Disclaimer: Ree mine. Sky not mine. Jack not mine. Fountain not mine. Toothbrushes not mine.

Author's Note: I rewrote this story over a dozen times, and each time Sky became less and less responsive. This is the final result, and probably what is truest to his character. Also, I don't remember why I didn't post this sooner, but since I don't remember, I guess I'll post it now!

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Pep Talks

He saw her shoes before he heard her voice. When he glanced up, there was a camera focused squarely on him, a finger depressing the shutter button as soon as his eyes met the lens.

"That is way too cliché." Click.

He should have been annoyed, even just mildly, but instead he felt nothing. He blinked in mute surprise and went right back to what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He told her. She glanced at his scrubbing tool dubiously.

"I can see that." Her eyes flickered away briefly, probably to the white gauze wound around his wrist. "The entire entryway?"

"Yep." Methodically he scoured at the dark gray stone.

"How much of your life does he want you to waste away?"

He shrugged, unperturbed. He moved his brush on to the next square inch of cement.

"You know, you're awfully complacent for someone who has to clean over 22 square meters of concrete with a soft-bristled toothbrush."

"Medium," he corrected, and immediately began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, but that only set him off even more.

"I…can't…tell…you," he stammered, shoulders quaking in his hysterics. It took at least a minute or two before he could calm down enough to resume his scrubbing. By now, his sister looked concerned.

"You've finally done it," she breathed, eyes wide in amazement.

That made him pause. She couldn't possibly know the events that had led up to this situation, could she? But then again, the Academy was a rather isolated community, and gossip traveled fast.

"Done what?" he asked, a little wary of the answer.

"Gone off the deep end." She settled herself on the fountain ledge beside him, one leg tucked beneath her. "Mad. Bananas. Loco. Apeshit. Crackerjack. Flipped up and out and into the funny house—"

"I get it," he said before her list got much longer. He took her getting comfortable as a sign that she was there to stay and suppressed a sigh. "And no, I haven't done that."

"What have you done, then?" she prodded, confident that she had locked on to something. Perceptive pest.

"I just let an assassin into the Academy," he said dryly.

She gave him an odd look. "Why on this good green earth would you do that? Evil forces pay better or something?"

His expression darkened. "Apparently. It was Dru. I let him in against security regulations."

"Dru?" He could see in her face that she was trying to place the name. "Creepy, shifty, Tangarmaranian Dru?"

That aggravated him, her words hitting a particularly sore point. Had everybody seen there was something wrong with Dru? Everybody but him, apparently.

"Your best friend Dru," she said, this time very gently.

"Former best friend," he muttered, and dedicated more attention than necessary to his cleaning. Ree stayed quiet, but she was obviously waiting for him to say more. He would have been okay with letting her wait forever.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked finally.

"Not really." He had had enough 'talking' today, though it had mostly been scolding, with a fair bit of yelling.

"Okay," she said, and for a moment he dared to hope that that would be the end of it.

"Does it hurt?" she asked after a silent pause.

"Does what—" He glanced at his wrist and shrugged. "A little. It'll be sore for a while." He moved his brush to a new patch of cement.

She smiled. "I didn't mean your wrist."

No, of course she didn't. "Oh."

"Did Dru do that?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"On purpose?"

"Yeah. I went after him after he shot Commander Cruger."

"By yourself?"

"The other Rangers were helping the commander."

Ree pulled her other knee up to her chest. "You could've been killed."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm a Ranger, genius. That's an inherent risk we take, or did you miss that somewhere?"

"I topped Dru's record in precision shooting last month," she said, as serious as he had ever heard her. "I know that if he had felt like hitting some other part of you, some place a little more vital, he would have, and he wouldn't have missed."

"You're right," he conceded, making a mental note to check the records lists and deciding not to share the fact that a small part of him was comforted that his former friend hadn't tried to kill him outright. The shot from Dru's laser had come faster than he could blink. He'd reacted only after the metal coil around his wrist snapped, striking a tendon and making his hand alternately throb and tingle afterwards. Considering the force of impact from that shot, he considered himself lucky there wasn't any permanent damage.

"So what happened afterwards?" His sister wasn't letting up.

"I arrested him," he said simply.

"I wouldn't have guessed," she deadpanned, and he allowed himself a slight grin, getting no small amount of pleasure from her exasperation. "Care to expound?"

"Not really."

Ree went quiet again, and he was almost sorry because annoying her was easily the most gratifying thing he'd done all day. The silence dragged on for so long that when she unfolded her leg, he was sure she meant to leave. Instead, she did the most traitorous thing she could have possibly done—she scuffed her heel against the patch of cement he had just cleaned, leaving behind flecks of dirt and a black mark. The glare he shot her could have stopped traffic.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" he groused, knocking the offending foot aside.

"Well, let's see." She counted off on her fingers as she spoke. "You broke security regulations, totally not your MO. You got shot, your best friend tried to kill the commander, and, oh yes. You're cleaning 22 square metersof concrete with a medium-bristled toothbrush and not the slightest bit of righteous indignation."

"… never had a more self-righteous, pig-headed, ego-driven, selfish and stubborn cadet in all my years as commander…"

"Maybe I deserve it."

"…am outraged that you would be so self-serving and thoughtless, flagrantly disregarding strict regulations and placing the entire Academy in danger …"

His sister stared at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Sky Tate?"

"…You are not above the rules of this institution, cadet, and you would do well to remember that…"

He thought about the notations that would go on his personal record, no doubt right after the ones about the diamonds incident. "That's a good question."

"Out with it before I charge you with abduction."

His sister was so melodramatic sometimes. "Evidence?"

She held up her camera with a bored look. Oh yeah.

He heaved a sigh. "Look, I made a bad decision, and now I'm paying for it. End of story."

"Okay, okay." He could tell she meant it this time. "I was just curious if there was more to the story. I think anyone in your shoes would have done the same. What's the point of friends if you can't trust them?"

She stood up—thank the gods. "Anyway, I'll bet I'm not the only who'll bother you about it today. It's still early."

With a ridiculous cackle that made him question whether they were really related, she finally left him alone. It amazed him how well she kept up with his activities, considering she was on a different squad and that their paths virtually never crossed. But it was also a generally held truth around the Academy that C cadets knew everything.

He focused in on his cleaning task, ready to embrace some solitude again when another figure walked his way—a figure in a red SPD t-shirt. Damnit, Ree was right again. Was this why Cruger really had stuck him out here with a chore that was sure to take all day or longer? So a dozen different people could stop by and give him pep talks that he didn't want?

It was tempting to just ignore Jack; he really didn't care to discuss his misconduct with the Red SPD Ranger. But the other man's demeanor was surprisingly unassuming, subdued even, as if he weren't the same person who antagonized Sky at every turn. When he began speaking, Sky knew Jack was going out of his way to try to clear the air between them, so they could at least be on civil terms with one another. That was the last thing the Blue Ranger had expected him to do, at least until Jack pulled out a toothbrush and went at a piece of concrete on his own.

"Jack, stop. You don't have to do that."

The other man gave him a sideways glance. "I know."

As the Red Ranger scrubbed away in vigor, Sky found himself unable to squelch a rising fit of giggles. When Jack gave him an odd look, the sleeve of his red tshirt stirring in a faint breeze—Sky started sputtering helplessly.

"What's so funny?" asked his perplexed leader, who was bordering on a laugh himself, probably at the sight of Sky practically convulsing with laughter.

"I—I'm sorry." He could hardly breathe let alone talk. He held up the tiny bristled instrument, shoulders still quaking. "I'm using your toothbrush."

Jack's expression was priceless. Yup, just about worth this entire fiasco. Sky continued to laugh even when Jack lost his charitable nature and threw his toothbrush at him, leaving him to his scrubbing fate. He wasn't sorry to let the Red Ranger go. All he really wanted was to be left alone, and a second toothbrush wasn't going to help him cover that much extra ground anyway.

Thankfully—surprisingly—no one else came out to give him a sympathy talk, and he was able to work in silence for the rest of the afternoon. All around him, he watched the shadows lengthen across the concrete as the sun dropped from its high noon position and drifted lazily into the western horizon.