Chapter 1

The fish taco sat before her untouched. She had a love-hate relationship with fish, one heavy on the hate. Across the table, the man dressed primarily in black shoveled nachos and chili into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in months. At least he used a napkin rather than wiping his fingers on his slacks.

"Do you eat like this in front of your students, Mr. Oliver?"

Tommy grinned around a mouthful of nachos but had the courtesy to swallow before replying. "Don't eat in front of them."

"When do you eat lunch?" she questioned. "Come to think of it, where do you eat lunch?" Kate 'KC' Carter, newly hired science teacher at Angel Grove High, had spent her first week eating lunch in the cafeteria when her homeroom students ate their lunch. She hadn't seen Tommy. Nearly every other teacher, but not him. She couldn't blame him for not dining with his students. The cafeteria was noisy, crowded and stunk like the least appetizing combination of overcooked broccoli, sweat socks and hormones anyone could imagine, but it was also like coming home. That had been her school, her lunchroom. It had been where Billy—

"Standing at my desk between third and fourth period," Tommy replied, thankfully cutting into her memories before they did any damage.

"You could sit with me in the lunchroom, you know," KC informed him.

"Aw, I can sit at the cool table?" he smirked and offered her shoulder a playful punch, no real force behind it. "Thanks, but my lunch break is dedicated to tutoring the kids who can't make it to morning tutorial sessions and have to work or babysit their siblings after school."

"Look at you go, still saving the world," she grinned.

The longest serving Power Ranger ducked his head as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment or possibly with delayed response to the Sriracha he had poured over his chili cheese nachos. "Yeah, well, I do what I can," he muttered and cleared his throat. "How was your first week?"

KC shrugged. "I think I'm still in survival mode."

"As are we all," he agreed.

"I just feel like I ought to be doing more. So far it's just been reviewing the safety rules of the lab, reminding them how to behave in a classroom and quizzing them to see how much they've managed to forget over the summer," she sighed and dropped her head to the tabletop with a hard 'thud'. "I was going to be an astronaut or, at the very least, build a better mouse trap."

She felt the heavy hand land consolingly on her shoulder. "You can still build that mouse trap you've always dreamed of," Tommy assured her. "Besides, with your knowledge of physics, you can clean house at Skee Ball and Putt-Putt."

"I do rock the mini golf course," she agreed.

"We should totally do that," he declared, glancing at his watch. "Just not today. Kim's expecting us for dinner." He promptly shoved the last of the nachos into his mouth.

"Is there something I should know about your wife's cooking?" KC questioned, eyes narrowing as the mess disappeared into his distended cheeks.

He looked guiltily down at his plate even as he wiped the last of the cheese off with his finger. "She's been working her way through the cooking section of the bookstore. I didn't mind when it was Italian and Chinese, but it's nothing but French food lately." His face contorted at the idea of having to eat what passed for haute cuisine in the Oliver household.

KC managed to form a sympathetic face, though the thought of having a live-in chef sounded about as close to heaven as one could achieve without actually dying. "Let's hope she's put that on hold for tonight."

"Doubtful," the man grumbled and signaled for the check.

The massive figure made his way over, the jovial smile on his face a far cry from the surly scowl he had worn through his excessive number of years in high school. In the time she had been away, Farkas Bulkmeier had shed his leather gloves, metal studs and punk rebellion in favor of civic pride and a keen business savvy. What he lacked in scholastic aptitude, he more than made up for in the ability to hire a clever accountant and sociable staff. He had taken up Ernie's mantle with gusto, and the Youth Center was as vital and on-trend with the high school students as it had ever been.

"Need that to go?" Bulk questioned.

KC looked down at the taco she hadn't taken even a single bite of, guilt quickly overtaking her long-standing hatred of anything with fins and a tail. "Yeah, thanks, Bulk."

In less than two minutes, the taco was wrapped in waxed paper and placed inside a paper bag with the Youth Center's logo printed proudly in bright colors. It would be going in the trash as soon as she got home, but Bulk didn't need to know that.

Tommy stood, offering Bulk a handshake before moving toward the door. KC lingered by the table, brown eyes taking the building in as she had not dared when they first walked in. The differences were enough to make her feel comfortable. The décor had changed, some of the fitness equipment had been traded out as trends came and went. One thing hadn't changed, though. It was still a safe place for high schoolers. Two boys had entered into an impromptu martial arts competition, throwing punches and kicks. She recognized Jason's style in the taller boy's form, and he would be proud to know that tall boy offered his hand to help the other fighter off the mats. If the Power ever returned to Angel Grove, she knew which of these boys would be selected as leader of the new team.

"KC! You coming?" Tommy's voice called to her.

"Yeah!" she shouted and ran to catch up.

The drive from the Youth Center to the house Tommy and Kimberly had bought the previous year should have taken the better part of thirty minutes. With Tommy driving, they made it in fifteen. His time as a Turbo Ranger had apparently left him with an insatiable need for speed. Even a brief stint as an amateur racecar driver – and subsequent crash that left him with a broken leg – hadn't been enough to slake his inner speed demon.

KC remembered the crash, though she had been across the country when it happened. Tommy had been a rising star in the racing industry. There was talk of a multi-million-dollar contract to join a Formula 1 team. Then the crash happened. Some reports claimed it was an accident, others insisted it was deliberate sabotage. No one could prove either supposition to be true, and, regardless of the details, Tommy was left in traction for a month with nothing to entertain himself besides daytime television and books. Kat had written to her, saying how many books Tommy had started reading, how quickly he was digesting the information and amazed that he was starting to talk in scientific jargon. Before the month was out, Tommy was applying to college to study science – paleontology of all things.

A speed-demon scientist. KC shook her head in amusement at the idea.

Her smile dimmed as the tires screeched, and the car skidded to a stop outside the house. Tommy didn't pull into the driveway. He couldn't. It was full. Cars were parked in two rows from the street to the garage door. Six in all, plus two more in the street.

"Is there something you failed to mention, Mr. Oliver?" she demanded.

"Uh, yeah, about that. Kim was really excited that you were moving back," he hedged and seemed to shrink under her hard glare. "She might have told everyone you were coming home. And they might have planned a 'welcome back' party."

KC groaned. "I hate parties."

"Did I say party? It's not a party. It's a dinner. A really good dinner."

"You said it was French food."

"Yeah, but there won't be any fish."

She considered his words a moment before giving a single, determined nod. "I'm sold."

"Oh, thank God," he sighed.

Her arrival at the house was consumed in a blur of hugs, tears and greetings. She hadn't realized how much she missed everyone she had left behind. At the time, getting away from everyone and everything that had anything to do with him had seemed the only way of keeping herself whole and sane. She had considered the Rangers a cancer and cut them from her life accordingly, but she had been wrong. They weren't to blame for what happened, for him leaving, for her heart breaking.

"Dinner is served!" Rocky declared with a grand gesture toward the dining room.

"Is it pâté and foie gras?" Tommy asked, face pulled into a grimace.

"No, pizza," the man replied with a grin. "Pizza a la De Santos." He stepped aside to make room for the stampede. KC was swept along in the rush, not that she minded. Pizza was possibly one of the greatest of human inventions, and in Rocky's expert hands it could only get better. He applied and was accepted to the California Culinary Academy and packed his bags for San Francisco a month after KC made her run for the East coast. Years later, the name De Santos was one every foodie in the country knew; there wasn't a food critic in the world who hadn't sung his praises – and Rocky had a wall filled with framed reviews to prove it.

His masterpieces this evening included the classics – ham and pineapple, meatball and mushroom, and margherita – as well as some variations – salami and spinach, strawberry and balsamic vinegar, and, what quickly became her absolute favorite, shiitake, chanterelle and goat cheese.

"Oh, my god, is it too late to marry you?" KC moaned as she bit into her fifth slice of the two mushroom and goat cheese pizza.

"Yeah, sorry," Rocky replied with a shrug. "Taken. And gay."

"How long did it take you to figure that out?" Adam questioned.

"About five minutes in San Francisco."

"Stop stomping all over my fantasies," KC whined. "I have the most beautiful image of you cooking me this pizza every night."

Rocky snorted. "I cook all day. The last thing I want to do is cook at home, too."

"Destroyer."

"I live off reheated experiments and Hot Pockets," he insisted.

"Blasphemy! Make it stop!" she cried and threw herself down into the nearest chest, which happened to be Adam's.

He ran a comforting hand down her back and gave her head a reassuring pat. "It's okay. Somewhere, there is a man who will cook for you."

"Really?"

"I'm sure of it. Not me, obviously. I've only managed to fine art of boiling water."

"Plus, you're taken," Tanya prompted.

"Yeah, that, too," Adam added as if it were a minor detail. "But mainly it's the inept in the kitchen thing keeping us apart."

His wife slapped the back of his head, but it was obvious there was no real force or venom behind it. They had all played these games since high school, flirting and pretending and being generally stupid to make up for the weight of responsibility that they had taken up at so young an age. Their classmates had played these games for real, all their happiness dependent on who they dated, but, as Rangers, they all knew better.

KC thought she had been smart enough not to get caught up in that petty game of hearts. She probably had been, but, when you fall, you get broken. And she fell hard.

The doorbell rang, breaking up the silly squabble.

"Did you order pizza?" Rocky questioned, affronted at the very idea that his food wouldn't be sufficient.

"Relax," Kimberly ordered. "It's probably the Home Owner's Association complaining about the cars." She stomped to the door, ready to battle the HOA with as much conviction as she had Rita Repulsa and poverty in third world nations. Her voice carried through the hall as she threw the door wide, "Okay, what do you—"

Her voice dried in her throat, making her croak the final word before falling silent.

In the living room, everyone stopped, straining to catch some clue as to who or what made the spitfire Pink Ranger grow quiet so suddenly. Tommy launched himself to his feet and hurried to the door, his own voice barely audible as he muttered, "Holy shit."