Disclaimer: I do not own Power Rangers Megaforce. This story is fan-made.

Author's Note: This is not where the Megaforce series starts. If you want to read the series without getting lost, I suggest you read my stories in the order they appear:

No To Date Nights - The Party Night - Project Partners - Megaforce: Lives Behind The Masks - Prom Night - A Trip To Remember - First Meetings - Something She Loves – Protective Morans – Samurai In Harwood County – Rainy Days – Luck Had Nothing To Do With It – Ranger Support – Parents and Children – Hero Without The Spandex – Emma's Night – Emma's Mother – Bait And Switch – After Death – A Stormy Day – A Date For Tensou – A Mother's Advice – Mending Fences – Executioner Named Revenge –Those Three Words – On The Fourth Day – Babysitting – Tiger

It didn't feel right what she was doing. Then again, bringing her daughter to prison wasn't right. This wasn't how parenting worked. Mrs. Goodall had papers for her husband to sign, which start their divorce. Their marriage had been on the rocks for years already, but with neither wanting to admit to their mistakes, they stayed married while they started seeing and sleeping with other people. Mrs. Goodall wanted to be a better parent to Emma, and knew she had to start pulling out the weeds. Unfortunately, Mr. Goodall was a weed.

When Mrs. Goodall talked to Emma about all this, Emma insisted she come with her to the prison to visit her father. Regardless of what he had done and the inevitable divorce, he was still her father. Emma wanted one real goodbye before turning away from him. She was just sad that would only happen in prison. Her father had a lengthy sentence for his attempt at murder.

After they cleared security, the two Goodalls were taking to a room. Emma's stomach turned at the sight and she couldn't believe her father would be spending a good portion of his life in this bare, dirty, cold place.

"Can I talk to him first?" Emma asked her mother after a guard told them Mr. Goodall would be in soon. Mrs. Goodall nodded her head.

"I'd like to be in the room, though," she said. "I'm not leaving you alone with him."

Emma agreed just as the door opened and Mr. Goodall stepped inside. His eyes lit up when he saw his wife and daughter and after he sat down he reached out to Emma, who was seated across from him. She pulled her hand away. Mr. Goodall looked hurt.

"Emma…"

"Do you remember why you're here?" she asked him. Mr. Goodall lowered his head and sighed.

"I've had a long time to think, Emma…"

"Yeah, that's why they put you in prison," Emma rolled her eyes. "You wanted to kill Gia!"

"I wanted you back," Mr. Goodall shook his head. "I wasn't thinking clearly."

"You had a gun," Emma said. "You came to the Brainfreeze, where it was a sure bet she would be. You took your gun out and pointed it at Gia."

"And I regret it every day I'm here."

"Why?" Emma asked. "Because you know it was wrong or because you're here?"

"Because it was wrong. Emma, of course it was wrong! I wasn't thinking clearly. I wanted you to come home…"

"New York isn't home!"

"Wherever family is, that's home."

"So the Morans would be coming with us to New York?" Emma asked. Mr. Goodall looked to his daughter curiously before he shook his head.

"Not that I…"

"What was so good about work, dad?" Emma asked. "What about the stuffy offices, the angry bosses, and the busted photocopiers was so amazing you had to work late every night? What was it about cheap airline food that made you want to want to travel all the time? What was so wrong with me that you never wanted to come home?"

"Nothing was wrong with you, sweet…"

"Don't," Emma shook her head. "Was I not enough for you? Did you maybe want a boy? Was I a mistake?"

"You weren't a mistake. Emma, sweetheart, I love you with all my heart," Mr. Goodall tried to reach out for his daughter again but she pulled away. When he stood up, he saw the guard shaking his head and he knew he had to sit down again. He looked over at Emma. "Getting the phone call that you were going to be taken away from me really messed me up. I couldn't imagine life without you."

"Admit it, dad. You screwed up."

"Yes. I never should have gotten the gun…"

"You screwed up as a father!" Emma shouted. "Forget the gun, dad! Forget for a minute that you tried to kill my best friend. Your best friend's daughter! As a dad, you're a deadbeat!"

"I worked hard to provide for you, Emma. I bought you food…"

"You left money on the counter for me to buy my own food."

"I put a roof over your head."

"It might as well have been a cardboard box."

"I bought you clothes. I sent you to school."

"You never once helped me with my homework," Emma shook her head. "When I was six, in the first grade, I told my teacher I didn't deserve to be praised for doing my homework. All she ever assigned was for us to read for twenty minutes with our parents. You and mom never read with me! It was always the Morans. I thought I wasn't doing homework because I never read to you."

"Emma, this is why I didn't want anyone taking you away from me. Much less the Morans. They were going to turn me into the bad guy. I read with you, of course I read with you. You were my daughter."

"No. You came home from work late one night. When you came to pick me up from their house I asked you if I could read my new favourite book to you when we got home. You said yes."

"See."

"You drove me home, and then fell asleep at the wheel in the driveway. When I woke you up to remind you of the book, you pushed me away. You slept all night in the car. Mom was on vacation. I couldn't get inside the house. I slept in the garden!"

"You're imagining…"

"Ask Joe! When he came to pick me up from school the next morning, you were gone for work and he found me in the flower bed covered in dirt. When you picked me up after school, you said nothing about it!"

"Maybe you dreamt, this, Emma. I don't remember…"

"I know you don't! You didn't give a damn about stepping up and being a good father until a real father stepped up. Go ahead, ask Joe all about my night in the dirt."

"Fine, call him. We'll see what he says…"

"He's dead!" Emma screamed. Mr. Goodall froze. His face fell. He shook his head.

"Emma, settle down…"

"He's dead, Jeff," Mrs. Goodall spoke up. "Joe was very sick and his body couldn't…"

"No, he's…"

"Your best friend is dead," Emma put her hands on the table and leaned in closer to her father. "And the last thing you ever did for him was point a gun at his daughter. Your best friend, the man you grew up with from the time you were four. The man who took care of your daughter because you were overworked, or too tired, or on vacation, or on business and couldn't do it yourself. He's dead."

Mr. Goodall held his head in his hands, "Joe's really…"

"Dead. Yeah."

"Emma, please…"

"I was hoping for an apology," Emma shook her head. "I was hoping that when I came in here, you'd be in tears because you would know you screwed up. Instead, it was just excuses and…"

"Emma, I love you," Mr. Goodall looked up.

"I don't love you."

"Emma. Emma!" Mr. Goodall called but Emma didn't turn around. She asked the guards to let her out. Mr. Goodall rose to his feet and called for her until the door was closed and he was sure she couldn't hear him. Then he turned to his wife, who put some papers down on the table before him.

"We screwed up, Jeff. We've really messed her up."

"We did our best, Claire. That's all a daughter can ask from her parents. No one's perfect."

"Open your eyes, Jeff! She was crying out for you and all you did was make up excuses and deny the truth. What kind of parent does that?"

"She's just a child, Claire. We're her parents. We're the adults. We know what's best for her."

"Taking her away from the Morans, then? That was for the best."

"I was transferred. We had to…"

"Leaving her for weeks by herself? That was best?"

"Teenagers love…"

"Buying a gun was best?"

"To defend my family, yes."

"Pointing that gun at her best friend? Was that really the best thing for her? How is that defending your family?"

"That was a mistake. Parents aren't perfect."

"I'm sorry it's come to this, Jeff," Mrs. Goodall pointed to the papers, "I want a divorce."

"So you and Oliver can…"

"This has nothing to do with Oliver," Mrs. Goodall shook her head. "I haven't even seen him since I've been back in Harwood. He was a mistake."

"You've been sleeping with him longer than you and I…"

"This has nothing to do with Oliver," Mrs. Goodall repeated and growled. "This is for Emma. This is so we can be a family again. Sign the damn papers, Jeff."

"And what if I don't want to."

"Then I'll do it the hard way."

Mr. Goodall pushed the papers away and then looked to his guard, "I want to go back, now."