Never Too Late
Rita frowned.
She'd seen neither hide nor hair, so to speak, of Zedd all day. She knew
he got depressed around Christmas; she hated the stupid human holiday as
well. Usually, however, he stormed around the castle grumbling to himself.
This silence was not like him.
Suddenly she
heard the sound of the television blaring away in one of the rooms. After
the temporary destruction of the Machine Empire, Zedd and Rita had moved
back into the castle, knowing that Mondo would be too busy rebuilding himself
and his empire to bother him. Goldar and Rito had insisted on hooking up
the TV set to a pirated satellite signal, and now watched the thing nearly
twenty-four hours a day.
Striding into
the room to tell them to turn it down, Rita received a shock. Zedd was
sitting on the couch, watching the television absorbedly. Plus, he was
in his natural form, that of a sandy-haired man in his mid-forties. Looking
at the TV, Rita frowned. Zedd appeared to be watching the tail end of a
Christmas special, of all things.
"Zedd?" she
screeched. "What are you watching?"
"Huh?" The Lord
of Evil looked up. "Uh- 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas,'" he admitted
sheepishly. "I used to read that story to my daughter to get her to go
to sleep on Christmas Eve," he mused, more to himself than to Rita. The
witch made a face. Zedd was getting maudlin about his deceased wife and
daughter again, and she hated it.
"Well, Zeddy,
it's Christmas! How are we going to make the Rangers miserable this year?"
"We're not,"
Zedd replied, rising to his feet. "You can do whatever you want, Rita.
I'm going out."
"What? Where?"
Rita was astounded. Zedd never passed up the opportunity to get in on the
chance to make the Power Rangers miserable.
"Just out. Don't
wait up- as if you would anyhow." Zedd disappeared in a flash of red, leaving
an extremely worried Rita behind. Could the love potion that she had given
him FINALLY be wearing off? She'd have to talk to Finster about that. If
Zedd wasn't in love with her any more, their marriage ceremony wouldn't
mean squat. Not that it necessarily did anyway. If only she knew that those
mercenaries had done the job... Firmly, she pushed that out of her mind.
Nothing was going to go wrong. Still- she'd better go find Finster.
"You want another
one of those?" Chuck, the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sure," Zedd
replied, pushing his empty shot glass back at the bartender. "I can hold
my liquor. And besides, I'm not driving."
"Okay," the
man sighed, and poured Zedd his third whiskey. Zedd took it and sipped
slowly, feeling the alcohol slowly burn a path down his throat. He snorted
to himself. His people, the Zarakin, had raised the consumption of potent
drinks to an art form. He'd swallowed things that would knock most Earthlings
back on their haunches. It was going to take a lot of work to get drunk
off of Earth whiskey, but what did he have but time?
Zedd looked
up as someone sat next to him, and his jaw almost hit the floor. The barstool
beside him had been taken by none other than Tommy Oliver, leader of the
Zeo Rangers. Easy, Zedd, he cautioned himself. You're in your
Zarakin form. He has no idea who you are. He had knowingly chosen a
bar in Angel Grove, feeling a strange connection to the town. However,
he had never thought he would run into one of the Rangers there. Suddenly
another question occurred to him. Tommy was only eighteen years old, and
looked younger. How on Earth did he expect to get a drink?
His question
was answered as Chuck approached. "What'll it be?" he asked, sizing up
the teen with a practiced eye.
"Beer," Tommy
replied. "Sapporo." Privately, Zedd was impressed with Tommy's taste. Sapporo
was a very good Japanese beer.
"Draft or bottled?"
the man inquired. "And I'll need to see some ID."
Tommy nodded,
sliding a driver's license across the bar. "Draft, please. A big mug."
The bartender
scrutinized the license, then Tommy. The Red Ranger gave the larger man
a half-smile. "I'm older than I look."
"Must be," Chuck
nodded. Turning away, he drew the beer and placed it on the bar in front
of Tommy. Zedd was interested to note that the boy took a long swallow,
not even flinching at the bitter taste.
Waiting until
the bartender was busy somewhere else, Zedd turned to Tommy. Swallowing
his whiskey, he looked over at the license that still lay face up on the
bar. "That's a very good fake ID," Zedd remarked casually. "Make that yourself?"
Tommy raised
an eyebrow at the man sitting next to him. "I don't know what you mean,"
he replied coolly, taking another sip of his beer. Zedd chuckled.
"Hey, I don't
care if you're underage. Not my problem. I've just seen a lot of fake ID's
in my time, but few that good. It almost looks real."
"You a cop?"
"Not hardly.
Ex-bartender," Zedd lied. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like talking
to someone. And, crazy as it sounded, he knew he could trust Tommy Oliver
to listen.
"Yeah, well-
no, I didn't make it. I had a friend, back in LA, before I moved to Angel
Grove. She was really good at that. We used to go out, hit the bars, have
a couple drinks together." Tommy admitted. He, too, was feeling the need
to talk.
"But you're
alone tonight." It wasn't a question, but Tommy answered anyway.
"Yeah. It's
Christmas, and I'm alone. My girlfriend left me almost a year ago. February,
it was. No warning, no nothing, just 'Tommy, I've met someone else.'" He
sighed. "Then my two best friends, the only two of my old friends left
in Angel Grove, they moved away. One four months ago, one two. I miss 'em,
so I just figured I'd drown my sorrows in a beer or three." He took another
sip of his beer. "So what's your story?"
Zedd sighed.
"I'm just remembering my wife and daughter. They died a long time ago.
Normally I can live with it, but Christmas, it just gets too hard. You
know what I mean?" Too hard was an understatement. This was the reason
that he had always hated Christmas. Normally, as Lord Zedd, he could bury
the memories away, but at Christmas, they all came surging up again.
"Oh, yeah, I
know what you mean," Tommy replied. He was having trouble keeping images
of the Christmases that he had spent with Kimberly from overwhelming him.
That was one of the reasons that he was looking forward to getting drunk.
The alcohol would numb his emotions, at least for a while.
"You know,"
Zedd began, then stopped. Was he actually going to offer Tommy some advice?
Seeing
how badly I've screwed up my own life, he thought bitterly,
I'm
not sure that's a good idea. Still, he couldn't help identifying with
the young man. "One thing I've learned is that when you love somebody,
it's never to late to tell them. As long as they live, its never too late,
but when you lose them, it's gone forever."
"Yeah," Tommy
replied, "but what if you've lost them already?"
Several drinks and a long conversation later, Zedd was helping Tommy out of the cab he had called for the younger man. He's completely helpless, Zedd thought to himself. He's probably too drunk to morph. The image of Tommy slurring the words to his morphing call made Zedd chuckle for a moment, but then he sobered. I could destroy him now, but- I don't want to. Must be this stupid human holiday. I'm getting soft. Watching Tommy stumble up the walk and fumble for his door key, Zedd quickly checked for onlookers. Seeing none, he morphed back into his sorcerous form and pointed his staff at Tommy. With a whispered incantation, he cast a short spell and then changed back to normal. He watched, satisfied, as the boy entered his house. A short time later, a light went on in one of the upstairs windows, and Zedd teleported out, chuckling to himself. Wouldn't Tommy be surprised when he woke up in the morning without a hangover?
In Florida, on
Christmas Eve, a slightly tipsy Kimberly Hart was staggering back to her
room. "Definitely too much eggnog," she thought to herself. She hadn't
really intended to drink as much as she had at the holiday party, but it
was the only way to kill the memories that kept threatening to intrude.
Memories of Tommy.
"Stop that!"
she scolded herself. "It's over and done with. He's probably moved on with
his life right now, and so should you. It's too late to do anything about
it."
She opened her
door, more by leaning on it than anything else. As she staggered inside,
she was surprised to see the lights already on and someone already there.
Instinctively, she fell back into a defensive stance, as the person inside
did the same. Then she blinked. "Tommy? What are you doing here?"
Tommy ran a
hand through his long, dark, hair. "Damned if I know. I was in my room
reading when there was a flash of white light, and here I was. At first,
I thought Zedd or Mondo was trying something. I guess that's not the case."
"I guess not,"
Kim replied, shutting the door behind her. Good thing I have a single,
she thought to herself. I wouldn't like explaining how the hell Tommy
got here. Aloud, she asked, "So, why didn't you call Zordon to teleport
you home?"
"I tried that.
Something's blocking my communicator," he replied.
"Weird."
"Yeah." They
sat in silence for a while, her in her desk chair, him on her bed. That
arrangement was sending thoughts through her mind that she didn't want
to particularly acknowledge, so she cast around for something to talk about.
"So, Rocky tells
me you're with Kat now," she ventured. He smiled slightly.
"Not really.
She's just a friend- just a comfort." He looked at her for a long moment.
"I was talking to someone the other night, who said it was never too late
to tell someone how you felt about them. Since I'm here, I might as well
tell you. I still love you, Kimberly, and I always will."
Kimberly felt
all of the starch go out of her. If she hadn't already been sitting down,
she would have collapsed. "What? Even after the letter?"
He nodded. "Yes.
I know you've found someone else, but I still love you, no matter what.
I-" Anything else he might have said was interrupted by Kimberly's enthusiastic
lunge. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, with her on top
of him, kissing him passionately. He wanted nothing more than to lie there
and enjoy it, but his usual sense of ethics intervened and he gently pushed
her a little bit away.
"Kim- don't
think I don't want- but what about your boyfriend?" She stared down at
him with wide, dark eyes.
"I don't have
a boyfriend, Tommy," she told him quietly. "I made him up. I didn't want
you to be tied down to me, when I was so far away, so-" It was his turn
to cut her off with a kiss. Her arms slipped around his neck, and then
he suddenly pulled back again.
"Kim, have you
been drinking?" he asked, puzzled.
She giggled.
"Just a little eggnog," she replied. He sighed, half in frustration, half
in resignation.
"Kimberly, you're
drunk," he told her. "You probably have no idea what you're doing right
now."
"Oh, I have
a pretty good idea," she replied. She was still on top of him, and now
her hands ran down his chest.
"Kim, stop it,"
he told her, fighting to keep his voice steady.
"Tommy," she
told him seriously, "I'm not drunk. I'm a little buzzed, I'll admit, but
I'm in full command of my faculties. Now, I haven't seen you or talked
to you in nearly a year. Do you blame me for wanting to get closer?"
"I-" Tommy never
got to finish as she lowered her lips to his neck and every neuron in his
brain shut down. "Chaperone?" he managed.
She shook her
head, smiling. "They trust us to make our own decisions," she replied.
Looking over at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was midnight.
"Merry Christmas, Tommy Oliver."
He smiled up
at her. "Merry Christmas, Kimberly Hart." Then he reached up to her, and
there was no more talking for the rest of the night.
Far above the
planet, on the moon, another pair of eyes abruptly stopped watching the
scene. Satisfied that his gift had worked out as planned, Zedd scanned
the skies above the Earth. "Merry Christmas, Red Ranger," he whispered.
"And thank you for listening to me."
