A\N: Grr. This is reposted because someone (no names) pointed out that my first concept was both half-baked and ignored main issues. Therefore, you guys get a whole new version of this! I hate it when that happens. Thanks for pointing it out, though, Unnamed Reveiwer!

JEN

Alex.

I pause. "Um...Wes. Go back to training."

"You okay?" Wes asks. "I mean, that's the third time today--"

"Train! Now!" I bark.

I storm away, hearing Katie and Trip start whispering again.

Ice Queen. Bitch. Hardassed chick.

I've earned those names. I've earned them a hundred times. There's ice where my heart should be, a stone-cold pit--

No. I can't think. Thinking hurts.

Never, ever think. Just do the job in front of you, Jen.

Don't think.

Wes runs after me. Of course he does, the guy's a Red Ranger. They're so overprotective of their teammates it's a wonder anything happens at all.

"Jen?"

In an age of plastic surgery, I chose to keep my natural body, all the reminder I have of my unbroken family.

"Jen." No question. Commanding tone. Who does he think he is to command me?

The words jolt me back to my roots, my childhood house.

Who do they think they are, to command me? To tell me what to do?

"Jen, we need to talk."

"No, we don't, rich boy." I snap. Always snapping, always angry. That's me.

"You oughta lighten up, Jenny! Have some fun, hunh?"

My smile. "We do have jobs, Steelix."

"What good will training do if we aren't a team, Jen?"

I stop.

The sucker punch. Damn, Wes, you don't play fair, do you? Not like my other teammates, letting me be. Well, except Steelix...but look how that turned out.

"What?" I grit out.

"I'm not Alex."

I blink.

"Every time you look at me, you see Alex. I'm not Alex. I'm Wes." Wes smiles wryly. "Sorry, Jen. I mean, I know Alex dying must've screwed you up, but you can't keep taking it out on us."

"It's not Alex." I say before I can stop myself. "That just pushed me over the edge."

I shut my mouth. Haven't I said enough?

Wes pauses. "Jen? Um...is this about Steelix?"

"No, Wes." I've lost my temper. Great. "This is not about Steelix, or Alex, or anything else."

"What's it about, then?"

I sigh. "No. I'm not telling you. You don't need to know."

Wes grins cockily.

Oh, damn.

I'm in for it, aren't I?

I guess I should've seen this coming.

It's been two days. Two days.

"Wes." I manage not to scream. "If you do not stop pestering me I will kick your sorry butt from here to tomorrow."

"I'll stop when you tell me." Wes actually manages to sound like a five-year-old.

I sigh, then glance around.

I'm desperate.

"It just...it got to be too much." I explain. "My parents didn't work together too well. Then I joined Time Force and Steelix betrayed me. Alex died, and now I have you to deal with."

"What's wrong with me?" Wes looks wounded. "Well, okay, besides the annoying thing, but I've only been doing that for two days."

I manage to keep from tearing up as I repeat the instructor's words. "Children of broken families are no good in the field. They think with their hearts instead of their heads."

Wes has the grace to not laugh at me. Instead he just snorts.

I hit him. Hard.

He winces, rubbing his arm. "Owww! Thanks!" He shakes his head. "Jen, I don't know where you learned that, but it's bull. I know it's hard, but I'm not exactly the worst fighter in the world."

"Are you?" I demand, walking away.

Life never has easy awnsers. Just painful, humiliating admissions.

God, I hate myself.

It is way, way too late to be up.

Why is there a drawing on my pillow?

I pick it up, my eyes drinking it in. Art is one of my secret loves.

It's a childish picture of a boy and his father and mother, standing in front of a house.

The mother has a gun to her head. She's smiling as she's pulling the trigger.

On the back it says, Not so different after all, Jen.

I sigh, putting away the picture.

Tomorrow, Wes and I need to talk.

And maybe I'll listen for a change.