Disclaimer: Saban owns Power Rangers. I just own a laptop and an overactive imagination.
A/N: First, big thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited/insert verb ending in -ed here. This chapter has more of that procedural stuff that I use creatively for the story and is of questionable accuracy at best. sz2000 helped me out with some of this (thanks a million, by the way), so now I've at least got a factual base for some of this stuff, which should help make it a bit more convincing. Anyway, I'll shut up now so you can get to what you really came here for.
Chapter 3
Scott Residence
July 10, 2012
5:15 AM
"Don't you own anything that isn't red?"
Jason reached out and turned off the shower, listening to the sucking sound of water going down the drain as he slid the door open a crack and reached his hand out, grasping blindly for a towel. His fingers closed around the first piece of cloth they came across, and he tugged it back into the shower and closed the door, trying to contain some of the steam while he ran the towel through his wet hair. He wondered if Kim had noticed how quiet he'd been – he usually sang in the shower, loud and occasionally off-key, the hot water relaxing more than just his stiff muscles. This morning, however, he'd kind of been on autopilot, going through the motions of taking a shower but paying more attention to his own thoughts. The events of the night before were weighing heavily on his mind.
He and Kim hadn't told any of their fellow former Rangers about what they'd been experiencing since Muranthias – hell, Kim had had nightmares too for a while, and it wasn't like with their combined five-plus years of active Ranger duty they didn't have enough nightmare material to last them several lifetimes anyway (a certain Green Ranger sprang immediately to mind). But after a while, Kim's nightmares had stopped; Jason's had only gotten worse.
At first the dreams had just gotten steadily more intense; after Kim had stopped having them, though, Jason's nightmares had started to manifest themselves physically. About four years ago he'd awakened to bloody wounds on his hands, where his fists had clenched so tightly his fingernails had dug into the skin of his palms. Having that happen on a semi-regular basis was frightening enough; then one night a few months later, he'd caught the first glimpse of his reflection, his eyes glowing that deep, bloody red that Tommy and the others had described to him.
Jason slowly slid the shower door open and stepped out onto the linoleum, groaning into the towel as the memory of that night went through his head. That was when things had gone beyond even the degree of weird a former Red Ranger was equipped to deal with. After that night, any strong rush of intense emotion – anger (when he'd first gotten the news of Zordon's death), grief (the night he'd gotten the call about his mother's accident) or even joy (the night he proposed to Kim) – would cause his eyes to flash that same shade of red. Over time, less and less powerful feelings were required, and the flashes became almost entirely unpredictable. That part had been impossible to hide from their friends. Jason had done his best to talk around the issue, promising that he and Kim had already made plans to see a doctor and then quickly trying to change the subject. He'd hoped they would just chalk the whole thing up to Jason being Jason, hoped his characteristically stubborn refusal to show even the slightest hint of vulnerability could actually work in his favor for once; still, the concerned looks they always shot him when they thought he wasn't watching told him they didn't completely buy his story.
It wasn't all bullshit, Jason thought as he stared at himself in the mirror, noticing for the first time how tired he still looked. He and Kim had actually gone to see a doctor, though all they'd told him was that Jason had been having night terrors. He'd done a brain scan, which of course turned up nothing, and then gave them the name of a psychologist.
Jason grimaced at that memory as he rubbed shaving cream onto his face and reached for a razor. Most of what the woman had told them had been absolutely no help, but she had given Jason a way to try and ease some of the guilt he felt by helping him acknowledge his loss of control (the details had been kept sketchy – all he'd told her was that he'd been put in a situation that forced him to behave in a way he'd regretted). Jason didn't know it, but she had also helped Kim devise a rough script for calming Jason down if one of his episodes was particularly intense.
Jason finished shaving, placed his razor back in the holder on the sink, and slapped his cheeks a few times, trying to clear his head and put some color back in his face at the same time. Finally, he pulled his gaze away from his reflection, wrapped the towel around his waist, and strode back out into the bedroom to find Kim perched on the edge of their now perfectly made bed, just hanging up from a phone call.
"Who was that?" he asked, leaning against the bathroom doorway. Kim glanced over at him and Jason suddenly changed his mind about the towel. He let it fall loose, caught it in his hand, flung it over the bathroom door, and crossed the room naked, giving Kim a chance to admire his sculpted stomach and impressively muscled figure, parts of which still glistened with water.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, eying him appreciatively up and down. Jason slid open a drawer and pulled out a pair of red boxers. As he stepped into them he looked up at Kim and raised an eyebrow.
"Try me," he said, smiling mischievously. Kim ignored him completely and just stared at him for a moment. "What?"
She looked up at him and gestured with mock exasperation at the boxers he'd pulled on. "Don't you own anything that isn't red?"
Jason grinned and hooked a finger under the waistband. "Why would I? Being a red ranger is 'in my blood,' remember? I've been subconsciously programmed to wear this color since high school. Why stop now? After all," he snapped the elastic against his hip. "I've always looked so damn good in it."
Kim chuckled to herself and shook her head. "And it goes so well with your natural modesty."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Anyway, that call was the second one I got while you were in there. The first one was Foster. He said because of the unusually early hours, we can take our time a little getting to the scene, on two conditions – we still have to be there before he shows up from LA…"
"Which knowing him gives us approximately zero extra time," Jason grumbled.
Kim ignored him and continued. "And you have to make the coffee."
Jason considered what she'd said for a moment. "Wow, he didn't have to – wait, he knows that coffee I make that he loves so much comes out of a package, right? One he could very easily buy and make himself?"
"Apparently not. Anyway, he said he wouldn't usually do this but he recognized the name of the lead detective from AGPD Homicide and he seemed to think we could persuade him to cooperate and hold down the scene for us, make sure nothing gets tampered with. In his own words, it's 'that Irish guy your husband can't shut the hell up about.' Sound familiar?"
"Tommy isn't actually Irish, is he?" The question was out of Jason's mouth before he realized what Kim had just said. He suddenly whipped his head around to face her, his eyes widening. "Wait, Tommy? He's working this for AGPD?"
Kim nodded. "That was basically my reaction too. Tommy's always off lending an assist in Oakland or San Diego or Pasadena. Frankly, I'm surprised AGPD even has a homicide division. There hasn't been an actual murder inside the Angel Grove city limits since…" Her voice trailed off and she made eye contact with Jason as he finished pulling a white T-shirt over his head.
"Since us," he finished for her, filling the last word with several years and countless battles' worth of meaning.
Kim just nodded again, absently brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I called Tommy and apparently he's already there – I guess he was on patrol or something, and he got all excited about us working together again like the good old days. I get the distinct impression that getting him to cooperate won't be all that difficult." She smiled, the idea of working with her old teammate again taking her back to the glory days of her youth.
"Yeah, well, that's what I thought about getting the green candle, and look how that turned out for everyone," Jason retorted. When Kim didn't respond, he looked up and saw her staring blankly into space, her expression one of blissful recollection. He snuck across the room, grabbed his towel off the door and threw it at her, snapping her out of her reverie. "Watch it, Crane," he said, dropping her old nickname as she glared at him past the wet towel draped across her face. "Don't go getting all dreamy on me and forget to shower. I'm not the only one who has to get cleaned up in the morning."
Kim snorted and threw the towel back at him. Jason caught it easily and grinned devilishly at her. She hopped off the bed and stormed across the bedroom, stopping in the bathroom doorway much like he had and jabbing a finger at him. "You'll pay for that, Rex," she hissed, struggling to keep a straight face as she slammed the door behind her.
Jason reacted quickly – he knew that tone all too well. Kim was a sweetheart most of the time, but her vengeful side was the stuff they wrote horror novels about. "I'll just go make breakfast," he called through the door, grabbing some clothes and his wallet before heading for the hallway.
"Love you too!"
Jason had just taken a fresh pot of coffee out of the coffeemaker and was reaching for a mug when he heard Kim's footsteps on the hardwood floor at the base of the stairs. She was still humming the tune of the song she'd been singing in the shower, and Jason couldn't help but smile as he pulled another mug from the cupboard and let the door swing shut. His smile disappeared, however, when he heard her footsteps abruptly stop.
Kim's song died in her throat as Jason turned and held up a mug, about to offer it to her; the look on her face, however, was startling enough that his whole train of thought was broken. The only thing he could think of to say was, "Well, I guess someone's not walking on sunshine after all."
She frowned at him and put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a look that made even a man as strong and powerful as Jason a little nervous. He just stared at her. Kim wore a black pantsuit with a pink blouse underneath, a few buttons left undone at the top. Her hair, perfectly styled as always, fell gently over her shoulders, held away from her face by a pink clip. A pair of high-heeled shoes dangled in one hand, the same hand she used to gesture at Jason. "Is that really what you're wearing?"
Jason spread his arms and looked down at himself. He wore a red button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled tightly up to his elbows, which he'd tucked into a pair of dark jeans, and boots. His gun hung from the shoulder holster he wore strapped across his chest like suspenders. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing the collar of the white T-shirt underneath. Jason looked back up at Kim. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
She gaped at him incredulously. "Did you just conveniently forget that Foster completely laid into you less than a week ago about dressing professionally at crime scenes? Or at work in general, for that matter. You may not like it, but the Bureau has a bit of a fixation on image."
Jason scoffed and turned back to the coffee. "I do remember Foster ripping into me, and I seem to recall it had more to do with me showing too much chest. Hence the T-shirt." He motioned to his chest as he handed Kim a full cup of steaming coffee. "I also remember that the next day I wore a T-shirt under a leather jacket to work and he didn't say a damn thing. Didn't even look at me funny. Which, by the way, is more than I can say for you." She cocked her head at him, bewildered. "You're like a pinker version of Agent Scully over there." Jason grinned and brought his cup of coffee to his lips, leaning his weight against the edge of the counter.
Kim glanced down at herself and sighed. "I didn't even realize I put on the pink shirt. I didn't even think about it." Suddenly she looked back up at him. "Your eyes flashed when you were arguing with me. Right around didn't say a damn thing. They stayed that way for a while, too – pretty much until you smiled."
Jason closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest and sighed loudly. Setting his cup down on the counter, he reached for a Thermos for Foster and glanced at the toaster, where two bagels were about to pop. He moved silently, his happy demeanor from before seemingly completely gone. Kim set her shoes on the floor and started working her feet into them. "We have to talk about what happened, Jason. I know you don't want to, but I also know you understand how important it is that I know everything you're going through. And if what happened last night was as bad as you said it was…" she paused and he turned and regarded her, standing there leaning against the staircase with one shoe on. Finally she continued. "Maybe it's time we tell the others."
"It was and we're not," Jason replied softly, grabbing a pair of paper plates as the bagels popped up in the toaster. "The others still look at me like the leader I was six years ago. I don't want them seeing me like this."
"Damn it, Jason," Kim replied sharply, earning a surprised look. "Do you honestly believe they'll think anything less of you if you tell them what you've been fighting the last five years? That they'll blame you or something? This wasn't something you did wrong or failed at – this was something that was done to you. For Christ's sake, you know that, you've told me so. Don't you think any of them, especially Billy or Tommy, would jump at the chance to help you, after all you did for us? But for them to do anything, you need to let them in." She stopped, and they just looked at each other across the kitchen for a long while. Finally, Jason's shoulders slumped and he broke eye contact with her.
"If I have another episode like this one, I promise I'll tell them." He looked up at Kim; she just gazed at him expectantly. "All of them." She still didn't break her gaze. "We can send out a fucking press release, I'll shout it from the damn mountaintops, you can post it on YouTube for all I care. Can we go now?"
Kim's face broke into a grin. "You really are just a big softie, you know that?"
Jason rolled his eyes, snorted, and went about gathering up their breakfasts and Foster's coffee. "Whatever. You married me. Now grab the damn car keys. World ain't gonna save itself."
