Of Anime, Poetry and Falling in Love: Mack and Rose
Disclaimer: For the love of our dearly departed Zordon, NO!!!!!
Challenge: Guilt
Timeframe: Somewhere after Kick into Overdrive. Sequel to Scars.
Summary: She still felt incredibly guilty.
It happened every single night, ever since that particular battle with Moltor. Rose came into his room, finding some excuse to be there, settled herself on his bed, ad proceeded to talk about with him about everything under the sun. He didn't mind this- a beautiful girl sitting on hid bed every night? He was a teenage guy after all- but he did know the reason for Rose's nightly visits- she felt incredibly guilty about what Moltor's sword had done to him. Mack had long since given up trying to convince his pink ranger that the accident hadn't been her fault.
He'd seen how if affected her when the Overdrive rangers were out fighting, especially when it was Moltor. She seemed determined not to let him get hurt again, especially if the blow had been intended for her. It was scary for him to watch her practically throw herself in his path, trying to keep him safe. He always wanted to mention this to her, but he knew the stubborn pink ranger wouldn't listen to a word he said about maybe toning it down a notch. She'd insist that she was just fine and not to worry about her.
And then sometimes she would catch him without a shirt on and she'd see the barely visible scar and her eyes would fill with tears. "Oh Mack," she always whispered, barely audible at all. "Oh Mack." He still tried to tell her that it wasn't as bad as it looked that in their line of work it was inevitable they'd all end up with a few bumps and bruises.
She never looked quite convinced, but she always dropped the subject and continued on with whatever it was she wanted to talk about. Most times she stayed until her eyelids were drooping.
And then, always, every single night, came her hug. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she possibly could, resting her head against his chest. He always held her back, trying to convey that as long as she was in the shelter of his arms that nothing could ever hurt her. She always pulled away first to plant a kiss on his cheek. She would whisper good night to her hero, her knight in shining red armor, and then Rose would be gone, guilt still in her eyes.