Back at the clock tower, Christi was laying on a cot in the office, her wounds bandaged and her burns treated. Trip sat beside her and held her hand, as he desperately searched her face for signs of life. In his seventeen years of life, he had never felt like any more of a failure. He remembered what his parents had said two years ago, when he was still on Xybria. He was arranged to marry a girl he didn't even know. Trip told his parents that he wasn't going to marry anyone he didn't love. They told him that their kind didn't marry for love, and that he was weak for believing in such a fickle concept. Then they sent him to the Time Force Academy to straighten him out. Trip's parents thought he was worthless, and as far as he knew, they were right. Trip wished he had just done what his parents had told him, and gotten married. That way, he would have never been sent to the Time Force Academy, never would have became a Ranger, never would have fired that shot . . . . If it wasn't for him, Christi wouldn't have been potentially killed. Trip's eyes welled up with tears and he squeezed Christi's limp hand, hoping she would live.

At around midnight, Katie came into the office to see how Trip and Christi were doing.

"Trip, are you coming to bed?" She asked. He shook his head.

"Not until I know she's all right." Trip said. His voice was rough.

"Hang in there, Trip. She'll be okay." Katie reassured him.

Trip got up to give Katie a hug. "Good night, Katie." He whispered to her.

"Good night." She left and closed the door behind her.

A few minutes later, Jen came into the office. "Trip, you need to go to bed. She's gonna be alright for the night," she said.

"I have to make sure she wakes up," Trip said.

Jen sighed. "Okay. But if you shirk your jobs tomorrow, I'll kill you."

"Okay." Trip said agreeably.

Lucas was next to pay Trip a visit. "Trip, are you coming to bed?" Lucas asked.

Trip shook his head. "Not yet."

He sighed. "Fine. Just don't make any noise." He went back to his room.

A little later Wes came in. He had a beer bottle in his hand, and had obviously been drinking substantially.

"Way to fucking go, Trip." Wes mumbled. "You find the one girl who's dumb enough to date you, and you fucking shoot her."

Tears began afresh in Trip's eyes. Wes was right, he figured. He deserved to have Wes say that, inebriated or not.

"She's going to live," Trip insisted. He didn't know who he was trying to convince.

"Whatever. Just don't shirk your jobs tomorrow, because if you do, Jen will kill you. And my name's on the lease, so if anyone gets killed here, I'm liable."

Trip nodded, and Wes left. Trip held Christi's hand with both his hands. Suddenly, he heard a weird series of beeps. Trip went over to the computer to find that the DNA scan had a confirmed match. The screen read 'Christi Jackson.' There was no photo, no health information, nothing. She didn't exist in this time, that much was certain. Why is there a name if she didn't exist? he wondered. Still, it didn't really do him any good anyway. He already knew who the Black Ranger was. He sighed and laid his head on the edge of her bed and closed his eyes. After a while, Trip drifted into a light sleep. He had tortured dreams, and in them, he watched the moment he shot Christi, over and over. No matter how hard he tried to hold back, no matter how hard he fought, something forced his finger to squeeze the trigger. Then after he saw Christi scream and fall to the ground, demorphed, it started over.

"Christi . . ." he cried faintly.

But there was nothing he could do.