Jason walked with Tommy back to his bike, laying haphazardly in the grass. The other teen slid a plastic grocery bag over his wrist; it contained a large Tupperware bowl stuffed with spaghetti. His belly full for once, he allowed himself to relax somewhat despite his hatred of his current company.

The Red Ranger was silent as Tommy knelt down and righted the bicycle. Glancing back at the house, he could make out the shadow of his mom standing at the front room window.

He ran a hand through the back of his hair and casually cleared his throat.

"You know... if you're ever in the neighborhood, we usually always eat dinner at the same time. If you'd like to come by," he gently offered.

His back to Jason, the Green Ranger's face twisted angrily. He gripped the handlebar so tightly his fingers went numb.

I don't need your pity, asshole. I'm not going to be your pet project.

Tommy woodenly nodded his head and turned to look at Jason over his shoulder.

"Thanks, man. That'd be nice." He bit back the venom he wanted to spew at the Red Ranger along with a well aimed sucker punch.

Lucky for you I still have to play nice, Red.

"Are your parents going to be cool with you being out this late?"

"Its fine."

Jason shifted uncomfortably.

"Alright, I guess I'll see you around school tomorrow? Maybe we can get together and work out?"

"Sure, Jason. That would be perfect."

Slinging a leg over the bike, the Green Ranger stared at his enemy again.

"See you tomorrow."

"See ya, Tommy."

Jason wasn't sure why but that last sentence didn't really seem friendly. He watched Tommy's form disappear off into the darkness. He was a mystery all right. His mom hadn't been able to get any useful information out of him either. The other teen was tight lipped about his parents and home life. He deftly dodged most personal questions.

Taking one last gaze up at the moon, the Red Ranger made his way back inside.

"Well, that Tommy is certainly an interesting fellow," his father commented.

Shutting the front door, Jason nodded silently.

"Look, son. I'm sorry about earlier. You've never given us reason to worry before. I am still concerned about your grades and missing curfew. I know you, Jason. I know when something's eating at you."

His dad sighed deeply.

"I wish you'd let me or your mother help you with whatever it is."

"Dad, I'm fine. Really. I'll work harder at school and getting home on time. I promise."

His mother followed a moody Jason to the doorway of his room.

"What about the blood, Jace? Or the bruises?" she asked softly. "Or the times you are limping?"

The teen turned to face his mother, stunned by her observations.

"I do your laundry, you know; blood stains clothing. And I'm not blind. You think I don't notice but I do."

Slowly, she raised a hand to cup his cheek.

"Is someone hurting you?"

"Mom! No! Seriously. Its just football and martial arts and rock climbing. Sometimes I get hurt; its never a big deal and I know how you get." Guilt caused his voice to hitch. "I'm fine. Honest."

Mrs. Scott held his gaze a moment longer before sighing and lowering her arm.

"Alright, Jason," her voice was sad. It was obvious she knew he was not being entirely truthful. "I do trust you but just promise you'll come to us if you're ever in trouble."

"I promise, mom," he whispered. He started to enter his darkened bedroom and stopped.

"Mom? I think something's not right with Tommy. I know I don't really know him but I just have this bad feeling about him."

She nodded. "I don't think Tommy has a good home life. Maybe if you guys can get to know each other, he'll open up to you. Just be there for him. I'll ask around at work; see if anyone knows his parents. We'll watch out for him, sweetie."

Jason flipped on the light and shut his bedroom door as him mother disappeared down the hall. He leaned against the hard wood, a guilty conscience already needling his stomach. He'd just flat out lied to his mom's face. But there's no way she could ever have heard the truth.

Pushing off from the door, he started to peel his shirt off over his head. Advancing further into the room, he noticed some things weren't quite right. His hackles were up; something smelled sickly sweet like rotten fruit. It was like walking through a fine mist of decay. It was nauseating.

The Red Ranger held his shirt tightly balled in his hands, mind racing, every nerve on edge. Almost panicky, he quickly flung open the closet door, absolutely sure someone would be in there waiting for him. A few shirts swayed with the sudden current of air. Nothing.

Turning, he knelt by his bed and peered underneath. Something was just not right; something was deadly. Nothing to be found there either.

Gripping the edge of the bed to stand, he immediately withdrew his hand as if he'd been shocked. His bed smelled putrid, like death. It was far worse than anything else in the room. Gagging, it seemed like it was intensifying. Eyes watering, he slammed into the door before throwing it open and stumbling to the bathroom. The Red Ranger retched and heaved and vomited mightily, his knees buckling, dropping him in front of the toilet. It was hard to catch his breath.

How in the world did he not smell this until now? It was so strong he could have smelled it from the dining room. His parents hadn't appeared to notice it; nor Tommy.

"Jason!" his mother was yelling, dropping down beside him, her arms going to comfort him.

He recoiled from her touch, shaking his head and gesturing for her to shut the door. Quickly, she closed the bathroom door; in the next instant she was pressing a cold wash cloth to his head. He groaned and rocked back and forth, quivering and shaking. Each minute felt like an eternity as his stomach churned.

Finally, his stomach felt completely empty; he was only bringing up bile now.

"Jason?" his dad's rough, worried voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"I'm...alright...just..." he trailed off. His mother's hand stroked his back.

"I...need to... sleep.. on the..." He heaved again. "Couch..."

Slowly, the nausea ebbed and Jason rested his head on his forearms, still unsure about leaving the safety of the bathroom.

"What was that...smell," he croaked.

"What smell, Jace?" His mother continued to rub his back softly.

"In my room."

"Honey, go look in Jason's room. He said there's a bad odor in there," she called through the door.

Jason heard his father's foot falls move down the hallway and held his breath nervously. After several minutes, his father's voice returned.

"There's nothing in there, Jason. Do you think maybe you're having an "episode," his voice trailed off uncertain.

"He thinks I'm on something," Jason's voice trembled, brokenly. "I really did smell something awful and it made me sick."

His mom sat silent.

"Jason." His father's voice again. "Do we need to go out to the hospital?"

"NO!" Still unsteady, he pulled himself to his feet. He opened the door forcefully. The odor was gone but his dad still stood like a statue blocking his path.

"Do you want me to take a test? I will," Jason wiped his the back of his hand across his mouth. His dark eyes flashed with hurt and anger.

"Maybe its food poisoning?" his mom ventured quietly.

"We all ate the same thing."

Sweat stood out on Jason's forehead and his legs still felt like jello; ducking under his dad's arm, he stalked into the living room and scooped up his jacket.

"Jason Lee Scott! What do you think you're doing?" His dad was hot on his heels.

"I need some air. Just get off my back already!" The slam of the door reverberated in the night's stillness.

"He's grounded. That's it. I don't know what's gotten into him and I don't care. Jason's NEVER acted this way before!" Mr. Scott paced the front foyer.

The petite woman stood quietly, eyes tearful but her expression calm.

"He'll come back," she nodded solemnly. "He'll come back and we'll sort this whole thing out."