Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Any others you don't recognize are mine.
Sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.
This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.
Reviews are always appreciated.
Red Fire
The Promise
"Wes…" Eric called again, and saw his friend blink up at him in the flashlight beam. Carefully he unbuttoned Wes's jacket and examined him as well as he could. No obvious bleeding. Internal injuries, then. "Where does it hurt?" he asked.
"My ribs…" Wes touched his side.
"Probably broken. Just lie quiet. You'll be okay."
"It hurts."
"I know. Try to relax."
Eric took his hand, briefly wondering if the touch would be comforting or offensive. But Wes smiled faintly and squeezed his fingers. Eric smiled back, not saying what he was thinking, that judging by Wes's paleness he was bleeding internally. He needed medical attention, and fast.
Soon they were in the dark again, the flashlight off to save the battery. It was silent, except for Wes's labored breathing. But as long as he was breathing, he was alive. Eric strained his eyes, seeing only a dim form lying on the floor. Less light here than in the clock tower, that night. Shouldn't have brought it up, shouldn't have argued about it. He had promised…
He had been happy, even knowing they were likely to die soon, the happiness of finally touching Wes, kissing him, making love with him, feeling desired by him for a few minutes. He had felt as if his heart would crack with it… and then the fall back to earth, pushed away as if he was dirty and disgusting, as if he had made Wes dirty too.
They had been silent for a while afterwards. Wes had gotten up without looking at him, had found a stack of pictures of his friends and teammates and stood staring at them, as if reminding himself of Jen. He had looked so miserably unhappy that compassion had overcome Eric's own pain. He told himself how difficult this must be for a man who had apparently always considered himself straight, who was now forced to confront the fact that he might not be.
Mostly for something to say, he asked, "Your friends. How do you know they're okay?"
"I don't."
There wasn't even enough time for him to feel relief that Wes was still speaking to him. That was when the cyclobots attacked, dozens, maybe hundreds of them, flooding the old clock tower. The two of them fought, side by side, almost overwhelmed by sheer numbers, but Wes came up with a plan. He set one of the weapons his friends had left to explode, while he and Eric barely escaped with their lives, crashing out through the glass of the clock face as the tower exploded behind them.
After that they returned to Bio-Lab, found that Mr. Collins was missing, and set out to search for him. Walking the streets of a city demolished by Ransik's attack, littered with rubble, fires, wrecked cars, ruined buildings, lost lives… their own personal problems had receded into insignificance.
They had found Wes's father, saved him from a band of cyclobots, had a brief father-son reunion. And then, Eric had seen one of the fallen robots stir, aim its blaster at Wes and Mr. Collins. He had acted without thinking, jumped between them and it, taken the blast even as he shot back, felt energy burn through him in a torrent of pain.
The only really clear thing he remembered after that was lying on the ground, Mr. Collins supporting his head, looking up at Wes's face, and realizing he was going on to fight Ransik, Frax, and their robots alone, knowing he was almost certainly going to his death just as Alex had predicted. Eric tried, tried to get up and go with him, but for once his body failed him; he was too weak.
So he had done the only thing left for him to do, given up the only thing left for him to give. His morpher. He could remember that clearly, too, bringing it to his face, the sense of loss as he gave the command to deactivate its lock on his voice, as the telepathic bond he shared with it was broken. All worth it, to see the expression on Wes's face as he took it, and to clasp hands with him as friends and comrades.
He had had plenty of time to think after that, after he knew Wes had survived and that Ransik and Frax were defeated. Days of lying in a hospital bed, staring at a blank white ceiling, wondering if his future would be just as empty. To his surprise, the other Rangers had returned the morpher - just when he had realized that the power it gave was not the answer he was looking for. No, power hadn't made him happy, not the way those few minutes in the clock tower had. But that would never happen again. He had told Wes the truth, been crushingly rejected, and probably turned the fragile friendship they had begun into hatred. In a way he was glad he didn't have enough strength to feel the full impact of despair.
Still - Wes had come to see him, along with the other Rangers, who had returned at the last minute and helped win the fight. It had been a strange visit, both of them smiling and making all the appropriate noises of concern, but with an almost visible wall between them. He had been glad when it was over, but the small gesture of friendship had cheered him.
And then, the beach. The final goodbyes with the Rangers from the future. They had all lined up to shake his hand and smile, and thank him for his help. Feeling somewhat overcome, he had stood next to Mr. Collins with a troop of Guardians and watched them walk with Wes toward their timeship. There were hugs, and tears. And the moment when he wanted to turn his eyes away, feeling a sharp stab of jealousy but also a reluctant sympathy, when Wes and Jen hugged tightly before she turned, crying, and ran to her ship.
Collins left his side to go to his son, after the ship vanished into the black and violet whirlpool of the timehole that took them home. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"What now, son?"
"I don't know."
"I have a business proposition for you."
"Dad, come on!"
"Now, hear me out." They started back towards Eric, Collins' arm around Wes's shoulders. "I'm making some changes in the Guardians. We'll protect the entire city. For free. And I need a good leader." They stopped. "How about it?"
Eric had been expecting this and thought he had been prepared, but it was a struggle not to reveal what he was feeling as Wes looked at his father and then at him. But then - he couldn't help his astonishment from showing when Wes smiled at his father and announced, "I'll do it!" then even more as he continued, "But - I want Eric to be my partner."
Not trusting himself to speak, and not at all sure he understood, Eric took Wes's hand when he offered it and returned his smile. Collins dropped a proud arm around both of their shoulders. Wes held up the badge Jen had given him before she left and said something about the future looking bright. It was over - but only on the surface, Eric knew.
They were all heading back to the highway, the squad of Guardians marching ahead, when Wes stopped and turned back. "I need to talk to you," he said to Eric. "Would you excuse us a minute, Dad?"
Collins glanced at his face and then at Eric. "Of course. I'll wait in the car."
They faced each other as the older man walked away, faces grim now, a thin ocean breeze chilling Eric as they just stared for a few moments. "Did you know about this?" Wes finally asked.
"Yes. Your father told me he wanted to put you in charge. He wants to give you a good job. Seems natural."
"What about you?"
Eric shrugged. "He said I'd keep my rank and salary, under your command. But that's really up to you, I guess."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd like to stay with the Guardians. When you take charge, it'll be your choice whether to let me stay on." He raised his chin, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.
"Eric, I have no intention of taking over from you. If you want, I can still turn it down. But I'd like to do it. I was thinking more of being equal partners, if you're willing."
"If I'm..." Eric paused for a moment to get his voice under control. "Yeah, that sounds -- pretty good."
"But there's a condition to us working together." Wes held his eyes, his gaze intense. "We both forget about what happened in the clock tower. Never mention it again. Never."
Eric stared back, feeling another little part of his heart turn bitter with those words, another tiny shred of hope lost. But he answered steadily enough, "If that's what you want."
"That's the way it has to be. Promise."
"Okay," Eric said very softly. "It'll be like it never happened. I promise."
"Good."
Eric spent only a moment on wishing that they could be partners in another sense, and then put that thought away forever, resolved to be grateful for what he had. His job, now shared with someone he knew he could work with. His morpher. A bright future, as Wes had said.
It had worked well, for the most part. There had been moments of discomfort, little things mostly, Wes at first avoiding being alone with him, always keeping himself covered in the locker room, flinching at a casual touch. But it had gotten easier. They had almost managed to put it behind them, to actually forget it, and Eric had almost been able to convince himself that Wes was no more than a friend and partner to him. Until tonight.
A noise from outside caught his attention, the memories shattering and falling away as he looked up at the door. The distinctive sound of blaster shots. Several of them, then more, coming fast, getting closer.
"What's that?" Wes gasped. "I hear something."
"I'll check it out."
Eric got up and went to the door, listening. No doubt about it. It had to be Steve and the Silver Guardians, come to the rescue. The problem was, who was going to save them? They had no defense against blast rifles. Someone would certainly be killed. Unless he did something. He hesitated, looking back at Wes, then went to him and knelt.
"Stay here, and don't move."
"Where are you going?"
"Steve and the guys are moving in. I have to go out and help."
"No! You won't be able to stay morphed more than a few minutes, not if you get hit."
"Gotta do it, Wes. No choice." He glanced up at the door as the sounds grew louder.
"Eric, no, you'll be killed…" Wes strained to sit up, cried out, and sank back, face contorted in pain.
"Wes! God… Just lie there, will you? You'll only hurt yourself."
"Don't do it!" Wes reached up to grab his hand again.
"You'd do the same thing."
"No…" Wes had closed his eyes, breathing in painful gasps that sent a chill of fear though Eric.
He pulled free as gently as he could, and then bent down, trying to see that pale face in the dim light, brushing blond hair with his fingertips. Wes seemed almost unaware, his eyes still closed. Eric paused, and lightly touched his arm.
And then he was on his feet, back at the door, wrestling with the bolt before he managed to slide it back. A thought struck him, and he quickly crossed the room to pick up a blast rifle one of their captors had dropped during the previous struggle. If he didn't have to use the Defender, he'd have a little more time.
He raised his morpher and called out, "Quantum Power!" hardly noticing the surge of power and energy that swept through him. A glance back, Ranger-enhanced senses letting him see clearly. Wes's strained face was turned towards him, eyes open now but unfocused. Eric turned away, not letting himself think it might be his last look.
Now or never. With a heave, he shoved the door open, and charged out into a raging firefight. There seemed to be blasters all around him as he dived for the floor, rolled, and tried to find cover. The edges of an energy beam caught him, causing no more than a painful tingle, as he slid behind a support column and glanced around.
He was in the middle of it, behind four of the thieves, but two of them were behind him, aiming at him from the cover of a large piece of machinery. He moved, putting the column between himself and them, and began picking off the ones in front, their backs to him until they caught on and turned around. But it was too late, he had already stunned two of them.
Several of the Guardians took advantage of the distraction to move forward. The barrage of blaster fire intensified as Eric tried to hit the two behind him, succeeding in stunning one. He heard a cry and looked around to see a Guardian and another of the thieves down. It was only a moment's inattention, but a shot caught him from behind.
His morpher was already almost drained; it gave up with a flashing sparkle as he demorphed. Groaning, he fell to lie flat, hoping the column he was still behind would protect him long enough to let him recover. Navy blue uniforms ran past, his men, pursuing the last of their opponents, then one of them stopping to bend over him.
"Eric! Are you okay?"
"Steve…" Eric said, managing to roll onto his back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Keep going."
The action moved away, blaster shots fading as the last of the thieves were chased down. There was no one in the immediate area. In the sudden peace, Eric pushed himself up to his knees, waited for his head to stop spinning, and climbed to his feet. Unsteadily he made his way back to the darkened room that had been their prison for the last hours. He walked in, waited for his eyes to adjust. And froze.
It was Joe, the edges of his tall form outlined by light coming through the doorway. He was standing over Wes, pointing a blast rifle directly at his head, but looking at Eric. "Looks like I have my hostage, after all," he said softly.
"What do you want?" Eric asked, firmly pulling in his fear and anger.
"You know what I want. Safe passage out of here."
"I don't know if I can arrange that."
"Try." Suddenly and viciously, he kicked Wes in the belly, hard. The injured man cried out and doubled up around himself, groaning.
"Stop it!" Eric shouted. Then more quietly, "All right, I'll try. Don't hurt him."
"Take off your morpher. And the blaster."
"Okay." Slowly, Eric unstrapped his morpher, held it out, and dropped it, thankful that Joe didn't know enough to force him to release the voice lock and take it. Then, he carefully pulled his Guardian blaster out of its holster and dropped it too.
Joe stepped back. "Pick him up."
Eric stayed where he was. "No. He's got internal injuries. Moving him might kill him."
The thief shot him an angry look, and stepped closer to Wes again. "Just do it!" he snarled.
Eric spoke quickly, his voice level. "Touch him again and either I'll kill you or you'll have to kill me. Then you'll have nothing. I can walk, use me as a hostage instead."
Joe glanced down at Wes, who now appeared to be unconscious, and then back up. "All right, I guess you'll do. Just walk out, slow and steady. Remember, I'm right behind you. One fast move and you're dead."
Raising his hands, Eric started out. They went through the doorway. There was still no one in sight. "Head for the side door," the voice behind him said. Eric turned in that direction, trying to watch his captor out of the corner of his eye, and took a few steps, as slowly as he dared. Joe's footsteps came closer. Eric felt a sharp jab in his back, the rifle barrel poking him, as the taller man said impatiently, "Hurry up!"
"You bet," Eric muttered under his breath, even as he pretended to stumble, dived for the floor, landed on his hands and kicked up and back with both feet, one driving the rifle up, the other catching Joe in the chest. In an instant he was back on his feet, then in a spin kick that knocked the weapon flying.
Eric moved in, a quick side kick to Joe's hip keeping him off-balance, then a hard punch to the face, crude but satisfying. Finally, a deliberately aimed kick in the crotch, producing a scream of agony and leaving his opponent clutching himself and groaning on the dusty floor, partial revenge for Wes, and it was over.
"I don't need a morpher or a blaster to take care of a scumbag like you," Eric growled, as a couple of Guardians came into sight. "Arrest him," he called to them, starting back to Wes. "Call for an ambulance and send the EMT's in here as soon as they show up!"
For a moment he feared the worst, finding his partner lying so still and pale, but he was still breathing in that harsh, rasping way, and his face was tight with pain. Eric sank to his knees, reached out, stroked Wes's hair, touched his cheek, held his hand, called his name.
"Hold on, Wes, it won't be long," he said.
No response, no sign of consciousness. The memories he had relived in the last hours played in Eric's mind again, the times in school, their friendship and its ending, their hostility and how that ended too. All the battles they had shared, side by side, back to back, teammates, partners, friends. The few brief moments when they had become lovers.
How much time had it been? More than twelve years, almost half his life, since that first meeting. So many changes since the day at school when Wes had smiled at him for the first time, and held out his hand in friendship. So many mistakes… And now it might all be over, with no more second chances, Wes's life cut short, all his hopes and dreams gone forever.
As he heard voices, the EMT's coming at last, Eric bent to kiss Wes, just a light touch with his lips, just for a fleeting moment. "Forgive me, Wes," he whispered. "I love you."
TBC...