Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own anything you recognize.
BEHIND THE CLOUDS
By Etcetera Kit
Chapter Twelve: Shadows IV
Chaos had broken loose over the command center. Trent stood up from where he had been sitting and monitoring the energy readings in the city. Paris had burst into the room with Kira hot on her heels. Neither of them looked great given the disguises, but Paris looked ready to slaughter someone. Her artfully messed up hair had truly been messed up, there was a huge hole in her fishnets and her shoes were off. She clutched her right shoulder with her left hand and a bloodstained bandana was tied around her upper arm.
"That was not worth it!" Paris yelled.
Tommy gave her a mild look. "Did you make the arrest?"
"Of course!" The A-Squad Pink Ranger pulled a containment card out of the waistband of her shorts and threw it on the main console. The person trapped within was muttering squeaky obscenities and gesticulating wildly.
"What happened to you?"
"One of those apes tried to rape me!" Trent winced at her blunt language. "He didn't – and he now has a laser burn on his face!"
"Did you kill him?"
"Stunned him – do I look stupid?"
Tommy looked like he was torn between being horrified and amused. "Trent," he said. "Take Paris to the infirmary so Doctor Felix can have a look at her arm." Doctor Felix was one of the doctors on staff in the infirmary – he had feline ancestry and specialized in cuts, burns and broken bones. "Kira, you can debrief me." Kira did look in much better shape to give the debriefing than Paris did.
Trent went over to Paris, cupping her elbow. She jerked her arm away from him and stalked ahead of him for the infirmary. He sighed and followed. No one was in the halls late on Sunday night – the infirmary was as deserted as the halls. Doctor Felix was sitting behind the main desk when they walked in.
"Room two," he said immediately.
"Want me to come with you?" he asked Paris.
She gave him a neutral look, but her eyes looked weary. As much as she put on bravado, she wanted someone with her. Trent followed her into the room and helped her sit on the examining table. She turned towards him, her lips inches from his. "I was on the fringes of a knife fight," she murmured. "Can you believe it?"
"I can believe it." His lips brushed hers and she pressed them together, seeking harder, deeper kisses. Relief coursed through him – and he hadn't been aware of how worried he had been about her. She was here, alive and relatively unscathed.
"You owe me dinner," she whispered against his lips.
"I know. Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere, as long as dessert is you."
He didn't have time to reply to the innuendo as Doctor Felix picked that moment to come into the room with his cart of tricks. They were silent as the doctor put on some gloves and began to examine the bandana. Paris winced as he took the bandana off. The scab had obviously included the material, because fresh blood appeared on the cut.
"It's not bleeding much anymore," Felix said. "But I have a feeling this is going to need stitches – not many though."
Paris sucked in some air through her teeth as Felix began to clean the wound. Without all the dried blood around it, the cut looked much better. A few stitches that would dissolve in a few days and Doctor Felix said she could leave. Trent could see the amusement in the doctor's face – Paris had managed to end up in the infirmary more often than not lately.
They walked out to the hall in silence.
"I could use something extremely alcoholic," Paris said suddenly.
"Don't you have alcohol in your apartment?"
"Not anymore – regulations."
Trent shrugged as they turned down the hall that led to the officer apartments. "It's technically not regulation for people over twenty-one to have any."
"But I'm guessing you do."
"We're cops – everyone needs a stiff drink every so often."
He paused as they came to her door. Paris swiped her key card and the door slid open. "Want to come in for a drink or something? I might have some tea or soda."
"Sure."
Following Paris into the apartment, he was struck by the neatness of the place. The main room wasn't obsessive-compulsively neat, but everything was in its place and the room had a homey feel to it. The furniture was provided by SPD, but Paris had throw pillows, afghans and tablecloths covering up the drab surfaces. The counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment had pictures lining it.
She deposited the huge purse she had taken on the assignment inside the door and moved into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she frowned. "I've got lots of cookies and cranberry juice," she announced. "Help yourself – I'm going to go change clothes."
He watched her disappear into her bedroom, fully appreciating how she carried herself. She kept her back straight, chin up and proud. No wonder she intimidated most of the people she came across – she was confident. Trent moved to the counter, studying the pictures. Most of them were pictures of herself and siblings, her family, even a baby picture of the siblings. But it was the picture on the end that intrigued him. She was younger and standing outside someone's dorm room at the academy. She was wearing a black halter top and a black miniskirt – drawing attention to her long legs. A boy had his arm slung around her shoulders – he had brown hair that was artfully disheveled and a surprisingly warm smile.
"That's Aidan."
Trent turned to see Paris behind him. She had washed her face and pulled her hair into a ponytail, wearing gray pajama pants and a black tank top.
"Who was he?"
"My boyfriend." She paused, stepping forward and looking at the picture. "He was one of the ones expelled after my sixteenth birthday." She shook her head. "I should have been the one expelled, but Cruger chose him. He was top in our year… he works in his dad's auto shop now." Her eyes looked distant and sad.
"Did you love him?"
"He's a dear friend… but I didn't love him, not like he deserved." Her gaze went from the picture to him. "My Granpa Mitchell said that if you can imagine waking up next to someone every morning for the rest of your life, then that is the person you're destined to be with."
Trent's hand went to her waist. Paris smiled softly at him, her eyes full of an emotion that he couldn't quite identify. He was crazy for even considering this relationship, but there was something in those few kisses they had exchanged – pure fire – that made him think this was different, this might be the one.
"Let's just skip dinner," she whispered, closing the space between them and pressing her body to his. "And go straight to dessert." The last word was against his lips. Her hands were on his chest and she unzipped his uniform jacket, parting the fabric, her hands warm through the thin material of his t-shirt. This was moving too fast… but it was so right.
"Compromise," he whispered against her mouth. Her eyebrow raised, but she didn't say anything. "You let me give you a full body massage and then we'll talk about dessert."
"I'm not going to turn down a massage."
Hours later, thoroughly spent, he glanced down at Paris' sleeping face. Even in sleep, she appeared strong. Perhaps it was her strength that drew him to her. Even being as relatively famous as he was, there had always been easy women around who would do his every bidding in hopes of marrying his money. Paris would never do that – she would challenge him, force him to become better. He, in turn, would be there when she needed someone, when she needed to be taken care of, instead of taking care of those around her.
He couldn't see the future of this relationship, but he did want to take a trip to his mountain house. Long leisurely days and evenings spent making love – the sun set through the bedroom window giving the scene a romantic feel.
Paris, he thought. You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to learning everything about you so you can be loved in the way you truly deserve to be.
Costume fittings were something that needed to happen at every rehearsal Sky decided. It gave him a chance to sit around in the auditorium while the costume crew pinned and measured the cast's clothing. He and Paris were sitting in the third row of the auditorium while Z was sitting in front of them, twisted around so she could talk. Trent and Ethan, the other members of the production crew, were in the booth, playing with lights.
"We should have a Halloween party," Paris said abruptly.
"Halloween party?" Sky echoed.
"Yeah – you know, a dance where everyone wears a costume and refreshments and stupid prizes and things – a masquerade ball."
Z nodded in agreement. "That could be fun." She playfully smacked Sky's arm. "I bet we could make it a hall event for the cadets and get away with it that way."
Sky rolled his eyes, not wanting to plan a Halloween dance in addition to all the rest of the work he had to do. "Didn't you used to plan the movie nights?" he asked Paris. "I wouldn't mind having one of those – it'd be less work."
"I never planned the movie nights," Paris sniffed. "I'm not that lame. I planned all the wild and crazy dances parties."
"When would we have it?" Z asked, obviously thoroughly committed to the idea of having this dance party.
Paris thought for a moment. "Well, the Saturday before Halloween would work out nicely. No one would get in trouble for stuff if we had it on Halloween." She sat up a little straighter in her chair. "And we could have a cake walk – I bet I could get my dad to donate some cakes and cookies and stuff."
"We'd need a time frame and we'd need fliers out within the week."
"Good point – let's say six to eleven and I can get Trent to make the fliers."
Trent – Sky didn't add anything, but it was obvious that there was more going on between Paris and Trent than either one of them wanted to articulate. Little gestures – touching hands, one-armed hugs, kisses on the cheek – that could all be considered harmless and the mark of good friends made him believe something more was there.
"What am I making?"
Trent sat down in the row behind Paris and Sky, closely followed by Ethan. "Fliers for the Halloween party," Paris told him.
"Oh," Trent replied, taking her clipboard from her. He found a relatively unused piece of paper and turned it to the back. Pulling a pen from behind his ear, he began to sketch out a design nodding as Z filled him in on the details.
"We're ready to go in the booth," Ethan told them. "All that's left is a sound check on the mikes and that shouldn't take long."
"As soon as the costume crew lets the leads go, we'll start," Paris said. "And we definitely have to start using the mikes because Violet is going to lose her voice if she keeps up with what she has been doing."
"Let's go shopping for costumes this weekend!" Z said, changing the subject. "My dad gave me some money so I can go get a nice costume."
"I know this great little hole-in-the-wall place downtown." Paris glanced at Sky. "Want to come with us?"
"No."
"Well – too bad! Until Syd pulls her head out of her butt, you're stuck with us."
"Lucky me."
The auditorium was quiet. Most of the cast and crew had departed after striking what needed to be and making sure that everything was locked. Between costume fittings, sound checks and a run-through of act one, Syd wanted to get back to her room and curl up in bed, but she couldn't, not until she had talked to Sky.
He was still in the auditorium, sitting at the piano that was pushed against the apron of the stage. The music that issued forth was slow and sad – the notes rising to the empty hall, singing to the inanimate objects that couldn't hear. This was not unusual – him staying here after everyone left and playing the piano. On more than one occasion, she had sat in the back and listened to him, enjoying the music.
God – she didn't want to have this conversation with him. The accusation of him screwing around with Paris had been ridiculous – Syd could now clearly see that Paris was not screwing around with Sky. She was screwing around with Trent. She was sorry for that, but it was not going to repair things. Their schedules and commitments had kept them apart to the point where their relationship felt strained. This hadn't been a problem in the past, but now… She thought of Bridge and Z, so confident in each other and their love, always finding time to cuddle or go for a walk. Where had that gone for her and Sky?
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the center aisle to the piano, pausing at the side of the instrument and looking down at him. He started and stopped playing.
"Syd, I—"
"No," she interrupted. "Let me." She let out a long breath. "I want to apologize for accusing you of cheating on me with Paris. I know that you wouldn't do that." Syd paused. "Then again, she's with Trent."
The relief in his blue-gray eyes was so evident that she felt her heart sink. He had thought that was the main reason for her anger – and had probably decided that if she discovered the accusation was false, things would be fine.
"But," she said, forcing herself to look at him and see the apprehension there. "I do think we should see other people for a little while."
"Why?"
Such a simple question – a plea, really, for knowledge. Syd reached out, her hand stroking the side of his face. "We don't go for walks or do any of the things we used to do together. We don't have time for each other."
"We can still do those things. We can go for a walk right now and—"
"Sky," she interrupted him, placing an index finger on his lips. "I think we need to be apart for a while just so we can learn to appreciate each other again."
The blank expression on his face was terrifying. When he spoke, his tone was clipped and mechanical. "I can't believe that you would ever doubt that I appreciate you, let alone love you." He shook his head. "You don't know me at all."
"Sky—"
"No," he said, anger in his tone. "Don't try to patronize me. If you don't know that I love you, then perhaps we shouldn't be together at all."
He stood up roughly from the piano, grabbing his sheet music, and stalked out of the auditorium, never once looking back at her. Syd sank down onto the piano bench, tears stinging her eyes. He had wanted to fix things – he had been willing to do whatever she thought he needed to in order for their relationship to be back to what it was. Of all his reactions to being apart for some time, she hadn't expected the anger, the betrayal.
He loves me and I just pushed him away.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Sky," she whispered. There was no way that he would hear her and he was too hurt to consider reconciling now. She had just put another nail in the coffin of their love. "I love you."
A strangled sob escaped her throat. He had always been so gentle, so loving, while at the same time knowing what to do to make her scream with passion. He would run his fingers through her hair and tell her how beautiful she was. He had helped her get her auditions numbers prepared!
"Syd? What are you still doing here?"
With a gasp, she turned to see Z jumping lightly off the stage, still wearing her blacks from running act one. "It's over, Z," she sobbed. "And he's never coming back."
"Sky?"
She nodded. Something unknown flitted over Z's face. The Yellow Ranger shook her head, gazing at her roommate.
"Come on. I think you need some ice cream."
Paris was in an exceptionally good mood. Rehearsals were going well and they were sure to have an awesome show in time for opening night. And on top of that, there was now a Halloween party to look forward to. As much as she liked Christmas, Halloween had to be her second favorite holiday – just because it was a reason to dress up. That – and she was glad that the ice had been broken between her and Trent. He was a lot of things she had been looking for in a boyfriend – mature, independent, sense of humor, artist – the list could go on and on.
She hummed along with the radio as she opened her fridge, scrounging around for something that could pass for dinner. Unlike the dorms, the apartments did not come with an all hours of the day and night pass to the cafeteria. Meals there had to be paid for and she didn't feel like wasting the money when she could eat in her apartment. The contents of her fridge didn't extend beyond cranberry juice and her father's homemade cookies.
"Damn," she said aloud and glanced at the clock on the oven. It was shortly before six, meaning that the afternoon patrol shift was about to be relieved. Trent was out patrolling with Ethan – and he probably wouldn't mind picking up some Chinese.
"I love having a boyfriend," she muttered to herself, locating her cell phone and dialing Trent. He answered and agreed to her request. Pleased with the forthcoming food, Paris danced across the apartment to her bedroom to change out of her uniform. The uniforms were still extremely sexist – the higher-ranking women had skirts. She was willing to redesign the uniforms to something gender-neutral, but Doctor Oliver wasn't having any of it. He claimed they had bigger problems. He was going to have problems when she called up NOW.
"Party, play… sex." She shook her head. "That doesn't fit in the alliteration." She shrugged. "Oh well."
The door chimes to her apartment sounded. She knew it wasn't Trent, because his shift was just now ending and the lines at the restaurants would be atrocious. "Come in!" she called, moving out into the living. She was mildly surprised when Austin came in. Ordinarily, her and Austin got along really well and did have a special bond – but the expression on his face told her that he wasn't here to exchange pleasantries.
"What's wrong?"
"You're sleeping with Trent?"
She blinked, not sure how he found out about that. "Yeah," she replied slowly, narrowing her eyes. "And since my boyfriends aren't your business and since you've never cared about them before, I think this conversation is over."
"He's fifteen years older than you."
"So?" Her good mood was vanishing quickly.
"He's nearly our parents' age."
"And your point is?"
"How can you expect to have a normal relationship with him?"
Paris took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to articulate her response. "Austin," she said slowly, as if she were speaking to a child. "You don't understand. When I'm with Trent, I'm not a freak or a rebel or any of the things that people label me as. I'm just Paris – myself, the good with the bad." She shook her head. "Can you understand that?"
The reasoning hadn't gotten through the Austin – that much was obvious. He didn't want to see her side – he just saw her dating an older man for no reason. Austin just shook his head and left the apartment. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
Trent came in a few minutes later with the food. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Austin is being an idiotic ape," she replied. "What kind of food did you bring?"To Be Continued...
Author's Note: I just want to say that Doctor Felix (from Badge) entertains me to no end! He should go to London and get on the cast of CATS. At any rate, thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this piece. It's great to see people coming back every chapter with comments and such. So, to everyone who reviewed last chapter (or have reviewed since the last update) - alexis, BloomingViolets, Funky In Fishnet, garnetred, Giannola, Moi, the real vampire and Trey Miller - thank you so much! This thing wouldn't be going on without you!
With that said, I'm also up for some awards at Guardians of the Earth (I don't know how or why, but it makes me smile!) So, when the voting polls are open (in about two weeks I do believe), head over and vote!