Chapter Sixty-six

The Green Dream

The guys spent over an hour rehashing their victory and working their way through the supply of beer. Eventually, however, Billy started yawning, and Adam brought up the fact that he had to go back to Los Angeles in the morning for a meeting about a new film. The others reluctantly called it a night, sending Billy and Rocky to bunk with Conner, Ethan and Trent. Adam and Zack doubled, up, as did Jason and Tommy. Everyone was asleep by three in the morning, with the exception of Jason.

Jason tossed and turned for a while but simply couldn't shut off his brain. He'd had just enough alcohol to make him want more, and part of him was still high on the days' events. He was surprised that Tommy had managed to get to sleep so easily—but, then, Tommy had developed amazing skills when it came to sleeping on demand after all that time in college. Zack had always been a heavy sleeper, and the amount of traveling required by Adam's profession had given him the ability to doze off anytime, anywhere.

For Jason, however, sleep didn't come so easily. He didn't travel often, especially not overnight. He was used to a regular sleep schedule and his own bed with his wife beside him. Sighing, Jason threw back the covers and pulled his shoes out from under the bed, figuring he'd go wander the corridors and burn off some excess energy. He grabbed the room key on the nightstand and slipped out, careful not to wake the others.

It didn't take him too long to find the vending area. He spent a while playing with the ice machine, seeing just how long one could hold down the button before the ice actually came out, then creating his own little tune with the ice machine's growling hum by pushing the button rhythmically. This, unfortunately, didn't end well; after covering the vending area in ice, he headed down to the vending machines on the fifth floor, put a dollar in the pop machine, and pressed all the buttons simultaneously with his forearm just to see what would happen. As it turned out, the machine made an angry whirring noise that just got louder and louder until he finally counted the dollar a lost cause and ran for it.

The fourth floor was full of teenagers and college-aged kids, most of them drunk and all of them loud. Three guys were trying to figure out how to fill a cooler full of ice without creating a mess or having to dump bucket after bucket into the cooler. Jason helped them devise a system, involving a slide rigged up from machine to cooler using the boxes from empty twelve-packs of beer, for which he was dubbed "Random Heroic Dude" and given a can of Bud Ice. He downed it quickly before extricating himself from the pack and heading to the third floor.

Realizing he was quickly running out of hotel floors, Jason stuck a dollar in the candy machine, figuring it was time to get a snack and have another go at taking a nap before Billy's eye doctor appointment in the morning.

He punched in the proper number-letter combination for a bag of Fritos and waited. The bag moved forward and then stopped, teetering on the edge.

Sighing, Jason grabbed the top of the vending machine, preparing to shake the Fritos loose. True, people shouldn't shake vending machines. Jason, however, wasn't most people. He was a Power Ranger. Ex, but still a Ranger. He had talents. Come to think of it, he was also the target of a higher power with a sick sense of humor.

A vision of a newspaper flashed through his mind, with a picture of a toppled vending machine with Jason's hand visible from underneath one side, and a caption that read "Power Ranger Defeated by Frito-Lay!" and maybe even Carrie's name on the byline. Jason glared at the Fritos, turned, and marched downstairs, figuring he'd ask the girl at the front desk for a refund and then take the elevator back up to the sixth floor.

The moment he came out of the stairwell, Jason stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting on top of the receptionist's desk was none other than Carrie.

Jason wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't expected to see Carrie again until the bustle of Power Rangers Day was over. He certainly hadn't expected to see Carrie in the middle of the night in a hotel, if for no other reason than "middle of the night in a hotel" was the sort of circumstance that could get him murdered by his wife, no matter how random and innocent the encounter might be. He stood there for a long while, trying to make up his mind, until it occurred to him that maybe he should make his decision from inside the safety of the elevator, but unfortunately it started to move and the lighted numbers above the display said the other elevator was up on floor nine; by the time it came back, he'd probably be spotted, and he didn't want to make it seem like he was hiding from Carrie. Taking a deep breath, he headed for the desk.

Carrie was chatting animatedly with the girl behind the counter, whom, if she was the same girl Carrie had called the day of the "Tommy is the wrong Black Ranger" media fiasco, was probably her friend Jen. They were sharing a large order of Chinese takeout, and, as Jason got closer, he realized Carrie's friend was telling her everything she knew about Tommy, Zack, Kimberly, and the Dino Rangers.

"Harriet from first shift has a crush on the Zack guy," Carrie's friend was saying. "Every time I clock in I have to hear that day's newest attempts to catch a glimpse of him. She was all upset when she found out that he's disappeared from the registry. So I guess there was more than one bonus to my deleting his name." She paused to take a bite of teriyaki chicken. "What was the first bonus, anyway?"

"I didn't want the Oliver story going to hell before I got a crack at it," Carrie explained.

"Yeah, so, why'd I delete his friends, too?"

"Because Oliver was pretty active in high school, and so were those two friends. Anyone who looked Oliver up on Google would've found their names, too, and maybe tried to contact them for a quote."

Carrie's friend shook her head. "You are way too good at that, you know. Always thinking about the angles."

Carrie shrugged. "That's my job."

"No, honey, that's you."

Just then, Carrie's friend caught sight of Jason as he approached and she quickly gulped whatever food was in her mouth. "Can I help you, sir?"

Carrie turned to look at him and promptly choked on her fried rice. Jason shifted uncomfortably. "Candy machine ate my dollar," he muttered lamely, hoping Carrie didn't think he'd been eavesdropping.

"Hey," Carrie said quietly.

"Hey, Carrie."

Carrie's friend looked from one to the other curiously. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah. This is, um, a friend of mine," Carrie said. "Jason."

"Cool. I'm Jenny," said Carrie's friend, smiling at him in a somewhat flirtatious manner.

"Nice to meet you," Jason said, waving in a way that showed his wedding ring off. Judging by her grin, Jenny either didn't notice or didn't care. Jason cleared his throat and turned back to Carrie. "I didn't know you hung out here."

"Jenny and I are old friends," Carrie replied. Jason nodded. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, until Carrie cleared her throat. "So… do you want to talk?"

Jason looked over at the elevator. His wife, his friends, and their chaos were only six floors away. "That'd be nice. But not here."

Carrie set down her container of rice and smiled at Jenny. "Hey, um, I'll be back in a few, okay?"

Jenny frowned at her. She wasn't keen on being ditched for a guy after a stressful week working at a booked-solid hotel when her friend had juicy gossip to share.

"You do know he's married, right?" Jenny asked bluntly.

"Jen!" Carrie hissed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jason demanded, affronted.

"Well, he is," Jenny insisted stubbornly.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Jason and I just have some things to talk about. I'll be back in an hour or so, tops."

Jenny scowled. "Fine. But if you're not back soon, I'm eating your share of the Chinese."

"I won't be long," Carrie promised, motioning to Jason to follow her through the patio doors.

The hotel had two wings—the gang was staying in the east wing, while the west held the more luxurious rooms and fancy suites. The two wings formed a V, with the lobby in the middle, so that the patio was a broad triangle with the swimming pool in the center. A wrought-iron gate formed the third wall of the triangle, beyond which was a grassy lawn and then the larger of the hotel's two parking lots.

"Want to sit under the balconies again?" Carrie asked him.

Jason thought about it, but decided it was probably best to sit out in the open. If Trini discovered him missing, she might think to look for him out here, and he'd prefer she saw him chatting with Carrie in a well-lit area as opposed to skulking with Carrie in a shadowy corner. Unfortunately, the pool was twenty-four hours, and late-night partiers were swimming, horse-playing or standing around chatting in small groups. He didn't exactly want any eavesdroppers nearby. Talking to Carrie under the balconies that morning had been much easier; the pool hadn't been busy, everything had been brightly lit, and he'd been twenty feet away from everyone else at all times.

"Is there somewhere else we could go?" Jason asked. "Somewhere… not here?"

Carrie nodded and led him across the patio, through the parking lot and into a small patch of woods. She walked out of sight of anyone in the parking lot, then sat down with her back against a tree. Jason sat against a tree directly across from her. A slightly uncomfortable silence settled over them. Maybe it was the fact that it was night time now, or that there were no pressing emergencies, but conversation wouldn't come readily.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Jason asked finally.

Carrie shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard to know where to start."

Jason grinned. "What's your favorite color?" he joked.

She laughed. "Purple."

"Purple? It's been a long time since I've had a friend whose favorite color was purple."

Carrie snorted. "I'll bet. Yours is red, right?"

"Most of the time. But I have strong ties to black and gold, too. As far as I know, Trey and I were the only Rangers with a fondness for a non-basic color and a basic color from the same power."

"Trey?" Carrie repeated.

Jason nodded. "The other Gold Ranger."

"There were two?"

"Yeah. Trey was an alien who had a problem with… it's a long story. The Gold powers were his, he had a problem that kept him from using them, and I took them on for a while."

Carrie cocked her head to the side. "Why'd you tell me about Trey? You said you wouldn't tell me about anyone I hadn't found out about on my own."

"Trey's different. He's an alien, and from what I understand, he has no concept of secret identities. I'm pretty sure the entire planet of Triforia knows who the Zeo Rangers were."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"On some level, yeah, it worries me. But Trey's a good guy, and I don't think the Triforians are going to emigrate anytime soon."

"Ah." Carrie cleared her throat. "I think I've got the identities of a few more Rangers, by the way."

Jason stared at her. "You what?"

Carrie ignored him. "Rocky DeSantos, Adam Park, Aisha Campbell. Friends of Billy Cranston, Kimberly Hart and Tommy Oliver. Transferred to Angel Grove High shortly before you, Trini Kwan, and Zack Taylor left for Geneva. All three were skilled in martial arts. Katherine Hillard, moved to Angel Grove shortly before Kimberly Hart left for Florida. And of course, my personal favorite, famous pop singer, Tanya Sloan."

Jason fought the urge to wince. The original and Zeo Rangers were one thing. Tanya, who'd magically popped up in America and gone on to become famous, was quite another. "What makes you think—?"
"The signs are easy, once you know what to look for. The fact that you kept switching around is distracting, would probably confuse anyone who didn't know who the original six were. Because I knew you, Trini and Zack left, I looked for the three most obvious people to fill in for you. Same with Kimberly. Tanya Sloan, though, that was fun. World-famous woman, and no one really seems to know much about her before the Zeo Ranger era. And hey, wouldn't you know it, she transferred to Angel Grove High School from a school in Africa that doesn't exist."

"Lot of political unrest in Africa. Her school probably just isn't there anymore," Jason told her. It was what Tanya had always planned to say if anyone asked why there weren't any records of the school Billy had invented when providing her with a few computer records to explain her sudden appearance in California.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Come on; don't crap out on me now. I've done my research. Even talked to a teacher at the high school who remembers there being some funny little moment wherein Tanya's missing parents resurfaced and her foster family had been under the assumption that Tanya was a foreign exchange student."

Jason cringed, then sighed. If Carrie had figured out so much in less than twenty-four hours, there wasn't much point in playing dumb. "Yeah, that was a fun day. I was actually there for that; it was after I became the Gold Ranger."

"How did that even happen?" Carrie asked. "Who, exactly, is Tanya?"

"Well, Tanya is who she says she is—the daughter of two archaeologists who spend a lot of time searching for buried treasure and lost artifacts. The rest… well, it's a long story."

"I'm guessing you have a lot of those."

Jason grinned. "Far too many." He let his head thunk back against the tree trunk. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Well, a Google search led me to a tournament you competed in with Adam Park and Tommy Oliver. You were a last minute substitute for Rocky DeSantos. I looked into them a little more closely and figured out they transferred to Angel Grove High the same day the Peace Conference announced who was chosen to attend from Angel Grove, as did Aisha Campbell. The three of them showed up in numerous martial arts tournaments and several community projects together. I looked for a similar pattern around the time Kimberly Hart left town, and came up with Katherine Hillard. I found Tanya when Googling Adam Park. I was pretty startled to go from 'Huh, a Power Ranger dating a pop star,' to 'Holy crap, she's the Yellow Zeo Ranger.'"

"It was way more startling for me," Jason told her with a faint smile.

"So tell me what happened," Carrie urged. "I want to hear."

"Why?" Jason asked, trying and failing to keep the note of suspicion out of his voice.

Carrie blinked. "Jason… this is just… all so amazing to me. If you're asking if I'm going to tell anyone, no, I'm not. I'll take the secret to my grave. I've spent years trying to find out who you were, and now I know. I just… want to know more. I'm a reporter. I don't stop at just one or two facts. I want the whole story, even if this story's just for me."

Jason thought it over, then slowly nodded. "All right. Well, I guess it all begins with a time spell. I was happily in Switzerland, away from all the chaos, and…"

Kimberly listened to Trini's breathing. Deep and steady, in and out. Slowly, cautiously, Kimberly rolled over and checked carefully for any other sign that Trini was awake.

Satisfied, Kimberly rolled out of bed. Kimberly wasn't about to listen to any more convincing monologues about how Kimberly should handle Tommy's theft. This was between her and Tommy. End of story. No way was she going to spend the morning figuring out how to get her underwear back, or—god forbid—going without. She wouldn't let this go. She would sneak in, find her clothing, punish Tommy, and sneak back out.

She glanced around the room idly for something nasty she could use to make Tommy suffer. Eventually, her eyes landed on an empty pizza box and her face lit up. She had some leftover marinara sauce in the mini-fridge. She had a razor in her shower bag. Tommy's little story about fire, tomato sauce, and losing his hair… well. If she hit him with something that traumatic, he'd be liable to never speak to her again. She would be declared the undisputed victor. Of course, it was kind of… cruel, but…

"What are you doing?"

Kimberly jumped at the sound of Kira's sleepy voice. "I'm, uh, nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Are you going after Dr. O?" Kira mumbled.

"Yeah," Kimberly admitted.

"Good luck," Kira told her, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Kimberly breathed a sigh of relief and steeled her resolve. Tommy deserved it. His hair would grow back eventually. And they were going to the mall tomorrow, so he could get his hair evened out while Billy was getting his makeover.

Kimberly pulled her shorts back on under Tommy's shirt, stuck the razor in her pocket, and retrieved the pouches of marinara from the refrigerator. Smiling to herself, she headed for the balcony; she didn't have a key to Tommy's door, and considering that he'd come into their room from the balcony twice it couldn't be that hard to get to his room.

She unlocked the balcony door, slid it to the side and slipped out, leaving the door open; even though it would be a red flag for Trini, she didn't want to get herself locked out, and Trini had sworn to keep the door locked from now on. Since Trini had already locked it earlier, she'd know it was unlocked for a reason if she woke up to find Kimberly gone and the door open. Kimberly flipped onto the next balcony, easy as cake. No wonder the two whack jobs didn't have any qualms about this, Kimberly thought as she hit the next one. Hmm. I wonder if I'll have time to carve my name into his hair. Maybe I should make it quick; if Jason wakes up, he'll lecture me.

Kimberly hopped over sixteen balconies before realizing that she'd missed Tommy's; he had the benefit of her room being at the end of the wing, so he knew when to stop, but his was roughly in the middle. After several minutes of balconies, careful counting and cursing Tommy's existence, she took to peeking in windows, though just about every room was pitch black. Eventually, she spotted the huge box in Tommy's room that she assumed held his White Ranger suit, just inside the balcony door. Tugging on the handle, she discovered it locked.

"Ugh! Who really locks the door to a sixth floor balcony?" Kimberly grumbled, even though she of all people knew that the answer was people like her friends.

Sighing, she inspected the door for any weakness. When she couldn't find any way in, she leaned against the balcony railing and tried to come up with a new plan. She supposed her best bet now would be to go down to the lobby and tell the girl she needed a room key for 618; as they'd been deleted from the register, she'd hopefully be able to explain the situation and charm her way into a spare key. If not, she'd have to go wake up Ethan and see if he was on Billy's level when it came to all things electronic.

"I'll teach you to mess with me," Kimberly vowed, staring into the dark room. Glaring at the spot in the darkened room where she guessed Tommy to be, she whispered, "I'll be back. Sweet dreams, Tommy."

Tommy stood before Kimberly in his basement laboratory, nervous, almost shaking. This was it. The moment he'd been waiting for since the day he met Kimberly.

Tommy got down on bended knee, staring up at her. He took out the black velvet box and held it up to her. Opening it, he revealed a large, pink Ring Pop, brand-new but slightly dusty thanks to the box.

"I had it made special by the Ring Pop Company," he said shyly. "They don't even make pink ones, you know. It's just for you. Please, Kimberly, say you'll marry me."

Kimberly gaped at him, looking pleased and shocked and happy beyond belief. Then, quite suddenly, the look faded to be replaced by sadness. "I can't, Tommy. I'm not ready to be a mom."

Tommy frowned. "What?"

"I don't want children. Ever. Children disgust me," Kimberly said apologetically.

Tommy was a bit distressed by that. He'd always wanted a large family—something he'd never gotten to have. Still, Kimberly was the most important thing in his life, and he wasn't going to let this revelation stop him from marrying her. Besides, it was always possible that she would change her mind. "We don't have to have children, Kim. If you don't want kids, I can live with that."

"But you've already got kids."

Tommy stood up, feeling rather confused now. What was she going on about? "What do you mean?"

"What about Kira?"

"What about Kira? She's not my kid. She's my… eh… protégé, that's all."

"Don't lie to me, Tommy," Kimberly said gently. "We both know she's so much more than that."

"What? What, did I adopt her and forget about it again?" Tommy demanded.

"Tommy, I saw her today. She told me the truth."

"What truth?"

"That she's carrying your baby."

Tommy laughed. "Kira isn't carrying my baby, Kim. I don't know what gave you that idea, because I wouldn't touch Kira. I need the money."

Kimberly frowned. "She pays you not to touch her?"

"No, the Reefside Community School District pays me not to touch her," Tommy said impatiently. "Kim, why would you think Kira is carrying my baby?"

Kimberly shook her head. "I saw the proof, Tommy."

Tommy stared at her in horror. "Proof?" There was no way. No WAY!

"And the look on your face gives me more. Don't try to deny it anymore, Tommy. I saw it, with my own two eyes. I should have known you wouldn't be held back by morals, and I should have known you thought you were above the rules and regulations of a school system. I also should have known that the money wasn't enough incentive for you. Goodbye, Tommy."

With that, Kimberly turned and wandered away. Tommy stared numbly after her. How could she? How could she think that Kira would have—?

"Dr. O!"

Tommy whirled. Kira was standing behind him. "Kira!" Tommy shouted, enraged. "Why would you tell Kimberly you're carrying my baby?"

Kira frowned. "Because I am carrying your baby, duh."

"What are you talking about! I would never, ever impregnate you!"

"Well, that's good to know," Kira said, shaking her head. "But I'll go on the pill, just in case. After all, you're a completely different person during those blackouts you've been having."

"Blackouts?" Tommy repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, you know, all that lost time you've been having since you became the Black Ranger. Hence the term 'blackouts.'"

"I… what… no, no, I haven't been having blackouts! I've just been getting confused because of my pitiful excuse for a memory! I'm not sleeping with you! I'm not!"

"Jeez, Dr. O, it was a joke."

"I… it was?"

"Of course it was. I would never sleep with you. You're old and decrepit and ugly."

"I am not!"

"Oh, you so are. It's your hair, you know."

"Hey!"

"Well, you asked."

"I did not! Anyway, why would you joke about something like that? Why did you tell Kim you were going to have my child?"

"I didn't! I told Kim I was carrying your child."

"And why did you do that?"

"Because I am, see?" Kira lifted up her arm. She was holding a small, blond boy by the overall straps. He had green eyes and a frown on his face, as if he couldn't quite figure something out.

"What… I've never seen him before in my life! That's not my child," Tommy said in exasperation.

"It is according to the chick that dropped him off."

"I—what?"

"Some angry woman. Blond, funny accent, wearing a tutu? She stormed up to me, handed me this—" Kira indicated the child by lifting him a little higher— "and told me that it was yours and that she was tired of you never being responsible and she never believed any of those stories about you being a superhero anyway." She turned the kid around to look at him. "What are you going to call him? He looks kind of like a David to me. David… or possibly Frank. Frank's a good strong name."

"First of all—I'm not calling him Frank! And second of all, there's absolutely no proof that that's my kid!"

"Sure there is. After all, he's the second Orange Ranger."

"But… but there is no Orange Ranger!"

"How can you say that?" Kira demanded. "After all, you're the world's first-ever Orange Ranger!"

Tommy looked down at his clothes, fully intending to shake his black T-shirt at her, only to discover that he was clothed from head to toe in a bright neon orange sweat suit. He looked back up at Kira in horror.

She smiled brightly at him. "Ah, I think it's all coming back. Good thing, too, we were wondering if you had Alzheimer's as well as arthritis." She thrust the baby into his face. "Happy sixtieth birthday, Dr. O!"

Tommy awoke with a yelp. His terrified, sleep-deprived mind was racing. It is one thing to have a nightmare. It is another thing entirely to have a nightmare when you've been given several rather prophetic dreams in the past.

At first, Tommy attempted to reach for the phone on his nightstand to call Hayley, before remembering he was in the hotel and didn't know where he'd left his cell. He reached out to wake Jason, only to discover that Jason was missing. His eyes widened in horror—Jason wasn't where he'd left Jason. What else could have changed? Was he wrong to expect Jason to be there? Was he confused? Was he Orange?

"ZACK!"

"Huh what huh who what what?" Zack spluttered, jerking in his sleep and rolling into a sitting position before he was fully awake.

"What color am I?"

"Huh?" Zack asked, frowning as his not-quite-conscious brain tried to function.

"What color am I?"

"You're a white guy, Tommy," Zack said stupidly. "With some American Indian in you. So… reddish-white. Is that why you woke me up? Your memory must be getting worse, dude."

"No! I mean, am I the Orange Ranger?"

"I… there is no Orange Ranger."

"I'm not an Orange Ranger?"

"No, dude," Zack said, groaning. "Jesus, you scared me to death. There's never been an Orange Ranger."

"Are you sure?" Tommy asked suspiciously, still swimming in the horrified daze that controls the mind right after nightmares.

"Can I go back to sleep?" Zack whined, and, without waiting for an answer, he fell backwards onto his pillow.

Tommy shuddered, still not awake and still quite freaked out. Kimberly had dumped him because his son was an Orange Ranger. Ugh. Ugh. That sweat suit!

Tommy hopped out of bed onto stiff legs and ran jerkily around to the other side of Zack's bed, where Adam was slumbering peacefully. Tommy shook him. "Adam. Adam. Wake up."

"Hey, baby, how was Budapest?" Adam mumbled.

"Adam, wake up," Tommy hissed.

"Love you, Tanya. We go out for breakfast tomorrow. Then the wildebeests will sing. Yep."

Tommy growled in frustration and looked around wildly for another option, any other option. He needed more confirmation than a sleepy Zack. He needed someone compassionate. Someone who would know for sure if it was just a nightmare, who would know everything. Someone who would cater to him. Someone not Zack.

"Phone," Tommy muttered desperately. "Need phone. Need my Hayley."

"What?" came Hayley's utterly annoyed voice through his cell phone a minute later.

"Oh, thank god," Tommy moaned. "Hayley! I had that dream again!"

"It's four-thirty in the morning," Hayley growled.

"What's your point?" Tommy asked, confused. He just couldn't seem to wake up. Beer, sleep deprivation, stress—it was all making him sluggish, and the panicked horror wasn't helping.

"Are you dying?"

"No."

"Do you need some sort of invention?"

"Not at the moment."

"Okay, then. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I… you're Hayley," Tommy whined.

"You know what, Tommy?"

"Huh?"

"You need a girlfriend."

"I—hey! What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, leave me alone!"

"But… but…"

"Tommy, you are not the Orange Ranger. You are not—for the moment—a Ranger at all. You do still have a Zeonizer but you never ever use it anymore unless Andros begs you to, and of course I agree that that was really kinda rude of him. Jason was just kidding about the arthritis and the sixty-year-old Orange Ranger. You have also not been fired, you have not done anything illegal with a student, and you have not eaten calamari. Principal Randall hasn't come on to you since the day you saved her life. Your former selves have not returned to attack you in your sleep. Kim did not date a flamboyant gay gymnast who beat you up. Kat did not kill you with a boomerang. Rita did not kill you, Zedd did not kill you, no one from the Machine Empire killed you, and no one else killed you. You're alive, you're not a Ranger, and you're a teacher, and as depressing as that is, there's nothing I can do about it. Go back to sleep."

"I just… I need someone to talk to. I need… something," Tommy whimpered. "I'm freaked out, man."

"Well, go find one of your other friends and wake them up when they were getting a much-needed vacation from their overly needy guy friend."

"What?"

"Find someone else. Someone who's… um… closer. Someone who can give you a hug." Hayley's tone suggested she might be saying anything in an attempt to get him off the phone, but Tommy was so out of it that he didn't notice.

"I already woke up Zack."

"What good would Zack be right now?"

"Oh. Good point." Tommy thought about it for a second. "I'll go wake Trini."

"You do that, honey, and try not to get killed," Hayley said sleepily. A click sounded as she hung up her phone.

Tommy grabbed a random T-shirt off the floor and searched about for his room key, only to discover that it, like Jason, wasn't where he'd left it. Feeling a rising swell of panic, Tommy rushed for the door and flung open; hopefully he'd find a way back in tomorrow. At the moment, he had larger problems.

Unfortunately, he had no idea just how large they really were.

End Notes: We are trying to continue to update regularly, but Freyja might be washed away and I might be thrown in jail. Which sucks, but hey, that's life. In the event that both of us are incapacitated by flooding and police officers and so on, we've left Bryn instructions to carry on our work. So please, don't yell at us if, in the future, the story goes horribly wrong. Yell at Bryn. With any luck, my court date will go smoothly and Freyja's home will still be standing after it stops raining. Or, rather, hopefully I'll find the cash to pay my fine and it will stop raining in Kansas.

Moral of the story: Always check identification, and don't live in low-lying areas.

Insight into the Creation of "Of Love and Bunnies": Where did you think we were getting this stuff?