Disclaimer: Admit it, you're as sick of reading these as I am of writing them, but here we go: I don't own anyone that belongs to someone else.

A/N: Many thanks and much love to my favorite beta reader, Rach. You guys ought to be grateful too, she's the main reason this thing is readable.

Angel with Two Faces

Chapter 11

"Kailey!"

Miri was fairly certain she'd never heard her aunt shriek before. At the moment, however, Trini was making up for lost time.

"How dare you – if you ever – are you all – I could just – " Clearly unable to choose between hugging the life out of her daughter and shaking her until her teeth rattled, Trini opted to do both. For her part Miri simply breathed a huge sigh of relief to see that the young Yellow div. Ranger seemed to be none the worse for her adventures.

Behind Kailey hovered a silver-and-black clad shadow, obviously making the sane choice and staying out of mama bear Trini's way until the coast was clear. Miri caught Scott's eye and mouthed 'thank you', which surprised a small grin out of him as he nodded back.

The utter lack of sound from Jason's direction caught Miri's attention then, and she turned to look at him. Her heart squeezed in sympathy at the expression of mixed pleasure and pain, liberally sprinkled with shock, that traced the lines of his face. She glanced back at Kailey, who was approaching him with her hands out, bless her.

"I'm Kailey," she was saying, and he nodded, still stunned into silence. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Jason," he rasped. He held out his own arms. "Do you mind if I…?"

Kailey grinned. "Not at all, Uncle Jason," and she hugged him, hard. Miri could see tears glittering in his dark eyes; so did Kailey. "Sorry if it's a shock, the way I look."

He laughed and hastily wiped a hand over his face. "Not in a bad way, honest. It's just – I have a lot to adjust to." Kailey nodded; over her head Jason sought Miri's gaze, and she blushed.

Scott stepped forward, a hand out. "Jason Scott Oliver," he said. "Everyone calls me Scott. It's an honor, sir."

Jason was well and truly overwhelmed now, but he managed to shake the young man's hand before excusing himself. Miri hugged Kailey and gave Scott a brief kiss on the cheek, trying to give Jason some time to compose himself before hurrying after him.

~*~

The hazy gray fog that had enveloped Billy's head receded somewhat and he groaned. Someone said something like, "whassahappinme?" and he realized, after some concentrated thought, that it was himself. He pulled himself up on one elbow and squinted around the room… where the hell was he? He hadn't been on a bender like this since the day Cestria died.

Something was niggling at him, trying to poke a hole in the cotton fuzz that had somehow grown around his brain. There was something important he was supposed ro remember… wasn't there?

He swung his legs to the floor, belatedly noticing that he'd been curled up on a stone slab of some sort. Damp. Moldy. Yuck. He shivered and realized his uniform was in tatters, the shirt portion effectively gone. Interesting. Cold. Ow.

Billy looked down and touched his chest gingerly. Pieces of it appeared to be missing. He was almost sure he'd had skin and hair where now there were just strips of raw flesh, open and bleeding.

The pain began to filter through, and he groaned, thrusting bloody fingers into his hair. What the hell had happened?

The door to the cell swung open abruptly and a familiar red-clad figure tumbled in, much the worse for wear. Tommy looked up at him, hazel eyes wide with horror, and mumbled something like, "Oh, God, not again!"

Billy frowned. "Tom?"

His friend scrambled away from his ourstretched hand, licking his dry lips. "You're not him. I'm not falling for this again." Tommy looked about him wildly, his voice cracking as he shouted. "You hear me, Goldar? I'm not buying into this again!"

Goldar. The room seemed to shift like a kaleidoscope, and suddenly Billy remembered everything: the flesh his captor had torn from him, as he struggled and screamed; Goldar's leering face as Billy had refused, again, to call him lord; the specimen jars and the centrifuge that had extracted his DNA while he watched, bound and helpless; Billy after Billy being created before his horrified eyes.

"You see?" his tormentor had gloated. "I can make a thousand of you if I choose, all with the mind and memories of the brilliant original Blue Ranger. How will your pitiful race stop me then?"

"Against humanity your creations don't stand a chance," Billy had panted. "Without feeling, without intuition or inspiration, they're nothing. They're just worthless puppets, Goldar, and you know it."

Goldar had nodded. "It's true, I do know. They are not you." Then he'd grinned. "But Thomas doesn't know that."

Billy blinked, looking down at his friend on the floor. "Tom, it's me."

Tom gave a humorless laugh. "Not even original. Just shut up and die, will you, so I can think."

Billy blinked again, this time in surprise. "Come again?"

"I said," Tommy got up slowly and leaned against the opposite wall, "shut up and die already." He raised his voice. "C'mon, apehead, this one's already boring me. Let's get the show on the road."

Billy sat back and folded his legs up under him, tailor-style. "How many has he made you watch die?"

Tommy eyed him. "Now that's a novel approach. Aren't you going to try to convince me you're Billy?"

The Admiral shrugged. "I don't see the point, frankly. There's nothing I can say that would be effective. And I don't really feel like arguing with you. So how many?"

Tommy bared his teeth in what Billy imagined was supposed to be a wry grin. It failed. "You'd be number fifteen."

Billy's eyes widened fractionally.

"What?" Tommy's voice was defensive.

"Obviously Goldar knows you as well as he says he does. Better than you ever told us."

Tommy growled. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Billy shrugged again. "Just that he knows where and how to hurt you. Torturing you wouldn't give him any satisfaction. Killing me, over and over, while making you watch… I can't even imagine." He studied his friend. "And Kat, too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes." Tommy's voice broke on the single syllable. "Just two. I could tell it wasn't her, but even so… but with you I can't tell, it's been so long…"

Billy bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Tom. I'm… crap, I'm just sorry."

Tommy stared at him. "It's you, isn't it?"

Billy shrugged again. "Yeah, though maybe you'd be better off thinking it's not."

Tommy gave a weak snort. "Typical Cranston logic." At that Billy crossed to his friend and put an arm around him. After a moment, Tommy dropped his face into his hands, and all Billy heard was a shuddering sigh.

~*~

She ran Jason to ground in the med cabin. He sat with his back to the door, his face in his hands. Miri touched his hair gently. "This is getting to be a habit with us. Tell me how I can help."

He started to speak. "I…" He cleared his throat, and started again. "Not sure you can. There's such a lot to handle…"

Miri sighed and began to rub his back slowly. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger, like when your dad sends you a suicide note or you fall asleep for a quarter century. No preconceived ideas to trip over, no emotions invested to bang your shins on."

He chuckled. "Tom would say there's nobody stranger than me." Jason looked around at her then. "I don't think of you as a stranger, Miri."

"No?" She looked at him, puzzled. "Why? We don't – "

He silenced her with a finger to her lips. "I'm doing my best to make sense of things, and the best I can do right now is to measure my life in hours. Given that scale, you're the person I know best." Jason paused and shrugged. "My life before… it's all distant and shadowy. I remember it, but… it's like the colors have all faded." He reached up to capture one of her hands in his. "To me, you're the first bright thing I know."

Miri backed away uncertainly, tugging her hand free. "Jason…"

He quirked a half-grin. "I know, this isn't the time, and you think of me as your patient." Jason got to his feet. "Well, I can be patient." That surprised a laugh out of her, and he chuckled in response. "Come on, then. We have monkey butt to kick."

~*~

Ba'altesch stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side in an effort to loosen up the tension gathering there. He glanced over at Maya, satisfying himself for the hundredth time that his adjustments to the camouflage chip in her comm had succeeded in covering the Exo to an acceptable degree.

It had. He squinted, but all he could perceive was a minute disturbance of the air, a shimmer when Maya shifted position. Ba'altesch nodded to himself and checked his chronometer. His dark eyes widened fractionally. The Earth adage about time flying had its applications, though this was hardly fun…

As if to confirm his thoughts, Maya whispered to him. "They are inside. Be careful, Ba'altesch. I expect a tour of those sacred springs, as you promised."

He smiled, though he knew she could not see it, and then turned his attention to the clot of milling human figures outside the palace. They were centered about something, climbing over a large, half-constructed object that could be nothing other than Goldar's flagship in a fleet of destruction.

A diversion, Commander Myers had requested; a diversion he would most assuredly get.

Ba'altesch set off at a run toward the palace, hearing the pounding of the Exo's feet beside him as Maya kept pace. Their target loomed closer; faces turned toward them, evidently hearing their approach, though it was clear that they had not yet been visually detected. Ba'altesch suppressed a shiver at the sight of the dozens of familiar faces that stared blankly in his direction. He'd known to expect it, but the effect was still disturbing.

And then a vision of what they must have gone through to provide Goldar with his army; people he'd known and respected and liked… the very thought tore through his blood, and fury suffused him. Ba'altesch snarled, hitting his comm to dispose of the camouflage, and swung his blaster up and forward with a roar.

A phalanx of Wes Collinses fell back in confusion as the huge blue alien appeared in their midst, his blaster aflame. Beside him the Exo appeared. An exoskeleton of exceptional sleekness and power, it made Maya every bit the Qetren's equal in size and strength.

Ba'altesch put his foot through the chest of a Wes in front of him, watching with cold interest as the startled clone seemed to dissolve into gory red goop. The blue-skinned man gave a feral grin. This would be easier than he'd thought. His blaster flamed again and again as he gave a warrior's yell.

The Exo launched into the air, somersaulting gracefully over the heads of the gray-clad Ranger clones, to land feet first with a sickening crunch on top of the half-built ship. Maya punched through the metal skin with one Exo-enhanced arm and began to tear the ship apart, sending the pieces flying into the crowd of clones with deadly effect.

Ba'altesch's blaster jammed. Undeterred in the slightest, he planted it in the skull of the nearest Cassie-clone and simply began picking clones up, two by two, and hurling them wholesale at the rest, roaring with bloodlust at the sounds and smell of crunching bones and fizzing clone-flesh.

More clones and robotic soldiers poured from the palace toward them; Ba'altesch caught Maya's eye and grinned.

~*~

Cassie groaned again, her head tossing weakly back and forth.

"She won't last much longer," Wes said sadly, gently pushing damp tendrils of dark hair away from his captain's fever-ravaged face.

Kat leaned her head against the stone wall wearily. "Maybe that makes her the lucky one."

He looked up at her quickly. "You don't mean that."

Kat closed her eyes. "No," she said, but she knew it was unconvincing.

Wes continued to stare at her, she could feel it. "They're coming for us, they must be. We'll get out of here."

"Yes."

He was silent, and Kat opened her eyes and looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Kat touched her lips with a finger, listening intently.

There it was: a sound in the corridor. Furtive, soft, but distinct. Kat bared her teeth and drew back into the shadows, shielding her companions with her body.

And then came the shimmer and hum of a camo chip disengaging, and a familiar red and white shape stepped forward. Kat blinked and swallowed, her lips forming words, her voice refusing to work.

Jason smiled reassuringly. "It's me, Kat. Hang in there, honey; we'll have you out of there in a second." Another figure appeared, clad, like Jason, in a costume Kat never thought to see again, this time a brilliant blue and white.

"J-jase? Miri?" It was a croak, but at least it came out this time. Kat swallowed and tried again. "You – you're – why are you dressed like that?"

He gave her a genuine grin this time. "Trust you to get right to the point. One sec." A third shape materialized, Eric this time, dressed in his usual black and silver. He went to work on the barred door with a tiny but efficient laser, cutting through the metal like a knife through butter. The door leaned forward and he caught it easily, letting Jason slip past, which he did just in time to catch Kat as she took a header into his arms. Miri edged past him and began to examine the other captives.

"It's okay, Kat. It's going to be okay," he crooned, and she clutched at him, believing. Her skin was warm where he touched her, the warmth spreading outward with a slight tingle. Kat blinked a few times, slowly realizing that the wound on her abdomen didn't throb, her head no longer ached. She wasn't tired, wasn't despairing… she sat up abruptly, her blue eyes round.

"How…?" Her half-formed question went unanswered as Jason moved toward Wes at a nod from Miri, who had taken Wes' place cradling Cassie's head.

Jason touched the injured man gently on the shoulder. A soft glow spread over Wes' torso, and Kat stared in shock as the angry red welts and myriad cuts simply closed themselves up and vanished. His black eye faded, the long deep cut marring the side of his face healed. His eyes grew bright, his chin came up, and Kat could see the old Wes was back in spades. Miri smiled, her azure gaze resting on Jason's face. Moments later Cassie also stood before them, astonishment on her pretty face.

Jason stretched, the white diamond pattern in the middle of his crimson uniform stretching with him. Eric nodded at him, then turned to the three captives. "Taylor is waiting with Nemesis just beyond the terminus line; we'll join her there and rendezvous with the fleet in about half an hour."

"Uh, no," said Kat, shaking her head. "Not without my husband."

Jason grinned. "I heard you were pissed at him."

Kat grinned back. "I am."

~*~

"Diversion's underway," said Trini, her tone clipped. "Let's go."

Three transparent shimmers made their way carefully toward the throne room.

~*~

"Argh!" Goldar flung himself from his throne and began to pace, eyeing Vile malevolently. "Why have they not been stopped? Surely we more than outnumber them."

"We do, my lord, and are producing more soldiers as we speak, but these Rangers are an unknown quantity."

Goldar growled. "Explain."

Vile shrugged. "My experience, and I venture to say yours, is that Rangers are reluctant to kill. These Rangers at our door seem to have no such constraint, and you know well how fragile humanity can be, even when engineered." He spread his hands wide. "I have adjusted our production to account for this, but it may be some little time before our armies prevail. As you are aware it requires more time to produce the robotic soldiers."

"Is it some sort of misguided rescue attempt?"

Vile shook his head. "It appears not, my lord, as the familiar appearance of our Rangers seems to leave their attackers unaffected. In the past when we have resorted to duplication, the Rangers' affection for one another has hindered their performance. These Rangers are simply decimating our human squadrons."

Goldar threw himself into his throne again, fingering his lower lip. He turned his unsettling gaze on his captives, bound and kneeling at his feet. "I congratulate you, Blue Ranger. It seems you have produced Rangers without the sickening sentiment that has always been your downfall."

Billy made no reply, knowing Goldar was simply goading him. Tommy, however, bit.

"It's your downfall we're looking at, Goldar. You can kill us, but the Rangers will defeat you!"

In a flash the creature was before Tommy, his long fingers wrapped around his throat, lifting him from the ground. "You tempt me strangely, my dear Thomas," he hissed as Tommy choked. "I could tear out your throat now with but a single flex of my fingers, could turn you to ash with a thought."

"Do… it…" Tommy managed to snarl.

Billy swallowed the bile that rose in his own throat as Goldar's fingers began to tighten. "He can't," he said, outwardly calm. "He can't kill us, Tom, because then he'd have no audience, no one to witness his victory and be broken. No one to call him lord, except Vile. And that's what he wants." Billy lifted his chin. "That is what you want, isn't it, Goldar? Me to call you 'my lord'? Isn't that what you said?" He was amazed that his voice remained level while his mind screamed inside. Drop him, damn you, drop him!

Goldar opened his hand; Tommy hit the metallic floor like a rag doll, coughing.

The malevolent creature considered Billy. "It's true, what you say. I am reluctant to kill you yet, not while there is so much more to be wrung from you." He smiled, his yellow teeth glinting in the light of the braziers. "I confess to some respect for you, Blue Ranger. You are truly the mind of the Rangers."

Billy faced him squarely, refusing to look away. "We've defeated you every time, Goldar. This time will be no different."

Goldar snickered, resuming his seat on the throne. "Once that was true, I admit. But things have changed, have they not? Your kind may struggle, but I shall prevail. The team Zordon chose was young and strong. They might have been able to take me down, even now. But your Red leader and that Pink nuisance are dead, the focus and the spirit of the Rangers are old and tired now, and I have the mind here in my grasp. I have become master of evil, and in the end, none shall oppose me."

A voice rang out, and Billy went white to the roots. It couldn't be…

"You're the same thing you've always been, Goldar, a second rate villain with a bad costume and a worse script. You want the Rangers?" Five brightly colored figures materialized in the archway of the throne room. "You should be careful what you ask for."