Disclaimer: I do not own any characters related to Power Rangers they are owned by Saban/Disney et. al

I do however own the Tanzetti characters and reserve the right to reuse them as I please.

The alarm rang and Marcy Tannon jumped at it. She reached out and pressed the snooze button and buried her face in the pillow. She'd been having the dreams again, too vivid, to real.

It's been ten years, she thought. When will it go away?

But even as she thought it she knew the answer. It doesn't go away. Not in her lifetime. Not ever.

The buzz of the alarm jolted her again and she realized she'd fallen asleep, her face still buried in the pillow. She turned the alarm off and pulled herself away from the bed. Across the room her roommate Sarah was still fast asleep, completely oblivious to the alarm buzz. Marcy envied that, she'd never been a deep sleeper, she was too alert, too aware of the world around her to be lost to the subtleties of unconsciousness.

And yet I still have nightmares.

She dressed quietly in her workout slicks, tank top, and matching windbreaker then slipped quietly from the room. No one else was up at this hour. Her other two roommates, Ashley and Devon didn't have class until nine and usually woke with only enough time to jump in the car and speed to the university.

Marcy was different. She couldn't understand the propensity some people had to sleep the day away. But so far, she was they only one of her friends that found joy in rising at six am to go running.

As she stepped outside the small apartment building, MP3 player in hand the cold air hit her. It had rained the night before and the streets were still damp and misty from the sunrise. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, the simple pleasure making her homesick.

As she let the breath out along with the sad memories and set her music player on her favorite playlist. She did a few warm up stretches then set out on her run.

Three miles around the neighborhood at a medium pace. That was her usual routine. She could do more if she wanted, and sometimes she did, but the three mile mark was more than enough to keep her in shape. When she'd first moved here she had given up on the exercise altogether for awhile, giving in to the popular notion of exercise being only for health nuts and jocks. Then, about two years later she'd been mugged outside a convenience store and nearly been taken down by the attacker. She'd managed to chase him down and return the favor, but her body was nearly spent from the effort and she was sore for days afterward. After that she vowed not to care what the popular notions were, she'd never let herself fall prey to weakness again. So she'd started running. That was also when she first enrolled in kickboxing class.

And now, eight years later, her body was in better shape than it had been on Cayldne. She was a competition level kick boxer and knew five different forms of martial arts. She'd been told by numerous coaches over the years that she had the skills to go pro in any of her specialties, but she'd resisted the offer. It wasn't fair after all, they were only human.

So she'd gone to college instead, trying to hone her mind into the same strength she demanded from her body. It was harder work, but she loved it. She loved her classes and her teachers, and the students that challenged her into thinking beyond the logic and straightforwardness she'd known as a child. And she would be sad next year when she graduated and had to leave the university. She hadn't made any plans beyond that so far, resisting the thought of what to do next with her life in favor of a more in the moment thinking that brought her comfort.

An hour later she returned to the apartment, sweating and breathless, and it was just as she'd left it. No movement, no sound, not even the stirring of restless sleep from her three roommates. Marcy never ceased to be amazed by this phenomena and laughed a little to herself as she took a shower and prepared for class.

The day passed quickly for Marcy and before she knew it she was driving up to the Book Basement, an eclectic used book store in Stone Canyon where she worked every afternoon and three weekends a month. The pay was excruciatingly low and if it weren't for the fact that she had four roommates and no car payment she wouldn't be able to sustain herself on this kind of employment. As it stood she'd probably only be able to continue working here until the end of the school year. After that she'd just have to see.

It would be sad to leave however. She loved being around books all day. She'd always had a pension for learning, and she loved fiction more than life itself. It reminded her of when she was little and her grandmother and great aunts would gather around the fireplace and tell stories of the ancients to her and her young cousins, stories that would one day shape their lives. Sure, the stories she read now were merely for entertainment, but she couldn't help feeling the pleasure of them all the same.

She sighed as she took her place behind the counter of the bookstore. I'm being too nostalgic, she thought, no wonder I'm having nightmares.

The phone rang and she picked it up, willing a smile on her face. "Book Basement, how can I help you?"

"Do you carry auto mechanic manuals?" a tenor male voice asked.

Marcy's smile went from forced to genuine at the odd request. "Sometimes, what are you looking for?"

"It's called Transon's Auto Guide."

"Which edition?"

"There's more than one?"

"There's four actually," Marcy said. "All out of print."

"Which ever one you have, I guess," said the caller.

"I know I can get you the fourth edition now, if you're willing to wait a week I might be able to get one of the others." If they still exist, she thought. The mechanic book he was asking for had been out of print for nearly a decade. It had taken her months of research to get the one she had.

"That's fine, can you hold it for me? I can pick it up tomorrow."

"Not a problem," Marcy said reaching for the notepad where they wrote down customer holds. The book he wanted wasn't actually in the store, but she could have it there tomorrow. "What's the name?"

"Billy Cranston."

"Alright, Mr. Cranston. I'll see you tomorrow. Just ask for Marcy."

"Thank you."

"You have a nice day."

Marcy hung up the phone and set the notepad aside thinking this would work out perfectly. She'd been dying for a new book to read but hadn't wanted to spend the money, but this was a great opportunity. The manager, Henry, was usually pretty loose with employees trading out books with each other, as long as they didn't abuse the privilege, so she was fairly certain that if she offered to trade her Transon's manual for Mr. Cranston, he would let her take her pick from the fiction section as payment. She picked up the notepad and walked to the back of the store to the manager's office. On the way she cut through the science fiction section of the store and slowly browsed the titles. Three or four jumped out at her and eventually she found one that was perfect. She pulled it off the shelf and continued to the office.