Disclaimer: Power Rangers is not mine. The original characters are. I'm not making money from this.

1.

The lights were low throughout the bay. Shadows cast from a single truss of overhead lighting created dark figures that stretched out far across the cavernous chamber. Beneath the lights, on the open floor of the bay, lay the mangled form of a man, though a thousand times too large to be human. Its sturdy metallic exterior was busted wide open: parts strewn about, wires and other mechanical workings extruding haphazardly.

A slice of illumination pierced the darkness, momentarily, as the doors to a lift opened. Footsteps clanging on a catwalk rang out through the eerie place. A figure – the owner of the steps – appeared at the central console on the main platform above the vast floor. It was unresponsive to the individual's touch, nor the subsequent banging on its sides. Fumbling with a flashlight, the unshaven face of a young man suddenly illuminated.
Blinking until his eyes adjusted, he peered around the console, searching for the on-switch, a disconnected cable, anything. He knew little about such things and finally gave up. Shrugging, he continued to the floor where the wreckage of the large machine-man rested. Pausing at the base of the towering mass of metal, hands on his hips, he studied it. With the light firmly planted in his mouth, he climbed the behemoth and found his way into the cockpit.

Inside the equally dimly lit compartment, sat another young man. He was hunched over the back of a disjointed seat, busily making repairs. His golden hair covered his focused face, which had only the smallest smear of grease. The rest of him was shockingly clean, given the dingy environment. Obviously deep in thought beyond the work in his hands, he seemed unaware of the intruder, who was now leaning in the doorway, observing with an affectionate grin.

"It's no good," the blond finally said without looking up, as he tossed his work aside, "power relay's burnt out."

"I was gonna ask how repairs were coming, but I can see that is probably the last question you'd wanna answer."

Chortling, he shook his head as he knowingly wiped away the grease smudge on his cheek with a rag, "Hudson, you always could make me laugh," he replied, his voice devoid of any of the emotions usually associated with laughter; he slid out of the precarious chair to rest against a console.

"Thanks, by the way," Hudson said, gesturing around at repairs that were nowhere near complete.

A simple nod was the reply. Crossing his arms, his eyes surveyed the room. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside the cockpit. Only emergency lighting from some unknown source touched the dark of the space. Soot and ash coated the transparent view port as well, keeping any light from entering that way.

"Sorry about the loss today, Skylar," Hudson said softly, after a few minutes. His usual brazen attitude was gone, unsure as to what kind of situation he was walking into today.

"We've been losing a lot lately," Skylar said flatly, as if to shrug off the statement. His brown eyes seemed abnormally dark. Usually, they had a luster, shinning with zeal, drive, and warm kindness.

But now…

They were just different. They saw right through you, that is, if they saw you at all. His face was clouded – a "cloud of Skylar" as Hudson always described it – clouded with everything left unsaid. What was churning deep inside, Hudson did not know. The gears in his head were turning, his mind analyzing and devising, behind his far away gaze. They always were these days.

"It seems that way doesn't it?" Hudson offered, trying to break into the jet-stream of thoughts.

He was rewarded with a nod. The pursed lips, furrowed brow, and less-than-expressive eye rolls might have been mistaken as the attitude of a brooding teenager if one did not know better. Skylar was carrying a lot of weight on his proverbial shoulders and he was starting to crack.

His usually stoic nature – when it came to matters of the heart or himself – would normally keep anyone, even those closest to him, such as Hudson, unaware of what he was dealing with. The series of events over the last few weeks, months, and even years was a burden he carried, a responsibility he called his own. And No One, it seemed, had the place to suggest otherwise.

Skylar's bright smile had faded to sheer focus. His personal life had all but disappeared. He only left base when duty called. The Skylar that Hudson knew had disappeared. The turmoil within had begun to leek out like the tell-tale splashes of water over the edge of a dam.

"Ya know, it used to be that losing meant game over," Skylar finally said.

"You're right," Hudson agreed, he had not thought of it that way, "Either they won or we did. We had to or …" he made an exploding sound, tossing his hands together in a jumble, "that was it. We always won, there was no other choice. It's not so cut-and-dry anymore."

"Not always," Skylar whispered bitterly. For the first time since Hudson arrived, Skylar looked him in the eyes. Sorrow bore into him. Hudson wanted to cry right then and there, but he could not. He had to be strong for both of them. He had no words, something very uncharacteristic of Hudson, and could only respond with compassionate eyes.

"How'd we get here?" Skylar asked, rhetorically Hudson supposed. "An attack would come, we would respond, they'd try to get rid of us so we'd destroy them instead. Simple. Now…well, we know how things are now. And then there's you…"

Hudson's own mind began to wander, reminiscing.

So much had happened, Hudson thought, Things I'd never have dreamed of. Life was not what I thought it'd be three years ago. We've been through hell. So much bad stuff. If one were to focus on all of the negatives, it would be easy to slip into depression…

"Skylar," Hudson almost shouted, realizing where Skylar's mind had taken him, "You cannot blame yourself for what happened to me."

His eyes looked away as he acquiesced, a nod almost indiscernible. Skylar was good at covering his emotions with his eyes, but his mouth gave him away. A twitch at the corner of his mouth told Hudson he had not truly gotten his point across.

"Skylar, listen to me," he implored. Hudson was now kneeling in front of Skylar. "How many times do we have to this conversation? I'm fine! Yeah, what happened sucks. I'm a little worse for wear, but I'm OK."

Same response.

"Don't just shut me out 'cause you think you already know what I'm gonna say!" Hudson's tone had changed.

"What do you want me say?!" Skylar exploded. "Huh?"

"Just talk to me." Hudson remained as calm as possible, knowing this was not a yelling match and the anger was really not directed at him. Still, it is hard to not react when someone shouts at you.

"We had this conversation already," the blond said through clench teeth. Tears had begun to well up.

"Then let's have it again," Hudson replied, more forcefully.

Skylar threw up his arms in frustration as he jumped up and began to pace. Covering his eyes with his palms, he tried to gain his composure. He blinked back tears and with frightening resolve, looked Hudson square in the eyes.

"I shoulda been there. It shoulda been me." Skylar's voice was low and primal sounding, raging almost. It startled Hudson. "And then…I failed to…to fix things."

Hudson took him by the shoulders, matching Skylar's intensity. "You could not have prevented this and you could not have fixed it, can't fix it! It's not your fault. We have to accept it, let it go, and move on. Skylar, you're a wreck. I need you to get over this. The team needs you."

Skylar, deflated, shrugged out of his best friend's grip, and turned away. He collapsed against a bare wall and slid to the floor.

"I could have fixed it," he whispered, "but I failed."

You have got to be kiddin? Hudson thought, I am not getting through to this guy… Hudson was about to go postal when he realized that Skylar was serious. He narrowed his eyes, studying Skylar.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Skylar mumbled something Hudson was unable to make out.

"What?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Hudson laughed aloud. There was no stopping it. "Don't worry about it?" He repeated, mockingly, in an incredulous and exasperated tone. "What aren't you telling-"

A sudden claxon from the PA interrupted him. A garbled voice and static came through.

"….Skylar…trouble…" was all the two were able to differentiate from noise.

"On my way!" Skylar replied. He jumped to his feet and was about to rush off, but stopped and turned to Hudson. "Please Hudson, don't worry about it. And don't worry about me. I'm fine. There are more important things than me and you that we need to be concerned with."

Hudson wanted to disagree, to say something, anything else besides just, "OK," but Skylar had to go. He was right about more important things.

So he said it.

Hudson barely heard Skylar say "thank you," as he vanished in a column of light.