Bandages at Bedtime

AN: Wrote this a little while ago, but, for some reason, never got round to posting it. Anyway, thought I'd better stick it up anyway, just as confirmation of my xistance, since real life in general has stopped me posting anything lately. Getting back into Power Rangers while Stargate is on it's mid-season break, and, for some reason (since I was never very fond of Lightspeed Rescue) found those very rangers wondering around in my head, demanding to be written for in the conetext of SPD. IE: Where are they twenty odd years after they hung up their morphers? This is an attempt to portray realistic married life for a post-ranger couple. I might write a sequel or companion piece or a couple more vingnettes, again, real-life permitting. Please leave reviews! (Tell me if you want more, man.) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. If I did, the rangers would spend all their time actually developing 3D personalities and about five seconds of screen time would be devoted to the inter-galactic polysteriene monsters they fight daily; not the other way round.

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"Carter, you should have stayed at the hospital," Dana Mitchell-Greyson was knelt up on the bed, inspecting the burns on her husband's hands, "these aren't good."

"They're burns, Dana. Burns are never good," Carter pointed out, "besides, I wanted to eat. I never get to have lunch with you and the kids any more."

"So take some time out," Dana selected a roll of cotton from the various medical paraphernalia strewn out on the sheets besides them, "you don't just wrap up second degree burns and say 'I'll see about them later'. You're no use to us martyred."

"They're not that serious," Carter argued.

Dana raised her eyebrows. Taking hold of his wrists, she lifted up his palms, "you don't call these serious?"

"Ahh…" Carter shrugged awkwardly.

"I am a doctor, Carter," Dana reminded him, "you can't fool me. You could barely pick up a fork this afternoon. By the looks of these, you'll need someone to do most of anything you do with your hands for the next couple of weeks for you."
Carter grinned, "are you volunteering?"

"Shut up."

He was silent as he watched Dana smear ointment onto the burns, then gently begin to wrap them in cotton.The odd, sticky sollution stung, but not nearly as much as the look his wife had in her eyes.This was a ritual that was strung through-out their married life (and for sometime before it as well). He'd come home with burns; she'd admonish him for being such an idiot, and wrap them up.

"You think these'll scar?" He asked, eventually.

Dana finished his left hand, and reached out to touch the scarring that already crawled up one side of his neck, "not as badly as these."

"Manly war scars, huh?" Carter laughed, but Dana didn't smile.

She sat back on her heals, her blue eyes creased with concern, "I worry about you, Carter."

"Don't."

She shook her head, and began to wrap up his other hand, "if something happens to you-"

"Which it wont-"

"But if it does, Carter… I don't know what I'll do."

"Sweetheart," Carter sighed. They'd had this conversation several times already. It never ended well. "This is what I do. You know that. I'd no more give it up than you would give up working at SPD."

"That's different," Dana eyed him coolly, "the only danger there is Sydney Drew throwing a tantrum because she's scared of needles."

"Yeah but-"

"I know, I know, it's never going to change," Dana ran a hand through her hair, "doesn't mean I have to like it."

Carter picked at the half done bandage on his hand, morose. When Dana wasn't happy, it effected everyone. She was the emotional rudder of the entire family. He couldn't give up who he was… but he couldn't bare the way his wife looked at him at times like these. "I'm… I'm owed some time off," he offered, after a while.

"You'll need it anyway," Dana pointed out, "no more fires for you for a while, not with these hands."

"No, I mean," Carter put one of the injured hands in question on Dana's shoulder, "I could take a few months out. Go help out at the SPD academy with Kelsey, or something."

Dana grabbed her husband's pyjama shirt and kissed him, warm and gentle. Carter returned it, glad of the feel of her so close against him.

"I'm guessing that idea's approved," he remarked, when she finally let go of him.

"Mmm," Dana took the hand she hadn't finished bandaging. "Promise you'll take some time off?"

Carter pulled her closer and hugged her tight, "promise."