Any others you don't recognize are mine.
Rated R : Strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.
This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.
Obviously what the world needs is a good Wes/Eric slash - and the idea settled into my head and refuses to leave until I write it, so here goes. My first and perhaps only slash story. Please let me know what you think.
He dreamed of Jen, at first. Of kissing her, the way he never had in real life. Of her body in his arms, the soft cloud of her brown hair, her voice murmuring love in his ear. The clothes between them vanishing magically, her silky skin under his hands... and suddenly the dream shifted, became darker, they were in a large space, the ceiling high over them, light shining dimly through a giant clock face, falling over their naked bodies... and the face raised to his was square and handsome, short black hair, black almond eyes looking into his, glazed with passion... the strong arms around him, the hands touching him, the hard body pressed to his, were most definitely male...
Wes Collins woke, heart hammering, guilt struggling with arousal. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the dream to fade, and glanced at the clock. Almost time to get up, anyway. He could get to work early for once. He shook his head, dismissing the images of the night, locking them away, denying them. It was only a dream, only the replay of an unwanted memory, one he never allowed into his conscious thoughts. It didn't have to mean anything.
The day started well enough. A nice day, sunny and mild, only a few clouds skidding across the sky, a hint of the rainstorm to come. Wes arrived at Bio-Lab early, a minor accomplishment, but it added to his good mood as he strode through the doors and down the hallway toward his office, exchanging smiles and nods with the people he passed.
It was a special day, after all, even if it made no real difference in any practical way. His one-year anniversary as co-commander of the Silver Guardians. A year since he had started at this job. Just a little over a year now since Jen, Trip, Lucas, and Katie had left. Briefly he wondered what they were doing… what Jen was doing, separated from him by so much time, then pushed the thought away. A year. He still missed her sometimes, still thought about her. But he had accepted reality. She was never coming back, and his life would go on without her.
The sight of a pile of paperwork waiting on his desk dampened his spirits a bit. He was standing with his back to the door, shuffling through it, when a voice startled him.
"Morning."
He turned, smiling after a moment at the man standing in his doorway. A man wearing the same uniform as his, about his height and build, but with an Asian cast to his dark eyes and black-haired where Wes was blond and blue-eyed. "Morning, Eric," he said in greeting. "What's up?"
"Nothing special." Eric leaned against the side of the door, folding his arms. "Today's your anniversary, isn't it?"
"A year since I started, yeah."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks." Wes turned back to his desk. "Sometimes I'm surprised I made it this far."
"I'm not. You have the ability, and you've worked hard."
Wes turned to look at him again in surprise, seeing only a deliberately blank look. A compliment from Eric was unusual and unexpected. And it felt good, he realized. With another smile he said, "Thanks!" and added rather awkwardly, "I owe a lot of it to you."
And the Eric he was used to was back as he grinned and said, "Bet your ass, rich boy."
Wes matched his grin and picked up the stack of paper from his desk. "Tell me the truth, you've been pushing all the paperwork onto me, haven't you?"
"Rank has its privileges."
"But we're supposed to be equals."
"Yeah. But there's plenty of bureaucratic bullshit for both of us." He straightened. "Speaking of which, I'd better go. See ya."
"See ya, Eric," Wes said, already looking through his work again. But after his partner was gone, he looked up again thoughtfully. A year of working together, commanding the Silver Guardians for his father's company. He smiled faintly. In less than two years, they had gone from bitter enemies to friends. Perhaps even close friends, although there was always a thin but impenetrable line of reserve and discomfort between them. Certainly they trusted each other and had found they worked well together, each offering qualities the other lacked.
Things could have been different, very different. If they hadn't been able to forget the past -- all the things that had happened between them -- even the one that haunted his darkest dreams... It had started in school, that had been where they met. Wes hadn't quite known what to make of him, what to think of him, although he knew better now. He had tried to be nice. Had probably been Eric's only friend. Or had tried to be his friend. That was the beginning of Eric's hostility... But before that, he remembered reluctantly, it had been the beginning of the other side of their relationship...
"Eric, what are you doing hanging around here? There's a party going on in Brian Hunnicut's room. I'm on my way there now."
Eric looked up from the book balanced across his knees. He was sitting in one of the common rooms in the dormitory they both lived in, one of the smaller rooms the boys often used for studying when their dorm rooms were too crowded or noisy. "I'm not going," he said after a moment.
"Why not? You can't have that much studying to do."
"Have to keep up my grades. If I don't, I'll lose my scholarship."
Wes watched as he dropped his eyes to his book again. Eric was different from almost all of the boys at the prep school they attended. Unlike them -- and unlike Wes -- he didn't come from a wealthy family or an upper-class background. He didn't know the same people, hadn't been to the same places. Sometimes he seemed not to speak the same language. He lacked the easy manners most of them had, the self-confidence. Wes had heard rumors about him, about his parents, about -- other things. But Eric had a few things to be proud of too, things the other boys resented. His grades. And the martial arts he excelled in, only Wes himself even coming close.
"You already have almost straight A's," Wes said now. "Come on, you need to have some fun sometime. Relax a little."
"Well… I don't think Brian would want me there. Or most of the other kids."
"That's stupid." But it wasn't. Eric wasn't popular, for various reasons, including his standoffishness and the temper that occasionally flared violently. "Look, I'm inviting you. So come on." He sat on the couch next to Eric and held out his hand. "Give me the book."
"Wes, I really need to study…"
"Gimme the book." Wes grabbed at it, pulling it toward him.
"Hey, cut it out!" Eric pulled back, smiling.
"Come on, Eric, please?" Wes reached out with his other hand, closing it around Eric's wrist. He pulled on both wrist and book, as Eric lost his balance and swayed closer.
For a startled moment their faces were only inches apart, their eyes locked, Wes still pulling but Eric no longer pulling back, and they were leaning closer together, slowly, everything seeming bright and sharp in one electrifying instant. Eric's eyes flickered down to Wes's lips, his face softened…
"Hey, Wes, where the hell are you?" They both jumped back, looking up as two of Wes's friends came into view in the doorway.
"I'll be there in a sec." Wes jumped up, started for them, and turned back after a step. "Sure you won't come?" he asked, as Eric looked up at him, his expression almost blank, except for something dark that Wes didn't want to identify.
"Sure. See ya."
"Okay." Wes listened to his friends talking as they walked, answered and laughed, hiding his thoughts. What had happened back there? Sure, there were some rumors about Eric, that he didn't go for girls -- but he had put it down to the general dislike for him. Was it true? Or was he only imagining it? And another thought, one he quickly shoved down where he wouldn't have to face it, wouldn't have to answer it. When was I going to stop him?
Eric had been cool to him after that, and Wes had begun to avoid him, out of embarrassment and discomfort. They had drifted apart, Eric soon starting to treat Wes with the same withdrawn resentment he showed to the other boys. Then he had dropped out before graduation, after informing anyone willing to listen that he was tired of wasting his time in a school for 'lazy rich kids'.
Wes had never expected to see him again, had simply filed his memory away, forgotten it, except for the odd weak moment when he saw the image of dark eyes, the disturbing times when he saw an attractive man and felt a flash of the same stirring that had almost taken him over that night, those brief and guilty moments when he allowed himself to wonder what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted.
But they had met again, the day Eric showed up in Silver Hills, after Wes had met Jen and the others and become a Ranger. Wes understood him better now, could almost understand why he had acted the way he had. So much hostility then. So much resentment. If I had known the truth, how would I have reacted? Wes wondered. Perhaps the same…
"Look! They have blasters!" Katie exclaimed.
Wes glanced at her, then back at the battle taking place before them. He understood her surprise. Ordinary guns wouldn't work against the cyclobots, the robot footsoldiers Ransik, Frax, and Nadira were using in their attack on Silver Hills in 2001. Somehow the navy-blue uniformed troops they were watching had armed themselves with blasters, the same type that the cyclobots were armed with -- and the same that Wes and his partners used. Weapons that had been developed years in the future, the time that Jen and her teammates had come from in pursuit of the group of escaped criminals.
"How did they get the technology?" Trip murmured.
Jen only stared, her jaw clenching. Wes knew exactly what she was thinking. Their whole purpose in being there was to protect the timeline from interference. Those blasters were evidence that they were failing.
Nadira was screaming angrily at the line of men facing her. The pink-haired mutant had emerged from a trendy-looking boutique clutching an armful of stolen clothes and jewelry, and found them waiting for her. A man in a red beret identified them as the 'Silver Guardians', and ordered her and her robots to put down their weapons and surrender. The armed cyclobots failed to obey, and Nadira arrogantly started forward. True to his word, the man in the beret gave the command to fire. Moments later several robots were twitching and sparking on the ground.
Nadira screamed a final threat, and vanished in a sparkle of transporter light. The Silver Guardians ran forward to check on the remains of the ruined cyclobots. The boutique owner ran out to thank them. The red-bereted commander ordered them back to the SUV's they had arrived in. And it was over. Or so it seemed.
One dark-uniformed figure stopped on his way to the cars, hesitated, and turned. To Wes's surprise, he walked up to the five of them, his handsome face hard and blank behind the sunglasses they all wore. Wes didn't even recognize him until he took them off.
A tingle of surprise and shock ran down his spine, widening his eyes. "Eric!" he exclaimed. The rest passed in a blur - his attempt to shake hands, Eric's deliberate rudeness as he linked his own hands behind his back. The contempt in those dark eyes as they examined him, taking stock of his dirty overalls, then assessed and dismissed his friends. Then, in only a few seconds, his former friend was turning away.
"What's his problem?" Lucas asked as they watched him run to join his companions.
"I wish I knew," Wes said. "Eric and I went to school together for a couple of years. He had an attitude back then, too. But now he's worse." Worse -- and inevitably they would run into each other again, since they were both now in the business of fighting Ransik. But it probably wouldn't be often. Wes would be safely hidden in his helmet, Eric would be just another Guardian. No reason for them to be thrown together. Strangely, that thought was almost disappointing.
"Wes, why aren't you wearing your headset?" The harsh voice in his cell phone brought him back to the present, to his office in Bio-Lab, with a jolt. A glance out of the window showed the sky darkening. The day was almost over.
"Sorry, Eric. Just -- took it off for a minute." The truth was, he hated the headset, and rarely wore it. The Guardians all knew the only way to contact him was on the phone, and he didn't see why it would be a problem. But it was a sore spot with Eric.
"We've got an alarm, at the south warehouse. You in?"
"You bet. I'll be right there." He was already starting for the door after grabbing up the hated headset, thoughts of home and dinner with his father forgotten. There was a new narcotics shipment at the south warehouse, that must be what they were after. A chance to go into action, maybe even to use his morpher again. It had been so long, he missed the excitement; to be honest, he missed the power. He broke into a run.
It was just starting to rain as they arrived, the sky dark and gloomy overhead, the huge warehouse building looming over them. Eric issued a series of instructions, sending Guardians on their way to set up a perimeter, and to find the thieves' vehicle. Wes took command of a small group of men and stopped for a last consultation before heading out.
"I can come in from the back," he said.
Eric's face was almost invisible in the night, his eyes shadowed. "Okay. I'll take the front." He reached to catch Wes's arm as he turned away. "There's a supply of blast rifles stored in there, too. An experimental design from when Ransik was here. If they've got those…"
"I know. We'd better go in first, to check it out. And use these." He held up his left arm, with his morpher.
"Yeah. Okay. Call as soon as you spot anything."
"You too. Good luck."
A quick nod, and he was on his way with his men, walking as silently as they could around the building, the large, unlit old warehouse seeming full of menace as Wes watched it uneasily. Those blasters could be deadly, no one knew that better than he did. Or Eric. With any luck, the thieves didn't know about them. But maybe that was exactly what they were after.
At the back door, they stopped. Wes looked his group over and assigned them to hiding places. He would go in first, alone. With the morpher, he could withstand a limited amount of blaster fire. No need to expose them, not yet.
"Eric, I'm ready," he whispered into his morpher.
The reply came quickly and softly. "Let's move in."
Best to morph outside, less chance they would see him. Wes raised the morpher again and touched a button, automatically closing his eyes for an instant as the light of transformation flashed around him, warping the dimensions of space to retrieve his fighting equipment and replace his uniform with it. In an instant he was in the red and white Time Force Ranger suit that he had kept after his teammates had returned to the future.
The door opened with only a slight sound, and he slipped in, sensors in his helmet allowing him to see in the near complete darkness. Pausing for a moment, he listened, Ranger-enhanced hearing picking up faint sounds. He started to pick his cautious way in that direction.
Minutes later he found them, five men picking through a row of crates. The narcotics. But they had already been busy. Each carried a rifle, the design he recognized from about a year ago, the weapons his father's scientists had built. The Guardians had used them for a time, but when Ransik had been defeated and returned to his own time, along with his accomplices and the cyclobots, the rifles had been discarded in favor of the smaller, less dangerous hand blasters they had copied from the cyclobots' weapons.
They should have been dismantled, he realized, but it had never been done. There had always been the possibility that they'd be needed again. Now, ironically, they might be turned against him. He crept closer, seeking the cover of a pile of packing crates.
When he caught the flash of movement it was already too late. A sixth man was standing on a shipping carton, aiming at him. Wes leaped as the bolt of energy reached for him, avoiding it, only to fall clumsily over a pile of small boxes. But he had summoned his own blaster, rolled onto his back and aimed hastily, getting off a shot before the second burst hit him.
His attacker fell, but Wes gasped as a painful shock tore through him. Couldn't take too many more of those. He scrambled to his feet and looked around, realizing the first five men had disappeared, then seeing one of them, already aiming at him. Wes was faster, he shot and dropped him, then cried out and fell to his knees as another bolt hit him from behind. And another, before he could move. And another…
The first thing he saw after the burst of light and paralyzing shock of demorphing was a red and black figure running toward him, blaster blazing at his attackers, Eric's voice calling his name. But their enemies were ready, a barrage of blaster fire caught the Quantum Ranger, driving him back, bringing him down, as Wes struggled to move, helpless to save his partner or himself.
TBC...