Disclaimer: I do not own Adam or any of the Rangers in this fanfic. They are the properties of Saban. Any and all original characters, however, belong to me.

Author's Note: I apologize for not updating sooner, but Real Life has a tendency to get in the way of things. I hope that my next chapter will not take as long as this one did to make it up here. I thank all of you for your patience and those who have reviewed and commented. I hope you will enjoy the rest of the fanfic.

Chapter Two
Halloween

[~ How did I get here? How the hell? ~]

December 12th, 2008
Angel Grove, California
Adam

My neck is stiff. I feel as though I've slept for two days and nights without a pillow. Actually, I feel like I really have slept that long. I know I've been known to waste away a Sunday afternoon on occasion, but I've never slept it away…

I open my eyes, blinking to rid the drowsiness. I stretch and sit up. I'm staring at the cream coloured walls and cedar pillars of my dojo and I am sitting on a mat in the far corner. It's not uncommon for me to retreat to a corner for a short nap during breaks, but my students are usually sitting in scattered groups of three or four talking and sharing their snacks, and I am usually awoken by Riley, Deana or one of the students. Right now, however, the dojo is empty and the main hall lights are off.

A sliver of light shines under the door heading to the office. Someone is still here. I get to my feet, rubbing my neck trying fruitlessly to get rid of the stiffness. I roll my shoulders in hopes of alleviating the ache. No avail.

I walk over to the door and try the doorknob. It turns and swings open with a soft squeak.

Riley turns around from the photocopier. Dark circles hang under his green eyes and he looks like he hasn't been sleeping properly in a while. His hair is pulled into a lose ponytail instead of the usual tight blonde braid that falls to his mid-back. Renegade strands are tucked behind his ears. But it's not his tired, unkempt appearance that troubles me the most…

His eyes are staring past me in utter confusion. It's like he can't see me.

"Hello?" Riley calls cautiously. He steps away from the photocopier. I move out of his way as he goes to the office door. "Is someone there?"

"Yes," I answer, "me, Adam." I move towards him. "Riley." He doesn't turn. "Riley? What's going on? Why aren't you answering me? Riley!"

Riley closes the office door, shaking his head slowly. He walks over to his desk and sits down heavily. He rests his forehead against his hand and for a six-foot-two largely built man, he seems incredibly small and meek. He adjusts the papers piled haphazardly on his desk. More piles sit beneath the one he just moved. Riley's desk has always been a little messy – a mass of organized chaos as he calls it –, but never like this. It's almost like he could care less about the cleanliness of his workstation.

He puts the papers in a corner and looks over at my desk. Contrary to Riley's, my desk is usually kept clean, but this… there is nothing on my desk, nothing, except the couple of pictures of the opening of the dojo. Even the small glass frog Kim had given me three Christmases ago is gone. My desk has been cleaned, and not by me. Surely I would remember if I did. Did Deana clean it this morning? But why would she? My desk isn't her responsibility… What the heck is going on here?

"Riley?" My voice wavers. "C'mon, answer me. Ril—"

"How did you do it Adam?" Riley whispers. "How did you manage all these late nights? How the hell did you run this place by yourself?"

Patience and a lot of hard work. But why is Riley working the late nights? He is always the first to leave so he can pick up his nephew from school. Staying late is my job. And speaking of me, why is Riley referring to me in the past tense? I'm still here and this is still my dojo. I don't understand…

I lean over the end of Riley's cluttered desk and wave my hand in front of his face. He doesn't so much as blink.

"Riley!" I call.

Nothing.

I lean closer and accidently knock over one of the piles at the corner of his desk.

Riley's head snaps to the papers gone awry on the floor. I start to bend down to gather them, but the wide-eyed confusion on my friend's face stops me.

"What the fuck?" He stares between his desk and the scattered mess on the floor.

I watch as the confused shock melts into utter fatigue, and he runs his hands over his face. "I think I need to call it a night," he mutters and gets up from his chair. He quickly gathers the loose papers and drops them carelessly onto the middle of the desk. Then he moves past me, heading for the staff bathroom. I follow him. There's no one else here, so he doesn't bother closing the door.

"Riley," I try again. "Can't you see me? Can't you hear me? What's going on? Answer me!"

But he doesn't. He doesn't even flinch.

He does his business then stops at the sink. He cups his hands and fills them with water. He splashes his face.

I stand behind him and call his name several times. Still nothing. I reach out, intending to clap his shoulder.

Intending to are the key words in that statement.

My hand does not land on his shoulder. It goes through his shoulder. The cold feeling of flesh passing through flesh is creepy, like something out of a movie. Like the one with Patrick Swayze that I watched during a sleepover in my Ranger days; Ghost I think it was called.

I try to touch his shoulder again. And again… and again. Nothing. My hand continues going through Riley's shoulder.

"What the hell?" I feel my heart speed up tenfold and fear flowers in the pit of my stomach. "Riley?... Ri—"

Riley's reflection in the mirror catches my eye. It's not specifically his reflection actually, it's what's next to him. More importantly, what should be next to him. Or who.

I am standing to Riley's left, but where I should be is the wall behind me.

I feel the colour and warmth drain from my face and I suddenly feel nauseous. What the hell is going on? I know I'm standing just behind Riley and I know I'm here and awake… Why don't I have a reflection?

Riley leaves the bathroom, but I stay, staring into the empty mirror. I'm staring straight ahead, but instead of looking at my own brown eyes, I see the hand dryer and paper towel dispenser on the wall behind me. I pull a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser. In the mirror, it looks like the sheet exited the dispenser by itself. I pull another sheet out; it moves on its own.

No wonder Riley had been so confused when I'd opened the office door and knocked the papers off of his desk. But why can't he see me? Why don't I have a reflection? What is going on?

I exit the bathroom and stand in front of Deana's desk, watching Riley gather his things in preparation to leave. He stuffs his clothes haphazardly into his backpack, yawning all the while. I don't think I've ever seen the man this exhausted.

He picks up his bag and makes a beeline for the door. I follow for sake of not being left alone in the dojo. He opens the door, then turns back suddenly, having forgotten something. I go through the door, hoping Riley won't notice it moving. He doesn't.

I shiver against the cool breeze, wrapping my arms around myself. My sweater is thin and doesn't hold back the cold worth a damn. I wrack my brain trying to think of where I can go. I can't go home; I don't have my keys with me. Kim is out of town with Logan on winter vacation… Rocky's taken his family up to the cabin… the only people I know for sure who are in town and not too far away are Riley – and he can't see me – and the Skullovichs. Maybe Skull will see me. It's worth a shot – it's a long walk to his place, but it's worth a shot at any rate.

I start walking in the direction of Skull's neighbourhood, a fifteen minute drive from here. I'm beginning to wish I had my truck, but I know it's in the underground parking lot of my apartment building and I don't have my keys – something I find rather strange I always have my keys on me.

I take in a deep breath – my lungs seem to cringe at the large amount of cool air entering them – and prepare for a long walk.

I walk a bit faster than I normally would and find myself coming upon Skull's street half an hour later. His house, a traditional white-brick tri-level, comes into view shortly after taking the right turn. The front yard leaves a bit to be desired right now, but once Spring comes, Amy will transform it into a beautifully kept garden. The tall spruce tree in the backyard sways in the wind.

I walk up the front porch steps and press the doorbell button. I hear laughter from inside and looking to the driveway, I see Bulk's burgundy SUV sitting there, complete with Laurel's car seat. Amy must have made her Alfredo and Skull needed help eating it. But wouldn't he have invited me too? He always invites me and he knows I love Amy's cooking…

I hear the deadbolt fall back and I brace myself, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. The door opens; Skull is standing in the doorway. His eyes look heavy and he stands as if something were weighing on him. Confusion sets in as he opens the screen door and pokes his head outside.

"Hello?" he asks. He sounds tired as hell.

"Skull," I call, "it's me; it's Adam."

The man doesn't acknowledge my presence; I don't think he's heard my voice. He turns his gaze in my direction, but, like Riley, his eyes look past me rather than at me.

I reach out to touch him, but again like with Riley, my hand travels through his shoulder. What the hell is going on? What's wrong with me?

"Who is it, honey?" Amy comes up behind her husband.

"Nobody," Skull answers, confusion laden in his voice. "No one's there."

Amy does what Skull did a moment ago – she doesn't see me either when she sticks her head out the door. "Strange…"

"No kidding," Skull sighs.

"You can say that again," I mutter.

"C'mon Eugene," Bulk hollers, "before my daughter decides to try some of your plate. She doesn't have Adam to steal from."

Every time Skull invites Bulk, Jane and I for dinner, Laurel ends up sitting between Bulk and me, and if I'm not careful, her tiny hands find their way to my plate. Her favourite dish to get into is mashed potatoes, which she eats like it's going out of style, but not before making a mess of herself and, more often than not, my shirts as well. I can't count how many shirts have fallen victim to Laurel's small, food covered hands.

But I'm standing on the front porch. If Skull and Amy could see me, Laurel could steal all she wants from me. No matter how hungry I am, I can never finish the portions Amy dishes me.

Skull and Amy both turn their gazes downwards when Bulk mentions my name. It's like Bulk's just said something they don't wish to hear.

"I wish he was, though," Skull mumbles sadly.

"But I am here!" I cry. "I'm standing right in front of you! Skull! Amy! Why can't you see me?"

Neither are fazed by my outburst.

"I know, Eugene," Amy replies. "C'mon – food's getting cold."

Casting one more confused look over the porch, Skull retreats back into the house, closing the door. The deadbolt clicks forward and I'm left standing outside alone.

Defeated, I sit down on the top step of the porch. I don't understand any of what going on. Riley, Skull, nor Amy can see me despite the fact I've been standing directly in front of them. Why? Why can't they see me? Why can't they hear me? Why can't I touch them? Why do they refer to me in third person as if I'm not here? Have I done something wrong? I'm not perfect, but this is a little much. Did I do something to deserve this? Why is this happening?

In my fourteen years of being a Power Ranger, I've encountered some pretty strange and scary incidents – Goldar's Mirror of Regret, Scorpina, Rito destroying our zords, morphing with a broken morpher and nearly non-existent powers… – but none of them compare to this. I've never been as scared as I am now. Whenever I needed help there was always someone ready and willing to give it – I can't count how many times the Rangers I fought alongside kept me safe – but this time, I am on my own. Nobody can help me; nobody can see me. I've never felt so alone before.

I wrack my brain thinking of where I can go. Jason lives on the other side of town, Billy still lives on Aquitar with Cestria, and the Power Chamber isn't even there anymore, nor do I have my morpher or power coin, which I find very odd and disconcerting. I always carry my morpher and power coin – even when it was damaged, I still carried it. Those items are forever a part of my life; they go with me everywhere.

A couple of teenage boys walk by the house. I call out to them. Neither of them look or give any indication they've heard me. I feel my shoulders slump. What's the point of trying to figure out where to go for help if nobody can see or hear me? A walk across town to Jason's to chance he can see me would more than likely prove fruitless. I guess what I really should be doing is finding a place to spend the night.

But where? What would be open after dark? The industrial area is too far away and the school has been closed for hours. I'm beginning to regret leaving the dojo.

My attention falls on the Skullovich's two car garage. Maybe if I'm lucky, the door at the side of the garage is unlocked – Skull has a tendency to forget to lock it.

I stand up and make a beeline for the garage's side door. Trying the knob, I find it unlocked. Yes! I slowly push the door open, praying the hinges don't squeak. They don't, and I step inside, quietly closing the door behind me. I am more than grateful for what warmth the garage offers.

I zero in on the lazy boy recliner in the corner. It reminds me of the recliner in the TV show, Frasier – it looks like the one belonging to the father, only Skull's is covered in beer and coffee stains and smells a bit like old beer, car exhaust and Febreeze. One half of the garage holds their minivan while the other is what Skull likes to call his rejuvenation area. It's where he goes when he needs some private time and where many of his "boys only" afternoons are held. The recliner is his throne and no other man dares to sit in it. Skull won't do anything more than order us out of it, but it's his domain and his domain only. Tonight, however, that recliner is mine. I sit in it and pull the lever back; the chair reclines.

I lay there staring at the ceiling. The light from the motion light next to the side door shines through the window. A raccoon must have walked by after I came inside; surely I'd remember tripping the light if I had. The light goes out, shrouding the garage in next to complete darkness.

I wrap my right hand around my left wrist. I wish I had my communicator so I could teleport somewhere warmer than Skull's garage. I wish Zordon were still alive; he'd know what to do. But would he be able to see me or would I be in the same situation I'm in now? I wonder what he would do about what's happening to me. I miss him.

I remember the day I heard about his capture. I'd wished I hadn't given my Turbo Powers to Carlos and my original morpher had worked properly. I had tried to aid in the search for him despite my lack of powers. Looking back, I find it interesting how my work as a Power Ranger continues to follow me. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger. I wish I had my communicator… I wish I hadn't left the dojo… I wish I had help.

A draft comes in from underneath the main garage door; I shiver against it, folding my arms around myself. Looking out the window, I look at what little I can see of the night sky.

Despite being a spiritual person, it's not often that I break down and pray. But tonight, I need to and I hope someone is listening.

"I need help," I speak quietly. My voice seems loud in the stillness. "I don't understand what's going on. Why can't anyone see, hear or feel me? Why don't I have a reflection? Why are my friends talking about me like I'm not here? I don't know what to do… What have I done? Have I done something to deserve this? Why is this happening?" I sigh. I'm at a loss of what to do. "Help me? Please? I need help."

It's not long before I feel sleep begin to overtake me. Despite feeling like I've slept for several days, I've been a bit tired all evening. I guess the stress of what's been going on is catching up.

Curling up in the recliner, I close my eyes, allowing sleep to take me where it wills.