Gaby, Patrick, Scott, Jimmy Duran, and any others you don't recognize are mine.
Violet is... ?
Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; violence; sexual content.
Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one.
"You know, you should just talk to him." Gaby glanced at him in the mirror, as Eric watched her, fidgeting impatiently. It was another morning in her small apartment, the sun spilling into the bedroom as she finished dressing, picking out gleaming highlights from her brown hair as she brushed it. As usual he was ready first, and anxious to get to work. But she seemed to have other ideas.
"Why?"
"Because he's your best friend."
"No he isn't." He turned away.
"Yes, he is. He feels terrible about what happened." After a few more strokes she put the brush down, and then stood to face him. "Whatever it was, it couldn't be bad enough to end your friendship."
"It was. And it didn't end anything. Just made me realize our 'friendship' never existed in the first place."
"It exists for him." She crossed the room to pick up her purse. "What did he say to you that was so terrible, anyway?"
"He didn't tell you?" Eric asked, his voice resentful.
"No. Said he'd never say something like that again."
"I -- What's the point of repeating it?" he said irritably. "Would just -- make him look bad."
"Yeah," she said softly. "You're not friends anymore. Look how you still protect him."
"Well, I have to work with the guy. Can we go now?"
"Won't you at least talk to him? Let him explain?"
"Explain? What's there to explain?" He turned away again, his voice dropping. "Not too surprising, is it? That a rich guy like that would look down on me?"
"He doesn't look down on you, for Christ's sake."
"Yes, he does. You don't know what he said."
"Because neither one of you will tell me. I can't believe Wes would say something so awful that you can't be friends with him any more..."
"Well, you'd better believe it!" Eric turned to glare at her. "Yeah, Mr. goody-two-shoes Wes Collins. He called me sewer scum. Along with a few remarks about my parents, and how I wasn't good enough to associate with him or his father."
"He did?" She frowned at him. "I can't blame you for being angry. But I'm sure he didn't mean it."
"I was there," he muttered. "He meant it, all right. And I'm not angry. I just know the truth now. And I wish you'd leave it alone!"
"I wish you'd listen!" She lowered her voice with a sigh. "Why would he make friends with you if he didn't mean it? If he didn't like you?"
"Well... It's in his nature to try to get along. To make people like him. But he wouldn't have bothered if not for this." He held up his morpher. "I'm only valuable to him because of the morpher. That's why he made friends with me in the first place."
"I think he wouldn't have gone out of his way if he didn't like you. Can't you just give him another chance?"
"Why?" He stared coldly. "Because you want us to have rich friends? Or because he's the boss's son? Did he put you up to this?"
Her eyes lit with irritation. "No, he didn't put me up to it. And his father has nothing to do with it. You just don't trust anyone, do you? Including me!"
"A lot of people have let me down."
"Well, I'm not one of them."
"Not yet." He paused as her face flared with hurt and anger. "Look, I'm sorry. But -- Wes was one of the people I really... believed in. And look what happened. People surprise you. You never really know anyone. It's just reality." He paused, watching her stubbornly disbelieving expression. "You'll find that out someday too."
She shot him a sharp look. "You think no one ever hurt me? I've had guys who dumped me, friends who let me down, bosses who treated me like shit." She paused, her voice turning bitter as she went on. "I had a serious boyfriend, a few years ago. Thought we were in love. Until I found out he was cheating on me with my roommate's best friend. When I confronted him, he said it was my fault, for being too demanding. Tried to blame me for everything... So don't tell me I don't know what it's like to have someone let me down."
"Did you just forgive this guy? Would you trust him again?"
"Well... maybe not." She gave him an unreadable look and went on in a lower voice. "But... everyone will disappoint you sooner or later in some way. You can't go around never forgiving anyone. You'll have no one left."
That hard core of bitterness that lived inside him seemed to absorb the anger, leaving him feeling only empty and sad now. "Maybe you're right. But I don't know if I can go back to being friends with Wes. I'll always remember this. Never be able to trust him again."
"People aren't perfect, Eric," she murmured. "We all make mistakes, sometimes big ones. A lot of people have forgiven you, after all, including Wes."
"And including you?"
"You haven't given me much to forgive." She raised her head to look at him, smiling. "Will you at least think about it?"
He returned the smile, crossed the space between them, and pulled her head against his chest, brushing his lips over her hair. "Yeah. I'll think about it."
"Good." She looked at her watch. "Shit, we're late. Let's go."
As they headed for the door, Eric rested an arm over her shoulders. "So, this jerk who cheated on you," he said. "What's his name? Where does he live?"
"Eric, don't you dare..."
Wes stirred at the sound of the alarm, and rolled over, slapping the button to stop the noise. He sank back onto the pillow, searching for another moment of sleep, but it wouldn't come. Might as well get up.
A walk across the bedroom, one of the many guest bedrooms in his father's house. Funny how he didn't think of it as his house anymore. It didn't feel like home, not since he had moved out of his old room, the room he and Jen had shared. With the ease of practice, he pushed that thought away.
This room was just as large, but it wasn't the same. The bathroom he entered was newer, cleaner, but it wasn't the same... He dropped his pajamas on the floor and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water running over his body wash away some of the tension that filled him.
He sighed as he stepped out, pulled a towel from the rack, and started to dry himself. Next, get dressed. Walk down the stairs. Produce a smile for his father as he joined him at the breakfast table. Act like everything was all right.
He found himself hesitating as he passed the door to his room. After a moment, he turned the knob and took a few steps inside. The air was fresh, thanks to an open window, the staff had dusted and cleaned, but it still had the subtle feel of disuse... and the echoes of the love that had once lived here.
Violet. If only... If he brought her here, would it help? So many memories in this room, how could she not feel them? If Jen was really alive somewhere inside her, this was surely the place to find her. Not yet, perhaps. But someday...
Tunnels... a string of bare light bulbs... running, with Wes, Trip, and Katie pulling her along... But it wasn't Wes, it was Norman, and it wasn't Trip and Katie... Silver and Purple, Norman's robots... They ran, then they were in a big room, crowded with equipment, she looked back and saw Eric, in his Quantum Ranger suit, and Wes, demorphed, a glimpse of Steve's face; they were coming after her, trying to help her, she realized, but it was too late, a roar, a flash, something falling on her, pain, and then nothingness...
Violet woke with a start, gasping for air, the echoes of her own scream in her ears, her heart filled with unreasoning terror. Dazed, she looked around. Her bedroom -- where was Wes? But the thought faded as if it had never been, just as the dream was fading into nothing. She jumped, clutching the sheet to her chest, as her bedroom door burst open.
"Violet!" Scott was bending over her.
She looked up into his face, still disoriented, even afraid of him for a moment. "Scott?" she said in a small voice.
"What happened? We heard you scream." Another form stepped into view. Patrick, also looking down at her with an expression of concern.
"I..." She raised a trembling hand to her head. "It must have been a nightmare."
"What was it? What did you dream?" Patrick asked quickly.
"What... I'm not sure." Her gaze dropped from their faces as she tried to remember, but it slipped away. "Just -- running. Someone chasing us." She looked up again. "I've never had a nightmare before."
"We know." Scott straightened and exchanged a glance with Patrick. He turned back to her. "Do you want one of us to stay with you?"
"No..." She looked at the window, early light beaming through. "It's morning. I might as well get up." Then memory struck her. "What happened last night?"
They exchanged another one of those communicative glances. "We did what we had to do," Scott answered.
"And you won't tell me about it."
A pause, before Scott answered again, sounding reluctant. "We're sorry, but we can't. It's taken care of. Don't worry about it."
She noticed they were both still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. "When did you get in?"
"A little while ago." Scott took a step back. "We'll go and let you get dressed."
She threw clothes on quickly and started downstairs, some bright and alert instinct telling her something was wrong. And that they would never tell her what it was. Always treating her like a baby... Impatience stirred inside her. When would they realize she was an adult woman? And when did I realize that? she wondered a moment later. Just outside the kitchen she heard voices and paused, then crept closer, feeling a small stab of conscience at her eavesdropping, but this was the only way, they would never tell her the truth, somehow she knew that.
She knew them well enough to see and hear the subtle differences between them. Now, she knew it was Patrick speaking, as she listened from behind the partially open door.
"We should call. Get help."
"Too dangerous. They'd trace the call. And by the time we could get to a public phone, Eric will be there anyway."
"I hope it's not too late."
"We already disobeyed, by leaving him alive. We've done all we can do."
She waited, but there was no more. Something bad had happened. She wondered who it was they had left alive, who it was they were worried about. Not Wes, please, she thought with a pang of fear.
They arrived at Bio-Lab, just like any other morning, in one car this time, since Eric planned on going home with Gaby that evening. They parked, got out, hurried to the front door and down the hallway. Paused in front of Gaby's office door.
"Sorry to rush, but I'm late," she said, fishing in her purse for her office key.
"And whose fault is that?" he asked.
She made a face at him. "Oh, go on, don't you have work to do?"
"See you for lunch?"
"Sure." She smiled and pecked him quickly on the chin before opening her door.
And then he was on his way to his own office, automatically glancing into the rooms he passed, noting that nothing was out of place. Only a few minutes walk until he stopped in front of his door. A few seconds to find his key, a moment of surprise as he turned it, and found the door already unlocked. He always locked his door at night... A second to push the door open, an endless moment to stand, frozen in shock and horror.
Without thinking, almost without realizing it, he raised his morpher to his face, hearing his voice tremble as he called. "Wes?"
The response came quickly. "Eric? What's wrong?"
"I'm in my office... I... We need help, a doctor..."
"Are you all right?"
"It's Steve, he's hurt." Eric could feel his mind and his voice becoming steadier. "I'll call 911. You see if you can get someone from the infirmary. Hurry!"
"Right. I'll call, and be right there."
Moments later Eric held his cell phone to his ear, only half aware of the 911 operator assuring him help was on the way. His desk phone had been ripped loose and thrown on the floor, along with everything else that had been on his desk. In their place...
Steve Miller lay on his back across the desktop, arms and legs dangling over the edges, eyes closed, still breathing, thank God, blood matted in his hair, smeared across his face, and pooled beneath his head. It had dripped down the side of the desk, leaving red trails, spreading a dark stain across the carpet, still wet. So much blood... he could almost smell it... Eric was far from being squeamish, but nausea knotted his stomach.
Spread out, like a primitive sacrifice, his desk used as the altar... He swallowed. Why? Steve had made a few enemies, it was inevitable in his job. Had one of them done this, for revenge? Or had he surprised a thief last night while on duty? Had this simply seemed like a convenient place to leave his unconscious body, or was there more to it? The attack might have been directed against Steve, but this... Had whoever did this meant him to find his friend dead? There were only three people in the world more important to him... his stomach twisted again at the thought of finding one of them like this.
He heard running footsteps and turned to see Wes charge into the doorway, stare, and gasp, "Oh my God..."
"I found him like this. My door was unlocked." His mouth tightened. "I think someone wanted me to see it..."
"But... who would have done this?"
"I don't know." But his jaw clenched as the image of Patrick Ryder flashed across his mind.
Before Wes could respond, Eric saw movement in the hallway, and recognized one of the doctors from the infirmary, and a nurse. He and Wes stood aside to let them go in. In moments they were bent over Steve, murmuring to each other. And then more people, paramedics rushing in with their equipment, as his office filled with activity.
It took a while, but a stretcher arrived, Steve was finally fitted with a neck support and lifted onto it, and then was being wheeled out. As Eric started after it, he spotted Gaby in the crowd of employees who had gathered in the hallway. Silently, he reached out to her, and folded her in his arms as she pressed her face into his neck, for once not caring who saw them.
"Is he going to be all right?" she asked.
"I don't know. I just know I'm going to get whoever did this. And I have a few ideas."
She tilted her head back to look at him. "Don't do anything..."
"What? Stupid?" He let go and stepped back.
"She's right." Wes had appeared next to them, his eyes moving to meet Eric's. "No proof," he said softly. "No evidence of any kind. We'll get the cops in."
"We can do this ourselves."
"With the police, Eric."
He snarled, unreasoning rage beginning to replace horror. "No! I want to go out there and take care of them, my way!"
"Now who's being irrational?"
"Wes, please..." Gaby glanced at him, then turned her attention back to Eric. "Think about it. What possible motive would Patrick or Scott have to do this? You have no logical reason to think it's them."
"Shit..." He sighed. "I'd better go to the hospital with Steve."
"Okay. Maybe I'll see you later," Wes said.
Something in his face caught Eric's attention. "What are you going to do?"
"See Violet. If it is them, maybe she knows something. Meanwhile, you should talk to the police."
It made sense. He would rather have gone out to that farmhouse, kicked down the door, and beaten the truth out of Patrick and Scott, but... "Okay," he said. Wes turned away, then stopped long enough for a faint smile as he added, "Thanks."
It was an hour before Wes could get away from Bio-Lab, another half-hour before he parked at the Ryder house and stared for a few moments before getting out of the car. The old farmhouse looked sinister to him now, as he wondered what secrets it hid, what really went on in those rooms. But he wasn't going to find out by standing there. He walked quickly to the front door.
When the door opened he was disappointed to see a man facing him. "Which one are you?" he demanded, rudely.
"Scott," he said, looking Wes up and down coldly. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to Violet."
"She's busy."
"It's important." Wes took a step forward, but Scott stayed where he was, blocking the way, his eyes flaring with anger. "I intend to see her," he said, letting his own anger show.
"Wes!" Violet's voice interrupted them, her face appeared over Scott's shoulder, smiling at him. "Wes, I -- I'm glad to see you!"
"Violet. Tell your guard dog here to let me talk to you."
"She doesn't want to talk to you."
Violet spoke up before he could answer. "Yes, I do!"
"Violet, it's not a good idea."
"Why? What are you afraid she'll tell me?"
"Nothing."
"Scott, let me go out and talk to him."
Wes caught another flash of anger in Scott's face, something chilling, as he stood aside. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder if he was putting Violet in danger by coming to see her. But he had little choice at this point. He resolved to make it fast.
They retreated to his car to talk. Wes faced her, seeing a smile that quickly faded. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"You remember Steve Miller? The short man, dark hair, wearing a uniform like mine, who came here with me and Eric?"
"Yes, I remember..." He thought he saw a hint of caution come into her expression.
"He was attacked, last night or early this morning, at Bio-Lab. Could have died. Still might."
Her eyes had dropped to the ground as he spoke. "That's terrible," she said softly. "I hope he'll be all right."
"Yes, it's terrible." Wes paused, watching her, and then just asked it. "Do you know anything about it?"
Her gaze jerked back up to his face. "Do I... Why would I know anything?"
"Because something's going on here. Something Patrick and Scott haven't told us. I don't trust them."
She was staring at the ground again, her face set and unhappy. "Wes, they've been so good to me, like parents... I'm sure they would never do anything wrong..." Despite her words, the face she raised to him was troubled.
Anger pushed Wes to keep going. "Steve was left in Eric's office, badly injured. Lying on his desk for him to find, for Christ's sake, blood all over... If you're protecting the kind of -- of monsters who could do that..."
She shook her head, staring at him. "They would never do something like that! They couldn't!" But her voice quivered slightly, and he thought he could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes.
"Jen would tell me the truth. She always tried to do the right thing. If she's inside you, somewhere..." Wes trailed off as Violet pressed a hand to her mouth, turning her head, her eyes filling with pain.
"I'm not Jen!" she cried. "I know you want me to be her, but I'm not!"
Unexpected compassion softened his determination, blunted his anger. He reached to touch her cheek, then quickly pulled his hand back. "All right," he said. "I'm sorry, Violet."
She still avoided his gaze. "Maybe you should go."
Guilt and frustration briefly struggled inside him, but he sensed arguments or apologies would do more harm than good. "All right. But -- look, if you need to tell me anything, or just talk, or if -- if anything happens and you need help... here's my number." He handed her one of his business cards. "You can always reach me on my cell phone. Call anytime. For any reason."
She took it, looked at it, folded it into her hand, and nodded without looking at him.
"Better go back now," Wes said. "And -- don't tell Scott what I said. Tell him I asked you to go out with me again. Tell him anything."
She nodded again, and stood there, not moving as he drove off.
TBC...