Gaby, Gunn, Kane, Klezmi, and Silva are mine.
Rated PG-13 : sexuality; harsh language, strong violence.
Year: 2003
"It doesn't go there. Stop trying to force it." Eric turned his head to look at Gaby with a grin as she reached to take the speaker connector from his hand. She smiled. "You're disgusting," she informed him.
"What? I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to." She smiled again. "My mind's in the same gutter as yours." He watched her connect the wire, climb to her feet, and sit in the chair, running an eye over his brand new computer. They had spent half an hour getting it set up, or rather ten minutes of setup and twenty minutes of Eric's questions. Now apparently it was ready.
"Go ahead and turn it on," she said. They both leaned forward to watch the monitor as the initial screens went by, Gaby giving the necessary responses. Eric looked at her as the computer booted up, watching her absently brush back short, wavy dark hair which always seemed to need a trim from a pretty, strong-featured face.
With a twinge of discomfort, he thought back to the night before. He had wanted to accept her obvious invitation. He wanted very much to take the next step, and thought Gaby did too. In fact, after last night he suspected she was getting impatient. But he was hesitant. His last relationship had been a disaster, and left him reluctant to trust a woman again, reluctant to let himself feel that much again.
Now, to make things worse, he was seeing someone he worked with, and someone who was from a very different background. He had to admit to himself that much of his tendency to automatically assume anyone who came from a better background would be bound to look down on him was caused by his own insecurity, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.
He also had to admit Gaby had shown appreciation of his abilities, taking martial arts lessons from him, and showing considerable interest in his duties as the Guardians' commander. She seemed to respect him. He knew she liked him, and that he liked her and wanted her, more than he was comfortable admitting; but a part of his mind whispered that she was out of his league, and that someday she would realize it.
Watching her face now, so intent on what she was doing, he couldn't help smiling. She glanced at him and smiled back.
"What?"
"You're so into it."
"I'd better be. It's my job to be into computers," she said with a laugh.
"It's nice to love your work."
"You should know. You love yours, don't you?"
"Most of the time."
"You sure spend enough time at it."
"I guess so. It's important work."
"I know." She smiled at him again. "What about being a Ranger? Do you think of that as a job too?"
He thought for a moment. "Not exactly. No one asked me to do it, no one pays me for it. It's more of a responsibility."
"I would think it's really cool. Exciting."
He smiled, a little ironically. "Not when it means having people trying to kill you."
"Yeah, I guess that part's not so good. But some of it must be fun."
"Maybe some of it." He watched her as she turned back to the screen. She was right, some of it had been fun. He wondered why he had never thought of it that way before.
Wes paced restlessly in the living room of the Collins house. He paused for a moment to look out from the picture windows at the garden and pool, beautiful in the soft night lighting. When he turned away, Philips was standing in the doorway.
"Mr. Wesley," he said. "Have you heard from them? Dinner will be ruined."
"No. Not a word." Wes shoved his hands in his pockets restlessly. "I called Dad's office, and the guards' desk. They left two hours ago. I'm getting worried."
Philips face was concerned. "Perhaps you should call the police."
"They don't take missing persons reports for at least twenty-four hours."
"I... I'll see what I can do about dinner." Philips turned to leave.
Alan Collins, Wes's father, was bringing Dr. Michael Zaskin, Bio-Lab's head scientist, over to the house for a working dinner. It was only a twenty-minute drive. Wes knew his father was almost obsessive about punctuality and dependability. There was no way they would be this late unless something had happened.
He crossed the room to the phone. After a few moments of hesitation, he picked it up and dialed a number from the address book next to it. He waited while it rang, until a woman's voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs. Zaskin? It's Wes Collins."
"Oh, hello, Wes. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks. I was just wondering if you'd heard from Dr. Zaskin tonight?"
"Isn't he there? He's having dinner with you, isn't he?"
"They're not here yet."
"I haven't heard anything..." Her voice became worried. "Do you think something's happened?"
"I'm sure they're just delayed at the office or something. Don't worry."
"Well... please have Michael call me when he gets there."
"Sure. Goodbye." Wes hung up, more worried than ever. Reaching a decision, he hurried toward the kitchen to tell Philips he was going out.
Minutes later, Wes walked down the path through the small garden in front of the house. For a moment he stood outside the garage, looking out over the driveway that wound between scattered trees to the main road. The moon had risen, pouring pale light over the ground, and a slight wind stirred the branches, creating a swirl of shadows. It was still early spring, and the air was chilly and fresh, making a soft sound as it moved through the trees.
Wes raised his morpher and pressed a button on it. Instantly a flash of sparkling light ran over his body, sending a surge of energy and excitement through him. When it faded, the Red Ranger stood in his familiar helmeted suit, red with white areas over the shoulders, chest, and back. Seconds later he was on his vectorcycle, speeding down the driveway.
Eric sighed as he finished the game. Gaby had brought a computer game over and insisted that he try it when his new computer was running, to break it in. As usual, he had been reluctant to start, but had enjoyed it, continuing for half an hour after Gaby had gotten tired of watching and moved to the couch.
After shutting the computer down, Eric got up to stretch and then went to the couch to sit down. Gaby had the television on, the remote in her hand.
"About time you finished that game."
"Sorry." He turned to look at her. "Are you watching this?"
She shrugged. "Not really."
"Did you get bored, while I was playing?"
"I brought the game. I guess I asked for it."
He was silent for a while. She turned to look at him, her face becoming serious. "Is something wrong?"
"No." He turned to the television.
"Come on. You were quiet last night, and you're still acting funny. Tell me."
"I don't know." He hesitated. "Doesn't it ever bother you? That we're so different?"
She smiled and raised her eyebrows suggestively. "I like the differences."
"I'm serious. We don't have anything in common."
"What do you mean?"
"You went to college -- graduate school, too... came from a nice family. Your parents are teachers. I never finished high school, and my parents..."
She stared at him. "What difference does that make?"
"You're a lot more educated. You have nice, normal parents."
"Normal? I don't know about that." She smiled.
Eric looked down at his hands, hardly even realizing he was clenching his fists. "My parents... they were both trash. My mom screwed every guy she could get her hands on. My 'dad' wasn't even really my father." He smiled a little, bitterly. "I'm a bastard, literally."
"Eric..." She reached to curl her fingers around his wrist. "Don't say that about yourself. You know it doesn't matter."
He looked up at her, slightly annoyed by her sympathy. "I'm happy about it. Knowing I'm not related to that asshole is one of the highlights of my life. Anyway, I dropped out of high school. I could easily have been a bum, just like them."
"But you're not. None of that is your fault. I have a lot of respect for what you've done with your life." She looked in his eyes. "Is that what's been bothering you? Is that why you didn't want to come in last night? You think there's some kind of -- class difference between us?"
His face hardened. "That's part of it."
She started to look hurt. "Do you really think I care about that? Or do you care about it?"
"I don't know. Do you care?"
"No. I'm... surprised that you think I would." She frowned, obviously upset.
"I didn't mean it like that." He looked away, at the television.
"I know there's differences between us, but it doesn't matter to me. If you think it's a problem -- well, that's in your head, not mine."
He sighed. "I was just -- trying to be realistic."
"So what's the rest?" she asked after a pause.
"What?"
"You said that was part of it. What's the rest?" When he didn't answer she went on. "Is it Angela?"
He looked back at her. "I guess that's part of it, too."
She glanced away from him, her face hurt and now angry. "If you're still thinking about her, maybe I shouldn't be here."
"Look, don't take it like that. It's just that -- I guess I'm not ready to get involved again."
"Involved? How do you mean involved?"
"It's just that... last night... if we sleep together, I don't want you to get the wrong idea."
"What idea is that?"
"I don't think I'm ready to make any commitments."
She stared at him. He saw hurt and disappointment in her face, then they were quickly gone. "I'm not looking for a commitment. I'm not sure I want that either."
"Why not?"
Her face was annoyed. "What difference does it make?"
"I'd like to know."
"It's not because of your background." He waited, but her face was set stubbornly. "So what do you want?" she continued after a moment.
"Well... I thought it might not be a good idea, last night..."
"Yes?"
He started to feel very uncomfortable. "I still want to go out with you. And as long as you understand it's only casual..."
"What?" She gave him what he was sure was a deliberately blank look.
"I want to have sex with you, damn it."
That got a look that was definitely angry again. "What a romantic way to put it."
He snorted. "If you're looking for romance, I'm afraid you're with the wrong guy."
Her angry expression deepened and her voice sharpened. "Maybe I am with the wrong guy."
Wes sighed as he turned down yet another street. He had decided to retrace the most likely route his father would have taken between Bio-Lab and their house. After arriving at Bio-Lab, he had confirmed that the car was gone from the parking lot. Now he had spent the last hour checking out some not-so-likely streets, trying to cover every road they might have turned off on.
After only three blocks, he noticed a car, a large black one. He pulled up behind it, recognizing it instantly as his father's car. He climbed off the vectorcycle and walked around to the side. The tinted windows were all rolled up against the night air, but he could still see inside with his Ranger-enhanced vision. There was one person there. He was lying across the front seat, arms hanging limply over the edge, a stain of blood visible under his head on the gray upholstery.
Wes yanked the door open and bent over him. "Dr. Zaskin!" he called, drawing a breath of relief when he saw Zaskin's face twitch slightly. He raised his arm and pressed the button to demorph, transforming back to normal in another sparkle of light. He cursed as he realized he had forgotten to bring his cell phone, and raised his morpher to his face.
"I just want us to understand each other!"
"You mean you want me to understand you. You don't seem to care very much about how I feel about it!"
He stood and turned away from her. "Why do you think I didn't go with you last night? I wanted to, but I'm trying to be honest. But you're acting like I'm trying to hire a hooker!"
"That's the way it sounded! That's the way you made me feel!"
He answered resentfully, "If you're not interested, all you have to do is say no."
"I don't know." He turned back at the unhappy tone in her voice. "Maybe it was just the way you said it."
Eric's morpher chose that moment to bleep. "Shit!" he exclaimed with feeling, tempted to ignore it. But Wes wouldn't call him by morpher unless it was important.
"Eric?" the morpher said in Wes's voice.
"Yeah. This better be good," he answered.
"I need your help. Dr. Zaskin's hurt, and my dad's gone. I don't have my phone." The voice was rushed, and sounded frantic.
"Wes, slow down. What happened?"
He heard a deep breath, and Wes's voice came again, showing an obvious effort for control. "My dad and Dr. Zaskin were supposed to come to the house for dinner. When they didn't show up, I went out to look for them. I found the car, with Zaskin unconscious. He's been attacked. There's no sign of my father."
"Shit!" Eric said again. "Where are you?"
Wes told him and they disconnected. Eric looked down at Gaby, who was staring up, her eyes wide. "Sorry. I have to go."
"Of course. I understand." She jumped up and collected her things while Eric called 911 and Steven Miller, their second-in-command. They went out the door, Eric locking up and then quickly walking with her to her car.
"Good luck," she said.
"Thanks. I'll... talk to you later." He hesitated for a moment before stepping back, raising his morpher and saying, "Quantum Power!" into it. Light blazed, and he felt the familiar surge of power as he became the Quantum Ranger, his red and black suit materializing on him, his weapon, the Quantum Defender, appearing in its holster on his hip.
Speaking into the morpher again, he said, "TF Eagle!" summoning his personal flyer, a small, one-person aircraft which appeared in the sky and swiftly lowered to the street next to him. With a leap he was on the wing and sliding into the cockpit. He gave Gaby a wave and took off.
The first real step had been taken. Safely back in their home base, he opened the door to the room they used as a prison and shoved his captive inside. Collins lost his balance and fell heavily to the floor, looking up, fear in his face, trying to scramble away, to put distance between them. He smiled. He liked seeing others afraid of him.
Collins started to get up, and looked around, freezing as he caught sight of the other prisoner. There was horror on his face now. "What's going on? What do you want?" he asked, voice trembling.
"Only a few things. Your life, when I'm ready. Your son's life, and Eric Myers'. And Bio-Lab." He smiled again at the look on Collins' face and quietly closed the door.
The hospital was busy with the usual rush of late night emergency patients. They waited, sitting silently in a small but almost private area a doctor had found for them. Wes had called Mrs. Zaskin, and she was now with her husband. They had been told he had suffered a severe head wound, but was out of danger. Wes had smiled half-heartedly at the news.
"Any idea who could have done this?" Eric asked.
"No. I know Dad has enemies... But I can't think of anyone who'd attack him like this."
Eric was silent. He could think of a few possibilities, none of them pleasant. Collins was a very rich man, and in control of a pharmaceutical company that was still powerful and profitable, despite the hard times it found itself in after the mutant attacks more than a year ago. He could have been kidnapped for money, or to make a political statement. He looked at Wes, staring into space despondently, and was hesitant to bring it up. He probably had thought of it himself, anyway.
"Eric. What do you think they want?"
Eric looked at him. Determination had replaced the dejection on Wes's face. "I don't know. The most likely thing is money."
"Dad doesn't believe in paying ransoms." Wes raked a hand through his hair.
"Neither do the cops. Neither do I." He watched his friend for a moment. "Don't worry, we'll find him. We're Power Rangers, after all." He saw Wes try to smile again. "What is it you guys were always saying? 'Never give up.'"
"Yeah. I guess we said that. Eric... What if they do want a ransom? Should we pay it?"
Eric sighed. "Can't make that decision now. If we have to -- I guess we will. But we'll get them. Can't let them do this again, to someone else."
"No. But I want my dad back. That's the most important thing."
"I want him back too, Wes."
Wes smiled, more warmly this time. "I know."
They both looked up as the doctor who had notified them of Zaskin's condition approached them again. Both men stood, Eric feeling a touch of apprehension at the doctor's serious expression.
"Dr. Zaskin's conscious," he greeted them. "Don't worry, he's doing fine. But he insists on talking to you."
Eric and Wes traded a glance and then nodded. Quickly they followed the doctor through the hallways, Eric thinking uncomfortably that both of them seemed to be spending entirely too much time in hospitals recently, as either patients or visitors. Finally they were motioned into a private room.
Dr. Zaskin lay in the bed, his head bandaged, his face pale and drawn. Mrs. Zaskin sat in a chair next to him, his hand firmly in both of hers, not looking much better than her husband. Both looked up at Eric and Wes.
"How are you feeling?" Wes asked.
"All right," Zaskin answered, his voice thin but steady.
"Good," Eric said. "You wanted to see us?"
"Yes. I need to tell you what happened."
They both stepped closer. "Who did this?" Wes asked. "Where's my dad?"
"He stopped the car... just stood in front of it. Your father started to get out... and he grabbed him. When I tried to stop him he hit me..."
"Who? What did he look like?" Eric asked.
Zaskin's face twitched, as if in pain. "You know him already." His eyes widened and lifted to Eric's face. "It was Conwing."