Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Disney/Haim Saban
Every night the nightmares come without fail. Images of blasts going off, sparks flying into the air, mangled buildings, scarred zords and fifty meter monsters. Sounds of screams, explosions and manic laughter.
Every night they wake up without fail; three young men and a young woman, soaked in sweat and steeped in memories they want desperately to forget. Scattered throughout the country, but connected with a bond few ever know.
On this night, Kira Ford wakes as usual. She is covered with water of her own making, her limbs shaking, her hair knotted and damp. Beside her, a man stirs, and long fingers touch her hip. "Kira?" He raises his head up, blinks sleepy eyes at her. "Are you all right? Was it another nightmare?"
"It's all right," she peels his fingers from her, puts it on the pillow beside his head. He is a singer, one of her own kind, successful and confident, and kind – a trait she misses well and finds rarely in this business of glittering lights and casual friendships. But, as kind as he is, she can never tell him about the nightmares that haunt her, about why she wakes up every night, why she gets out of bed and reaches for the phone to make expensive long distance calls. Such is the aftermath of being a Power Ranger.
She gets up now, tugging a robe over her naked form. She takes the phone out into the living room of the apartment they share, and quietly closes the door. Then she dials a number she knows better than her own. The phone is picked up almost immediately. "Hello Kira."
"Ethan." She closes her eyes, takes a breath and holds back the sobs she knows want to escape. "Oh god Ethan."
"They were bad tonight?"
"They're always bad."
A beeping sounds in her ear and she waits while Ethan curses, and fiddles, making thumping noises. Then another voice fills her ears; "Man, this sucks."
"Hi Conner." She sits on the couch, tucking her feet under her. And looks at the window at the snow falling softly outside. "I agree; this does suck."
"Hold up guys," Ethan says. "I just need to…"
Some more fumbling, followed by a thunk and then the last of their little group joins them. "Hey guys."
"Hi Trent," they chorus.
"This sucks," Conner repeats. "It totally sucks."
"I know what you mean man," Ethan agrees. "I mean, we did it all. Saved the world and everything."
"So why can't we at the very least sleep at night?" Kira finishes. "It's not like we all have a guilty conscious."
"I suppose in a way we do," Trent says quietly. "Guilty because we couldn't save everyone."
They fall silent in the wisdom of his words. Kira gets up, walks to the window to get a closer view of the snow. "I wish I could tell him," she says in a quiet voice. "Sometimes I open my mouth and there it is on the tip of my tongue, waiting to spill out. But I always stop. I can't do it."
"You can't burden anyone else with it," Ethan says, understanding. "Can't relieve the burden…"
"Because you know it will only end up burdening them," Conner finishes. "Yeah, I get that too. But it's hurting us."
"I know." Trent says. "Every relationship ends because they know I'm holding something back. Holding back a big part of myself."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Ethan says. "Being a superhero…it wasn't supposed to end like this. Dr. O should have told us."
"Would you have walked away?" Kira asks.
There is silence on the line as they mull over it. "No," Conner says finally. "I couldn't have. I could say I had to stay, the powers had bonded to me, that I had no choice. But I did. We all did."
"Yeah," Trent agrees. "We could have walked away. But it wouldn't have done any good."
"We did what we had to," Ethan says in a quiet voice. "We chose to fight, we chose to sacrifice some for others."
"And we choose to keep silent about it, we choose to keep it to ourselves. Because we're still fighting," Kira finishes.
Again, there is silence. Then Conner speaks; "that sounds good. Is it going in your next album?"
They laugh, and the tension is broken. Kira is smiling when the man emerges from the bedroom, his hair rumpled, his eyes bleary. "Kira?" He asks in a rough voice and she turned to face him, phone still pressed to her ear.
"I have to go guys," she says quickly, in a quiet voice. She has not yet told him just who it is she calls every night. She knows he might not believe her, knows he will wonder how she came into contact with these people; an up and coming artist, a former soccer player currently struggling to open a soccer school and an inventor who's company is one of the biggest software giants in the world.
They say their goodbyes and she hangs up, putting the wireless phone on the table. She approaches him, rising up on tiptoe so she can kiss him. He wraps his arms around her waist and tucks his head into his chest so he can look into her eyes. "Who was that?"
"Old friends," she said, and pulled him down for another kiss. Then she takes him into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. And knowing that this time tomorrow night, she will be doing the same thing, and avoiding the same questions.
Such is the aftermath of being a Power Ranger.