Firstly, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! Especially to the anonymous reviewer, to whom I was unable to send a personal reply, and to gaap237 because the site wouldn't let me PM you. So...thanks everyone! I was genuinely surprised at the positive response.

But more importantly, my apologies for the belated update! I'm working full time over the summer until uni starts up again, so I hardly have any time to spare for hobbies. Thank you for being so patient with me. :)

And here, for your personal reading pleasure, is chapter two. Enjoy!

"Is he asleep?"

Sky jerked upright from his slumped position in the chair, his neck aching at the sudden motion. He squinted towards the open infirmary doors, weary eyes unaccustomed to the light after sitting for so long in the blue-tinged semidarkness. Recognising the slim figure silhouetted in the bright doorway, he sank back against the unyielding plastic chair and dragged a hand down his face.

"Yeah. The drugs knocked him out pretty fast; he hasn't even twitched." His gaze darted back towards his snoozing friend as though to reassure himself that nothing had changed during the five seconds that his eyes had been averted. "I suppose that's for the best."

Kat Manx quietly kicked off her heels at the door, padding silently across the bay so as not to disturb her slumbering patient. She spared a cursory glance at the monitors above Bridge's bed, nodding when the readings met with her approval, before dropping her gaze to the slight form beneath the white sheets. A tender look softened her professional mask as she bent down to carefully straighten the covers, patting out the creases with practised ease. Sky found himself fighting a smile. It was no secret that the lab-technician-come-doctor held a certain maternal fondness for the green ranger, but he'd never seen her display it quite so...openly. Perhaps his team hadn't been the only ones left shaken by the evening's events.

"Syd told me what happened out there," she said, as though reading his mind. He turned to look at her and found a pair of amber eyes regarding him solemnly. "Sounds like you had a rough time of it."

Sky nodded stiffly, gaze shifting to study the mottled red-blue marks that marred his roommate's throat. "You could say that."

A warm hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "He's going to be fine, Sky. A couple of days' rest and he'll back to his old self."

She bent down so that they were at eye level and he resisted the urge to look away. Kat might have retained an essentially youthful appearance despite her advanced age, but there was something strikingly ancient about her gaze that made him feel comparatively young and stupid.

"Kat..."

"There was nothing you could have done." The hand squeezed again, a little more insistently. Her eyes hardened. "Besides, Bridge wasn't the only one who came away with bruises."

His aching back throbbed at the reminder. Barely hiding a wince, he shifted in his seat, flicking absently at a strand of fluff on his trouser leg simply because it gave his hands something to do. I weary sigh escaped him before he could reel it in, and his stinging eyes slid closed. "He beat the crap out of us, Doc. One of him, five of us. And he wasn't even one of Gruumm's goons. He shouldn't have-"

"Sky." Her voice was soft, gentle, but it held a note of finality that dared him to contend with her. "He was a trained assassin. And a Vissonian at that."

"Yeah, but-"

"You all made it back alive," she insisted. "And the criminal was apprehended." A hand, warm and gentle, settled on the nape of his neck. "Cruger's proud of what you did today. We know how much you hate to use it."

Pain. A band tightening across his forehead as he narrows his eyes, focusing, sculpting the energy into a net, his right hand extended and trembling as the force field weaves itself about the alien's muscular torso, pinning the Vissonian's arms to his sides. He hears Jack yelling, watches him toss something at Syd, and in a flash of blond curls she's somersaulting over their heads to land a solid blow to the back of the assassin's blue-skinned neck. His shield breaks suddenly, sending him to his knees, but there's another, louder thud as a body hits the floor and he knows the pain is worthwhile.

Sky swallowed heavily, closing his eyes against the memory.

"So today we beat him," he said bitterly. "But what about next time? Or the time after that? The blow was pure luck." He scuffed the toe of his boot against a black mark on the floor, frowning again. "What if Grumm catches wind of all this? What if he starts hiring Vissonians? Next time, we won't all be walking away from a fight like that."

"Then let's hope there isn't a next time," Kat said firmly. Then her expression softened and she lowered her voice. "The Vissonians are a peaceful race. Brox was an unfortunate exception. But it if it makes you feel any better, I'll start upgrading the blasters tonight. You won't be left defenceless a second time."

He caught her wrist as she turned to go. "It can wait 'til morning, Doc. It's late. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Her lips twitched. "Isn't that my line?"

"Maybe. But the suggestion was genuine." He dropped her wrist quickly, clearing his throat as he turned back towards his sleeping companion. "I'll keep an eye on Bridge."

She placed a hand on his shoulder again. "The monitors are alarmed. They'll let you know if anything changes. Why don't you get some rest?" She gestured at the row of empty infirmary beds with a sweep of her arm. "There seems to be plenty of room at the inn."

"No. I'll be all right."

"That wasn't a suggestion, cadet."

Sky had the decency to look contrite. "I will, Doc. Soon." But not just yet.

Kat poked him in the chest, eyes hard but a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You'd better, mister. Oh, and Sky?"

The blue ranger raised an enquiring brow.

"Call Jack. He'll want to know."

Sky blinked, surprised. "Oh, God. It completely slipped my mind."

The Sylvestrian was already standing at the infirmary entrance, slipping effortlessly into her discarded heels. "I'll leave you to it." She tipped her head towards a door on the far side of the room. "The lab should be unlocked." She glanced meaningfully at the occupied bed. "It's soundproofed."

It took him a moment to comprehend the reason behind her statement. When at last the penny dropped, Doctor Manx had long since departed and only the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the sterile air of the medical bay. Sighing, the blue ranger scrubbed a hand across tired, aching eyes and reached for his morpher. Guess it's time to face the music.

o~O~o

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, closing his eyes as he haphazardly tossed the data pad onto his nightstand. Fatigue clung to him like leaden weights, solid and immovable; a bone-deep exhaustion so intense it was almost painful. Damn Cruger and his God-forsaken mission reports. He was pretty sure the memory of his recent battle would still be as vivid and heart-stopping in the morning – this wasn't something he was going to forget about in a hurry – but there was no arguing with the Top Dog when it came to paperwork. Well, screw him. If Cruger wanted a short, cryptic, to-the-point summary of the events that had taken place earlier that evening, fine by him. But he hoped the commander enjoyed decryption puzzles because he hadn't given a rat's ass about the spelling and punctuation.

A knock on the door made him start and he straightened up with a wince, flexing his stiff shoulders. "Come in."

The door slid open to reveal a young, nervous-looking cadet who couldn't have been a day over sixteen. His body seemed to be drowning in the grey uniform. God, what were S.P.D thinking? The academy had enrolled kids before, but apparently Bridge had been an exception to the rules because of his unique circumstances. The minimum enrolment age, according to the S.P.D database, was supposed to be eighteen. There was no way in hell that this sandy-haired munchkin was eighteen.

"How old are you?"

The kid blinked, and Jack realised belatedly that the question wasn't an appropriate first greeting. He opened his mouth to apologise, but the younger cadet beat him to it.

"Um...fourteen, sir." The teenager shifted uncomfortably. "Commander Cruger asked me to come and pick up your mission report?" He sounded uncertain, and gnawed on his lip in a way that made him appear even younger. "Does that sound right?"

Jack leaned across to pluck the data pad from the bedside table, looking the boy up and down. "You working a nightshift, cadet?"

The boy blinked, genuinely surprised, then grinned shyly and shook his head. "No, sir. Well...I am working the nightshift, but I'm not a cadet. I'm just..." He rubbed his arm self-consciously and averted his gaze. "I'm kinda here on work experience. Sort of. I do errands and stuff mostly, and Boom lets me watch his experiments. I'm only working tonight because my dad said I could."

"Your dad?" Jack repeated, leaning forward and holding out the pad invitingly.

"Oh! Yeah, um, my dad's on the security squad. He's the reason I'm allowed to work here at all. Not many kids get the chance, the academy on accepts three applications a year. But Dad showed one of my inventions to Doctor Manx and she said she'd love to work with me until school starts up again after summer. She's neat, isn't she?" He blushed, as though realising what he'd just admitted to, and quickly strode forward to retrieve the mission report. "Sorry, sir. I'll let you sleep."

"Hey, whoa, not so fast," Jack chuckled, smiling in a way he hoped would ease the boy's discomfort. "There's no rush. It's not often I get to see a new face around here." Which was, of course, a blatant lie. He'd only been working at S.P.D for eight months, and there were strangers coming i all the time from one specialist field or another – he was lucky if he knew even half the staff by name. But the kid didn't need to know that. He smiled again, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed. "What's your name?"

The boy clutched the pad in his hands nervously. "Jake Simmons. Sir."

"Simmons?" Jack's eyebrows went up. "You're Artie's kid?"

Jake smiled, shoulders sagging in relief. "Yeah."

What the...

Jack shook his head in disbelief. Arthur Simmons was a six-foot-five bear of a man, Congonise by birth and American by upbringing. He had a good heart and quick mind, but often came across as gruff and intimidating to those who didn't know better. The L-40 blaster he constantly cradled against his chest probably didn't help much. Jack had heard through the grapevine that Artie and his wife were raising a kid, but seriously...Jake? No way. This shy, scrawny Caucasian kid was definitely not the offspring of Ammo Artie. Not without some serious genetic manipulation, and he was pretty sure doing it to this extent was illegal.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Are you sure we're thinking of the same Arthur Simmons?"

The kid laughed shyly. "He's my adoptive father, if you're confused about the whole skin pigmentation issue."

Ah. Now it all made a little more sense. He smiled at the teen. "You'll have to stop on by the ranger lounge sometime; me and the guys'll give you a proper tour of the place. Bet they haven't even let you see the battle zords yet, have they?"

Jake grinned ruefully. "Dad let me visit the vehicle bay on my own, but he said the zord mechanics can get a little tetchy around strangers. He was gonna take me earlier but, well..." He averted his gaze with a small, shelf-conscious shrug. "Then you and the other rangers came back with that Vissonian guy and he had to organise security stuff." He glanced up again, eyes wide. "Not that I mind! 'Cause I know that ranger stuff is, like, way more important."

Sweet Zordon, this kid was adorable. Jack made a mental note to introduce him to Bridge as soon as possible. Jake was practically his double already, they'd be friends in a heartbeat.

"Well, I'm sorry all the same. We'll have to make it up to you later in the week. I'll have a word with your dad next time we run into each other." He glanced down at the pad in Jake's hand. "You should probably get going, bud. Cruger doesn't like to be kept waiting."

A flash of panic crossed the boy's features and he quickly backed up towards the door. "Yeah, good idea. It was nice meetin' you, sir. Thanks!"

And with that, and the soft 'hiss' of the door, he was gone. Jack huffed a soft laugh, shuffling up the bed and easing his aching body against the padded headboard with a heavy sigh. God, he was tired. It had been one hell of day.

Earlier that evening, S.P.D. Headquarters had received an emergency transmission from the ambassador of Vissonia Prime. The blue-skinned Vissonian had informed the command team in grave tones that a dangerous criminal, Brox, had escaped from their high-security prison facility and commandeered a lightspeed shuttle, which had been bound for earth – and, judging by its trajectory, aiming for the S.P.D. complex itself. The base had been put on immediate red alert, with Jack's team morphed and ready beside their respective vehicles and a host of S.P.D's finest fighter pilots moving into a defensive aerial formation. In the end, the alien shuttlecraft had been successfully intercepted and forced to make a crash landing two miles south of its original target. B-squad had arrived on the scene in time to see Brox stumble out of the smoking wreckage, grey prison uniform ripped and muddied in places, but still a formidable sight at over eight feet tall and with biceps as thick as tree trunks.

And the shuttlecraft hadn't been the only thing he'd stolen – Brox had been packing more ammo than half of the S.P.D. security force put together.

Consequently, they'd been hammered. Vissonians were humanoid in build (other than their significant height advantage) but their dark blue skin could absorb concentrated bolts of electricity – a genetic adaption that their species had acquired through exposure to their planet's frequent plasma storms. Consequently, their weapon fire had barely scratched him.

After what had felt like hours of fighting and chasing and more fighting, Sky and Syd had been the ones to strike the finishing blow. All five rangers had demorphed over the course of the battle, their power reserves drained after prolonged attack from the Vissonian weaponry. No longer in ranger form, they'd opted for fighting dirty. Sky had erected a force field around Brox's upper torso to keep his arms pinned while Syd changed the molecular structure of her arm to mimic the quartzite stone that lay scattered about the factory's dock. A solid hit to the nape of Brox's neck had sent him sprawling, and a second blow moments later had apparently knocked him senseless.

"Is he down?" Z demanded, breathing heavily as she regained her feet, Jack's discarded blaster levelled at the fallen alien."Is it over?"

"I don't know." Sky kept his distance as he circled the body slowly, eyes narrowed. "He could be faking it. Stay alert, guys."

Syd glanced nervously towards Jack. "Should I hit him again?"

"No," Jack snapped, with more bite than he'd intended. "Not until we're sure he's still a threat. Needless battery goes against regulation."

"Okay, okay," Syd protested, raising her hands defensively. "I was just asking."

"Geez, Jack." Z was staring at him, blaster still trained on the Vissonian. "Who died and made you Sky?"

Sky shot her an unpleasant look, brushing dirt off his uniform as he bent down to retrieve his blaster. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jack frowned at both of them. "Knock it off, you two. We've got more important things to worry about here."

"Uh...guys?"

Four heads snapped towards the green ranger in perfect unison; it would have been comical had the situation been less serious. Because Bridge was inches away from the guy who'd just beaten the living crap out of them – and on his frickin' knees no less – with his head bent close to the alien's prone form. His eyes were narrowed, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. Jack saw a long, grimy, three-jointed finger twitch in the dust and something cold and painful wrapped around his lungs. He started forward, hand outstretched.

"Bridge, get back!"

"I don't think he's-"

Brox twisted around in a flash, a long-fingered hand curling around the startled man's neck. "Foolish ranger. Nothing can stop-"

There was an almighty thunk and the Vissonian's bald head struck the earth, sending up a cloud of dust. His crushing grip went lax on the green ranger's throat and Bridge pushed the loose fingers away, shuffling backwards a few paces. Breathing heavily and massaging his bruised neck, he stared up at his rescuer. Syd towered over the unconscious alien body, one foot planted either side of his broad chest, her left hand still clenched around the shard of quartzite that had turned her skin to stone. Her eyes were hard, furious even, her lips set in a thin line.

"Enjoy the headache," she purred, flicking stray blond curls over her shoulder as she tossed the rock aside. She studied her hand as it returned to its original molecular structure, lips turning down in a pout. "Rats. I broke a nail."

Jack stared at her, mouth agape, until he recalled the severity of the situation at hand and lowered his gaze to where his teammate sat slumped on the ground. Sky had moved to kneel beside him, one hand gripping the younger man's chin as he inspected the red imprints on his neck.

"Bridge?" Jack stepped over the body and dropped into a crouch beside his injured teammate. "You okay, man?"

The green ranger blinked once, shuddered, and then turned to face the red ranger with a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Jack. Well, sorta fine. Close enough. I mean, my shoulder kinda hurts and I'm sitting on a really pointy rock, but other than that-"

"You're fine," Z concluded, smiling as she finally lowered her weapon. Her gaze shifted to meet Jack's and she gestured at Brox's unconscious form with a slow tilt of her head. "We gonna confine this perp or what?"

"With pleasure."

Jack sighed again, running his fingers lightly over a bruise on his forearm. They had all come away with bumps and scrapes, but nothing serious enough to warrant medical treatment. The handheld medscanner in the Delta Cruiser's first aid kit had quickly confirmed that the marks on Bridge's neck were relatively superficial. Come morning, there would be no physical evidence of the previous day's battle, thanks to their morphers' ability to accelerate their body's normal cell repair functions. Or something along those lines. Bridge had tried to explain the whole process a couple of months back, but the complex terminology had given him a headache.

Speaking of which, he wondered how his younger teammate was faring. Bridge had always been prone to migraines – an unfortunate side-effect of his psychic abilities – and the evening's events would have easily been enough to trigger another episode. Sudden, unwanted skin-on-skin contact was one of the few things that threw the younger man off-balance. Bridge was an empath, which meant that he could sense the dominant emotions in any living being within a certain proximity, but physical contact seemed to significantly amplify the psychic connection between himself and the individual in question. The younger man had once described the experience as walking along in a rainstorm and suddenly being hit by a tidal wave.

Bridge's analogies had always been a little obscure.

He started suddenly as his morpher beeped. Geez, why was he so jumpy this evening? Rolling over with a groan, he fumbled along his bedside table for the device, flipping it open and clearing his throat before answering, "Jack here."

"Hey. Bridge is in the infirmary. Thought I should let you know."

Jack shot upright, the ache in his limbs forgotten. "What? What happened?"

"The usual. Looks like the fight with Brox took more out of him than we'd thought."

"How long's he been out?"

There was a pause. "About an hour and a half."

Jack glared at the morpher. "And you didn't think to call me about this sooner?"

"No. I didn't." Sky's frown was obvious through his tone of voice. "Kinda had more important thing on my mind."

The glare softened into concern. "How bad is it?"

There was another pause.

"Sky?"

The blue ranger's answering sigh crackled over the comm. "I don't know, Jack. It's not looking good. He'll be off his feet for a couple of days at least."

"Damn." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes drifting shut. "Have the nightmares started yet?"

"Doesn't look like it. But who knows what's going on in his subconscious? Brox isn't exactly a favourable character, and that choke hold lasted longer than I would've liked."

"You need me to come down there?"

"No, I've got it covered. Kat's given him the good stuff, he's dead to the world for now. I'll let you know if he has another episode. Can you comm. Cruger and the girls for me?"

Jack nodded, even though Sky couldn't see him. "You got it. Oh, and Sky? If he wakes up swinging, try to duck. Although that last black eye of yours was a thing of beauty."

There was another pause, a low rumble of a growl, then:

"Shut up, Jack."

The red ranger smirked and snapped his morpher shut. Then the smile promptly fell and he reached up to drag a hand down his face, heaving a weary sigh. Things weren't going to be easy for the youngest S.P.D ranger over the next few days. When Brox had grabbed him by the throat, the sudden influx of foreign thoughts and emotions must have been too much for Bridge to handle. So he'd stored them away, subconsciously protecting himself for as long as possible, until they eventually forced themselves to the surface.

Bridge had regretfully admitted that he had no control over the process - it was his power's natural reflex to try and prevent him from harm, so when something threatened to overload his senses his powers would instinctively isolate and contain the surge for as long as possible. When his mind couldn't take the strain anymore, it flipped out, assaulting Bridge with a killer migraine and a barrage of emotions that didn't belong to him.

Which was why the other rangers often ended up sporting bruises after caring for Bridge during one of his 'episodes'. Sometimes he didn't even remember who he was. And after the confusion wore off, there would still be the headaches and nausea to deal with. And the nightmares...man, he didn't envy Sky's position. Bridge would make a troubled roommate for the better part of a fortnight before the effects of this attack would wear off.

Jack sighed again, peeling off his shirt and uniform pants and sliding under the duvet.

Better sleep while I can. Tomorrow's gonna be hard on all of us.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. Chapter 3 should be posted in a week or so.

xxx