After David's departure, Jamie sat frozen in place at the table; Bear rested his head on his master's knee. Pent up fears and emotions were finally catching up now that the threat was no longer in front of him and he could process this reality. One shaky hand covered his mouth as the color drained from his face.
He jumped, startled, when Mark approached and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Jamie? Are you alright, friend? You look like you've seen a ghost!" he asked in concern.
Jamie blinked several times and he swallowed thickly.
"That guy seemed to know you. Did something happen?" Mark tried again, worried at how pale his friend had become.
Shaking his head, the stricken man pushed up from the table and darted toward the exit, Bear hot on his heels. He rounded the building into an alley and became violently ill, vomiting loudly into the prickly weeds. His knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground, his hands splayed on the dirt.
Heavy panting reached his ears as Mark bounded around the corner to find his friend hunched over on the ground.
"Jamie!" he cried, running up and resisting the urge to put his arms around his friend. He knew Jamie didn't like to be touched and he fought every impulse to pull him near.
Taking deep breaths, Jamie sat up and reached for the comfort of Bear's coat and reassuring warmth. He buried his face into the familiar fur and steadied himself.
"I'm ok," he quietly answered, swallowing back his terror.
"You're not ok. This is not how you came into the store. Who was that guy in there? Until you talked with him, you seemed like your normal happy self."
He lowered his voice and prodded gently.
"I know you've never wanted to talk about your past and I respect that. But I want you to know, I'm here to help you, Jamie. I don't care about anything that came before we met."
Red rimmed eyes lifted to meet Mark's and the store owner was taken aback. He had never seen such horror and pain in another human being's face. Obviously, he was aware that Jamie had PTSD; he'd come upon his friend at rest after his work was done and witnessed the screaming and thrashing that would often rack his friend's body. In conjunction with his heightened startle reflex, inability to tolerate crowds, distaste for physical touch. It was apparent that something awful had happened in the past.
Jamie sniffed and wiped his eyes. He smiled at Mark through his tears.
"Maybe its finally time I let someone in. After all, its too late. He knows I'm alive," he whispered.
Mark gestured back to the store.
"Let's go inside. Get a cool drink and I'm all ears," he said gently.
The two men went back inside followed by the worried canine. Mark pushed the door to the back open and ushered his friend through. The store had cleared out for the moment so Mark took the opportunity to flip the Closed sign on the door.
Jamie settled into a soft chair in Mark's small office, resting his forehead on the desk. Bear took his customary place beside the bouncing knee. He gave a soft whine.
Feeling something bump his arm, Jamie again jumped violently. Mark gently tapped his arm with the cold bottle of water.
"Sorry," he said softly and pulled another chair close to his friend.
"Its ok. I'm sorry I never told you the truth about me. I thought everyone would be safer." He accepted the drink and held the cool bottle against his forehead.
"I don't know that I can get everything out in one go, but I'm going to try."
"Hey, take your time. There's no rush. I'm not going anywhere," the other man soothed.
Leaning back in the chair to stare at the ceiling, Jamie sighed.
"I'm not really sure where to start. So I'll just begin here. You know the name Lord Drakkon, I'm sure," he spoke timidly.
"Yeah, he's that Power Ranger who went crazy and killed a lot of other Rangers. Ruled the planet Earth for a long time. I heard he died but I'm sure there were two separate supposed deaths," Mark answered. "There were stories about the awful things he did to his people."
He shuddered.
Jamie nodded and leaned forward to stare at the water bottle clasped in his hands.
"That's right. He was..is.. an evil monster."
"Are you saying that guy in the wheelchair…" Mark trailed off.
One look at the death grip his friend had on the plastic bottle was answer enough.
"No way! That guy?"
"I'm just as surprised as you are," Jamie stated honestly.
Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"I never meant to be maliciously deceitful, only to protect the people I care about. Mark, my name isn't Jamie. My real name is Jason Scott and I was the Red Tyranno Ranger."
Mark looked stunned.
"Wait, I thought Drakkon killed the Red Ranger during the White Tiger transfer? I heard he kept his shattered helmet?"
Jamie's eyes moved slowly to Mark's face.
"That's what he wanted everyone to think. So no one would try to rescue me. He wanted me to give him tactics and battle strategies to defeat the Rangers in other timelines. He took my Tyranno coin and perverted its power into the Red Sentries."
More tears welled up and spilled down the angular cheeks.
"Drakkon tortured me. Physically and mentally. I held out as long as I could but eventually, I couldn't take the pain anymore."
He began to brokenly sob.
"Mark, he got the information from me. He used it and more people died. Because of me."
A tear slid from Mark's eye as he listened to his friend's pain.
"I blamed myself for years. Years. Because he stole the White Tiger coin and because I couldn't be strong enough to keep my mouth shut. I found out that he drugged me during the fight and knocked me out. He bullied me into believing that I deserved to suffer and be humiliated because I failed."