Reflection 1: Ongoing Storm
By: ScarletDeva
Author's Notes: So I know I've been quite inactive in the fandom but recently my guilty conscience for my still unfinished Trialsverse series and general nostalgia have been bugging me. And as I contemplated our beloved Rangers and their lives it occurred to me that we tend to skip over their home lives unless we make them into a tragic back-story and skip over their parents unless we want to make them evil or bad. I also began to consider what held the Rangers together as friends, how their lives connected in other ways aside from the Power.
Set in the Trialsverse.
Disclaimer: insert legalese here
Dedication: TK Styles for being the best honorary older brother ever. He's… like the Jason to my Kim. Sorta. Love you Kevvie.
The sky roared its displeasure and it seemed as though there was only a single cloud, just one, bloated and mutated, that covered the entire expanse of it. Neither of the two seven year olds could tell if the darkness sinewed through the air was a result of the departing light of the sun or dominance of the thoroughly masterful storm.
"It's never going to go away is it," the girl said more than asked.
The boy adjusted the glasses on his nose, though the water-covered lenses were as useless as his own eyes, and peered up. He was under no delusion that his friend was referring to the natural phenomenon around them. "I do not know Kimberly."
She attempted a wan smile and swept back the wet strands that clung to her cheeks before reaching out to take his hand in hers.
They continued picking their way through the field, their destination a small shed about twenty feet away. Lightning struck several times, once just a few inches away from the boy's foot, and both kids shivered, more in adrenaline driven fear than the cold that was seeping through their soaked attire. Hurrying, they finally ducked into the shed.
Kimberly scampered to the small closet, having to get to her tip-toes to catch the heavy workman jackets by their sleeves and tugged mightily, ending up tumbling on some old bedding, the won prize covering her head.
"Billy?"
He sat down next to her, helping her untangle herself, and took the spare jacket. Huddling and breathing heavy, they listened to the storm outside. Billy fiddled with the buttons on his dress shirt.
"They'll miss us you know," Kimberly said. "Or you at least."
"They shall be greatly worried about you as well," he responded. The girl sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
The door squeaked a little and a furry head poked in. The translucent eyes looked over the children sharply and the wild cat strode in, soaking tail held warily.
Kimberly held out a hand, palm up, returning a smile for Billy's worried look. The cat ignored her and curled up at the other end of the room. She sighed sadly, muttering something to herself, and let her hand down.
"I miss Aunt Mattie," she repeated so Billy could hear.
He flinched. No one dared talk about his mother around him for the past week. Maybe they though he would be a cry-baby and make things more difficult for his dad. He wasn't a cry-baby.
Kimberly glanced at him, brown eyes squinted a little. "Can I tell you something?"
He nodded.
"I think I liked her better than mom," she admitted in a rush and drew back. "Does that make me bad?"
"She is…- was… nice," he choked out.
Kimberly nodded, looking at the floor as she drew random designs on it with a finger. "She never yelled. Mom always yells now." Chancing another glance at Billy, she made another confession. "I don't think she loves me anymore. She and Daddy yell all the time and I think they're going to leave. But not like Aunt Mattie. Cause she still loves you."
"She's dead Kimmie," Billy said in a voice that was improperly rough for a small boy.
Kimberly just shrugged. "Doesn't mean she doesn't love you."
His lower lip trembled.
In response so did hers. She threw her arms around his huddled body and sniffed.
"I love you Billy," she said. "I love you even better than Kenny."
The boy made no response, but it seemed that her shoulder was getting soggier.
It was hours by the time the storm began to settle down and the door opened again.
"Oh thank god," the man said gruffly. He stepped in, his hand reaching up to lift and crumple his hat, and then he kneeled down next to the curled up, sleeping pair of children. Kimberly's mouth was slightly open and she was making the sort of sounds he was used to hearing from small kittens and Billy, even in his sleep, looked fiercely focused, clinging to his friend, tear tracks marked clearly on his stress-puffed face. The man sat down, gathering both into his lap, neither remotely big for their age and so fitting comfortably still. His gentle fingers tipped Kimberly's chin up, closing her mouth, and swept damp, blond strands away from Billy's face.
It was his fault the two had run away after the funeral, he knew. It wasn't any mystery that his wife's lingering illness had not been a glue in the lives of his loved ones. Her best friend had been invaluable for the duration of it but though he hadn't the energy to spare to do anything about it, he could see the strain in Caroline Hart's eyes. Kimberly's constant presence at his home and habitual begging to stay for the night was a clear symptom of that. But how could he deny her when he saw his son's eyes look a little less weighed down around the cheerful girl.
He lied.
He was there for Kimberly's birth. He was her godfather. He could never deny her anything.
Her or Billy.
He cuddled them closer and his features twisted in obvious pain.
How was he going to do this alone?
Mathilda was gone and in a way he was relieved that she was done suffering.
He lied again.
There was no relief. Just the unceasingly present knowledge of her loss.
Caroline confided after the funeral in a very atypical, business-like tone that she would be asking Frank for a divorce and thus would have more free time to devote to Billy, not to mention Kenny and Kimberly.
Something told him this wouldn't make things better.
He pressed a kiss to Billy's forehead.
But nothing could make things better.
Carefully the man hefted both children, neither particularly heavy, and, without waking them, went into the damp air of the night.
Mattie would kill him from beyond the grave if he let them get sick.
Author's Note: As you can probably tell I intend to go on with this. I am primarily concerned with the original five for the moment though once I finish with them I will probably go on. Currently I'm seeking ways for them to connect individually that aren't the cliché 'Jason saves Billy from a bully' way. If you have any ideas please email me at Thanks.
Oh and please review. It does my soul good.