A Darker Shade of Red (Time Force/Power Rangers, T, Chapter 26: Confronted)
For once, I have a chapter I can say I'm fairly pleased with. Finally, after all the time it took me to write it.
Fandom/: Power Rangers Time Force, slight crossover with S.P.D. (In Bright Skies universe)
Characters/: Alex
Pairings/: Alex/Jen, Lucas/Trip, Katie/OC, Wes/Eric
Rating/: T
Disclaimer/: Saban/Disney/Whoever sure didn't write *this* into the series. The plot comes purely from my own warped little mind, and the characters are merely borrowed from them for my own amusement. Lucky you.
Summary/: The legacy of Wesley Collins and Eric Myers didn't just affect the past - it affected the future. One thousand years after they became Rangers, one person is still struggling against the corruption of Time Force and the heritage he never wanted.
Warnings/: People used for scientific experimentation, corrupted Time Force, character with self-image issues
Author's Notes/: This chapter was *incredibly* hard to write, for many reasons. I hope I did this scene the justice it deserved.
The banner was supposed to have more involvement in this chapter, but I like it too much to care that it really doesn't now. ^.^V
He keyed the trace on his morpher as he ran. His eyes moved swiftly over the map it brought up, placing the four other Chrono Morphers' locations before at last finding the Quantum Morpher. Blakemore's office. Either the commander was really *stupid*, or really arrogant.
Knowing Blakemore as well as he did, he was willing to bet on arrogant.
The sound of his own breathing was harsh as he raced up the stairs. Dozens of thoughts circled through his head. Ben was alive? Time Force was being brought in. They were *finally* being brought to justice. Ben *couldn't* be alive ... could he? Was someone else using the Quantum Morpher now? Blakemore. He'd *finally* be able to put him behind bars for good. They had the evidence to put him away. All these years, and finally, *finally* ...
What he do when Time Force was gone? He'd never really thought about it before. He couldn't give away his morpher, but he didn't *have* to work for Time Force. He could leave. Do ... do something. Maybe travel. He'd have to ask the others what they thought.
He was going to have to testify.
The thought nearly stopped him, but he forced himself to stumble forward. He'd already known that. He'd known for years now that if he really wanted to bring down Time Force, bring down Bakemore and all of his associates, the scientists, *everyone*, he was going to have to stand up in front of the holojudges and tell them who he was, how he was created. He'd have to tell them everything.
*No one* knew everything. Not even the Rangers. Not even Trip or Ben.
Wes knew.
Wes had seen ... had been there. It was still strange to try and sort through the jumbled mess of memories he'd been left with, only some of which were his own, and his head tended to hurt when he tried. He had - *Wes* had a mother? She was in a care center, because she was mentally handicapped. Wes had always resented it, resented *her* for the longest time ...
He frowned as another memory filtered through. Wes had gone to *medical school*? He was trying to be a doctor?
No ... That was Dad's - Mr. Collin's dream. He'd wanted Wes to become a doctor so he could help his mother. But he - Wes - wasn't focused enough to become a doctor. He could read books and study all he wanted, but he couldn't push his feelings aside to deal with his patients. He was too much of a bleeding heart.
Eric had called him that, back when they were still barely friends.
Wes knew, even if the details were probably as fuzzy as his own about Wes' childhood. Something about loneliness, and longing, and always been pushed away. About never being good enough. The feelings behind his own memories and Wes' memories were so similar it was hard to tell which was which. They were more alike than he'd ever known.
And Wes had understood. He didn't judge, didn't cringe away or stare at Alex with pity in his eyes. He just accepted it.
But that was Wes. Not everyone else would be so understanding. Especially not a room full of people watching his every move, trying to interpret his every word. Not a room full of people that saw their Red Ranger as a hero, not a victim.
He shook his head harshly, grabbing the railing as he swung around to another staircase. There was no use worrying about a trial now. Now he needed to find Blakemore, and Ben. He needed to bring that ... he needed to bring Blakemore in. To make him pay for everything he'd done.
It was finally time.
He yanked the door open for the level he needed, barely aware of the way he panted for breath now as he raced toward the grand office at the end of the hall. He was finally here. It was time.
He grabbed the office door and yanked it open.
****
"Alexander," Blakemore greeted pleasantly, turning from the window to offer him a smile.
Alex stared at him.
Blakemore was dressed in one of his usual suits, his hair perfectly slicked back and not looking even remotely worried. If anything, he seemed ... pleased. If it wasn't for the fact that Ben was sitting in the chair across from his desk, Alex wouldn't have thought he even knew what was happening.
His eyes flicked to his brother. Ben sat up straight in the comfy office chair, turned toward Blakemore attentively. He showed no signs of their fight; if anything, he seemed healthier than before. For a moment, Alex was confused.
"So good of you to join us," Blakemore went on. He gestured to the empty chair next to Ben. "Have a seat, won't you?"
"I'll stand," Alex said flatly.
Blakemore chuckled softly. "Contrary as always, aren't you Alexander? We'll have to work on that."
His fists clenched. "We're not working on anything. You're under arrest."
Blakemore laughed.
It was then that he noticed the way Ben's hands clenched on the arms of the chair. His breathing was fast, eyes wide and frightened. They remained on Alex even as he faced forward, silently pleading.
"Your sense of humor, as always, leaves something to be desired, Alexander," Blakemore mused, reaching for the glass of what looked like wine sitting on the edge of his desk.
"What did you do to him?" he demanded softly, moving closer to his brother.
"Hmm? Oh, Benjamin. We had a disagreement about the way things were handled. This is really far messier than I had planned, so I'm afraid I had to punish him."
"Planned?" Alex echoed, a cold feeling developing in his stomach.
Blakemore shot him an amused look. "You didn't really think I didn't know about this little rebellion, did you?" He laughed, gesturing wide with his glass. "All of this is my doing. I allowed this to happen. Benjamin has been my tool all along."
He almost believed him.
He might have, if the sound of Ben's frantic breathing hadn't reached his ears. His brother had paled, his eyes desperate as he made a soft whimpering sound. His teeth clenched, and he struggled to speak.
Alex put a hand on his wrist, squeezing gently even as he kept his eyes on Blakemore. "You *planned* to have Time Force investigated?" He couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
Blakemore laughed again, this time open and amused. "Of course I did!" He shook his head, grinning in a way that sent shivers down Alex's spine. "What better way to regain control? Let the police come in and take out the 'old' Time Force, clean things up a bit. Take out the board of directors, the old staff, everyone involved in the old projects. Let the public think that we're 'new and improved'. And then ... " He shook his finger at Alex. "That's when we start recruiting again. Remind people what Time Force is *really* about."
"And what's that?" Alex asked, his voice like ice.
"Progress," Blakemore returned promptly. "Creating the world the way *we* want it. Time Force has shaped the public's opinion on the past and present. We've created their idea of right and wrong. Time Force is what keeps this planet in check."
He stared at him. "You honestly believe that? You - you're *torturing* people, hiding information about our history, and you think it's *right*?!"
Blakemore scoffed. "Torturing? Is that what you think it is we do? We're *curing* people, Alexander. Sure, there's going to be some suffering along the way - that's just part of the scientific process. But by working to eliminate mutated genes, we're protecting people, protecting their futures. And who cares about a bunch of criminals anyway? Better them than some poor, honest citizen, right?"
His fists clenched. "And me? Ben, and Trip?"
Blakemore glanced at him curiously. "Isn't it obvious? You and Benjamin were necessary for maintaining the timeline. History has documented the existence of the Time Force and Quantum Rangers. We needed you to ensure that happened. As for the Xybrian, he *is* one of the last of his kind. How else were we supposed to learn about his species?"
He was shaking now, but he couldn't seem to stop. "Why have you been hiding information about the past, then? Like the Time Force and Wild Force Rangers meeting?"
Surprisingly, Blakemore seemed pleased by the question. "Well, we couldn't just *tell* you everything, now could we? You have to work for things. Like that thing ... " He waved a hand. "The death of the Red Time Force Ranger. You needed false information to figure out the best way to handle the situation."
He stared. "You mean you lied about Wes' death?"
Blakemore shrugged. "Well, he's going to die someday, isn't he?"
His hands hurt from clenching them so tightly. Beside him, he heard Ben whimper faintly again. "What did you do to my brother?" he asked lowly.
Blakemore shrugged lightly. "Just a minor adjustment we placed in his morpher before he was revived. Produces an electric current when Benjamin needs ... reminding, of where his loyalties lie."
Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own breathing. The world seemed to blur for a moment before refocusing with a strange red tint. He didn't remember moving. All he knew was that his hand was around Blakemore's throat, and Blakemore was leaning out what had once been a window.
Blakemore laughed at him, despite the fact that his face was pale and something red was sticking to his hair. "Come now, Alexander. Aren't you a little old for temper tantrums?" he wheezed.
"You hurt my brother," he hissed, his fist clenching as he pushed Blakemore further out the window. "You hurt my friends. You made me hate the man that I should admire most in the world. You made me feel *worthless* my entire life!"
"I made you strong," Blakemore forced out. One of his hands came up to grip Alex's as he managed a smile. "You, are the ultimate Ranger, Alexander. You exist to protect. That ... is all you've ever needed."
"How would you know what I've needed?" he snarled back. "All you've *ever* cared about is how much I can do for you! How hard I can fight! I'm just your replacement for Wesley Collins, remember?!"
Blakemore made an odd choking noise as his hand clenched tighter.
"You don't care about people! You care about results!" he raged. "People are *suffering* for your 'cures', and you don't care as long as you can 'fix' them from being what they are! As long you can make them into what you want, you don't care about how much they get hurt! How much *pain* they go through!"
The corner of Blakemore's mouth twitched faintly. "You ... are everything ... I raised you to be ... Alexander .... " he whispered, his grip on Alex's hand slipping. "The perfect ... son .... "
"You are *not* my father!" Alex screamed.
He heard something shatter, felt Blakemore turn into a dead weight in his hand. There was cold air on his face, and a roaring sound in his ears. The world went white.
The next thing he was aware of was a pair of thin, warm arms around him.
"Alex?" a voice whispered in his ear. "Alex, stop. Put him down. Just bring him back inside, and put him down. This isn't the way to fix things, Alex. You *know* that."
"He ... " he gasped out, trying to find the words to say what he was feeling. His chest felt like it was on fire. "He - "
"I know," the voice soothed, and a hand stroked his cheek, brushing away tears he hadn't even known were there. "I know. He deserves to suffer for what he's done. And he *will*. But not like this. Not like this."
He sobbed. "I can't ... I can't .... "
"Yes, you can," the voice insisted gently. "I know you can. This isn't you, Alex. This is what he's done to you."
"I ... " he wavered. "I'm ... "
"Put him down, Alex. Please? Just put him down."
Hands closed around his, pulling gently, dragging his arm back inside and Blakemore along with it. Blakemore had lost consciousness, he noted dimly. Was that blood on the back of his head?
Another hand reached up to cup his cheek, gently pulling his face around to stare into warm, loving brown eyes.
"Jen," he choked out.
He collapsed into her arms.
Fandom/: Power Rangers Time Force, slight crossover with S.P.D. (In Bright Skies universe)
Characters/: Alex
Pairings/: Alex/Jen, Lucas/Trip, Katie/OC, Wes/Eric
Rating/: T
Disclaimer/: Saban/Disney/Whoever sure didn't write *this* into the series. The plot comes purely from my own warped little mind, and the characters are merely borrowed from them for my own amusement. Lucky you.
Summary/: The legacy of Wesley Collins and Eric Myers didn't just affect the past - it affected the future. One thousand years after they became Rangers, one person is still struggling against the corruption of Time Force and the heritage he never wanted.
Warnings/: People used for scientific experimentation, corrupted Time Force, character with self-image issues
Author's Notes/: This chapter was *incredibly* hard to write, for many reasons. I hope I did this scene the justice it deserved.
The banner was supposed to have more involvement in this chapter, but I like it too much to care that it really doesn't now. ^.^V
He keyed the trace on his morpher as he ran. His eyes moved swiftly over the map it brought up, placing the four other Chrono Morphers' locations before at last finding the Quantum Morpher. Blakemore's office. Either the commander was really *stupid*, or really arrogant.
Knowing Blakemore as well as he did, he was willing to bet on arrogant.
The sound of his own breathing was harsh as he raced up the stairs. Dozens of thoughts circled through his head. Ben was alive? Time Force was being brought in. They were *finally* being brought to justice. Ben *couldn't* be alive ... could he? Was someone else using the Quantum Morpher now? Blakemore. He'd *finally* be able to put him behind bars for good. They had the evidence to put him away. All these years, and finally, *finally* ...
What he do when Time Force was gone? He'd never really thought about it before. He couldn't give away his morpher, but he didn't *have* to work for Time Force. He could leave. Do ... do something. Maybe travel. He'd have to ask the others what they thought.
He was going to have to testify.
The thought nearly stopped him, but he forced himself to stumble forward. He'd already known that. He'd known for years now that if he really wanted to bring down Time Force, bring down Bakemore and all of his associates, the scientists, *everyone*, he was going to have to stand up in front of the holojudges and tell them who he was, how he was created. He'd have to tell them everything.
*No one* knew everything. Not even the Rangers. Not even Trip or Ben.
Wes knew.
Wes had seen ... had been there. It was still strange to try and sort through the jumbled mess of memories he'd been left with, only some of which were his own, and his head tended to hurt when he tried. He had - *Wes* had a mother? She was in a care center, because she was mentally handicapped. Wes had always resented it, resented *her* for the longest time ...
He frowned as another memory filtered through. Wes had gone to *medical school*? He was trying to be a doctor?
No ... That was Dad's - Mr. Collin's dream. He'd wanted Wes to become a doctor so he could help his mother. But he - Wes - wasn't focused enough to become a doctor. He could read books and study all he wanted, but he couldn't push his feelings aside to deal with his patients. He was too much of a bleeding heart.
Eric had called him that, back when they were still barely friends.
Wes knew, even if the details were probably as fuzzy as his own about Wes' childhood. Something about loneliness, and longing, and always been pushed away. About never being good enough. The feelings behind his own memories and Wes' memories were so similar it was hard to tell which was which. They were more alike than he'd ever known.
And Wes had understood. He didn't judge, didn't cringe away or stare at Alex with pity in his eyes. He just accepted it.
But that was Wes. Not everyone else would be so understanding. Especially not a room full of people watching his every move, trying to interpret his every word. Not a room full of people that saw their Red Ranger as a hero, not a victim.
He shook his head harshly, grabbing the railing as he swung around to another staircase. There was no use worrying about a trial now. Now he needed to find Blakemore, and Ben. He needed to bring that ... he needed to bring Blakemore in. To make him pay for everything he'd done.
It was finally time.
He yanked the door open for the level he needed, barely aware of the way he panted for breath now as he raced toward the grand office at the end of the hall. He was finally here. It was time.
He grabbed the office door and yanked it open.
****
"Alexander," Blakemore greeted pleasantly, turning from the window to offer him a smile.
Alex stared at him.
Blakemore was dressed in one of his usual suits, his hair perfectly slicked back and not looking even remotely worried. If anything, he seemed ... pleased. If it wasn't for the fact that Ben was sitting in the chair across from his desk, Alex wouldn't have thought he even knew what was happening.
His eyes flicked to his brother. Ben sat up straight in the comfy office chair, turned toward Blakemore attentively. He showed no signs of their fight; if anything, he seemed healthier than before. For a moment, Alex was confused.
"So good of you to join us," Blakemore went on. He gestured to the empty chair next to Ben. "Have a seat, won't you?"
"I'll stand," Alex said flatly.
Blakemore chuckled softly. "Contrary as always, aren't you Alexander? We'll have to work on that."
His fists clenched. "We're not working on anything. You're under arrest."
Blakemore laughed.
It was then that he noticed the way Ben's hands clenched on the arms of the chair. His breathing was fast, eyes wide and frightened. They remained on Alex even as he faced forward, silently pleading.
"Your sense of humor, as always, leaves something to be desired, Alexander," Blakemore mused, reaching for the glass of what looked like wine sitting on the edge of his desk.
"What did you do to him?" he demanded softly, moving closer to his brother.
"Hmm? Oh, Benjamin. We had a disagreement about the way things were handled. This is really far messier than I had planned, so I'm afraid I had to punish him."
"Planned?" Alex echoed, a cold feeling developing in his stomach.
Blakemore shot him an amused look. "You didn't really think I didn't know about this little rebellion, did you?" He laughed, gesturing wide with his glass. "All of this is my doing. I allowed this to happen. Benjamin has been my tool all along."
He almost believed him.
He might have, if the sound of Ben's frantic breathing hadn't reached his ears. His brother had paled, his eyes desperate as he made a soft whimpering sound. His teeth clenched, and he struggled to speak.
Alex put a hand on his wrist, squeezing gently even as he kept his eyes on Blakemore. "You *planned* to have Time Force investigated?" He couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice.
Blakemore laughed again, this time open and amused. "Of course I did!" He shook his head, grinning in a way that sent shivers down Alex's spine. "What better way to regain control? Let the police come in and take out the 'old' Time Force, clean things up a bit. Take out the board of directors, the old staff, everyone involved in the old projects. Let the public think that we're 'new and improved'. And then ... " He shook his finger at Alex. "That's when we start recruiting again. Remind people what Time Force is *really* about."
"And what's that?" Alex asked, his voice like ice.
"Progress," Blakemore returned promptly. "Creating the world the way *we* want it. Time Force has shaped the public's opinion on the past and present. We've created their idea of right and wrong. Time Force is what keeps this planet in check."
He stared at him. "You honestly believe that? You - you're *torturing* people, hiding information about our history, and you think it's *right*?!"
Blakemore scoffed. "Torturing? Is that what you think it is we do? We're *curing* people, Alexander. Sure, there's going to be some suffering along the way - that's just part of the scientific process. But by working to eliminate mutated genes, we're protecting people, protecting their futures. And who cares about a bunch of criminals anyway? Better them than some poor, honest citizen, right?"
His fists clenched. "And me? Ben, and Trip?"
Blakemore glanced at him curiously. "Isn't it obvious? You and Benjamin were necessary for maintaining the timeline. History has documented the existence of the Time Force and Quantum Rangers. We needed you to ensure that happened. As for the Xybrian, he *is* one of the last of his kind. How else were we supposed to learn about his species?"
He was shaking now, but he couldn't seem to stop. "Why have you been hiding information about the past, then? Like the Time Force and Wild Force Rangers meeting?"
Surprisingly, Blakemore seemed pleased by the question. "Well, we couldn't just *tell* you everything, now could we? You have to work for things. Like that thing ... " He waved a hand. "The death of the Red Time Force Ranger. You needed false information to figure out the best way to handle the situation."
He stared. "You mean you lied about Wes' death?"
Blakemore shrugged. "Well, he's going to die someday, isn't he?"
His hands hurt from clenching them so tightly. Beside him, he heard Ben whimper faintly again. "What did you do to my brother?" he asked lowly.
Blakemore shrugged lightly. "Just a minor adjustment we placed in his morpher before he was revived. Produces an electric current when Benjamin needs ... reminding, of where his loyalties lie."
Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own breathing. The world seemed to blur for a moment before refocusing with a strange red tint. He didn't remember moving. All he knew was that his hand was around Blakemore's throat, and Blakemore was leaning out what had once been a window.
Blakemore laughed at him, despite the fact that his face was pale and something red was sticking to his hair. "Come now, Alexander. Aren't you a little old for temper tantrums?" he wheezed.
"You hurt my brother," he hissed, his fist clenching as he pushed Blakemore further out the window. "You hurt my friends. You made me hate the man that I should admire most in the world. You made me feel *worthless* my entire life!"
"I made you strong," Blakemore forced out. One of his hands came up to grip Alex's as he managed a smile. "You, are the ultimate Ranger, Alexander. You exist to protect. That ... is all you've ever needed."
"How would you know what I've needed?" he snarled back. "All you've *ever* cared about is how much I can do for you! How hard I can fight! I'm just your replacement for Wesley Collins, remember?!"
Blakemore made an odd choking noise as his hand clenched tighter.
"You don't care about people! You care about results!" he raged. "People are *suffering* for your 'cures', and you don't care as long as you can 'fix' them from being what they are! As long you can make them into what you want, you don't care about how much they get hurt! How much *pain* they go through!"
The corner of Blakemore's mouth twitched faintly. "You ... are everything ... I raised you to be ... Alexander .... " he whispered, his grip on Alex's hand slipping. "The perfect ... son .... "
"You are *not* my father!" Alex screamed.
He heard something shatter, felt Blakemore turn into a dead weight in his hand. There was cold air on his face, and a roaring sound in his ears. The world went white.
The next thing he was aware of was a pair of thin, warm arms around him.
"Alex?" a voice whispered in his ear. "Alex, stop. Put him down. Just bring him back inside, and put him down. This isn't the way to fix things, Alex. You *know* that."
"He ... " he gasped out, trying to find the words to say what he was feeling. His chest felt like it was on fire. "He - "
"I know," the voice soothed, and a hand stroked his cheek, brushing away tears he hadn't even known were there. "I know. He deserves to suffer for what he's done. And he *will*. But not like this. Not like this."
He sobbed. "I can't ... I can't .... "
"Yes, you can," the voice insisted gently. "I know you can. This isn't you, Alex. This is what he's done to you."
"I ... " he wavered. "I'm ... "
"Put him down, Alex. Please? Just put him down."
Hands closed around his, pulling gently, dragging his arm back inside and Blakemore along with it. Blakemore had lost consciousness, he noted dimly. Was that blood on the back of his head?
Another hand reached up to cup his cheek, gently pulling his face around to stare into warm, loving brown eyes.
"Jen," he choked out.
He collapsed into her arms.