No Regrets

Disclaimer: ...does it look like I own PR? I just like playing with the characters!

By: Bunny-chan
Author's Notes
Blah, blah, blah, yeah, yeah, work on other fics first, but hey, at least this is a one-shot, no really, it is, there isn't going to be anymore...seriously! I wrote this super early in the morning, so I apologize if there are any grammar errors, I'll probably go back later and fix any, at least if it's something glaringly obvious. Also, sorry if Bridge is OOC, I just wanted to tinker around with him, see what he would be like if he got pushed over the edge, and I like the thought that he can transfer his thoughts to other people's minds, hee. And I suppose this takes place sometime late in the series, I guess...This is my first foray into the PR fandom, in terms of writing, anyway, so I was a bit nervous to post this, and I hope y'all like it!
Bridge watched the steady rise and fall of Z's chest, the incessant beeping of her heart monitor echoing in his ears, his eyes never leaving her form. Maybe it had been stupid to come back just after drinking, he had never been good at holding his liquor, but he couldn't stay away from her. He was, however, good at hiding his emotions, which is where all the babbling came from, and maybe that's why Cruger didn't call him on his drinking, knowing that this time he couldn't hide anything.

He was just lucky he was getting some alone time with Z, what with Jack having been in the infirmary since the minute she had arrived, which had been twelve hours ago, and he had only left because Cruger pulled rank on him. It didn't make sense, how this could happen, sure, they got injured plenty of times, it came with the job, but not by a fellow human, never by that. What also didn't make sense was the rage Bridge felt, he wanted to strangle the man who did this to Z, who did it for no reason, on her day off no less.

He took her limp, cold hand in his, squeezing it tightly, and made a whispered promise he was sure she didn't hear, as he stood up and left, bitterness and rage burning in his stomach as clear as the liquor he had been drinking.

The shaggy haired blonde man breathed a sigh relief as he entered his run-down apartment. He had honestly didn't think he would escape, SPD was ruthless when it came to one of their own. There was no way they could have figured out who he was, at least not this soon, he was certain of it, but he had gotten paranoid anyway and refused to go home until he was sure it was safe. There hadn't really been a reason to shoot the SPD Yellow Ranger, other than the fact that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, he didn't feel any guilt for it though, if it wasn't for them, he wouldn't have had to resort to robbery in the first place.

Muttering under his breath, he rummaged through one of his drawers, looking for his needle, he was lucky to have found some coke, and for so cheap too. Grinning in triumph, he held up the needle, turning around to grab his baggie, and he gaped in surprise, needle clattering to the dirty floor. Leaning leisurely against his doorway was the SPD Green Ranger, looking a mixture of bored, angry, bitter and tired, all at once.

His eyes automatically looked for an escape route, there were only two, the fire escape, and the door being blocked, and so he booked it for the window. Before his fingers could even touch the windowsill, he was thrown roughly against the wall, "Where do you think you're going?" The brunette questioned with a grin. He didn't even get a chance to answer, before a well placed punch to his jugular had him on the floor, rasping in pain, as he clutched his throat.

Bridge knelt next to him, normally cheerful blue eyes a stormy shade of gray, as he stared down at the man, shaking his head lightly. This was the piece of shit that had shot Z, that had put her in a coma for God knows how long, whatever he got, he deserved, and Bridge refused to regret anything he was about to do. The blonde's red-shot, green eyes widened in fear, as he continued clutching his throat, trying desperately to plead for forgiveness, but even if he had been able to, there was no way in hell he was being forgiven.

His fingers twitched in front of him, not used to being free from the containment of leather gloves, except for those precious moments when he was alone. He closed his eyes, and raised his hands to his temples, as the man on the ground stared in confusion, and fear. He had never done this before, never knew he could, never wanted to know if he could, but he could do this, he needed to do this, for Z. Before the blonde could even blink, Bridge's fingers were pressed painfully onto his own temples, and his hands fell away from his throat, images assaulting his mind.

Blood, fire, ash, smoke, charred flesh, bodies, screams of pain, wails of horror, destruction, terror. It all flowed from Bridge into him, memories that weren't his, could never be his, things he had gleaned from accidental touching without his gloves, memories passed on from generation, through generation, made all the more clear in the eccentric man's mind, images he never wished for, nor deserved, this man, on the other hand, deserved every last bit of pain.

He sat back on his haunches as the assault began to take effect, the blonde's raspy screams of pain were like music to his ears, as he clawed at his face, and skull, trying to rid himself of the horror, blood dripping from gashes in his forehead and into his eyes, and when that obviously didn't work, he began slamming his head against the wooden floor, and Bridge almost burst out laughing. Blood fell to the floor in a steady pace, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the poor bastard killed himself, but he had always been more patient than most people, he could wait if he had to.

Z smiled weakly at the happy faces around her, her side blissfully numb from the medication, and she didn't even mind the headache she had, at least she was awake, at least she wasn't dead. But there was a face missing, "Guys, where's Bridge?" she questioned softly, wincing at the pain in her throat from not having spoken in quite awhile.

Before anyone could answer, he entered the room, and his eyes lit up, as he rushed to Z's side, "You're okay." he stated, grasping her hand.

She was startled at feeling his hand, his hand without the cold leather, but...something was different, and she couldn't stop the tears from filling her brown eyes, "Bridge...what did you do?"