Standard disclaimer applies
--
This is so gay…
Tommy Oliver moved his fingers back along the flute, licked his upper lip, and turned the page in front of him.
The Saints Go Marching In…oh god, no…
Hesettled back in the chair, preparing to take the fifteenth break of the day. He felt more than a little entitled.
Here he was; new state, new school, new class…new after school intergalactic super hero career. And now here he was, home schooling himself, after a life time spent in and out of various dojos, on how to play the flute. So he could take control of a giant robot dragon.
After spending most of his first week of high school under the control of an evil outer-space magic queen.
Angel Grove was a great city, monster attacks aside, but this entire...hero…thing…was going to be difficult enough without worrying about accidently stepping on people. He'd had control of the Dragonzord when Rita gave it to him, but he'd been under a spell then, acting on instinct. He still had no idea how he'd been able to play the dagger through his helmet, and had only just realised he had no conscious idea how to play the tune to summon the Dragonzord at all after a sleepless night spent feeling simultaneously excited, guilty and nauseous. He'd brought it up after a training session out at the Command Centre, and Zordon had helpfully had Alpha dig out the ancient manuscripts containing the original command codes.
The fact it had been in…alien had gone unmentioned but not unnoticed.
Things had been awkward before the flute though. After the entire trying to kill them thing, you' have thought the group would have all sorts of reasons to keep their distance from the former gold and green psychopath who'd rattled them around like anchovies inside their own giant robot. But no, they couldn't have been friendlier.
And that made him wonder if he might have been better off tarred and feathered as well as green and gold. There were so many questions about books, sports, music, martial arts, food, TV, how totally radical it was to feel the thunder clap of the suit and helmet transubstantiate out of the coin and onto your body…
The only one who seemed to be trying to give him some space was Billy, and Tommy suspected that was more because Billy didn't really talk to anyone all that much.
And Kimberley…
No. Not gonna go there.
It was like he was drowning. Drowning in dragon's breath. Burning away…and he didn't know why he felt like maybe he was better off like this.
Because they've given you their trust. Because after everything you did, willing or otherwise, they took you into the family. No questions. And you know you haven't earned it, not yet.
He inhaled as he had been taught, gathered his tension up into a ball in his centre of gravity, exhaled, and stretched before taking in the notes for the first time. He put the flute to his mouth, and breathed.
It didn't sound terrible…
He reached under the bed, pulling out the small roll of cloth containing everything that made up most of his life now; Morpher, communicator, flute, a few Ranger related newspaper clippings, paper umbrella from Ernie's…
He slipped the powder thin parchment from it's hiding place from under the textbook. He put the flute to his lips, remembered to check the window to make sure the entire neighbourhood hadn't developed the ability to see through his drawn curtains, and breathed.
He heard the far off roar, knew the undersea cavern that hadn't been there before was suddenly open, felt the heat of the metal and the cold of the ocean…
Now he was breathing the fire instead of burning in it. Now he had control. Now he could take his life back.
Now he could earn that trust.
Tommy Oliver smiled as the last notes of the noble song came to an end.
Cool.