Author's Notes: Thank God! I can breathe again! Life has calmed down and I am finally able to get the update for this story. Just a few chapters left, and then the third piece of the trilogy will follow along. Whoo :)

Saejima Kouga: Thank you! I'm glad you took the time to read through :) I'm not big on the smutty ness unless it's a scene I feel would fit in some way. PWP has its place, just not here for now. Hehe. Happy holidays to you!

"Here, Power Ranger. Eat this."

Rocky watched as a Cog slid a plate underneath the bars of his holding cell. Whatever was on it, it wasn't what he'd consider food by any means. It was some kind of…grey slop, almost like mushed snow. The sight of it was disgusting, but his stomach growled. He had been trapped for who knew how long—hours, days, maybe even a week—and had only been fed once or twice the entire time.

He hated that his immediate reaction was to be grateful. Grateful should have been the last word he'd ever use to describe an interaction with a Cog. What upset him more was that the Cog was the only other thing he had seen since…well, however long ago it was that Machina had come to him, teasing him with his Zeonizers. He felt anger bubble up inside of him, but hunger quickly overran it.

Carefully, Rocky picked up the plate, watching it shake slightly in his hands. He'd been in Health and Anatomy class long enough to know that his blood sugar was low, causing him to tremble. And that by no means was a good thing.

"God, what is this?" he asked out loud, looking at the goop.

Rocky dipped the tip of his pinky finger into it, dabbing it onto his tongue. He couldn't really get a flavor profile from it, but all that mattered was that he could eat it. He knew that while he might not like it, he might possibly not see anything for quite some time. So, with a heavy heart and an empty stomach, he began using his finger to scoop clumps of the goo into his mouth. It left a strange, sticky sensation behind, which made Rocky feel grimy and gross. Then again, having not showered for a while, he was becoming uncomfortably familiar with that feeling.

"Oh, I take it the food is quite delicious, Blue Ranger!"

That voice. Rocky couldn't help it—his surprise coupled with his trembling hands caused the plate to slip and fall onto the floor. He'd only finished about half of the stuff on the plate, and he watched with horror as the rest of it spilled over the dirty, sticky metallic surface below.

When he looked up he saw King Mondo with two Cog attendants. He recoiled, lifting himself up and back toward the wall. "What do you want, Mondo?"

"Why, to see my prisoner, of course. Why else would I be here?"

"Well, you can turn right the hell around and go back. I'm not here for your amusement."

"Oh, but my dear boy, you are! You haven't the slightest idea just how much you are. Cogs!"

King Mondo stepped back. Rocky watched curiously as one of the Cogs opened the cell door. When both stepped in, he tried fighting them off, but the exhaustion from little sleep and poor quality food left him with enough energy to let out one outburst—and all it managed to do was knock the Cogs back a few steps. They came right after him again, each one gripping his arm like a vice.

"Let me go, you damn bastards! Let me go!"

Rocky struggled within their grasp, trying to lift his legs up so he could kick them. The Cogs remained safely out of the way, much to his frustration, and he continued to fight, up until he tired himself out. It upset him how quickly that point of exhaustion came.

Though Mondo's face could not express the same emotions as a human's, Rocky could have sworn he was gleeful.

"Come with me, ranger. I have a special present to show you that I think will leave a lasting impression upon you."

"Let me go!"

Rocky continued to fight the Cogs with every fiber of his being, but it was no good. They had a firm grip on him and weren't letting go any time soon. They all but dragged him down a long, dimly lit corridor, through which Rocky could hear the sounds of gears turning, steam blowing and metal clanking. He couldn't really see where they were going, but eventually they entered a small, square room with a red glow that came from lights above the entryway.

The Cogs thrust him into a metal chair situated in the corner near a large, boxy machine. Immediately he thought it might be some kind of hypnosis or brainwashing tool. He strained against their hold on him, only to have the Cogs strap down his arm and ankles. One of the Cogs smacked his recovering ankle for good measure, making Rocky twist and writhe in the chair.

"Get away from me!" he growled through gritted teeth. "What is this, Mondo? What are you trying to pull here?"

"Oh, relax, ranger, you're going to make yourself faint from all the theatrics."

Mondo went over to the machine beside Rocky and began fidgeting with it. Rocky didn't see it before, but attached to it were a few cords that led to a bowl helmet. He didn't need to be told twice to know that whatever Mondo had in mind, it involved him and that helmet. Panic began to spread through Rocky like wildfire. How was he supposed to fight this when he felt exhausted, and even worse, didn't have his powers?

"This wonderful device is going to remind you just how powerful the Machine Empire is, my lovely boy," Mondo said, somewhat distractedly. He continued to press a few buttons until the machine gave a series of beeps. "Ah, finally. It's prepared. You see, ranger, there is something that you humans experience that we androids do not. Do you know what that is?"

"Compassion?" Rocky spat out. "Love? Kindness? Decency?"

Mondo laughed. "Oh, what a mouth you have on you, boy. No, by no means. The answer I was looking for was fear."

"That's a load of shit," Rocky replied. He couldn't be bothered that expletives were leaving him so freely. Mondo deserved no less.

"Ah, but it isn't. We do not know the emotion at all, thankfully. But the glory of the matter is, you humans do! And this machine will happily allow me to inflict you with a healthy dose of it."

Rocky blinked. "What do you mean?"

The king of the Machine Empire chuckled deviously. "Oh, you shall see. Say goodbye to the world as you know it, Blue Ranger, for what you'll see next is going to turn it upside down."

. . . . .

Adam stared all around him. The slightest provocation, the slightest movement—he could make too much noise and draw attention to himself. As he walked through the dark, metallic corridor, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He heard every little sound, right down to the gentle crunch that came from his boot touching the floor.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here successfully. He couldn't remember Billy, Alpha or Zordon informing him of the force field being taken down, nor could he recall teleporting here. However, what mattered was that he had arrived. He was in the palace and ready to save Rocky from certain doom.

He started at the sound of mechanical whizzing somewhere nearby. Carefully he slipped in between two thin metal columns—he barely fit. He kept completely silent, watching a pair of Cogs walk by him none the wiser. Apparently in this lighting, the vibrant green of his suit wasn't as colorful as he thought it would be. He was going to take it as a sign of good luck. If the Cogs couldn't see him, then he had a stronger chance of getting out of here safely with Rocky.

Once he heard them disappear down the hall, Adam slipped out from between the columns and continued again along the path. Although he really had no idea where he was going, he let his intuition guide him. It had seemingly done a good job so far, being strong enough to lead him to his current location. At the fork in the road ahead of him, it told him to turn left, and so he did. The further down the hall he got, the more he began to notice the reddish hue that permeated it.

Eventually Adam reached a small room stained with red light. It reminded him of a photo lab. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, but when they did, they fell upon a sight for sore eyes.

"Rocky!"

Adam tried his best to keep his declaration hushed, but it was hard—oh, was it hard; especially when he started to take in the full sight of him, complete with bruised, swollen eyes and welts all over his body. Horrified, the Green Ranger ran toward his boyfriend, not realizing how convenient it was that he'd been able to so easily stumble upon Rocky.

"God, Rocky, what did they—"

His words were cut off by a maniacal pair of laughing voices. Adam turned his head quickly to see both King Mondo and Queen Machina. Fueled by anger, he retrieved his Zeo Pistol and pointed it at them. It seemed like such a miniscule weapon in the face of such great evil, but it was all he could do.

"Did you really think we would make it quite so simple for you to just waltz in and take away our prisoner?" Machina asked, her voice rising with amusement.

Mondo chuckled. "You're braver than we thought, Green Ranger! Or simply foolish!"

"I'm taking him back with me," Adam said with a snarl. "He's not your prisoner, he's my friend."

"Oh, we know he means much more to you than that, ranger. Who are you trying to fool?" Machina shook her head. "Cogs!"

Adam watched with rising panic as at least a dozen Cogs hustled in behind Machina and Mondo. They circled their leaders, their robotic expressions sending chills down his spine. One or two he could handle easily; three or four with some work; five or six if he pushed himself—but this many? He was a goner.

"Catch ya on the flip side!" he said with a triumphant voice, gripping hold of Rocky and pressing the teleportation button on his wrist.

But he went nowhere. Adam found himself still staring at the dangerous group of machines in front of him.

What was this? Why couldn't he teleport?

Okay, he told himself. Now you can begin to really panic.

"What's going on?" he asked hurriedly.

"Silly ranger, you're not going anywhere!" Mondo pointed his staff at him. "Cogs, attack! We take yet another ranger prisoner today!"

"No!"

Adam fired his pistol several times, zapping several Cogs right in the chest. However, despite this, none of them even stumbled. It only seemed to irritate them, causing one to not only snatch his weapon from his hand, but also snap it in half with little effort. He felt several grabby hands tearing him away from Rocky. He yelled in frustration, trying to knock them back with his fists and booted feet.

"No, Rocky!"

Nothing seemed to work. Adam couldn't tear his stare away from the beaten and bloodied body of his partner in crime, his best friend—his lover. He reached out for him, hoping beyond hope that maybe he might just be able to cling on for a moment longer.

"ROCKY!"

Adam used every ounce of his strength to fight off the Cogs. He tore through one, then another, managing to break free for just long enough to dive for the chair in which Rocky sat. It was futile—the Cogs soon had hold of him again and were bringing him back into their greasy, mechanical embrace. Adam knew he was screaming, cursing, letting out more rage than he ever had before. And as the scene around him grew darker and darker, a tight, crushing pain enveloped his heart, jolting him awake.

He shot up in his bed with a terrified gasp.

It took him a few moments to center himself. Adam managed to calm down his panting. His heart was racing still, but no longer did it feel as if it would burst out of his chest.

"Jesus," he said to himself.

They needed to get Rocky back.

They needed to get him back now.

Adam climbed out of bed, running his fingers through his tousled hair. It knitted and dragged against his fingers, letting him know he'd tossed and turned all night. Not that it mattered anyway; he'd been in such a state since Rocky's disappearance four days ago.

After showering and getting ready for the day, Adam gathered up his book bag and headed through the house to the kitchen for breakfast. Everything inside seemed so blissfully normal, so uneventful, that it almost seemed to resonate everything he was going through at a much higher level.

His mother and father were sitting in the adjoining dining room drinking coffee, his mother with her fruit and his dad, his toast. With only a noncommittal, "Morning" in greeting to the both of them, he prepared a bowl of Raisin Bran, took it to the table and joined them in their silent seating. He got three or four bites into his cereal when he saw his dad lower his newspaper and say:

"Why the long face?"

"Nothing," Adam replied automatically. Immediately he felt guilty, knowing that he shouldn't have spoken so brusquely. "Sorry, just…a lot on my plate."

"I was wondering why you've been acting so differently. Anything you need to talk about?"

"We're always here for you, Adam," his mother said, looking at him over the rim of her thin glasses. "You can always talk to us."

Something about the kindness of their words made Adam sick—not so much because of the innate fear he felt of sharing things with them nowadays, but because of the simple fact that he couldn't. Telling them about what he couldn't stop worrying about would not only reveal that his identity as a Power Ranger, but also that Rocky meant much more to him than just a friend. The more he thought about it, the tighter he gripped his spoon. Rocky's bloodied face suddenly entered his mind.

"It's nothing," he said again, with more force, this time as an attempt to convince himself. "I just have a busy couple of weeks coming up and I'm a little worried about school, that's all."

Never mind that Rocky's been missing for four days, having God only knows what done to him, and here I am, talking about school. School!

"You've never had trouble in school," his father said. "You'll do just fine, son."

"Thanks, Dad."

It was like pulling teeth to get those words out of him, due to the sole fact that he was beginning to feel his façade cracking. Adam prided himself on being composed, calm, well put-together. But how was he supposed to feel that way when he was slowly ripping apart at the seams?

"You know, if you ever need any help, you can always talk to your cousin, Kyung. He's always been one of the best academics our family has seen in ages!"

His mother's words were like salt on an open wound after what he'd heard from her at the Christmas party. Adam tried to smile, but he felt his mood morph it into something dry and distant.

"Thanks, Mom."

Yes, he thought irritably, just let me know a little bit more how much you disapprove of my decision. Just twist my arm a little more.

Adam said nothing further at the table that morning. He couldn't even bear to finish eating his cereal; the bile within his stomach had overtaken his appetite and left him feeling sick. He gave them little more than a good-bye when he left for school that day, fully prepared to walk.

He needed to burn off some energy—and fast.