Part 1

Angel Grove Gym and Juice Bar --a place where kids could hang out after school or on weekends. Competitions were held there. Parties, too. Regardless of the time of year, the place was always bustling. Classes in aerobics, dance, gymnastics, martial arts . . . just about anything were conducted there. It was the place to do homework or just be with friends, all under the watchful gaze of the portly, jovial owner.

Not any longer.

For a mid-summer afternoon, the place was strangely quiet. Few kids were around. There was no music. No one was teaching a class, and behind the bar was a new face.

The watcher’s eyes swept over the Youth Center, settling on one table in particular --positioned right in front of the bar near the steps. That table held many fond memories, but it was presently occupied by unfamiliar faces. Four teens: an African American boy in red, a girl of Asian descent in pink, a Caucasian female in yellow, and a Hispanic boy in green . . . four very different people yet obviously friends. They reminded the watcher of another group of friends many years ago. She scrutinized the quartet carefully --very much like the teens she had once known. The disparity in races yet a sense of oneness . . . even the colors could be coincidental, but the bonding of that group was no accident. A glimpse at each wrist revealed the telltale band.

They looked so young, so innocent still. They’re probably only two years younger than me at the most. A lot could happen in two years. It hadn’t been all that long ago that she had been so innocent and carefree; it seemed like a lifetime. No, she shouldn’t have tried to come back. The memories were too painful.

"TJ? Yo, earth to TJ!" Cassie called out, waving her hand in front of her teammate’s face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Cassie," he apologized.

"You went spacey on us right in the middle of your sentence," Ashley added.

"That woman over at the door . . . ." TJ began.

"The one in the boots and leather jacket, carrying the helmet?" Carlos queried, being the only other one able to see the door without turning around. That didn’t stop the other two members of the quartet from craning around to get a look.

"Isn’t she a little old to be in here?" Ashley wondered.

"She doesn’t look that old," Cassie countered, "maybe like eighteen or nineteen?

"A little overdressed, isn’t she? I mean jeans and leather jacket in the middle of summer?" Ashley continued.

"What about her?" Carlos queried.

"Just a strange feeling . . . she was staring at us pretty intently for a while," TJ continued. "It was almost as if she knew who we were."

"That’s weird," Cassie murmured, taking his meaning.

"Hey guys!" bright-eyed Justin, the youngest member of the group, called out as he joined his friends. He noticed their furtive glances and muted conversation. "What’s up?"

Carlos jerked a thumb towards the figure hovering nervously by the doorway. "Wondering what the little lady is doing here."

Justin glanced where the Green Ranger pointed, and his already wide eyes grew even bigger.

"Omigosh!" he gasped.

"Do you know her?" Cassie wondered, seeing recognition flicker across his features.

"That’s Kim!"

Kimberly Hart was about to take her leave when she heard her name called. She cringed, backing deeper into the shadows. She shouldn’t have been so careless . . .then, she saw who had spoken. She smiled as she recognized the mop top and telltale blue clothes. She had met Justin the last time she had come through Angel Grove. She had tried to do then what she wanted to do now, but she had run into Jason, and once he started talking about his problems she knew she couldn’t burden him with hers. Then, Divatox entered the picture. At least the tin cans had stayed away for the duration of that mess; however, they returned almost as soon as the dust from Muranthias had settled, and she had been forced to flee once again.

"Kimberly!" Justin bubbled happily.

"Hey, short stuff." It wasn’t often she could say that to anyone. She ruffled his hair affectionately. She still wasn’t sure about a twelve year old holding the power --genius or not-- but she trusted Zordon’s judgement.

"What brings you here?" he queried.

"Oh, just stopping by for a little visit," she answered evasively. She glanced knowingly at the table. "I take it there have been some roster changes."

"After everyone graduated, Dimitria wanted the Rangers to pick their replacements."

"Who’s Dimitria?"

"Oh, you don’t know? Zordon and Alpha went home; Dimitria is the new mentor for the Rangers. I thought one of the others would have written you."

"I’ve . . . been out of touch for a while. Would you know where the others are?"

"Let’s see, Kat won a scholarship to study ballet in London, Tanya is out east; she got a recording contract! Adam is on location in Australia for the summer; he’s a stuntman on some big budget picture --he couldn’t tell us what it was, though. Rocky has his school; I don’t know where Jason has gotten to . . ."

"What about Tommy?" Kim asked quietly.

"Oh, he’s still around, I think. He’s been racing for his uncle John . . . has been since before graduation. I think he’s getting ready to drive in the Canyon Classic."

"Driving a race car? Somehow, I figured he’d have gone into the dojo business with Rocky or Jason," Kim mused, her heart fluttering at the mention of her former boyfriend.

"Tommy hasn’t done much with martial arts since the tournament," Justin answered, referring to the competition that had provided the money to save the shelter.

Kim noticed that he was studying her intently. It made her feel exposed and skittish.

"Kim, is something wrong? I thought you were supposed to be on the Pan Global team. Aren’t the games going on now?"

She should have realized that the young Blue Ranger would be as perceptive as the original. "Things . . . didn’t quite work out."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Justin asked.

"You’re better off not knowing," Kim sighed.

"You’re one of us, Kim; we can help," Justin insisted.

"Not this time, Justin." Kim glanced up and noticed that Justin’s teammates had vacated their table and were heading towards them. "Look, I have to go. It isn’t safe for me to stay." She readjusted her backpack and slipped her helmet on. "Promise me one thing; if anyone comes looking for me, you never saw me. Got it?"

"But why . . . ."

"Just trust me. You keep those rookies in line, okay?"

"Sure, Kim," Justin gulped.

"Is there a problem?" TJ queried, placing a protective hand on Justin’s shoulder.

"No," Kim replied. She glanced down at Justin once last time, then at the others. "May the power protect you." In the stunned silence that followed her words, she slipped out the door.

"Who did you say that was?" Carlos mumbled.

"Kimberly Hart, the original Pink Ranger."

Tommy couldn’t get the tune out of his head as he guided the car through turn one; Aunt Jessica had the stereo going all morning, and she was a major Chicago fan. She listened to it so much that Tommy had gotten to know their music quite well in the time he had been living with his aunt and uncle while his folks were in Europe. It had turned out to be prophetic.

A phone call from London . . . Kat telling him that she had met someone at the ballet academy. Unlike the poor soul in the song, Tommy genuinely was happy for Kat. The news wasn’t unexpected; in fact, he had been hoping that she might find someone else who could treat her as well as she deserved. He certainly hadn’t been able to give her much of a relationship.

If you can call it that, he mused bitterly. They had tried to make a go of it after his break-up with Kim, but it had never worked. It was all his fault; if only he had been able to let go . . . but he hadn’t been. Kat tried, bless her. It just hadn’t been enough to make him forget.

Look away, baby, look away . . . .

It hadn’t helped that he had seen Kim just a few months ago . . . seeing her in Divatox’s bilge in the viewing globe had brought everything he thought he had locked away back to the surface.

Maybe if I hadn’t seen her . . . if Divatox hadn’t kidnapped her . . . .

Who was he kidding? Even if he hadn’t seen Kim again, he still wouldn’t have been able to forget her.

I wish I could have talked to her . . . gotten some answers . . . .

In the wake of the business on Muranthias, there hadn’t been time for talking, and the ninja tournament was scarcely over when he noticed Kim slipping away. She never showed up at the victory celebration at the Youth Center; it was as if she had just disappeared. Tommy had thought about getting a hold of her in Florida, but there hadn’t been time. Divatox had kept them on their toes . . .Zordon left . . . graduation had been right around the corner, then came his uncle’s offer to race.

Tommy sighed, pushing his thoughts aside. Time enough to nurse old wounds later; the time trials for the Canyon Classic were in four days. It was a major race, and his uncle thought he was finally ready for one.

Although he turned his mind to racing, it did nothing to fill the hole in his heart.

John Rush hit the stopwatch and frowned as he looked at the time.

"Bad?" Eddie, his crew chief, queried.

"He didn’t even do this badly the first time behind the wheel," John muttered. "His time is way off, and he’s all over the track in those turns."

"Why don’t you call him in," Eddie suggested, "see what’s bugging the boy. And while you’re at it, I’ll take a look at that left front wheel he was complaining about yesterday."

"Good idea," John agreed and slipped the radio headset back on.

What am I doing here? Kim wondered from her perch high in the bleachers overlooking the old AG Speedway. It was only used for practices, demolition derbies and monster truck rallies these days; all the important races were held at the Angel Canyon Raceway, located between Angel Grove and Stone Canyon. Kim didn’t know much about the sport, and she hadn’t thought Tommy had either. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, the coldness coming from within.

She felt a lump in her throat as she watched the racecar pull into pit row and the driver climb out of the window. From this distance, all she could make out was his white helmet and red jumpsuit; still, she would know Tommy anywhere. She saw him hang his head as his uncle talked to him. It made her heart ache.

It had hurt like hell seeing him a few months ago; she had wanted to talk to him so badly --to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t.

Still, she hadn’t been able to resist the impulse to see him one last time. To know that he was alive and well . . . that her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain . . . .

When did this nightmare begin? When I went to Florida, or before I ever left Angel Grove?

She had been in Florida for a few months when she received the first letter --a warning that dire things would happen to all those she knew and loved if she didn’t stay away. She hadn’t paid it any mind . . . just a bad joke. The second letter came right before Christmas, promising terrible things would befall her family. Again, she dismissed it. There was no third warning --just an anonymous note with her dad’s name on it. Twenty-four hours later, he and her stepmom had been in a car accident --a hit and run that had nearly killed them.

Coincidence, she tried to tell herself, but she was nervous now. The next letter had Kenny’s name on it, and twenty-four hours later, her brother’s apartment had been torched; he barely escaped with his life. Another warning came; it told her not to go to the police or inform her friends--the Rangers. Trini’s name had been on the bottom of that note. The following day she read of the bombing in Geneva at the university where the peace delegates were housed.

Whoever was sending her the notes was serious. She had begun to suspect someone was watching her. More than once she had glimpsed strange shadows as she went from the gym to her apartment. She knew that either her mom or Tommy would be next. There was nothing she could do about her mother, but she could protect Tommy. If her pursuer thought she no longer loved him --that he meant nothing to her-- maybe he would leave him alone. She got rid of nearly everything he had given her and sent him a letter saying she had found someone else. It killed her to do that, but it was the only way she could think of. No note with Tommy’s name on it ever arrived, but one with her mother’s had.

After that, Kim saw the first of the silver plated sleazoids. Standing close to seven feet tall, heavily armored and armed with high tech weaponry, he looked like one of Zedd and Rita’s monsters. He wasn’t. He was far more deadly and was casing the gymnasium. Kim knew then that she had to leave; she couldn’t endanger the lives of the other girls and coaches. She made her plans carefully and secretively --or so she thought. She had slowly wiped out her savings account. She purchased a motorcycle for a fast getaway. Her backpack was loaded with necessities in case she needed to leave at a moment’s notice. It had proven necessary sooner than she would have liked. Her watcher and his tin can buddies attacked the gym one afternoon. Kim slipped out under the cover of chaos and made her escape. She had been running ever since--for over a year. It didn’t matter where she went, they always found her.

These days, she no longer recognized herself when she looked in the mirror. Gone was the perky teen with hopes of gymnastic gold and the love of the most wonderful man in the world. In her place was a woman who had endured a lot of hard living in the name of survival. That woman was tired now. What was the point? Survival just wasn’t enough of a reason any longer. There was no joy in her life, nothing to look forward to but another day on the road--a meal and a safe place to sleep if she was lucky. She was tired of running. Tired of being afraid. She didn’t know why those thugs were after her or who sent them. It didn’t matter anymore. When next they came, she’d face them instead of fleeing. They might take her at last, but not without a fight. That was why she had come home. She had wanted to say good-bye to her friends.

Good-bye, Tommy. You’ll probably never even know I’m gone. I just wish there was someway to tell you the truth . . . to tell you how much I love you and miss you . . . .

Kim felt herself getting choked up, but she shoved those emotions down to the bottom of her soul lest they overwhelm her. She pulled her helmet back on and made her way towards the exit. First, she’d head back to her hotel room and maybe catch a quick nap; she had ridden all night to make Angel Grove ahead of her pursuers. Since there was no one else to see, she’d hit the road again. Better not to be around innocent by-standers when the attack came; the sleazebuckets didn’t particularly care who got hurt in the crossfire.

Suddenly, she felt the hackles on her neck rise. The metal bleachers began vibrating, and Kim heard the hum of a teleportation beam. They had found her again.

"Target has been located; proceed as directed . . . ." the soulless voice intoned as the first of the hunters materialized. Kim sprinted towards the aisle; she had to lead the goons out of the stands ... away from Tommy.

"I’m sorry, Uncle John," Tommy apologized as he saw the disappointment in his uncle’s face. "My mind’s just not on driving today."

"That phone call you got this morning?" John queried.

"Sort of."

"Look, I know it’s hard to put your personal problems aside, but if you want to qualify for the Canyon Classic, you’ve got to get your head together."

If you only knew how good I’ve gotten at pushing my personal problems aside; I’ve been doing it for a very long time, Tommy reflected. "I know," he said aloud.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He had been bottling things up inside for so long, Tommy wasn’t sure he could discuss it anyone. While he deciding whether to take his uncle up on his offer or not, he saw his Aunt Jess and her friend Muriel emerging from the trailer. The family pretty much stayed at the track right before a major race; Jess when everywhere with John, and while Muriel worked with Tommy’s mom at the hospital, she spent a lot of time at the track because her husband was a member of the pit crew.

"Not having a good morning?" Jess asked.

"You could say that," John answered, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"Don’t worry, Tommy; it’ll pass," Jess said cheerfully as she mussed her nephew’s hair.

"I suppose," he said glumly.

The air was suddenly filled with the screech of tearing metal.

"Good Lord, what are those things!" Muriel gasped.

All eyes turned to the stands to see a tiny figure in leather jacket and helmet leap nimbly over the aisle railing with four men in wicked looking armor in hot pursuit. A beam of energy shot out of the lead pursuer’s arm-mounted gun, blowing away a large portion of the bleachers ahead of his quarry. The fugitive tried to leap across the blob of fused metal but mistimed the jump and went tumbling down the concrete stairs.

"I don’t know what’s going on, but that guy needs help," Tommy said grimly, old battle instincts kicking in.

"Tommy, no!" his uncle shouted, but Tommy was already racing across the track.

Kim somersaulted down the stairs until she could get her feet under her. She felt a twinge in her ankle as she came up running, but there was no time to worry about that. She narrowly dodged another shot.

They’re herding me away from the exits, dammit! She was going to have to try a new tactic if she was to get out of there. Kim charged towards the lamppost and used her momentum to swing around. She caught her closest pursuer in the chest, knocking him aside. Then, she started back up the stands, running up the seats instead of the steps. They won’t be expecting that! Maybe she had come home to die, but not yet . . . not here where Tommy could see . . . . The hunter bringing up the rear lashed out, a steel-jacketed forearm smashing into her back, sending her sprawling across the metal seats. Fire flared in her chest. Not my ribs again!

The pain was inconsequential; she had to keep moving even though it was hard to draw a breath. There was a way to take her assailants out but, she’d do it only as a last resort. Killing monsters was one thing, but killing men . . . . Pedro had taught her to be a crack shot, and she had discovered that the only thing that could dent that armor was the sleazoids’ own weapons. Still, in spite of everything she had endured, she had not become a killer. Kim rolled out of the path of another blast and bobbled to her feet

"Scanners indicate approaching humanoid life forms . . . ." on of the hunters intoned.

No! Kim shrieked silently. Her pulse quickened, and her blood ran cold as she heard a familiar "ki-yai!"

It had been months since Tommy last fought as a Ranger; his skills had atrophied. His timing was off as he met the first of the armored thugs with a flying kick, and he no longer had the Power augmenting his strength. Yet, the longer he punched and blocked, the more things came back to him, and what he lacked in strength he compensated for in speed and maneuverability. However, he quickly realized that he was outmatched. Even the robot cogs weren’t as solid as the armor these guys wore; they were brushing him off like a pesky fly. They weren’t pulling their punches, either, as a glancing blow had his head spinning. Perhaps he couldn’t take them out, but he could buy their quarry enough time to escape.

Damn it, Tommy; why’d you have to try and be a hero? Kim lamented, recovering from her latest dive to the pavement. The thug she had sent sprawling had recovered and had Tommy pinned from behind. He struggled fiercely, but there was no way he could break the sleazebucket’s grip. The team leader leveled his weapon at Tommy’s chest.

"NO!"

Kim couldn’t have said where the burst of energy came from, but it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. She launched herself forward and lunged at the leader, knocking him aside. His blast went wide, clipping the man who restrained Tommy.

"Nyah, nyah, can’t catch me, ya bucket of bolts!" Kim taunted as she let her momentum carry her forward. However, in her haste to save Tommy, she had lost track of the other two assassins. A blast came in from her blind side; the metal beneath her erupted, sending her flying.

"Oh no you don’t," Tommy growled, kicking at the recovering hunter at his feet. He sent the goon sprawling, his gun flying from his hand. While Tommy’s attention was diverted, the other two armored soldiers came forward, grabbing his arms and effectively restraining him with no small amount of pain. Their leader stood before Tommy once again, and Tommy glared at him blackly.

Kim was slow getting up; her eyes wouldn’t clear. Her jacket still smoked from being singed, and in spite of the cushioning protection of her helmet, her head was still ringing. As she climbed to her hands and knees, she noticed three people running towards the stands. That’s all she needed: more innocent by-standers.

"Let me go . . . ugh!"

Kim whipped around. The sleazebuckets had Tommy again, one having just delivered a vicious blow to his solar plexus. Tommy went limp in their grasp. She didn’t know why he hadn’t been shot yet, but she wasn’t about to wait to find out. She crawled towards the tin-plated thug Tommy had taken out; he must have damaged the armor’s power pack with his kick, otherwise the killer would have been back on his feet already. Fortunately for Kim, his gun was well out of reach --his, but not hers.

"You heard him; let him go!" she rasped, leveling the gun at the trio who held Tommy. Although she was shaking on the inside, the gun never wavered.

Actions, however, belied the cold words as the leader raised its forearm-mounted blaster--not at her but at Tommy.

Kim didn’t even blink. She simply pulled the trigger.

Tommy’s eyes went wide as the assassin holding him at gunpoint suddenly had no head. It had been completely vaporized. He felt the heat of the lethal beams as they shot past his cheeks, taking out his other captors. The three bodies fell to the bleachers. In a flash of light, they were gone. On his knees and numb with shock, Tommy raised his head to regard the person he had been trying to help; now he could tell that it was a female. She slowly lowered the gun; he could see that she was shaking.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He still didn’t have enough air to speak, so he simply nodded. Then, he caught a flash of silver . . . movement behind her. His body stiffened as he tried to call out a warning. Apparently, she had caught it, too, for she whirled around and fired, taking out the fourth would-be killer. It dissolved in a burst of light like it’s companions. The woman quickly tossed the gun aside; it, too, vanished.

"I--I’m sorry," the woman stammered, and she turned and fled.

Kim wanted to be sick. She had known what would happen if she went for the head; she had seen it once, but it had been the only way to keep them from killing Tommy. They wouldn’t have let him go; she knew better. Clutching her bruised ribs, Kim staggered towards the entranceway. She had to get out of there; when the sleazebuckets returned, there would be more of them.

"Not so fast, miss."

Kim recognized Tommy’s uncle as he stepped in front of her.

"Please, I--I’ve got to get out of here," she insisted, trying to push past him.

"You’re in no shape to go anywhere."

"You don’t understand . . . they’ll be back . . . if you help me, you’ll be in danger."

"It’s too late for that, I’m afraid."

"We’ll take care of her, John. Go help Tommy," Jess directed as she and Muriel caught up with her husband.

"Tommy? Is he okay?" Kim asked anxiously.

The two women traded puzzled glances.

"I think they only knocked the wind out of him," Muriel answered.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this! He wasn’t supposed to get hurt; that’s why I let him go . . . so he wouldn’t . . . ."

Kim suddenly went limp in Muriel’s arms. "Let’s lay her down and get this jacket and helmet off of her," she directed.

The two women were struggling with Kim’s outerwear as John helped Tommy over.

"Tommy?" Jess queried. Her sister would never forgive her if something happened to her son.

"I’ll be okay . . . need to catch my breath," he gasped. He eyed the prone young woman, noticing that the black covering on her helmet was chipping away, revealing flashes of pink and white underneath. Her jacket reminded him an awful lot of the bomber jacket he owned.

"What did you think you were doing?" John demanded. "You could have been killed!"

"She needed help," Tommy replied. He couldn’t even begin to explain it to his uncle that he’d been closer to dying than this. "Who is she?"

"Okay, we’ll just ease her helmet off . . . ." Jess murmured as she worked the protective gear off, freeing a caramel colored braid.

It was fortunate for Tommy that his uncle was still supporting him otherwise he would have toppled over in shock. Even so, it felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach as he gazed on the thin, pale face. He could only manage one word.

"Kimberly!"

Tommy had never been more grateful that his uncle loved his personal space; he paced about the trailer's spacious living area like a caged tiger as he waited for word on Kimberly's condition. Aunt Jess and Muriel were seeing to Kim's injuries. Why was it taking so long?

"You're going to wear a hole in my carpet," John teased him gently.

"I can't help it," Tommy sighed, running a hand up under his hair and around his neck.

"Your little girl was pretty beat up; she needs a hospital not a track nurse."

"I know that. Why didn't you call for an ambulance?"

"And run the risk of those silver plated goons going after her in the hospital? She seemed to think that they'd find her no matter where she was." John regarded his nephew for a moment. "Tommy, I know you've been keeping something from us . . . something important."

Tommy's blood suddenly ran cold. "What do you mean?"

"Your sudden departures at all hours of the day or night haven't exactly gone unnoticed, and your excuses were pretty thin. You never could lie convincingly. Your folks never pressured you about it, but they knew something was up, and they always had this feeling that if you could have told them about it, you would have."

For a moment, Tommy thought of giving his uncle the answer he deserved, but old habits died hard. "It . . . doesn't matter any more, Uncle John. That part of my life is over now."

"Is it?" John asked pointedly, and Tommy understood what he was getting at. Those creeps chasing Kim were an awful lot like some of the things they had fought as Power Rangers, but they were colder somehow, more lethal. And the way Kim had taken them out was just as cold and lethal. Tommy desperately wanted answers; however, the only person who could give them to him was out cold in his aunt and uncle's bedroom.

The words to the song brought Tommy up short. He had gotten so used to Aunt Jess having music on all the time that he scarcely paid attention to it, and he was so preoccupied with Kim that he hadn't realized that it was even. Tommy recognized the group as another of his aunt's favorites: Queen.

Kim was his best friend . . . well, once upon a time before a certain letter had arrived at the Juice Bar. Best friend. Teammate. The person he loved more than anything else in the world . . . and he had always thought that she had felt the same way. He would have sworn to it. Apparently, she felt otherwise. Still, the letter seemed so unlike Kim . . . there hadn't been any warning. How could someone just fall out of love? They hadn't had a fight or anything like that. At Christmas, she had seemed so happy with him. Even if she had fallen out of love with him, it was still out of character for her to dump him in a letter. That wasn't like Kim at all; it just didn't make any sense to him.

I really love you . . . .

Whatever the cause, the sunshine had gone out of his life the day he had received that letter. It was as if all the joy had been sucked out of everything he did. In spite of it all, he really did still love Kim. He supposed he should be angry with her or hate her; if it hadn't been for his duties as a Ranger . . . he had often wondered how he had carried on without half his soul.

Pretty deep thoughts for someone who's going to be nineteen in a few months, he mused. It was the truth, though; he had never felt whole after that day, and Kat, well . . . she could never replace Kim. Sometimes her presence only served to remind him of what he had lost.

At the moment, however, Tommy felt no anger. He felt fear --fear for the beaten young woman in the other room-- and the desire to protect her at all costs.

"How's your patient?" John queried.

Tommy spun around. He hadn't heard his aunt emerge from the bedroom.

"She sleeping pretty deeply," Jess reported, shaking her head. "Poor thing, I wonder when was the last time she had a decent night's rest. Or when she last had a decent meal. Her ribs are so prominent . . . no wonder they bruised so easily. She's seen some hard living of late."

"With those things chasing after her, I shouldn't wonder," John sighed.

Tommy still had yet to find his voice.

"Muriel says that there's evidence of other injuries that have healed over --without benefit of a doctor's care," Jess continued. "Tommy, do you know what's going on? It's obvious Kim's in trouble, and she's deathly afraid that we're going to get hurt if we help her."

"I wish I knew, Aunt Jess; I haven't heard from her since she broke up with me," Tommy confessed. His aunt patted his arm reassuringly.

"Let her sleep for now; she needs it. There'll be time enough for questions later."

"We'd just better be prepared in case trouble shows up," John added.

"Here, Tommy." Jessica tossed him a key ring with a single key. "There's nothing you can do here but wait, and I know how much you love waiting."

"What's this?" Tommy queried.

"The key to Kim's hotel room. It fell out of her pocket when we slipped her jeans off. Go get her bags. It probably won't be safe for her to go back there."

Tommy had never heard of the hotel before, and when he pulled into the parking lot, he had to do a double take. The place wasn't exactly a dive, but not far from it.

He found her room facing an interior hallway, and Tommy couldn't shake the feeling that she had chosen it for security purposes. Upon entering the small, spartan room, he was surprised to find only one bag--Kim's old backpack. He probably shouldn't have, but he felt compelled to go through the contents. They were pitifully few: a brush, toothbrush, travel sized toiletries (he had the uncomfortable feeling they had been gleaned from hotels like this one), a pitifully small roll of money, jeans, shorts, a couple of t-shirts, a sweatshirt, some underwear . . . things that could be easily stuffed into the bag in a hurry. And it looked like they had been so stuffed pretty recently.

Then, he found something else in the bottom of the bag; it was the only item that was neatly folded. He nearly dropped it when he pulled it out into the light. A flannel shirt --white and green checked-- one of his. Tommy closed his eyes, remembering the day he had given it to her as if it was yesterday instead of nearly four years ago . . . .

She had tried to give it back at the end of the afternoon, but he had told her to keep it. The first time she had worn it around the others, she had blushed as red as Jason's uniform when Zack teased her about it.

Tommy noticed a lump inside the shirt, and pulled out a well-worn book with a broken lock. A diary? He opened the front cover, and the writing therein shook him almost as much as seeing his old shirt: To the finder of this book. If anything happens to me, please send this book to Tommy Oliver . . . .

Why would she want her diary sent to him?

However, before Tommy could pursue the thought, he heard noises outside Kim's door --a suspiciously familiar creaking noise. Diary and shirt in hand, he dove under the sagging bed. Scarcely had the bedspread settled back in place when the door flew inward in a shower of splinters. Tommy glimpsed four pairs of metal-shod feet from the safety of his hiding place.

"Scanners register one human life form," a flat, almost robotic sounding voice intoned.

Okay, they aren't human, Tommy mused. A lump formed in his throat. They knew he was there and no doubt knew exactly where he was hiding. What he wouldn't give to have his old communicator/teleporter back!

"If it is not the intended target, then it does not concern us." Another of the would-be assassins remarked; his voice rang with the tone of command. "Proceed with elimination directive."

Tommy almost breathed a sigh of relief, then he heard a chilling whoosh and smelled smoke. Shit, they've torched the room!

Tommy remained hidden for a few more seconds, wanting to make sure that the hunters were gone. When he rolled out from under the bed, he found the room totally engulfed in flames; window and door were both blocked.

Let's hope this jumpsuit is as flameproof as Uncle John says it is, Tommy gulped, gathering himself to make a dash towards the flaming doorway. However, before he could move, he vanished in a flash of red tinged white light.

Tommy soon found himself rolling across the floor of the Power Chamber. When he skidded to a stop, he found himself at the base of Dimitria's column.

"Oh man, Dimitria, if you weren't in that tube, I'd kiss you!" Tommy gushed.

"I am pleased to see you, too, Tommy," the native of Inquirus remarked, wryly amused. "It is not often that one encounters the Mercytes and lives to tell of it."

"Mercytes? You mean those sleazebuckets in the pointy armor?"

"Yes."

"Who or what are they?"

"Mercytes are android assassins, outlawed in most portions of the universe. They are the deadliest hunters known to civilized beings. Like Alpha, they are fully sentient once activated and do not stop until their programmed target is eliminated. Very much like a hydra, if you strike one down, another arises to take its place."

"Programmed target . . . they're after Kimberly, but why?"

"That is unknown. It was by merest chance that Alpha detected their presence; the Mercyte are well cloaked from most technology. The scanners registered an anomalous energy signature . . . the briefest flash . . . ."

"I bet when Kim fried those tin cans . . . in the seconds before they disintegrated," Tommy realized. "Dimitria, what can I do? Those things have been chasing Kim for who knows how long . . . ."

"It is a credit to her resourcefulness and intelligence that she is still alive."

"Is there anything you can do to stop them? I know Kim and I aren't Rangers any longer, but ...."

"I will consult with the Blue Senturion; perhaps he has had some experience in dealing with the Mercyte. To my knowledge, there is only one way to stop a Mercyte: change it's programming at the source."

"You mean, find out who wants Kim dead and get him/her/or it to tell the things to leave her alone? We don't even know where to begin looking," Tommy sighed defeatedly.

"Perhaps her diary will provide us with some clues," Dimitria suggested.

"I sure hope so. I'd better get back to the track . . . back to Kim."

"I will return you to your vehicle."

Dimitria regarded the monitor as she watched the former Ranger slide into his truck.

"Tommy, where have you been!" John exclaimed as Tommy pulled up along side the trailer. "When they cut in with the news broadcast about the fire at Kim's hotel . . . was it those silver things looking for her?"

"Yes, it was the Mercytes."

"Mercytes?"

"That's what they're called."

"How did you . . . ?" John began, but he saw the look in Tommy's eye as he ushered him into the trailer. He knew Tommy wanted to tell him but for some reason could not. Well, if his nephew couldn't tell him, then maybe it was time he took a guess. "The Power Rangers?" John was rewarded by the flash of alarm, surprise, and relief in Tommy's eyes. Somehow, it made perfect sense that his nephew had been one of the teen superheroes. "This sounds like something that'd be up their alley. What's that?" he asked, indicating the book and the shirt.

"All that's left of Kim's stuff," Tommy replied. That his uncle had figured out he was a Ranger had startled him, but he was immensely relieved to have it out --and that he wasn't going to pry. In truth, he knew he needed to tell them with the danger Kimberly was in.

"Is the book important?"

Tommy clutched the small volume as if his life depended on it. "It's Kim's diary."

The reason Tommy had been so late in returning was because he had pulled off to the side of the road to skim through it. He hated violating Kim's privacy like that, but he just had to know . . .the words he read had already etched themselves on his heart and soul.

"The things have been after Kim almost since she left Angel Grove," Tommy explained. "They've gone after everyone close to Kim . . . they even found Caroline and Adrian in Paris. That's why she sent me that letter, Uncle John. She was trying to protect me."

There was more . . . lots more, and all of it difficult to read. After the attacks in Paris, Kim realized that she was being stalked. The gym wasn't safe any longer. He read how she had planned her escape and how she very nearly hadn't made it. She had been on the run for almost a year, living like a fugitive and trying to stay alive and one step ahead of her relentless pursuers. Gone was the perky, optimistic teenager; in her place was a woman hardened by the fight for survival, and Tommy wasn't the only one who mourned her loss:

I know I shouldn't go back, but I can't help it. If I'm gonna die when I finally make my last stand against the sleazoids, I want to be able to see my friends one last time. To say good-bye, even if they can't hear my words. I just wish I could tell Tommy . . . more than anything, I wish that. I hope this diary survives me; then he'll know . . . .

Tommy shuddered at the thought that Kim had come home to die.

"Jess, she's starting to wake up," Muriel called from the bedroom. Tommy bounced up from the couch as his aunt emerged from the kitchen.

"Maybe you should wait out here," Jess suggested gently as she passed through. Tommy ignored her and wandered down the hall after her.

"Wh-where am I?" Kim groaned. Blurry faces swam before her eyes. Every breath made fire explode in her chest; every movement caused her muscles to scream in pain.

"Safe, Kimberly," Jess said.

"Nowhere's safe for me anymore. I gotta go, before they come back . . . ." Kim tried to scramble out of bed, but a firm hand pushed her back, and she didn't have the strength to fight. "Who are you?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten. Jessica Rush, remember?"

"Tommy's aunt . . . Omigod, Tommy! Those sleazoids . . . is he okay?"

"Sh, settle down. Your sharpshooting saved him."

" . . . never killed 'em before . . . always ran . . . but I had to . . . ." Tears choked her, and she tried to hide them.

"We know, Kim." Jess glanced back at the doorway and noticed Tommy standing there; he looked on the verge of tears himself.

"Please, I've got to go; you're in danger as long as I'm here."

"We understand the risks, Kimberly. We're here to help you. Besides, you have nowhere to run to."

"I need to get my things . . . get out of town . . . ."

"The hotel was torched by your pursuers; there's nothing left for you to get."

"No! Was anyone hurt?" That was her worst fear: that innocents would be harmed.

"Everyone made it out, according to the news reports." Muriel supplied helpfully.

"Thank God."

"But I'm afraid you lost everything . . . your room was the one where the fire started," Jess explained. "I sent Tommy to get your things, but I don't think he . . . ." Muriel tapped her shoulder. When Jess looked, she saw that Muriel was holding a book and a flannel shirt and that Tommy had retreated to the shadows again. "Actually, he managed to salvage two things."

"My diary," Kim murmured numbly as she accepted the book. Then, she glimpsed the other item Jess held out to her. With quivering hands, she took the garment from Tommy's aunt and clutched it to her chest. "Thank God, oh thank God!" Tears streamed down her cheeks; then came the sobs--great body racking sobs. Kim buried her face in Tommy's shirt as all the unshed tears from the last year came pouring out in unstoppable torrents.

It was too much for Tommy. He rushed over to Kim's side and pulled her into his arms. He held her as if he would never let her go.

Kim was awake. Just like that. Long gone were the days of lazing about in the bed and slowly getting used to the idea that she wasn't asleep any longer. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. As always, the first thing she was aware of was the pain. Sometimes it was the dull ache of old injuries; other times, it was the sharp fire of new ones. Today's was in the latter category, and as always, she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Next, she took in her surroundings--again, a habit she had to develop. She never knew if she'd wake up in the same place she fell asleep. She had been in a bed . . . a nice soft one (so much nicer than a hotel's!); however, that wasn't where she was at the moment. She was laying on something hard and soft, warm, and moving! She felt something pinning her arms, but it didn't feel like a restraint.

She opened her eyes . . . she rarely did that first any more. If she had been taken, she didn't want her captors to know she was awake; it would give her a slight edge. At the moment, she didn't feel as if she was in danger. In fact, she felt safer than she had in a long, long while. Under her cheek was a bright red t-shirt, and the chest underneath it rose and fell with even breaths. She was in someone's lap, an arm cradling her protectively. She felt a chin resting against her head; it was a familiar feeling . . . one she hadn't enjoyed in ages.

Tommy . . . .

Her body went taut. What was she doing? Every moment she stayed, she was putting Tommy in greater danger. That's why she had let him go . . . She had to go . . . she should go . . . but Kim couldn't move. She didn't want to move. It just felt so good. She closed her eyes again and buried her face in the tear-dampened shirt clutched to her bosom. It was her most cherished possession, the only thing she had kept of Tommy's when she cut him out of her life --her heart. The thought that she had nearly lost it had been devastating. Last night she hadn't realized it, but now she could detect the faint traces of smoke about the fabric. The fire . . . Tommy could have been killed!

Then, she became aware of other scents: the tang of Tommy's sweat, the spice of his aftershave, and the delectable aroma of pancakes and bacon. How long had it been since she had eaten breakfast? Hell, when was the last time she had eaten--period? Well over twenty-four hours for certain.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep, Beautiful."

Hearing Tommy's soft, warm voice rumbling up from his chest--hearing him call her by his pet name for her --nearly brought Kim to tears again. It hurt so much being without him. She shouldn't let her guard down. She knew Tommy had gotten together with Kat; even being in London, Kim couldn't imagine that Kat would let him go. Tommy shifted, tilting her chin up. His smile threatened to break her heart.

"How'd you know I was awake?" she murmured.

"Your stomach gave you away. Hungry?"

Kim hated to admit it, but her empty belly emitted an ignominious growl. She blushed.

"Come on, Aunt Jess is a great cook."

"I shouldn't, Tommy . . . I can't stay . . . you're in danger . . . ."

"I thought you were tired of running . . . tired of being the warrior . . . of being alone."

Kim blinked, surprised.

Tommy reached over and tapped the cover of the journal resting on the bed beside them. "I know I shouldn't have looked, but . . . ." he confessed sheepishly.

"You know about everything?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Everything."

It had been months since she had felt the urge to cry, and here she was on the brink again in less than twenty-four hours. And his tone . . . it was almost enough to make her dare to hope. . . . She looked up into his face. She could see that he had questions. "What is it?"

"We can talk about this later . . . ." Tommy offered, not wanting to press her.

"The one thing I've learned is not to put something off . There might not be a later," she said bleakly. "Will you tell me, or should I guess? Is it about the letter?"

"No."

Kim could not hide her surprise; she would have thought that would have been the foremost question in his mind. Tommy chuckled a bit at her expression.

"You explained that in your journal," Tommy reminded her, "and even if you hadn't, after seeing you last night, I would have had to been as dense as Bulk not to have figured out that you still cared."

Kim racked her brain, trying to remember what she had said and done last night, but things were just so hazy. "How . . . ?"

"I know because of this," Tommy murmured, plucking at his old shirt. "You didn't really care about getting the diary back, but this . . . your face lit up with such relief when you saw it, and the way you cried into it, I could tell it still meant something to you --that I still meant something to you."

"It was my last link to you," Kim whispered, unconsciously nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric, "the only one I could allow myself." Then, she recovered herself. "I suppose, though, that it doesn't really matter . . . ." It hurt so much to have him know, knowing that his heart was no longer hers. She wished he hadn't read that damned book; he wasn't meant to see it until after she was gone . . . .

". . . but it does, Kim," Tommy insisted. His expression brightened, becoming soft and warm --almost tender. "It matters because I still love you."

Again, all Kim could do was gape at him in amazement. However, when she found her voice, she sputtered, "but what about Kat? I thought you and she were . . . ."

Tommy should have realized that Kim would think that after that business with Divatox; she couldn't possibly know that that's what showed him where his heart truly lay. If only she hadn't disappeared after the match . . . .

" . . . not for some time," he replied, and they hadn't been a couple in the true sense of the word since they had received their Turbo powers. They had just been too stubborn to let go.

Kim didn't know what to say. True, she had prayed for a chance to explain to Tommy, to tell him how she still felt, but she never dreamed that he would still feel the same way about her. It was almost too good to be true.

As if sensing Kim's skepticism, Tommy tilted her chin up and smiled lovingly into her eyes. "Believe it, Beautiful. I love you." Then, his lips descended upon hers.

Time seemed to stand still for Kimberly as Tommy's lips molded against hers in a kiss that was as familiar as the flannel shirt she clutched and as brand new as the day. The old affection was there, but there was something deeper, stronger. It was an offering of himself; all she had to do was accept it. Kim knew she shouldn't, not while there was still such danger, but she felt herself responding anyway, taking what he offered and giving up herself in return. Tommy just as eagerly accepted.

"Tommy, what just happened?" she squeaked out when the need for air won out over the exchange of emotion.

"We've each regained the missing part of our souls," he replied, cradling her close.

"Tommy, I don't know if I can . . . ." she began, pulling away. The hurt in his eyes was like a knife in her chest. "It's not that I don't love you . . . I do, more than life itself! It's just that I'm not the girl you fell in love with anymore. I've changed. I've had to in order to stay alive . . ."

"I don't call what you've been doing living: merely survival. I read your words. You're more warrior now than woman, but I also think that there's still a woman underneath the warrior. A warrior wouldn't have cried over a simple shirt. The Kimberly Hart I fell in love with is still inside you somewhere. We just have to find her, that's all."

Kimberly's long hidden emotions threatened to burst forth once again; however, the feeling-laden moment was disrupted by an undignified growling.

"Why don't we try and look for her after breakfast," Tommy teased just as his own belly announced its thoughts on being empty.

For the first time since her nightmare began, Kim laughed. She had thought for the longest time that she would never laugh again.

Kim slipped off Tommy's lap, stretched out, and realized something was missing.

"Um . . . where are my jeans?" she queried sheepishly.

"Over the chair," Tommy answered with a grin. The woman was still there, all right; after all, a warrior wouldn't have blushed at having been caught in nothing but panties and a t-shirt.

"Would you care for anymore?"

"No thanks, Mrs. Rush," Kim demurred, setting her fork down. Breakfast had been heavenly; she hadn't eat so much or so well in forever.

"Please, call me Jess."

"Thanks, Jess." Kim glanced over at Tommy who had been staring at her on and off throughout the meal. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. For a while there, it looked like you could give Rocky a run for his money," Tommy chuckled, recalling their friend's notorious appetite. He immediately regretted his words when he saw Kim's crestfallen expression. How could he have forgotten that there had been times when it had been days between meals for her. He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"You ready to head to the track? Your practice times yesterday were off pace considerably," John interjected into the awkward silence.

"Actually, I was wondering if I might have today off."

"Tommy, we leave for the Canyon Classic in two days."

"I know. I wanted to take Kim shopping," Tommy said.

Kim nearly spit out her mouthful of orange juice. "You want to take me shopping?"

"I remember how much you loved shopping," Tommy pointed out.

"But you hate shopping!"

"I used to go with you all the time."

"That's because you were too nice to tell me how much you loathed it."

"How'd you find out?"

"Rocky and Adam told me. Why do you think I stopped asking you to go?"

"You lost everything you had yesterday; you need to get a few things," Tommy insisted. He wanted to take Kim because he knew that she needed to do something fun to take her mind off her troubles, and shopping was something she had always enjoyed. Also, he wanted to take her because he wanted to spend every moment that he could with her. He cast an entreating look at his uncle. "Please?"

"Tommy's right, Kim does need to replace what she lost," Jess added, "and with those things after her, it would be better if she didn't go alone."

John gave Jess a look that seemed to say that he didn't need any further prompting. "Of course. You have today, but I need you on the track tomorrow if you're going to drive in this race."

"Thanks!"

When the hair dryer was finally silent, John knocked on the bathroom door. "Tommy? You going to come out of there sometime today? I thought you were going shopping."

The door opened and Tommy popped his head out. John noticed that his nephew's normally wavy locks had been painstakingly straightened.

"What made you decided to tame those wild curls, or do I even need to ask?" he asked, much to his nephew's discomfiture.

"Kim always liked my hair straight," Tommy replied sheepishly. He opened the door wider and grabbed for his shirt. John noticed that his hair wasn't the only thing Tommy had taken pains with. He hadn't seen the boy dress so in ages: boots, black jeans without all the extra room, and a white shirt.

"I take it Kim prefers you in white, too."

Tommy just shrugged.

"I'm not here just to give you a hard time about your wardrobe. Here." He handed Tommy a credit card. To Tommy's puzzled frown, he answered, "this one's on me."

"I can't . . . ." Tommy demurred. He and Kim had already argued about his paying for her things. Although he had irrefutable logic on his side . . . how would you pay for anything anyway? Everything you had went up in smoke . . .. Kim hadn't wanted to accept his charity; still, she had no other choice.

"And just how were you planning on paying for this shopping spree? Dipping into your savings?"

His uncle had hit it.

"No way, young man. You are not to touch that money. It's for college or for starting up your own school or for your wedding . . . but not for taking your girlfriend shopping."

"Kim almost wouldn't let me pay for her things, she won't let you . . . ."

"How is she going to know?"

Looking at the card, Tommy saw his name on it, right underneath the business logo.

"If I have to, I'll rat on you to Aunt Elsa," Jon threatened good-naturedly.

Tommy flinched. Aunt Elsa was the one who set up the account for him in the first place; he knew he'd have to justify any withdrawal with her --large or small.

John knew that he had won. "If you must, call it a loan. I'll take out of your first large purse, okay? Get Kim what she needs --and maybe some things that she doesn't."

"I planned to," Tommy admitted. "She's been on the run for so long, I don't think she remembers what it's like to just go out and have fun. I know I can't undo a year's worth of hard living in just one day, but I can try . . . ."

"Tommy? You about ready?" Kim called.

Tommy stepped around his uncle and found Kim standing in the hallway. She was dressed in one of his red t-shirts; it hung loosely on her petite frame, and she had it cinched about her waist with one of his aunt's scarves. She had borrowed a pair of Muriel's sandals, and even they were slightly too large for her. Tommy raised a curious eyebrow when he realized that she wasn't wearing a bra. Then, he remembered the wet lingerie hanging over the towel rack. Unless Kim had borrowed something from his aunt (who was hardly her size), she had nothing on underneath the shirt. Although he understood the necessity of the situation, he found the thought strangely unsettling, but he couldn't say why.

"You look great," Tommy said appreciatively. "That shirt looks a helluva lot better on you than it ever did on me."

"Thanks," Kim murmured self-consciously. It was the closest thing to a dress she had worn in ages, and she had all but forgotten how nice it felt to have a guy --especially Tommy-- notice her. She surveyed his ensemble (especially how well the jeans fit) with equal appreciation.

"You two better get going," John urged as he made his exit. He shook his head and almost muttered "young love," but knew that this was more than puppy love. Kim and Tommy had passed through that a long time ago. Maybe his shot about the wedding wasn't that far off the mark.

Kim said little as the two headed towards the east side of the city. Tommy wondered if she was going to say anything at all; however she finally spoke up when he drove past the Wal-Mart.

"Why can't we stop there? I can get everything I need and . . . ."

"Going to Wal-Mart is not what I call real shopping," he replied, recalling something she had once told him. "Come on, Kim; this is supposed to be fun."

"I don't think I know how to have fun anymore," was her soft answer.

"Then I'll teach you."

"Tommy . . . I don't feel comfortable in crowds. What if the Mercytes show up again? They don't care who's around when they attack. Innocent people could be hurt . . . ."

"Kim, just for one day --just for today-- I don't want you to worry about the Mercytes, all right? I'll keep my eyes peeled and stuff. Today, all I want you to do is enjoy yourself."

"I . . . ." the protest died on Kim's lips when she saw Tommy's puppy dog expression. She had no defense against it. "I'll try."

"Good. Just let me take care of everything."

"I've gotten used to being self sufficient." Silence returned until Tommy pulled into the East Angel Mall. "This morning, Tommy, you wanted to ask me something --when I assumed that it was about the letter. What was it?"

"When all this started, why didn't you come to me for help?" Tommy asked; the answer to that question hadn't been found in the hastily scrawled words. Although he understood why she had done what she did, it still hurt that she hadn't turned to him when she really needed help. "I would have stood by you; I wouldn't have let you face these assassins all by yourself. And neither would Zordon and the others. You could have come to us for help . . . ."

"No, I couldn't have," she said quietly. "Whoever is after me knows all about the Rangers . . . who we are, who our families are. While things were still in the threat stage, I was warned not to say anything to the Rangers otherwise their families would be . . . ."

"Oh," Tommy whispered, fully comprehending at last that Kim really hadn't had a choice but to face her ordeal alone. He would have done the same thing. "Oh man, Kim; you have no idea how I wish I could have been there for you."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"But I can be there for you now."

"I can't let you, Tommy."

"I'm standing by you, Kim; I'll see this through to the end with you."

"There's a good chance that I won't survive."

"That doesn't matter. If they take you out; they'll have to take me out with you."

"Tommy . . . !"

"I'm serious. I tried living without you once; I won't do it again. Don't make me do it again," Tommy pleaded. The sincerity of his words caught both young people by surprise, but they were the truth that Tommy knew in his heart. "Let me help."

Kim wanted to refuse. She had sacrificed so much to keep Tommy alive; yet the thought of having him fighting by her side filled her with a hope that she thought she had lost. "You really want to see this through with me?"

"Yes."

"All right, I-I accept."

Tommy reached up to brush away the diamond-like teardrops from her cheek. When the truck was safely parked, he leaned over and kissed her.

"Okay, no more sad faces. It's time to shop."

"You sound like I used to," Kim said, managing a grin. Tommy reached out for her hand; when she took it, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Tommy knew exactly where he wanted to go; Nordstroms was one of Kim's favorite stores. Many was the time he thought she'd melt the plastic in this place. However, when Kim realized where they were headed, she balked. Tommy held up a hand to silence her protests.

"This is where I want to take you to shop," he insisted. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "It's also the only store I'm real familiar with."

Kim threw her arms around him. "After what I put you through, I don't deserve this."

"After what you've been through, you definitely deserve this. Come on; where to first? Lingerie?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Considering you left your unmentionables drying out in the bathroom, I thought you might like to . . . ." Tommy began delicately. Kim blushed. She hadn't realized he had noticed.

The various ladies' departments occupied nearly the entire first floor of the store. With surprising ease, Tommy directed Kim to lingerie section; he had surprised himself by remembering the layout so well.

Tommy watched Kim as she made her selections: very plain, very sensible. Occasionally, he'd catch her glance over at the more feminine looking panties and bras, but she'd turn away with a wistful sigh. He knew what she was doing.

"Kim, you don't have to be so practical. You're not going to be living out of a backpack any longer. If you want something fancy, go ahead."

Kim flushed scarlet. She hadn't realized she had been so obvious. She was used to shopping for practicality and durability. She had had to limit herself to what she needed; her wants had ceased to be a consideration. Instead of replying to that, she countered with, "I can't believe you're standing here trying to help me pick out underwear. You used to wander over all over the place until I finished in this department."

Tommy simply shrugged. "The only time I'm letting you out of my sight is when you go into the fitting room."

"Speaking of which, I'd better go see if these fit," Kim said hastily. She wasn't sure what to make of Tommy's behavior. It was both discomfiting and heartening.

"You gonna model 'em for me?" Tommy teased, grinning broadly.

"Oh you . . . ." Kim muttered, playfully swatting his arm. For a moment, it felt like old times.

While Kim was in the fitting room, Tommy wandered back over to the items that had caught her eye. He was pretty taken with the lavender set himself; as he recalled, Kim had looked pretty good in the shade when he saw her in it during the Muranthias mess. He glanced over at the dressing room, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a grin. If Kim wouldn't pick out some not-so-practical items for herself, he'd do it for her. He just had to figure out what size.

"May I help you?" the salesclerk asked.

"Actually, yes," he replied, hitting upon a plan. "You see, my girlfriend lost everything in a fire and . . . ."

A short time later, the sales clerk returned with the empty packages; however, Kim was right behind her, looking rather annoyed.

"Why did you have to tell her that cockamamie story?" Kim hissed. "I have never been so embarrassed . . . ."

"You couldn't try on anything else without underwear on, and I didn't want the clerk thinking you were shoplifting," Tommy explained reasonably as he took the other packages from her, adding them to the ones on the counter.

Kim let out a slow breath, knowing Tommy was right.

"Don't you need a nightgown, too?" he queried innocently.

Kim hadn't really thought about that; she had gotten used to sleeping in her clothes.

"And what about a robe or something?" Tommy continued.

"We don't have to get everything at once," Kim reminded him.

"Let's just see what they have," he suggested, and once Kim reluctantly wandered off, Tommy turned to the clerk. "I'd like to get her that lavender set, and could you --um-- help me and maybe pick out a couple of other colors?"

"Certainly, sir, and I take it they young lady is not to know?"

"Yeah, something like that." Flashing the clerk a grateful smile, Tommy hurried off to join Kim in sleepwear.

Hosiery was next, and Tommy made no objection to sensible white socks. In the shoe department, Kim wouldn't look at anything other than tennis shoes. Then came sportswear. Kim settled on the jeans readily enough, but she refused to look at the skirts or jumpers. Tommy managed to talk her into a couple of pairs of shorts, though. Plain t-shirts and a couple of button downs were all Kim would consider in tops, but Tommy snuck in a lacy midriff and a sassy pink top with spaghetti straps. He couldn't help the knowing grin he wore, and he was sure Kim was wondering why he was enjoying himself so much.

"I think that should do it," Kim sighed as she collected the bags from the clerk.

"Are you sure?"

"It's more than I've owned since Florida."

"You haven't even looked at the dresses yet," Tommy pointed out. "Wouldn't you like to take a peek?"

"I don't need a dress . . . ."

"I didn't ask if you needed one. Come on, what would it hurt to look?" He was bound and determined that Kimberly was not leaving the store with out something that was pretty, feminine, and utterly not necessary. Something to make her feel special.

"You know, Kim; you don't always have to dress up. You'd look spectacular in anything you wore," he had said once upon a time.

"Tommy Oliver, you are really acting weird," Kim muttered, but she was easily persuaded to wander over to the dress department. There were t-shirt dresses and lightweight floral prints that reminded Tommy of some of the dresses Kim used to have. He noticed that a rose colored tank dress with laces in the back caught Kim's eye.

"Try it on," he urged; to forestall her protest, he added, "You used to spend forever trying stuff on without buying it. While you're welcome to keep my tee, I'm sure you'd like to have something that fits a little better."

Kim bit her lip, glancing from the dress to Tommy. It really was tempting.

"It isn't that expensive, and it's even on sale," he continued, pulling out her old justifications for many of her purchases.

"Well . . . ." she caved in.

"And if you're going to try on one, you might as well try two," he suggested, indicating the other dress she was eyeing.

She smiled up at him gratefully then scampered off. Tommy just shook his head. And she used to have such fun shopping. It made him angry to see Kim like this . . . on guard every minute, jumping at every little noise or flicker of shadow, unable to let herself go and enjoy something so simple as shopping . . . however, it wouldn't do for Kim to see his anger. It was as if their roles had reversed. He had always been the brooding one, the warrior/loner who needed to be drawn out, and she had been the optimistic one, the one who could bring light to his shadows. It was his turn to be Kim's light.

Tommy realized that Kim was taking an awfully long time; thinking that she might be fussing in front of the mirrors, he wandered back towards the fitting rooms. He found Kim by the mirrors all right, but she wasn't wearing either of the dresses she was supposed to try on. She was holding up a party dress and checking out her reflection. He smiled indulgently. Kim was more interested in frilly things than she was letting on. She finally caught him staring at her; with a guilty flush, she set the other gown aside. Without a word, she took the other dresses into the dressing room.

While Kim was occupied, he wandered over to see what it was that had caused Kim to smile so dreamily at her reflection. The thigh high dress was lavender with a sheer violet lace overlay--a high tank neckline with an open back crisscrossed with thin straps, princess seamed, and the flared skirt had a fluted hem. Ha! I bet Kim never realized I paid that much attention whenever she and Aisha were going on about clothes! It was a very elegant dress, and Tommy thought Kim would look absolutely wonderful in it.

"What do you think?" Kim queried, emerging from the fitting room in the rose print. She found Tommy studying the purple dress that had caught her eye. He looked up and smiled brightly.

"I thought you looked great in my shirt, but wow!"

"Should I try the other one?"

"Sure, but would you also mind trying this one on?" he asked, holding out the party dress. Seeing her reluctance, he added, "Indulge me, okay?"

"I've been indulging you all morning."

"Please? I'd really like to see you in this."

"All right," Kim agreed. She just wish Tommy wouldn't tempt her so; the dress was gorgeous, but she had no need of a party dress right now. Still, she really did want to see how it looked on.

As Kim vanished into the back rooms, Tommy drifted over to the display window, noticing that one of the mannequins was outfitted in the same dress with all the appropriate accessories from a silver hair clip, rhinestone jewelry, shimmering lavender hose, to silver sandals. Kim would definitely look spectacular in the outfit. He wandered back over to the counter as Kim stepped out of the dressing rooms.

"That dress was made for you," Tommy murmured as she spun around, causing the lacy overlay to fan out delicately. Kim seemed not to hear him as she examined her reflection. Absently, she pulled her hair up from the nape of her neck and piled it up on top of her head.

"What about a silver hair clip," Tommy suggested as he slipped up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He found their reflections rather startling; there was something in them that he had never noticed before. They were only eighteen, but the couple that looked back at him in the mirror seemed so much older. The emotions in their faces were so much deeper than anything a teenager would know. Their reflection reminded Tommy of his parents . . . the way they would stand together, sometimes touching, sometimes not, but always together and so in love it was obvious to anyone who looked at them --even after twenty-some-odd years of marriage. It was the sort of thing he had always wanted for himself in a relationship. Once, he had thought that's what he had with Kimberly, but he had never seen it before . . . until now. Impulsively, Tommy softly kissed the side of her neck.

The distant, dreamy gaze left Kim's eyes. "Tommy, no. It's too expensive, and I have no place to wear something like this."

"They do have victory dinners after the races, you know."

"Tommy, please. I . . . I just can't . . . ."

He could see that she had fallen in love with the dress; it hurt for her to say no to it, but there was no way she could justify it to herself.

"All right . . . for now, but once we get this business of yours settled, we're coming back here to get it," he informed her.

"We'll see."

Once Kim went to get changed (after a final, wishful glance in the mirror), Tommy turned to the sales clerk. "Do you think you can find me the same items that the mannequin has on --including the shoes in a size 7?"

Kim would kill him, but he didn't care. It was just the thing she needed.

"I don't remember there being this many bags," Kim noted as she and Tommy carted the packages out to the truck. "I didn't think I bought all that much."

Tommy just shrugged and said nothing.

"I really do appreciate this, Tommy," Kim sighed. "I just wish it wasn't necessary."

"I wish you'd let me do more for you." He opened Kim's door for her; she gave him a puzzled look as she slid into her seat.

"Are we heading back to the track?" she queried.

"Nope, at least not for a while. I figured we'd grab some lunch then take care of a few other things."

"Lunch? I've already eaten more today than usual."

"I know." He shuddered at the somber reminder. "I know it'll take some getting used to, but you're not on the run any longer. You've got to start taking better care of yourself," Tommy chided gently.

"And if I don't, you will?"

"Damn straight."

Tommy was being excessively protective, and although it rankled somewhat, Kim loved him dearly for it. "So, where are we headed for lunch?"

"Trust me. You'll enjoy it."

Since Tommy wasn't going to be more forthcoming, Kim settled back to enjoy the ride.

Where in the world is he taking me? Kim wondered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. The beating she had taken the other day and the shopping trip had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. Wherever it was Tommy was headed sure had to be special if he was willing to drive clear across the city when he was hungry. She did a double take when he finally pulled into a parking lot.

"The Juice Bar?" she queried.

"Sure, why not?"

"Aren't we a little old to be hanging out here these days?" As she recalled, one rarely saw high school grads at the Youth Center.

"I haven't been back here since before graduation. Besides, when we're done here, I want to swing by my house and check on the place," Tommy said.

"You sound like your folks aren't around."

"They're not. Since I'm racing with Uncle John, they decided to do Europe this summer. The last I heard from them, they were in Italy."

Kim's face clouded at the mention of Europe. Tommy caught the shadow.

"You haven't talked to your mother since you fled the gym, have you?"

Kim shook her head and bit back a tear. "They were lucky to survive they Mercytes' attack; I'd only be endangering them further if I tried calling. I found out the hard way with the training center that those sleazebuckets are monitoring phone lines and stuff for folks I'm likely to call. I haven't talked to my mom, dad, or brother in almost a year."

"I bet your mom is going absolutely nuts," Tommy murmured sympathetically.

"She probably thinks I'm dead; after the attack on the gym . . . ."

Tommy simply wrapped his arm around her and held her for a moment. "We'll get your life back, Kim. I promise."

She essayed a wan smile at his bravado as she let him usher her inside.

Just like the other day, the strangeness of the Juice Bar out weighed the familiarity of the surroundings. It wasn't "home" any longer. No more Jason and Tommy teaching kids karate on the mats. No more gymnastics on the equipment. Ernie's round, smiling face wasn't behind the bar, and the gang wasn't at their usual table. Tommy guided her over to "their" table unerringly.

"I think this belongs to the new Rangers now," Kim whispered as he pulled out a chair for her.

"But they're not here, so anyone can sit here," he whispered back with a wink. "You feel up to a salad?"

"A small one," Kim compromised, "and a glass of water."

"Shall I see what the Smoothie flavor of the week is?"

Tommy was trying so hard that Kim didn't have the heart to fight him, so she simply nodded.

While she waited for Tommy to return with their food, Kim surveyed the activity in the Youth Center. It was surprisingly quiet for the middle of the day. Then, a group of little boys and girls in crisp white gis wandered in; their sensei arrived shortly thereafter. Kim smiled as she recalled Tommy leading his students through the warm-ups and stretches.

"Whatcha thinking about, Beautiful?" Tommy asked as he set her plate in front of her.

"I was remembering how much you always enjoyed teaching. Actually, I was really surprised when Justin told me that you were racing full time for your uncle and hadn't taught in a while. I always assumed that you'd open your own school like Rocky did." She studied his expression thoughtfully and realized that he hadn't said one word about getting in any practice, and he had always been meticulous about working on his katas. He never skipped practice for anything. She had the sense that he hadn't worn a gi since the tournament for the shelter. "You've given up martial arts, haven't you? Why? You loved them."

"My heart just wasn't in it anymore," Tommy answered with a heartfelt sigh. "Every time I taught a class here, I'd look out across the juice bar and see what was missing . . . ."

"Or do you mean 'who'?" Kim asked softly.

"Things were never the same for me after you left . . .even before I got that bogus letter. It hurt not being able to see your shining eyes watching me from across the room or being there to cheer me on at a demonstration, but I got by at first because I knew we were still together. After your letter, though . . . the things that once brought me joy didn't anymore --like being a Ranger. I was so proud of being a Ranger, but after you left . . . it was just a duty, something to immerse myself in to hide from the pain. After our first run in with Divatox, Rangering only served to remind of you . . . . I guess I took my uncle's offer to drive for him because I needed something else to keep my mind off how empty I was feeling."

It killed Kim to know that she had caused him so much pain; she found herself hurting for him and all the things he had lost because of her. "I never wanted to hurt you like that, but it was the only way I could keep you safe."

"Hey, don't . . . ." Tommy said quickly, as she looked away, blinking back guilty tears.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

"I know you are, and I know you had no choice. Hey, we've lost enough time as it is; let's not waste anymore with tears." The last thing he wanted was for Kim to feel guilty over what happened.

"D-do you think you'll ever go back to teaching?" Kim wondered as she wiped her eyes and fought for control. She hadn't lost it like this in months.

"Someday," he answered but sounded none too sure.

"Oh."

"Why? You sound . . . disappointed."

"I was wondering if maybe you might consider taking on a student."

"You?"

"Uh huh."

It was Tommy's turn to be astonished into speechlessness. "Y-you never asked me to teach you before . . . I thought you weren't interested . . . ."

"With my gymnastics, I never had the time to devote to the martial arts like the rest of you," she explained. "Even though I never asked you to teach me doesn't mean I didn't learn anything from you. I've been lucky so far; I've been able to stay alive using my gymnastics, the smattering of karate and things I picked up from you guys, and stuff I've learned on the street. My luck isn't going to last forever. I could use some proper training; I think I've found a reason to keep on fighting." And she took Tommy's hand.

Tommy pulled into his driveway and glanced over at Kim, who had been uncommonly quiet. A tender smile tugged at his lips when he realized she was sleeping. It wasn't an easy sleep, though. Tension marred her expression; he wanted to kick himself for discussing her lessons. He had just been so excited about the fact that she wanted him to teach her . . . and this was supposed to have been a day when she wasn't to worry about survival. He hated to wake her; she still had to be pretty wiped out, but the car was no place to sleep, and even though she was resting, she wasn't relaxed. Tommy had a good idea how to remedy that.

"Hey, Beautiful, we're here," he said, touching her arm gently. Kim snapped awake and slapped his hand aside as if he had thrown a blow. "Ow!" he rubbed his wrist gingerly.

"Oh God, Tommy, I'm sorry . . . ."

"It's my fault; I should have known better. Well, it tells me you have excellent reflexes," he joked.

"I'd rather have normal reflexes," she said glumly, grasping futilely at the fading images of her dream of a life that should have been instead of the nightmare she was presently living.

"It'll be all right, Kim," Tommy murmured, pulling her into a hug. It was impossible not to notice how rigid her body was. "You have got to relax or these muscles of yours are going to snap, and I think I know just what you need."

"Oh?"

The two entered the Oliver house, and Kimberly could instantly tell that it hadn't been occupied for months. She always liked being at Tommy's place; it always seemed so alive with warmth, happiness, and love, and that same caring had been extended to her once upon a time. It had helped filled the void when her mother had first started dating Adrian seriously and later when she married him. Kim found herself wishing Jan and Thomas were around, but it was probably better that they weren't.

"I'm afraid there's not much in the place at the moment, but help yourself to whatever's here. I gotta run upstairs and check something," Tommy said and quickly bounded up the steps. Kim wandered aimlessly about the familiar living room. Since she and Tommy had started dating, this had become almost a second home to her. She glanced at the pictures on the mantle piece --faces as familiar as her own family's. There were a few new ones: a couple of more recent pictures of Tommy --one from his first race, one of Tommy and another man who looked frighteningly like him . . . . That must be David, the brother Jason told me about, she mused. Tommy hadn't said anything about his brother yet; she'd have to ask him about that. She'd like to meet him . . . . Maybe later, when this nightmare is over. Kim almost laughed out loud; she had said "when" not "if"; that was a first! Then, she spied a photo that had been shuffled around to the back; it had once occupied a more prominent position on the shelf. One of her and Tommy at the Spring Formal --the last dance they had attended before she left. It made her heartache to see how young she looked --how young both of them looked--and how happy they seemed. Was it possible to be that happy again? Kim found herself hoping so.

Tommy headed through his parents' bedroom to the master bath. Whistling to himself, he turned on the water in the large sunken tub then went rooting around his mother's collection of bubble baths and bath oils. A nice, long soak in a hot tub, Tommy mused. His mom said it was the most sinfully indulgent luxury she could think of. Considering that the extra-large tub and redecorated bathroom had been her Christmas present a while back, there had to be something to her opinion. He seriously doubted Kim had had the time to do more than grab an occasional quick shower.

Steam rose from the rapidly rising water as Tommy read over the various labels He finally settled on a lilac scented oil and poured some in. Next, he added a generous portion of bubble bath, creating frothy suds. He smiled to himself, thinking how surprised Kim would be. He hoped she liked it. Once the tub was set, he looked about, scanning for anything else that might help the mood a little.

Soft music and candlelight.

As he figured, his folks had a CD player available, but no candles. He'd have to save that for next time. He perused the collection of discs, looking for something soft and relaxing, and found a case that was well scuffed --indicating that it was one that had been often used by his parents. It was some light jazz; he didn't know if Kim would like it or not, but it seemed to fit the mood he wanted to create.

And dad thinks I never paid attention whenever he was pampering mom, Tommy mused, grinning as he slipped the disc in. Most guys learned how to play ball or fix cars with their fathers. Not Tommy. He had his Uncle John to thank for his interest in the martial arts and racing. His dad wasn't a sportsman; he was an incurable romantic. He definitely knew how to treat a lady right--judging by how much his mother loved the attention his dad lavished on her. Tommy only hoped he could do half so well.

Satisfied that everything was perfect, he went down to fetch Kim.

Kim set the photograph back in its place, and her eyes wandered back to Tommy's senior portrait. Such a difference, she thought. There was only six months between the two pictures, and at a casual glance, he didn't look any different. But upon looking closer inspection, one could see that he seemed so much older and mature in the portrait. He was smiling that same heart-melting smile, but the picture didn't capture the warmth. That's because it isn't there. His smile never reached his eyes . . . those beautiful, expressive eyes. She had always loved how she could look into his eyes and know exactly what Tommy was feeling; the emptiness in his eyes in the photo was chilling. She would give anything to bring that warmth back.

Suddenly, she felt Tommy's presence. Turning, she found him standing on the stairs watching her silently. A wistful smile tugged at his lips, and she was pleased to see that it glowed in his eyes as well. A bubble happiness swelled within her; the warmth was there again.

"What is it, Beautiful?" Tommy wondered, taken aback by the light that beamed in her face.

"Nothing," she murmured. Maybe coming back was not such a mistake after all.

Tommy let her have her happy little secret for the moment. "I need you to come upstairs with me; there's something I want you to see."

"Sure." She accepted the hand he held out to her.

"You have to close your eyes."

"Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"I'm not sure I can handle anymore surprises today," Kim said warily as Tommy caught her other hand.

"Just trust me."

"With my life," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

She looked so cute standing there that Tommy couldn't resist the urge to slip her a quick kiss. Then, he led her up the stairs.

"Okay, you can open 'em now," Tommy directed. He stepped behind Kim so she could see what awaited.

"What's all this?" Kim wondered. She had heard the music and smelled the lilacs before he ever led her through the doorway.

"A bath to soak your cares away, milady," Tommy claimed with a sweeping bow.

The tub indeed looked tempting. Kim chewed on her lower lip; a bath would feel so wonderful...!

"The towels are right over . . . ." Tommy paused upon finding the towel shelf empty. Then he remembered that they were all still downstairs from the last time he had done the laundry after his folks had left. "Tell you what, I'll go down and bring up some warm towels while you settle in. Then, I'll leave you to soak in peace."

"You are spoiling me rotten, you know that?" Kim said as she enveloped Tommy in a hug.

His fingers gently lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes.

"I always wanted to. I hope I do it right."

"You're off to an incredible start. Thank you."

Tommy kissed her on the tip of her nose and reluctantly backed his way out of the bathroom. Then, he hustled downstairs.

In the basement, he pulled several large towels from the laundry basket and tossed them in the dryer. Just a few minutes to warm them up . . . nothing felt like getting out of the tub and wrapping up in a warmed towel. Next, he headed to the kitchen. Searching the refrigerator, he found nothing cold to drink except wine, and he wasn't sure if Kim liked it or not. He didn't particularly care for it. In the pantry, he found an unopened bottle of sparkling white grape juice. That wouldn't do, either --at least, not until it was well chilled. Then, he glimpsed the box of instant hot chocolate. His mom was fond of drinking hot chocolate all year round, and she had introduced Kim to her favorite flavor: chocolate raspberry royale.

By the time Tommy had the chocolate ready, the towels were done. He collected Kim's treats and wandered upstairs.

"Special delivery!" he called as he tapped on the bathroom door. He heard a sleepy "Mmm!" and smiled. He pushed the door open. "Towels and a beverage for . . . ."

The words stuck in his throat as he spotted Kim amid the profusion of bubbles. She had piled her hair on top of her head and leaned her head back against the side of the tub, a smile of pure bliss lighting her face. It was something in the line of her body that caught his eye . . . perhaps the trickle of water that caressed her neck and slipped down to the swell of her breasts which gently rounded over the crest of the concealing froth. Tommy had never seen Kim like this before--so vulnerable, so inviting. It was all he could do to keep from wading into the tub with her and taking her into his arms.

Tommy tried to shake off the powerful grip of his feelings. He had drooled over Kim before; he had seen her in clothes that covered less than the soap suds, but this was different. This was more than mere teenage lust; it was a yearning deeper than anything he had ever known. The sight of Kim's fragility and desirability stirred more than just his hormones; it stirred his heart as well.

"Are you okay?" Kim queried softly, and Tommy realized he was staring.

"Sorry, it's just that you look so . . . ." he murmured huskily. With a blush he tried to master himself. "Here are the towel and a little treat for you."

Taking the mug, Kim took a sip. "You're mom's hot chocolate!"

"She won't mind sharing," He assured her. Tommy knew he should leave; if he stayed he was liable to do something he'd regret, yet he couldn't shake the spell Kim had over him.

"Was there something else you wanted?" Kim questioned gently, favoring him with a smile that threatened to rob him of all control.

"I was wondering . . . ." For a moment, his mind went blank. Then, he thought of something else that she might like. " . . . would you like me to wash your hair?"

Tommy loved having his hair washed. It was the reason he was willing to pay the prices in regular salons. He enjoyed the feel of someone running fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp. He didn't know how many times he had nearly fallen asleep while the beautician washed his hair because he was so relaxed.

"Y-you really want to?"

"If you'd like me to."

Kim pulled out the hairclip in answer.

Tommy collected the shampoo and the decorative pitcher off the vanity and knelt down on the tiles behind Kim. He could have used the spray attachment, but he preferred to leisurely douse her hair with pitchers full of water. Kim didn't seem to mind; she let out a contented sigh as the water cascaded over her. Slowly, he massaged the pearly liquid into Kim's caramel colored locks.

Kim melted back against the side of the tub and nearly slid under the water in a state of perfect relaxation. Tommy's fingers felt so incredible as they massaged her scalp and combed through her tresses. Tommy played with her hair, piling it on top of her head, twisting it into shapes like a little kid would. She nearly giggled. She never imagined Tommy ever doing anything like this! She leaned forward as his rubdown wandered to the back of her neck. That felt good, too. Her neck was really sensitive . . . she wondered if he remembered. His hands felt so good . . . and then she realized that they were shaking. Why? What was there for him to be nervous about? After all, he was only washing her hair . . . however, she also recognized the intimacy of their situation: her naked in the tub, having the whole house to themselves, old desires surfacing . . . she had seen the look in his eyes as he stood there with the towels. It was a lot stronger than anything she ever remembered seeing in him before.

Tommy had to stop. He had to regain control of himself. It was just so tempting to let his hands slip lower and lower down Kim's body. He had never done anything like this before; he couldn't believe how erotic giving Kim a bath was turning out to be. However, this wasn't the time to give in to his desires. Kim had placed herself in his hands . . . she had put her trust in him. He couldn't abuse it. There would be a time to explore his feelings, but this wasn't it. It wasn't until he took the pitcher up once again that Tommy realized his hands were trembling. He hoped Kim hadn't noticed; he wasn't sure he could explain it to her. Getting a hold of himself, Tommy started rinsing her hair out.

"How was that?" he asked, the scent of lilacs filling his senses as he leaned close to her.

Kim shivered as his breath exploded hotly against her neck. "That was absolutely yummy," she purred.

"Good. It was supposed to be," Tommy answered, pleased that she had enjoyed it so much. "Now, I'll leave you alone."

"Tommy, why are you doing this?" Kim wondered, twisting around to look up at him.

"Because you deserve it." He placed a finger across her lips to silence her protest. "When you're done, don't get dressed right away. Just wrap up in a towel and meet me in my folks' room."

"There's more?"

"Lots more, Beautiful. Lots more."

". . . thanks, man, I really appreciate it."

"You name the favor; this means a lot to me . . . ." Tommy heard movement behind the bathroom door. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you in the morning." He hung up the phone just as Kim opened the door. As he had requested, she was wrapped in one of the huge bath towels, and she seemed to be glowing. "How do you feel?" he queried.

"Like an overcooked prune!" Kim laughed. Standing on tiptoe, she pecked him on the cheek. "It was wonderful. Thanks so much for doing all this."

"And I've only just begun," he declared with bravado. "If you will take a seat on the edge of the bed, we'll get on to the next little treat." He took her hand and guided her over to the queen-sized bed with its downy comforters. He unwrapped the towel on her head and spread it out over her shoulders. Next, he took up her hairbrush. He smiled at Kim's wide-eyed expression as he slipped around behind her on the bed and ran the brush through the wet tangles. He loved playing with Kim's hair, especially when it was dry--it was so soft and silky. Kim moaned her appreciation as the plastic teeth worked through her damp locks. Her response made Tommy feel good . . . he liked knowing he could make her feel good.

The longer he brushed, the more slumped Kim's shoulders became, almost as if she couldn't keep herself upright. Even after the last of the snarls was gone, Tommy continued playing with her hair until he felt Kimberly's head dropping forward and bobbing back.

"Lay down," he instructed, moving off the bed.

"Now what?" Kim wondered drowsily as she lay back where she sat.

"You'll see. Scoot up and roll over."

"Do you want me to sit up and beg, too?" she quipped. Tommy popped her with one of the pillows then pulled it out the sham and tucked it under her head. Once she was settled, he began kneading her shoulders.

"You're going to give me a shoulder rub?"

"For a change. What do I owe you, like a thousand of them or so?"

"Something like that, but who's counting," Kim answered around a yawn. To Tommy's immense surprise, she tugged at the towel, pulling it loose, and folded it down to her waist. "Make it a full blown backrub, and we'll call it even."

"You got it, Beautiful."

Tommy alternated between deep, penetrating strokes and lighter caresses. In short order, his fingers had worked their magic on Kim's taut muscles, and he was rewarded to feel her tension ease. Once that happened, he abandoned the harder rub in favor of the softer, gentler strokes. He worked on Kim's back, letting his mind drift through memories of happier days. He had never felt closer to Kimberly than he did right at this moment. It was with some surprise that he discovered Kim was sound asleep. However, although he continued caressing her shoulders and back, his fingers occasionally wandering into her hair; he wanted nothing more than to simply sit with her as she slept. Reluctantly, he forced himself to stop. There were things he needed to do. Grabbing a quilt from the rack, Tommy tucked it around her.

"Sleep well, Kim," he whispered, placing a kiss on her brow. With a heavy sigh, Tommy went off in search of his father's spare cellular phone and his old communicator. He had a phone call to make.

"Thanks, Alpha."

Tommy retrieved his father's second cell phone from the charger and dialed the number his folks had left for their hotel in Vienna. He hadn't wanted to chance using the regular phone lines as they were probably being tapped, and he wasn't sure if the service his dad used was capable of getting a call through halfway around the world, so he had gone to Dimitria for help. Thankfully, she was willing to bend the rules a bit for the duration of the "Mercyte crisis." He just hoped Alpha was able to transfer the call through the Rangers' communications system.

What time is it in Vienna anyway? Tommy wondered as the call went through. Not that it mattered. Still, he hated waking his folks up--or worse, interrupting something. Two rings . . . Three . . . .

Tommy smiled; his father sounded like he was three sheets to the wind, not that that was remarkable; it didn't take much. His dad did not have a good head for alcohol--then again, neither did he. In the background he could hear his mother's sharp, "Thomas William . . . ."

"Hi, Dad. It's Tommy."

"It's the middle of the afternoon here, Dad."

"How's Vienna?"

Fortunately, Tommy was used to his parent's little side conversations.

"Yes, I did. Have you guys been to Paris?"

"Did you guys like it enough to want to go back?" Tommy interrupted, getting to the point of his call.

"Thomas, give me the phone . . . Tommy, what is going on?" Janice Oliver queried as she took over the line, for which Tommy was grateful.

"Mom, I need you guys to swing back through Paris. It's important . . . it's about Kimberly . . . ." and he gave his mother a brief outline of what had happened.

". . . so you need us to go visit Caroline and let her know that Kim is all right --for the moment," his mother summarized at the conclusion of his tale.

"Kim hasn't talked to her mother since she fled Florida; I'm sure Mrs. Dumas is worried sick about her."

"I wouldn't chance it. Kim's sure her mother's line is being monitored --our line is probably being monitored. It's a safe bet that they know you're in Vienna."

"Some friends are helping bounce the call around." Tommy could almost see his mother's eyebrows climbing questioningly.

Tommy smiled; if his uncle had been able to figure it out, then there was no doubt that his mother had to have, too --a long time ago. "Yes." There was an extended silence.

"They're doing all they can to find out who sent these things; that's the only way to stop them. Kim and I can handle the tin cans now that we know these things are robots; we won't have to hold back. We're okay for the time being. Kim estimates that they won't be able to attack again until sometime tomorrow."

"Uncle John already took care of it."

"Yes, Mom, you drilled that into my 'Swiss cheese' before you left."

Tommy smiled at the affectionate jibe. "I need to get going, Mom, before someone figures out what I'm doing and traces this call. I didn't want to involve you guys, but it was the only way...."

"We will."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Actually, there is one more thing."

"Can you recommend a nice restaurant?"

***

"Kim, time to wake up."

Tommy's gentle prompting was followed by an equally gentle kiss. Kim, however, had been awake before he had even spoken; Tommy had made enough noise walking into the room to wake the dead, which was unusual because he used to be able to creep up on her without her being able to hear a sound.

She flinched at the thought. Still, she didn't feel much like waking up; she hadn't slept so well in ages! The bed was deliciously warm and comfy, and she felt so relaxed. She made sleepy, pouting noises, rolled over, and burrowed her face deeper into the stuffed animal tucked into her arms. She inhaled deeply . . . at first, she had thought it was Tommy's shirt because it smelled so much like him, then she realized what it was: Dragon, the stuffed dragon his great-grandmother had given to him when he had been very small. She recalled how Tommy blushed the first time she had been to his room and found it on his bed.

"Come on, Cinderella. I thought a kiss was supposed to wake you up," Tommy teased.

Kim opened her eyes and looked up into Tommy's smiling face. "I think you have your fairytales confused. You mean Sleeping Beauty; she's the one who woke up with a kiss."

"True, but Cinderella was the one who was going to the ball."

"Huh?" Kim sat up, belatedly recalled that she had nothing on, and ducked back under the covers. Then, she noticed the robe Tommy held out to her. He looked away modestly --to her amusement-- as she gratefully slipped it on. Then, she observed that he was dressed in his best suit --tie and everything-- and had his hair pulled back. "Who are you supposed to be? Prince Charming?"

"The ball starts at six, so unless Cinderella wants to eat dinner in the pumpkin patch, she'd better get her gown on."

"Tommy . . . ?"

His grin broadened. "If we want to make our dinner reservations, you need to get dressed."

"Where are our reservations for?" she asked, eyeing his formal attire with trepidation.

"The country club."

"How in the world . . . ?"

"Dad has a membership through the firm. He has to have some place to take clients to lunch and dinner besides McDonald's or Denny's."

"Tommy, we can't go to the country club for dinner!"

"Why not? According to Dad, they have great food, and you've always wanted to go there."

"I don't have anything to wear!" she objected.

"Maybe Mom has something in the wardrobe you can use," Tommy suggested.

"Your mother is a good six inches taller than I am."

"I think she might have a short cocktail dress or something that would work."

Muttering a variety of imprecations under her breath, Kim scrambled out of bed and padded over to the antique wardrobe. She flung the doors open and froze . . . .

Tommy could not keep the smile from his face as he saw Kim's expression in the mirrors set in the wardrobe's doors as she found the lavender dress. It was worth every dollar spent to see her surprise and delight . . . the smile on her lips and the happy tears that glistened in her eye. For a moment, he saw in her shining eyes a flash of the old Kimberly --the radiant image of a carefree young girl hopelessly in love. Then, practicality set in.

"Tommy . . . ." she admonished, turning to face him. He had already abandoned his seat on the bed. He held her gently by the shoulders and brushed his lips across her brow. Then, he silenced her protests with a finger to her cupid-bow lips.

"Answer me one question. When you tried this dress on earlier, how did it make you feel?" She blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Did it make you feel beautiful? Special?"

"Actually, seeing the way you looked at me when I was wearing this dress made me feel beautiful," she answered shyly. "I'd almost forgotten . . . ."

"Get dressed, and let me help you remember," Tommy whispered.

"Why are you doing this?" Kim whispered timidly.

"Because I love you," Tommy replied, his eyes oh-so-serious. Then, a bit of laughter flared in the chocolate depths. "And because every Cinderella needs a fairy godmother."

"I thought you were Prince Charming."

Tommy shrugged. "So I have to pull double duty tonight."

"Is this just a fairytale, Tommy? Am I going to wake up tomorrow in some cheap motel room or under an overpass and find out this was all just a dream?"

"If you so wish it, my princess, you can wake up tomorrow in my arms. This is real, Kim, as real as my love for you. As real as your love for me."

Kim melted into his arms, and the two shared a lingering embrace.

"Come, Cinderella," Tommy said at last. "The ball awaits, and Prince Charming is starved!"

"So where are my ladies-in-waiting?" Kim teased, finally getting into the spirit of things.

"They have the night off; I'm pulling the ladies' maid duty tonight, too."

"Go find the pumpkin and the white mice and get the carriage ready," Kim laughed, shoving him towards the door.

Tommy bowed. "As my lady wishes!"

***

"Feel up to dessert?" Tommy queried, setting his napkin next to his plate. For the most part, dinner had been an overwhelming experience from the food, to the service, to the overall atmosphere. Neither teen had ever been in so formal a restaurant. The two had spoken little during the meal; they hadn't needed to. A glance . . . a touch conveyed more eloquently what was in their hearts than mere words.

"Are you kidding? I scarcely have room to breathe, let alone eat anything," Kim answered. "I'm not even sure I can get out of this chair I'm so stuffed!"

"I hope you can, because I thought we might go out on the terrace for a bit." Tommy rose from his seat and helped Kim from hers.

"I still can't believe you did this," Kim murmured as she took Tommy's proffered arm, and the two headed through the enormous glass doors to the well-lit patio. They wandered along the railing until they reached a section overlooking the pond. Silvery moonlight shimmered on the dark waters. In the background, music wafted out from the lounge. Kim sighed as she leaned against the balustrade and gazed out over the picturesque scene. Tommy casually draped his arm around her shoulders. "What is your father going to say when he finds out you used his membership card?"

"He already knows," Tommy replied. "He's the one who suggested it."

Kim's head snapped up, and her eyes widened fearfully.

"How did he know? Tommy, you didn't . . . ?"

"I called him in Vienna."

"Tommy, do you realize what you've done? Your phone lines are tapped! The Mercytes know you're helping me . . . they'll go after your parents . . . !"

"I didn't use the phone. I had Alpha route the cell phone's signal through the Power Chamber's communication system. So unless they're monitoring the hotel in Vienna or the Power Chamber, the Mercytes won't know I called."

"Dimitria let you?" Kim asked wistfully, biting her lower lip as she thought of a call she longed to make.

Tommy knew what she was thinking. "You know what I found out when I talked to my folks? Their next stop is Paris."

"Paris?"

"Uh huh. I suggested that they look up your mom and . . . ."

Kim flung her arms around Tommy's neck, nearly knocking him over.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome, but don't you want to hear the rest?"

"The rest? There's more?"

"During the next 'lull,' I told dad we'd place another call and see if we can get your mom on the line."

Kim's knees nearly gave out. "Oh God, Tommy, it's been so long . . . ."

"I know."

A silvery tear trickled down Kim's cheek. Tommy gently brushed it away. "No tears allowed at the ball," he said softly.

Kim chuckled and brushed at her eyes.

"However, dancing is allowed," he continued. "Will you do me the honor of this dance, milady?"

With a trembling hand, Kim took his hand. Tommy pulled her close, and Kim relaxed in his arms, the scent of his aftershave filling her senses and his breath warm against her hair. The beat of his heart pounded soothingly in her ears. As they slowly swayed to the distant music, she recognized the tune and began to sing:

"I didn't realize you knew anything by Chicago," Tommy murmured.

"Is that who sings this?"

"Uh huh. My aunt's played their stuff so much, I probably have the whole repertoire memorized."

"I heard this on an oldies station when I left Angel Grove after the tournament," Kim explained, "and it was so appropriate that it just stuck with me. All I wanted to do was tell you how sorry I was for hurting you. I wanted to tell you how I really felt --that you were the part of me I couldn't let go, but I couldn't risk it . . . ."

"Sh, Kim. I know."

"It's just that . . . I really had given up, Tommy. If I hadn't been at the track when the sleazebuckets attacked yesterday, I'd have made my last stand, and when I'd have fallen, that would have been it. I never dreamed I get to tell you the truth . . . or even have a hope of talking to my mother again . . . ." The emotions caused the words to jam in her throat.

"There'll be time for all that, Kim. There'll be time to see your mother again. Time for us to be together. Time for everything. Just don't ever leave again . . . ."

While they were talking, the song had changed, and Tommy found the new ballad rather fitting.

"I nearly forgot what a nice singing voice you have," Kim murmured, moved by what the lyrics --what Tommy-- was saying.

"I don't sing much except for Christmas carols," Tommy answered with a shrug. "Please, Kim, I don't want to let you go ever again." And he held her tighter.

"I don't ever want to let you go again, either."

The two danced long into the night, softly serenading each other as each new ballad seemed to say for them what was in their hearts.

***

"NO!"

Kim surged forward, but hands held her back. She fought to break free, even as tears scalded her cheeks and her cries rendered her throat raw.

"Kim, it's me; Tommy. Wake up! It's a dream . . . just a bad dream!"

"T-Tommy?"

She opened her eyes to find herself wrapped in Tommy's arms. She was still in his parents' room; the covers from the bed had been scattered every which-a-way. A glance in the mirror revealed herself in a state of complete disarray from wild, tangled hair to red-rimmed, fear widened eyes and tear streaked cheeks.

"Tommy? Oh God, Tommy ... t-they ... they killed you. You died thinking I'd betrayed you ...." she gulped between sobs, clinging to him as if he was her lifeline.

"Sh, it's okay now. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, stroking her matted hair. She shivered in his arms --as much from fear as from cold. Her nightshirt was soaked through with sweat.

"I don't want you to die because of me!"

"I won't, Beautiful. Do you really think a bunch of walking tin cans can do what Rita, Zedd, Mondo, and Divatox couldn't? We Rangers are a pretty hard lot to kill."

Slowly, Kim began to settle down. She felt ashamed of herself for reacting as she had. How many nights had she had nightmares similar to this one? How many times had she woke screaming and in tears only to have to calm herself down and reassure herself? Why couldn't she do that now; why couldn't she stop shaking? Why did it feel so much better to have Tommy hold her and soothe her fears away with gentle strokes and soft words?

"Why don't we get you changed," Tommy suggested, fingering the damp cotton.

Kim nodded numbly and started tugging at the hem of her cotton tee. Tommy's hands stopped her, and she eyed him questioningly.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

She took his meaning and blushed. She hadn't been thinking, and she was completely naked underneath the oversized tee. Normally, she just slept in her clothes.

"Hang on a sec," he instructed. Tommy scrambled off the bed and collected one of the bags from the shopping trip. Rummaging around, he quickly located what he wanted and tossed it to Kim.

Kim eyed the garment with surprise. All silk and lace . . . it was the sweetest pink babydoll nightie; she hadn't worn anything like it in ages. Unaccountably, she felt herself blushing. Tommy seemed to be waiting for her to say something. "It's very pretty."

"I wasn't sure if you'd like it or not," Tommy said a trifle self-consciously.

Kim simply sat there staring at the rose pink lingerie as if she didn't know what to do with it. Tommy took her arm and slid it inside the sleeve of her nightshirt and did the same with the other, undressing her as if she was a small child. Kim watched, unable to do anything to help him as he slipped the fresh nightgown over her head and under the old. She wasn't quite sure how he managed it, but he had gotten her changed without seeing her at all. To Kim's surprise and discomfiture, she found herself profoundly disappointed when she realized that.

"Better?" Tommy asked.

Kim nodded.

"Why don't you try going back to sleep," he suggested, easing her back against the pillows and pulling the counterpane over her. He found Dragon and tucked him into her arms. Then kissed her gently on the brow.

"Will you be all right?" he queried.

"Yes."

"Good night, Kim."

Tommy reached for the light on the night table.

"Don't!" she yelped without knowing why. She didn't need a night light. She had never needed a nightlight.

"Okay, how about I just turn it down?"

Kim felt ridiculous as he dimmed the light. She wasn't a child! She was a grown woman. She didn't need Tommy to baby her like this --to soothe her fears and tell her it was going to be all right; she had survived plenty of worse nightmares over the past year.

No, she didn't need Tommy to comfort her. She wanted him to comfort her --to make the trembling stop and chase the tears and shadows away, to tell her there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Tommy?" she called out suddenly, her voice cracking and her tone frantic.

He paused in the doorway.

For so long, her wants had ceased to matter. All day long, Tommy had been trying to show her that they did, that they were important. This was something she wanted . . . if she could be brave enough to ask. She bit her lower lip and looked away as she made her timid request. "Stay with me?"

Tommy didn't answer right away, and Kim grew nervous. She looked up and was taken aback by the smile on his face. Her heart fluttered with hope.

"You really want me to?"

"Yes."

"Then, I'd be honored," he murmured, and Kim could scarcely contain the happiness swelling within her. She slid over to make room. Tommy lay down next to her and pulled her into his arms. Kim sighed as she settled into the nicest, warmest, safest place she had ever known.

For a second time that night, Kim awoke with her pulse pounding and her breath racing. Only this time, it wasn't from fear. Another dream, but one of bodies intertwined and desires fulfilled. Her eyes settled on the body next to hers.

Tommy had kicked the covers off so she was able look at all of him in the faint amber glow. He was as beautiful as she remembered . . . thick mahogany hair splayed across the pillow, lush lashes dusting bronzed cheeks, and full mouth curved in a faint smile. Her gaze swept across the smooth, hard expanse of his muscular chest and followed the line of his abs until the cotton flannel of his boxers disrupted the view. Without thinking, she reached out to touch him, thrilling at the feel of him. She had never really touched him like this before; she probably shouldn't even be doing it now, but she couldn't help herself. The silk of his skin stretched taut over steel muscles fascinated her. Her hand lingered over his chest, feeling the even rise and fall of this breathing and the steady drumming of his heart. It made her pulse quicken. Her hand slid lower, questing finger pausing at the puckered waistband. Kim swallowed nervously as she realized that she wasn't the only one having interesting dreams. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she regarded the bulge in Tommy's shorts.

At the first delicate brush of Kim's fingers, Tommy had woken up. Noticing the once-over that Kim was giving him, he continued to play opossum, not wanting to disturb her. He was curious to see what she might do. They had never been in a situation quite like this before. They had slept together . . . well, they had fallen asleep on the couch while watching a movie more than once, and there was that time they had fallen asleep as they had been talking while sitting in his 4 x 4 in Kim's driveway. This was different. They were sharing a bed with little more than a thin piece of lingerie between them, and never had Kim looked at him --or touched him-- as she was now. She had scoped him out often enough with a playful giggle and eyes full of girlish fantasies --just as he had often looked at her-- but never had it been so intently.

Tommy waited as Kim paused uncertainly while studying his imprisoned erection. There was something in the way she looked at him . . . the way she was leaning up . . . the strap of her lingerie had slipped down her right shoulder, revealing the gentle swell of her breast without baring it completely. It was a compelling sight. The silky pink gown rode high on her thigh, and Tommy's heart raced. The urge to take her was strong, yet he resisted. Not because it was what he should do, but because he wanted to. What happened next--if anything--was wholly up to Kimberly. If she wanted to explore him further, he was willing. If she wanted to curl up in his arms once again and go back to sleep, that's what he'd do without a qualm. Kim's hand drifted closer to his groin, hovering just above the distended cotton indecisively. For a moment, he saw a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. At least it wasn't fear.

He recalled her eyes when she had first come out of her nightmare. He had never seen her look so terrified--small, fragile, vulnerable--in all the time that he had known her. He had never looked at Kim as someone who was weak and helpless and needing to be protected, although the urge to protect was strong. He had seen fear in her eyes, but only a fool never felt fear. Kim was no fool. She had always radiated such confidence and strength of will; her bravery ran deeper than she knew. It had shaken him to see that stripped from her, and it made him ache for her to watch her struggle to regain her equilibrium, to master her fear by herself. The loneliness of it reminded him of his own dark times, struggling with memories of losing his powers and his own fear and helplessness then. Kim had stood by him, had offered him her strength, compassion, understanding and love. That's what Tommy had tried to offer her, and thankfully, she had accepted.

Almost without thinking, Kim settled her hand over the rise under the soft cotton. Her fingers trembled at the intimate contact. Tommy stirred slightly, and she quickly withdrew her hand. Still, she continued to gaze at him, filled with emotions too numerous to count and too powerful to explain.

She looked at him now with vision unclouded by girlish fantasies. She had no illusions --she had lost those when she had lost the life she once led. She knew Tommy wasn't perfect, wasn't the knight on a white horse that she had raised him up to be. He was forgetful and terminally tardy; he could be as full of himself as anyone. He had a temper, was moody and stubborn . . . but he was also steadfast and loyal, generous, warm and caring. He could make her laugh and make her feel things no one else ever could. It was as Tommy had said: somewhere along the way, they had become a part of each other. She couldn't even say when it happened, but when he hurt, she hurt. When he was dark and moody, she was light and cheerful. When she despaired and felt fear, he brought her hope and courage. She hadn't even realized it until she had let him go to save him; she had torn out a part of herself --the very thing that had made life worth living-- leaving behind an empty shell. How had either of them survived that cold, lonely half-life?

As she looked on him now, Kim knew more than ever that she didn't want to live without him again --even if it should be only for an hour or two more. Tommy was her life, and though they had reclaimed the missing parts of their souls, there was still an emptiness within. She still wasn't complete. The girl had become a woman in the time since Florida, the gymnast a warrior; however there was still a shadow of her former innocence tucked away, carefully preserved, waiting to be brought into the light and transformed.

She knew Tommy had felt that same sense of incompleteness. She had glimpsed it in his eyes earlier: a hunger, a need to be truly whole, completely one. She gazed up at him with eyes that were no longer innocent. She was not surprised to find him watching her. His eyes reflected the same depth of maturity and feeling back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Kim watched as his gaze flickered over her body and noted the catch in his breath. She was conscious of the fallen strap and the way it tugged the lacy bodice down enticingly. She made no move to correct that.

"Tommy," she whispered, almost afraid to speak.

"What is it, Beautiful?"

"Make love to me."

"Are you sure?"

In reply, Kim leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, searing his mouth with a passionate kiss torn from the depth of her being. As she savaged his mouth, she felt Tommy's hands at her waist, moving her until she straddled his stomach. When Kim pulled away to catch her breath, the left strap of her nightgown had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, her breasts dangerously close to spilling out of the lacy confines. Tommy's eyes were riveted to where the forces of nature worked their laws against her scant clothing. She leaned forward oh-so-slightly, the bodice falling forward, slipping down, baring herself to Tommy's smoldering gaze. This time when she sat back, the pink silk lay bunched around her waist, and her answer flashed in need-filled eyes.

The early morning sun hit Kim full in the face, waking her. Instead of going through her usual ritual, she immediately opened her eyes. She had to know . . . . Tommy's bronze chest was smooth and warm beneath her cheek, and she inhaled deeply, savoring the tang of sex that touched his usual musky scent. She traced the scratches on his shoulders that she had made in the throes of her first climax. It hadn't been a dream after all.

Happiness swelled within her as she lay next to Tommy, idly playing with his hair. She had never felt so wonderful; it was all she could do to keep from laughing, from jumping up and dancing around the room for the sheer joy of it. Last night had surpassed her fondest dreams; the first time they came together . . . it was so right. It was as if they had ceased being two people--they had become a part of each other physically as well as spiritually. Kim shuddered with delight. Tommy had taken her to heights she had never before imagined . . . he had seemed to know just what to do to make her feel good.

He had known too well.

With a pang of hurt, Kim realized that last night couldn't have been Tommy's first time. He had been a little hesitant initially, but now that she thought about it, it hadn't been the uncertainty of not knowing what to do but more not having used a particular skill in a long while. She supposed it didn't really matter; they were together now. That's what was important, wasn't it?

Kim slid out of bed, wiping her eyes as she wandered across the room to where Tommy had left her bags. She fought the urge to sniffle. She was being ridiculous. She had given Tommy up; he hadn't known that the letter was a lie, so she had no right to expect him not to move on. She had wanted him to be alive and happy; that was the whole purpose of her sacrifice. So he had found happiness in another woman's arms--probably Kat's. Yet, he had said that he and Kat hadn't been a couple for a while, that they hadn't clicked the way she and him had. It hurt to think that Tommy would have made love with another woman if he hadn't truly loved her. It hurt to think of him sleeping with another woman period.

"It wasn't Kat," Tommy said softly.

"Huh?" Kim hadn't even heard him get out of bed, but suddenly she felt the warmth of his presence right behind her. When she turned, he gently ran his finger across her cheek, brushing away tears she hadn't even realized she had shed.

"You're wondering who the other girl was," Tommy responded, smiling slightly at her bewildered expression. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Tommy ran a hand through his hair and lowered his eyes. "It was pretty obvious that last night wasn't my first time."

"It . . . doesn't matter," Kim choked out, also unable to meet his gaze. "What you did . . . who you dated after I sent you that letter isn't any of my business."

"Kim, my first time happened before I ever met you . . . before we ever moved to Angel Grove, and it wasn't exactly something I chose for myself."

Curiosity got the better of Kim. "What do you mean?" Then, she blushed at her boldness. "You don't have to explain . . . ."

"I've nothing to hide from you," he began. "It was when we lived in Houston . . . one of the short stays we had before coming out here. She was a woman from one of my classes at the dojo . . . older than me --college age, I guess. She needed some help picking up some of the moves and asked my sensei to recommend a tutor. I got the job. At the time, I had no clue what was going on; you know how dense I can be sometimes. I didn't realize she was hitting on me until she pinned me to the mat and kissed me."

"She took advantage of you?"

"Not quite," Tommy confessed awkwardly. "She asked me to have sex with her; I had the chance to say no, but she made it damned hard to refuse." He shrugged. "She was a knockout, and I was a horny kid; I don't think I could have said no. She taught me an awful lot."

"You were a very good student," Kim murmured shyly.

Tommy tilted her chin up. "All that was between her and me was sex. You are the first woman I have ever loved; you're the only woman I've ever wanted to make love to. You have no idea how often I wished I hadn't fooled around with Cara . . . that I could have waited for you."

"You couldn't have known . . . and I can understand how you couldn't have said no--after all, that's kind of what happened to Jason . . . ."

"You know about that?"

"Uh huh, but Jason doesn't know I know. I sort of overheard when he told Zack about it," Kim confessed. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowing her face into his chest. "It's probably for the best that it wasn't your first time, too. Lord knows I had no clue what to do last night; I think the fact that you did made it a lot easier on me."

"Thank you for understanding," Tommy said, relieved. "I always wanted to tell you but I never quite knew how." He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. His hands slowly wandered down her body. Kim sighed deeply, losing herself in the gentle caress. "Would you like to . . . ?"

She wanted to, desperately, but she knew that they shouldn't. The Mercytes would be back; she could feel it. Twenty-four hours was the usual interval between attacks. Sometimes, she felt as if whoever wanted her dead was watching her. She had had her one day; today she would pay for it.

"Maybe later," she demurred, her smile softening the rejection somewhat. "Aren't we supposed to be somewhere first thing this morning?"

"Yes, and if we're late, I'm gonna catch hell for it," Tommy sighed, disappointed. Still, he took a step back so that he could truly look at her. "You really are beautiful."

"And so are you," she added with equal appreciation. Neither wanted to move. Finally, Kim nudged Tommy's arm. "If we don't get some clothes on, we are going to be here all day."

"And that's a bad thing?" he teased.

"Only if my lethal friends show up to trash your parents' bedroom."

"Good point." Tommy made as if to retrieve his boxers then paused, his face scrunching up in an expression of revulsion.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you realize that we made love in my parent's bed?"

The thought sent shivers up both their spines.

"I thought we were heading to the race track to meet your uncle," Kim queried as Tommy pulled his truck into the parking lot behind a row of brick buildings in a neighborhood Kim had never visited before.

"We are, but not until later," Tommy replied.

"Where's here?"

"A friend's dojo. Why do you think I had you borrow some of Mom's old leotards; we didn't exactly pick up anything for you to spar in."

"Speaking of which," Kim began as she squirmed in her seat, trying to unwedge the burgundy Lycra from the crevices it had worked itself into, "how did your father manage to shrink this so badly? It's even too small for me!"

"That's Dad for you. Boy, was Mom pissed; that was one of her favorites."

"I sure hope you know how to do laundry better than he does."

The pair cut through the alley to the main street.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kim wondered as she eyed the darkened front of the dojo.

"If you're going to kick my butt, I want to be able to land on something soft," Tommy teased.

"I doubt I can kick your butt," she replied.

"You've been out running killer robots that make Dimitria nervous, and I'm out of practice." Tommy tried the door and found it locked. "Where is he? I told him we'd be here at 6:30."

Kim glanced at her watch. It was just that now. "If he's a friend, he probably knows how punctual you are and set the alarm for 7:00."

"Shows you what you know. Uncle John runs a tight ship. If he says eight, he means it; if I want to drive, I have to be on time." Tommy backed away from the storefront and scanned the windows to the apartment overhead. He picked up a pebble and tossed it at the window.

"What are you doing?" Kim gasped.

"Trying to wake him up." He tossed a larger stone. "Yo! DeSantos! You've got company!"

"This is Rocky's dojo?" Kim queried nervously.

"Uh huh. I couldn't exactly get us into the Youth Center at this hour." Tommy hurled up another stone. "Come on, Rocko, wake up!"

"Sh!" Kim scolded. "You'll wake his neighbors!"

"Cut it out before you break my window!" the owner of the dojo and apartment hollered down as he threw open the window.

Kim felt a tug on her heart as she realized how long it had been since she had last seen Rocky.

"Tommy? Izzat you?" Rocky queried as he rubbed his eyes.

"Yes. I told you 6:30."

"I know, but it's you. I set the alarm for 7:15."

Tommy quickly shot Kim a warning look, and she swallowed her giggle.

"Just come down and open the door. We don't have a lot of time."

"Aw right, aw right."

Rocky disappeared inside, and a few minutes later Kim and Tommy saw the lights come on in the dojo. Tommy motioned for Kim to slip behind him; she had the feeling he hadn't told Rocky what was going on. She grinned. Rocky opened the door and attempted to tame his sleep-styled hair, which had begun to grow out. She noticed that he had rather hastily thrown on the pants from his gi.

"You owe me big time for this, buddy," Rocky grumbled. "You never told me why you had to be here so blessed early."

"Because I have to be at the track at eight."

"So where's this kid you're going to be giving lessons to?"

"Right here," and Tommy stepped aside.

"Hi, Rocky."

Rocky gaped at her in disbelief. "Kim?"

"It's good to see you again," she murmured as she hugged him.

"When'd you get back in town?" Rocky fumbled as he ushered her inside.

"Two days ago."

Tommy had already kicked off his shoes and was stretching out.

"Tell you what. Let me go get some caffeine and get some decent clothes on, and we can get caught up while you guys spar."

"Sure, Rocky."

The former Blue Zeo Ranger hurried up the stairs, a million questions darting through his mind.

"Are you out of your mind?" Kim hissed at Tommy once Rocky was gone.

"What?"

"Bringing me here! It's too dangerous. What if the Mercytes show up? They could destroy Rocky's dojo . . . or worse, come back when we're not here and retaliate. Why do you think they torched the motel?"

"Just take it easy, Kim," Tommy soothed. "We'll make sure that the sleazebuckets don't realize he's helping you. They probably haven't had me under surveillance for long. So maybe I come here every morning to work out before going to the track."

Kim just shook her head and sighed. "Where's the back door to this place?"

It was startling for Tommy to see the change in her --from woman to warrior. On one level, it hurt to see her so cold and serious. He had tried so hard yesterday to break through that tough exterior; he thought he had succeeded. However, this was how Kim had managed to keep herself alive for over a year; now that he was involved, Tommy couldn't afford to discount it. He had to remind himself that the woman was still in there; it just wasn't her time.

"You ready?" Kim queried, kicking off her shoes as she returned to the main studio. She paused to roll up the legs on the too-large gi trousers.

"Sure am."

"The sooner we wrap this up, the better I'll feel --for Rocky's sake."

Rocky headed back down the stairs, a cup of coffee in hand. Already he could hear his friends' ki-yais and the slap of bare feet against the mats. He couldn't believe it; Kim was back! And it was pretty obvious that she and Tommy were a couple once again. What happened with Kat and Tommy? Although, he had to admit that the two had started drifting apart a while ago. There was that couple of weeks right after Tommy had been brainwashed when it looked like their relationship was going to take off, but nothing seemed to happen. He supposed it really didn't matter; Tommy looked happier than he ever had since Kim left for Florida . . . and why wasn't she in Florida? Wasn't she supposed to be competing at the Pan Globals? It was the whole reason she left! Yet, in watching the preliminaries last night, he had noticed that she hadn't been there, but it hadn't really registered.

He took a seat on the stairs and sipped his coffee as he watched the two run through a couple of exchanges. Tommy was really out of practice. It was kind of sad to see; he had always been so good. The skills were still there, though; he just needed to start using them more. He hoped Tommy would take time to workout more --he was planning on having Tommy do some guest teaching in return for this favor.

Even more remarkable than Tommy's rustiness was Kim's sharpness. It was obvious she knew a little more karate than she had as a Ranger, but it was her other fighting skills that struck Rocky. There was an edge to her that she had never had before . . . a coldness and an almost lethal determination.

"Okay," Tommy began, his words disrupting Rocky's thoughts. "Ready for the real thing?"

"I'm always ready for the real thing."

Rocky could tell she was deadly serious.

"You come at me as if I was one of the sleazebuckets . . . ."

"They always attack first, Tommy. I've never taken the offensive with them."

"Okay. How's this . . . 'halt, intended target! Resistance is futile; you will be assimilated!" To accompany Tommy's teasing words were movements reminiscent of Frankenstein. As Kim glared at him, he caught her around the waist and started tickling her.

"Tommy!" she snapped, clearly not in the mood to play. "We had our fun. This is serious now. Please . . . this isn't like when we faced Zedd and Rita; I don't want to lose you to these things."

"I know. It'll be all right, Kim. I promise you," he assured her, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Come at me full throttle --like you would putties or Tengas or whatever other goons you faced," she instructed.

What followed next came as close to frightening Rocky as anything he had ever seen as a Ranger. It wasn't Tommy's attack so much --he came at Kim with a devastating combination of kicks and punches-- as it was Kim's responses. She met his assault with a ferocity Rocky had never seen in her before, and she wasn't pulling punches. The longer they sparred, the more he could see that she was dead earnest about what she was doing, and this began drawing Tommy in as well. Old reflexes and instincts started kicking in. His moves started losing some of their dull edges. Rocky nearly dropped his mug as Tommy grabbed a practice katana and resumed his attack; Kim rolled away from the sword stroke and came up by the bo staves. She snatched one up and continued meeting Tommy's advance.

"Shit," he whispered in awe as Kim planted the staff and whirled herself around it, catching Tommy in the midsection with both feet. What had happened to Kim to turn her into such a deadly fighter?

Breathing heavily, Kim stood over Tommy, the end of the staff poised above his throat and a foot resting on his sternum. Those were two of the Mercytes' weaker points--the casing about the throat was thinner than anywhere else, and a good hit to the chest panel invariable shorted out all sorts of things. It took a moment for her senses to clear . . . to recall that this wasn't one of the assassins, but her boyfriend --her lover.

"Tommy . . . ." she ventured hesitantly.

"I was right about needing the mats," he joked without humor. "Okay, this gives me a really good idea of where your fighting skills stand . . . boy, Zedd was lucky you couldn't fight like this as a Ranger otherwise . . . ."

Kim held up a hand to silence him, feeling the hackles on her neck rise.

"They're here," Tommy murmured as he scrambled to his feet.

"I'll draw them away from the dojo," Kim responded as she dashed for the back door.

"The vacant lot!" Tommy called after her.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Rocky demanded, abandoning his seat on the stairs.

"Spar with me, Rocko. Make it look like we do this every morning," Tommy ordered in clipped tones --an echo of his former command voice.

"What's going on?" Rocky queried even as he obeyed. Old habits died hard.

"What you don't know won't get you killed."

"Tommy, if you guys are in trouble, I want to help."

"Not this time, Rocky. I should never have come here . . . I just wasn't thinking," Tommy murmured as he bowed to his friend. It took every once of will power he possessed not to look at the windows.

"Good Lord!" Rocky gulped, catching a glint of silver passing before the school's window.

"Don't draw their attention," Tommy hissed through clenched teeth.

"What are those things? They look like cogs on acid or something."

"Scanners indicate that the intended target is moving north by northeast, approximately 100 meters from our present position," one unit reported, the cold tones penetrating the windows of the dojo.

"Intended target . . . you mean those things are after Kim?"

"Rocky, don't get involved," Tommy warned. "They're robot assassins sent back in time to kill Kim--and anyone who helps her. I butted in before I knew what was going on --not that knowing would have changed things-- but you've got your school to think of. If you get involved, those things could come after you at any time, possibly while you have innocent students around. They don't care who gets caught in the crossfire."

As the hunters moved off, the two ceased going through the motions. Tommy dashed to the window.

"Man, I hope they bought this. Look, Rocky, I gotta go help Kim."

"Have you at least called the Rangers?"

"Yes, they're doing what they can to stop these guys at the source. Kim and I just have to keep ourselves alive."

"Don't go out the front," Rocky cautioned as Tommy reached for the door handle. "They may still be watching this place. Out the back, down the alley, and two rights will get you to the vacant lot ahead of those bozos."

"Thanks, Rocko."

"At least let me know how you guys are doing, okay?"

"Sure. I'll be back for my lessons, racing and robots permitting."

The empty lot was a war zone by the time Tommy arrived. The Mercytes moved faster than he thought . . . or there were more of them than he had estimated. Kim dove for cover behind the remains of a brick wall; her shelter shortly erupted in a blaze of light. She rolled clear, coming up with a length of pipe. She swung at the assassin converging on her, smashing it hard in the chest plate and sending it crashing to the ground. She tried to run again, but her feet slipped out from under her, taking her out of the line of fire. To her credit, she continued moving, but always on the defensive. Still, it astonished Tommy to see how difficult it was for the automatons to hit one unarmed human. Either Dimitria highly overrated their capabilities, or being sent back through time affected them more than the Rangers' mentor anticipated. Kim hurled a brick with frightening accuracy and nailed another unit in the face, destroying its optical receptors.

Tommy knew Kim couldn't keep up her pace forever, and she was rapidly running out of places to duck out of sight for a temporary respite. Also, the longer the battle waged, the greater chance there was of the neighbors waking up, coming out, and possibly being hurt. He knew what he needed to do --Kim had told him all she could about the hunters on the drive over.

It was hard to stifle the sharp ki-yai, but he forced it back as he slammed hard into the back of one of the robots. His momentum carried him forward, and he quickly aimed for the chest panel of the next assassin. However, it was not his intent to take the tin cans one on one. Diving and rolling to dodge a lethal blast, Tommy came up with one of the hunter's weapons and started firing. Guns had never been his preferred weapon as a Ranger, and it had been a while since he had fired one. His shots did only marginal damage.

"Kim, get over here! I'll cover for you!"

He lay down a swathe as best he could; Kim arrived at his side a fraction of a second before a probing beam.

"Here," he offered, handing her the heavy gun; this was not the time to try and be macho. "You're a lot better shot than I am --always were."

Kim hefted the weapon far more easily than he had. "You always were better with the sword," she murmured and started picking off her targets with deadly accuracy. She had never taken the offensive before; it was different knowing there weren't living beings inside the suits. It felt good to cut loose at last. Her attackers fell under her marksmanship, and Kim offered silent thanks to the punk who had taught her how to shoot. "By the way, which one did you get this off of?"

"The one with the smashed chest plate. Why?"

"If I shoot him, the gun dissolves too. Whoever the gun comes from, goes last," Kim instructed.

In a matter of moments, the gunfight was over. Kim and Tommy were the only two left standing.

"Did we get them all?" Kim wondered, discarding the weapon before the metal melted.

"I think so; I don't see any of them," Tommy replied, eyeing the smoking remnants of their assailants. "Are the assaults always like this? Once you started shooting, they fell awfully quickly."

"This is the shortest attack I've ever been through," Kim answered, "but then, I've never really fought back before. It was always more just doing what I could to get away or simply outlasting them. Their power supply is limited --I have waited them out before-- but they have a good three or four hours in them usually. You're right, though; that seemed almost too easy."

"Well, it was after you got the gun. They probably didn't expect you to go for the jugular."

"They'll be expecting it next time," Kim said grimly. "They learn from their mistakes."

"We'll be ready for them," Tommy remarked soberly. He noticed that she was shaking, and he wrapped his arms around her. It wasn't until he caught Kim's concerned glance that he realized that he was shaking too. He smiled bravely as he wiped at the smudges on her cheeks. They stood drawing strength from each other for several moments.

"We should get out of here; I don't think they'll bother us again until tomorrow at the earliest," Kim said at last. As she stepped off to head back to the parking lot, Tommy noticed that she was walking gingerly, favoring her right ankle.

"You're hurt," he said as he hastened over and slipped an arm around her waist.

"It's nothing . . . ."

The fight was behind them, so neither thought to look back. If they had, they would have discovered that Kim had vaporized only seven of their assailants.

"Field Unit Six to Command Unit. Awaiting further instructions."

"Reroute remaining power supply to essential motor functions and assume surveillance mode. Engage cloaking field."

"Field engaged. Unit Six in pursuit of target."

---

Part VII

John glanced up at the clock as he finished the last of his coffee. It was 7:30.

"Watching the clock isn't going to make Tommy get here any faster," Jessica chided gently. "At least he phoned to say that he was staying at the house. It'll take him a while to get across town."

"I know; it's just that . . . ." He didn't need to voice his concerns; he could see them reflected back at him in his wife's eyes.

Suddenly, he heard a car pull up outside, and John was out of his chair in an instant. His relief at seeing Tommy's truck was marred when he saw the condition of the occupants. Bedraggled and smudged with dirt, clothes torn and worst of all Tommy helping a limping Kimberly told him that they had had a busy morning.

"Are you two all right?" he queried as he came out to help.

"We ran into some of my friends," Kim quipped somberly.

"Kim hurt her ankle . . . ." Tommy began.

"I just twisted it; it's no big deal," Kim demurred. "I've sustained worse damage than this."

"Let's get you inside, and Jessica can take a look at it," John recommended.

With a sigh, Kim ceased resisting and allowed the two to usher her into a chair. Tommy hovered nearby as his aunt went to fetch the first aid kit.

"Tommy, I'm all right," Kim assured him, giving his hand a squeeze. "Your aunt can take care of me, so why don't you go get cleaned up and changed. You're due on the track in half an hour."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, and I'll join you out there as soon as I'm cleaned up."

As he observed the pair, John shook his head. "How can you be so calm and accepting about all this?"

"It's the only way I've stayed alive," Kim said bleakly. "It's been my life for the last year."

"It's not going to be your life for much longer," Tommy vowed. He bent down to give her a kiss, and she favored him with a sad sort of smile.

"Go on," Kim ordered in a whisper. She waited until Tommy disappeared down the hall before tugging off her shoe, wincing as she did so.

"Okay, let's have a look at that ankle, and . . . good Lord!" Jessica gasped upon seeing the bloody mess that were the soles of Kimberly's feet.

"There was a lot of broken glass and sharp metal in that empty lot," Kim explained with a shrug. "There wasn't time to put my shoes on. None of the cuts are deep, but I think there might be some glass in a couple of them."

"Why didn't you say something to Tommy; you shouldn't have been walking on these!"

"I suppose I should have . . . I'm just not used to having someone else to rely on yet. Please, don't tell Tommy, though. It'll only worry him, and he doesn't need the distraction right now."

"I think he likes worrying about you," Jessica murmured, smiling. "All right. Let's clean some of these cuts . . . ."

---

---

This thing called love I just can't handle it

This thing called love I must get round to it

I ain't ready

Crazy little thing called love

Kim found herself unable to get the tune out of her head as she emerged from the trailer; well, Tommy had warned her about his aunt's love of music. Jessica had the stereo going almost constantly.

After having her feet tended to and a nice hot shower and a nap, she felt like a new woman . . . a woman who's very much in love! To that end, she decided to take a little more care than usual in getting dressed. It had been like old times--except for the limited selection offered by her wardrobe. However, there had been a few things in those bags that she had been surprised to find . . . like the white shorts which had a three inch inseam (if that!) and the hot pink cropped halter. She shook her head, knowing exactly how they had wound up in with her selections. The next time she and Tommy went shopping, she was going to have to pay closer attention to what he was doing. Still, she had to admit that it wasn't a bad choice. The clothes were extremely flattering, and since Tommy had picked them out, she knew he'd like them on her.

As she headed to the infield, Kim felt lighthearted, almost giddy. It was all she could do to keep from skipping. The early morning attack meant that the rest of the day was hers. Normally that meant getting on the bike and hitting the road; if she kept moving, it made it harder for the Mercytes to track her down. She wasn't running any more. Angel Grove was her home. This was where she was happiest. This would be where she made her stand with Tommy at her side. There would be time enough for planning later. For now, she was going to watch Tommy's practice, catch a little sun, and maybe the two of them could spend a little more time together.

In spite of her sore feet, there was a spring in her step as she passed Tommy's truck and her motorcycle. It still struck her as funny to think that she owned a motorcycle; that was more up Tommy's alley. She ran her fingers absently across the worn seat and tapped her helmet. She noticed that the paint was chipping off, and she scraped at the black flecks revealing more of the color underneath. Admittedly, she had been impulsive in buying the helmet, but the design had spoken to her somehow. Yet, it stood out like a beacon, which was why she had taken to painting over it. Ultimately, it hadn't mattered what her helmet looked like; the Mercytes had always been able to find her. With a shrug, Kim collected her headgear and took it along.

---

"Better, much better," John murmured as he checked the stopwatch.

"Amazing what a day off can do," Eddie muttered. "Has he had any complaints about the tire?"

"None; I think you got it this time," John replied, "and I think it's more than merely having a break."

"Hey, John!"

Both men looked up at Kim's hail.

Eddie let out a low whistle of appreciation. "What's she trying to do --cause an accident?"

John simply shook his head in amazement. And she trashes killer robots?

"Think Tommy can handle her?"

"A lot better than you could." The two fell silent as Kim bounced over.

"How are you feeling, Kim?" John queried

"Lot's better. Jess said I should come down here to the pits to watch Tommy practice," Kim said.

"No problem. You'd be too exposed up in the stands," John agreed, and he heard Eddie bite back a chuckle.

"How's he doing?" Kim shaded her eyes against the glare as Tommy streaked past.

"Really well. I think he'll do fine at the time trials this weekend."

"I'm glad. I was so worried that he'd be too distracted with worrying about me and the Mercytes that he wouldn't be able to keep his mind on driving."

"To be honest, I think this is the most focused I've seen him. If you don't mind me saying so, you coming back and working things out --robots included-- is the best thing to happen to him." His words made Kim blush.

"If you're going to be in the pits," Eddie interjected into the following pause, "I'd better find you a coverall."

"Any particular reason?" John teased his crew chief.

"So she'll blend in better."

John did his best not to laugh.

---

---

Kim was perched on a stack of tires purposefully scraping the paint off her helmet when Tommy pulled in for a break. She had donned the pair of coveralls that Eddie had scrounged for her, and her hair was tucked up into a team cap.

"Hey, Beautiful," he greeted, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her. "Where'd this come from?" He plucked at the jumpsuit. "You sure make it look good, but I think I liked what you had on when you first came down to the pits."

"I didn't know you saw me," she answered. "Eddie thought it'd be better camouflage if I dressed like everyone else here."

"Eddie probably didn't want the crew to fall all over themselves drooling over you."

"Tommy . . . ." She playfully swatted him. "We're going to have to talk about your taste in my clothing."

Tommy shrugged. "Can I help it if I know what I'd like to see you in?"

"Oh, you . . . ."

"What are you working on?"

Kim handed him her helmet. She had almost completely uncovered the vibrant pink bird done in stylized flames against a white background. "I saw no reason to keep it covered up anymore."

"It suits you," Tommy remarked, thinking of her former affiliation with the firebird. "So, when do I get to have a ride on your bike?" It had been a while since he had sold his motorcycle; he had traded it in shortly after he and Kim had first started dating. Side-by-side seating was much more convenient on dates.

"When I get to drive your race car," Kim quipped.

"Okay, hop in."

"What? You're not serious . . . ."

"Sure I am."

"Tommy, I couldn't . . . your uncle wouldn't want me driving his car!"

"You've driven machines far more sophisticated than this; you could handle it. Besides, Uncle John has headed back to the trailer. Just take it out for a couple of laps."

"Tommy . . . ." Kim protested, albeit a little more weakly. She had wondered what Tommy saw in driving a car in circles really fast. It just didn't make sense to her. "I shouldn't . . . what if someone on the crew sees? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"They're all busy. Besides, if you wear my helmet and I wear yours," he began, placing his head gear on her then slipping the pink firebird on himself, "nobody will know the difference."

A wry grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You don't think the fact that the person in the pink bird helmet is a foot taller than before and completely lacking a figure will go unnoticed? I'm surprised that thing fits you. Although, it is a little large on me. I didn't even care about the size when I bought it."

"Maybe I'll borrow it for luck during the time trials," Tommy teased. "So, are you going for a ride or not?"

"Will I regret this?" she sighed as she allowed him to conduct her to the car.

"You won't know until you try."

---

---

Kim's worries about being seen were not unfounded, simply misdirected as emotionless red orbs recorded her and Tommy's every move.

---

"Okay, let's get this thing parked and get busy," John said as he pulled past the entry gate to the Angel Canyon Speedway. "I'll see if I can pry Tommy out of bed."

"I'm surprised you let him sleep in," Jess remarked teasingly. "Normally, you prefer him to ride shotgun."

"He probably could use the extra couple hours after the past two and half days. Besides, it's not like we had to drive clear across the country to reach the track."

"A good thing, too, since neither one of you can navigate worth a damn."

"Don't worry, dear; you will never be out of a job when it comes to that." Giving his wife a quick kiss, John headed for the back of the RV. He quietly padded through the trailer to the "living room." It gave him a moment's pause to find Tommy and Kim snuggled together on one of the pullout beds. It wasn't like they had done anything . . . both were still dressed and on top of the covers, so they probably fell asleep watching TV or something. Still, Jan probably wouldn't be too happy if he let that continue. He wondered if he should have a talk with the boy --no, Tommy was hardly a boy. He was a grown man, one who had been a Power Ranger. If that hadn't taught him responsibility and accepting the consequences of one's actions, nothing would. He reached over to tap Tommy on the shoulder --no sense in waking Kim, too-- and was caught by a well-thrown elbow. John fell back with a groan, clutching his midsection.

"All right, who . . . oh geez! Uncle John! I'm sorry," Tommy sputtered, scrambling out of bed to help him up. Kim was also at his side in an instant.

John found it amazing that for two people who had been sound asleep moments ago both Tommy and Kim were wide awake and what he'd call battle ready. "I'm okay. That'll teach me to try and tread quietly around you two."

"I'm sorry. I've gotten in the habit of punching first and asking questions later," Kim apologized. "I guess it's already rubbed off on Tommy."

"Don't worry about it, Kim. I'll know better next time. Anyway, we're at the track. We've got our pit assignment; we need to get set up and find out when you're scheduled for practice laps," John said.

"Give me a minute to get changed, and I'll be right out," Tommy answered, still looking slightly sheepish at having nailed his uncle.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kim queried.

"We can use every hand we can get for set up," John replied. "I'll see you both in a bit."

---

---

After getting the car and the equipment unloaded, Kim found herself somewhat in the way, so she left the team in the pit and wandered around the infield. The stadium was full of noise as other cars were doing laps or warming up. She didn't like it; she wouldn't be able to hear the Mercytes' teleportation effect. Those split seconds were often the only advantage she had. She had been on edge all morning; the hunters would be back. It was more than just knowing their schedule; she could feel it deep inside, and this time it wasn't going to be a hit and run. This would be it: the last stand. To that end, she had dressed in her jeans and boots in spite of the heat.

"Kim!"

Tommy's voice cut through her reflections. She managed a smile for him. No sense in worrying him anymore than he already was.

"What's up?"

"I'm on the track next. I wondered if you were going to come down and watch with the rest of the crew."

"Sure."

"Is something wrong? You're so tense, and you look like you're dressed for a fight. You're expecting trouble, aren't you."

"I'm always expecting trouble."

"Which is why you're distancing yourself from the crew, isn't it?" Tommy realized. "Maybe I should tell Uncle John . . . ."

"No," Kim cut him off. "Tommy, I don't want you to set your life aside because of all this nonsense. I know how much you want to drive in the Classic, and to do that, you have to drive in the practices and the time trials."

"Kim, the race won't mean anything to me if something happens to you."

For a moment neither could speak, but Kim squeezed Tommy's hand tightly.

"That means so much to me," she murmured hoarsely. "Tell you what, I'll stay by the pit. That way, if something does happen, I won't be alone, and your uncle can radio you. All right?"

"All right," he reluctantly agreed to the compromise. "Say, can I still borrow your helmet for luck?"

"Of course."

---

---

As Tommy maneuvered the car down pit row to the starting blocks, Kim could not keep still. She paced the pit area, unable to relax. She felt John's eyes on her.

"Is something wrong?" he queried.

"Just a feeling," she mumbled. "Would you mind if I brought my motorcycle down here?"

He couldn't imagine what she would need it for, but if it made her feel better . . . . "Sure."

"Thanks."

Kim sprinted for the access tunnel under turn three as Tommy started his warm-up lap. The equipment truck was parked about halfway down the lot. Tommy's pick-up had been left in Angel Grove, but they had stowed her bike in with the racecar. The back of the truck was still open, the ramp in place. For some reason, that disturbed Kim, and she approached cautiously. Nothing seemed to be out of place, and no one else was about. She entered the trailer, her gaze darting here and there. It was difficult to see in the back of the semi; she hurried over to her bike and rummaged through the side saddle until she located her flashlight. She swept the beam across the confines.

You're letting your imagination get the better of you, she chided herself as her investigation turned up nothing. Then, a glint of silver caught her eye. It lay between the tire tracks of the car in a smudge of oil. It was a band of metal --about three inches in width and a half inch thick, and seeing it caused a cold knot to tighten in the pit of her stomach.

Please, please let this be off the car!

Kim quickly jumped on her bike and headed back into the speedway.

---

---

"What in the world . . . !" John gasped, jumping out of the way as Kim sped into the pit area. She skidded to a halt and leaped off the bike.

"Eddie!" she shouted, searching frantically for the crew chief.

"Kim, what's wrong?" John queried, just as Eddie ambled over.

"I found this in the truck . . . it would have been under the car . . . do you recognize it?" Kim

implored. Eddie turned the ring of metal over in his hands.

"I've never seen anything like this," he murmured, finding the thick band surprisingly light.

"But you have," John remarked upon seeing Kim's pale face.

"Mercyte armor," she gulped. "Get Tommy out of the car; they've done something to it!"

"Right."

Just as John tried to raise Tommy on the radio, Tommy put a call through.

"Uncle John, I've got a problem. The breaks aren't responding."

"Eddie, call up to the tower and have them get the emergency crews on stand-by. Don't mention its sabotage," John directed, and the crew chief hurried off. To Tommy, he instructed, "Ease up off the gas and start slowing down."

"Coast to a stop. Got it."

Kim and John watched anxiously as the race car started shedding speed. As it whizzed past, Kim spotted a flash of blue light, and smoke wafted up from the tailpipe.

"Something else is wrong," she said.

"What's going on here? All of a sudden this thing is shaking like it's going to come apart," Tommy radioed.

"Take it back up to speed until the shaking stops," John ordered. To Kim he added, "I bet you anything those tin cans fixed it so that if the car drops under a certain speed, it'll blow or something."

Kim grabbed Tommy's helmet. "Then it's up to me to get him out of there. Help me set the radio so I can talk with him."

"Will you be able to match his speed?"

"We'll find out." As Kim hit the accelerator, she spoke into the mike, "Hang on, Tommy; I'm on my way."

"I'll try and hold her steady. But I'm losing control fast. Something's eating at my systems, shorting them out one at a time."

Kim bent low over the handlebars as she raced after Tommy, her mouth set in a determined line. She would get to him in time; there was no other alternative. She found herself grateful for the spin around the track she had taken yesterday. It had showed her that the track was more than simply an asphalt oval; it had its own special nuances. Tearing down the straightaway was not the same as tearing down a stretch of highway.

"How you doin'?" Kim queried.

"It's starting to get awful hot in here."

"I'm giving her all I got . . . ." But both knew it wasn't going to be enough.

"I'm taking my foot off the accelerator. If I can bleed off just a little more speed . . . ."

"I'll be along side you before that thing blows," Kim vowed.

"I know you will."

Kim shoved her fear down as she watched the cloud of smoke pouring out of the back of the car grow thicker. The racer was fishtailing all over the place.

"Steering's gone." Tommy reported.

It was going to make it difficult to come up beside him; it was almost as if the Mercytes were controlling the car by remote control. I wouldn't put it past them.

"I've got fire under the hood . . . ."

"Just a little bit more . . . ."

"I've got a blow out . . . ."

". . . almost there . . . ."

"Kim, I gotta bail out now . . . ."

Kim wasn't sure where the final burst of speed came from, but suddenly she shot alongside the wildly swerving car.

"Do it!"

Tommy was already halfway out the window. He held on for a moment longer then pushed off. Kim nearly lost control as he landed behind her; she didn't even wait for him to get settled but veered off as quickly as she could. A moment later, the car erupted into a ball of flame, debris showering them.

"That was too close," Tommy muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. "Oh man, the car . . . ." Already the fire equipment was moving out onto the track.

"We're not out of trouble yet."

Tommy caught a glimpse of silver in the stands moments before the first shot rang out.

"We've got to get out of here before they tear the speedway apart," Tommy said.

Kim swerved away from a section of asphalt that suddenly turned into a bubbling morass.

"Ow!" Tommy winced as a beam clipped his arm.

"Tommy?"

"It's not bad . . . just singed me, that's all."

"I'm making for the main entry . . . ." However, the next shot that crossed their path took out the tire and sent the motorcycle careening out of control. They skidded towards the pits.

"Abandon ship!"

The two dove off the bike as it crashed into a gas pump; a spectacular column of flame tore into the air. They both flew threw the air for several yards before tucking and rolling to a hard stop in the grass. However, there was little time to recover. Both were on their feet and in defensive stances as their attackers materialized in the infield.

"Surrender," the command unit intoned emotionlessly.

"Go to hell!" Tommy rumbled, lashing out with a kick that did little more than glance off the nearest hunter. He was promptly grabbed by a second attacker and forcibly restrained.

"Tommy, no!" Kim shrieked as Tommy was forced at gunpoint to his knees. "Let him go!" Kim launched herself at the robots holding Tommy. The move caught the Mercytes by surprise.

Tommy quickly pulled free and tackled another hunter by the knees. When that assassin came crashing down, Tommy snatched up its gun. He whirled and fired at the automaton converging on Kim. He quickly worked his way to her side. He surrendered the gun, and as Kim cut a deadly swathe through the armor-plated ranks, the two attempted to get to some cover; however, they were outnumbered. A pair of Mercytes cut off their escape route. With fire at their heels, Kim tugged Tommy in a different direction. That, too, was cut off. Tommy urged her towards the opposite path and found it blocked. In short order, the two were completely surrounded and looking into the barrels of the Mercytes' arm cannons.

"No," Tommy whispered defiantly, but as the two looked at each other, they knew it was over at last.

Kim tore off her helmet and flung it at the command unit. "Why! Why are you doing this to me? What do you guys want? Who wants me dead!"

"This unit is not authorized to divulge that information. Target and the human designated as Tommy Oliver have been neutralized. Implement Program Omega 13: termination of intended target."

"I can't believe this is happening," Kim whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "There's still a chance . . . you aren't scheduled for termination. Maybe they'd let you go . . . ."

Tommy pulled off his helmet and wrapped his arms around her. "No, Kim. If they kill you, they'll have to kill me, too," Tommy said gravely, looking deep into her eyes. "Like they say during the wedding vows, ' 'til death do us part'."

" 'til death," Kim echoed, smiling bravely as their lips met in a final kiss. She poured her heart and soul into the exchange, giving to Tommy all the passion she held inside and taking the like from him. She no longer feared death. She feared nothing with Tommy at her side. Tommy pressed her more tightly to him as their tongues dueled in a primal dance. While their mouths made passionate love to each other, the two waited for oblivion.

And waited.

Finally, the need for air forced them apart, and they were astonished to discover that they were still breathing. As one, the pair looked around. Eight assassins, guns still locked on target, stood motionlessly around them. No lights flickered on the chest plate powerpacks, and the unblinking red eyes were dark.

"Are they . . . ?" Kim began hesitantly, scarcely daring to believe.

Tommy attempted to pull a gun from one of the androids. While he could not remove the weapon, the hunter made no move to stop him. He had Kim back out of the way as he depressed the firing mechanism. Nothing happened.

"Dead," Tommy murmured in awe. "The guns. The assassins. Everything."

"But how?"

Then, the two heard an all-too familiar hum, and five brightly colored streaks of light assumed the shapes of the Turbo Rangers.

"What's going on?" Tommy queried.

"We came to tell you that we located the time portal these things were using," the Red Ranger reported.

"It wasn't a naturally occurring time hole; someone went to a lot of expense to open it," the Blue Ranger added. "A rip like that could have caused serious damage to the space/time continuum."

"You guys closed it? Is that what turned these guys off?" Kim asked eagerly.

"According to Dimitria, the carrier signal powering the Mercytes was cut off before we closed the hole," Red continued.

"They were shut off at the source!" Tommy realized. With a jubilant shout, Tommy caught Kim under the arms and spun her around. "Do you know what this means, Kim? It's over!"

"It's over?" Kim repeated numbly, shock filling her features as she looked blankly up at Tommy. He pulled her to him tightly and nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, giving her a soft kiss. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Yes, Beautiful. Your nightmare is finally over."

---

Epilogue I

---

"I can't believe how stupid I looked," Kim grumbled as she turned off the television. She wandered over to the master bath where Tommy was fixing up the tub. "All I could do was stand there with tears streaming down my face! I couldn't even speak for myself --you had to do it all."

"No one will think anything of it," Tommy replied as he emerged from his parents' bathroom. After the media had finished with them and the paramedics released them, they had retreated to the quiet of the Oliver house. "You've been through a horrible ordeal; it's only natural to be shocked and relieved that it's over.

Is it? Kim wondered privately. Someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to try and kill her; that someone wasn't likely to give up easily. Kim didn't relish the idea of living her life always looking over her shoulder; however, Dimitria had said that she would monitor any unauthorized time portals, so she'd have some warning next time. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms wrapped about her as if to ward off a chill. "I can't believe there were so many reporters at the track covering a practice," she murmured.

"The Canyon Classic is big news around here."

"I suppose; it's just that I'd always tried to avoid getting into the news."

"I'm glad the emergency crews were on hand. The Mercytes really did a number on the track," Tommy said.

"I really feel badly about that. I shouldn't have gone with you; I knew an attack was coming ...."

"They would have wrecked havoc anywhere you'd have gone. At least the track was mostly empty; there were firemen and paramedics on hand, and the damage wasn't that bad. Things will only be set back a day or two at the most, according to Uncle John." Tommy pulled Kim into his arms and hugged her reassuringly. "Now, it's time to put this behind you. You have your life back; what are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know." Kim looked up at him with confusion in her eyes. "I stopped thinking about the future a long time ago."

"You'll want to see your family again," Tommy suggested.

"I can't believe my mom will be here in forty-eight hours!" Kim bubbled, perking up. The first thing they had done upon reaching the house was call Paris.

"You'll probably want to go home with your mom, too," he continued, his tone carefully neutral. He didn't want to let Kim out of his sight again, but if she really wanted to go to Paris with her mother . . . .

"Just for a little while." Tommy's expression brightened noticeably, and Kim smiled. "I've been on my own for so long, I don't think I can go back to living in her house and by her rules. She may try to treat me as an adult, but I'll always be her baby. Besides, Angel Grove is home. More importantly, it's where you are."

"I'm glad," Tommy whispered huskily, giving her hand a squeeze. "Will you get a place of your own and find a job?"

"I'd like to, but in order to get a job that I can support myself on, I need to finish school."

"Will you go back to Angel Grove or work on a GED?"

"I'd feel funny going back to school --being older than everyone, following a rigid schedule-- but I missed a lot when I left, and school just may be what I need to help me discover a sense of normalcy. However, going back to school means I won't be able to work full time . . . ."

"You know you can stay with my family until you get on your feet."

"I don't know, Tommy; I don't want to be a bother . . . ."

"You were a bigger bother when you weren't around," Tommy said with a laugh; he hugged Kim when he saw her flinch at the reminder of what she had done. "At least think about it. My folks would love to have you, and it might make your mother feel better about you staying."

Look what happened the last time she let me stay, Kim reflected, but she knew Tommy was right. "Okay, I'll think about it."

"How about thinking about it in the tub? The water isn't getting any warmer." He offered her a chivalrous bow. "You bath awaits, milady."

With a giggle and an exaggerated curtsey, Kim allowed herself to be ushered into the bathroom. She gasped in surprise and delight. The room was aglow with candlelight, and soft music added to the romantic atmosphere. Beside the tub sat a tray with two wine glasses and a bottle in the ice bucket.

"Tommy?"

"Allow me," was all he said. He reached around and untied the knot in her belt, then he held the robe for her as she slipped out of it and eased into the steaming, foam-covered water, immersing herself with a contented sigh.

"May I join you?"

Only then did it register that Tommy wore his bathrobe as well. Her grin widened, and her eyes danced with joy. "Be my guest." She slid over to make room as Tommy dropped his robe and waded in.

"Mm," Kim purred as she snuggled into his arms.

"I figure we might as well make the most of this before my folks get home."

"Oh, you . . . ." She gave him a playful swat, and she turned her attention to the bottle chilling in the silver container. "That isn't what I think it is, is it?"

"If you think it's sparkling white grape juice, it is," Tommy quipped as he reached for the bottle to pop the cork. "Dad hates the real thing, and where would I get champagne?"

"Grape juice is perfect," Kim assured him. She gave a startled squeak as the plastic cork burst free. Tommy poured out the drink with flair then handed her a glass.

"To the future," he toasted.

"The future."

Tommy attempted to twine his arm around Kimberly's as they sipped their drinks; however, both glasses tipped, and Kim shrieked as the cold beverage splashed down her chest. The two burst into peals of laughter, and Tommy made as if to brush the stain away. Suddenly, neither one of them was laughing.

"So, do I get to wash your hair this time?" Kim queried after a lengthy pause.

"That depends," Tommy responded lightly. "Will you be in any shape to after I'm done pampering my princess once more?"

"Hm, good question," Kim sighed longingly. "A girl could get used to this royal romantic treatment. Might as well enjoy it while I can; more than likely, it'll be a while before we get another chance."

"Maybe," Tommy answered absently as he scooted the ice bucket out of the way and reached for the remote for the CD player.

"What's that?" Kim queried, noticing a small box that had been hidden behind container. The old wood was dark with age and trimmed with brass fittings. With its domed lid, it resembled a miniature treasure chest.

"You've seen this before," Tommy replied. "It's always been on my dresser. It's Nanna Maggie's 'treasure chest.'"

"I remember now! You once told me how she'd play the queen and you'd be her faithful knight who rescued the royal jewels from the wicked dragon," Kim recalled, smiling fondly at the image. "I always thought that was so cute of your great-grandmother --and so fitting considering you were always my knight on a white horse."

"Tiger," Tommy corrected, and Kim's smile warmed him. "I never showed you what's inside, did I?"

"No."

"Open it."

"Puzzled, Kim pushed the lid back; inside the velvet lined chest was a ring, cunningly wrought. The band resembled a braided vine, and the etched leaves making up the shanks were dusted with tiny diamond flecks. The crown was an exquisitely crafted rose in full bloom, the delicate petals shaded a burnished rose color. In the heart of the flower sat a large diamond that sparkled and flashed in the firelight.

"It's beautiful," Kim gasped, awestruck. "Where did you get this?" She couldn't imagine that Tommy could afford something like this, and the craftsmanship was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Read the inscription."

Kim peered into the band. The spidery script was worn, but she could make out the words: To my beloved Rose. JM 1863.

"It belonged to Nanna's grandmother," Tommy explained. "Nanna gave it to me the Christmas before she died."

"But you were only three!"

"It was the last of the 'treasure,' she said. She commanded her 'faithful knight' to guard this until he found a worthy princess to bestow it upon."

Kim handed the ring back to Tommy, and he studied it with a distant, thoughtful gaze and a soft smile. She couldn't fathom where his thoughts had wandered, so she watched and waited. Tommy suddenly snapped out of his reverie at the intro to the next song.

"Ah, perfect!"

"What?"

"Listen."

You know our love was meant to be

The kind of love to last forever

"More Chicago?"

"Sh!"

And I want you here with me

From tonight until the end of time

Kim just looked at Tommy, unable to speak as her throat tightened inexplicably and her heart began racing. There was something shining in his eyes, his smile . . . .

You should know

Everywhere I go

Always on my mind

In my heart

In my soul

"You are you know," Tommy whispered. "Even when we were apart."

You're the meaning in my life

You're the inspiration

You bring feeling to my life

You're the inspiration

Wanna have you near me

I Wanna have you hear me saying

"No one needs you more than I need you."

Happy tears glistened in Kim's eyes.

"I need you, Kim; you're a part of me I can't live without. More than that, I love you, and I want to be with you always. Kimberly Hart, will you marry me?"

Kim's eyes were wide as Tommy held the antique ring at the tip of her left ring finger. She tried to speak, but the words still wouldn't come.

Tommy saw the answer in her eyes, but he waited. He needed to hear her say it. When it finally came, it was scarcely above a whisper as the music swelled in the background.

"Yes."

Tommy slid the ring onto Kim's finger and pulled her close, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that blossomed with the passion and love running deep in their souls.

. . . you're the inspiration

When you love somebody

'Til the end of time

When you love somebody

Always on my mind/No one needs you more than I . . . .

---

Epilogue II

---

"No! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

Blue eyes --as hard as the diamond Tommy slipped on Kim's finger and as cold as the dark side of the moon-- narrowed as the scene played out in the flickering light of the crystalline globe. Energy crackled around slender hands in an angry nimbus of black light.

"She was supposed to die! He wasn't supposed to propose to her!"

The energy flew from fingertips, smashing into the orb and shattering it into dust-fine particles. The sorceress known as the Dark Lady rose from her throne, the lunar palace quaking with her wrath. She crossed the antechamber to the balcony; like a blue/white jewel on a velvet cloak, the planet Earth loomed beyond the moon's horizon.

She cared not for conquering the planet. Her burning ambition lay in other directions . . . her acquisition of wealth and power --technological and arcane-- geared towards one goal: the destruction of Kimberly Hart --a woman who had been dead for more centuries than the Dark Lady cared to count.

To that end, she had marshaled all the resources at her command and laid her plans carefully for centuries . . . . The Mercytes were the most lethal, most feared, and most successful assassins in the galaxy. It had cost her nearly half the wealth accumulated by her predecessors to purchase a cadre loyal only to her programming.

And they couldn't even kill one powerless human female!

The time hole had also cost her dearly --an expenditure of her magical powers that had taken her years from which to recover.

And those meddlesome Rangers sealed it!

It would be centuries before she could open another, unless she could find a naturally occurring portal (most, however, had been sealed over the millennia by one group of Rangers or another). A window to the past did not concern her; time was one commodity she had in abundance. The day she destroyed her mistress and unwittingly assumed her powers was the day time stood still for her.

"Invincible assassins --HA!" the Dark Lady sneered. "The little slut figured out how to take you out --even without Tommy's help."

They had had her! Kimberly had been as good as dead; if only Tommy hadn't interfered . . . . If she hadn't pulled the plug when she did, those stupid blast-happy robots would have fried him right along with Kimberly. That would have ruined everything! Tommy had to live . . . if he had died, there would be no hope of ever undoing the damned spell.

"This is all your fault, little pink bitch," the sorceress hissed menacingly, conjuring a vision of the hated young woman. "If Tommy had never gone back to you, none of this would have ever happened to me!" Clapping her hands together, she obliterated the image. Would that she could be rid of the woman as easily. "This isn't over, Kimmie, not until death claims one of us, and I have all the time in the universe!"

Laughter reverberated throughout the corridors of the deserted palace as its mistress swept through the lonely halls to begin her scheming anew. She would have her revenge.

Through the twisted, madness-darkened corridors of the Dark Lady's mind, laughter echoed --the shrill, screeching cackle of a mistress long dead at the sorceress' own hands.

"Such an evil kitty . . . ."

The End