A Darker Shade of Red (Time Force/Power Rangers, T, Chapter 2: Unwanted)
Much love to rivulet027, who managed to combine two of my favorite things into a an adorable drabble! Isn't she amazing? ♥ -Beams-
And now I give you more of A Darker Shade of Red, complete with temper tantrums, fist fights, and Street Fighter. And Trip actually punches someone! -Mock gasp-
"Alex, you can't keep avoiding this forever," Logan argued.
Watch me, he thought fiercely. "It's perfectly safe where it is," he said instead.
"And if someone cracks the vault?"
"They couldn't use it anyway because of the DNA Lock," he reminded him.
Logan reached up to rub his forehead. They were technically the same rank now, but it was still hard to think of him as Derek. "And what about the other Rangers? Have you stopped to consider that one day they'll need a fifth? Those powers were made to work in a team. They'll need their leader."
"And they have one: Jen," he cut in sharply, eyes narrowing. "*If* for some reason, the Rangers couldn't handle something without a fifth morpher, *if* and only then, they needed me, then ... " He sighed, forcing out the words. "Then I'd accept it."
"So you plan to leave it in the vault until it's absolutely necessary? They could be dead before you even get to it!"
"I wasn't aware you had such little faith in them."
"I wasn't aware you were so selfish."
That did it.
"I am *not* being selfish," he snarled, fists clenching. "I did my time. I brought in Ransik, I protected the city. It's not my morpher anymore. It never really was to begin with."
Logan gave him an irritated look. "Are you still trying to argue that it belongs to Wesley Collins? The man is *dead*, Alex. He's been dead for a thousand years. As his descendant, that leaves it to *you*."
"That morpher," he said coldly, carefully, "Was *never* mine, Logan. It was made for Collins. Just because it came back here after his death doesn't make it any less his." And I don't want it! Haven't I suffered enough over that stupid hunk of metal?
Logan sighed, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. "Look, Alex. Why don't we compromise? You don't have to use it. All I'm asking is that you keep it with you. That way if something does happen, you're already prepared. Does that sound fair?"
He scowled at him. "It sounds like I don't have a choice in the matter," he retorted. The irony wasn't lost on him that only a year ago he would never have spoken to the other man this way. The benefits of being promoted for coming back from the dead, apparently.
"Honestly? No. The bigwigs want the morpher on your wrist, Alex. They want their Rangers. And you are the *only* person capable of using the Red Chrono Morpher." Logan shrugged. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
He closed his eyes with a sigh, fighting to control the part of him that screamed in protest at the idea of even getting near a morpher again. "Well, whatever the bigwigs want," he muttered bitterly. He snatched the Chrono Morpher from it's case in the center of Logan's desk, slapping it on his wrist irritably. He ignored the surge of energy and familiarity that came with its acceptance of him. "Will that be all? 'Sir'?" he finished sarcastically.
Logan scowled at him. "Just get out of my office, Alex. I don't have time to deal with your attitude anymore."
He spun on his heel, marching out. Behind him, he heard Logan call "And while you're at it, grow up!"
"Go to - " he choked on the muttered words, and scowled.
Stupid language censor. Stupid morpher. Stupid sadistic scientist bast -
He coughed as his thoughts rebelled against the word, and fought to keep to punch from punching the wall as he waited impatiently for the elevator.
Judging by the startled looks he got as he made his way to his office, the expression on his face was less than friendly. They wouldn't have been able to blame him if they'd known - not that he would ever explain. How else was he supposed to react to being forced back into the role he'd spent his life trapped in, the role he'd been trying so hard to escape?
He flopped in his chair as the door to slid shut behind him, closing his eyes as he tried to keep from grabbing the morpher and flinging it across the room. Or out the window, more preferably. He knew he should probably stop whining about this. No one had ever cared about his opinion on things before; why should they bother to now?
Distantly he was forced to admit that wasn't really fair. Trip would have understood, at least a little. He knew better than almost anyone just how Alex felt about the Chrono Morphers, and somewhat of why.
But Trip was tainted now, too. All of the Time Force Rangers were. Now that they knew Wes, Wes was the one they wanted. And his replacement wasn't good enough.
His replacement would never be good enough.
Besides, hadn't Trip taken a morpher, too? Even though he knew the truth, knew what they were, he still wore one. Alex may have been the one to tell them to go, but Trip didn't seem to have any regrets about being a Ranger himself.
He shook his head, frustrated with himself. Self-pity wasn't going to get him anywhere but depressed, and he hadn't talked with Trip enough to make any assumptions. He had enough problems to worry about right now.
He reached for a stack of paperwork and started to work his way through it. Might as well be at least a little productive today.
An hour later found him tossing another folder aside irritably. He still couldn't focus on anything, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't even sure what half of what he'd just read was.
He eyed the morpher sitting innocently on his left wrist again and sighed, pinching his nose. He still had the Ranger Report to do. If he was ever going to tell the Rangers about his new accessory, now was probably the best time.
The Ranger Report was yet another new - and in his opinion completely stupid - idea the higher-ups had come up with, requiring for an update each week by one of the Rangers on any unusual activity. A different Ranger was ordered to do the report each week, and for some reason they'd decided to put him in charge of taking and delivering the results. It was supposed to warn them of any possible Ransik-like attacks before they happened, but he sincerely doubted that if it *was* serious, they wouldn't do anything other than send the Rangers after it … which they would have done on their own in the first place.
So the entire process was stupid and pointless, and he had to do it anyway. Why had he agreed to become an officer again? Oh yeah: he was a masochist.
He checked the listing to find out which Ranger had been assigned for the first week and lifted his wrist with a sigh. "Collins to Lieutenant Kendall."
"Yeah, W - " There was a cough. "Yes, Sir?"
He scowled at the slip. "Report to my office as soon as you're available," he said shortly, turning off the communicator without another word.
About ten minutes later, Lucas came in hesitantly. "Sir? I - " He froze as his eyes found Alex's wrist, then narrowed in anger. "What are you doing with that?" he demanded.
Alex closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Things in the past don't always remain in the past, Lieutenant," he said at last, finally looking up at him.
Lucas' fury didn't fade in the slightest. "That's not yours," he growled. "It belongs to Wes!"
"I'm well aware of that, thanks," he snapped back. "Quite frankly, it's none of your business *who* it belongs to, Lieutenant. I called you in here for the Ranger Report. You're first up."
Lucas snapped to attention instantly. "No unusual activity to report, sir."
He nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
Lucas saluted, then hesitated.
He sighed, knowing he was going to regret this. "Permission to speak freely."
The Blue Ranger's face hardened almost instantly. "You'll never replace Wes." His voice was low and harsh. "*Sir*."
Alex's fists clenched. If Lucas hadn't left at that exact moment, he knew with utter certainty that he would have throttled him right then and there. He barely restrained himself from sending the files on his desk flying. Shaking his head as he fought to control his temper and failed, he headed for the training rooms. He needed to blow off some steam.
****
The roundhouse caught his opponent off guard, and he spun with his momentum to follow up with a side kick. He ducked the incoming punch, sliding under it instead to catch them in the gut with a hard uppercut. He dropped back, dodging several more blows, and jumped over a sweep kick that would otherwise have knocked him flat. Moving in with several swift punches that left no chance for retaliation, he shot an abrupt snap kick to the back of the knee and another uppercut that brought them to the floor, his fist hovering over their face.
"Opponent defeated. Winner: Collins," the computer announced blandly.
The small audience that had gathered applauded as the image beneath him faded. He stood slowly, lowering his fists as he took several breaths, finally feeling calmer. Distantly he wondered if they would have applauded so much if they knew it wasn't a training sim he'd been battling.
But then almost no one remembered the classic video games from the end of the 1900's, let alone thought that by-the-book Captain Collins was enough of a history buff to program Street Fighter into the training room. He'd always had a bit of a weakness for video games - especially the combat variety.
"You *jerk*!"
The sudden yank on his arm startled him, and he spun to find Katie glaring at him hatefully. "How could you?!" she demanded, practically nose-to-nose with him. "You had no right to take it! It belongs to Wes! And Jen's our leader, not you!"
He tried to discreetly take a step back as he twisted to get free of her grip. His heart was pounding at the sudden intrusion on his personal space, and he fought to keep it from showing. "What are you talking about? I haven't taken anything."
"Then why is it on your wrist?!"
"My ... ?" He trailed off, realizing what she was referring to. His eyes fell automatically to the morpher. *That* what was she was so furious over? If she wanted it so bad, she could *have* it.
He opened his mouth to respond, but a soft, choked sound stopped him. Heart sinking, he turned to find the last sight on Earth he'd wanted to see: Trip glaring up at him, trying desperately not to cry.
Darn. Whatever Trip had wanted believed on his own was probably being overridden by Katie's angry thoughts. "Trip, I was going to tell you," he began. "I just - "
He was cut off abruptly by the fist that slammed into his nose. Pain exploded between his eyes as his head slammed back from the force of the blow. He stumbled, hands going instinctively to cover his nose. Something wet touched them, and pain flared again as his fingers brushed it. Spots swam before his eyes, and he barely managed to force them open to look at Trip in shock.
The other boy looked horrified, but the expression faded back into anger as their eyes met. "How *could* you?" he demanded. "You - I *hate* you! I'll *never* forgive you for this!"
A cold, distant feeling settled over Alex as he watched Trip bolt from the room. He was aware of Katie's nasty glare before she followed, but he could care less.
Intellectually, he knew that Trip couldn't really hate him - research stated that Xybrians weren't capable of hate, and barely extreme dislike. Their hearts were too pure for that, and Trip was no exception. But knowing that, and hearing him say it were two different things.
Trip was supposed to know. Trip was supposed to understand. Of *everyone*, Trip was supposed to understand how much he hated the Chrono Morphers, that he would never have taken it if he had a choice.
Apparently Trip was on *his* side now, too.
His heart clenched painfully, and he brushed aside whoever was trying to reach for his nose, heading for the door. There was only one person who could have leaked the information about the Morpher. And if Kendall wanted to cause a problem, he'd get one.
He found him in the cafeteria. The person Lucas was talking to didn't even register as he headed straight for the other boy and extracted revenge. Lucas' eyes widened as he was spun around, only to have a fist smash into his face. He retaliated, and within moments they were brawling, ignoring the hands that tried to separate them.
Something sharp pressed into Alex's neck. Sedative! his instincts screamed silently, and he struggled wildly. No, no no! Get away from me! Leave me alone!
But despite his efforts, he felt his eyes slide shut.
****
Consciousness returned to find himself staring up into a familiar pair of brown eyes. The anxiety he felt faded at the sight, and he found himself getting lost in them. Then pain struck again, and he flinched. "Ow ... "
"Stop moving," Jen informed him. "You'll only make it worse." She carefully dabbed his nose with a wet cloth, then refolded it to a clean side and dabbed again.
"It hurts," he mumbled. The part of his mind that was more coherent was appalled at how whiny that had come out. What was *wrong* with him today?
"Your nose is broken - of course it hurts. We don't have time to get it taken care of yet." She seemed mildly amused.
"Broken?"
"Apparently Trip has a better right hook than he thought," she informed him.
Trip. Trip had hit him. Trip was - Trip was one of *them* now.
The thought hurt more than his nose ever could, and he tried to sit up, pushing her hands away. "I'm fine," he muttered.
"Of course you are," she retorted sarcastically, reaching for him again.
He ducked away, wincing as pain flared, and shook it off with an old sense of familiarity. Pain was nothing. Pain was just his body trying to force limits that could easily be ignored. "Stop it. I'm fine."
"Half of your face is covered in blood. Somehow I doubt that," she returned irritably. "And we're been summoned for a meeting with Captain Logan, so you need to get cleaned up."
"Meeting. Great. Of course," he muttered bitterly. Time Force at it's most inconvenient, as always.
Jen was silent for a moment. "Why didn't you tell us they gave you back the Red Chrono Morpher?" she asked suddenly, managing to let only a hint of anger into her voice.
He let out a long sigh, trying to calm his frustration. This was Jen, and she deserved to know - it was her team after all. And at least she was giving him the chance to explain. "I have no intention of using it again. Ever. The Rangers already have a capable leader and a good team. They don't need a fifth Ranger anymore. Time Force is trying to bully me into taking up my old position, but I won't. No one wants to see this thing in a museum more than me, whether you believe me or not. As for why I didn't tell the rest of you, I - " He barely caught himself from finishing the thought. I didn't have the time. I didn't want to admit I had it. I didn't want to think about it.
... I already know you won't accept me as your teammate.
"I didn't think you needed to know I had it if all it was going to be was a fancy communicator," he said finally.
"Maybe you should have let us be the judge of that," she said icily. "Here. You'd better get cleaned up." She practically threw the cloth at him, storming out of the room as he caught it on reflex.
He sat still for a moment before letting out a slow sigh. He leaned forward to rest his head between his knees for a few minutes. His nerves were still shot, from Trip's betrayal and the sedative they'd apparently used to stop his fight with Kendall. He *hated* sedatives.
"A - Alex?"
He closed his eyes for a moment at the tentative voice. "Yes?"
"I ... I'm sorry," Trip whispered. "I didn't ... I didn't mean it."
He snorted without meaning to, and winced as pain flared in his nose. "Yes, you did," he said shortly, pushing himself to his feet. He paused at a mirror to make a few cursory swipes at the blood on his face until he was clean.
"No, I didn't. I'm *really* sorry, Alex," Trip pleaded. "I - "
"You what?" he asked flatly, turning to stare at him. He ignored the tears in Trip's eyes. No matter how bad Trip felt now, it couldn't compare to how *he* felt. "You forgot? You weren't thinking? You were missing Collins too much to remember how I feel about it?"
"That's not - " Trip choked, and a few tears finally spilled over. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, *really* sorry!"
He sighed, slowly shaking his head. "Forget it, Trip," he muttered. "I get it already. If it makes you all feel any better, I'm not wearing it because I *chose* to, okay?" He turned, tossing the cloth in a bin and wondering why Jen had bothered with something so ... retro. Who actually used washcloths these days, anyway?
Force of habit probably, he realized. After a year in the past, he supposed he'd have to get used to the four of them developing weird quirks like that.
"Alex, please!"
He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. "We have a meeting, Squad Leader," he said finally. He ignored Trip's choked sobs as he made his way to Logan's office. No matter what Trip thought, there was no way he could possibly being hurting more than Alex was right now.
The other three Rangers were already waiting when he arrived, standing at attention before Logan. The chairs that were usually place in front of the captain's desk had been moved, Alex noted. Which was interesting, being that technically he and Jen were of equal rank to Logan and didn't *have* to stand in front of him like cadets waiting to be scolded. Not that Jen would; she'd never leave her team to stand alone. It was part of what made her such a good leader.
Alex moved to stand slightly apart from the rest, and didn't bother straightening to attention. He could care less right now what any of them thought of it; he was getting sick and tired of other people's opinions, other people's games. They already hated him anyway. Why was he even bothering to try and satisfy them all?
He heard Trip slip into place beside him, trying to inch closer to close the gap. He could see Katie's glare out of the corner of his eye, and ignored it.
"Glad to see you could all make it," Logan said sarcastically. His gaze zeroed in on Alex, who tried not to roll his eyes. Of course, it was all automatically *his* fault. "I gave you that morpher two hours ago Collins, and you're already getting into trouble with it. Do you have any idea what it does for Time Force to have people see its Rangers brawling like children?" he demanded.
Alex stiffened. "I am *not* a Ranger," he said darkly.
Logan glared, but he wasn't back down. "The deal was that you wear it in case of emergencies. Not that you use it as an excuse to cause trouble."
"Is that what you think I was doing?" Alex demanded incredulously. He gestured to his nose. "Yeah, I *live* for stuff like this. I told you I don't want the stupid thing, and you *made* me take it."
"And we've been over this," Logan ground out. "You are the only one capable of using that morpher, therefore it now belongs to you. That doesn't give you the excuse to act like such a child about it!"
"Acting like a child?" He laughed, a low, bitter sound. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trip's flinch. "I'm acting like a child." He shook his head, amused. "You know what? Fine. Punish me. Fire me. Whatever. I don't care anymore." He turned for the door.
"I'm not finished with you, Collins!"
"Well, I'm finished with you," he snapped back. He paused in the doorway to look back at them, shaking his head. "I'm finished with all of you. You want the Red Chrono Morpher? You can have it." He ripped it from his wrist without a second thought, throwing it at Kendall's head. "Go give it to the real Wesley Collins. His replacement quits."
He walked out, ignoring the stares at his back, and Logan's shouts.
And now I give you more of A Darker Shade of Red, complete with temper tantrums, fist fights, and Street Fighter. And Trip actually punches someone! -Mock gasp-
"Alex, you can't keep avoiding this forever," Logan argued.
Watch me, he thought fiercely. "It's perfectly safe where it is," he said instead.
"And if someone cracks the vault?"
"They couldn't use it anyway because of the DNA Lock," he reminded him.
Logan reached up to rub his forehead. They were technically the same rank now, but it was still hard to think of him as Derek. "And what about the other Rangers? Have you stopped to consider that one day they'll need a fifth? Those powers were made to work in a team. They'll need their leader."
"And they have one: Jen," he cut in sharply, eyes narrowing. "*If* for some reason, the Rangers couldn't handle something without a fifth morpher, *if* and only then, they needed me, then ... " He sighed, forcing out the words. "Then I'd accept it."
"So you plan to leave it in the vault until it's absolutely necessary? They could be dead before you even get to it!"
"I wasn't aware you had such little faith in them."
"I wasn't aware you were so selfish."
That did it.
"I am *not* being selfish," he snarled, fists clenching. "I did my time. I brought in Ransik, I protected the city. It's not my morpher anymore. It never really was to begin with."
Logan gave him an irritated look. "Are you still trying to argue that it belongs to Wesley Collins? The man is *dead*, Alex. He's been dead for a thousand years. As his descendant, that leaves it to *you*."
"That morpher," he said coldly, carefully, "Was *never* mine, Logan. It was made for Collins. Just because it came back here after his death doesn't make it any less his." And I don't want it! Haven't I suffered enough over that stupid hunk of metal?
Logan sighed, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. "Look, Alex. Why don't we compromise? You don't have to use it. All I'm asking is that you keep it with you. That way if something does happen, you're already prepared. Does that sound fair?"
He scowled at him. "It sounds like I don't have a choice in the matter," he retorted. The irony wasn't lost on him that only a year ago he would never have spoken to the other man this way. The benefits of being promoted for coming back from the dead, apparently.
"Honestly? No. The bigwigs want the morpher on your wrist, Alex. They want their Rangers. And you are the *only* person capable of using the Red Chrono Morpher." Logan shrugged. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
He closed his eyes with a sigh, fighting to control the part of him that screamed in protest at the idea of even getting near a morpher again. "Well, whatever the bigwigs want," he muttered bitterly. He snatched the Chrono Morpher from it's case in the center of Logan's desk, slapping it on his wrist irritably. He ignored the surge of energy and familiarity that came with its acceptance of him. "Will that be all? 'Sir'?" he finished sarcastically.
Logan scowled at him. "Just get out of my office, Alex. I don't have time to deal with your attitude anymore."
He spun on his heel, marching out. Behind him, he heard Logan call "And while you're at it, grow up!"
"Go to - " he choked on the muttered words, and scowled.
Stupid language censor. Stupid morpher. Stupid sadistic scientist bast -
He coughed as his thoughts rebelled against the word, and fought to keep to punch from punching the wall as he waited impatiently for the elevator.
Judging by the startled looks he got as he made his way to his office, the expression on his face was less than friendly. They wouldn't have been able to blame him if they'd known - not that he would ever explain. How else was he supposed to react to being forced back into the role he'd spent his life trapped in, the role he'd been trying so hard to escape?
He flopped in his chair as the door to slid shut behind him, closing his eyes as he tried to keep from grabbing the morpher and flinging it across the room. Or out the window, more preferably. He knew he should probably stop whining about this. No one had ever cared about his opinion on things before; why should they bother to now?
Distantly he was forced to admit that wasn't really fair. Trip would have understood, at least a little. He knew better than almost anyone just how Alex felt about the Chrono Morphers, and somewhat of why.
But Trip was tainted now, too. All of the Time Force Rangers were. Now that they knew Wes, Wes was the one they wanted. And his replacement wasn't good enough.
His replacement would never be good enough.
Besides, hadn't Trip taken a morpher, too? Even though he knew the truth, knew what they were, he still wore one. Alex may have been the one to tell them to go, but Trip didn't seem to have any regrets about being a Ranger himself.
He shook his head, frustrated with himself. Self-pity wasn't going to get him anywhere but depressed, and he hadn't talked with Trip enough to make any assumptions. He had enough problems to worry about right now.
He reached for a stack of paperwork and started to work his way through it. Might as well be at least a little productive today.
An hour later found him tossing another folder aside irritably. He still couldn't focus on anything, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't even sure what half of what he'd just read was.
He eyed the morpher sitting innocently on his left wrist again and sighed, pinching his nose. He still had the Ranger Report to do. If he was ever going to tell the Rangers about his new accessory, now was probably the best time.
The Ranger Report was yet another new - and in his opinion completely stupid - idea the higher-ups had come up with, requiring for an update each week by one of the Rangers on any unusual activity. A different Ranger was ordered to do the report each week, and for some reason they'd decided to put him in charge of taking and delivering the results. It was supposed to warn them of any possible Ransik-like attacks before they happened, but he sincerely doubted that if it *was* serious, they wouldn't do anything other than send the Rangers after it … which they would have done on their own in the first place.
So the entire process was stupid and pointless, and he had to do it anyway. Why had he agreed to become an officer again? Oh yeah: he was a masochist.
He checked the listing to find out which Ranger had been assigned for the first week and lifted his wrist with a sigh. "Collins to Lieutenant Kendall."
"Yeah, W - " There was a cough. "Yes, Sir?"
He scowled at the slip. "Report to my office as soon as you're available," he said shortly, turning off the communicator without another word.
About ten minutes later, Lucas came in hesitantly. "Sir? I - " He froze as his eyes found Alex's wrist, then narrowed in anger. "What are you doing with that?" he demanded.
Alex closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Things in the past don't always remain in the past, Lieutenant," he said at last, finally looking up at him.
Lucas' fury didn't fade in the slightest. "That's not yours," he growled. "It belongs to Wes!"
"I'm well aware of that, thanks," he snapped back. "Quite frankly, it's none of your business *who* it belongs to, Lieutenant. I called you in here for the Ranger Report. You're first up."
Lucas snapped to attention instantly. "No unusual activity to report, sir."
He nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
Lucas saluted, then hesitated.
He sighed, knowing he was going to regret this. "Permission to speak freely."
The Blue Ranger's face hardened almost instantly. "You'll never replace Wes." His voice was low and harsh. "*Sir*."
Alex's fists clenched. If Lucas hadn't left at that exact moment, he knew with utter certainty that he would have throttled him right then and there. He barely restrained himself from sending the files on his desk flying. Shaking his head as he fought to control his temper and failed, he headed for the training rooms. He needed to blow off some steam.
****
The roundhouse caught his opponent off guard, and he spun with his momentum to follow up with a side kick. He ducked the incoming punch, sliding under it instead to catch them in the gut with a hard uppercut. He dropped back, dodging several more blows, and jumped over a sweep kick that would otherwise have knocked him flat. Moving in with several swift punches that left no chance for retaliation, he shot an abrupt snap kick to the back of the knee and another uppercut that brought them to the floor, his fist hovering over their face.
"Opponent defeated. Winner: Collins," the computer announced blandly.
The small audience that had gathered applauded as the image beneath him faded. He stood slowly, lowering his fists as he took several breaths, finally feeling calmer. Distantly he wondered if they would have applauded so much if they knew it wasn't a training sim he'd been battling.
But then almost no one remembered the classic video games from the end of the 1900's, let alone thought that by-the-book Captain Collins was enough of a history buff to program Street Fighter into the training room. He'd always had a bit of a weakness for video games - especially the combat variety.
"You *jerk*!"
The sudden yank on his arm startled him, and he spun to find Katie glaring at him hatefully. "How could you?!" she demanded, practically nose-to-nose with him. "You had no right to take it! It belongs to Wes! And Jen's our leader, not you!"
He tried to discreetly take a step back as he twisted to get free of her grip. His heart was pounding at the sudden intrusion on his personal space, and he fought to keep it from showing. "What are you talking about? I haven't taken anything."
"Then why is it on your wrist?!"
"My ... ?" He trailed off, realizing what she was referring to. His eyes fell automatically to the morpher. *That* what was she was so furious over? If she wanted it so bad, she could *have* it.
He opened his mouth to respond, but a soft, choked sound stopped him. Heart sinking, he turned to find the last sight on Earth he'd wanted to see: Trip glaring up at him, trying desperately not to cry.
Darn. Whatever Trip had wanted believed on his own was probably being overridden by Katie's angry thoughts. "Trip, I was going to tell you," he began. "I just - "
He was cut off abruptly by the fist that slammed into his nose. Pain exploded between his eyes as his head slammed back from the force of the blow. He stumbled, hands going instinctively to cover his nose. Something wet touched them, and pain flared again as his fingers brushed it. Spots swam before his eyes, and he barely managed to force them open to look at Trip in shock.
The other boy looked horrified, but the expression faded back into anger as their eyes met. "How *could* you?" he demanded. "You - I *hate* you! I'll *never* forgive you for this!"
A cold, distant feeling settled over Alex as he watched Trip bolt from the room. He was aware of Katie's nasty glare before she followed, but he could care less.
Intellectually, he knew that Trip couldn't really hate him - research stated that Xybrians weren't capable of hate, and barely extreme dislike. Their hearts were too pure for that, and Trip was no exception. But knowing that, and hearing him say it were two different things.
Trip was supposed to know. Trip was supposed to understand. Of *everyone*, Trip was supposed to understand how much he hated the Chrono Morphers, that he would never have taken it if he had a choice.
Apparently Trip was on *his* side now, too.
His heart clenched painfully, and he brushed aside whoever was trying to reach for his nose, heading for the door. There was only one person who could have leaked the information about the Morpher. And if Kendall wanted to cause a problem, he'd get one.
He found him in the cafeteria. The person Lucas was talking to didn't even register as he headed straight for the other boy and extracted revenge. Lucas' eyes widened as he was spun around, only to have a fist smash into his face. He retaliated, and within moments they were brawling, ignoring the hands that tried to separate them.
Something sharp pressed into Alex's neck. Sedative! his instincts screamed silently, and he struggled wildly. No, no no! Get away from me! Leave me alone!
But despite his efforts, he felt his eyes slide shut.
****
Consciousness returned to find himself staring up into a familiar pair of brown eyes. The anxiety he felt faded at the sight, and he found himself getting lost in them. Then pain struck again, and he flinched. "Ow ... "
"Stop moving," Jen informed him. "You'll only make it worse." She carefully dabbed his nose with a wet cloth, then refolded it to a clean side and dabbed again.
"It hurts," he mumbled. The part of his mind that was more coherent was appalled at how whiny that had come out. What was *wrong* with him today?
"Your nose is broken - of course it hurts. We don't have time to get it taken care of yet." She seemed mildly amused.
"Broken?"
"Apparently Trip has a better right hook than he thought," she informed him.
Trip. Trip had hit him. Trip was - Trip was one of *them* now.
The thought hurt more than his nose ever could, and he tried to sit up, pushing her hands away. "I'm fine," he muttered.
"Of course you are," she retorted sarcastically, reaching for him again.
He ducked away, wincing as pain flared, and shook it off with an old sense of familiarity. Pain was nothing. Pain was just his body trying to force limits that could easily be ignored. "Stop it. I'm fine."
"Half of your face is covered in blood. Somehow I doubt that," she returned irritably. "And we're been summoned for a meeting with Captain Logan, so you need to get cleaned up."
"Meeting. Great. Of course," he muttered bitterly. Time Force at it's most inconvenient, as always.
Jen was silent for a moment. "Why didn't you tell us they gave you back the Red Chrono Morpher?" she asked suddenly, managing to let only a hint of anger into her voice.
He let out a long sigh, trying to calm his frustration. This was Jen, and she deserved to know - it was her team after all. And at least she was giving him the chance to explain. "I have no intention of using it again. Ever. The Rangers already have a capable leader and a good team. They don't need a fifth Ranger anymore. Time Force is trying to bully me into taking up my old position, but I won't. No one wants to see this thing in a museum more than me, whether you believe me or not. As for why I didn't tell the rest of you, I - " He barely caught himself from finishing the thought. I didn't have the time. I didn't want to admit I had it. I didn't want to think about it.
... I already know you won't accept me as your teammate.
"I didn't think you needed to know I had it if all it was going to be was a fancy communicator," he said finally.
"Maybe you should have let us be the judge of that," she said icily. "Here. You'd better get cleaned up." She practically threw the cloth at him, storming out of the room as he caught it on reflex.
He sat still for a moment before letting out a slow sigh. He leaned forward to rest his head between his knees for a few minutes. His nerves were still shot, from Trip's betrayal and the sedative they'd apparently used to stop his fight with Kendall. He *hated* sedatives.
"A - Alex?"
He closed his eyes for a moment at the tentative voice. "Yes?"
"I ... I'm sorry," Trip whispered. "I didn't ... I didn't mean it."
He snorted without meaning to, and winced as pain flared in his nose. "Yes, you did," he said shortly, pushing himself to his feet. He paused at a mirror to make a few cursory swipes at the blood on his face until he was clean.
"No, I didn't. I'm *really* sorry, Alex," Trip pleaded. "I - "
"You what?" he asked flatly, turning to stare at him. He ignored the tears in Trip's eyes. No matter how bad Trip felt now, it couldn't compare to how *he* felt. "You forgot? You weren't thinking? You were missing Collins too much to remember how I feel about it?"
"That's not - " Trip choked, and a few tears finally spilled over. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, *really* sorry!"
He sighed, slowly shaking his head. "Forget it, Trip," he muttered. "I get it already. If it makes you all feel any better, I'm not wearing it because I *chose* to, okay?" He turned, tossing the cloth in a bin and wondering why Jen had bothered with something so ... retro. Who actually used washcloths these days, anyway?
Force of habit probably, he realized. After a year in the past, he supposed he'd have to get used to the four of them developing weird quirks like that.
"Alex, please!"
He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. "We have a meeting, Squad Leader," he said finally. He ignored Trip's choked sobs as he made his way to Logan's office. No matter what Trip thought, there was no way he could possibly being hurting more than Alex was right now.
The other three Rangers were already waiting when he arrived, standing at attention before Logan. The chairs that were usually place in front of the captain's desk had been moved, Alex noted. Which was interesting, being that technically he and Jen were of equal rank to Logan and didn't *have* to stand in front of him like cadets waiting to be scolded. Not that Jen would; she'd never leave her team to stand alone. It was part of what made her such a good leader.
Alex moved to stand slightly apart from the rest, and didn't bother straightening to attention. He could care less right now what any of them thought of it; he was getting sick and tired of other people's opinions, other people's games. They already hated him anyway. Why was he even bothering to try and satisfy them all?
He heard Trip slip into place beside him, trying to inch closer to close the gap. He could see Katie's glare out of the corner of his eye, and ignored it.
"Glad to see you could all make it," Logan said sarcastically. His gaze zeroed in on Alex, who tried not to roll his eyes. Of course, it was all automatically *his* fault. "I gave you that morpher two hours ago Collins, and you're already getting into trouble with it. Do you have any idea what it does for Time Force to have people see its Rangers brawling like children?" he demanded.
Alex stiffened. "I am *not* a Ranger," he said darkly.
Logan glared, but he wasn't back down. "The deal was that you wear it in case of emergencies. Not that you use it as an excuse to cause trouble."
"Is that what you think I was doing?" Alex demanded incredulously. He gestured to his nose. "Yeah, I *live* for stuff like this. I told you I don't want the stupid thing, and you *made* me take it."
"And we've been over this," Logan ground out. "You are the only one capable of using that morpher, therefore it now belongs to you. That doesn't give you the excuse to act like such a child about it!"
"Acting like a child?" He laughed, a low, bitter sound. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trip's flinch. "I'm acting like a child." He shook his head, amused. "You know what? Fine. Punish me. Fire me. Whatever. I don't care anymore." He turned for the door.
"I'm not finished with you, Collins!"
"Well, I'm finished with you," he snapped back. He paused in the doorway to look back at them, shaking his head. "I'm finished with all of you. You want the Red Chrono Morpher? You can have it." He ripped it from his wrist without a second thought, throwing it at Kendall's head. "Go give it to the real Wesley Collins. His replacement quits."
He walked out, ignoring the stares at his back, and Logan's shouts.