Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
Elsa was holding one of the ThunderMax Sabers; one of the Rangers must have dropped it during the fight with the drones.
She was charging it, aiming it at Conner.
Wait, I remember this.
Kira felt at her own hip, and her blaster wasn't in its holster.
But her holster wasn't there. Dr. O. had removed it.
"Conner..." Kira started, but Elsa was quick, too quick, and she was firing, firing, again and again, and there was a barrage of light, and he was sheathed in smoke, flipping through the air, collapsing to the ground hard, losing his morph. Dr. O. and Ethan were surrounded by drones, same as before, and Kira was alone, same as before.
Elsa approached Conner with a nasty smirk on her face, pointing the blaster and firing at point-blank range. Conner twitched once then lay still, and Elsa threw the gun to the ground and vacated the premises. Kira darted to Conner's side and dropped to her knees in one motion, murmuring his name over and over as she struggled to lift his motionless body off the pavement. She powered down, feeling for a pulse but finding none, feeling his flesh grow cold, choking on smoke and tears. Not again. "Conner...Conner! Wake up!" But he wasn't stirring. He wasn't waking. "CONNER!" she shrieked desperately, and her mournful cry lapsed into a full-on Ptera scream.
She woke with a violent spasm, and found herself once again spread out on black sheets, surrounded by off-white walls. Conner was sitting in his chair, watching her. He got up and knelt beside her when he saw she was awake. "Another dream?"
"Same." She was trembling, terrified. Seeing Conner so close, seeing the flush in his cheeks, seeing his chest expand and contract with a healthy, normal intake of oxygen --very much alive-- was nerve wracking. "It wasn't my gun. You died the same way, but it wasn't...it wasn't mine." She sat up, shaking her head to clear the remnants of the dream. "What am I doing here? I thought I told you to take me home."
"I was trying to, but you passed out in my car, and I thought it would be better if I brought you back here."
"But..." she clapped her hand over her mouth as a new realization hit her, distracting her from her original train of thought. "Oh God, did I scream again?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't..." she searched his face worriedly.
Conner merely shrugged. "I'm getting better at covering my ears. Still hurts, though."
"But your parents..."
"Oh, that..." Suddenly he stiffened, getting to his feet fast. "Lay down," he ordered, pushing her back down on the mattress. "Stay still." He drew the blanket up over her, threw a pillow on top of her, and fiddled with something on the bed. Kira dutifully lay still, a puzzled expression crossing her face. Moments later she understood as she heard a soft hum of music and the door to Conner's room opening.
"Conner, what on earth is going on? Is everything okay? I heard a noise..."
"Sorry, Mom," she heard Conner say sheepishly. "I was messing with the stereo, and..." She could just picture him shrugging.
"For the love of...go to bed, would you, Conner? It's late. The neighbors are going to..." Conner's mother sighed, and the door shut. Conner turned off the stereo, and Kira counted to ten before pushing the covers off of her. Conner was at his bedroom door, locking it.
"You couldn't have locked it before?"
"She would have been more suspicious if I had," he said.
"I'm not staying, you know."
"You had another dream. You're staying."
"You can't make me stay," she said hotly, getting out of the bed. He stepped directly in her path, staring down at her.
"Kira, if you aren't going to stay for your own good, then at least do it for my peace of mind, okay? Please." His hand was grabbing hers. The same hands that had touched in the kitchen...he was holding her hand now, and he was trying to help her. Conner wasn't the best leader, or the best fighter, and he certainly wasn't the brains of the group, but he tried, dammit.
"Okay," she said. She sat back down on the mattress, reluctant to let go of his hand, but doing so anyway. "Where are you going to sleep?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Floor."
"No way. Not in your own room."
"I'm not making you sleep on the floor in your condition."
"My condition? Like I'm going to break or something." She rolled her eyes, and was surprised to see him grinning widely at her. "What?"
"Now that's the Kira I know and love," he said.
She smiled back at him, feeling better with every passing minute. But had he said love..? No. He didn't mean it like that. She shrugged it off. "I'm taking the floor."
"I don't want you to do that," he insisted. He had never shown her this kind of respect, this kind of compassion before. Usually he just blurted out whatever came into his mind, regardless if it was hurtful or not. A lot of the times, he didn't even realize it was hurtful. She was surprised that he could be so sweet, and decided to take advantage of it. "Fine." She sat back down on the bed, noting for the first time that he'd removed her shoes for her. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning? I'm not missing school again."
"You can go from here. I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes for you..." he said, frowning as he gazed at his closet.
"No girl clothes?" she teased.
"Nothing yellow," he returned with a wicked grin. She laughed and hit his arm lightly. "You're an idiot sometimes."
He shrugged, an admission of the truth.
"You can sleep on the bed, too," Kira said. Conner's eyebrows shot up. "I mean, on top of the covers, and I can be under, or vice versa...I'm just saying, it's a big bed, and I don't think you should have to sleep on the floor, is all," she finished hurriedly, her cheeks showing her embarrassment at the implications of her proposal. Not that she was implying anything, really, she was only trying to be fair. And Conner knew that she wasn't interested in him like that. God knew he wasn't interested in her like that.
Then she remembered the comforting hugs, the brief, fleeting touches here and there...
The tingling sensation she felt...
No way. The tingling sensation was a side effect of the weird mood she'd been in. Like the prickling behind her eyes that was omnipresent these past few days, and the random passing out. And Conner, Conner was just trying to be nice to her because she was turning into a space case. He was probably getting a serious kick out of this, amused that for once someone was being stupider than him.
"If you're sure..." he said hesitantly.
"Don't make me take it back," she said, more harshly than she'd intended, but he only quirked his lips. "If that's what you want..." he said. "I'm gonna change, if that's all right with you. Do you gotta use the bathroom or something?" She nodded. "Okay, it's the first door to your left. Try not to make too much noise. Parents."
"Right, of course," she said. She undid the deadbolt on the door and started to open it cautiously when Conner said, "Kira, here." She turned, her reflexes just fast enough to catch what he'd thrown at her. "I figured you might wanna change," he said. She looked down, it looked like an old shirt. "Uh, thanks," she said, and quickly ducked out of the room.
She made quick work of the bathroom, not wanting to run the risk of facing Conner's parents. Plus, if she had another 'episode', it would be better to do it in Conner's room, and save him the trouble of trying to carry her again. Poor guy. She knew he was strong, and she knew she was fairly petite, but it still couldn't have been easy, hauling all that dead weight. And up stairs! She had a new respect for her teammate when she thought about it. Conner was really being a stand-up guy here, astonishing behavior from a guy she had long ago written off as a complete egomaniacal jerk.
When she had finished with her super-quick shower, that hadn't been much more than stepping in and out of the bathtub, she glanced at Conner's peace offering to her, a fire engine red soccer jersey. One of many, though it wasn't officially from the team or anything. Considering his height and her lack of it, it covered everything that needed to be covered, and was actually quite comfortable. Satisfied, Kira retreated for Conner's room. He was lying down on one side of the bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He glanced at her when she came in. "You weren't gone long."
"Too risky," she said, fastening the deadbolt behind her. He was in red boxers and a white wife beater, and she averted her eyes, too freaked out by the whole situation.
"Shirt fit okay?" he asked.
"Fine, thanks." She put her dirty clothes in a neatly folded bundle next to the bed and climbed under the covers. "You will never speak of this to Ethan," she said.
Conner laughed. "Gotcha."
"Or Dr. O., for that matter."
"Do you think I particularly want to die young?" he asked, laughing slightly. She rolled her eyes and smiled.
Conner turned off the light, and they both lay there. Kira had the feeling that the Red Ranger was still awake. Sure enough... "Kira, are you asleep?"
"No."
"Do you want to, like, talk?"
She cocked an eyebrow, not that he could see her reaction. "About..?"
"I dunno. Anything."
"Since when did you become Mr. Sensitivity?" she teased.
"I must've gotten knocked on the head or something," he returned. "Can I ask about your dream?"
The dream. For a few minutes, she'd managed to get it out of her mind, but it all came back now in full Technicolor, with surround sound. Like a real memory. She had to reach out for Conner's arm and grab it to reassure herself that it hadn't happened. Yet.
"Kira, you okay?" he asked worriedly, shifting next to her, creaking the mattress. She could feel his eyes boring into her in the dark, though she doubted he could see much of her.
She moved her hand from him. "It's...it's just so vividly real, you know? I know it sounds crazy, but it feels like it happened. I think about it, and I can smell the smoke, I can hear the sounds..."
"Maybe it's like sensory memory or something," he said. "I mean, you've dealt with the weapons often enough by now that you know exactly what they look like, feel like, smell, sound, et cetera. And that's just coming together with your dream."
"Maybe." It was an unusually well thought out response from Conner, which caught her by surprise. But unfortunately, she knew he was wrong. "Can we talk about something else?"
"I don't know...maybe you should talk about this."
"I've already told you what happens, Conner. You die. It was the same in both dreams."
"Yeah, well, why me?"
"You think I know? I dunno, probably because Elsa hates you."
"Elsa hates all of us."
"I don't know, Conner, God. I'm not a frigging psychic." Then she realized what she'd said, and thought about her dreams, and laughed. "This is..." She shook her head slightly. "Can we talk about anything else?"
"How about your thing for Trent?"
Kira felt her face go hot, and was again grateful that he couldn't see her. "I don't have a thing for Trent," she said, keeping her voice remarkably even.
"Ethan says otherwise. He says you saw Trent and referred to him as being 'wow.'" Conner laughed softly. "I don't see it, personally. I think I'm about a million times more 'wow' than Trent."
"The only 'wow' that applies to you is the one for your ego," she said, but she was oddly pleased by Conner's sudden bout of ego. It was something familiar to her, and she appreciated anything familiar at the moment. She sighed thoughtfully. "I don't know. Trent's a nice guy." Oddly enough, she didn't have anything else to contribute to that. But she was uncomfortable with all the talk about herself. "What about you, any special ladies?"
"Me?" Conner laughed. "No way. I mean, with school and soccer and being a Ranger now, too? Like I have the time for girls. Especially since I have this whole secret life and everything. Too much of a pain."
"No one will go out with you, huh," she said.
"That was brutal," he said, but she thought she heard amusement in his tone.
"So is there anyone you're at least interested in?"
"Well...there's someone, sorta..."
"Hmm. Do I know her?"
"What, so you can give her a heads-up and she can start running? I don't think so." Kira gave a squeak of indignation. "Yeah, you know her," Conner conceded finally. "But I'm not telling you who she is. I don't really know how I feel about her yet."
There was something in his voice that made her decide to drop this particular line of questioning. "How come Dr. O. never talks about his past?" she asked.
"He does."
"Not really. Vague allusions...I think he figures that we saw the video diary, and we know everything there is to know. He almost never brings up any of it. I mean...there must be some good memories in there, right? Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered trying to form a new team."
"I think he probably still would have formed a new team," Conner said thoughtfully. "Dr. O.'s the kind of guy that would try to save the world if he was in a wheelchair. He's just a stand-up kind of guy, you know?"
"Yeah, you're right," she said. "Still, I just wish he would trust us enough to actually tell us something every now and again, is all."
"The mysterious thing is getting annoying," he agreed.