Gaby, Emma, Angela, Gunn, the sisters, Alcott, and TransGenics are mine.
Rated PG-13 : Strong sexuality; harsh language, moderate violence.
"Dammit, Wes, pay attention! Wake up!"
"Ow! You throw me on the floor and it's supposed to be my fault?" Wes lay flat on his back on the exercise mat and glared up. But Eric was the master of glares; he shot back a look that could have blistered paint.
"Yes, it's your fault. You're not paying attention. You've been wasting my time all morning. I should never have been able to throw you that easily."
"Geez. Now you're insulting me, too. Anyone ever tell you you're a jerk sometimes?"
"Lots of people think I'm a jerk. I didn't know you agreed with them." An ironic smile crossed Eric's face as he extended his hand.
Wes grimaced. "Sorry. Guess I'm just having a bad day." He let Eric pull him to his feet, then rubbed his back and winced.
"Did I hurt you?" There was a note of concern in Eric's voice now.
"Nah. You know, I feel like I'm coming down with something. Could we cut this short?"
Eric gave him a look that contained both disgust and more concern. "You know, when you're fighting an enemy, he's not going to care if you have a cold."
"Yeah, right. But I'm not fighting an enemy now. Unless you count." He was rewarded by one of Eric's rare laughs.
They were in one of the Silver Guardians' exercise rooms, where they had these combat practices daily, when they could both make it. Both were experts at martial arts, but Eric was a little better and usually took the role of instructor. He claimed Wes was the only Guardian who could give him some real competition. Wes would have suspected him of flattery, if he didn't know Eric so well.
"Okay. Go to the infirmary if you're sick."
"I'm not sick," Wes said. "Just tired, I guess."
"Tired again? Hot date last night?"
"You know better than that. See you later, for the interview?"
"Sure. See ya."
After a quick shower and change, Wes was back in uniform and walking into his office. He sat behind the desk and leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment of attempted relaxation, trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to be infesting his mind for the last few days. When he opened them, they automatically went to the framed picture on his desk, containing a photograph of a pretty, brown-haired young woman. He leaned forward and picked it up, staring at it for several moments.
Distracted from his thoughts by a light knock on the door, Wes looked up and said, "Come in."
The door opened to reveal another pretty young woman, this one with vaguely Latina features and olive skin behind unfashionably large tinted glasses, and frizzy dirty-blonde hair which Wes privately considered to be a particularly unsuccessful dye job. She smiled brightly and walked up to the desk. When she stopped in front of him her smile faltered for a moment. She looked around, her brows drawing together.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
She looked back at him quickly and replaced the smile. "No, just... thought I heard something. Good morning!" She was back to her usual cheerfulness. "How did your workout go?"
"Not so good. I wasn't really feeling up to it."
"That's too bad. You've been looking a little off for a couple of days now."
"Thanks a lot." His voice was sharper than he had intended.
"Sorry. Is the interview this morning still on? And the meeting this afternoon?"
"As far as I know."
"Good. I cleared your schedule for afterwards."
"You did?"
"You wanted to leave early, remember?"
Wes sighed. "I guess. I don't remember telling you. Sometimes I think you read my mind."
She smiled again. "That's what any good assistant is supposed to do. If that's all, I'll see you later."
"Yeah. Thanks, Emma."
He watched her leave the room, her figure swaying pleasantly in slacks and a sweater. Feeling slightly disloyal, he looked back at the picture. Jen. It had been a year now. As of today. He hadn't thought the anniversary of her leaving would be a problem for him, but it brought back the pain and loneliness more than he would have thought possible.
It had been almost a year that he had been working at Bio-Lab as co-commander -- with Eric -- of the Silver Guardians, the company's elite security force. The first six months he had been in training, but now he was increasingly taking on an equal load. As the Guardians expanded, doing work for the city as well as Bio-Lab, and helping both to recover from the disaster of a year ago, the work expanded too. He enjoyed the fieldwork, the action, but he was finding out that a large part of any police or security work involved paperwork and drudgery. But it was in a good cause, and for the most part he liked it.
He knew many people -- including some of the Guardians -- still thought he was a spoiled rich kid who only had his position because his father owned the company. And that might be true, at least partially. Others thought he had it because he was a Ranger. That might be true too, of Eric as well as himself. At least only the Guardians and a few other people at Bio-Lab knew he had been the Red Ranger. And he was determined to show them he deserved his job, and was doing it well.
He was grateful that his friendship with Eric hadn't suffered from working together. Eric had been as good as his word; despite his natural competitiveness, he didn't seem to mind sharing the command he had held alone before Wes was hired. They had been friends for just about a year, too. Wes smiled, remembering what it had been like before. There was a time they had hated each other, and fought more than once, both verbally and physically. But they had learned to respect, and eventually to trust each other. And finally they had become allies, and friends.
Since then Eric hadn't lost his edge. He was still frequently blunt to the point of rudeness, sometimes moody, and always oversensitive about any real or imagined insult. But he was also kind and loyal, under the tough exterior, and surprisingly good company, thanks to a sharp mind and a surprising sense of humor. And there was no one Wes would rather have at his side in a crisis.
Wes looked back down at his cluttered desk. The work didn't care what day it was. With a sigh he put down the picture and picked up the first of the schedules he had to go over. It had to be done today, and he had the interview for the new computer security person in an hour and the meeting this afternoon. And then, hopefully, home. He rubbed his forehead with another sigh, feeling a headache coming on.
This sucks. Gaby sat in a small reception area outside the Bio-Lab offices, contemplating how much she hated interviews. And with a guy named Wesley. Probably a real geek. Since he was the boss's son, he was probably an egotistical geek, too. And you're probably being totally unfair to the poor guy, she thought. But a little unfairness helped to pass the time, and settle her nerves just a little.
She was still smiling at her own thoughts when a woman with big glasses and a mop of blonde hair stopped in front of her. "Gabriella Butler?" she asked.
"Yes." Gaby stood up and shook hands.
"Hi, I'm Emma Cambiado, Wes Collins' assistant. He's ready to see you now."
Lucky me. Aloud, she said, "Thanks."
After a walk through enough hallways to ensure Gaby would get lost trying to get out on her own, they stopped in front of an office door. Emma waved her on, saying, "Don't be nervous. Wes is a great guy." As Gaby started in she caught a mischievous smile on the other woman's face as she added, "It's Eric you have to watch out for."
As the door closed behind her, Gaby faced two men, one leaning propped against the front of the desk, the other standing behind it. They were both about her age, both attractive, both dressed in military-looking navy blue uniforms with red berets and red braid around one shoulder. But that was where the similarity ended. The one behind the desk had an open face and was instantly likeable. The other one was darker, and harder. His eyes showed mixed Asian ancestry and were staring at her now the way she imagined an entomologist would examine a strange new specimen.
"Eric, give her a chair," the one behind the desk said. The dark-haired man grabbed a chair next to him and shoved it in her general direction. She moved it into a better position and sat, self-consciously smoothing her slacks and suddenly wishing she had dressed better and done something about her messy brown hair.
"I'm Wes Collins," the blond man said, sitting down. "Mr. Charm here is Eric Myers." The dark man snorted derisively.
She stared at him, impressed in spite of herself. Eric Myers, the Quantum Ranger. She had known he worked for Bio-Lab, but hadn't expected to meet him. He looked her up and down. The brief staring contest ended when he gave her something resembling a smile.
"We've both read your résumé, Ms. Butler. We've been having some problems recently with someone breaking into our computer network. Maybe you could tell us what you'd do about it, if you were our security manager."
She took a breath. "That depends. Everyone has trouble with hackers nowadays. I'd do a forensic analysis of the machines they've gotten into. Analyze your server and firewall logs. Check your systems for trojans and viruses and so on, and secure your network against future attacks." She went on with the usual list, wondering how much they understood. "If someone's poking around in your systems and trying not to be detected, they're probably looking for something specific. Bio-Lab's a pharmaceutical company. Lots of valuable, sensitive information."
"I thought our systems were being protected. Do you think they can get at that kind of thing?" Eric asked.
Gaby smiled. "Microsoft, the FBI, and the CIA have all been hacked. With the Internet, you've got the whole world trying to pick your locks. Believe me, no matter how good your security is, someone will figure out a way to get around it. And that's not counting the possible threat from your own employees."
The two men traded a look. They continued with the interview, now exchanging the usual questions about hours, working conditions, salary, and advancement.
"I think that does it. Thanks very much for coming in. We'll be in touch," Wes said, getting up. He walked around the desk and shook her hand. Eric, still leaning on the desk, nodded when she glanced in his direction. In another moment she was being escorted back to the reception area by the same woman who had brought her in. She smiled to herself. The job suddenly seemed interesting. If she got it.
When Wes looked at Eric again, he was staring moodily at the floor, the same thing he had been doing before the interview.
"Well? What did you think of her?" he asked finally.
"Not bad looking."
Wes laughed. "Seriously. I thought she sounded like she knows what she's talking about."
Eric smiled. "You're right. She seemed okay."
"What about the guy yesterday?"
"Lender? I didn't like him. Too friendly."
"Too friendly? What kind of reason is that not to like someone?"
"Any self-respecting computer nerd likes machines more than people."
Wes laughed again. "You've got the weirdest ideas of anyone I know. It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Taylor recommended him, would it?"
"It would. I wouldn't trust Taylor to flush a toilet."
Over a year ago, Wes had temporarily taken over at Bio-Lab when his father was seriously injured. Almost the first thing Robert Taylor had tried to get him to do was fire Eric, a request he had refused. The two had remained bitter enemies. However, Taylor's closest ally in the company, Jenkins, had recently left for greener pastures, and Taylor seemed to have decided a little fence mending would be wise.
"You know," Wes went on, "you should try being civil to him. I think he's trying to bury the hatchet."
"Yeah, right between my shoulder blades."
"Come on, Eric. You shouldn't still be holding a grudge, after all this time."
"Why the hell not?"
They both turned at the interruption of a tap on the door. At Wes's summons, Emma stepped into the room.
"Well?" she asked. "Have you two made up your minds?"
Wes answered. "Not yet. Eric didn't like Lender, the one we saw yesterday."
"May I give my opinion?"
"Of course."
"Hire Ms. Butler. I didn't like Lender either. Just something creepy about him."
"Poor guy. He's creepy and too friendly. I guess you can call Ms. Butler and offer her the job. Tell her to start as soon as she can. That okay with you, Eric?"
"Sure."
Wes waited until the door had closed behind Emma and turned back to Eric. "You free for lunch?"
"Yeah, we can talk about the meeting."
"Don't you ever think about anything but work?"
"No. Let's go."
The Bio-Lab lunchroom was as crowded and noisy as always when they sat down at their usual table twenty minutes later, and the food was up to its usual standard of blandness. Wes would have preferred a restaurant, but Eric didn't like taking the extra time.
"Besides, restaurants cost more."
"Eric, they cost more for a reason. They're better."
"The food here's okay."
"Don't you ever want better than okay? And while we're on the subject, why don't you move to a better place? That house of yours is a real dump. And you need a new car."
Eric raised his brows. "You're unusually critical today."
"That's not answering my question. I know exactly how much money you make. You could afford to live a lot better."
"It's called saving for the future. You should try it sometime. Oh, I forgot... you don't need to."
Wes ignored the sarcasm and went back on the attack. "What's the point of saving a billion dollars if you have a miserable life? You're just cheap."
Eric stared at him, a trace of hurt in his face. "Look, Wes, I spent enough of my life being broke. I don't intend to let it happen again. And I don't have a miserable life. And it's none of your business anyway."
Wes was silent for a minute, stabbing viciously at his potato. Eric was right, he didn't know why he was trying to pick a fight. "Sorry. Guess I'm in a bad mood," he said.
"It's okay. I remember what day this is. That's probably why you feel lousy."
"And why I'm acting lousy." Wes felt a momentary rush of sadness. "I still miss them."
"You'll always miss them. But it will get better."
Wes decided to change the subject. "You ready for the meeting?"
"Of course. Are you?"
"As ready as I'll ever be. Have you heard anything more?"
"I heard someone's been stealing our garbage."
Wes looked up at him and laughed. "Stealing our garbage? And that's a problem?"
Eric frowned. "Don't you know anything about security? That's one of the best ways of spying. You'd be amazed what you can find out from garbage."
"All they'll find out about me is that I like candy bars."
"Oh yeah? What do you do with your old schedules? Incident reports? Personnel evaluations? Memos? Notes you scribble down? Or do you shred everything?"
Wes sobered. "Maybe you're right. I never thought about that kind of stuff."
"Well, start thinking."
Oh Christ, another meeting. Wes spent a few moments wondering what percentage of his life had been wasted in meetings. This one should be more interesting than most of them, but he was having trouble concentrating today, and his headache was getting worse. As he and Eric walked into the large, rather dark office, he resolved to at least try to pay attention. But it wouldn't be easy.
"Right on time," his father said from behind his desk, looking at his watch. "Eric, you're a good influence on my son."
"Thank you, Mr. Collins." Eric saluted. Wes did also, with a trace of mockery and a grin. Collins gave him a skeptical look.
The door opened again, admitting the last attendee, Bio-Lab's new internal security manager, Daryl Gunn; a large, handsome, and powerful-looking black man. Wes hid a smile as he thought the same thing he had thought when he saw Gunn for the first time a few days ago, that he'd make a perfect action movie star. He even had a perfect name.
"Let's get started," Collins said, getting right down to business as he usually did. "Mr. Gunn, I'm sure you've already met Wesley Collins and Eric Myers, representing the Silver Guardians. I've called this meeting to address the security problems we've been having lately. If we could have your report?"
Gunn spoke quietly and clearly. "You're probably already aware of what's happened with the computer systems. Our network administrators report several intrusions into the servers. Some of the scientists suspect their own systems have been broken into, but those are still being investigated. And the latest news is that our garbage is being stolen." Wes glanced at his father furtively and saw that he seemed to take this very seriously indeed.
Eric spoke up. "We've had the same kind of computer problems. And Wes and I have both found bugs in our offices. We've increased the frequency of our routine electronic security sweeps to daily. We're investigating where the bugs came from and who planted them."
"And we've hired the new computer security person you wanted. She's starting tomorrow," Wes added.
"Good. Any more comments, Mr. Gunn?"
"We're working on it," Gunn said. "We're setting up surveillance on the garbage and setting up a new policy on shredding. Computer security needs to be beefed up, and hopefully the new person can help. We'll need more security training for the entire staff. At this point I think that's all we can do."
Collins smiled and stood up. "That sounds like a good start. Looks like that's it then. I expect all of you to follow up."
An hour later Wes was walking into the foyer of his father's house. Philips, the family butler who had been with them since Wes was a child, greeted him and took his jacket. Wes answered him automatically and started up the wide staircase to his room as soon as he could escape Philips' questions about why he was home so early.
Home. It still didn't feel like home. Home was an old, dusty, abandoned clock tower that he had shared with his friends for almost a year. When it was blown up and his friends had gone back to their own time, Wes had moved back in with his father. He had intended it to be only temporary. But somehow he didn't have the time -- or the inclination -- to find another place to live.
Wes sat on his bed, pulled open the drawer of his night table, and took out a small pile of photographs. He smiled, remembering the Polaroids they had all taken of each other. Those had been destroyed, along with the clock tower. But in the two weeks they had all stayed in this house, he had taken another set of pictures. He looked at the first one, a shot of all of them, taken by his father. He saw himself, surrounded by Jen, Lucas, Katie, and green-haired Trip, all smiling at the camera. The closest friends he had ever had.
He lay back on the bed, the smile fading. They had been the Time Force Rangers. His four friends had come from two hundred years in the future, pursuing Ransik, a mutant criminal who tried to destroy Bio-Lab and Silver Hills in order to change the future. Wes had joined them, and been given the morpher that was still on his left wrist, like a very large watch. The morphers changed them into Power Rangers, with suits and weapons that gave them a fighting chance against their mutant enemies.
Later, another, more powerful morpher had been sent from the future, which Eric had found and taken -- stolen really. In those days Eric had been hostile to them, to say the least. For a while they had wondered whose side he was on. But as Jen had said at the end, he turned out to be a great Ranger, even giving up his morpher, and almost his life, to help Wes. They had given the morpher back in gratitude, and Eric still wore it.
Inevitably, his thoughts finally turned to Jen. During that year of trying to capture Ransik and his mutant soldiers, they had fallen in love. They had only admitted it to each other at the end, and spent two bittersweet weeks together as a couple before Jen had to return to her own time. They had known all along that it couldn't last. Jen couldn't stay, no one could be allowed to live outside their own time. For the same reason Wes couldn't go to the future with her.
He closed his eyes, remembering her, remembering the nights she had spent with him in this bed. Sometimes he thought he could still feel her presence here, still catch the scent of her skin on his sheets. The air seemed to carry the echo of her voice. Sometimes when he first woke up, he almost expected to roll over and see her face smiling at him.
Faintly Wes heard the front door open and close, and then his father's voice from downstairs. He realized over an hour had gone by. Quickly he wiped his face. In a few minutes, there was a tap on the door. "Come in," he said, not quite keeping the despondency from his voice.
His father opened the door and stepped inside. "Hi. Heard you came home early. Everything okay?"
"Sure, Dad. I just think I'm coming down with something."
"That's too bad. Let me know if I can get you anything."
"Thanks." Wes rolled on the bed to face away from him.
"Wes. I know today is hard for you. If you want to talk about it, I'm here."
"Thanks. But I'd like to just stay here for a while." He heard the door close quietly. He had a friend and a father who cared about him. Usually that was enough. But today it didn't help a bit.