Bridge's parents, but on Bridge himself. He often asked what was wrong with him, and when his parents continued to tell him nothing, he'd started trying to ask his aunts and uncles.
No one was willing to explain, let alone able. How do you tell a three-year-old you don't know what he's capable of? How do you explain *what* had happened, when they barely knew themselves?
How were they supposed to tell him he could never be normal, and there was nothing he could do to change that?
Wes pinched the bridge of his nose. -(Bridge *is* normal,)- he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. -(There's nothing wrong with him, or Sky, or Elizabeth, or Jaz, or Sydney. They’re all perfectly normal, healthy kids.)-
He hated himself for having to think about it. After a year of fighting Ransik and his mutants, any references to genetic enhancement scared him. And having to admit that his son was, by all medical definition, a mutant? Something he'd once sworn to fight against?
He could try reminding himself that the mutants he'd fought were criminals. It had nothing to do what *what* they were, so much as what they'd done. A part of his mind that sounded disturbingly like Jen always insisted that Sky and the others were *not* the same thing.
But then he would think of Nadira and Ransik, who had looked so much more human than the others. And he would wonder.
Sky hadn't even shown any abilities yet. The still didn't know for sure what he could do, but according to Zofren it would most likely be passive and defensive, so it shouldn't be too hard to deal with. The fact that he was grateful for such a small favor made him feel worse, because he didn't know if he would have been able to deal with Bridge on a daily basis the way Aisha and the guys did.
Aisha was his only mother figure. Somehow she managed to not only take care of him, but accept and mother him without the slightest bit of hesitation even when he was in the middle of another screaming fit. She kept all his information and time well-organized and divided between his four parents. She always seemed so self-assured and confident in what she was doing with him.
She really was an amazing woman.
"Uncle Wes?"
He blinked, glancing down at Bridge. "Yeah, Kiddo?"
Bridge was frowning. "You're turnin’ colors again."
He winced. 'Turning colors' was the term Bridge used to explain when he was sensing another person's emotions. Cam had said something about aura perception before reluctantly agreeing to work with Bridge on understanding and controlling whatever he was doing, but Wes really hadn't understood the meaning. All he knew was that 'turning colors' meant he was projecting after all, and it was starting to bother Bridge.
"What colors is he turning, Bridge?" Aisha asked calmly. Her eyes studied Wes with a seriousness he didn't like.
"Purple-blue-yellow-gray," Bridge returned, absently munching on a piece of his toast. "S'not bright."
Which he *pretty* sure mean it wasn't overpowering him - just being noticeable.
"And what did Uncle Cam say those colors mean?" Aisha prompted.
Bridge wrinkled his nose again. "Yellow's bad," he said slowly. "'Cept for Mama's, n' Uncle Dusty, n' Aunt Taylor, n' Aunt Ashley. It's ... " He paused again, searching determinedly for what he was trying to say. "Not happy. G-guilty?"
Aisha was definitely staring at Wes now. "And the other parts?"
Bridge shook his head. "Just two colors. Purple-blue is ... more than sad. Worried?" He frowned. "Whatcha worried 'bout, Uncle Wes?"
Worried wasn't quite what he was feeling, but he didn't really want to elaborate for Bridge what self-hatred and fear for the future of his children really was. Instead he offered a weak smile. "Just wondering if I'll ever be as good as your mom is, Bridge."
Aisha glared at him for the not-quite-lie, but Bridge shook his head. "*No one's* better 'n Mama," he informed him seriously. Then he cocked his head again. "But Sky loves you. An' Mama says long as you're loved, that's all that matters."
Wes smiled, and felt his eyes grow moist. "You're absolutely right, Bridge. That *is* all that matters. You are definitely one smart kid."
Bridge flashed him a smile, then paused to study his right palm. The gloves he wore had been custom-made from a fabric used on Eltar for dampening extra-sensory abilities. They worked to a point, but Bridge's level of control was still limited enough to make them constantly necessary, yet not always effective.
"My fingers are all buttery," he declared suddenly, wiggling said fingers.
The comment was so completely random and yet so *Bridge*, Wes and Aisha both found themselves laughing. The mood of the room began to relax, and Aisha finally stopped glaring at him.
"Of course they are. You were eating buttery toast, silly." Aisha teased, mimicking the way he'd wiggled his fingers.
"Buttery ... " Bridge mused, staring at his hand as he waved them again.
He blinked suddenly, then turned a bright smile up at Aisha. "You were right, Mama. Toast *did* make me better." He turned to hold out the remaining bit on his plate to Wes. "Maybe it c'n make you better, Uncle Wes. It's buttery," he offered, making the finger-wiggle gesture once more.