A\N: I know, I know, I have a fic running already...but I saw the Cat\Dog diary joke and couldn't resist. Enjoy.

A\N 2: Oh my god I can update. YES! *dances*

Enjoy the fic.

TOMMY'S JOURNAL

We blew up a monster today! It rocked. Man, I love being a Ranger!

Who wouldn't, right? I mean, we've got giant robots, and awesome friends, and we blow up those dumb monsters. And I've got my Beautiful I talk to every week in Florida, and, heck, I'm saving the world. I'm one of Zordon's Chosen!

So, yeah. I rule.

Anyway, I'm off to spar with Rocky. I so need to work out, I think I can get just a bit more definition on my abs if I try. Oh, and I should talk to Kat, too, she seems kind of sad. I wonder why?

-Tommy

Dear Diary,

It's been three months.

That's all I can think of. Three months. Three months since I was truly free, and only one since 'escaping' into this over-bright hellhole.

Oh, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, truly I'm not. I know the Rangers don't mean me harm, they're as imprisoned as I am. But Zordon?

Zordon is a monster.

Think of today, after all. There was a monster in the park. Zordon has all of his Rangers trained to be heroes; we teleported down as quickly as we could.

But the monster wasn't evil. It wasn't trying to cause harm.

It was just looking for flowers.

I tried to stop the Rangers. Truly I did. But Zordon kept insisting it was evil, and I...I don't know what happened! It's as if, when I spoke, my throat closed itself, as if in warning-

No.

No, I can't lie to myself. It was a warning. Rita kept me in line directly, whispering her filthy lies into my mind; Zordon is more subtle.

I wonder if the Rangers know that they have no choice? That their Power was given to them purely by genetics, no more? Zordon certainly didn't tell them. Instead he saw their youth, their need to be 'good', and filled their minds with lies.

They were superheroes, he told them. They were 'good' and fighting 'evil'. The truth-that this is an intragalactic war, that Rita and even Zedd are only minor players, that without Zordon's training all the Rangers would be long dead-that remains hidden.

And when I speak, something always happens.

It was so subtle the first time. I had stopped the Rangers from firing, a civilian had wandered onto the field. But Zordon must not have seen it, because that night, my power began to fail. And when I was teleported to the Command Center, calm as always, Zordon had warned me that I must never stray from the side of light again.

And now I cannot speak.

I cannot fight. I cannot let anything happen, I can only play hero in this too-bright wasteland of my mind. And I...I stood, I watched, I fired upon a sentient being that, stupid and ugly as it may have been, was only picking flowers.

At times, I remember Rita. The memories are almost soothing now. Rita may have controlled me, but she had two months with me. Two months of deep, intense mental contact forms strong bonds, and so the memories are not all bad.

She combed my hair once, when I was sick. She shared a joke with me. Laughed with me at my inane homework.

Zordon may have offered me some freedom, and the chance to do good, but he has never loved me.

And, of course, sometimes other memories appear.

Sometimes I remember childhood. I remember what it was to be truly free. I remember what the others cannot understand-a time when I was free.

There was no Zordon. No Rita.

Only me.

But the pain is too harsh, to look back at what I cannot have. So I steel myself and look forward and try, try so hard, to never think about what I'm truly doing, because the knowledge would break me. Instead I try to enjoy this, the playful heroics that we all indulge in.

Tommy asked me today why I was so sad.

I wonder if, someday, I shall ever have to ask my puppy-like friend, so beautiful in his heroics and so childish in his thoughts, the same thing.

-Katherine