Power Rangers: Cyber Squad

by Patrykowski

In the year 2028, SPD ends the Ranger program in an effort to demilitarize Earth and form peace with the planet Eltar. But when the cyber terrorist known as Mesomorph surfaces as the leader of the dangerous Aleph Beyt cult with the army of Genohanced warriors, it is up to the retired Thomas Oliver to lead the first "random" team in 15 years as the Power Rangers: Cyber Squad.

55. Back to December

Volume VII - The War of Rangers

Chapter 54—Back to December

Patrick

Seasons on Eltar were weird, I decided.

When we'd left Earth, it was June. Warm. Sunny. June.

When we got to Eltar, it was nice at first. The first night, we'd celebrated Aaron's late birthday. The weather was warm, clear, and full of life.

But the next day—the beginning of the war—seemed to change the climate of the entire planet. The sky outside was grey and heavy, thick with smoke and debris. Maybe that's what had made it so cold and windy. Maybe war had taken its toll on the planet more than it had us, and now the sun couldn't get through all the billowing smoke effusing from its cities and forests being burned away in laser fire.

It was like Eltar's summer had dissipated into an icy, bitter winter over the course of two weeks.

"You ready for bed?" Aaron's voice floated to me from across the room.

He, obviously, was ready for bed. He was wavering in front of his side of the bed in his boxer-briefs, an utterly exhausted look in his face.

"Yeah," I said, de-materializing the holographic computer screen with a sweep of my hand.

Aaron fell into the bed in a pile of muscled arms and legs, his face smushed against the pillow as he let out a groan. "For the first time in forever," he mumbled from his pillow, "I feel completely and totally human."

I felt my mouth quirk in a grin as I started undressing and heading to the bathroom. "Why do you say that?" I called back to him as I turned on the faucet, glancing at myself in the mirror briefly.

"I'm so. Freaking. Tired," he half-yelled. "I seriously feel like I could sleep for days."

I smiled to myself as I squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush.

I knew that even though he said he was exhausted, he'd be up in two hours. He never slept for long, and even when he was asleep, it was hardly the same as my definition of "asleep." Although I would never tell him—I hated it. It was no different from sleeping alone. I fell asleep next to him, but he was never in bed when I woke up.

I finished up in the bathroom and made my way over to him. "How's everything going with the council?" I wondered, rubbing his back as I sat on the edge of the bed.

He sighed. "It fucking sucks."

I smirked, laughing silently to myself in amusement at his descriptive answer.

"What's going on?"

He didn't open his eyes as he explained sleepily. "There's all this bullshit about who should take the throne. An effective Dyr Ban Eltar has never gone into the Rejuvynashyn cycle before. Dyn's the first to ever do it, and so now the chain of command is all fucked up because I'm technically the heir to the throne. But so is Nike. But the council is pushing for me to take the Dyr Ban Eltar mantle."

I frowned slightly. From my understanding, the Dyr Ban Eltar couldn't be younger than 25. But if Nike became the first Dyrn Ban Eltar, her husband would be King. And since he was human, the Council was not having that.

"I see," I finally said, processing all the information. "So…are you Dyr Ban Eltar now?"

He was quiet for a few moments, breathing silently. My hand stopped rubbing reflexively.

"Yes," he said.

"Wow," I mumbled. "That's weird."

"Very," he replied. "Nike suspects something. And to be honest, I can't say I blame her."

I nodded. "I can definitely see why. I mean, no offense to you, but she's obviously more qualified."

"Exactly," he said, the side of his face still smashed into the pillow. "And I don't wanna be king."

"Well," I sighed, "too bad, Simba. You don't have a choice."

He laughed deliriously. "I can totally wait to be king."

I chuckled with him, flipping up the blanket on my side of the bed. "Let's get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

He groaned loudly as he pushed himself up from the bed and stood up.

It was hard not to stare. Even in his state of exhaustion, Aaron was still the most incredible thing I'd ever seen.

He flung the covers up and dove into the bed, burying his head under his pillow. "You think if I just stay here all day, they'll leave me alone?"

I laughed mockingly. "Yeah, right."

"Lights, off," I commanded the room as I shimmed up next to him, his body warming me immediately.

"Goodnight, my liege."

"Fuck you," he laughed.

I laughed. I really did. But at the same time, I was trying not to take offense. He didn't really mean that. He was just saying it. It was something people said jokingly. But I thought about it differently.

He picked up on it immediately.

"I'm sorry," he said, noticeably more serious. "I didn't mean that."

"No, I know," I said, quiet.

"Aw, don't be upset. I know you are."

"No, really," I denied flimsily, "don't worry about it."

"But I know it bothers you. Not being able to have sex and stuff."

"It's just…it's one of those things where I know I shouldn't get upset. I know I shouldn't be, at all. But…at the same time, I am. I'm mad at myself."

"Don't be," he argued, lifting my face up slightly. "It's not your fault."

I tried to suppress a faint growl of agitation. "It's not that," I said somewhat heatedly. "It's the fact that I want to. And I can't. I'm so pissed. But I don't know at who or at what. It's like…I dunno…"

"Sexual frustration?"

"Exactly!" I shouted, more enthusiastically than I'd intended.

"Well I mean…" he started quietly, "there are other ways, you know? I mean…"

I stopped his hand before it could creep anywhere it shouldn't. "No," searching for the right words, "it's not the same." I laughed somewhat, defeated. "It's not even close."

He nodded knowingly. "I completely agree."

We sat in silence for a bit, thinking.

"I guess we just have to be patient," I sighed.

He rolled toward me, his lips finding mine briefly. "I can wait. You can too."

"Yeah, yeah," I said dismissively. "Goodnight."

"G'night."

I made myself comfortable and fell asleep almost instantly.

—54—

I shot up in the cold, empty bed as my thoughts went into overdrive and my stomach wretched with some uncontrollable grief. On auto-pilot, my body guided my fractured, frantic mind to a toilet. My hands fumbled blindly in the dark as bile erupted from my throat into the watery basin beneath my face.

But my mind remained separate from my senses, ignoring the pain as it chose to focus on the impossibility of indestructible Aaron being erased from existence. How could he be gone? He was just here. He was telling me all the things I'd wanted to hear, telling me we could be together, holding me romantically and casually like no one else could. He was here. If I tried hard enough, I was sure I could still feel his arms around me.

How could he be gone?

And finally, my body and mind reconnected. All the pains of the physical world came crashing in on the frayed synapses of my already overworked brain and my eyes seemed to jettison tears down my burning face. The intangibility of agony became inarguably and horrifyingly carnal in one swift, fatal blow; and, as if running on primal instincts, my vocal chords thundered in an unforgiving scream.

"What's wrong?"

My ears vibrated with the sensation of sound, but I didn't believe them. I knew my mind was playing sick and twisted games on my stress-ridden heart.

But then I felt arms spinning me around, light bursting into existence like a localized supernova.

"Patrick, what's wrong?"

I blinked, speechless. My brain formed words, but my lips weren't responding to the electric impulses I was sending to them.

Aaron?

Aaron?

"Aaron?"I half-shouted, my voice returning uncontrollably. "But…but how?"

"Patrick, what are you talking about?" he asked, his arms shaking me slightly as his hands strengthened their grips around my biceps.

I flinched, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I…I thought you were dead?"

He was silent a couple seconds as he tried to piece things together. Then, as if his eyes weren't already starry as they were, they began to glow with a faint bluish-white aura that clouded the whites of his eyes like a ghostly veil of energy. I felt his palm on my back burn for just a little over a second before he released me entirely. His eyes returned to normal, but they lit up with something else.

Sympathy.

"Patrick," he said softly, taking my hand with one of his and wiping at my eyes with the other. "Patrick, you had a nightmare. You…were dreaming about the day before I was attacked by Gabriel," he explained, though slightly relieved. "It was a repressed memory, so it seemed realer than other dreams." I noticed his voice seemed very controlled all of the sudden. "I never actually died. My Dyn just told everyone that because I was in a coma for 18 months."

As he spoke, it was like my brain had time to lift itself from the fog of my freakishly real nightmare.

"I've been 'back' for a little over a month now."

I must've been holding my breath because it all came tumbling from my lungs in a sigh of relief and realization. Now that he'd mentioned, I noticed the alien nature of the bathroom. I realized we were in the Eltarian palace. I came back to present time.

"Wow…" I finally said, "I…I feel like a fucking idiot."

"It's okay," he replied, smiling, "everyone has nightmares, dude."

"Yeah, but still."

"It's not your fault. If there's one thing I'll always disagree with Dyn about, it's the fact that he told everyone I was dead. He couldn't even trust you or Corey, or even the rest of the Fury team with his 'secret.'

I didn't respond, listening to the subtle anger lacing his voice.

It was rare, but it was the occasions like this one where I could definitely see parts of Orion heavy in Aaron's personality. Especially when it came to Hunter.

Now Aaron was silent, seemingly digressing in his thoughts. I saw the sadness sweep across his face briefly and knew immediately that he must've been having a hell of an internal Armageddon with Orion about Hunter's current condition. Especially since no one knew how long the Rejuvynashyn cycle could last.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's in the past—I wish Hunter had told me, but I can't change it now—"

"But after seeing what you went through," he said through tight lips, cutting me off entirely, "after seeing you just now? I…I just…I dunno. There's just so much going on all at once—all the time."

I felt wordless. I didn't have an answer to his problem. I didn't have the answer to any of our problems. Amy was being kept as a lab rat basically, and morphing was completely out of the question for her. Jay was supportive, though, but I could tell he was worried. And he had every right to be, considering the alien nature of her condition. And Grace—Grace was just invisible. It was like she had lost the spark she once had. She hardly talked anymore, and spent most of her time holed up with Matt, who, naturally, did the same thing she did. They had all but withdrawn from the world. Not that there was much of a world to withdraw from. Here on Eltar, Grace and I were pretty much nameless—which was weird, coming from Earth where everyone knew our names. I knew some people because of my connections with Aaron's family, but that was about it.

But Beth sure as hell made a name for herself. It was like since bonding with Omega, she had become a war commander. She trained with the Eltarian Land Forces, she was present at all their briefings (with clearance granted by Zordon), and when any small-scale battles broke out, Beth was always on the job. Eltar was quickly learning the name of Beth Daniels. Then again, the war was personal for her. And I think Omega showed Beth she didn't have a choice but to fight. And win.

Aaron seemed to agree. Most nights, he was reviewing reports from Beth. Even though he had just been officially appointed Dyr Ban Eltar, he had been preparing for the possibility. We both had. But my responsibilities were never legal or dealing with Eltar's military forces. My assignment was the Mecha Squad, so I had been working closely with Corey.

But Aaron was right. All the extra things in life had pulled us away from our inner problems. Maybe that was why it was so difficult to bond with the Zordians. Because we couldn't deal with the simple things.

We just didn't have the time.

Aaron broke the silence as he took a deep breath and stood up. "What time is it?"

"I dunno," I responded after clearing my throat, "I didn't check."

"Luckily, it's still early. Nights are long during Barrym; you've still got another five or six hours of sleep," he said, sitting on the bed to look at me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "My seasons and times are all mixed up. I haven't been on Eltarian time in a while. Not since my surgeries and stuff." I slowly laid down in bed, turning to face him as he stood. "Are you up for the day now?"

"Yeah, I'm all rested," he said, smiling. I think he picked up on my miserable mood, though. "Why? What's up?"

I groaned, feeling like the biggest baby. He was about to leave. Probably off to the command center or something. There was a heavy pause that hung in the air, torturing my thoughts. But I fought the words coming up like vomit and opted for saying, "Nothing, never mind."

"Patrick," he said, the impatience clear in his voice, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I insisted, my pride getting the best of me, "I said I'm fine."

"Don't make me use my powers."

I looked up at him, my eyes screaming "you wouldn't." But I knew he would.

His intense stare broke my front, and I sighed as I felt the words tumble from me. "I don't like sleeping alone. I guess it freaks me out—hell, maybe that's why I just had a breakdown because of some stupid repressed memory."

"What?" he demanded, somewhat irritated. "I do sleep with you. Every single night."

"No," I argued back, "you fall asleep next to me for two hours and then you're gone. By the time I wake up, you're always gone. Every single time."

He looked torn, like part of him understood and part of him couldn't understand why that was important.

"Never mind," I sighed, pulling up the covers and rolling over on my side so I didn't have to see the confusion in his aurora eyes.

He scoffed. "I don't see why that's so bad. When you're sleeping, you don't even know I'm there," he said to my back simply.

As my eyes bored into the nightstand in my direct line of sight, I realized his logic was flawless. I knew he was making sense. But my feelings didn't always make sense. And suddenly, they were speaking for me again, my eyes never straying from the alien nightstand.

"Because when I wake up and you're gone, it's no different from when you were really gone," I said, more of an edge to my voice than I'd intended there to be.

Then, he snapped back.

"Look, I know you're hurting. I know you have all these feelings of loss and guilt and all these other conflicting emotions—but I don't know what you want from me. There's a war going on. Not a battle. Not a skirmish. A war. My home planet is being invaded by yours, and now I'm forced into the forefront as a 22-year-old king. So I'm sorry if the last thing on my mind is forcing my body to sleep for eight hours so you can wake up feeling better about yourself."

I turned around angrily, ready to go head-to-head with the newly appointed Eltarian King, but he was gone. I saw the door sliding shut, the quiet swoosh of air like a haunting whisper of his scathing—but true—words.

—54—

I stared at the lifeless form of Rheas, my little brother. I could see the family resemblance now in the color of his skin and the similar texture and tint of his short hair. I was pretty sure that if his eyes were open, he'd have the same grey eyes that my mom and I had. Our mom.

I sighed, wondering how this was going to help at all. His brain wave monitor hadn't changed at all in the time we'd been on Eltar, despite all the best doctors trying to help him. He was a lot more like me than I wanted to admit—especially on the medical front.

"To be honest, I have no idea if talking to you is even going to make a bit of a difference. At all. I mean, you're comatose, or something like that. It's not like you're going to wake up just because I'm here rambling about who knows what. But…I wish you would. I need…I need answers. I need something to motivate me. And talking to mom's tombstone didn't really help much. But I dunno…I thought—Aaron thought—that somehow coming here and talking to you would either make me feel better or stick with you when you do actually wake up. If you actually wake up." I gave myself a few seconds to think of what I could say, to reflect on the past two weeks. On the past two years. "Maybe the reason he wanted me to come here is because no one ever came and talked to him while he was in his coma. Who knows? What I do know is that if you…if you can fight this and come out alive, I'll be here. I'll help you. But I'm gonna need you to help me. Cuz that's what brothers do, right?"

"That's exactly what brothers do." I turned around to see Jay standing in the doorway, his huge figure filling the doorframe easily. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Aaron mentioned that I've been avoiding coming here. Guess he was right."

He shrugged. "He might be the king and all, but he's not always right."

"In this case, he was."

"Dude, you just found out you have a brother. One who's been trying to kill you for the past 4 years. Cut yourself a little bit of slack. It's not like being here while he's brain dead makes much of a difference."

I didn't respond, glancing at Rheas's unmoving body.

"I've been cutting myself slack for the past two months. I've been throwing an eternal self-pity-party for God knows how long…and…I just don't know how to get out of it. I thought maybe focusing on someone other than me might help."

"You sure picked a hell of a candidate: a guy who can't talk back."

I glared at Jay but he smirked back, his bluntness true to his nature.

"I'm just saying, man, you need to stop blaming yourself for everything. Stop looking at what you can't do and start realizing what you can and have done."

I grinned now, looking at him curiously. "When did you become so sagely?"

"I hang around Amy too much."

I laughed a little as he patted my shoulder. "Aaron told me about your fight earlier."

I sneered slightly, derisively cocking my head. "Oh yeah? Did he tell you I was whining about sleeping alone?"

"No," he said, "he told me he was worried and confused. He doesn't know what to do, and he feels like an ass for going off like he did."

"So why are you here telling me about it? Why isn't he here apologizing?"

He fixed me with a look that said I knew why and I immediately felt childish again. "He's with Zordon and Nike, going over a plan or something." He paused, taking a seat and looking up at me. "Look, I see both of your guys' sides of the story. I understand why you're upset, but I understand why he is too. But Aaron was gone for a year-and-a-half. He doesn't realize how much his absence affected you—affected us. And he's the kind of person who focuses on the present and the immediate future. He doesn't think much about the past anymore because…well, I guess because he doesn't really have the time. Or maybe that's what he does when he's meditating. All I know is that he's trying. He's literally got the weight of this world on his shoulders, and that's a lot to bear when you're trying to rebuild a relationship too."

"See, this is what I mean," I finally said, "I'm damned if I do, but I'm damned if I don't. I feel like a douche because I'm being a terrible boyfriend—but at the same time, I'm trying not to be so down on myself. I don't know what the fuck to do."

"Just be there for him. Focus on getting better. Go see a doctor about your surgery wounds. Focus on helping Rheas. Do whatever you can to get past the past."

I nodded knowingly. "You're right."

He smiled arrogantly. "I know."

With that, he stood from his chair and then did something completely un-Jay-like.

He hugged me.

"You're strong, Patrick. You just have to find your strength again."

—54—

"So you're saying I'm hurting myself?"

Doctor Adekandar nodded, glancing at his holo-clipboard. "The nature of your genetic structure is still mysterious to us, but what we can be sure of is that your mental capabilities—your developing psychic field—far exceeds your physical endurance. Your inner turmoil and your obsession with dwelling on your disabilities is actually cementing them. The more you expend your energy on worrying about your surgical incisions and your fraying emotional state, the more permanent your condition becomes."

"So…so what do I do? Are you saying I'm tricking my body into feeling injured?"

"It's not completely unheard of, even on Earth. Women suffer from postpartum depression and hysterical pregnancy either after childbirth or after a miscarriage. It would stand to reason that if a male human could bear children, he would display the same non-physical afflictions."

I nodded slowly as I took in the information. It made perfect sense, I just hadn't ever thought of it before.

"My advice: take a psychic session. An extended one. A minimum of six hours should do."

"Six hours?"

"Minimum," he said emotionlessly. "Your mind needs to heal before your body can, Mr. Adams."

He headed for the door, signaling my appointment was over.

"I believe you will find psychic sessions more therapeutic than a simple 'pick-me-up.' Especially with MegaenEyrn Nike."

My eyes bugged. "Wait, you want me to meet with my boyfriend's aunt? That…that's gonna be the most awkward six hours of my life."

"MegaenEyrn Nike is the most powerful telepath on the planet. If there is anyone qualified to help you, it would be her."

He didn't give me time to argue, because he was gone before I could even open my mouth.

So I gathered my wits, put my shirt back on, and mustered up all the courage I could. This was not going to be fun. At all.

Nike was sympathetic and caring, and I had talked with her before. But always around the rest of Aaron's family. Never alone. Never about all my fucked up issues. Never about Aaron.

I made my way through the underground bunker and then took the elevator up to the main palace. It had been somewhat easy to rebuild in the past two weeks since the start of the war, especially since it had its own regenerative properties. After all, it had been built by Zordon himself. And Zordon often planned for his structures to be destroyed. Just look at how many times the Command Center on Earth had been attacked.

As I wandered through the winding corridors with their glass-like walls and their crystal stairways, I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen. How this was going to unfold. Because Nike was a full-blooded Eltarian, even more emotionally detached than Hunter or Aaron could ever have been, especially since she had spent the majority of her life being an Eltarian refugee on the run from Zeus.

"Patrick."

I turned sharply to see Nike at the foot of the staircase I'd just ascended, her brown hair lying loosely across her shoulders. I could see the exhaustion in her face and the strain weighing down on her shoulders a thousand times heavier than her rich locks.

"Hey, I was just looking for you," I replied, walking toward her.

"I know. I've been expecting you," she said mysteriously. "How are you?"

"Been better, that's for sure. How are you?"

She grinned faintly. "Same, I'm afraid."

I nodded sympathetically and she reached her hand out to beckon me to follow her.

We walked for what seemed like hours. I knew it was more like 10 minutes, but I was pretty sure that the silence elongated the duration. I wasn't sure if she was warming up her mind for the no doubt grueling process of a six hour psychic session, or if she was just silent because she was sorting through her own issues. Either way, the silence was uncomfortable. I wasn't sure why, what with the fate of a world hanging in the balance, but this seemed semi-apocalyptic. I had no idea how this was going to go. What it would entail. How I would feel afterwards.

"It won't be fun," Nike said, having either read my mind or picked up on how loudly I was projecting my thoughts. "But it won't kill you either."

—54—

It was December of 2030, the lightly-snow-covered ground bringing the holiday spirit out in just about every resident in Reefside—whether they were celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa. Or, in this case, Soltaris. I hadn't been back to Reefside voluntarily since Aaron and I had broken up, and the fights had only gotten worse. It actually got physical once. I felt like we had devolved to our high school roles again.

I just couldn't be around him.

I had spoken with Hunter about it when we first broke up. His words were simple: I was like a son to him and that I was as good as family—no matter what mine and Aaron's relationship status was.

It felt good to know I had them as a family.

But I didn't take him up on his offer to spend Thanksgiving with them. I told them it was because Thanksgiving is in October, not November.

They didn't understand that it was a Canadian thing.

I was thankful, though, for not having to be around Aaron. He made my head hurt and my stomach knot, and it was like he had this way of making me feel like I was on fire. I knew it was anxiety, but I wouldn't let him know that.

Presently, I stood in front of the Brooks-Zeta residence feeling somewhat confused. Through the large window in the living room, I could see Corey laughing heartily alongside Nike and Andrea, who were there with their respective husbands and children. Dustin was talking now as he served wine glasses to Andrea and Nike, and I saw Hunter make a disapproving face when Corey reached for one. I had to grin.

And then I locked eyes with Aaron.

Somehow, he had managed to catch my eye just as I was deciding to leave.

Just because he saw me didn't mean I was going to stay, though. I turned on my heel hurriedly and headed back to my car. But I heard the front door open anyway.

"Hey!" he called out to me.

"Why are you wearing shorts? It's like, 14 degrees," I said, deflecting his greeting entirely. I knew what he was going to say anyway.

"Shorts are comfy," he said predictably. "You…uh…you wanna come inside?"

I hesitated. "I honestly came by to wish everyone a 'Bright Soltaris,' but I can't really stay."

He made a face. "Come on."

"Dude, I really don't wanna stay."

"You don't have to stay," he snapped, "but you at least need to show your face. My parents have been asking about you nonstop, and it's fucking annoying."

I furrowed my eyebrows and opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

"And don't bother getting sarcastic—I'm not saying it's your fault that they care about you. I'm saying it's your fault that you won't call them back or even acknowledge them. Because of me."

I sighed, suddenly realizing that the snow on the ground was much prettier than I thought.

"Alright," I conceded. "But only for a few minutes."

"Half-an-hour."

"Fine," I groaned.

I followed him awkwardly to the front door I'd stepped through numerous times. For some reason, there might as well have been a mile-high hurdle in my way, because it was so difficult to actually step inside. I was trying to block out this portion of my life. I was letting go of all-things-Aaron.

But as soon as I was inside, I smelled home. There was the distinct smell of fresh laundry, spliced with the faint scent of pastries or something. I assumed it was because they were cooking Soltaris specialties, because this house always smelled like fresh laundry and spring. It was oddly refreshing. Dustin said it was because he was an outdoorsy guy. I chalked it up to his past as an Earth Wind Ninja.

"Hey, everyone; look what I found outside," Aaron managed to say happily enough.

We stepped through the foyer and into the living room where the room nearly erupted in glee. Nike clambered over Wes's stretched out legs to hug me wholly, Dustin and Hunter right behind her. I think Andrea came up at some point, because I saw a shock of red underneath all the arms and shoulders and necks pressed against me.

"Group hug!" Corey shouted, joining in on the foray.

I couldn't help but smile. I had missed this. Last Soltaris officially made me part of the family, and now…so much had changed in the past year.

"Are you hungry?" Dustin asked me over the commotion of Corey explaining her cell phone and Nike and Andrea asking me about my music career. Hunter was trying to disperse the crowd around me, but it seemed his monarchial power had no effect on family members.

Dustin managed to pull me away from everyone and into the quiet kitchen where the smell of fruity pastries and something like chocolate overwhelmed my senses blissfully.

"Holy hell, that smells amazing," I said. "I forgot how much I miss home cooked food."

"All that touring and training," Dustin laughed, "I'm sure you spend more money on takeout than we do on regular groceries."

"I don't doubt it," I said sadly. "And that's saying something considering how many groceries you guys go through."

"Well," he said with a smile, "there's always enough food for you. I'm glad you came by."

"Yeah…I was just gonna stop by cuz…I have to be up early and stuff, but…"

"What changed your mind?" he asked knowingly.

"Aaron kinda…made me feel like shit for not coming around more often. You guys are like my family…and…I dunno…it's just hard."

Dustin set down my plate and placed both hands on my shoulders as he sighed and looked up at me. "Dude, I completely understand. I…I've heard about what happened, and while we can't take sides…Aaron messed up. And I think if you give him a chance to at least explain himself, you can at least save the friendship."

"Yeah, but Aaron and I were never friends," I laughed bitterly. "We went straight from hating each other to making out. There was no friendship involved."

"You don't think a relationship is a friendship?" Dustin wondered, furrowing his eyebrows. "Patrick, you and Aaron spent nearly every day together—you lived together at a really young age. And you made it through that. That's no small feat. Trust me when I say that relationships fail if there's no friendship."

"Exactly," I said quickly, "and ours failed."

Dustin shook his head. "Yeah, it did—but not because you guys weren't friends. You owe it to each other to figure out why your relationship failed."

Now I was getting pissed.

"I don't need to sit down and chitchat with him to figure out why it failed—he screwed Amy's cousin. That's why."

Dustin shook his head again. "There's more to it, Patrick, and you know that. Now, all I'm gonna say about it is that you two need to man up and talk this out. Do it for your team, and do it for us. Cuz we miss having you around."

He smiled at me faintly, handed me my plate, and then patted me on the back as he walked out of the kitchen.

For the next 30 minutes, I mulled over what Dustin had said. It was going on 9 pm, and I knew I needed to get this talk over with. I knew Dustin was right. I needed to figure out why Aaron slept with Josh. I needed to figure out how he could sleep with Josh. I needed closure.

"Are you serious? It's barely even 9 o'clock," Corey whined.

"We have a space flight at 4:30 am, little missy," Hunter said, "and no one wants to wake you up when you haven't had enough sleep."

"She hits," Aaron joked.

"Shut up," she shot at him.

He made a particularly interesting face at her that made her roll her eyes with a small smile, but I knew Aaron had done what was necessary by backing up his parents on their ruling.

"Fine," Corey sighed.

"Make sure you're quiet going up the stairs; the kids are already in bed," Andrea chimed in.

"I think we should probably head to bed, too," Leo yawned. "I think it must be a Zeta girl thing, because Andrea hits when she's sleepy too."

"I think that's just an Andrea thing," Hunter laughed.

Andrea raised her hand threateningly.

"Well, as good as it was to see everyone, I think I should get going, too," I said, standing. "Cor, it was good to see you," I said to the tall slender blond, hugging her tightly. Andrea and Leo were next in line, followed by Nike and Wes. Dustin and Hunter waited expectantly and both instructed me to not be such a stranger.

Hunter looked pretty commanding when he said it. He had that look that said I had better listen. So I would.

Aaron was the only person left, and I felt super awkward with the others watching. But I swallowed my pride and pushed my question out of my throat.

"Do you…wanna grab some coffee or something?"

I could tell in his eyes that he was trying to fight the excitement he was feeling. But I knew him too well.

"Yeah…that'd be cool."

Well that wasn't so hard.

"I, uh…I gotta change real quick," he said. "You wanna come up? I changed my room around."

As tempting as that was…

"Ah, I'm good; I'll go start the car," I said intelligently.

I could tell he was disappointed that I didn't buy into his game. See, I knew Aaron. Aaron wasn't good at proving his points—not when it came to me. I was all verbal, needing very little physicality to prove my point. Aaron was the opposite. He wasn't good with expressing emotion, so the way he did it was physical.

And I knew he was trying to lure me up into his room while he was changing so that he could get me in bed. And, truthfully, I wanted that. I really did. But only when I could stand to look at him afterwards. And I knew I wouldn't be able to currently.

It took him a bit longer to change than I anticipated, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was tearing apart his closet to find clothes to wear. More specifically, clothes that I liked him to wear.

He was so predictable.

When he did finally come to the car, he was wearing clothes I liked. Unfortunately, it was my favorite outfit of his: a fitted, long-sleeved, white t-shirt from some high-end retail store (NOT Abercrombie, though!); a pair of dark-wash denim jeans that seemed to fit too perfectly; and some brown suede hiker boots.

And then he opened the door and sat next to me in the passenger seat, and I smelled his scent immediately dominate my car. In that instant, I hated him more than anything. He took every weakness he knew I had—every physical weakness—and used it against me. He had sprayed my favorite cologne over probably 85 percent of his body and had styled his hair in the casually disheveled manner I loved so much. And around his muscular neck was a hemp necklace with squared emerald stitched in it; I'd bought it for him on his 19th birthday. He hadn't worn it lately, but he chose tonight—of all nights—to wear it.

"Is that seriously what you're wearing?" I finally asked ten minutes later.

"What's wrong with this? First you don't like my shorts, now you don't like this?"

"First of all, it was below freezing and you were wearing basketball shorts outside; second of all, they don't leave much to the imagination. And third of all, you're wearing the outfit I put together for you."

"You really think my shorts show off my junk that much?"

"Seriously?" I snapped. "Is that all you got out of that?"

He laughed. "No, I heard you. I was just messing with you."

"One of the many things you do well," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," I sighed, glancing at the café and realizing the impossibility of this meeting. "Look…we're not gonna be able to go anywhere to talk—people will recognize me immediately."

"I thought SPD had a law against people paparazzi-ing you?"

"No, it's only if they endanger me or themselves while I'm on ranger business. This, unfortunately, doesn't count."

"I see," he said, nodding slowly and fixing me with his stupid crystal eyes. "Well…we could just talk in the car."

"No," I immediately said. "We can't just park somewhere, and I don't like arguing while I'm driving. It's not safe."

"Ah…" he mumbled. "Well…I guess you can take me home, then."

I chewed my lip nervously. There was an alternative. I could finish this whole thing tonight, I knew I could. As long as there were no distractions, I could "save the friendship" as Dustin had so strongly encouraged me.

"You could…um…you could come to my hotel, if you want," I said lowly.

I knew he was rejoicing on the inside when his only reply was; "Yeah, that works."

First of all, if Aaron took longer than 2 seconds to answer something, he was having to think out his response. And if Aaron had to think out his response, it usually meant he was sidetracked with trying to lie or understate his response.

"It's big enough to where if you want to sleep there, you can sleep out in the living room."

"Out in the living room? What do you mean?" he asked.

Oh, yeah. I forgot that he didn't know about my promotion at SPD. He didn't know that they were rooming me in presidential suites with fancy room service and lavish towels. He didn't know anything about me anymore.

"You'll see," I replied evenly.

For the most part, the car remained quiet. I turned the radio on after a few minutes and we sat in silence. The one thing I loved about Aaron—or used to love—was that he could just be quiet. He didn't need constant conversation. He didn't need to know what I was thinking at every second. He could just appreciate the silence. Even when it was awkward.

Eventually, he fell asleep. It was a good hour drive from the café to my hotel in LA, and I was less than pleased at the prospect of paparazzi surrounding my entrance. I'd already been yelled at three times for using the teleportation system to escape fans. Fame was like this sick and twisted love-hate relationship for me. I reveled in the limelight—I had always wanted my name to be in the history books and longed for recognition long after death. It was a complex I knew I had to deal with, but it was me. It was a constant drive. Some people considered it attention-whorish. It wasn't that. I didn't crave attention. I craved the ability to affect millions and millions of people.

Signing up with SPD definitely got the trick done. I had never ever considered myself good-looking. I knew I wasn't hideous, but I never felt attractive. Ever. I always felt too skinny, or too small, or too awkward—or just not enough of something else. And then Aaron changed that in me. I figured it started with Amy, but Aaron really made me feel one of a kind. And then I realized I was. So was everyone. But just that more-than-obvious fact changed my entire outlook on life. I gave my all in my rangering, and when the world wasn't being defended, it was being entertained. By me.

I didn't run into my first roadblock with fame until I was brought into the higher-ups of SPD. I was laughed at, treated like a fool, and made to feel insecure again. I was a "pop-star-turned-superhero." I never heard the end of it.

Did I intend to sing my enemies to death? Did I have dance competitions with Mesomorph? Did my pop-star partying make me late for important meetings or training sessions?

It never ended. I honestly thought no one would be able to hate me. I mean, I was saving the world, but I was a normal 20 year-old aside from that. I sacrificed the parties, the college experience, the rites of passage into adulthood; and then proceeded to get lost in the eternal void created from adolescence, superstardom, adulthood, and defender of the planet Earth.

But if I thought I had it bad, it was even worse for Grace. I was the more experienced in Ranger Affairs, but Grace got the media. Hard. Powerful women were always popular. Whether that popularity was negative or positive varied on who you asked.

But none of that mattered to me. I had the confidence I needed to shrug it off. I stood up for myself when necessary, and that was that. Because when it came down to it, I saw the bigger picture. I saw a grander scheme of things—like I could see the future clear as day. I felt invincible.

I was trying to do the same thing with Aaron. I always tried to. Before we broke up, the fame had taken control of my life. I never had time to see him or talk to him; I was always mandated to report to a gala, or give a pep talk to a group of junior cadets, or type a 20-page paper on the importance of Intergalactic Policy. And for some reason, he didn't understand that.

"Hey," I said to Aaron gruffly. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hey, Aaron!"

"Huh?" he slurred, his eyes shooting open as he sat up straight.

I tried not to laugh. "We're here."

"Oh, okay," he said as he stretched. "How long was I out?"

"About 45 minutes. Traffic was a bitch on the 101."

"When isn't it?" he chuckled.

I had the car parked and glided as quickly as possible into the hotel. If I was lucky, there were only a few pictures. Maybe twenty or so. If I was lucky. Thankfully, it was the holiday season and people were actually home with their families.

"Evening, Mr. Adams," I was greeted warmly by the doorman.

"Hey, Jack," I replied, then nodded to Aaron. "Aaron, Jack; Jack, Aaron."

"Pleasure, sir," Jack replied.

"You too," Aaron said back awkwardly.

We made our way to the elevator and waited silently for it to take us up to the top floor.

"Promise you won't say anything," I said to him.

"Huh?"

"Don't give me shit, alright?"

"Oh…kay…?"

I heard the door ding and its doors swooshed open to reveal the entrance of my room.

"Wow," he admired, staring at the room.

"Yeah, like I said; don't say anything."

"Right."

"Coffee?" I asked him, changing the topic as I shrugged off my leather jacket.

"Sure," he replied, shivering slightly. It had gotten noticeably colder since we left Reefside, Orange County, but I hadn't really paid it much attention. I was used to cold weather.

"So," he sighed, "who gets to start?"

I stared back at him.

"Alright, I will."

I finished starting the coffee and stepped back to lean against the counter. "I'm listening."

"Remember when you left to Chicago and you told me not to worry? I didn't. I tried not to. I kept myself busy constantly—I was always hanging out with people left and right at LCU, I was brushing up on my Eyr duties, and taking on more classes than I really should have. But I did it so I wouldn't be worried about you. And at first, it worked. But then I realized I never had time to talk to you. To see what you were up to. To just tell you I missed you or something. It sucked. And so I tried harder, but then you started your SPD thing. And everything just fell apart. I mean, I know you say you were changing and I had to accept it. But I mean…if you kept changing…you wouldn't actually be there. And that's what I was afraid of. I thought you had let the fame and power go to your head."

"So you cheated on me?" I cut him off.

"No," he replied boldly, "that wasn't why. When you joined SPD, you blocked me out. The world saw you more than I did. The public got you more than I did. You're an underwear model, and a cologne model, and a Gatorade model, and a car model, and a singer, and a dancer, and an artist, and all these other things. But I always thought of you like that. I always saw the spark in you. And it was like you forgot that. To me, it was like I wasn't good enough—like I didn't give you the attention the world did. It made me feel like shit."

"I never forgot that! I was doing what you told me to do; I was fulfilling my potential. You always told me to live up to my dreams because I could change the world!" I argued back. "You and my mom were the only people in the world who ever told me that. And now that I actually do it, you get pissed at me for it?"

"Patrick, that's not it," he said back, his voice already growing agitated. "You made me feel unwanted. Unneeded."

"So you wanted me to boost your ego?"

"Stop being a dick!" he snapped back, his gestured hand flexed and tense. "You wanted to talk, so listen."

I had to admit, I was shocked. It was rare that Aaron stood up to me. I usually won with him. I usually bulldozed his argument into pieces and then served him the pieces. But he was firm and adamant this time, refusing to succumb to my intense anger. I was impressed.

For a second, it made me want him again. Just for a second.

"Fine, go on."

"You used to say I used sex as an excuse to not talk about things, but it wasn't that. Sex for me is different than it is for you. Sex lets me communicate with you in ways I didn't even know were possible—way beyond the physical. But then I noticed that, for you, it was getting less emotional. I felt your feelings for me. Every other time I felt your feelings, you always saw me as pretty much perfect. And then, towards the end…I was just there. There was no bond. It was just sex."

I had no response.

He was right. I had never looked at it so intricately, though I should have. In one of my freshman level classes on Introduction to Eltarian Culture, we discussed the use of sex among Eltarians. For them, it was different. It wasn't taboo, it wasn't frowned upon; it was the interchanging between two souls. They quite literally felt their partners' feelings, upping the importance of monogamy. But somehow, I'd lost my passion for Aaron. I had let it be drown out by my motivation.

"I never expected you to put me before your future, Patrick," Aaron continued softly, his Northern Light eyes trying to convey what he really felt. "I just didn't expect you to put your career before us."

"Okay," I said, realizing my throat had grown incredibly dry and sore, like I was sick. "So…I fucked up. But why didn't you just try talking to me like this?"

"Because I didn't know how! Every time I mentioned it, you got pissed about it and didn't want to talk about it. So I tried to…you know…find out what you were feeling. And I was just blocked out. And I thought maybe it was my own fault. I thought maybe it was because of my autism or something. But then I just started to realize on my own that it was you shutting me out. And I was pissed. It hurt so fucking bad, dude. It was worse than breaking up with me, because it just felt like you were keeping me around because you had to…not because you wanted to. And that's how I've felt my entire life. Ever since I was born. I just never thought you'd make me feel that way."

I remained speechless. The coffee had been done for a while now, but neither of us were making a move to get it.

"I know it was wrong to look for attention from other people, but I only hit on girls because they'd hit on me back and it didn't do anything. I knew I wasn't gonna go home with them, so it was fine. That was how I saw it. But then Josh…Josh fucked my head up so bad."

I raised an eyebrow.

"It was just like…I dunno…he knew the exact way I was feeling about you—unwanted. He worshipped me, pretty much, but felt like there was nothing he could do to get me. And…I felt bad. And I wanted to be wanted. And…I know it's fucking stupid, I know…"

He was clearly frustrated shown by the way he was behaving. He was talking more with his hands than I'd ever seen him do, and he kept tensing and relaxing over and over. I saw how important this was. How important I was. I saw the impact I had on the world compact itself into just one man. And I felt so torn between ecstatic and angry.

Aaron cleared his throat and pressed on. "But I want you to know that I hated every second of every minute of it. I hated myself so much for it that I took it out on his body. And I just completely lost control. It was like I just didn't give a fuck about anything anymore."

It felt like eons before I could form a sentence.

"I think…I think we both fucked up equally. I mean…I never realized that I was treating our relationship like a job and my job like a relationship; I mean, it was my job, and I had to do it. But…I let my love for it replace my feelings for you…and…I'm sorry."

He looked up from the barstool he'd been sitting on and let his eyes linger on my own. "I've been sorry for the past 9 months."

I glared at him.

"But, in all seriousness…I am really sorry. I…I don't know how I can make you understand what I felt—what I am feeling right now."

I was close to him, now—only about a foot away. I had opted for leaning against the bar, and we were separated only by the countertop. I felt so close but so far away from him at the same time. Was this really a good idea? Did I really want to let Aaron back into my life?

Before I could decide, Aaron made up my mind for me.

I should have expected it, but I was too caught up in my own confliction that I had completely let my guard down and let him close the gap between our mouths. His lips were on mine before I even had time to process that he moved.

For some reason, it was like I had forgotten what it was like to be kissed.

I mean, I had gone out on a few dates after breaking up with Aaron. There were a few guys, a couple girls…but there was no spark. No chemistry. Nothing. They were just there.

And no one really quite knew how to kiss like Aaron. It had taken me a couple weeks to teach him, but once I did…it was smooth sailing from there on.

He started tentatively, cautiously—waiting for me to freak out and push him away like he knew I would. Like I knew I would. But I didn't. I softened and pushed my walls away. I could do this. I could forgive him. I had to, right? I mean…after everything we'd said and done, there was no way I could have just ignored my feelings and shunned him.

So I slowly kissed back.

Even though he said he didn't know how, Aaron knew exactly how to make me understand what he felt—what he was feeling.

We both did.

—54—

Aaron was already back in the room by the time I got back from my session. His feet were propped up and he was holding a holo-screen in front of his face, no doubt reading battle strategies and legal documents.

I shut the door and emptied my pockets, tossing the contents on a table cautiously and tentatively walking toward him.

"Hey."

He looked up, his face unreadable. "Hey."

I cleared my throat nervously. "So uh…I talked to Jay."

He nodded, setting down the holo-screen. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to go off like I did."

"It's okay," I cut him off, "I…I needed it. Deserved it, actually. And…you were right. I need to focus. And I need to get rid of all these feelings. Or move past them."

He squinted somewhat, no doubt sensing the difference in my aura—my emotional state.

"I was with Nike for nine-and-a-half hours."

"Doing what?"

"Moving on," I said simply. "It's…it's not gonna be easy. I have to keep up the sessions for about a month or so, but I moved past a lot of stuff." I couldn't hide my smile now, suddenly relieved at how quickly the tension with him dissipated. "And look!" I stood up and pulled up my shirt, showing him my healed and smoothed skin around my abdomen. "No more incisions."

He frowned, confused no doubt. "But…but how?"

"Doctor Adekandar said I was pretty much keeping them there. Since my mind was so used to them being there and I was stuck in this rut, my psychic field was actually creating symptoms similar to the ones I thought I had. But…I'm fine now."

"I'm still confused. You didn't answer how you healed so quickly. What the hell did you do in your session with Nike?" Then his eyes widened as he thought about it. "Oh God! You had a session with my aunt?"

I fought the grin tugging at my mouth as I answered him. "Yeah…" I said slowly, "We had to delve into everything. We went all the way back to the source of my problems. Back to when my mom died and I bonded with Zeta. Then we worked on my enrollment in SPD and my 'rise to fame' as she called it. We touched on the Josh thing, and then focused primarily on the night before you left for Eltar, since that seems to be giving me the worst nightmares so far."

His face was bright red now as he remembered each chapter of our relationship like it was yesterday. "Awesome. Now my aunt has seen everything."

I laughed all out now, unable to retain it any longer. "Don't worry, she blurred a lot of things that she didn't need to see. She is the best telepath on the planet, after all. She knows where to draw the line. Besides, I'm pretty sure she wanted to not see things even more so than you or I wanted her not to."

I could almost see the relief wash over him. "Thank God…" He rolled out of bed and looked at me properly, his eyes seeming to analyze me altogether.

"What?" I wondered curiously.

"Nothing," he responded softly, "you just look different. You look like the old you. You look happy."

"Well I'm glad I'm making progress. It's not as easy as it used to be. Back in our wild and crazy days."

He laughed now, pulling me to the bed and lying next to me. "We never realized how good we had it, did we?"

"Not at all," I answered back.

"I hope you don't mind, but I was reading your logs—the ones you pretty much turned into a story: was I really that bad? Did I really almost cry when we kissed for the first time?"

I had to admit, I found it surprising that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to read over something I'd written years ago and just never stopped writing. Somehow, I found the words to answer, mixed in with faint laughter. "Yes, yes you did."

"God, I was so scared back then."

"It seems like a whole different life, doesn't it?"

He pulled me close in his arms as he nodded his head. "I really am sorry—about flipping out and about not understanding why you were upset about me not sleeping as long as you. Sometimes I…sometimes I just forget. And I get restless."

"You don't have to apologize," I said, shaking my head and feeling my voice soften immediately. "It's just…it's weird. You transformed into this…'super alien' and…I dunno. It's harder than it used to be. I really never realized how good we had it when we were younger."

He laughed, my back vibrating from the sound. "Those were the days—back when we were young, and wild, and free."

"We had no idea what we were getting into," I laughed. "I swear you freaked out over the smallest things."

"What? Like what?"

"I seem to remember a certain someone being terrified of having sex because he was afraid he'd turn into an 'Eltarian sex machine.'"

"Hey! That was a legitimate concern!"

"Okay, fine—do you remember how cute and nervous you were for our first official date?"

Now he caved. "Oh, God…that I do remember. I thought I was gonna barf at any given point."

"Well, thank you for not spraying bile all over me. Cuz I'm pretty sure I would've killed you. Powers or not."

"Well I must've done something right, huh? You stuck around."

I smiled, turning to look up at him. "There is one thing you do particularly well."

He looked slightly confused at first, but then his mind put the pieces together: me being healed, our current position…it didn't take him long to figure out what I was talking about.

"A-are you sure?"

"Stop asking questions."