A/N: Thank God for friends with computers! I managed to jot this down while on duty in the middle of the night with nothing else to do and a friend's computer in my lap, hehe, hope you enjoy!

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It was impossible. Of that he was certain. Time Force had asked a lot of him throughout his years of service, and each time he had willingly done his part, made his decisions, gone into battle for them; but how could they ask him to do this? He sat on the edge of his cot, his head buried in his hands as his mind raced in every direction, whirling around so that he felt the throbbing in his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the pain out. He lay down on his back, stretching his legs out in front of him and folding his hands on his stomach, listening to the clock ticking away next to him, counting down the minutes till he would have to make his decision.

"Do not think for one second, Commander, that you are not expendable."

He winced as General Horner's words rang clear again, a memory burned into his mind from only a few hours ago, when he had been called to the briefing room along with the other officers . . .

"Today, we received a transmission from a scout party sent out a week ago . . . the man calling in was Ensign Jason Eveland, the sole survivor of the group. He explained they had been ambushed upon entering a cave---"

He had gone on to explain the situation thoroughly: How it was impossible for the team to return fire with enough power without risking fratricide, the cave was too narrow. There was no way they could advance. And no way for them to escape. One by one they had been cut down, but young Eveland had managed to get out, find cover long enough to send his message back.

"No word from him in the past two hours. He is assumed KIA."

Alex shook his head where he lay, remembering the details of the young ensign he had looked up shortly after returning from the meeting: Scarcely 19-years-old, fresh out of the Academy from an early graduation. There was no hope that he would be found alive, all alone in the middle of hostile territory, with no backup, most likely badly wounded . . .

"We believe they may have uncovered Frax's secret installation, where he's planning, where he's been hiding . . . it is unfortunate this was discovered by them. They weren't prepared."

And then he had turned to Alex and asked the unquestionable: "Commander, I want a recon of the area. You have the best officers at your disposable, it's time you put it to use."

He stood with alarm. "You can't be serious, sir," he stated, "after a slaughter like that?"

"We know now," Horner said, "we can have backup ready, for evacuation if necessary. But I do not want to send a full force in there, we don't know what wer'e up against."

"No, we don't. So how can you expect me to send my officers in there?"

"I told you, we'll have backup ready."

Alex clenched his fists as he sat up again, swinging his legs to one side of his bed and placing his feet firmly on the floor again, trying to ease the trembling of his hands as he stared down; in only fifteen minutes he would face his team and announce his decision, which two he would send, completely out-manned and out-gunned. He had tried, God had had tried to convince the general not to do it . . .

"I won't do it, sir. I will not sign the death certificates of my own officers! . . . Again." Fresh memories of Trip's death and burial assaulted him, arriving at the young man's parents' doorstep to give them the news: "Your only son is dead."

"You will obey me!" Horner snapped, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "You are a Time Force officer! This is your job!"

"Sir," Lt. Commander Goddard spoke up, "it is my opinion the commander is too---" he exchanged glares with Alex "---personally involved in this mission. He was engaged to one of his officers at a time."

"That has nothing to do with my decision," Alex insisted, "I wouldn't send anyone into a situation like this!" He faced Horner again. "You know me, sir, you have since I was a cadet. I've never let my emotions get in the way of getting the job done!" I've only let my job get in the way of other things. "Yes, my teammates are also my friends. But that doesn't matter. This is a suicide mission."

"Drake," Horner's voice was dangerously low, "I will not tolerate this rebellion of yours. You can either choose two of your team to send, or I will choose someone to replace you. And you will be taken off this mission completely." He took a step forward, he and Alex were face-to-face, neither one backing down. "Do not think for one second, Commander, that you are not expendable."

Alex cursed his own weakness, for at that moment he had relented, he had given up: "Fine. I'll make my decision my nineteen hundred hours." There was no point in arguing with a man like Horner, he would only succeed in getting himself busted down in the ranks, and taken away from his team---at least this way, they could be together. He glanced at the clock and grimaced: 18:54. Goddamnit . . . he lowered his head to his hands again, running his fingers through his hair briefly before forcing himself to stand and walk out of his room into the hallway, letting out a frustrated oath and nearly slamming his shaking, clenched fist into the wall---

---two young ensigns stared at him in open shock from only a few feet away, they had been talking excitedly about something, but now were silent as he stared them down. "You'll understand someday," he muttered, brushing by them and continuing.

Katie has the strength, the endurance . . . she could last longer if backup couldn't arrive in time.

But Lucas always excelled at recon, he's sneaky in that way, he could avoid being detected.

Wes is the Red Ranger, he has the most power to support him . . . the battalizer, combined with the other new enhancements.

But none of them had been through the rigors of training, the harsh ordeals, the very life of a Special Forces officer---and this was just the sort of mission that kind of officer would be accustomed to, trained to endure. There's only one like that. But can I do it? Can I send the woman I love into a place like that . . . to her death, once again.

Even as the words came to his mind, he entered the room to find his team assembled, waiting for him with determined yet anxious expressions on their faces, showing no signs of fear . . . they trust me, he realized, they finally trust me and now I'm going to disappoint them again. He cleared his throat, and---as steadily as he could---explained the situation, watching their faces for their reactions, but they kept them perfectly hidden; when he finished, to his surprise, Wes spoke first:

"Well, it's about that time, isn't it? Have you decided yet?"

Have I? Summoning all the discipline and courage he had, he found his voice: "Yes. It wasn't easy . . . but I know the two of you that work best together, and have the best skills. I know you can do it." He swallowed. "Wes and Jen."

Silence fell.

Alex's eyes moved over and locked with Wes' for a moment, but the current Red Ranger only nodded his acceptance without a word, prompting the former to go on to Jen: She stood still, her face impassive for a moment, before it finally softened into a small smile. It was all he could take. He spun around and retreated into the hallway once again, bracing himself against the wall; a moment later, he felt her arms around his waist and her cheek on the back of his shoulder.

"You made the right decision, Alex."

I hope so. "I'm trusting you, Jennifer," he whispered, not facing her.

"I know you are," she said, softly, "I'll get the job done. You can count on it."

"No." Now he did turn, grabbing her shoulders gently but firmly. "Not about that." At her confused stare, he murmured: "I'm trusting you to take care of yourself, and come back to me. I need you, Jennifer."

For a second, she seemed unable to find the words to speak, then she pressed her lips to his forehead comfortingly: "I'll come back, Alex. I promise."

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"What the hell, Wes? I thought you were just going there so they could morph and get all their 'cool new shit'."

Wes chuckled at his partner's tone, always so cynical. "I was only going to stay a little while," he said, "but when we lost Trip, I decided to stay. They need help."

"Fantastic," the co-leader of the Silver Guardians' voice dripped with sarcasm. "Just don't run off and get yourself killed . . . I'd hate to have to deal with these wusses you trained alone."

"I know, I know," Wes laughed, "you're worried."

"Shut up. I'm not worried."

"Okay, fine."

"But I guaran-goddamn-tee you that I'll kick your ass if you come back in more than one piece!"

"I believe you." Wes glanced back at the door, where Jen stood, politely avoiding their conversation. "Look, I gotta get going. We're about to head out." He pressed his lips together. "Tell Dad---"

"I know what to tell your dad," Eric snapped, "but I'm not going to, because you are as soon as you get your happy ass back here."

"Yeah," Wes said, quietly, "take care, Eric."

"You too, Wes."

With those final words, Wes ended communication with him and turned around to face his partner: "That settles that, I guess. You ready to head out? I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to getting this over with."

"Me, too," Jen admitted, "let's double-check equipment though, they're still preparing the ship." She strode forward, her hands outstretched and reaching for his belt in a mechanical manner, adjusting the blaster attached to his hip; Wes' throat tightened, she was so close to him, but so far beyond his reach . . . "You nervous?"

"No," she replied, "are you?"

"Naw . . . I've gotten over my nerves." With a smile, he remembered an incident years earlier in which he and Jen were partnered, and he had been nervous. That was the day Jen finally opened up to him about her past, about her insecurities, about Alex . . .

"You're all set," Jen announced, "now check me over---" she smiled "---even I miss something every now and then."

"But rarely, right?" Wes winked at her playfully, studying her uniform with admiration, for someone so small in stature, she managed to look so intimidating; she wore a reddish-colored uniform, like his own, to blend in with the Mars desert region they would be going into. Her hair was pulled back severely from her face, tight in a knot at the bottom of her head. She wore three blasters around her thick belt, a knife attached to her mid-thigh and another on her upper arm, she was---without a doubt---a soldier ready for war. "Alex mentioned you were Special Ops for a year," he commented.

"Still am," she replied, "I just recruited the help of some old friends for this."

"Must be exciting."

"It is."

"Ship is ready for departure," a voice came over the intercom, "crew report to the docking bay ASAP."

Jen flashed him a confident grin. "Let's get this show on the road," she said, instinctively touching one of her blasters as she led the way out of the door and into the bay; Wes only half-listened to the young man who emerged from the ship and gave Jen instructions on what to do if the auto-pilot failed, instead he stood quietly and stared into the wonder of space that was outside the viewing screen on the ship they had boarded hours earlier. The one thing that has been, is, and always will be . . . space will never change. Somehow, it was comforting to think of the same moon and stars he had grown up with in a different millenia, shining on him at that moment.

"Wes!" Jen's voice beckoned him from inside the tiny spacecraft, "let's go."

He nodded sharply, hurrying inside and slamming the door shut even as the engine started and the bay hatch opened up to allow them through, he took his seat directly next to Jen, strapping in and bracing himself; he stared in awe at the sight that awaited him outside the doors, the vastness and loneliness of space, the red plant in front of them.

"Hold on," Jen said, "the ride'll get a little bumpy as we enter."

Indeed it did. The ship creaked and rocked violently as it sped toward the ground at what seemed like an impossible speed, Jen leaned over the control board to help control the landing; it seemed like an eternity that they hovered high above the rocky cliffs below, before at last Jen managed to lower them down and safely land in the tiny, secluded spot.

"We're about twenty kilometers from the cave where the party was ambushed," Jen said, softly, "we'll have to hike there."

"That's all right. I like a refreshing walk." He tried to keep his tone light, but couldn't suppress his shudder when they stepped outside and faced the harsh wind that whipped the grinding sand into their faces. "Yep . . . this is gonna suck."

Jen laughed light-heartedly, snatching her weapon from her hip and holding it at the ready as the proceeded along the edge of the cliff to remain undetected, as quietly as possible, she lifted her morpher: "Lucas, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you, Jen---" Lucas' tiny image appeared "---are you all right?"

"We're fine," Jen assured him, "just making sure we have a connection. Standby."

"We're ready whenever you are."

Jen clasped her hand over his image, shutting it off; she exchanged glances with Wes, and the two of them set off.

TWO HOURS LATER

Jen slumped against the rock and reached around to grab the hose that hung down her back, sticking it in her mouth and enjoying the cool water that ran down her throat when she sipped at it; across from her, Wes crouched around another rock and looked up at the steep cliff towering over the both of them, he ran the back of his hand over his face, now covered in dust.

"I don't see anything," he rasped, his voice hoarse.

"Good. Now c'mere and sit down." Jen grabbed his arm. "You need to drink something."

"Yeah, I guess so." He plopped down next to her even as she rose to stand guard for the both of them, pulling the rifle she carried across her back around to her front and holding it snuggly against her shoulder, resting the side of the barrel against the rocks. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep the sand from getting into her mouth, but there was no use, she could feel it grinding between her teeth already; her eyes stung so bad she had to blink and look away after only a few moments, cursing.

"You okay?" Wes gasped, out of breath from taking a long sip of water.

"Yeah, fine. Don't drink that water so fast, you'll get sick." Even to herself, she had to admit her tone was maternal. "You feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."

"It's like a hundred forty degrees!"

Jen laughed. "Try about forty degrees below that," she countered, "it's a pretty cool day, actually. We got lucky."

"Must be this rabbit's foot I carry with me," Wes said, teasingly, patting his pocket.

"Must be," Jen said, dryly.

They were silent for a few moments, then Jen let down her guard and leaned against the rock, allowing herself to relax slightly. "So," she said, casually, "you seemed to kind of like that Stephanie girl we met. Where'd she come from? You probably mentioned it, but I forgot."

"She's working with my dad," Wes explained, "on what, I'm not exactly sure. She seems nice." He shrugged. "We didn't exactly talk before you all came in, not that I was disappointed to see you! That was probably one of the best moments I've had, seeing you all again."

"We were excited, too," Jen said, "as soon as we found out you were coming." She pushed thoughts of the fight it had caused between her and Alex away. "We've really missed you. Having the whole team together."

"I know how you feel," Wes said, "every year I go back to that beach . . . Eric always rolled his eyes at me." He smiled, a little wistfulness behind his clear blue eyes. "But I don't think Eric's ever been in love, either."

Jen nodded understandingly, squatting down so she was eye-level with him, reaching out to touch his chin with her finger and forcing him to look at her; he looked confused, undoubtedly noticing the way her lips were trembling. "Wes . . . " she swallowed, "I love you. I really do. And I always will, Alex knows this, we already talked." Her finger moved to his cheek, and she stroked it gently. "Kiss me."

He blinked. "What?"

"Just once . . . because we never got the chance to before." She balanced herself against the cliff wall, slipping her hand behind Wes' neck and holding him tightly so their lips met; she closed her eyes, not knowing whether he was doing the same, but feeling his body respond to her aggressiveness. His tongue forced it's way past her lips and into her mouth, she moaned softly, her fingers curling through his hair . . . and it was then she utter a single breathless word, too low for him to hear:

"Alex . . . "

She pulled back to see Wes staring at her an expression she could identify, her own heart was racing, her palms were sweaty . . . not from the heat, she realized. It wasn't Wes I saw when we kissed . . . it was Alex. She smiled slowly, then whispered: "That wasn't . . . what I was expecting. And something tells me not for you, either."

"No," he admitted, "I-I didn't . . . well . . . " he flushed, awkwardly.

"Wes," Jen scolded, lightly, "tell me."

He struggled for a moment, then finally spoke: "I wasn't thinking about kissing you. It's stupid . . . I hardly know her, but I saw Stephanie in my mind. Not you."

Jen smiled widely now, her eyes sparkling, prompting Wes to join in her smile. "Wes, that's the best news I've heard in awhile," she said, half-laughing, "because I wasn't seeing you, either."

And now I know for sure.

TBC