Chapter Forty-one

In Your Dreams

Kira sat in the lobby of the hotel, a lemon-yellow beach towel slung over her shoulders, her hair still damp from the morning swim she had taken. Adjusting her towel, then her bikini top, she reached for her apple juice and took a delicate sip. Sighing contentedly, she gazed out at the citrine-stained morning sky.

"Kira! KIR-RAH!"

Jumping up at the sound of his voice, Kira looked towards the elevator and broke into a brilliant, sunny smile, running towards him. "Conner!"

Conner caught Kira in his arms and twirled her around. Kira shrieked, then giggled. "Kira! I missed you!" he gushed.

"I missed you, too," Kira sighed as Conner set her down, but didn't release her. "These nights apart are driving me insane!"

"I know, but what can we do? With Dr. O around, and you in another room…"

"I don't know how long I can stand it." Kira burrowed closer to Conner's bare chest. "It's awful… Trent keeps… making advances…"

"It's okay, baby," Conner cooed soothingly, rubbing the small of her back. "They'll all realize who you're meant for soon enough."

Kira smiled up at him, feeling better. "What would I do without you?" Leaning up, Kira parted her lips slightly. Conner half-smiled, dipped his head and—

Kira's eyes, bloodshot from a poor night's sleep, snapped open in horror. What the hell?

"Where did that come from?" she whimpered, utterly mortified at the demented dream her subconscious had somehow managed to torture her with. There were no words, no words to express… Conner! UGH!

She was backed against the wall, no way out. To her left was a gargantuan vaulting horse, to her right was the gigantic hand of her Pink Power Suit, which filled almost the entire room. And… there was him. Ah, yes, him. With those gleaming chocolate nut-brown eyes, that gorgeous sleek chocolate brown hair that she itched to run her hands through, those brilliant mother-of-pearl teeth, that perfect alabaster-white skin and that feline grace that graced his graceful body gracefully. To her, he walked, intent, prowling, devilish, glowing slightly red, intense, like a falcon stalking its prey, clad in only a pair of orange swimming trunks and a green tweed teacher's jacket. She shivered in anticipation and… something else… as he came to a stop before her, looking intense. Or perhaps just tense.

"Why? Why did you leave me, Kimberly Ann Hart? The lo—like I bare you, Kimberly Ann Hart, is a distance, a big one. Was the Atlantic Ocean so shiny? Was it the palm trees with their coconuts and green husks, Kimberly Ann Hart? Or did you secretly run off secretly with a guy named Guido and drink margaritas secretly all day long on some secret island in the South Pacific secretly?"

A giant pan-crust pepperoni-and-sausage pizza with extra cheese rumbled past, crushing the Pink Power Ranger suit like an egg. As egg yolk and white oozed out, dozens of hot fudges sundaes with nuts and whipped cream leapt out wearing red shoes and began Irish line dancing. "Do you need to know the real reason, Thomas James Oliver, PhD?" Kimberly jumbled out. "Fine!" Kimberly spun-leapt into the air, launching a series of super-fast kicks and a girlish to the two-story white door that materialized behind her previous position. The hot fudge sundaes screamed in terror as the door and walls dissolved with an animalistic rumble, letting loose a cascade of pink clothes, tie-dyed shoes, gold and diamond jewelry, and a really huge mauve chair. "Clothes!" Kimberly spread her arms over her domain, pink crane wings sprouting from her back. "Shopping!" With that, Kimberly cut loose with a loud peal of terrifying, maniacal laughter, sounding suspiciously like Tommy's evil Green laugh.

All feelings of triumph evaporated, however, when she realized Tommy was not resurfacing; it hadn't even occurred to her that he wouldn't. Fear gripping her so strongly that she became nauseated, Kimberly piloted herself down towards the mountain of sundry, but never seemed to get any closer. "Tommy? Tommy! TOMMY! You can't die; you're the falcon! Who else is going to rescue me when I corner myself fighting and monster and scream instead of fighting my way out?" Kimberly paused and shook her head. "Tommy! You can't die like this!"

Suddenly, a muffled voice answered her, a definite undertone of annoyance lacing the reply. "Die? Ha! A nuclear bomb going off in my living room would somehow just give me a headache." Kimberly giggled despite herself as Tommy continued. "You should use more fabric softener; it's really uncomfortable under here."

Kimberly cracked open an eye and found herself looking at the back of Trini's head. Groaning, she rolled over and sat up, pulling the covers off her sweaty legs. Her head felt like lead from too little sleep, and she glared balefully at the pile of food remains and cutlery left over from the previous night. "Okay," Kimberly muttered to herself, getting up and heading for the bathroom, kicking aside an empty pizza box. "No more of that stuff before bed. Ever."

Sighing, Kimberly headed into the bathroom and began to brush her teeth… only to let out a yelp of surprise as Kira charged in, shoved her out, and slammed and locked the door. Seconds later, the shower could be heard, turned on full-blast.

Confused, Kimberly pulled her toothbrush from her mouth and knocked on the door. "Kira? Kira, you okay?" No answer. "Is something wrong?"

"Must cleanse," Kira wailed. "Must cleanse the filth that is Conner and the disease he transmits to those in his company! MUST CLEANSE! Tell Trini I'm using her body wash! Oh, GOD!"

"Oh-kay," Kimberly muttered. Great. She really needed a shower. She wanted to look good today. If Trini was plotting some Yellow-tinged evil scheme, she needed to look her best. Besides, Kimberly had already planned her outfit, and it wouldn't be nearly as cool if she smelled bad or had flat hair.

Kimberly went over the dresser, picking out today's makeup, hoping Kira would be done by the time Kimberly got everything assembled. Eye shadow, that was a must. Lip gloss, shiny and pale… where had her favorite blush gone? Trini had said to wear walking shoes, too, which narrowed Kimberly's choices down to three, none of which she'd originally planned for today…

It took a long time to gather her arsenal… but when she finished, Kira still wasn't coming out of the shower. Kimberly made sure the makeup she'd be wearing today was in a separate pile and went to organize her purse. Suntan oil, she'd need that… and her portable fan, because if they were walking and not going to the mall they'd probably be outdoors… sunglasses… she'd better get a spare pack of gum out of the suitcase, too…

Twenty minutes later, Kimberly was done, and yet the shower blasted on. Kimberly sighed, now bored. She was not going to get dressed without a shower. She was icky. She hadn't even washed off yesterday's hair and cosmetic products from when they'd been making each other over after that whole debacle with Tommy.

"Tommy," Kimberly muttered. Knowing him, he'd be spending at least part of the day without a shirt. Again. (Granted, yesterday had been her fault, but still. She could almost swear he was doing it on purpose.) Yes, he would wander around doing that "I didn't notice I was hot" thing while she looked like a troll from lack of hygiene. Perfect. "God, I need a shower," she moaned. "And I really should shave my legs…"

Kimberly looked over at her travel bag. In an effort to keep the three of them from running out of counter and shelf space in the bathroom, Kimberly had returned most of her shower necessities to her bag; they were sealed in plastic to keep them from ruining the travel bag, and she had the most stuff, so it made sense.

"If I only had a shower," Kimberly groaned, glaring at the bathroom door. Surely Kira would come out… eventually… though that wild look in her eyes… what was wrong with her, anyway? Tommy would know…

Tommy has a shower.

Kimberly's eyes widened at this unbidden thought. She snorted. Yeah, right, like he'd let me use his shower… but Zack might. I mean, maybe I could slip in and out without waking Tommy up… Zack would let me. He would.

Kimberly picked up her outfit, deciding she might as well shoot for it before she lost her nerve. She needed a shower. Bad. Besides, even if Tommy answered the door and said no, it wasn't the end of the world. She'd be embarrassed, yeah, but embarrassment didn't kill. Tommy was a monument to that.

Kimberly paused, frowned, and dropped her travel bag, reaching for her makeup. No way could she go ask to borrow Tommy's shower while looking like this.

Trent awoke with his usual suddenness and sat up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes just as a voice greeted him. "Trent," it announced sullenly, followed closely by one of Conner's wall-rattling snores. "Have a nice sleep?"

Sighing, Trent looked over at Ethan, who was curled up into a ball on his cot, sulking. "Have you been up all night again?"

"How the hell can you sleep through that noise?" Ethan demanded angrily, as if it was also Trent's fault that Ethan was losing sleep.

Shrugging, Trent pulled the covers off himself. "I guess I'm just able to deal with things better."

"I guess having a temporarily-evil father does that to people," Ethan replied darkly, still glaring at Conner.

"…Yeah," Trent said, somewhat annoyed. He stood and made for the bathroom.

"Do you think anyone would care if I made him stop breathing permanently?"

"I think the real question is, is it worth it?"

Ethan frowned at this. As the bathroom door clicked shut, Ethan threw his last sock at Conner's head.

Kimberly walked down the hall, nervous as hell. She'd had to forgo eye shadow and blush, as she didn't want anyone to notice that she was wearing makeup, but she had kept the foundation, mascara and lip gloss. Today's selected makeup was now tucked into her bag with her toiletries, and her outfit for the day was in one hand while she tried to finish brushing her teeth with the other. Unfortunately, the hairdryer was in the bathroom, so she'd have to wrap a towel around her head and fix her hair once she got back to the room, but that wouldn't be too bad. She hoped.

Kimberly looked down at herself and sighed. Her pajamas were cute, at least. Pink silk shorts and spaghetti-strapped top. Not a lot of cleavage, but enough. Frowning, she rolled the waistband of her shorts up for a third time, grimacing as she reluctantly swallowed another mouthful of toothpaste. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand to knock… then dropped it to fish in her bag for her blue hand mirror (ironically, one Tommy had won for her at a carnival roughly ten years ago) and double-checking her reflection. Satisfied, she took another steadying breath, forced a smile and tapped a cheery tune on Tommy and Zack's door.

A loud knock at the door that sounded suspiciously like the old Goldfish crackers jingle dragged Tommy out of a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep. Letting out a groan, he let himself fall out of bed, pulling himself back up via the nightstand. He spared a glare for Zack, who was now back in the room and dead asleep despite the knocking. This reminded him of his vow to wear a shirt at all times from now on; plucking a random shirt from the floor and pulling it on inside-out, he finally staggered to the door and opened it. "Wha…?"

His word simply died in his throat and his sleep-fogged brain snapped instantly to alertness and moved on to pure shock. Of all people, Kimberly stood before him, clad in her pink silk tank top and pajama shorts (he was pretty sure the shorts had been longer last night), toothbrush in her mouth and a spare change of clothes in her hands, an overnight bag over her shoulder. Some dim part of him tried to reason out this phenomenon, but Tommy was long gone by this point, not even realizing he was looking her up and down. Slowly.

Kimberly blushed faintly and shifted uncomfortably, feeling far too underdressed and really wishing Tommy wouldn't look at her like that. Well, kind of. Damn it, why did Zack have to be such a heavy sleeper? Clearing her throat, Kimberly pulled her toothbrush from her mouth and spoke. "Uh… hey, Tommy."

This seemed to snap Tommy back to some form of reality and he suddenly averted his eyes from Kimberly's long, bare, slender, athletic legs to the wall far, far behind her. "Kimberly. Uh… good morning."

Kimberly paused and looked behind herself to see what had Tommy's interest all of a sudden. Turning back, she now found him studying the doorframe. Stifling a giggle, she took a deep breath and asked, "Can I use your shower?"

"……Er…" Tommy felt another fog creeping into his head. "Something wrong with the shower in your room?"

"No, no, it's working fine."

"You sure? I can call room service." Tommy cringed and shook his head. "I mean, maintenance."

Kimberly grinned. "No… it's fine, it's just… Kira's been in there for a really long time and refuses to come out. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she just yelled something about washing off the filth that is the disease of Conner." Kimberly paused, grin dropping off her face. "Um… you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"I'm not privileged with the knowledge of Kira's shower rituals involving Conner." Tommy grimaced. His mind was in far too bad a place right now; it was downright cruel of her to throw that question in at the moment, even if she was just obviously curious. "Nor do I want to be."

Clearing her throat yet again, Kimberly continued. "So… can I? Use your shower, I mean."

There was an extremely long pause. Kimberly began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep standing up. When his eyes narrowed, she had to stifle a sigh of relief… and then she had to stifle a glare as she wondered what he'd been thinking about during the four-minute silence.

Tommy looked at the pile of clothes in her hand. "Is that my shirt?" he demanded.

"No," she said plainly, "it's my shirt." Kimberly knew she should feel a pang of guilt, but the long silence he'd indulged in made her instinctively feel they were even.

Tommy glowered at her briefly before realizing it was turning into another stare. He jerked his gaze back to the doorframe, wondering why it was that even though he'd spent the past few days completely ignoring all of his major problems with Kimberly, she kept creating new ones for him. Granted, these problems were sometimes more enjoyable, but still.

Kimberly decided it was time to play the girl card. She tilted her head to the side and injected a pleading note of cuteness into her voice. "So… can I use your shower?" she repeated. "Please?" she added plaintively.

Tommy fought off a shiver and sighed heavily in defeat. He opened the door wider. "Fine. Go. Before I change my mind."

Kimberly started into the room, then paused. "If I'm already in the shower, and you change your mind then, what exactly is your plan for—?"

Tommy looked at her wretchedly. "Just… just go."

"Never mind," Kimberly said with false brightness, struggling not to laugh as she brushed past him.

Tommy remained in the doorway, still staring blankly out into the hall, his grip on the doorknob tightening painfully. It was going to be a long, long day.

Conner awoke, feeling refreshed. He brushed aside the random objects littering the bed and stood up, stretching.

"Look Trent, the Human Saw awakens," Ethan snipped.

Shaking his head, Trent began lacing one of his shoes. "Ethan, man, you should invest in earplugs."

"You couldn't… you… he…" Ethan squelched. "Damn it, why does everything happen to me?"

"Tutenhawken's curse, I guess," Trent replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at Ethan as Conner crossed to the window and threw open the curtains.

"It's a beautiful day!" Conner breathed deeply as Ethan edged away from the light threatening his person. "I don't care what either of you say—"

"Do you ever, you, you… human catastrophe!" Ethan snapped.

Trent looked at Ethan. "Get over it already, man."

"Shut up, Trent!"

"Hey, don't get mad at me just because you have no coping skills. Quit victimizing yourself, you drama queen."

Ethan glared. "I do NOT victimize myself, you psychotic reformed villain! I hear pills can be used to suppress your sort of mania, by the way!"

"But then I'd lose my artistic edge," Trent replied sarcastically, pretending to be wounded.

"Today's gonna be a good day!" Conner announced loudly, oblivious to the argument. He strode towards the bathroom, grinning happily. "I can feel it!"

Just as Conner finished his statement, Kira burst in through the door that Trent had habitually propped open some time ago. She jerked her head from side to side, looking around wildly for something… or someone. Her frantic gaze turned black and poisonous as she spotted Conner. With a leap that would have made the best of dancers envious, Kira lifted the partially-full forty-fluid-ounce bottle of conditioner and brought it down on Conner's head with the strength of, say, a Yellow Ranger. Conner went down without so much as a surprised gasp. Dropping her weapon with a loud thud, Kira surveyed the room again, this time her gaze falling on Trent.

Trent, not sure if Kira was in a "me-hate-Conner mood" or a "me-hate-everyone mood," backed reflexively into the headboard as Kira stalked towards him. Ethan made to dive under Trent's bed and succeeded only in colliding with the box spring; he cursed loudly before continuing his scramble for cover.

Looming over an understandably worried Trent, Kira stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide something. Then, without further warning, she seized his face in her hands and kissed him, hard. To say Trent was surprised would have been a vast understatement. Ethan, who had a near-perfect view of the action from the mirror, sighed and closed his eyes.

Trent managed to come down out of his shock enough to pull Kira closer. It wasn't as if they had never kissed—extremely the contrary—usually, however, they weren't in plain sight of anyone who happened to walk by, and Ethan wasn't under the bed… well, as far as he could remember, which he couldn't do all too well right now. So, something was going on, and he didn't understand what, but he could deal with that. He could cope. Whoo! Boy, could he cope…

Finally, Kira drew back, dropping her hands from Trent's face to his shoulders. A somewhat-dazed Trent stared up at her as she appeared to be puzzling something out. "I tasted chocolate. What did you have that was chocolate?" Kira demanded.

"Um…" Trent paused. "Conner hid my toothpaste. Think he's stolen Ethan's, too."

"Damn it," Ethan muttered from under the bed.

Kira shook Trent by the shoulders, just enough to startle him mostly back to reality. "Focus! What did you have that was chocolate?"

"It was the toothpaste, I swear!" Trent spluttered wildly. "I had to use Conner's." Kira stared at him for a moment. Then, without warning, she walked over to Conner, kicked him violently, and blew out of the room, leaving behind a very confused Trent, an unconscious and bruised Conner, and a cowering, annoyed Ethan.

"What in the world was that about?" Ethan's voice came, slightly muffled from the carpet.

"I don't know. I wouldn't mind if it happened more often, though. That was fun."

"Shut up, Trent."

Trini lounged back in her golden thrown, sinking deep into the plush yellow cushions. Taking up a strawberry from a nearby plate, she took a bite and smiled wickedly to herself. Her people—peasants, courtiers, gentlemen and nobleman—moved in tandem before, placing gifts, prayers and kisses at her feet, praising her benevolent and awesome rule as their Queen of Power.

Out of nowhere, a handmaiden that looked suspiciously like Zack appeared and approached the throne. She whispered to Her Majesty that it was three in the afternoon. Rising from her throne, Trini bid farewell to her subjects for the day, then suddenly found herself in another chamber. It was hung with every conceivable shade of red, and there were no visible doors. There was a small window above where a man lay, however. The man lounged comfortably on a bed of carmine-colored velvet, satin, silk and dyed fur. Under his back was a red satin pillow with yellow tassels, and a scarlet coverlet was the only thing that protected his modesty. Trini crossed the room, kneeling onto the vermillion bed beside her love slave.

"Time again, finally?" Jason kissed Trini on the neck. "It's an eternity every time I have to wait for you." He smiled. "I had this made for us." Reaching inside the pillow, he pulled out a hot fudge sundae, heavy on the whipped cream and drew a finger across the rim of the glass enticingly. Trini leaned forward, dipping her fingers into the ice cream and drew them across Jason's muscular chest—

Trini suddenly found herself shaken, rather violently, awake. Her eyes flew open as she yelled indignantly, swatting at the hand on her shoulder. Realizing abruptly just who was shaking her, Trini ripped a pillow from the bed and smacked Tommy across the face with it. "Tommy! Get the hell out!"

"Trini!" Tommy attempted to guard against the madly-swinging pillow. "You gotta—"

"Help? No, Tommy!" She swung the pillow at him, herding him back towards the door and out of the room. "I was just woken up, by you, from a really, really, really good dream! Have a problem? Work it out yourself for once!" She paused upon seeing the closed door, which Tommy had backed into. "How did you get in?" she asked darkly, daring him to answer.

"The bal—"

"Get out! GET OUT! Get out before I get ANGRY!"

With a pathetic yelp, Tommy bolted from the room, Trini chasing him out the door so she could slam it behind him. Growling in annoyance, she also went to the balcony door and locked it as well. Clutching her pillow to her chest, she felt like sobbing in frustration. She might not be whining like Jason, but the time apart was driving her mad, too. Then an idea clicked on in her head. There was no reason she couldn't, say, reenact her (sadly interrupted) dream… Calmer and much happier now, Trini left the pillow behind and sauntered to the bathroom for a cold shower. Really, it was good to be queen…

Trini pulled open the bathroom door and found herself overwhelmed by thick steam billowing out into the bedroom. "Ugh!" she groaned, coughing. "Who turned the bathroom into a sauna?"

End Notes: Yes, we know the dreams sound like really bad romance novels on crack. They're supposed to.

Bad news—Freyja's computer ate a lot of the things she wrote. So… our update time will be slowing down. Not much, but a significant amount. We have to re-write most of that stuff.

We're trying to figure out where to put Ashley's wedding into the fic. It's Freyja's baby. (To give you an indication of what this means, she wrote the dreams and Jason's freak-out, up to the sports department part.) So it should be awesome. Trouble is, all she had just got erased, and things are picking up quickly. But we will put it in eventually. Yes, sir.

Just a reminder—if you have a question or something that you want us to respond to, feel free to email or PM me, or leave a review. If you leave a signed review, I'll reply through this site's review system. If you leave an unsigned/anonymous review, PLEASE leave me an email so I can reply. From what I understand, we're not supposed to reply within the chapters.

Stay tuned—we've got chainsaws, flashbacks, Bulk and Skull, confusion, romance, and a hell of a lot of freak accidents.