Author's note: Chapter 2! Enjoy.

The Wearing of Masks

Jack walked quickly through the streets of New Tech city, his mind focused on one target - Sky Tate. He knew, as did the other members of the former B Squad, that Sky blamed himself for their mass resignations and he also knew that there was no way of convincing him otherwise - despite the successes they'd gone on to have. Syd was a singer now, with a glittering career and a lifestyle that most people could only dream about; Z was working with at-risk children in Silverhills and Bridge, of all things, was teaching electronics at a polytechnic college in Angel Grove - he wasn't sure if he pitied the students or not, although in all fairness Bridge didn't ramble or go off on tangents as much as he used to. That just left him and Sky in New Tech and it should be strange that Sky was the one he knew the least about, but it wasn't - this was Sky, after all.

Enough was enough though. Sky had still come to help when everything went to hell, that meant that in spite of everything he still cared. Or at least, he still felt responsible for the cadets he'd trained. He scowled as the angry words from earlier echoed in his mind, torn between regret for what he'd said and knowing that he'd had to say it anyway - no one else would. Sky was isolating himself, cutting himself off from the world and he wasn't about to let that happen, not again, especially not now. Not when the war they'd been waiting for, the war they'd hoped would never come, had finally erupted.

He hesitated outside Sky's door, wondering if Sky was back yet - he'd taken the short cut, but Sky'd had a pretty fair head-start on him so he could be back by now. Bracing himself he rapped on the door and waited to see if it would open. If Sky wasn't back yet, he'd wait until he was - this conversation had been a long time coming and it wouldn't wait any longer.

The door opened and Sky stood there, arms folded, expression flat and forbidding. Too bad that look hadn't worked on him. Ever.

"What do you want?" was the hostile question but Jack ignored the tone, shrugging casually, hands shoved in his pockets.

"We didn't finish our conversation," he replied lightly. "Thought we'd finish it here. At least that way by the time we get to yelling at each other and throwing punches there won't be anyone around to interrupt us this time." He was only partially joking about throwing punches - he didn't think they'd get to that point, but it wasn't something he'd bet on. They'd gotten pretty close to it before, back at what was left of the base, before the girls had forcibly broken them apart.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Sky told him dismissively and shut the door in his face. Again, too bad that trick didn't work on him either. He stepped through the closed door without a second thought.

"You know," he said calmly, "if you're going to shut the door in a guy's face, you might want to make sure it's not someone who can walk through it anyway."

Sky turned back to face him, not looking the least bit surprised to see him standing in the middle of the room. "I don't have anything to say to you," he repeated and Jack shrugged again.

"Fine. Then you can listen."

The former blue ranger turned away. "Go away, Jack."

"Not gonna happen. You know what's happening, Sky. This is the war the Petrellis warned us about, the Meta war. Only someone who was pyrokinetic could do that kind of damage to the Delta base, you know that as well as I do." There was no response and Sky was avoiding his gaze.

Jack took a quick glance around the apartment, gathering his thoughts into something resembling order, and mentally noted that if he hadn't known otherwise he would never have believed Sky lived here. Oh, it wasn't a mess by most people's standards, but by Sky's anal tidiness? the place was a dump - the past few months had not been good to Sky, although that was partly the ex-ranger's own fault, his stubbornness wouldn't let him accept help from anyone and he was literally self-destructing. Well, not anymore; they needed the old Sky back and he was going to do that, one way or another. "Look," he said, moderating his tone slightly so it was less confrontational, "I know how important SPD was to you and--"

"What do you know?" Sky spat, his anger showing through now. "You have no idea--"

"SPD was your life!" Jack yelled back. "We all knew that, Sky, you think we didn't? This is hard for all of us and I know how you must be feeling, but--"

"Don't pretend you know what I feel," Sky hissed. "You have no idea."

"Then tell me!" Jack snapped, body tensing, readying itself for the fight he knew was coming. "Tell me, because you can't keep it all in, I thought you'd learned that by now." Although the odds of Sky simply talking about this were about the same as Gruumm finding religion and repenting his sins, dedicating his life to helping small children and mistreated animals.

"I don't have to tell you anything." Yeah, that's what he'd thought. Typical Sky, could never do things the easy way.

"The hell you don't. You haven't been yourself since you left and the Sky I know wouldn't just sit back and do nothing except feel sorry for himself while a war comes crashing down on us. You're bitter which is understandable, but people have died, Sky and more are going to die if we don't do something. You can't stay out of this, and the Sky I know wouldn't." The Sky he knew would be the first to start planning strategy, how best to defend themselves against another attack, how to organise and restructure to the best of their abilities.

"Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you thought."

It was almost a physical blow, that last cutting statement; flat, hard, unforgiving and Sky's eyes bored into him, the bitterness so obvious you wouldn't need to be an ESPer to read it there. They'd left Sky alone because they thought he needed space to get himself back together and start letting them in again, but maybe that had been a mistake. Letting Sky deal with everything on his own had simply reinforced his isolation and they were paying for it - Sky wasn't the same, not even close, and he hadn't even been like when Jack had first met him. Sure, he'd been closed off and resentful but there wasn't the bitterness that was here now.

"No," he said stiffly. "I guess you're right, I don't know you anymore. Maybe I never did."

That said, he turned on his heel and headed out of Sky's apartment before he said something he'd regret later and wouldn't be able to fix.

Sky watched Jack go, his hands clenching reflexively as the former red ranger stalked out of his apartment, until his anger vanished a moment later - replaced with chagrin and frustration. Oh, well done, he told himself derisively. That went well.

Jack hadn't even bothered to use the door as he left, walking straight through the wall and that said a lot about how upset the other man had been. Normally Jack respected the fact that most people couldn't walk through solid matter, but when he was upset or angry enough he forgot that little things like walls and closed doors were supposed to be barriers and just walked right through them. In times like these, when it wasn't a good thing to be seen as Meta, it would take a lot for Jack to forget his survival instincts like that and risk drawing attention to himself, unless he was trying to make a point anyway, but obviously he hadn't been thinking straight as he left. Well, of course he wasn't, he snapped to himself. He was pissed off, who thinks clearly when they're that angry? Not him, that was for sure, and he'd spent so much of his early time around Jack angry, you'd think he'd be used to it by now, but apparently that wasn't the case.

He sighed as even the frustration drained out of him, leaving behind something very like despair. At least Jack had come after him in the first place, that said something, and what had he done? What he always did - pushed him away. Every time Jack, or anyone else, got too close, or tried to get close, he pushed them away. He'd thought he'd gotten over that reaction a long time ago but it seemed that he hadn't. Or maybe in the year since he'd been kicked out of SPD he'd fallen back into his old habits. A humourless smile touched his lips - Jack had been right about one thing, he was bitter and more than just a little. SPD had been his life and to have it all taken away from him the way it had been… well, he defied anyone to not be angry about it, but that didn't mean he should take it out on the people closest to him. They'd rallied around him at what was the darkest moment of his life to date and at the time he'd appreciated the support their resignations had given him, appreciated it more than he could admit to himself, let alone them, but whether they agreed or not, he'd effectively destroyed their careers. It didn't matter that they'd gone on to do other things with their lives, they'd all had bright futures ahead of them with SPD and he'd ruined that for them, which was partly why he'd pulled away from them in the first place. Or mostly why he'd pulled away.

He walked tiredly over to the sink and stared down into the full bowl of washing that needed doing - unable to quite comprehend how it had mounted up the way it had - before turning his back on it again with a sigh. It had waited this long, it could wait a while longer. His eyes wandered back to the wall Jack had stormed through and the wave of loneliness he'd been suppressing in the months that had followed his dismissal from SPD washed over him, refusing to be ignored anymore. He knew what he was doing, knew how self-destructive it was and he didn't like the person he'd become since the attack that had ended his career. He just didn't know how to stop and reach out to someone again.

Peter walked into Nathan's meeting, told him, "You need to hear this," and walked out again before he could react.

Nathan had spent all day in hastily-convened meetings, running on too much coffee and too little information. Peter's information…the one time he'd actually answered his phone…was too sketchy, even for Peter, and Matt hadn't been much better; the conversations had been full of "Well, we don't know yet," and "They're not sure" and "We'll know more later." The last thing he'd heard was from SPD's official liaison, calling from the DMA centre to warn him that Matt and Peter had dropped off three refugees from the SPD base without stopping to explain. Hiro, sent to retrieve them, came back alone, claiming they'd refused his help.

Nathan now dismissed the group he'd been meeting with…some of the highest ranking people in the country…and headed for the office Peter customarily used when he was in the building. Though he didn't officially work for the DMA, he spent a lot of time near Nathan for the sake of his occasionally tenuous control and did occasionally take jobs when Nathan asked him to.

Matt was leaning against the wall just inside the door; Nathan barely acknowledged him, eyes on Peter, who was sitting with his head in his hands. "Pete?"

"I'm fine," Peter said without looking up. "It just…I'm fine."

Nathan moved around the desk, crouching and touching the side of Peter's face. "Ok?"

"Yeah." Peter dropped his hands, meeting Nathan's eyes finally. "Yeah, I'm ok."

"Ok," Nathan repeated, shoving back to his feet and leaning against the wall where he was; he could see both of them from here. "So what happened down there?"

"Manx thinks it may have been an alien," Peter told him. "But it was one of us, Nathan."

Nathan nodded. "We're still checking the List, but we've picked up three pyrokinectics in and around New Tech so far. What's the damage?"

"The base was totally razed. There's nothing left." Matt pushed off the wall, dropping into the chair in front of the desk. "They lost something like forty four percent of their staff and cadets."

"Jesus," Nathan breathed. Peter's eyes were locked on the desk in front of him, and Nathan leaned over to touch his shoulder. "Peter, was that…"

Peter flinched away from him. "Don't. I'm…just don't, ok?"

Nathan glanced at Matt, who shrugged faintly.

"I'm fine," Peter repeated irritably. "I'm just tired, ok?"

"Yeah," Nathan agreed. Turning away, he filled a glass of water and offered it to Peter. Peter stared at it; grimacing, Nathan set it down on the desk and then retreated to stand beside Matt's chair. It must have been bad, he thought, to trigger Peter's personal space issues so hard. Peter had worked hard to overcome those issues and they only resurfaced when he was overwhelmed or really tired.

Peter took the glass, staring at it. "The Rangers were there," he said dully.

"The Ran…the current ones? One of them's Meta, isn't he?"

Peter didn't answer, staring into his glass, and Matt hurried to fill in. "No. I mean, yes he is, and yes he was there…not much hurt, either…but he means the old ones. The ones who were active when we were there. Bridge and the others."

"He one of the kids you dropped off at the DMA?"

"Rangers," Matt said automatically, but Peter was looking up.

"What? Nathan?"

"You dropped three people off," Nathan reminded him.

Peter gestured impatiently. "I know that, I'm not…who told you?"

Nathan blinked, blanking on the name. "The guy down there. The liaison. He said you dropped three people off and left."

"Boom, Sam and Nova," Matt told him. "Sam's the Meta, he teleports things."

"I remember, he helped us catch Mareesa," Nathan agreed absently. "Pete?"

"I told Kat you wouldn't hear about it," Peter informed his glass. "She doesn't want the DMA getting near the ki—the Rangers. They're a bit…shaken up."

"Ok," Nathan agreed easily. "No one else goes down there, then."

Peter lowered his glass back to the table, placing it very carefully and deliberately. "I need some rest," he said to no one in particular. "What else do you need to know?" he added, looking up to meet Nathan's gaze. "For your meetings?"

"I need to know who did this and how it could happen," Nathan said. "But since you don't know that…"

"It happened because it's the War, Nathan." Peter said it as though Nathan should have known, as though he were remiss for not seeing it at once.

"We stopped the War. Isaac's paintings had it starting almost a year ago."

"We delayed it. We didn't stop it. It's happening, now, and SPD was the first victim."

Nathan glanced at Matt, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. You pay me to hit things."

"I pay you to watch Peter," Nathan snapped, too frustrated to watch what he was saying. Peter knew he needed help, even without constantly getting kidnapped. But his pride made it hard for him to accept help from anyone, even Nathan, and all involved made the effort to pretend he didn't need it.

"Thanks," Peter murmured, and Nathan grimaced at him.

"Isaac hasn't been painting anything lately," Nathan pointed out.

"Yes, he has," Peter said. "He just hasn't been showing it to anyone because it doesn't make any sense. It's all just…fire, or there's a big black one…"

Nathan eyed him warily. "Have you been painting?"

"No."

Nathan kept eyeing him, and Peter caught the look. "No, Nathan, I haven't been painting, or drawing, or doodling. Not for months."

"Why not?"

"I didn't like what I was drawing. So I stopped. Why? Isaac kept painting. We didn't need me as well."

Nathan shook his head quickly. "No, I know. That's not what I meant."

The momentary flash of anger faded and Peter rubbed at his face. "Yeah. Sorry." Nathan leaned across the desk towards him, and he jerked backwards out of reach. "Don't do that. I'm fine."

"Yeah," Nathan murmured, leaning back again. "Yeah. Listen, you want to head home?"

Peter made a face, getting up to refill his glass. "No. Claire's at home, right? I'm not…I probably shouldn't be around people right now."

"OK," Nathan agreed. Peter's office was deliberately far from everyone else so that, when he overloaded, he could recover in privacy. "But I have to go."

"Matt'll hang around. That's what you pay him for, right?" Peter even almost managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Pete…" Nathan started, but Peter waved him off.

"No, never mind, I didn't mean that. Go back to your meeting."

Nathan nodded, heading for the door, and paused just inside. "Peter? You know this wasn't your fault, right? There's no way you could have known. Nothing you could have done."

"Yeah." Peter sat back down, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "I know that, Nathan. Doesn't make it any easier."

"No…Matt? Talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah," Matt agreed, levering himself to his feet. "Peter, I'm gonna get you something to eat, ok?"

"Not hungry," Peter said automatically, folding his arms on the desk and laying his head on them.

"Uh-huh, sure. Won't be long." Matt followed Nathan out, closing the door behind them.

Nathan waited until they were halfway down the corridor before asking, "Is he ok?"

Matt's eyes were far away. "It was bad there, Nathan. Half their people died. Most of them thought they were gonna…and I wasn't even listening. They were broadcasting so hard it was almost overwhelming. That Meta, Bridge, he was in trouble…he focuses his shielding through his gloves, anchors them that way, and he'd burnt his hands."

"No gloves," Nathan murmured. "And Peter?"

"I'm not sure. He was ok while we were there; he talked to Cruger, and to Kat and some of the others, and he was fine. But it's drained him."

"Yeah. Try and get him to rest."

"Trying to get him to stay awake'd be harder," Matt said wryly, pausing as the corridor split. "I'm gonna get him something to eat; he hasn't had anything since we left here this morning."

"Yeah, about that," Nathan said to his back. Matt paused, looking back, and Nathan continued, "Peter came bursting into my office, demanding to leave, before any reports hit the news. Before anything had even happened, almost; within five minutes of the attack starting. How'd he know?"

Matt shrugged. "How does Peter do the things he does? Maybe he had a vision."

"Did he? You were with him."

Matt frowned. "Nathan…"

"Did he?" Nathan repeated, and Matt shook his head.

"I was in the toilet, Nathan. I had to chase him up six flights of stairs, and he was flying." Matt grimaced at the memory.

"Yeah," Nathan murmured again. "Well, however he found out, I guess it was lucky for us, huh? I'll start petitioning Congress for aid."

"SPD won't accept it. But go ahead. I'm gonna…" Matt gestured over his shoulder towards the canteen, and Nathan waved him off.

By the time Matt got back to the office Peter was on his feet, pacing in a fairly erratic circle. Matt stepped around him to leave the tray on the desk; Peter dropped into one of the seats, poking listlessly at it.

"Mystery meat. Wonderful." He dropped the fork, looking up at Matt. "Well?"

"It's fine. He's still on our side." Seating himself opposite Peter, he added, "For now."