The Void

by ExellentlyEllen

On the Legacy Video, Kimberly mentioned the time Tommy was lost. He was lost for 18 months before they found him, physically - and more to recover him mentally. This is the story of those months.

The VoidAugust 2014 - February 2016

Time was a strange and fickle thing. Sometimes an hour lasted only seconds, and sometimes seconds seemed to turn into eternities. The only objective way to tell time was moving forward was by noting the changes - sunrises and sunsets, seasons shifting, gray hairs sprouting, and laugh lines deepening. Without those markers, time became a foreign concept, something that might have never really existed except in Tommy's mind. Here, in this desolate, barren wasteland, there were no sunrises, no full moons, no life to mark the passage of days. Time unraveled, slipping through his grasp like sand until it was nothing more than a distant memory, fading like everything else.

Above him, the sky churned -a swirl of angry purples, like a storm forever on the verge of breaking but never quite releasing its fury. It was as if he was trapped in a photograph, suspended in a moment that stretched into infinity, where everything felt simultaneously stagnant and tumultuous. There was a crackle in the air, an electric charge that hung heavy around him, yet never released its energy.

The horizon was barren, offering no comfort -just dry, lifeless plains scattered with jagged rocks and massive boulders, the ground scarred by deep canyons like wounds refusing to heal. Shadows pooled in the cracks and crevices, ominous and still, yet even they felt frozen in time, unmoving in the unyielding stillness.

In the emptiness, every one of Tommy's heartbeats felt amplified, reverberating through the desolation, d echoing back at him as if the land itself were mocking his isolation. They were the only reminders that he was still alive, even if the world around him felt dead and hollow. There was no hunger, no thirst and no sleep -only a profound emptiness that settled deep within him, like a weight pressing down on his chest. Stripped of all sensations, he felt like a mere shell of his former self.

The only things keeping him company were his memories and the phantoms that haunted him. Their once-familiar faces twisted into grotesque parodies, drifting in and out of focus like nightmares made real. They appeared without warning, without any rhyme or reason, trailing after him like shadows, taunting him with cutting words and bitter accusations, before fading back into the ether. Sometimes, it felt like thousands of heartbeats before they returned; other times it seemed like they would never leave. Tommy found himself trapped in an agonizing limbo, unsure of which was more unbearable—their presence or their absence.

At first, he was absolutely sure they weren't real; he could feel it in his bones. He'd fought fiercely against the illusions, argued with them until his voice gave out and the words dried in his throat. These aren't my friends, he'd remind himself, My friends are loyal and kind. These versions are tricks of the Void. Lies.

"You abandoned us, Tommy. You're no leader, you're a coward,"they hissed, their voices weaving through his mind like a haunting echo of his deepest insecurities.

"No! You're not real! I would never abandon you, not by choice," he'd yell back at them, desperate to silence their lies. His voice rang with certainty, his heart brimming with hope. But the phantoms only laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the emptiness around him, cold and cruel.

Tommy clung to the memories of better days -sun-drenched afternoons spent by the lake, family dinners filled with laughter, the exhilarating chaos of game nights, and the unbreakable camaraderie of battle. Those moments were his only lifeline in his turbulent sea of despair. But the phantoms were relentless, dragging him under again and again.

"You couldn't protect us. Your choices got Trini killed, and you didn't even care. I hate you!"Jason's words struck like daggers, each one piercing through the armor of denial he'd built around himself. Anger surged through him in response, fierce and protective, burning away the sorrow—if only for a moment. "That's not true!" Tommy screamed into the void, his fists clenched along his side as he felt the guilt and grief over Trini's death wash over him, temporarily grounding him in his reality.

Sometimes, the phantoms shifted tactics; trading rage for sorrow. Their disappointed gazes pierced him deeper than any accusation ever could.

"Why would you leave me, Tommy? Didn't you love me?"Kim's voice was a soft heart-wrenching echo that clawed at him. He tried, desperately, to remind himself that she wasn't real—that none of them were real. They were phantoms, cruelly conjured by the Void and his own insecurities, twisting the echoes of his memories into something unbearable. But knowing that didn't stop the ache from sinking deeper into his soul.

For a time - a long time- Tommy fought. He believed that if he held onto his most cherished memories, he could survive long enough for his friends to friends will come. They always repeated the thought constantly, a mantra running through his mind.

But slowly, as time unraveled further, Tommy's grip began to slip. The longer he remained trapped in this endless void, the more the line between memory and phantom blurred. The faces, the voices, the accusations—they all began to blend, until Tommy could no longer tell what was real and what was illusion. His memories, once a sanctuary, became just as twisted and tainted as the phantoms that haunted him. And slowly, almost without him noticing, the certainty he'd clung to—the belief that his friends would come—began to slip through his fingers.

Just like everything else.

The hope he'd carried - so strong at first- withered into a hollow, distant thing. And then he stopped hoping altogether.

He stopped listening to the voices screaming at him, their words becoming hollow echoes that no longer pierced his heart. They became background noise -constant but meaningless- blending into the static of his mind. Even the anger he had clung to as a defense crumbled, replaced by an all-consuming numbness. He no longer acknowledged their presence, no longer fought back.

His voice, once raised in defiance, had grown silent. There was nothing left to say.

And with the silence, came the drifting. Each passing moment felt like slipping deeper into an abyss, his mind fracturing more and more. His instincts dulled -no longer sharp from the constant battles he had once fought. He forgot the sound of his own voice, forgot who he used to I strong? Was I a good leader? A good father? Was any of that even real, or just another part of the illusion?

I'm still fighting,he told himself, clinging to the words as if they could keep him afloat. But with each passing moment, each shuffling footstep, it felt less like resistance and more like surrender. The fight wasn't a physical battle anymore; it was survival, but even survival was starting to slip beyond his reach.

—-

Tommy spent most of his heartbeats sitting on a cold, jagged rock, gazing into the blackened chasm of his purgatory. The drop below was endless, silent and strangely peaceful -an escape that felt tantalizingly close. With every thud of his heart, he inched closer to the brink, thoughts drifting towards the abyss' finality, the promise of release. To the end of his torment.

But he never jumped. Not yet, anyway. His last act of defiance was remaining still, a stubborn refusal to surrender, though each moment stretched unbearably, blurring the reasons to hold on.

The swirling, angry sky above had remained unchanged since the moment he arrived in this forsaken place. When that was, he couldn't say. Maybe he'd always been here, trapped in this never-ending torment. Much like the phantoms that haunted him.

He had become very skilled at ignoring them; though in time he found he preferred when they were around. At least they broke the monotony of his existence, filling the silence with accusations and anger. As long as he didn't focus on their venomous words, he could pretend he wasn't alone.

Tommy closed his eyes, letting the cacophony of voices and the relentless rhythm of his heart lull his mind into a kind of cherished oblivion. He almost didn't notice it when the voices began to change.

"Tommy!"

It came from far away, unlike the usual phantom-voices. This voice was clearer, infused with emotions he couldn't even name anymore.

"Tommy? Are you here? Tommy!"

More voices joined in -familiar yet foreign- so unlike the ones he'd grown accustomed to. They carried an urgency, breaking the spell of numbness that had cocooned him for so long. They sounded… warmer. Concerned, even - an alien feeling in this world of despair.

"Tom! Can you hear us?"

His heart skipped an involuntary beat, fear creeping up on him without warning. The Void had changed its tactics many times before, shifting from cruel taunts to disappointed accusations, then to sorrowful lamentations. This had to be just another trick. The Void knew how to break him, twisting his emotions until he was too frayed to fight back. As if he weren't already shattered beyond repair.

The voices were closer now, as if the speakers had moved deeper into the barren wasteland that was his home. He could almost hear their footsteps -the crunch of boots against jagged rocks, echoing with a familiarity that sent shivers down his spine. A sharp contrast to the eerie, silent way the phantoms moved.

"Dr. O! If you can hear us, make a noise. Throw a rock… something!

Tommy shook his head, willing himself to tune out the voices like he had done with all the others. They weren't real, just another illusion the Void had conjured up, another cruel way to mock him. The warmth; the concern -just bait to lure him into a false sense of hope, only to crush him again. He'd been tricked before, he wouldn't fall for it again.

"What the hell kind of place is this?"

The voices were so close now, just beyond the ridge of the boulder he leaned against. They weren't only calling for him -they were having conversations with each other. The phantoms never bothered with that. Why would they, they weren't are these voices. The Void is just learning my weakness.

"Fuck if I know. It was one of Zedd's Dark Dimensions, mostly forgotten since his defeat. Billy figured it was worth checking here because Tommy used Zedd's staff to defeat Drakkon. He's been beating himself up about it."Tommy knew that voice. A flicker of a face flashed before Tommy's eyes, one that had haunted him so many times before. Soulful gaze, strong . But the voice sounded a little different this time, not like the one he'd endured for so trick! Can't trust it,he reminded himself.

"Why? He was right. The scanners confirm Dr. O's definitely here. Somewhere." Another faint tickle in the back of his mind at this next voice, but Tommy couldn't clearly identify its owner. It wasn't a voice he'd heard in a long, long time.

The phantom using Jason's voice sighed."Because he didn't think of it sooner."

A snort in reply -another he couldn't easily identify. Familiar, yet distant. Tommy dug through the fractured remains of his mind, until it brought to mind floppy brown hair and a cocky smile, but when he tried to hold on to the image, it vanished back into the deepest corners of his Void is playing games. Can't trust it. Won't trust eyes opened and his gaze drifted back towards the edge of the abyss.

"It's not like he's been sitting on his ass these past 18 months. He's searched every nook and cranny of the known Universes, and then some. Besides, we found him. Now we just bring him home, get some steak and toast to another job well done."

The footsteps stopped suddenly, a detail that stirred something inside Tommy -a faint flicker of curiosity. The phantoms had never done this before. They only spoke to him, their words sharp and cruel, meant to break him. They never talked about doesn't exist! This is home. The rest are all lies!

"Remember when Kira was taken by Mesagog, back when you first got your powers?"The voice carried authority, a weight that pulled at Tommy's memories, daring him to follow. He had been there, hadn't he?No! It wasn't real. Only this place has ever been real. Purple skies. Rocks.

"Good. Now, remember how shaken up she was after? How long it took her to stop having nightmares? How deeply it affected her?Try magnifying that feeling 550 times. If you think Tom's walking out of here all Morphed up and ready to lead, you're delusional."

Tommy couldn't see the figures attached to the voices, but the names Kira and Mesagog had triggered something in his mind. Faces of past teammates,Jason. Connor. latter two would surely look chastised under the weight of Jason's had when I …He blinked, trying to grasp the image before it slipped away again, vanishing into the haze.

Jason's voice felt real. Solid. Just like it had in the old days. That firm, unshakable presence. Tommy had leaned on it so many times before. But that wasn't of this is real,he reminded himself, clinging desperately to that thought.

But .Toovivid, like a lifeline being thrown into the suffocating Void. Tommy's mind warred with itself. He knew this place -the Void- better than he'd known anything. It was full of lies and deceit, an emptiness that wrapped around his soul, sucking out every last bit of who he had been until only a shell remained. That's how this place sustained itself, feeding on the energy of those trapped within its reach.

But the voices…

Trent's voice broke the strange tension that had settled over them, cutting through Tommy's spiralling thoughts."Jace, man, we know he's not okay. But hewillwalk out of here. That's the point."Trent's tone was resolute, almost fierce in its conviction."We'll help him get through it. That's what we do. Especially after all he's done for us. We owe him him that."

Tommy's breath hitched at those words, even though he tried his best to be detached. He pushed the image away, shoving it into the same dark corner where he kept every hope he'd once had. This place, this desolate, soul-crushing wasteland, wasn't about hope. It was about survival, and hope was a dangerous thing. It could be used against him, had already been.

Another one of Jason's sighs echoed through the air, heavy with concern.

"We will. We'll get him out. Just… the Tommy we find will not be the same friend we lost. Hecan'tbe, not after all this time here. He might not even come with us voluntarily. If it comes down to it, we need to be prepared to subdue him to get him out of here. Don't underestimate him though, Tommy's never one to back down from a fight."

Tommy's pulse quickened, and his fists clenched me?Jason's words struck him like a lightning bolt. The phantoms hadneverbeen physical before. They were just manifestations of his deepest fears, his heaviest guilt -figments pulled from the darkest recesses of his mind by the Void. They could torment him with words, twist his thoughts, drown him in regret and sorrow, but they had never been able to touch him.

He knew this with absolute certainty. In the early days -back when he still remembered, when he still believed in the world he came from- he had tried to fight back. At first, he reached out to the phantoms in desperation, seeking comfort. He'd tried to hug them, hoping their familiar faces would offer solace. Later, when their words turned sharp and unbearable, he lashed out in anger, first swinging. But his arms had passed right through them, like they were made of mist, shadows that existed only to torture only exist in my mind,he reminded more.

But Jason's voice -hiswords- threatened to shatter that fragile certainty. If these new voices, these new phantoms were different -if they weresolid- then every defense Tommy had carefully constructed over the endless time of torment would crumble. The idea that they could touch him, couldphysicallysubdue him, felt like the Void's final weapon against his sanity.

And yet, Jason's voice carried something different. Something raw, familiar, that Tommy hadn't heard in what felt like eons. It made it harder for him to shut the voices out, harder to dismiss them as just another trick of the Void. This wasn't the typical twisting of his memories into cruel reminders of failure. No, this felt…genuine. Vivid and sharp, like a blade cutting through the fog.

It brought back memories -painful reminders- of who Tommy once was, or who he thought he'd been. The man who had stood shoulder to shoulder with Jason, who had trained Connor and mentored Trent. The man who believed in fighting for something, who believed in hope.

But the Void was cunning. It had already used so many tactics to break him. This could just be another one, another ploy to keep him from surrendering to the abyss. Perhaps it sensed that Tommy's thoughts of stepping into the endless dark were solidifying. Maybe this was its last-ditch effort to keep him in its grasp, to prolong his suffering.

The voices, no matter how earnest, no matter how caring they soundend, could not be trusted. They weren't real, couldn't be Void was the one rule that had kept him Void lies -it's all it does.

"Guys!"

A new voice broke through the haze, instantly recognizable to Tommy as belonging to Rocky. The carefree, happy-go-lucky spirit of their team, loyal to a fault and a beacon of light even in the darkest moments. There had never been a situation Rocky couldn't find a sliver of hope in, making the heavy choices they faced more he?

Tommy's heart skipped another beat.

"My scanner's picking up a signal from just over this ridge."Rocky's voice was infused with familiar energy, a franting determination that cut through the fog of despair. It felt almost tangible. But doubt clawed at Tommy, relentless in its assault. The Void had become a master at crafting illusions, and even if these voices were new, he couldn't let himself fall for again. Not ever.

Tommy clenched his fists, battling against the waves of doubt crashing over him. He remembered -vaguely- who he'd beenbefore. Before the Void, if there ever had been such a thing. He'd been a fighter, a friend. But the memory felt distorted, as if he was watching it through muddied water.

I can't do this again,he whispered to himself, the words almost lost in the labyrinth that was his this pain again.

The voices continued, growing closer, a whirlwind of urgency and concern, but all Tommy could focus on was the weight of his own despair. He knew the Void was watching, waiting for his next move. It only took a split second to decide.

Tommy got up from the ground and shuffled to the edge of the abyss. He would give the Void no more; he would end its perverted feast and finally let his shattered mind and soul rest.

He picked up his foot and stepped into oblivion.

"Tommy! NO!"

—

PRISM headquarters - Earth (?)February 2016

When Tommy regained consciousness, a sharp pang of disappointment shot through him. The one escape from his hell -plunging into the abyss- had slipped through his fingers like smoke. Instead of the oblivion he craved, he was still here, still trapped in some distorted version of existence. His body felt heavy, as if the weight of his failure was pressing him flat against the surface beneath him. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see the oppressive purple sky he had grown to despise. Those angry hues had once been his entire world, swirling above him, mocking him with their unrelenting permanence. Now, the idea of facing them again felt unbearable. What he longed for was nothingness -just to fade, dissolve, and cease to exist.

But his body betrayed him, slowly pulling him back from the edge of unconsciousness. A frown creased his brow as he stirred, and something immediately feltoff. He wasn't sprawled across jagged rocks or familiar rough ground. There was no sharp pain biting into his back, no hard edges digging into his skin. Instead, the surface beneath him was unsettlingly smooth and cold -like polished steel. His fingers twitched, brushing across the metallic surface, and he realized the edges of it were mere inches away from his body.

A foreign sensation tugged at his hand. Something thin and cold was taped to it, pinching and pulling at his skin. It was restrictive in a way that was unsettling. He hesitated, then cautiously cracked his eyes open, steeling himself for the hostile world that surely awaited him. The harshness he expected was absent. Instead of the raging purples, there was only darkness -an almost peaceful dimness that enveloped him. Blinking green lights punctuated the blackness, casting eerie shadows that danced on solid walls. The effect was bewildering, as if the shadows themselves were alive, teasing him with their movement.

Tommy sat up slowly, disoriented, his mind racing to make sense of his surroundings. The air was cool, almost unnaturally clean, unlike the dense, stifling atmosphere he'd grown used to. It chilled his skin, seeping into his bones. It wasn't unpleasant -just unfamiliar, a feeling he hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. His gaze swept over the dimly lit room. The blinking lights and the sterile air hinted at something foreign -something was he?

Panic stirred in his chest as the reality of his surroundings sank in. For so long, he had existed in the boundless Void, where there were no walls, no ceilings, nothing but endless emptiness. In its own twisted way, the vastness of that space had offered a strange kind of solace. There, he'd been lost, but at least there had been no boundaries to confine him. Now, the walls around him felt oppressive, closing in on him, suffocating him. The feeling of being enclosed again after so long without physical barriers, made his breath catch in his throat.

Claustrophobia, a sensation he thought he'd long forgotten, gripped him. The despair that had once stretched endlessly through the Void was now something concrete, pressing in on him from every side. His chest tightened, and his pulse quickened. The room felt smaller with each rasping breath he took, the walls pushing inward, trapping him in a space that suddenly felt more terrifying than any endless abyss ever could.

Not again!His thoughts like this!

He'd been trying to escape. Had his attempt to flee the Void only trapped him in something worse? The thought gnawed at him, driving his panic higher. The pulsing green lights seemed to quicken in rhythm with his heartbeat, flickering more erratically. The sound of beeping - soft at first- grew sharper, louder, like a piercing wail that felt strangely alive, feeding off his fear.

Tommy turned towards the noise and spotted a screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Jagged green lines spiked erratically up and down, mimicking the frantic rhythm of his heart. His panic was feeding into the machines around him, amplifying his terror. A new sound entered the mix -a sharp hiss, like gas escaping under pressure. The wall in front of him seemed to shift, and a seam opened, revealing a harsh rectangle of white light. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat a deafening thud in his ears.

A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the stark, sterile light spilling in from the hallway beyond. It stood there for a moment, motionless, like Tommy's alert state had surprised it. Tommy's body responded on instinct, moving faster than his thoughts could keep up. Without hesitation, Tommy scrambled off the cold metal table, his hands ripping free of whatever had been attached to him. The harsh sound of metal clattering against the floor echoed in the confined space, but he didn't stop. He launched himself across the room, his body slamming into the farthest corner, desperately seeking refuge.

Breathless and shaking, he pressed himself into the corner, arms raised defensively over his head. He was bracing himself for some kind of attack -for pain, for violence, for whatever fresh hell this place had in store for him. Something warm dripped down his hand, matting his hair, but he ignored it. His gaze locked onto the figure in the doorway, watching its every move.

The figure took a slow, deliberate step forward, its hands raised in a gesture that was meant to be non-threatening, but in Tommy's state, it only heightened his anxiety. His pulse spiked again, and he felt the room spin as a dizzying rush of fear nearly overwhelmed him.

"Tommy?"

The voice was low, cautious, carefully measured, as if trying not to startle him. It held a strange familiarity, something distant and nearly forgotten, like a half remembered dream. But Tommy couldn't let himself be sidetracked by it. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not here. Not now.

His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as he pressed himself even deeper into the corner, as if he could somehow melt into the walls and disappear. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, vibrating with tension, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. His mind raced, torn between the instinct to flee and the crushing reality that there was nowhere to run. The Void may have been his prison, but at least it had never felt this…confining.

"Tommy," the voice tried again, even gentler this time. "Please try to calm down. Your vitals are through the roof. You're going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep this up."

The words were soft, but they cut through the haze of Tommy's panic, forcing him to register ? Heart attack?His pulse still hammered against his ribs, thundering in his ears, but the voice -the familiarity in it- tugged at a long forgotten thread in his mind, an old connection that pulled at memories buried too deep to fully grasp.

Tommy tried to push back against the emotions and memories it evoked, because memories were dangerous. They could be exploited, twisted, and used as weapons against him. In the Void, memories had been his tormentors, shadows of a life he could no longer reach.

"Stay back," Tommy rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of his desperation. His back pressed so hard into the cold walls that his body ached, yet it still wasn't enough to make him feel safe. No matter how solid the wall felt, Tommy couldn't be certain it was real, and if it wasn't real, none of this was. There was no protection against the unknown. His body shook with the overwhelming need to escape, to act, but he was pinned in place by his own fear.

The figure in the doorway didn't move any closer. It stayed still, silhouetted against the harsh light, hands still raised. The caution in the voice never wavered, but there was something else beneath it now -a thread of urgency, of worry seeping into the measured tone.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the voice continued, calm but firm. "You're safe, Tommy. You'rehome, do you understand? We've pulled you out of Zedd's dimension, you're free."

The words hit him like a shockwave, leaving his mind trapped anymore?It sounded like a lie -too good to be true. Another cruel trick to make him lower his guard, to leave him vulnerable again. The Void had played with his mind before, twisting illusions into tortuous mockeries of hope. His breath hitched as doubt warred with fear, the concept of safety so alien to him that it felt like a trap.

His muscles trembled with the effort of keeping himself braced against the wall. His heart raced in his chest, pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to crash through his ribs. His eyes were wide, frantic, searching the room for something -anything- that could offer an escape. But there was nothing. No way out. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thin, too oppressive. Tommy's chest constricted, his lungs struggling to pull in air. His vision blurred, black spots dancing the edges as the room around him seemed to tilt.

The man's voice came again, calm but laced with urgency. "Tommy, please. You're hyperventilating. You need to breathe. Please,breathe."

The words barely registered in Tommy's mind. They floated past him, lost in the flood of fear that gripped him. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out any sense of reason or logic. The edges of reality fraying as his mind crumbled beneath the pressure. He clawed at the wall behind him, nails scraping uselessly against the cold surface. He had to get away. Had to escape. Had to -

"Not…real,' he murmured, his voice faint, the words slurring together as the darkness closed in. His body gave up its fight, slumping into the corner as consciousness slipped from his grasp like sand through an hourglass.

The last thing Tommy saw before the world faded into oblivion was the figure form the doorway, now crouched in front of him. There was a flash of recognition, an old, buried part of his memory stirring. The name surfaced before he could stop it, before he could push it back down into the depths of his broken mind.

"Billy…"

And then, there was nothing. Just darkness.

—-

The environment Tommy woke up in couldn't have been more different from the last, the contrast nearly overwhelming his senses. The walls around him were blindingly white, so pristine and sterile that they felt almost unreal, as if they would dissolve into light itself if he stared too long. The bed beneath him was soft -too soft- nothing like the cold, unyielding surface from before. It cradled his body in a way that was unsettling, the comfort alien after so long spent in discomfort.

He sat up slowly, the stiff, clean sheets rustling beneath him, their faint antiseptic smell sharp in his nose. His clothes had been changed. A plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants clung to his body, clean and unfamiliar. It was jarring to feel fabric that wasn't frayed or threadbare, especially after so much time spent in tattered. He looked down at his hand, which was now bandaged. The faint red dot on the bandage reminded him of the warm wetness he'd felt in the black room, but even that seemed distant now, as if it had happened to someone else.

Tommy's eyes darted around the room, instinctively cataloging every detail, searching for anything that seemed off. The room was sparse but carefully arranged, like it had been meticulously designed to be as non-confrontational as possible. Besides the bed, there was a small table with two chairs positioned neatly in the center, as if awaiting some kind of conversation that hadn't yet started. In the far corner sat a plush lounge chair, its cushions too inviting, too eager to comfort. The whole place had the atmosphere of a hospital without the machines, wires or beeping monitors to give away its purpose. It was just a clean, white room, designed to make someone feel at ease -or at least make them think they should be.

But Tommy couldn't relax. His fingers dug into the edge of the bed, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind raced, trying to make sense of where he was, and how he got here. His last memories were a chaotic jumble of panic and fear, unfocussed and wild. The shadowy figure. The Voice. The desperation. The eerie calmness of this new place unnerved him. The lack of obvious threats only heightened his suspicion. If anything, it felt like the calm before a storm, and that made it that much harder for him to let his guard down.

Slowly, Tommy slid off the bed, his bare feet touching the cold, polished floor. The coolness was a shock to his system, grounding him, but it didn't soothe the knot of tension coiled in his chest. He could feel a dull ache in his muscles, a faint soreness that felt foreign. He hadn't felt physical discomfort like this in… he couldn't even remember how long. In the Void, there had been no need to sleep, to eat, to rest. Pain had been different there -more psychological than physical.

He moved cautiously across the room. His hand grazed the smooth surface of the table, testing the reality of it. The coldness beneath his fingertips only confirmed how solid it was. His eyes flickered towards the door, closed tightly on the far side of the room. There were no windows, no signs of where this room might be located.

A soft click shattered the silence, drawing Tommy's attention firmly back to the door. His pulse quickened. Every muscle in his body tensed as his gaze locked on the handle. For a moment, panic surged again -his mind leapt to the idea of hiding, of running, even though he knew there was nowhere to go. His thoughts raced, but his options were nonexistent.

The door swung open, and Tommy braced himself for the worst, expecting a figure like the one before, shadowed and mysterious. But what entered the room was something entirely different. A short, bright red robot shuffled into the room. Its mushroom-shaped head bobbed slightly as it moved, red lights flickering rhythmically where its eyes should have been. Its metallic body gleamed brightly under the harsh lighting, polished to a high shine, and its vivid color clashed starkly with the sterile whiteness of the room. The robot carried a tray of food with unnerving precision, moving towards the table without a misstep.

As the robot approached, Tommy instinctively backed away, pressing himself into the farthest corner of the room. It set the tray down gently, than lifted its head, tilting it slightly as though it was observing him.

"Oh Tommy," the robot said, shaking its oddly shaped head. "Ai ai ai."

Tommy froze, the sound of his name jolting through him like a shock. The voice -it was familiar, heartbreakingly so. There was something in the robot's tone that made his chest tighten, something that tugged at memories he had long buried.

"Ai ai ai," the robot repeated softly, its red lights flickering as if sighing. Tommy's mind reeled. That voice -it belonged to a time when things had been different, whenhehad been different. He associated it with caution, concern but it had never been frightening. He could feel himself pressing harder against the wall, his wide eyes locked onto the machine as it scanned him, its lights tracing over him like it was assessing damage.

'It will be alright," the robot continued, its voice calm, soothing in a way that only deepened Tommy's unease. "You are safe now, Tommy. We will take care of you."

Safe. The word echoed in Tommy's head, taunting him. He wanted so badly to believe it, to let those words settle into his heart, but the Void had warped everything. Safety, comfort, trust -they were all lies now, twisted beyond recognition.

His throat tightened as fragments of memory fought their way to the surface. A flood ofai ai ai's washed over him, echoes from a past he barely recognized anymore. "Alpha…" The name slipped from his lips, and his heart thudded wildly in his chest, torn between fear and a dangerous flicker of hope.

"No," he shook his head, trying to dispel the image before him, willing the truth to unravel the lie. "This isn't real. You can't be real."

He sank to the floor, his back sliding down the wall until he was curled into himself, knees pulled tight against his chest. "I don't… I don't understand," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. He pressed harder into the cold surface, desperate for something solid, something real. "What is this? WhereamI?"

The robot - Alpha 10, his treacherous mind supplied- just shook its head slowly, a movement that seemed almost pitying. It turned and retreated towards the door, its footsteps soundless on the polished floor.. "Don't worry Tommy," it murmured. "Everything will be okay, I just know it will."

The door slid shut behind the robot with a faint click, leaving the room silent once again. It took Tommy at least a thousand heartbeats to realize he was alone. The sterile quiet pressed in on him like a weight. He couldn't say how long he'd been sitting there, curled up on the cold floor, but after a while, a strange sensation in his stomach forced him to move.

Hunger.

It had been a very long time -he thought- since he'd felt hungry. The sensation felt foreign, almost intrusive. He wasn't used to his body demanding anything of him anymore. For so long, the Void had numbed his needs, dulled his senses, until even basic instincts like hunger had faded into the background. But now, something primal stirred within him, pulling his attention towards the tray on the table.

The scent of warm food wafted towards him, gentle but insistent. He pushed himself up slowly, his muscles aching with stiffness. His movements were hesitant, wary, as if approaching something dangerous -like a caged lion- but it was only food. A sandwich, some soup, a cup of water.

His stomach growled faintly as he stood over the tray, his body reacting to the promise of nourishment, yet his mind lagged behind, cautious. He wasn't sure if he should trust it. Part of him resisted -the part that had learned to question anything that appeared too easy, too safe. It had been so long since anything had been simple. But another part, a quieter, more desperate voice, urged him to sit down and this is another trick, he reasoned with himself,I'll need strength, I'll need to be ready.

Somewhere deeper still another voice whispered: feel human again.

Tentatively, Tommy picked up the spoon. The metal was cool in his hand, a tactile confirmation that this moment, at least, was real. He dipped it into the soup, the broth swirling gently. The warmth spread through him instantly, foreign but comforting, like the first taste of something long forgotten. Despite the taste and the way it settled his -now suddenly famished- stomach, the knot of suspicion in his gut didn't uncoil.

He took another sip, then a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly, methodically. Each swallow reminded him of what he had lost during his time in the Void. The sensation of hunger, the act of eating. The small, instinctual things that made him human. For a moment, the simple act of eating brought a measure of peace -a fragile connection to something normal in a world that had been anything but.

And then the door opened again.

Tommy's spoon hung suspended in the air, his body frozen as the faint click of the door reverberated through the quiet room. His pulse quickened, the thin veil of calm he'd desperately clung to now shattered. He turned, and his worst nightmares became reality once again.

Despite the stark contrast of this sterile, white room to the jagged, violet-hued nightmare of the Void the figure that stepped through the door brought the same creeping dread. The air seemed to thicken around him as the man walked in, his movements deliberate, familiar. Too familiar.

Jason.

Tommy's mind recoiled at the sight of him, an instinctive surge of disbelief flooding his senses. The face -Jason's face- wore an expression of gentle concern, eyes soft and sad, but Tommy knew better than to believe it. The Void had shown him too many versions of Jason. Compassionate. Cruel. Empty-eyed husks. All of them lies. This one was no different.

Tommy's hand started to tremble violently, the spoon slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the ,his mind screamed. But his body remained paralyzed, locked in place by a suffocating mixture of fear and disbelief. The fleeting sense of safety that had come from the simple act of eating evaporated, leaving only the oppressive certainty that nothing here could be trusted -not the room, not the food, and certainly not the man standing in front of him.

Compassionate Jason -or whatever version this was- moved with a calm, casual confidence that sent another wave of panic crashing through Tommy's chest. Every step felt too deliberate, too measured, like Jason was carefully approaching a wild animal.A tiger, Tommy's mind supplied out of nowhere. His heart pounded in his ears, his grip tightening around the edge of the chair until his knuckles turned white.

Jason pulled out the chair opposite Tommy, turning it around before sitting, his arms draping lazily across the backrest as if they were simply old friends meeting again. As if nothing had changed. The familiarity of it twisted something deep inside Tommy. Once, this scene, the two of them sitting around a table together, had been comforting. Now it felt more like poison flooding his veins, reminding him of everything he'd lost.

"Tommy," Jason said, his voice soft, gentle -too gentle- and filled with unbearable suffocating familiarity. It was the voice of thousands of memories, each one fractured, broken by the phantoms that had haunted him in the Void. The Void had used this voice against him so many times that hearing it now felt like a physical blow.

Tommy stared at him, frozen, unable to tear his gaze away. His mind was frantic, dissecting every detail, searching -begging- for cracks in the illusion, proof this wasn't the real Jason sitting in front of him. He couldn't accept it. Couldn't afford to. The Jason he knew was gone. Long gone. if he'd ever even existed in the first place. This… thing sitting in front of him couldn't be his best friend. It couldn't be.

Tommy studied the phantom before him. Not-Jason's hair was shorter than Tommy remembered. Streaks of gray lined his temples, threads of age that hadn't been there ? Or just a trick of the Void?His jawline was still strong, but now faint lines etched themselves around his mouth and eyes, lines that could only come from years of worry and sadness. He looked older -tired- as if he had faced his own battles, fought his own wars.

What shook Tommy most were Jason's eyes. Before, the Void had always gotten them wrong -there had always been something missing, something too flat, too hollow. But this time, they were piercing blue, exactly as Tommy remembered them. Bright. Intense. And worse -sincere. They were filled with something that looked too much like humanity, too much like the Jason Tommy had once known. Those eyes roved over Tommy's face, searching, pleading, as though they were desperate for recognition, connection -something familiar to hold onto.

Tommy's breath hitched.

No. No! This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

The Void had twisted Tommy's perception of reality so thoroughly that even his own memories couldn't be trusted. It had warped everything, bending truth and lie into an indistinguishable tangle. And this -this- was just another trick. Another weapon to break him down. Another way to drag him deeper into the chaos that had become his mind.

"You're not real," Tommy muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, the words meant more for himself than the phantom sitting across from him. He pressed himself deeper into the chair, his body tensing, his hands gripping the seat so tightly his fingers began to cramp. "You're not really him."

Jason flinched, it was slight, barely noticeable, but it was there -like Tommy's words had struck him in a place that hurt. His eyes darkened with something raw, something broken, but he blinked it away quickly. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms more fully on the back of the chair, his gaze locked onto Tommy's, unwavering.

"I am real," Jason said softly, his voice thick with exhaustion and layered with emotions Tommy couldn't, wouldn't, let himself believe. "It's me, Tommy. I swear it on the Megazord. I don't know what that place did to you, but we'll fix it, okay? We'll fix everything."

The sincerity in Jason's voice was unbearable. Tommy's body tensed even further, his mind instantly rejecting the words, instinctively recoiling from the pain they dredged up. He couldn't be fooled again. Not after everything. Not after all the false Jasons the Void had thrown at him. He wouldn't -couldn't- let himself fall for it.

"You're not him," Tommy repeated, his voice shaking, growing more frantic. "You can't be." He shook his head violently, his eyes squeezing shut as he turned away, unable to bear the sight of the man in front of him. He stared at the sterile, blank wall beside him, as if it could offer him some form of escape. "I'm not even sure he ever existed," Tommy muttered, bitterness lacing his words. "The Void is tricky. It's smart. It knows how to break you. And this-" He gestured sharply at Jason, at the room, at the world around him. "This is just another lie!"

Desperation surged through him, and Tommy swiped at the tray in front of him, sending it and everything on it crashing to the floor. The sound echoed through the room, but Jason didn't even flinch. He didn't move at all. He just sat there, watching Tommy with those maddeningly gentle eyes, his expression weighed down by a sadness that only deepened.

Tommy's hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling as though he could somehow tear away the memories, the pain, the confusion, the Void itself. The rage and fear churned violently inside him, threatening to swallow him whole. "You're not real," he choked out, his voice cracking. "You're not him. You're just another lie, another trick-"

Jason didn't argue. He didn't try to convince Tommy. He just sat there, still, his presence unwavering. His eyes glassy with unshed tears, shimmered with a sorrow that felt like it could drown them both. A sorrow that Tommy couldn't -wouldn't- face.

"Tommy," Jason said quietly, his voice almost breaking under the weight of emotion. "I know you don't believe me. I get it. After everything you've been through… I don't expect you to trust me. Not right now." He paused, his gaze locking onto Tommy's, unflinching, determined. "But you need to hear this -no matter what you think, no matter what that place did to you- I'm not giving up on 'renot giving up on you."

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, desperately trying to block out Jason's voice, to shut out the memories that clawed at the edges of his mind.

The sound of the chair scraping across the floor made Tommy's head snap up. Jason was standing now, gathering the scattered remains of the food, his movements slow and careful.

"Rest, Tommy," Jason said gently, his tone so steady, so composed, as if he hadn't just watched his best friend unravel in front of him. "You've earned it. I'm here. We're all here for you."

Jason walked toward the door, but before he left, he turned, his eyes catching Tommy's once more, holding them for a long, lingering moment. The unspoken weight of everything they'd been through together hung in the air between them. "If you need anything… just call."

With one final nod, Jason disappeared through the door, leaving Tommy alone in the oppressive silence.

Tommy sat there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes glued to the closed door, his mind still trapped in the turmoil of Jason's visit. The quiet pressed down on him, but he couldn't bring himself to move, to think, to feel anything beyond the numbness that settled over him.

Finally, when he tore his gaze from the door and looked back at the table, something caught his eye. Round and shiny. His hand moved on instinct, fingers reaching for the object. As soon as his skin brushed against it, a rush of familiarity washed over him, slamming into him with sudden, painful recognition.

His fingers traced the raised imprint on its surface, and his breath caught in his throat.

The Dragonzord coin.

The weight was solid, real, in his hand. The coolness of the metal sent a shiver through him, stirring something deep within -a force he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime. Power. His blood; like it had its own memory, seemed to thrum, to call out for the Power that once surged through him. For a moment, it was as if the world outside had fallen away, leaving only him and the coin -the link to something ancient, something primal.

Memories flickered through his mind, vivid and alive. The roar of the Dragonzord rising from the sea, the surge of battle, of fighting alongside his team. The rush of strength, the responsibility, the connection to something far greater than himself.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

Suddenly, the weight of the coin became unbearable. The shame and guilt that haunted him seared through him. He hadn't earned this, hadn't been worthy of it for a long time. He'd failed -his friends, his Powers, himself. The coin in his hand seemed to scream it…unworthy.

With a sharp gasp, Tommy dropped the coin as if it had burned him, the metal clinking against the table and spinning for a moment, before finally settling. The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on him from all sides. The memories that had clawed their way to the surface, unwelcome and vivid, swirled in his mind, each one more painful than the last.

He pushed back from the table in a frantic motion, the chair legs screeching horribly over the cold, hard tiles. The sound echoed in the sterile room, amplifying the chaos inside his mind. Tommy stood there, breath ragged, hands shaking. His chest felt like it was caving in, crushed under the weight of his own weakness, the insidious tendrils of the Void still clinging to him.

He took a step back, eyes locked on the coin. It sat there, unmoving, but its presence loomed large. The Power that was calling to him felt so real, calling out to his very blood.

But he couldn't trust it. Wasn't strong enough to face it if it all turned out to be another trick.

Tommy tore his gaze away from the coin, forcing himself to turn his back on it. He made his way to the lounge chair in the corner of the room. With deliberate movements, he turned the chair to face the wall, away from the table, away from the coin.

He sat down heavily, his body sagging into the cushions in absolute exhaustion, determined to lose himself in the white noise again.

—-

Over the next few days, a pattern began to emerge in Tommy's life, a rigid timetable designed to restore some sense of order in his fractured mind. The dimension he'd been stuck in -Jason had explained on his second visit- was one where time didn't move, suspended in a void where minutes and hours had no meaning. Despite being gone for eighteen months, Tommy's body hadn't aged a single day since the blast had thrown him through the barriers between dimensions. He'd tried to tune out Jason's explanation, but somehow, the words had clung to him.

It was also on that second day that Jason had brought with him a large wall clock. The ticking had driven Tommy mad at first, the sound reverberating through the oppressive silence. It was so foreign, so strange to notice time passing again. Each tick felt like an assault, a reminder of the world he'd lost. But after a while, the clock's rhythmic ticking became an unexpected comfort. The sound grounded him in the present, -something he couldn't, or wouldn't, do in his own.

To Tommy's surprise, the wall beside his chair, hadn't been a wall at all, merely a well masqued window. Every morning, it showcased a breathtaking sunrise over Red Rock Canyon, a view that might have captivated him once, but Tommy now ignored completely. The outside world was distant, irrelevant -he was still trapped in his own mind, unable to connect with anything beyond his immediate surroundings.

Along with the sunrise, each morning at exactly 8 o'clock the door would open and Alpha 10 would bring in breakfast. The same meal every morning -eggs, toast and a small glass of orange juice. An hour later, Alpha would return to collect the untouched tray. Lunch always arrived at 1 p.m., a different kind of soup and a sandwich, but Tommy rarely ate more than a few bites. By dinner, which came promptly at 7, his hunger gnawed at him enough that he might finish half the plate on a good day, but most days, it sat cold and uneaten.

Afternoons were the hardest. They came with Jason.

Every day, around 3 p.m., Tommy would hear the familiar creak of the door as Jason stepped inside. He'd talk at Tommy, recounting defining moments in their friendship, stupid bets they'd made with each other; …. He never talked about anything recent, never mentioned the time Tommy had lost or what had happened while he was gone. Tommy refused to acknowledge him, sitting in his lounge chair with his back turned, staring at the window as if Jason weren't there. But Jason never left early. He'd sit at the same table, the same chair. His presence filled the room, a quiet yet persistent reminder of what had been. After about an hour, sometimes longer, always patient, never upset that Tommy didn't respond.

At first, it had been unbearable. The weight of Jason's presence was suffocating, and Tommy had done everything in his power to block him out. He couldn't look at Jason without the memories flooding in, without the doubts gnawing at him -was this really Jason or just another trick? Could he trust his own mind? The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him raw.

Slowly, as the days passed and Jason's routine never wavered, something began to shift. His presence became less oppressive, the tension between them easing in a way Tommy couldn't quite explain. Jason never pressured Tommy to talk, never forced Tommy to confront the things he wasn't ready to face. The silence between them remained, but it became bearable. He still didn't speak, still avoided looking at Jason, but the hours they spent together stopped feeling like torture.

And then, the familiar things began to appear.

It started with subtle changes. The generic black sweatpants and white T-shirts that had been provided when Tommy first arrived were slowly replaced by clothes he remembered -bright greens and reds, shades that once defined his identity. A pair of old running shoes appeared by the door. Then, in the corner of the room, he noticed his karate gear -a gi neatly folded, along with a black belt he barely remembered earning. It felt like pieces of his past were slipping back into his life, uninvited but undeniable.

One day, a framed photograph appeared on his bedside table. It was a picture taken a long time ago, back when the GRA was first founded. Tommy stared at it, unsure of when it had arrived or who had placed it there. He didn't remember anyone bringing it in. The sight of the photo stirred something inside him -a mixture of nostalgia and pain, a reminder of everything he had lost and might never regain. It felt like the past was creeping back into his present, piece by piece, whether he was ready for it or not.

Part of him wanted to reject these things, to shove them away like he had with everything else. But something stopped him. Instead, he spent countless hours just staring at them -at the gi, the shoes, the clothes. He could never quite bring himself to touch them though. They felt like ghosts of a life he no longer belonged to, relics of a person he wasn't sure he could ever be again.

The photograph, however, had been different. It had caught him off guard, left him feeling raw and exposed in a way the other items hadn't. He couldn't look away from the faces staring back at him, all of them younger, bright and hopeful. Full of life. It was almost too much to bear.

One day, as Tommy was sitting in his chair, staring at the photo on his bedside table, Jason's voice cut through the silence.

"We're still here, you know," Jason said softly. His voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words that Tommy couldn't ignore. "You haven't lost us. We're still your family."

Tommy didn't turn around. He didn't respond, as usual. But the words lingered, echoing in the silence after Jason had left the room.

Tommy wasn't sure if he believed it yet, but for the first time in a long time, he wanted to.

—

PRISM headquartersMarch 2016

After three weeks of waking up in the white room -now a little less sterile, filled with familiar knick-knacks from his old life- Tommy had settled into a routine. He still hadn't spoken a single word, but subtle changes were starting to take root. His movements were less tense, his breathing steadier, and the constant knot of anxiety in his chest had started to loosen its grip. He no longer felt like he was teetering on the edge of a panic attack every waking moment.

The relentless ticking of the clock, once grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, had become a quiet background hum. It grounded him, tethered him to the present. The days blurred into one another, but at least now the crushing weight of his own thoughts wasn't drowning him anymor.

Every morning, just after breakfast, Tommy went through his katas, the fluid, deliberate movements were a lifeline, something to focus on that wasn't as suffocating as reality. Each sequence had once come effortless to him; now, they felt like pieces of himself he was trying to reclaim. Every punch, every kick, every breath was a reminder that he was still here, still alive. In those moments, when he was lost in the movements, the looming sense of dread would slip away, and it felt like he was clawing his way back, inch by inch, from the Void that had swallowed him whole.

Jason still came every afternoon, precisely at 3 p.m. Tommy never acknowledged him, never said a word. But over time, he had come to expect his old friend's quiet presence. The steady sound of Jason's voice had become as much a part of Tommy's day as the ticking of the clock. Jason always respected the boundary Tommy had set, never pushing him to speak, never demanding anything. He'd sit at the table and talk -recounting old memories, stories of teenage mischief, quiet moments of camaraderie. Sometimes the stories felt like they belonged to someone else's life, like Jason was talking about a completely different Tommy Oliver. Other times, a faint, involuntary smile would tug at Tommy's lips because he knew exactly what Jason was about to say next.

Even so, Tommy never turned around. He'd stay in his chair, staring out the window at the unchanging view of the mountains, refusing to disrupt the delicate equilibrium that had formed between them. It wasn't much, but it was manageable. The suffocating presence that had weighed him down felt a little lighter, like he could breathe again, if only barely.

Then, one afternoon, the clock struck 3 p.m., and Jason didn't walk in.

Tommy's attention shifted instinctively to the door, his heart tightening in his chest. He tried to shake off the growing unease, forcing himself to stare back out the window. But he'd come to rely on Jason's voice filling the silence around him. Tommy's pulse quickened, the fragile rhythm of his routine broken. He wondered, for a split second, if this was it. If the Void had finally come to claim him, to pull him back into that endless, suffocating abyss.

Faint voices drifted in from the hallway -low and hurried, as though whoever was speaking didn't want to disturb him. Tommy's mind raced, half-expecting reality to twist again, for the sky to turn purple like before.

Finally, at ten past three, the door creaked open - but it wasn't Jason who stepped inside.

Rocky stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of uncertainty and concern. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should come in or turn back around. Tommy's gaze flickered toward him, his eyes narrowing as he silently demanded answers.

When no answers came, Tommy spoke his first words in weeks. "Where's Jason?" His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Rocky froze, clearly startled by the sound of Tommy's voice. His jaw went slack for a moment before he composed himself, flashing his familiar, easygoing grin as he sauntered in and dropped into Jason's usual chair.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine," Rocky quipped, though the humor in his voice fell flat. When Tommy didn't respond, his expression serious and piercing, Rocky's smile faded. He leaned forward, his tone softening.

"Jason's… taking a personal day." Rocky's voice was low, tinged with sadness. He paused, glancing at Tommy, clearly debating whether to say more. After a moment he sighed and decided to continue. "It's the anniversary of Trini's…" he trailed off, swallowing hard, the words stuck in his throat before he changed tack. "He's with the twins today."

The words hit Tommy like a freight train. Trini. Her name alone shattered the fragile walls he had built around himself. Memories of her rushed back -her fierce loyalty, her calm in the face of chaos, her laugh that could cut through the darkest day. And the sacrifice she made to save them all. The dam that had been holding back the flood of grief and guilt cracked wide open.

Tommy's breath caught, the realization slamming into him like an eighteen-wheeler. He'd been so wrapped up in his own pain, so lost in his own shattered reality, that he had forgotten the world had moved on without him. That Jason, Rocky, and everyone else had carried the weight of their own losses while he'd been trapped in his own torment.

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as the memories overwhelmed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. The dam had burst.

Rocky's voice, unexpectedly gentle, cut through the chaos in Tommy's mind. "Look, man, I know Jason's been trying to give space, letting you come back on your own terms. But here's the thing -I don't think you'll ever feel ready. I know you, Tommy. You're one of my best friends, but you're stubborn as hell. You get stuck inside your head, and you'll just keep sinking deeper unless someone pulls you out."

Rocky stood, moving in front of Tommy, meeting his eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze. "So here's the question: are you more afraid of this all being fake… or of it being real?"

The words hit Tommy like a punch to the gut, their weight pressing down on him long after Rocky had left. His mind kept replaying that question, over and over: Fake or real? Which was worse? Losing himself to a reality that wasn't real, or facing a life that was all too painfully real, with all the guilt and anguish that could break him apart again.

He wanted to push the thoughts away, shove them into the far corners of his mind where they couldn't reach him, but they wouldn't budge. They clawed at him, forcing him to confront the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Jason was right. Maybe this was real. Maybe his friends were still there, still fighting for him. The thought was terrifying, because it meant acknowledging how much he'd already let slip away.

When Jason walked in at exactly 3 p.m. the next day, his calm confidence faltered. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening with surprise. Tommy wasn't by the window, staring blankly into the distance. He was sitting at the table, across from where Jason usually sat.

For a moment, Jason just stood there, his shock evident in the way his breath hitched. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, soft but filled with cautious hope.

He didn't rush forward, didn't overwhelm Tommy with questions. He just walked to his chair and sat down, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, man," Jason said quietly.

Tommy didn't reply straight away, his gaze downcast. He struggled to get the words out, opening his mouth several times only to close it again. After what felt like an eternity, Tommy finally looked up. His eyes were glassy, but no tears fell.

"I'm… sorry," his voice was raw, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm sorry. About Tri." He choked out the words, feeling like it had taken every single ounce of strength to force them out. He dropped his eyes to his hands.

Jason's sharp intake of breath echoed in the room, tension hanging in the air. Tommy braced for the weight of Jason's anger, the blame, the hate. But instead, he heard Jason exhale slowly, the tension seeping out of him in that single breath.

"Tommy…" Jason's voice was low, quiet sadness instead of anger. "You don't have to apologize for what happened. It wasn't your fault."

Tommy's head snapped up, disbelief clouding his face. He had been ready for Jason's fury. After all, hadn't the Void thrown that same blame at him endlessly, cutting him open, again and again?

"I-" Tommy began, but Jason held up a hand, stopping him. "Listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "What Tri did -she made a choice. We all know the risks when we put on the uniform. Taking on that blame doesn't honor her memory."

Tommy just stared.

"She did what one of us would have done. She went into it knowing the consequences. The same way you did when you used Zedd's staff to destroy Drakkon."

Tommy pressed his fingers into the formica surface of the table, his fingers going white. "But I," he faltered, swallowing hard. The guilt was so deeply rooted that he didn't know how to let go of it. He had failed -as a leader, as a friend. How could Jason not blame him for that.

Jason leaned forward, catching Tommy's gaze, "Her not being here -that's not on you, Tommy. It never was. And she would kick your ass if she knew you were carrying this blame."

Tommy blinked. His throat tightening as the weight of Jason's words sank in. "She loved you, man. We all do. And we need you to come back.

The words hit Tommy like a tidal wave, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel something other than numbness. It wasn't a flood of relief, not yet, but it was a start. A tiny crack in the walls he had built around himself.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the weight of everything left unsaid. His voice trembled when he finally spoke, raw and uncertain. "I… I don't know if I can."

Jason didn't hesitate. "You don't have to do it alone, man. We're here, all of us." He leaned back in his chair, giving Tommy the space he needed while still making it clear that he wasn't going anywhere.

For the first time since Jason had entered the room, or maybe for the first time since he'd woken up in the white room, Tommy let his shoulders relax, just a little. The crushing weight on his chest hadn't disappeared, but it didn't feel quite as suffocating.

A lingering doubt flickered in his mind: What if this was all just another illusion, another cruel trick of the Void. But Rocky's words echoed in his head. Tommy had been more afraid of it being real -because if it was real, he wouldn't be able to retreat into the safety of denial. He'd have to face the pain. He'd have to allow himself to live again.

His gaze dropped to his hands, clenched tightly on the table, before he lifted his head and met Jason's eyes. The words barely made it past his lips, but it was there, small and fragile.

"Okay."

—

PRISM headquartersApril 2016

"Okay, Tommy. That was great. Ready for the grand finale?" Tommy wiped his clammy hands on his sweatpants and nodded, his body tense with anticipation. Tori smiled, setting aside her notepad she'd been scribbling on for the past hour.

"Give me three things you're sure are lies." she said softly, leaving back in her chair.

Tommy hesitated, his mind racing. Finally, after a long silence, he spoke. "Jason hates me." His voice was steady, but there was a tremor of doubt, as though he was still weighing the words on his tongue.

Tori's expression softened, and she gave a small, encouraging nod. "That's one. Keep going."

He shifted in his seat, wiping his hands on his sweatpants again, his thoughts spinning as he wrestled with the lies he'd lived with for so long. The next one surfaced quicker, but hit him harder. "Trini would still be alive if it weren't for me."

His voice wavered, and for a moment, it seemed like he might not be able to continue. But Tori didn't flinch, her gaze gentle, letting him know he wasn't alone.

Tommy took a deep breath, the final lie coming to him like a weight he couldn't ignore. "I don't deserve to be here."

The room was filled with a tense silence, as if the air itself had paused to take in the gravity of his confession. Tori didn't rush to fill the emptiness, giving him space to breathe through the pain.

"Good," she said softly. "Now take another breath." Tommy inhaled deeply, feeling the heaviness of his words settle over him. "Now," Tori continued, "tell me three things you're not sure about yet."

Tommy's breath hitched slightly as he exhaled. He stared at his hands, unsure of where to begin. "I'm not sure if… I'll ever find my way back. Completely." The words were a whisper, laced with a vulnerability that scared him. He kept his eyes down, afraid of what he might see in Tori's face -judgment or, worse, pity.

Tori remained silent, urging him forward with nothing more than a nod.

He bit his lip, the next uncertainty rising to the surface even as he tried to suppress it. "I'm not sure if I can forgive myself… for everything that happened."

The words were heavy, laden with the guilt he'd carried for so long. Speaking them didn't make it disappear, but the weight seemed a little lighter, like letting out a breath after holding it in for too long.

Tori waited patiently, her presence steady. Tommy closed his eyes, gathering himself. "I'm not sure I won't wake up tomorrow, back in the Void."

The silence that followed didn't feel as suffocating this time, as if releasing these doubts had loosened the tightness in the air. Tori leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but firm. "It's okay not to have all the answers yet. You're still here, still fighting. Now, three things you know for a fact are real."

Tommy's breath trembled as he exhaled, the task before him feeling deceptively simple. He closed his eyes again, searching for something sold in the fog of his mind. "Jason," he said, his voice stronger this time. "I know Jason is real."

Tori smiled, but it wasn't overwhelming, just a small gesture of support.

"I know…," he paused, the next words coming slower. 'What I feel is real. The pain, the guilt, the fear." They were emotions he had tried to bury under numbness and indifference, but there was no denying them now. They were as real as the ground beneath him, as much a part of his reality as anything else.

His hands clenched in his lap as he searched for the last truth. It came to him quietly, almost too quietly for him to say aloud. "I know that I'm still here. I'm still alive. That's real"

Tori's gaze softened further. "Good. You're doing great, Tommy. I've seen a real difference in you over these past weeks. I hope you see it too."

Tommy expected her to get up then, like she always did after their sessions. But she stayed seated, her expression thoughtful, almost hesitant. Something about her demeanor made his heart race.

"Tori?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

She sighed softly, her eyes searching his. "Tommy… we've had these sessions daily for three weeks now, and I've been waiting for you to ask. But I'm afraid it won't come on its own. Your mind's been protecting you, blocking out what's too painful. But there's something we haven't addressed."

Tommy frowned, confusion crossing his features. She had just told him he was making progress, hadn't she?

Tori's voice was patient but firm as she continued. "In all the time you've been here, Tommy, you haven't once asked about Kimberly. Or about Leah-Louise. Why do you think that is?

The names hit him like a sledgehammer. Kimberly. Leah-Louise. His breath caught in his throat, the world around him distorting, shrinking. The room blurred, the walls twisting as though made of smoke. His pulse roared in his ears, drawing out everything but those names.

"Tommy?" Tori's voice was distant, but filled with concern.

He couldn't breathe. The air was gone, replaced by the crushing weight of memories he had buried deep, memories he couldn't face. The darkness rushed in, pulling him under as his body went limp, his mind fracturing beneath the weight of her words.

From the depths of the darkness, memories rushed at him, flickering like film reels through his mind. He saw Kimberly -young, strong, her brown hair tucked behind her ears as she stood her ground in the hallway against Skull. He remembered the look she'd given him when he'd stepped in to protect her. Gratitude and something deeper.

Then the lake, their first kiss. The sunlight had shimmered on the water, too bright for the melancholy that had gripped him after losing his Green Ranger powers. But Kimberly had been there, pulling him back with her love, their kiss soft but grounding.

The memories blurred, faster now. San Francisco. Their reunion. Her standing on the porch, inviting him in, their awkwardness dissolving in a familiar embrace. Her belly round with life, the joy and fear that had filled him when she told him she was pregnant. Leah, their daughter, perfect and tiny in his arms.

The images kept coming at him, without giving him time to process: Family picnics at the park, laughter, the warmth of their weekends together. The look on Leah's face when he taught her to throw her first punch, her little fists clumsy but determined.

Then it all darkened. The Void. The place that had twisted his mind, where his family had turned into phantoms, where Kimberly had haunted him, her face hollow, her eyes empty. He had reached for her, only to watch her dissolve into smoke. The memories had been too painful. In the Void, he had made a choice -he had blocked them out to survive.

And now, the guilt crashed over him. He had forgotten them. Erased them from his mind to save himself.

Tommy gasped as he came to, his body trembling, drenched in cold sweat. He was on the floor, Tori kneeling beside him, her hand on his shoulder.

"I… I forgot them," Tommy whispered, his voice hoarse, broken. "I made myself forget Kimberly and Leah… because I couldn't handle it. I couldn't bear it."

Tori's grip on his shoulder tightened. "You did what you had to do to survive, Tommy. But now you need to remember. They're not phantoms. They are real. They're waiting for you."

"But.. Ican't." Tommy choked out, his chest heaving. "I let them go. I pushed them away because I was too weak. I let the Void win."

"No," Tori said firmly. "You're here now, fighting your way back. You didn't let the Void win."

The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, and for the first time, Tommy didn't try to hold them back.

"I don't know how to live with this." he whispered. "How can I ever face them again?"

Tori's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "Forgiveness isn't about erasing the past. It's about accepting what you had to do to survive. You didn't forget them because you don't love them. You forgot because the pain was too much. Now, you can begin to remember, and rebuild."

Tommy sat up slowly, his body stills shaking, his mind swirling with everything that had come to the surface. The room seemed to spin around him, the weight of Tori's words heavy but grounding. He met her gaze, feeling the steady reassurance in her eyes, something solid amidst the chaos inside him.

"It feels impossible," his voice faltered as he stared at the ground, his hands trembling in his lap. "Why would Kim… even want to see me again? She's better off without me, instead of with this broken figment. Her and Lee both." The words came out broken, heavy with guilt and fear.

Tori's hand stayed firm on his shoulder, grounding him in the present. "Because she knows who you are, Tommy. The real you. The one who fought, who loved, who protected them with everything he had." Her voice was soft but there was no doubt in it. "She's not waiting for you to be perfect. She's just waiting for you to come home."

Tommy swallowed hard, emotions swirling in a storm inside him. "But… I forgot them. Onpurpose."

"You didn't forget them," Tori corrected gently. "You protected them, like you always do. You kept their memory safe from the Void. That makes youhuman. And now, you get the chance to remember again, to rebuild what you lost. All three of you."

His breath hitched, the weight of those words settling over him. He had thought forgetting was the worst betrayal, but the way Tori framed it, it was as if he had been protecting something precious. Even in his darkest moments, he had fought to keep the core of who he was intact.

"I don't know if I can do this," Tommy admitted, the vulnerability of the confession making him feel even more exposed.

Tori gave him a small, understanding smile. "You don't have to know everything right now. All you need to do is take the first step."

Tommy nodded, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. It still felt impossible, like an uphill climb with no end in sight. But Tori's words were something to hold onto in the midst of the chaos.

—-

PRISM headquarters - the courtyardMay 2016

"God, I'm nervous. Why am I so nervous?" Tommy muttered, casting a sideways glance at Jason, who stood beside him with arms crossed and a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Tommy turned, ready to retreat back to the safety of his room, but Jason's hand shot out, stopping him in his tracks and spinning him back around to face the courtyard.

The PRISM headquarters courtyard was beautiful -a serene, lush space filled with vibrant flowers and meticulously trimmed shrubs. Nestled in the mountains, it felt like a perfect, secluded escape. A small pond reflected the late-afternoon sunlight, the gentle ripples glinting as the water shimmered. The scene felt almost nostalgic, eerily similar to the setting of his first kiss with Kim so many years ago. It was the perfect spot for a date -hisdate. With Kim.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Tommy groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm serious, man. I'm almost 38 and I feel like a fucking teenager again. This can't just be anxiety, right?. I've known her since we were fifteen -been in love with her for just as long- and yet here I am, acting like this is the scariest thing I've ever done." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the nerves, but they clung to him stubbornly.

Jason's smirk turned into a full grin, amusement unmistakable in his eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe that's why you're acting like this is your first high school date all over again," he teased, giving Tommy a playful shove. "I remember that too -you were almost as green as your old uniform."

Despite himself, Tommy let out a small laugh. The playful banter chipped away at his anxiety, at least a little. Just two months ago, he had barely dared to hope he'd ever feel like this again. Freed from the Void's grip, the life he had thought lost to him was slowly coming back into focus. Sure, he still woke up to nightmares more often than not, but standing there, sharing a laugh with Jason before a date with Kim, it was starting to feel like he was rebuilding, piece by piece.

Jason, noticing the shift in Tommy's mood, kept the tone still light but encouraging. "C'mon, man. You've faced down monsters, aliens, and interdimensional evildoers… and you're telling me a date with Kim is the thing that's got you shaking in your boots?"

Tommy shot him a frustrated glare. "None of those ever felt this high-stakes, Jace. This is… different." His expression sobered, eyes drifting off as memories flooded back, mixing with his uncertainty. "I don't know if we can go back to what we had. So much has changed. I have."

Jason's smirk softened into a supportive smile. He gave Tommy a solid pat on the back. "Look, man, you've both been through hell. You've survived Rita, Zedd, CIA assholes, and nine years apart. You'll figure this out too."

Tommy exhaled sharply, glancing towards the benches where Kim was probably already waiting. His heart raced at the thought of seeing her again —this was their first conversation since waking up, since he'd remembered her. "What if she doesn't want to pick up where we left off?" His voice dropped, weighed down by the fear he hadn't fully expressed until now. "I went into that fight with Drakkon knowing there was a good chance I wouldn't come back. Hell, it's a miracle I'm here at all. But I left her, and I left Leah. I put everyone through hell. After everything, why wouldn't she just walk away?"

Jason's gaze softened further, his voice quiet but steady. "She doesn't blame you, Tommy. Not for any of it. She's just happy you're back. And she's been patient -more patient than anyone expected, knowing her. But she's waiting for you, man. She's giving you the space to heal, but now? It's your move."

Tommy closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath. Jason was right. Kim had been there for him, even from a distance. She had been the one to make sure Jason brought things from home -his clothes, photos of Leah… She'd given him the tools he needed to remember and she'd given him the time he needed to adjust. She had waited. Now, it was up to him.

Squaring his shoulders, Tommy nodded to Jason, determination mingling with lingering nerves. He turned and started walking towards the benches, each step feeling heavier than the last. Rounding the final corner, he spotted Kim sitting beneath a bloomin tree, her face calm, though her hands fidgeted in her lap -a sign of her own nervousness. She looked older, wiser, yet still as beautiful as ever. His heart ached at the sight of her. He wasn't that fifteen-year-old boy anymore, but his feelings for her? They hadn't changed.

"Hi, Beautiful," he said softly as he approached, the weight of the moment pressing down on them both.

Kim looked up, their eyes locking. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, her gaze softening as she smiled.

"Hi, Handsome."

—-

The Oliver residenceAugust 2016

Tommy sat on the front porch, listening intently through the screen door as Kim's voice drifted out to him. Inside, she was gently explaining to Leah about miracles -how they sometimes happened when you least expected them, and how they had been granted one. His heart clenched at the sound of his daughter's small, fragile voice asking, "Daddy's home?"

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and wiped at his eyes. It had been so long since he'd heard her voice, seen her eyes light up at the sight of him. "Yeah, baby," he whispered to himself, "daddy's home."

Leah cried for a solid hour when she opened the door to find Tommy standing there, awkwardly holding a stuffed brachiosaurus. He'd felt so out of place, caught between joy and heartbreak as he watched her face transform from confusion to sheer happiness. Her tiny arms had flown around his waist, and in that moment, he'd felt every piece of his broken heart start to mend.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm back," he said, his voice thick with emotion as he knelt down to her level. "I'm so sorry I was gone for so long."

"They said you weren't coming back!" Leah exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief yet shining with hope. "But I never believed them! You said you would always come back to me. You promised, and you never break a promise." She'd pressed her face into his chest, tightening her arms around him, as if he might disappear again.

Tommy glanced at Kim, who stood just a few steps away, her expression a mixture of relief and heartache. He wanted to reassure them both, to tell Leah that he would never leave again. "I'm so sorry, baby girl," he murmured, rubbing Leah's back gently. "But I'm here now, and I'm going to make it up to you. That's another daddy promise."

Leah pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his face. "You mean it? You're not going anywhere again? Not even to go look for boring old dinosaur bones in Hawaii?" Tommy locked eyes with her, feeling a rush of warmth. "Not a chance. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving you or your mom ever again."

His baby's face broke into a bright smile, and in that moment, Tommy felt the weight of the world lift from his heart. He felt the warmth of her love envelop him, easing the guilt that had pressed on him since his return.

Kim stepped forward, placing a hand on Leah's shoulder. "How about we all celebrate your dad being home? I've got lasagna in the oven and ice cream for dessert."

"Yes! Ice cream!" Leah cheered, bouncing on her feet.

"Dinner first," came the twin reprimands from both Tommy and Kim, their voices mingling in a familiar cadence. Tommy chuckled, looking at Kim with a glimmer of the easy rapport they once shared.

"Okay, fine! Dinner first," Leah pouted dramatically, crossing her arms as if it were the most unfortunate punishment imaginable. But the spark in her eyes betrayed her excitement.

Dinner was a quiet affair, a little awkward at first, but luckily Leah didn't notice. She babbled away, taking it upon herself to bring her dad up to speed on everything he'd missed while he was away. "... and then Olli pulled my braids, and I punched him. Uncle Jace pretended to be mad at me for hurting Olli, but Anne told me he said Olli had it coming. She said he said that Olli shouldn't pick on girls, especially not ones with a right hook like mine."

Tommy tried to keep his smile in check after seeing Kim's expression about the violence, but he couldn't help it. His heart swelled with pride at his daughter. "That's my girl! You showed him not to mess with an Oliver, huh?" He grinned at her, and for a moment it felt like no time had passed at all.

Leah beamed at him, clearly enjoying his attention and praise. "Yeah, daddy, you told me I should always stand up for what's right. And bullying somebody isn't right."

"No, it definitely isn't," Tommy said, nodding firmly. "I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself. Just remember, it's important to talk about things too. Sometimes talking can solve problems better than a punch." He emphasized the last word with a grin, hoping to keep the mood light.

"Okay, okay. I'll talk first and punch second!" Leah exclaimed, throwing her arms up dramatically, her little face scrunching in concentration as she tried to think of her next battle strategy.

Kim chuckled, shaking her head. "I think maybe we can skip the punching altogether, Lee-Lou."

"Fine," Leah pouted for a moment and Tommy laughed at the mirror image she presented of Kim, when things didn't go her way. The warmth spread in his heart as he watched his daughter, brave and strong. "Remember, Lee-Lou, even superheroes try to talk first." Tommy added with a wink.

"Yeah, but what if the bad guys don't listen?" Leah shot back, her brows furrowing in thought.

"Then you just have to make sure they understand how serious you are," Kim chimed in, a soft smile on her lips. "Maybe give them a little reminder of how strong you are."

Leah nodded enthusiastically. "Right! I could show them my most awesome backflip," she punctuated her words with a little wiggle in her seat. "And my superhero cape. Can I have a cape, daddy?"

"Absolutely," Tommy replied, "every superhero needs a cape. And maybe a cool sidekick."

Leah's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Oh, yeah! Like Uncle Jace!" She giggled at the thought. "He could be my sidekick and help me fight crime!"

"Uncle Jace would be the best sidekick," Kim agreed, stifling her laughter. "But first finish your dinner, superhero. You need fuel for all that crime fighting and backflipping."

Their daughter sighed dramatically, but she picked up her fork and took a bite of her food. As they ate, the awkwardness that had hung in the room evaporated entirely. He bantered with Kim about easy superficial stuff, reminiscent of the easy connection they once had. When a silence fell, Leah was quick to fill it with her exuberance, sharing tales of school adventures and her friends, each story weaving Tommy back into a sense of normalcy.

After dinner, Tommy and Leah found themselves on the back porch, sitting in the old wooden swing that creaked softly beneath them. The sun had long since set, and the warm night air wrapped around them like a soft blanket. The stars began to twinkle overhead, creating a beautiful backdrop for their reunion.

Leah nestled against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She'd been asking him question after question, but Tommy noticed her words came slower, her breathing evening out. He thought she was asleep when she asked him another question.

"Daddy, are you going to be here when I wake up?" Her voice was soft and sleepy, pulling at his heartstrings. Tommy looked down, brushing a gentle hand over her hair, the familiar scent of her shampoo bringing back memories of bathtime giggles and bedtime stories.

"Of course, sweetie," he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. 'I'm not going anywhere. I promise I'll be right here when you wake up."

Leah sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his chest. "Okay," she whispered, reassured by the conviction in her father's tone. "I love you, daddy."

"I love you too, Lee-Lou," he replied, but she was already fast asleep. It felt surreal to be sitting there, holding his daughter, having her feel safe and loved in his embrace. It was a feeling he had missed more than he could express.

Minutes passed quietly. Tommy listened to the soft sounds of the night -the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the crickets chirping in the distance, and the occasional hoot of an owl. The moon illuminated the porch with a gentle glow, casting soft shadows that danced across the wooden floor. It was peaceful, and he was grateful for this moment of serenity, knowing that he was finally back where he belonged.

He felt Kim's eyes on him for a while before she finally spoke. "Do you want me to put her to bed?" she whispered, careful not to wake their daughter. Tommy shook his head, his hand brushing gently over Leah's back. "No. I've missed too much already," he said quietly. "I can't bear to miss any more. This… this is what we both need."

She came over and sat beside him, their shoulders touching as the swing rocked gently. They sat in silence for a while, listening to Leah's soft breaths and the sounds of the night around them. "I'm so sorry, Kim," he said, breaking the quiet with a thick voice. "For leaving you both. I know I've said it before, but I really am. I swear, I'll never do anything that reckless again."

Kim dropped her head on his shoulder and took his hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "Shh," she said softly. "After what I did to protect the team back then, I'm not in any position to judge. Besides… if you hadn't done it, you wouldn't be the guy I fell in love with in the first place." She smiled faintly, a touch of the old spark in her eyes.

He closed his eyes, letting her words sink in, letting the soft breeze blow away some of the guilt.

They stayed like that for a long time, sitting together on the porch with Leah sleeping soundly in his arms. Eventually, Tommy carried Leah to her bed, tucking her in gently before returning to Kim.

As he followed her into their bedroom, the awkwardness returned, uncertainty creeping back in. He hesitated near the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you sure it's okay that I'm… here? I mean, I can take the couch if you'd rather." His voice faltered. "I know I'm not okay yet, I still… I still have nightmares. I still wake up not knowing what's real. I still need Tori's exercises and consciously remind myself what's real. It's… it's hard, Kim."

She turned to him, her expression soft but firm. "We've spent enough time apart, Tommy," she said, stepping closer. "We missed having you around. I missed you. The rest… the rest is confetti."

His lips pulled into a half-smile, remembering those words from when he'd spoken them to her after their first reunion in San Francisco so many years ago.

Her hand found his fingers, intertwining them as she closed the distance between them. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his. The kiss was gentle, but it carried the weight of lost time, of unspoken words. When she pulled back, there was no hesitation in her eyes.

"Come to bed, Tommy," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth, longing and love. And as Tommy followed her toward the bed, he felt something unfurl in his chest -hope.