"maybe we're too clever to be falling in love like this" (saving jane)

[starandrea]

My current RPM story is "straight up," which follows what I owe you and dare you to ask. It also includes character cameos from Ninja Storm, Wild/Time Force, and Jungle Fury. Probably the only surprising one is RJ, currently a girl thanks to Törököt Fogott ♥

I'm reposting the first six parts of "straight up" from my starhawkfic livejournal community here, followed by part seven (hope) and a totally topical screencap from the original RPM preview. Sparkles! :)


straight up

"I don't understand why you feel the need to burn things." Dr. K was working at the kitchen table for once, on a tiny laptop instead of the hulking computer screens she usually hid behind. She was pretending not to pay any attention to the preparations going on around her.

"Well, I don't understand why you'd have to ask," Dillon said, banging on the table as he passed and getting a glare in return. "So we're even."

"I didn't ask," she informed him. "I merely made an observation."

"Yeah, here's another one," he said, swinging around the counter and stealing a marshmallow while Ziggy wasn't looking. "Don't wear that."

"Don't wear--what, this?" She actually glanced down at herself as though she had no idea what she wore every single day. "Why not?"

"Are you eating my marshmallows?" Ziggy demanded.

Dillon took another one. "Yeah, why?"

"Because!" Ziggy exclaimed. "They're for the s'mores!"

"What's a s'more?" he asked, amused by Ziggy's sputter and only partly distracted by the way Dr. K was now totally ignoring him. "Hey," he said, chucking the marshmallow in her direction. "Catch."

She did--without flinching, without even looking up--and he tried but he couldn't figure out if she'd been watching out of the corner of her eye or if she'd reacted after he said something. More interesting was the fact that she actually ate it. One hand still on the keyboard, the other holding the marshmallow: it took her three bites but she licked her fingers afterwards and the sight made him smile.

"S'mores are delicious sandwiches of goodness," Ziggy was saying, "which always leave you wanting some more. Hence the name. If you'd leave some of the marshmallows for the campfire, you could try one yourself."

Correctly deducing that this didn't require an answer, Dillon sat down across from the laptop and stared over it until she looked up. "Yes?"

"Corinth has bugs," he said. "I assume you're familiar with the concept of crepuscular biting insects? It's sunset. They're going to eat you alive."

"I think not," Dr. K said, returning her attention to the computer.

"I think yes," Dillon countered. "Also, your lab coat is going to smell like smoke, and I happen to know that Summer has been too distracted to do laundry for... let's say quite a while. So unless you're planning to do it yourself, or you for some reason don't mind smelling like a campfire, I suggest you change."

"I am capable of doing laundry," she told the laptop.

"So am I," Dillon said. "Doesn't mean I'm falling over myself to volunteer."

"Unless it's yours," Ziggy called from the refrigerator. "Hey, that could work! Just get Dillon to do your laundry instead of Summer."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Dillon said.

Dr. K didn't look up. "Starting when?"

He assumed this was directed at him. "What?"

She did stop typing then, and she caught his eye with a look that was either amused or unimpressed. Sometimes it was hard to tell. "Responding to something necessarily indicates that you are, on some level, aware of it. If you didn't hear Ziggy's suggestion, did you perceive it on some other level? Or are you planning to start pretending you didn't hear it later?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Dillon repeated, "to the extent that I will forego physical retribution. Clear enough?"

"A verbal warning is technically physical retribution," she pointed out. "Since your vocal chords are, physically, a part of you."

He put both arms on the table and stared back at her, willing his smile away. "That," he said, "is a petty argument about semantics that I personally think is beneath you."

Dr. K blinked. She didn't look away, though, and after a moment she admitted, "I... have no idea what to say to that."

He couldn't keep from smiling any longer. "And that's what I like about you, Doc. You give it to us straight up. No matter what it is."

"Does that mean that you're going to do her laundry?" Ziggy wanted to know. He was hanging over the kitchen counter, looking unabashedly interested in their conversation.

"Excuse me," Dillon said, pushing his chair back. "I have some physical retribution to exact now."


enough to ask

Ziggy hadn't been sure Dr. K even owned regular clothes. And maybe it didn't count just because she'd taken off her lab coat, but the dark pants she was wearing with her usual sweater and blouse looked suspiciously like jeans. He kept trying to check, to look closely enough to be sure one way or the other, but she was really good at catching people trying to sneak up on her.

When Dillon started to frown at him, he realized two things. One, it didn't look good to be repeatedly staring at Dr. K's butt, and two, if there was anyone on the team he didn't want mad at him, it was Dillon. So he blurted out, "Hey, Dr. K, are those jeans?"

She was still hunched over her laptop while the rest of them loaded up the camping gear: wood and kindling and folding chairs and marshmallow toasting sticks, the marshmallows themselves, more food, drinks... they were probably forgetting something. Bug repellent? Warm clothes?

"In terms of DNA, or clothing?" Dr. K asked without looking up.

Ziggy blinked. "Uh, what?"

"Clothing," Dillon said. "He's surprised you're wearing jeans."

"Many things seem to surprise Series Green." Dr. K frowned at the screen, tapping briefly on the keyboard and then tilting her head to study the result. She didn't say anything else, and Ziggy wondered if that was the whole answer.

"Okay." He sat down at the table, prompting Flynn to yell for whatever he'd been sent to get in the kitchen. Ziggy couldn't really remember what it was, but he saw Dillon adding something to his armful of stuff and he figured it was covered. "What's it gonna take to get you to call me Ziggy?"

Dr. K glanced down at the keyboard as she started typing again. "Do you want me to call you Ziggy?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "I mean, I get that Dillon's special and all, but there's nothing wrong with us, right? I like the Ranger title thing as much as the next person--really, it's great--but it would totally help with the whole garagemate part of the deal if you maybe sometimes used our names."

She didn't look up. "Very well."

"Look, I'm just saying," Ziggy began, and then his brain caught up. "Wait, what?"

"Very well," Dr. K repeated. "I will endeavor to use your given name instead of your operator designation when appropriate."

"What, just like that?" he demanded. "All we had to do was ask?"

She shrugged. "Dillon did."

"Yeah, but--" Ziggy sputtered to a halt, not totally sure whether the more important question was when or how. Dillon said she'd called him by name since they met, and he couldn't quite imagine Dillon asking Dr. K for anything back then.

"'Asked' might be overstating it," Dillon said dryly. His gaze raked across them as he passed the table again, heading back into the kitchen. "I told her to call me Dillon. And if I recall, she told me to go to hell."

"You obviously don't recall," Dr. K replied, still watching something on her screen. "I'm quite certain I never told any of the Ranger operators to go to hell."

"I could hear you thinking it," Dillon said over his shoulder.

Dr. K raised her eyebrows at the screen. "I find that unlikely."

Dillon didn't answer, so Ziggy asked, "Uh, so, why did you? I mean, why do you? Call him Dillon? Unless that's a stupid question, in which case, you guys should totally be more obvious. Because we're all pretty sure you like each other, but the betting pool is based on the assumption you haven't actually kissed yet."

Dr. K lifted her head to stare at him. "Excuse me?"

"Uh..." Ziggy looked back into the kitchen, where Dillon stood frozen with bottles in both hands. Okay, so they hadn't thought of that yet. Or were they shocked that he'd seen through them?

No, he decided. That was a genuinely stunned look on Dillon's face. If the two of them were actually making out behind their backs, he would look at least a little amused. Or smug. Or even innocent--Dillon had a particularly entertaining innocent expression which worked on exactly none of them except Scott. And sometimes Flynn. And Summer, once.

It worked on Ziggy all the time, which drove him crazy. But the point was that he knew what it looked like, and this wasn't it. This was Dillon actually being surprised that someone had mentioned him, Dr. K, and kissing all in the same sentence. Which meant that someone seriously needed to teach the guy how to court a girl, or they were all going to get clipped by pre-dating antagonism for possibly the rest of their lives.

"Yeah," Ziggy said, turning back to the table. "What I'm saying is that if you were actually together, it would be kind of stupid for me to ask why you call him Dillon, but everyone's betting you're not, so if you are you should be more obvious about it so we can adjust the pool, right? Hello? Is this making sense?"

"Not really, no." Dr. K was looking at her laptop again, apparently dismissing him the way she always did when he said something she found stupid.

There was no answer from behind him, and Ziggy smiled. It didn't take much to make Dillon think. It just wasn't always the usual things that did it.


better because of you

It had already been dark when they rolled up to the beach, and Dillon assumed that was the only reason Flynn's vehicle didn't draw more attention. Its hulking silhouette was uniquely distinctive to his eye, but he was used to other people not being good with the details. They hadn't exactly kept their voices down while they were unloading, and the little campfire wasn't subtle on the sand, but other beachgoers were giving them a wide berth.

"Flashlights," Ziggy said, for the twenty-seventh time. He was rooting around in the cooler, trying to tilt it toward the fire without spilling everything all over the beach, and he complained, "I knew we were forgetting something."

There was plenty of light for Dillon, but it had been funny to watch Scott and Flynn trying to organize the fire. Summer had gotten it lit, but only after they'd given each other splinters, fumbled the kindling, and tried to ignore Ziggy's completely unhelpful advice. Dillon wasn't sure why they had done it when he could build and light a fire in under two minutes--without pre-supplied fuel or kindling--but they didn't ask, so he didn't offer.

"Give it here." Dillon reached out and hooked the cooler with one finger, dragging it toward him. "What do you want?"

He didn't bother to wonder why he helped Ziggy without being asked, when the rest of the Rangers' activities still struck him as invitation-only. No more than he wondered why Dr. K was sitting serenely on the same piece of driftwood he was leaning against, instead of in one of the chairs. These things just were, and it really didn't matter if he understood them or not.

"Thanks," Ziggy said, flopping down beside him with his drink. "You want anything, Dr. K? Another drink? More chocolate? Marshmallows to burn?"

She had to have been doing it on purpose, but Dr. K had caught every single one of her marshmallows on fire. He'd been surprised she agreed to the activity in the first place; he thought at first that she was deliberately trying to sabotage it. But she'd eaten them all. Most of the blackened marshmallows went directly into her mouth--or at least, from her marshmallow stick to her fingers to her mouth--but at one point she'd sandwiched a couple between crackers and chocolate and she'd eaten that too.

"More bug repellent," Dr. K said, and he heard her waving invisible bugs away yet again. "I thought smoke kept them away."

If there were any bugs on the beach at all, he hadn't noticed them. Corinth was a lot more insect-friendly than some of the places he'd been in the last year, but the beach was actually kind of familiar. The sand, the wind, the fire... even the water, sometimes.

"Sit next to Dillon," Ziggy was saying. "The bugs don't bother him. He has some kind of magical anti-bug aura."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dillon muttered. Which was true, even if he was pretty sure Ziggy had just implied that Dr. K wasn't close enough. To Dillon. And it wasn't that he minded; the Rangers were always hanging all over him. It was just what they did.

But someone could have asked him, right? It wasn't like it mattered that they all thought he and Dr. K were tight. But if they were going to harass him about it every time they turned around, they could at least ask him if it was true.

"I'm already next to him," Dr. K said. "And I assure you, whatever aura you think he has is not helping."

"Have a blanket," Scott offered. He rooted one out of the pile and got up, walking it carefully around the fire to her. When she just stared up at him he added, "It's another layer between you and the bugs. Trust me, it makes them way less annoying."

"And you less cold," Summer added. She already had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, knees pulled up in front of her camp chair as she smiled at them. "That makes everything more tolerable."

"The trick is to get low," Dillon grumbled, holding up his hand for the blanket. Scott hadn't glared at him yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time before their fearless leader decided it was his fault Dr. K was unhappy. "Here."

He leaned forward, tossing the blanket over the log behind him and pulling a corner of it onto the sand. "Sit," he said, pointing at the blanket-covered sand.

Dr. K looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but at least she didn't point out that she was already sitting. "Why?"

"Because you have less exposed surface area when you're on the ground," Dillon told her. "It's warmer, it's less buggy, and if I have an aura it probably doesn't extend very far. So. Conduct a trial or something."

She stared at him the same way she'd stared at Scott, but this time when she shook her head she also moved. Off the driftwood, onto the blanket. Next to him. He flipped the far corner of the blanket up over her shoulder, not looking at her face, ignoring any expression Scott might have as he made his way back to his chair.

"You have to put it around you, too," Ziggy said, tugging the other end of the blanket around Dillon. "Otherwise the bugs just sneak in between you. Everyone knows that."

It was the last straw. "If everyone would mind their own business," Dillon snapped, "that would be great. Okay? Just back the hell off."

He saw Flynn hold up his hands in surrender on the other side of the fire, but Summer scoffed. "Please," she said. "If we minded our own business, you'd be in jail and Dr. K would still be locked in her little control room. I think this team has made your lives slightly better, don't you?"

That was too much, even from her. "Like I'd still be in jail," he sneered.

Summer just raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, that wasn't the question, was it."

"Okay," Ziggy jumped in. "Now would be a great time to talk about something else, because if I know Dillon, and I think I do, he's about to say something that will make at least one of us really mad and he'll probably feel bad about it later. But he won't apologize, because he thinks it's true, and even though you don't have to say every single true thing that springs to mind, no one ever told him that. Apparently.

"So," Ziggy continued, talking too fast to let any of them get a word in. "Yeah, Dillon could have gotten out of jail. Trust me, I was there. Thanks for taking me, by the way; did I ever thank you for that? Thanks. That was nice.

"Ziggy," Dillon said.

"Also," Ziggy continued, ignoring him, "Dr. K obviously doesn't need to be dragged away from her work every time you guys decide to humor me with the whole team-building thing. We all totally get that. But I think we can agree that it's good for morale to have you with us, right? Right."

"Ziggy," Dillon repeated.

"And furthermore--"

"Okay!" Dillon said loudly. "Okay, Ziggy, stop. I get it. Okay?"

He could feel Ziggy staring at him, head tilted, squinting in the firelight as he lifted a finger to emphasize his question. "Do you?

"Yeah," Dillon told him. "I totally do."

Ziggy took a deep breath, almost silent, maybe unnoticeable to the others. "Well, all I'm saying is that my life is better because of you guys. And I wouldn't be able to say that if you hadn't taken a chance on me. So. Thanks for that."

"Yeah," Dillon repeated grudgingly. "Fine. My life is better too. Happy?"

He was slumped down against the log, trying to ignore the blanket Ziggy had pulled over his shoulders, trying harder to ignore the fact that Dr. K was sitting right next to him and whose brilliant idea had that been? He folded his arms, staring at the fire. Deliberately not looking across it at the others.

Who were strangely quiet, and after a moment Dr. K said, "Why are you all looking at me? I don't have anything to say."

And Dillon couldn't help but smile. "Straight up, Doc," he murmured.

"Well, obviously," she continued, "without operators the Ranger technology is largely useless. So I suppose, in that sense..."

She trailed off. He hadn't expected her to go on at all, but now that she'd started he wanted to know how she was going to finish. He glanced over at her and found her frowning at the fire.

"You're all very--good at what you do," Dr. K said. Awkward. Complimentary for the first time since he'd known her. "You... perform adequately in defense of this city."

"Making your life better," Ziggy finished, when no one else said anything. "Yeah," he added. "We know."


being there

That was the last they saw of Dr. K for several days. Between the malfunction in Flynn's suit and the new megazord design she was working on, they were lucky if they saw her for training, let alone meals. Flynn got all their training spots the day his suit freaked on them.

Flynn also got near-exclusive interruption privileges afterwards, which Ziggy could tell drove Dillon crazy. Scott and Summer didn't seem to care... or at least, they seemed used to it. Ziggy interrupted her anyway, but she yelled at him for it more. Dillon made the mistake of assuming that "go away" actually meant "leave me alone," and nothing Ziggy said could talk him out of it.

So the morning they were scheduled for a vid conference with the tower, everyone ended up standing around in the briefing room until the screen actually lit up and Colonel Truman was there, looking back at them. Ziggy still found him kind of creepy. He tried to make sure he was standing next to someone scarier than he was when the colonel was around. Even if it was just on a screen.

"Good morning," Colonel Truman said, while they were all still looking around like Dr. K might have snuck in while they weren't paying attention. It was the tone of voice that said, I know everything you've ever done.

"Colonel." Scott nodded at the screen, and Ziggy wondered if his dad ever regretted reprimanding Scott for his lack of formality. He must have, right? Scott didn't act like that with anyone else.

"Dillon," Scott added. "Would you let Dr. K know we're ready?"

That was politer than Scott ever was, too, but it didn't have any effect on Dillon. He didn't even straighten up. "You hear the violin?" he countered. "She's busy."

"She approved this meeting," Scott said, turning a little away from the screen.

Dillon just stared back at him. "She can tell time."

"I'll get her," Summer said, and she came close to rolling her eyes without actually doing it. That was a trick Ziggy wanted to learn. "Sorry, Colonel. It'll just be a moment."

"We'll wait," he replied. In a tone that implied, At a thousand dollars an hour.

So they just looked at each other while Summer stuck her head into the training room--then, after a brief hesitation, walked the rest of the way in. The violin didn't stop. Ziggy shifted, glancing away from the screen.

If Summer said anything, he couldn't hear it, but the music abruptly cut off. There was another pause, and Summer's voice was very quiet when she said, "We're ready in the garage whenever you are."

Too quiet. Something was wrong. Ziggy looked at Dillon and saw him staring in the direction of the doors.

"Thank you, Ranger Series Yellow." Dr. K's voice was just audible around the corner, and Ziggy thought maybe it was his imagination that it sounded a little off--but Dillon had stopped slouching. "I'll be right there."

Summer reappeared in the doorway but she stayed there, out of range of the camera pickup, and shook her head at them. When Scott raised his eyebrows at her, she made a "cut" motion that anyone could understand. Dr. K wasn't coming?

"I'm sorry," Scott said smoothly, turning back to the screen. "We'll need to reschedule. Can you give us half an hour to get back to you?"

"Is something wrong?" Colonel Truman wanted to know.

"We'll get back to you," Scott repeated. "Half an hour, Colonel."

Dillon was already heading for the training room, so Ziggy thought it couldn't hurt to follow. Until Summer stopped them both at the door, actually catching Dillon's arm when he didn't pay any attention to her. "Hold up, guys," she said. "Just give her a second, okay?"

"Why, what's wrong?" Ziggy wanted to know. "Is she okay?"

With a sigh, Summer shifted her weight. "She's fine. She just needs a second. Dillon, I'm not kidding, you can't just go charging in."

"Why not?" he demanded. "It's the training room. Maybe I want to train. It's a free base."

"Oh, good," Summer said. "Thanks for interjecting elementary school wit into the conversation. That changes everything."

"What's going on?" Flynn asked, as he and Scott joined them in the doorway.

"Is Dr. K all right?" Scott wanted to know.

From behind Summer, Dr. K's voice inquired, "What part of 'I'll be right there' was confusing to you?"

As soon as Ziggy saw her, he knew. She'd been crying. Her eyes were red and her nose was pink and he'd never thought she needed a hug more than he thought it right now. Unfortunately, she was still Dr. K, and it was hard to imagine giving her a hug without her looking at him like he was a moron.

"I think it might have been the part where we didn't really hear you," he said instead. "Yeah, 'cause we were way over there? By the screen? And you were in there, and you and Summer were talking kind of quietly, so we couldn't actually hear you at all. Did you say you'd be right there? I didn't hear that. Did you hear that?"

He was nominally asking Dillon, not that he expected an answer, but it was Flynn who shook his head. "I didna hear anything except Scott telling his da we need another half an hour. And the telling of it was pretty funny, too. I don' think the colonel's used to being asked to wait."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dr. K said. "I ask him to wait all the time."

"Good," Dillon said gruffly. "So we can eat. Next time can we schedule this thing for after breakfast, instead of during it?"

Ziggy knew for a fact that Dillon had already eaten. Furthermore, both Scott and Summer had made breakfast at the same time he had. But it was Summer who complained that she was hungry, and if Flynn was telling the truth when he backed her up he was probably the only one.

"I did tell him we'd get back to him," Scott told Dr. K. "In half an hour."

"Very well," she said, unexpectedly compliant. "Far be it for me to interfere with one of your more practical social rituals."

Ziggy grinned. "That means you'll join us, right? Come on, you totally will. We'll split it up: we'll be social, and you can be practical."

"I'll make you a smoothie," Flynn added.

"I'll just have some toast," Dr. K said.

"Aye, and a smoothie," Flynn agreed.

A sigh was her only answer.

That, Ziggy thought, was a win on so many levels.


doctor k

The training room was a disaster. It was also empty, and that was what made Dillon stop while the others ran ahead, exclaiming over the damage and yelling for Dr. K. He stared around the room, taking in every place big enough to hide a person and ruling them out just as fast. She wasn't hiding.

They'd all heard Tenaya over the comm. They'd been meant to hear her, she'd been talking to them--mocking them and their inability to help--and he was going to smash her face in the next time he saw her. But Dr. K had never backed down, not in the face of anything, which meant she wasn't hiding.

She could have been taken, certainly; the signs were there in the scorch marks and scattered equipment and the way the sonic cannon lay abandoned on the floor. Dillon didn't buy it, though. He didn't know how the fuck Tenaya kept getting in, but he'd seen Dr. K fight. She fought over stupid things like her life depended on it... and when it came to Venjix and its minions, she would die before she surrendered.

It was a cold certainty in the face of an empty control room, but it was a certainty nonetheless. Venjix would never capture Dr. K. The realization had hit him hard but he was learning to live with it, even if it meant there were only two possible outcomes to any danger she faced: she'd either come through free, or she was dead.

Every screen in the training room went white simultaneously, and Dillon turned around. He could hear the others slowing, looking up, curious even as he figured it out. The door to the control room was closed.

He was already striding toward it when a "K" appeared in the center of each of those screens. He didn't have to look to know there would be a little voiceprint bar at the bottom of the larger ones. Why she thought that would work, he had no idea.

"Rangers," Dr. K's voice began, and at least it was her voice, not the synthesized scrambler she'd been using when he first arrived. He didn't wait to hear what she would say.

"Hey," he said loudly, banging on the control room door. "Doc. Turn off the damn screens and get out here."

The rest of the team was staring at him even as Dr. K continued, "The new megazord configuration is fully powered and ready for controlled testing. Tomorrow's training sessions will be devoted to--"

"What?" Dillon demanded, pounding his fist on the door in a way that probably sounded even more obnoxious on the other side. It was a small room; he would drive her crazy with the noise if nothing else. "Sorry, can't hear you through the door. What are you saying? Something about having tomorrow off; is that it?"

"Ranger Black," her voice said coolly. "Step away from the door."

"Fuck you," he snapped, and it was reflexive, unintentional. Like he cared if she used his name or not.

Except, yeah. Apparently he did.

The other Rangers were gathering around him, finally getting the picture. She wasn't hiding from Tenaya. She was hiding from them. And anything that could make her do that after everything they'd been through together had to be really, exceptionally bad.

"Look, Tenaya was here," he continued, talking to the closed door instead of the screens. "She can change her voice. How do we know it's even you in there?"

"Tenaya 7 would not be able to get in here." She sounded angry and hateful and raw. A long way from the calm scorn he had been expecting.

"Yeah, and that's what we keep saying about the garage," he shot back. "So far I'm not impressed with your follow through." He didn't know if it would make her more furious or less, but it was the first thing that came to mind and he was fucking tired of letting her have her way.

"Ranger Black." The voice that came over the audio link was icy and he could hear the much quieter echo of it through the door. "Kindly go to hell."

"Been there," he snapped. "Done that. I'll peel this door away from the wall if I have to. You gotta know I can do it."

The screens went dark and the door hissed open at the same time. He didn't question it, just lunged through the door and grabbed the back of her chair. The part of his brain that was still thinking knew it was stupid and the rest of him didn't care.

Dillon didn't actually remember picking her up. He was pretty sure she had been scrunched up in her chair, knees drawn tight to her chest, hair tousled and tear tracks on her cheeks. How she ended up pressed against his body he didn't really know.

She was standing, at least. She couldn't be too badly hurt if she was that tense, unable to hit him with her arms pinned between them and his wrapped around behind her back. He couldn't let go. He knew she would tell him to, and he didn't... he just didn't care anymore.

Then her face was buried in his chest and she wasn't stiff at all. She was shaking and he was holding her up and he had no idea how it had happened but he thought she was crying. He heard himself mutter, "Hey, it's okay," like it ever was, and even "it's gonna be fine" which no one had any right to promise.

The rest of them were standing in the doorway. Ziggy and Summer had been pushed through by Scott and Flynn, all of them trying to see, to make sure she was okay. It didn't matter, because he could hear her and he had no idea what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry." Over and over, she just kept saying it, a constant hitch in her breath that was muffled by his shirt and probably inaudible to anyone else. "I didn't mean it; I just wanted to get away."

It made his grip on her tighten, holding her harder in the face of a too-familiar longing. "I know," he murmured. "Me too."

She didn't move, and for several long minutes, everything was quiet.


glass half full

Flynn coordinated dinner, but he made all of them help. Even Dr. K. Summer made sure everyone had wine, which Ziggy didn't think was a good idea after the day they'd had but he wasn't going to be the one to turn it down. None of the others did either, he noticed.

Scott set the table, and Dillon pretended total incompetence when it came to vegetables. Flynn had fallen for that the first time he tried to get them to help out in the kitchen, but he was long past it now. He gave Dillon a knife and told him, "Half centimeter slices. No more, no less."

Ziggy found himself in charge of the marinade, which he figured was a compliment. Dr. K was just supposed to crush up some bread crumbs from their leftover cheese crackers, but even that wasn't going well for her. She was predictably overthinking it, and she had way more questions than anyone with a pestle should ask.

"Refill," Dillon said, as Summer reached around him for something on the counter. He nodded at the glass next to him, and when she rolled her eyes he added, "Please."

"You're awfully enthusiastic for someone who says alcohol doesn't affect him," she remarked, rescuing his glass and topping it off anyway.

Dillon set the knife down and took his glass back. "It's not for me." He stepped around her, hand brushing against her shoulder, and Ziggy heard him mutter, "Thanks."

Summer didn't answer, turning to watch as he approached Dr. K. "Hey," Dillon said, louder. "I'm right behind you, so watch what you're doing with that thing."

"I don't know what I'm doing with this thing," she snapped. "This is an inexact process, and I don't have enough information."

"Uh-huh." Dillon put his free hand on her shoulder and she went immediately still. Ziggy and Summer exchanged glances. Only Scott and Flynn were still talking, trying to negotiate the cookies for dessert--with dinner, or after it?

"I've found that pleading ignorance sometimes works with Flynn," Dillon was saying, setting the wine down on the counter beside Dr. K. "And when it doesn't, sometimes someone else is willing to help."

"Well, we don't all have a Ziggy," she said. It was very clear, and Ziggy blinked, pausing in the act of picking up the knife Dillon had abandoned. The marinade was ready; it wasn't like he couldn't chop a few vegetables.

"Everyone should be so lucky," Dillon agreed, plucking the pestle out of her hand. "But even I can crush crackers. Drink your wine."

"I notice you aren't drinking yours," Dr. K said.

Ziggy saw Summer smile out of the corner of his eye. Flynn and Scott were bringing their argument back into the kitchen, but there was a pause between sentences long enough for Ziggy to hear Dillon say, "I already had some. That's for you."

And Flynn, proving he could pay attention to multiple conversations at once, exclaimed, "Are you daft, man? She must weigh a hundred pounds; she can't drink two glasses of wine!"

Thereby ensuring that she would, Ziggy thought, watching Dr. K scowl at Flynn. Interesting tactic. He wouldn't drink two glasses of wine in a row, not around these guys--well, Dillon, maybe. But only because he knew Dillon wouldn't laugh at him. Much.

Dr. K didn't do more than finish the first one before dinner, though, and he figured she'd be better off once she'd eaten something. Aside from a slight flush--which was really kind of cute, and he came close to saying so before reason reasserted itself--she seemed fine. She let Dillon pull out her chair for her, and she actually smiled at Summer when the Yellow Ranger went to serve her, so maybe the wine did help a little.

He almost said something when Dillon went to refill her glass, though. Three was definitely too many, and Dillon had put his own glass next to her plate. When Dillon took a sip from her glass and set it in his place instead, Ziggy closed his mouth and tried very hard not to smile. Grin. Okay, laugh, because that was adorable.

Unfortunately, there was a very real chance they might kill him for saying so. There was an even bigger chance that they might stop... well, being like that, at least for tonight. He didn't want that on his head.

He settled for trading looks with Summer and pretending not to notice when Dillon goaded Dr. K into eating cookies with her vegetable casserole. They all laughed when she laughed--both times, it was that contagious--and no one said a word when Dillon put his arms around her to pick up her dishes after dinner. Apparently wine made him more touchy than usual.

When she excused herself from the ensuing conversation to work, no one tried to stop him from following her into the training room.


hope

They'd gotten the place cleaned up after they'd made sure she was all right. Well, the others had gotten it cleaned up. He'd stood outside her door while she pulled herself together and listened to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. Like sneaking out. He wouldn't put it past her, and who knew where Tenaya was now.

She was still here, though, and when Dillon walked into the training room after their late dinner, he expected to find her at her station: slightly above everything else, mostly hidden behind computer screens, tapping away at the keyboard like nothing had happened. Like the place hadn't been torn apart, like Tenaya hadn't invaded her space and ripped away any illusion of control... like she hadn't been in tears when they found her, curled up in the one place that was still hers alone.

She wasn't. She wasn't working. She was standing at the far end of the screens, staring at the frame that braced them from the outside. "Hey," Dillon said, in case he was suddenly unwelcome. "Thanks for, uh--having dinner with us."

She didn't look at him. "I need to tell you something."

Something about the way she said it made him look over his shoulder. The doors were open, but she was at the other end of the room and she wasn't exactly raising her voice. His approach was careful, not sure how close he was supposed to get but aware that lately it never seemed close enough.

She took a deep breath, shoulders squared as she turned to face him--and that might have been too close. Or maybe it was something else that surprised her, that made her lift wide eyes to his and fold her hands in front of her. It was what she always did when she was getting ready to answer, but it wasn't answers he wanted.

He didn't know how his fingers ended up on her face. He did know that he wanted to be touching her, maybe to comfort, maybe just to reassure himself. She was still here. Still with them.

She caught his hand and pulled it away. She was almost gentle with him, like he couldn't take whatever she was about to say. "You're my fault," she told him. "What happened to you? Whatever Venjix did? It's my fault, Dillon."

His fingers twitched, and she let go of his hand. "I find that hard to believe," he said.

She just shook her head, turning back to the frame. The little curls of ribbon on the final junction: that's what she was staring at. He didn't know why. Nobody else would own up to putting them there, so he assumed she had done it herself. But if any of the others knew why, what possible significance the tiny decoration could have, they weren't telling him.

"Hey," he repeated, reaching out and squeezing her arm when she didn't look up. "You're not Venjix, okay? You don't get to take the fall for this."

"I am Venjix," she said softly, not moving. "Venjix is mine."

He caught her other arm and turned her around, searching her neutral expression for some clue what she was talking about. "You want to explain that?"

"It was supposed to help me escape," she said, staring back at him. "It was supposed to get us out. I never meant... I didn't want this, I didn't want any of it. I swear, all I wanted was to get out--"

"Okay, okay, stop." He was talking over her, fumbling her arms in an effort to get a hand over her mouth, stepping closer as he tried to stave off the panic of the afternoon. "Don't freak out. I can't handle it when you freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," she snapped, but she let herself be folded against him. When had this become his default response to her hysteria? "I'm presenting you with a detailed account--"

"You're not," he said, even as her words were muffled by proximity. "This is not you giving a detailed account; believe me, I know what that sounds like. I have a really big frame of reference for you giving a detailed account. This is you about to get upset. I have no idea what to do when you get upset."

"I created the virus that took over the world," she said. When she tried to pull away he made a split-second and mostly subconscious decision not to let her. "If anyone should be upset, I think it's me."

"You created Venjix," he said flatly.

It was, though he hated to admit it, perfectly plausible.

"I designed their security," she whispered. "I needed something that could be better than me. I created it to grow, to learn faster than I could. It was never supposed to leave the base."

"Okay," he said, frowning over her head. "What base?"

"The base where I destroyed the world; what does it matter what base?" she demanded, tense and shaky in his arms and why couldn't she for once just do what he told her to do? "I don't even know! How would I know! The military never found them!"

"Um, hi," Ziggy's voice called from the other end of the room. "You guys, uh, okay in here?"

"We're fine, Ziggy." He could feel her trying to push away from him again, and he might have let her go if he didn't think she'd just keep going. Too far away to reach again. "You mind closing the doors?"

"Yeah, no," Ziggy agreed. "I mean, sure thing."

"What base?" Dillon repeated more quietly. He could hear the doors sliding shut from here. She was still shaking, but she was less stiff, and he could feel every shift as she tried to be... less uncomfortable.

"I don't know," she insisted stubbornly, but she added, "They abducted me. From the lab. They suppressed my memories, made it so I couldn't remember. They told me I was still working for Alphabet Soup. That I had been for years."

"The one in California," he muttered when she stopped. "Working on spaceships, or whatever."

"Exploratory robotics," she said. She corrected him like it was habit, like she couldn't not. Like she hadn't expected him to know, and that annoyed him as much as anything. Why shouldn't he know?

"They needed software," she was saying. "I didn't know, at first. I loved JPL. I loved it. Do you understand that? I would have done anything for them."

"Obviously it didn't go both ways," he grumbled, because what was she talking about, anyway?

"It wasn't them," she snapped. She sounded so angry he should probably be glad he couldn't see her expression. "They were the cover story, to keep me docile while the new memories settled."

"New memories," he repeated. What the hell?

"Of working there," she said. "Of being sick. Of having to work there because I couldn't do anything else."

"You're not sick," he said, more because he wanted it to be true than because he had any way of knowing. She didn't act sick. She didn't fight sick.

"Yes, thank you, I figured that out," she said. She finally turned her head, and it was almost resting against his chest. There was a long moment where, he didn't know, maybe she was waiting for him to let go.

She'd be waiting a long time.

"I didn't remember," she said quietly. "I didn't remember anything else. They told me that was what I did, and I believed them."

"Yeah," he said, because... just, yeah.

She didn't say anything else, so he asked, "What changed?"

He felt her twitch. Her arms were still stiff at her sides, but he felt the lightest brush of something--her hand. Her fingers whispered against his stomach, barely warm through his shirt. Her hand came to rest awkwardly against his side.

"They let me have friends," she whispered. "The twins took care of me. I had to take care of them too."

That he understood instantly. "You had to get them out."

"They were being used. As test subjects." The words came out as a hiss, wounded and appalled and he felt her fingers clench in his t-shirt. "They could have died."

He assumed now was not the time to point out that she did the same to them all the time. "So you designed a virus to kill the security."

"No," she said. "It was part of the project. Project Venjix; that's what they wanted me for. I just co-opted it. The latest version, I mean. For early upload."

"So you designed a virus to kill the security," he repeated, more slowly this time.

There was only a brief pause. "Yes."

"It got free and took over the world," Dillon continued. "Okay. What about your friends? They make it?"

This time she was quiet long enough to let him know just how stupid a question that had been. "I don't know," she mumbled at last. "I don't know what happened to them. There was an attack. Venjix got me out after all. But we got separated, and I... I couldn't find them."

He knew when to stop asking questions. "I'd say you need more to drink," he said, "but I don't think wine's gonna be strong enough."

"I don't want to forget," she snapped, but her fingers were still fisted in his shirt. She lifted her cheek off his chest and laid her forehead there instead, and her voice was fuzzier when she added, "I'm sorry."

Then, again, "I'm sorry." She was whispering, but he could hear her perfectly clearly when she said, "Maybe I have to be sorry enough for both of us if you don't even remember what you lost."

"Hey." He only dared let go of her when he took her arms immediately afterward, holding her there. She looked up--she always did, defiant even when she wasn't proud--and he told her, "You gave all of us a clean start. As far as I'm concerned, we're giving you the same."

She shook her head--and she always did that, too. Dismissing things before they'd even made their argument. "None of you did anything like this."

"Like you know," he told her. "Look, I find a little arrogance as amusing as the next person, but at the end of the day, none of us has any idea what we've done. And we couldn't go back and undo it even if we did. Mourning the past gets us nothing but dead. Dealing with the present keeps us alive."

She was staring at him. "I created Venjix," she said, like he might somehow have missed that.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Seems to me that makes you uniquely qualified to stop it."

"It's not like I'm not trying," she said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it got big and mean really fast."

He felt his lips twitch. "Not like anyone else I know."

"I can't keep up," she said softly. "I wasn't supposed to be able to. It's better than me."

"Don't buy it," he told her. "No one's better than us."

"It's not a person." She sounded impatient, and he figured that was her way of not sounding afraid... upset. Despairing. The way she'd sounded during the vid conference this morning.

"That's why we'll win," Dillon said.

There was a long moment, but she did ask. "Why?"

"Because I believe Ziggy," he said simply. "You can call me stupid, but he's got something I want."

She raised her eyebrows at him, a slight smile on her face, and it was kind of a rush to realize she wouldn't. She wasn't going to call him stupid. "An inexplicable way with shadow puppets?" she said.

"Hope," he said, letting go of one arm to touch her face again. Because he could, apparently, and she was standing right there. "I think it might be contagious."

"That's highly improbable," she told him.

"Oh, now you're an expert on intangible realities?" He'd always wanted to touch her hair. It was so close, and then it was soft under his fingertips and he hadn't really expected that. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

She had a funny look on her face, like she wanted to be curious but was actually feeling something completely different. "Why are you touching my hair?"

"Why aren't you stopping me?" he countered. He wasn't curious. He was weirdly terrified.

"I assume you have some purpose." She didn't move even when he let go of her other arm, suddenly unable to restrain her. "Logical or otherwise."

He wanted to smile, because she'd given him that opening. Possibly on purpose. But he couldn't make his expression do anything other than what it was doing right now, and the only reason he was leaning forward was because he couldn't stop himself.

She never stopped watching him. He knew she wouldn't; he didn't have to hold onto her now because she wouldn't look away and she wouldn't back down. She might mock him mercilessly afterwards, but if he wanted to kiss her, she was going to let him.

He thought it would probably be worth it. He was aware of every fraction of a second between intent and execution, every moment he could have stopped and looked away and pretended this wasn't happening. He almost did, even. Stop. Look away.

Then his lips brushed hers, and it was too soon--too soon to stop, too soon to pull back. Her eyes were wide and green and she was wearing something on her lips that left them smooth and smelling vaguely of strawberries. Her hair was fine under his fingers, and his other hand twitched at his side... wanting to touch.

"I believe," she murmured, warmth breathing across his skin, "that it's customary to follow a kiss with some sort of declaration."

He hovered, torn between the truth and... and what?

"I want to kiss you again," he blurted out.

She seemed to consider that. "That will do," she agreed after a moment.

So he did. He was gonna have to remember to thank Ziggy for closing the doors, because he was sure the rest of the team would find this hilarious. Summer would be smirking at him for weeks. Scott would probably make him start setting her damn alarm clock. He hadn't figured out Flynn's angle yet, but he knew there had to be one.

Right now, all he could think was how much he didn't care.