Tommy rested his hands against the steering wheel of his jeep, staring out the windshield at the spaceship that had carried ten red rangers to the moon and back. Somehow he always found his way back to this…to the power. Or maybe it was the power that kept finding him.

Still, it had been years since the last time he'd morphed…he'd almost forgotten. The surge of pure energy coursing through his every cell in the moment when that light encased his body before the ranger armor settled into place with the familiar tingle of a faint electric charge.

Familiar…that wasn't even the word for it.

You go without something for so long…eventually you almost forget how bad you need it. To get it back again…just one more time…

There was a time, when he was 18 and still in the thick of it all, that he'd wondered if he'd ever be able to walk away. Not the uncertainty of facing a battle with evil that knows no end because evil has no end…the sick bewilderment of not knowing if this has become your drug…your addiction.

He proved he could walk away from it, that the control it had over his life only extended as far as he allowed it. But today proved something too. You can never walk far enough...to not be called back.

And the strangest thing was…he was ok with that. With all of it. Oh there were still some old regrets that might never get laid to rest without something unexpectedly digging them up again…but on a whole? The dust from the past had settled enough to take a good look at it and he was content with what he saw.

His career as a ranger was long and colorful, in more ways then one. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. But he didn't regret leaving it behind. The sudden absence of the weight of the world, or at least the responsibility of protecting it, from his shoulders made him felt like he could fly up and touch the stars if he wanted. Nothing was out of reach anymore.

Racing for his uncle, working for Lightspeed, becoming a landlord, traveling, college, his forthcoming degree, it had been a rich and varied seven years.

And he didn't regret coming back ether. How could he? Standing beside his brothers in arms, leading them into battle, that was a precious honor. Something inside had clicked back into place in that moment, a sensation of being complete he hadn't realized was missing. He hoped the feeling lingered for a little while even as he was leaving this behind again.

But he had a strange feeling that it would only be a matter time…the call would come again. A siren song leading him back to the power. And he was okay with that too. It was a tether he would never willingly sever. And if he never felt that familiar tug again…

"Tommy? Are you alright?"

He jumped, more at the hand on his shoulder the voice. TJ stood outside his jeep, studying his predecessor with a concerned frown. Tommy let out a long breath, "Yeah, I'm alright."

TJ didn't look convinced, "The way you booked it out of there, we all assumed you had someplace important to be. Somehow the parking lot didn't quite make it onto our list…" he let it trail off, giving Tommy a chance to provide an answer without needing to ask the question.

"I just…needed a minute alone…put things back in perspective."

"Well you've had your minute." He tugged on Tommy's leather jacket, "Come on…we're hitting the nearest bar."

Tommy let that sink in. Ten red rangers, going out on the town…"Is that a good idea?"

The Turbo ranger grinned, "Of course it isn't. Let's go!"

Tommy sighed and shoved his keys back in his pocket, hiding a smile as he let T.J. practically drag him out of the jeep and back towards the other rangers. This could only end with someone getting thrown in jail by the end of the night…

.o.o.o.o.o.

I hate it when I'm right…

The thought was followed by a sigh as Wes shoved Eric off their bench, the silver guardian toppling to the floor with about as much grace as a sack of potatoes. Eric kicked futilely at his co-commander's leg, but the alcohol in his blood was dulling his senses to the point that the bench leg was all that caught the half hearted retaliation.

Sure, it had started innocently enough…a few drinks and some good natured bragging. Then…then the inevitable "who's a better fighter" debate began.

A couple "prove it" comments, one broken table, and three very pissed off bikers later…the place just kind of erupted. Nothing gets the testosterone pumping quite like a good old fashioned bar brawl. The cops took one look at the utter mayhem they walked into and opted to arrest everyone in the bar and sort the whole mess out later.

Tommy leaned back against the metal bars of the holding cell they'd been unceremoniously dumped into, shifting his shoulders in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Someone had broken a pool cue over his back towards the height of the brawl when things we really getting interesting. He hadn't seen who it was but Jason kept shooting him guilty looks every time Tommy winced or shifted position, what he was sure was becoming a rather spectacular bruise making it difficult to find a comfortable way to sit. Or stand. Or lay down. There weren't exactly pillows in here.

"This is all your fault ya know," Eric slurred from the floor.

"Me?" Wes scoffed, "I'm not the one who punched a cop!"

"Thought it was TJ…"

The red Turbo ranger sputtered, "…that guy was white!!"

"What's your point?"

Tommy shook his head and tried not to grin. He should be upset that they had dragged him into this disaster; he'd felt it in his gut that it wouldn't end well. But at this point all he wanted to do was sit back and laugh at it all. It wasn't every day you got to see the best of the best piss drunk. And sitting in jail, deprived of their weapons, belts, and shoelaces. This was nothing short of epic. A story they'd be telling for years.

"Look at the bright side…" Cole piped up from his corner where he was nursing a black eye, "at least now we don't have to pay for a hotel room!" He had to duck when Wes threw his boot at him, the military issue footwear, minus the confiscated laces, clanging against the bars and dropping onto Cole's head.

"Nobody likes an optimist, kid."

Laughter bordering on the hysterical bubbled from the concrete floor. Eric was clutching his stomach helplessly, "This…this coming from you??" he gasped. "Oh that's rich…truly rich!"

"Shut up…" Wes grumbled, kicking his partner's leg.

This had to be one of the most amusing things about their situation. Other then Andros getting his ass kicked by a biker chick of course. Wes and Eric's personalities completely switched when they started drinking. Wes got sarcastic and irritable. Eric got…reflective and absurdly easygoing. Tommy liked him. They had shared a bottle of scotch and mourned the loss of the Dragonzord and the Quantasaurus Rex.

.o.o.o.o.o.

"Man, I loved that zord."

"Oh shove it," Eric grumbled, spinning his shot glass on the bar like a top. "You've been going off about that stupid zord and being evil and losing your powers and every other crap hole you wound up in as a ranger."

"Do you even have a heart, Eric?" Tommy bit back, starting to feel the effects of their heavy toasting.

"I'm buying the next bottle. Of course I have a heart." Eric took a long swallow of scotch. He set the glass back down with a thunk and gave it one last spin before sighing and clapping Tommy on the shoulder with a heavy hand, "Annnd…I know how you feel. I miss the Quantasaurus too. The others don't get it. They can't understand what it's like to lose your partner like that. Not destroyed…just…"

"Out of reach." Tommy finished. "Underwater…"

"Underground…"

Tommy sighed and poured them both another shot. He raised his glass, "To the Q-Rex."

Eric clinked his glass against Tommy's, "To the Dragonzord. May they rest in peace."

.o.o.o.o.

Of course then they'd started debating who would have won if they'd ever fought each other and that kind of ruined the moment. He still liked the brooding Quantum ranger though. He'd proved himself an impressive fighter on the moon and even drunk as a skunk and Tommy was practically giddy at the thought of sparring with him once that scotch wore off.

"Dammit!" Andros exclaimed, twisting to peer at the elbow of his torn sleeve, "She really bit me!"

"Hold still!" Carter demanded and continued picking glass out of his long hair. "I can't believe that chick broke a beer bottle over your head. You're lucky you don't have a concussion."

"Don't worry, as Ashley could tell you he has a very hard head." T.J. smirked at his former teammate.

Andros growled and started to advance on him, "I oughta tear off your—"

"Hold still!!" Carter snagged the back of his shirt and jerked him back. "Why weren't you this sober for the fight? You couldn't even throw a punch, the police had to drag you in here because you couldn't stand, and now you're ready to kill TJ? Man, your timing sucks."

"Um," Andros waved a hand, "Hi, remember me? The alien? I can't help it if earth's fermented beverages go through my system differently then yours. Now fermented chibba fruit from KO-35 is another story…that is a drink."

Leo nodded enthusiastically, one hand still clutching his sore jaw that sported an impressive purpling bruise. "That stuff will knock your socks off! You should have brought some with you man!"

"Excuse me if I was more preoccupied with saving your lousy planet then bringing you booze."

"Technically it's not my planet anymore." The Galaxy ranger pointed out.

"Don't split hairs."

"Wait…lousy???"

"I think that knock to your head killed a few too many brain cells…" Aurico's echoing voice was slightly muffled from within the folds of the hoodie they'd insisted he wear to conceal his alien features. Not to mention the large hat underneath it. That had been interesting…trying to convince the police he had a skin disease that couldn't be exposed to the sun AND an eye condition that necessitated wearing tinted glasses at all times AND that he was a mute. Carter had tried to give him a crash course in sign language in case anyone questioned it but gave up and told him to fake it. Which he did. Quite elaborately. So they told the cops he also had a past head injury made him "a bit off".

"I'm still trying to picture Tommy on the side of the highway, in full morph, changing Red Lightning's tire." The amused voice drifted from the floor where Jason reclined with his feet up on the bars, looking too comfortable then anyone on concrete had any right to be. "I would have paid a lot of money to see that."

Tommy groaned. Somehow his intuition had failed him when it came to swapping "most embarrassing ranger moment" stories. That had been a bad idea. Turning it into a drinking game had been a worse one.

.o.o.o.o.

"And then…then Mike tries to pull me out…and he gets stuck too!! We had to stay like that, with Karone trapped between us in a very compromising position, for over an hour! By the time the rest of the team found a way to get the galactabeasts into that hole…that overgrown lizard had gone from trying to eat us…to thinking we were its young! Maya had to stun it before we could claw out way out of that ooze."

Andros was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. "So that's why my sister's scared of lizards!! I could never understand it!" He wiped his eyes and tried to catch his breath, "Hoo boy…ten! Definite ten."

"Pfft…Carter's was better. Five."

"Eight"

"Ten."

"Two."

"Cheapskate."

"Shut up, Wes."

"Ten."

Aurico held up seven gloved fingers.

"Eight."

"I give that a six."

"Ok somebody round it out."

Tommy scribbled on a napkin and frowned down at the equation, "That doesn't seem right…"

"Gimme." Jason snatched up the beerstained napkin only to have it nabbed by T.J.

"After the score you just got, leave the math to someone less drunk then you." He studied the napkin and altered one number. "Seven."

The rangers hooted and lined up seven shots for Leo.

"Bottoms up!"

.o.o.o.o.o.

Tommy blamed the scotch for his lapse in judgement. Although the ridicule of his fellow rangers was well worth the mental image of Carter salsa dancing with Col. Mitchell.

"Will you cut it out???!!" Wes exploded, jumping to his feet only to stagger and drop down again. Apparently Eric had been poking him in the leg for an untold amount of time. The Quantum ranger's dark chuckle turned into a yelp and uncoordinated scramble to escape Wes' other boot. Tommy had to make his own dive for cover as Wes overshot his target, his back loudly protesting the abrupt motion. And the fact that he landed on top of Jason, driving all the air from his teammate's lungs.

The cell erupted in fits of laughter as they tried to disentangle each other, leaden limbs making it difficult. Finally Jason flipped him off, conveniently forgetting they were on concrete and not a sparring mat. Luckily Cole broke his fall. And possibly his wrist as well.

If Zordon could see us now…

well he probably would have high tailed his interdimensional ass out of there the moment Jason started dancing on the bar.